Spoonlicker Anon Pt. 12

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Summary: Anonymous is a child that no one can understand, not even Flutters. Twilight has learned 3 pseudo-words, and possibly 2 signs/ gestures. As more and more becomes known about Anonymous, the more caution turns to sympathy. With her friends now all on board, the next big question is less about figuring out Anon, but how to help it.

Last Chapter: Twilight fills everyone in on the past few days and some of her theories about Anonymous. A sudden drawing session paired with a new gesture from Anon sparks Twilight's mathematical mind and she tries to isolate and solve the meaning. The results are substantial, but less than definitive. However, they also cause an outburst from Anonymous, and, alongside Rarity's reasoning, the full weight of the situation comes into light.

Posted in Thread 899
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>Lazily you rise from the floor; the tiredness from yesterday quelled. Without it or the anxiety over Anonymous you feel much lighter. All of the lanterns have burned out leaving the inside of the barn completely dark.
>What little light sneaks in through the cracks offers just enough for you to scan for shapes and outlines. Your first target is the hay pile in the back.
>The mock bed is flat, lacking the bulge of Anonymous. Everything else looks to be in the proper place, and the door is still shut. Where has it gone?
>You try to call out for it, but your voice fails completely. No sound escapes your lips no matter how much you try.
>Seeking to aid your search, you follow the basic mental wiring to produce a glow in your horn. Even that proves unsuccessful, and as you run through your library of spells you find every connection broken.
>No magic and no voice, how can this get any worse?

>Aimlessly navigating through the barn you search the old fashioned way; bumping into things and trying to feel around. The clacking of your hooves against the wood appears to cause no other disturbance in the environment.
>As you go from stall to stall, the fact that you are alone becomes evident. Anonymous must have gotten passed you somehow.
>Pushing open the door displays the effects of the passing storm. Puddles lay about the mud, and all is quiet in the wet night. The rain appears to have stopped long ago, leaving only dancing auroras. Clear skies allow the amazingly strange colors of the night to wind across the dark canvas.
>Although unsure where to start, you move forward almost instinctively. Your head swings left to right as you search. Solitude surrounds you; the area eerily empty.
>The barn behind you drifts into the distance as you stand by yourself in the barren fields. The dark cityscape of Ponyville abruptly grows on the horizon although Sweet Apple Acres is still in clear view.


>Pressing onward, the silence of the night remains on top of you; the stillness of the town offering no reprieve. Not a single candle or street light offers you the sign of life.
>As you approach the border, various clumps nearby catch your eye; their size strangely large. Slowly making your way over to them all thoughts about finding Anonymous are overwritten as you process the four distinct mounds.
>A flash of muted white peaks your concern, the colors becoming clearer. You come to a dead stop while still a short trek away; positioned perfectly between the barn and town. There is no further shift in your legs, and you can only look on.
>Tiny red rivers mix with the once pure white coat; where they originate you cannot tell. Broad orange shoulders arc from the ground, riddled with quills. Pink and blue heaps lay helplessly against one another; five jagged marks across their backs.
>Your heart skips a beat as your mind dares you to accept the sight. An urge to run, either forward or away, rises from within. However, your nerves find the appendages non-existent.

>”Please stop.”
>Your eyes immediately shoot towards the sound. There on the hill just outside of the Everfree is a hulking mass with a center of dim yellow. Fluttershy sits weakly, caught within Anonymous’ grasp. Its sharp claws brush through her mane as it squeezes her tight.
>”You’re hurting me.”
>Any internal command to move is met with paralysis. You can only watch the one sided petting, stuck in the very middle of all three locations.
>When your orders fail to drive your legs, you turn to pleading. The personal bargains become more and more insane with each passing stroke Anonymous makes. When the fangs shine out of Anonymous’ mouth as it slowly opens, you resort to frantic wishing.
>Just a little control, that’s all you need. You can help; you HAVE to help.
‘Just respond body! Please let me save her!’


>Teeth pierce Fluttershy’s neck, and all fight leaves your body as you watch in horror. Still belligerent, your legs will not even allow you to slump to the ground.
>The clawed hand continues brushing Fluttershy’s mane as she goes limp. You instantly fear the worst, but are too far away to tell her condition.
>A sudden presence seeps out from behind, making itself known. With well practiced steps it confidently approaches.
>”So this is what you fear.”
>The candor in the tone gives as much of a clue as the delicate yet absolute character of her voice. You don’t need to turn around to confirm your guess, but you really want to; if for nothing else than to have some mastery of your own body.
>”Is this the path you see before us? Is this why you cried out?”
>You want to tell her, but your inability is infinite. Why doesn’t she free you, or at least move to where you can see her?
>”Hmmm, I see. Do not forget that there are more friends you can count on, Twilight Sparkle.”
>The strange air around you begins to fade, the crawling sense of abandonment gradually being restored.
>”There is still more to see.”
“Luna, wait!”

>Spinning around you, find yourself alone. There is no time to bother realizing you can move again; the only important thing is to go help. Remembering the fact that you have wings, you signal for them to unfurl. When nothing happens you hurriedly glance to your side and find the vacant smoothness of your regular self.
>Every second is of the essence. Paying the discovery zero consideration, you fling your attention to the hill. As soon as you turn back around you see a bandersnatch creeping out of the woods towards Anonymous.
>You only allow your eyes to blink once before you force them to stay open. The stance you previously held as you prepared to run forward locks steady at your demand. Every nerve in your brain fires up and waits.


>Anonymous notices the bandersnatch’s approach and stands upright; ready to oppose the beast. The new height of this lumbering giant could account for three Celestia’s, horn included. The bandersnatch feverishly accepts the challenge, and does not waste a moment in launching an attack.
>A whirling maw flies towards Anonymous, propelled by the elastic neck. Inconceivable speed shoves the weapon faster than the immense biped can react, the razor teeth finding easy penetration in the vulnerable skin of an arm. In response, the giant makes a booming howl of pain, and a balled fist swings near the elongated neck. Just before contact the speedy beast retracts to safety, leaving behind marred flesh.
>The hulking colossus strides after the enemy, arms flailing wildly. Each step rattles the ground, but the bandersnatch easily finds its footing. Wide, outstretched arms, convey Anonymous’ intentions; its goal to wrap up any part of the bandersnatch in its unrelenting grasp.
>While closing the distance another attack springs forth from the furry body, and the giant prepares by pulling one of its arms back.
>Low aimed jaws clamp shut around a leg, and an angry wail follows the flying punch. Again the bandersnatch pulls back, tearing at the muscle. Anonymous’ missed attack mixed with the damaged leg throws it to the ground.

>The bandersnatch dashes at the opportunity and latches onto the back of Anonymous’ neck. Now side by side the image of Anonymous appears much smaller as it gives a tiny whine. A dreadful crunch pierces your ears and hurls your stomach.
>Victorious in the deadly struggle, the bandersnatch slinks back towards the Everfree with the little creature swinging lifelessly in its mouth.
>There are no words that come to mind after witnessing the scene. The endless lost potential is unable to register with you; the only thing you can concentrate on at this moment is how badly your friends are hurt.


>Releasing the dominance you had on your legs, you run over to Fluttershy. As you get closer and closer you begin hunting for tells of the damage, the foremost hint being if she is still breathing. With each step you study her chest and stomach, mentally urging it to rise.
>With no such action taking place the entire time it takes you to get to her you delve further into high alert. When you reach her, you immediately look at her neck.
>The two empty marks of unopposed invasion leave no other signs of damage. No blood or other fluids trickle out, and the newest worry is if there was some kind of poison now destroying her insides.
>Daring the faintest touch, you brush over the two clean holes.
>”Ah.”
>A short gasp escapes her. You jerk your hoof away in shock.

>As you jump to your feet a blanket slips off your form. Cold sweat chills your aching bones, and weary nerves electrify your senses. Disorientation settles quickly, and you find an uneasy comfort being returned to the dark barn. An impatient bolt of light flings out of your horn to the back of the barn. There, sleeping on the pile of hay, lays Anonymous.
>The tension slouches out of you, and you try to sedate your anxiety. Everything is blisteringly fresh, and running on constant playback in the recesses of your mind. After giving yourself a brief summary of what in the world just happened, you calm down enough for the rest of the world to exist.
>Raindrops ting and tang against the wooden roof; an almost reliable hourglass. Every tendon screams and curls up, your ligaments pulling you right back to the floor. You give your wings a timid flex to make sure they are still there, and the burning response informs you that, yes, you are still an alicorn.


>Your physical being argues for sleep, yet your mental agent requests analysis. You already knew your worst fears; they’ve been there the whole time, but that was the first you actually ‘saw’ them.
>The dead town, the stained fields, your wounded friends. You try to push the thoughts away, but Luna’s words form an anchor. There are still others who may be able to help.
>Even though you liked to think of the princesses as your friends, there was always something invisible preventing you from truly feeling that way; a difference in standing telling you it could never be. Now as a princess yourself, you had taken over the Anon crises completely and cut them off in order to prove yourself.
>Did Luna truly see you as a friend? The same way you see your other friends? The way they saw you before the transformation?

>You’ve now been on both sides of that relationship, and you are not sure which you like less. The townponies and your own friends put you on some sort of pedestal above them; acting awkward when talking with you, always using your title and watching what they say. Thankfully, your friends were accepting enough to quickly stop, but they still watch what they say when speaking about the other princesses. Everyone else in town still has that stiff demeanor around you, though.
>You’re not any different other than a pair of wings, and yet the other princesses are very important and busy ponies. It still seems impossible that you were the one to be chosen as Celestia’s student. And now here you are; the one responsible for everypony in regards to Anonymous. But you wouldn’t have made a lick of progress if it wasn’t for the help of your friends. They’re the special ones, and they should know that.
>Your aches groan out at the victory of your reflective side, but you won’t keep them awake long. So far your friends have put you on the right track time and time again, why refuse a helping hoof? You’ll go visit the princesses.


>Neurons buzz in protest as you let out a yawn. They will not go peacefully either; there’s more they want to consider.
>Anonymous plays a unique part in all of this; the focal point of both your fears. Although very serious concerns, they are both baseless. Not a single pony has been harmed, and you have stepped in to protect Anonymous many times. A fiery resolve wells up within you, a previous question finding a sudden answer.
>Would you put your life at risk before Anonymous’?
>You’re done seeing Anonymous as anything but a different looking pony. You will extend the same courtesies you give your friends, and every single pony. If their life is in danger, than yes, you will absolutely put yourself in harm’s way. You instinctively did that very thing when the bandersnatch attacked.
>The memory no longer drums up doubt and fear. You acted correctly, and had you not restrained your curiosity there would no longer be an Anonymous to worry about. The pain of that thought outweighs the agony of the fleeing flight. You’d say it is even with the aches and strain you feel now, but that’s something you are both sharing.
>Nothing inside makes you think your friends would do anything different for you. They can have no arguments over the decision.
>The answer gives you peace of mind, and the niggling curiosities over all the little details you can read into are hushed.
‘Only the important things.’
>Lifting the apple themed blanket back over you, tranquil sleep returns quickly.

 >For the second time you wake up and for the second time your body hates it. Everything hurts, if there was a way to become a glob of goo you would readily accept.
>Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Some healing magic and pills would make you feel good enough to actually move. You don’t have anything to hide; they could ask all of the questions they want.
>But you had to be sure Fluttershy would be safe.


>Bleh, why does everything that makes sense back then have a way of seeming ridiculous now?
>Did Starswirl have to go through this when making new discoveries as well? Did their logic also get turned upside down with each revelation? Being able to tell that those were mistakes is a vital part of finding the right answer, you suppose.
>Quiet murmurs emanate from the back of the barn. Anonymous has put one of the blankets between it and the hay, and the rest are covering its body. Given all that has happened, you could probably squeeze in a few more hours before you have to worry about Anonymous waking up.
>Unless it has some super-pony healing. Even if that was not a ridiculous notion, you have the fact that Anon was kept awake by the crusaders yesterday going for you as well.

>For a while you lay there, judging whether to go back to sleep or not. As the first beams of sunlight begin to pierce the crack of the door, a knock comes from the other side.
>”Hey, Twilight. You awake in there?”
“I’m awake.”
>Your voice has no strength or form. What you thought was a modest acknowledgement is little more than a gravelly whisper.
>The door partially slides open, and Applejack takes a peek down at you on the floor. Seeing you alert, she stuffs herself through the small opening.
>”So ya are up. Ain’t much of a yell ya got there, sugar cube.”
“Yu culld say that.”
>”Well Ah bet yer dyin’ ta know what the doctors said, but why don’t you come up to the house first and get some breakfast.”
>Grumbling as you attempt to wake yourself up enough to stand, you consider how to reply in as few words as possible.
Mmmmnngg. “Whut abut Anun.”
>The stifling soreness wagers against you, the bid too high for you to match. Discomfort wins the pot, and you only achieve rolling yourself over onto your side.


>”Shoot, you should stay here if yer that beat; Ah can bring somethin’ down for ya. Ah was gonna wait till Granny finishes makin’ cinnamon buns and bring some fer Anon; what with it likin’ sweets an all.”
>Tempting as the offer was, you know falling back asleep is impossible now. There’s too much on your mind with Applejack here, and you should help with breakfast. Insisting your limbs cooperate leaves them little choice.
“I’m up, I’m up.”
>”Don’t strain yerself.”
>You just mumble incoherently while rising, and Applejack rolls her eyes. She’s not the only one who can be stubborn.

>You join her by the door and the two of you head off to the house; the soggy earth underneath squishing along the way. Applejack wastes no time and begins chatting. Even though ‘bright and early’ is one of your mottos, you have nothing on Applejack.
>”Now Ah know ya hate waitin’, so I’ll get it out quick. Turns out the girls are fine as far as they could tell. Rarity’s a smooth talker alright, but ya ain’t gettin’ a full bodied test without good reason.”
>Of course, still that is very good news.
>”She’s happy enough with that, and Ah reckon I am too; settles my nerves a little. But ah tell ya, she really laid into them on the way over. Had ‘em feelin’ right upset with what they done.”
>Applejack’s standard playful huff blows out.
>”Ah don’t know how she does it; I’ll never have the heart for it. I guess Ah’m too much of a softy; couldn’t even put ‘em through a full day’s work. Gave ‘em a lunch break before the appointment and then let Applebloom help Granny with dinner when we got home.”
“Surry again, Appuljack.”
>”Now don’t ya be goin’ on about that sorry stuff. We went over it all yesterday, it’s behind us. Rarity mentioned you apologizin’ and what she said to you, and Ah agree whole heartedly. Them youngin’s need some sense.”


>She abruptly stops before the house, and you do the same.
>”Yer lucky with Spike, he’s a good kid; pretty smart, too. Ah’m bettin’ he gets that from you. He also has more patience for figurin’ himself out, though that may be on account of bein’ a dragon. He’s in a weird spot, and you’ve done a good job raisin’ him so far.”
>She says that, but it wasn’t exactly easy. There are not many books on young dragons, or dragons in general. He is a good boy, but you never want to go through a dragon teething stage again.
>”When he ends up doin’ somethin’ equally foolish you may be angry, but don’t go beatin’ yerself up over it, and don’t hold it against him. Kids will be kids and they still have a lot left ta understand. That don’t right excuse ‘em, though. Heck, even grownups still do dumb things. Why, if Granny found out some of the stuff we did she’d tan my hide.”
>You’ll admit there are some choice events you have been careful to leave out when talking with your parents. You’re already considering one or two to exclude from the past few days.
“Thanks Appuljak. Ah’ll keep that en mund. Ahppleblum is lucky tu haf yuu.”
>The tenderness of your throat is more severe than you expected. Note to self: avoid long sentences.

>Entering the house, you find Granny Smith and Applebloom in the kitchen already hard at work. Granny Smith is holding a wooden spoon in her hoof and stirring the mixture while Applebloom brings her the next ingredient.
>”Howdy dear.”
>”Mornin’ Twilight.”
“Gud murning.”
>The bag of flour bounces atop Applebloom’s head as she trots across the kitchen floor.
>”Ya don’t look so good. No worries, one of Granny’s cinnamon rolls will fix you right up.”
>Are they all this lively in the morning? There’s barely sunlight at this hour. The only one possibly still in bed is Big Mac.


“Need any help?”
>Granny Smith ceases stirring and places her hoof along with the spoon against her ear.
>”Whatcha say? You’ll have ta speak in ta my good ear.”
>Little Applebloom dumps off the flour on to the countertop Granny Smith is working at.
>”She’s askin’ ta help, Granny.”
>”Oh, well ain’t much ta do right now. Hafta wait for the dough. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the mean time.”
>At the very least you’ll grab some juice. Hopefully that will give some relief to your throat and voice. You’ll pass on eating anything; don’t want to spoil your appetite before the cinnamon rolls.

>While you move to the fridge, Applejack returns to the door.
>”I’m gonna help Big Mac out in the fields getting’ things ready fer today. Shouldn’t take long, we’ll be back in a bit.”
>Figures he’s up and already working too. Applejack leaves without any fanfare, and Applebloom takes the opportunity to join you at the table. She sets her wide eyes on you, leaving Granny to knead the dough.
>”Where’s Anonymous?”
“Still sleeping.”
>”You don’t think we’re in danger, do ya Twilight?”
>Hmm? Is she concerned about something Rarity or Applejack said? Or maybe the trip to the doctors has her spooked.
“Whut did the ductur say?”
>”They said we were right as rain, then Rainbow Dash flew off in a hurry.”
>Hee.
“Sunds like yur gud then.”
>”That’s what they say. Ah want to know what you think.”
“I thenk yuu’re fine.”
>”Is Anonymous dangerous?”
>Okay, there is something going on here. Applebloom’s burdened gaze is both sincere and wishful, trying their best to coax out the truth from you. You don’t want to inadvertently go against what the others might have said, but it is time to set the record straight.
“No.”
>Her gentle expression switches to uncontrolled excitement. Whatever she was hoping for your answer surely gave it a chance.


>”Ah knew it. Some of the things Rarity said got me thinkin’. Anonymous can live here with us.”
>How did she come to that conclusion? The demand of your raspy voice for an answer comes out more as a request.
“Whut makes yuu say that?”
>”It’s already sleepin’ in the barn, we have plenty of food, and earth ponies are tough. We’re all earth ponies, and there’s no one else around for a good while. Plus we got lots of room for it to roam around.”
>Part of you finds her slightly crazy, but another side is actually weighing the suggestion. If the princesses haven’t found anything you are going to need a more long term plan. This is a lot to mull over for so early in the day.
>Applebloom takes your silence as an indication that you are receptive of her idea.
>”That way everyone’s happy. You don’t have to worry about us; we deal with creatures like timberwolves all the time.”
>Granny’s lazy gaze over the dough she was working over bounces frantically around the room.
>”What about timberwolves? They lookin’ fer trouble, cause I’ll give them trouble.”
>”There’s no timberwolves, Granny. I was just talking to Twilight about Anonymous.”
 >The impromptu fighting stance of the old green mare vanishes, and she sets the dough aside to rise.
 >”Anonymous? That the one critter you girls keep fussin’ over? Don’t know why you bunch got yer tails all twisted over it. Back in my day we found strange things from the forest every day.”
 >”What’d you do?”
>”We let ‘em be, and they left us alone for the most part.”
>Granny Smith isn’t THAT old. Didn’t they at least send a report to Princess Celestia? More importantly, they were using the same kind of plan Fluttershy and you came up with.

“Ever any problems?”
>Saying a proper O causes a drop of fire, but your deep interest forces you to speak as proper as you can.


>”Ho, ho, on occasion. Timberwolves, owlbears, hodags and the sort ain’t exactly welcoming. Had ta chase them off many times, but they eventually figured we weren’t movin’.”
>The kitchen door opens, and in steps Applejack alongside Big Mac. Winowa dashes in with the pair as well.
>”Anonymous isn’t like those other critters, Granny. It’s not just runnin’ around fer a meal and happy enough keepin’ to itself. It’s more like a dog than a timberwolf.”
>”If’n that’s the case I see even less reason to be so worked up.”
>” Ya can’t be too careful when strange things just show up out of nowhere.”
>”Pish-posh, worry too much and you just end up makin’ yourself sick.”
>”Eeyup.”
>Thanks for the support Big Mac.
>How can you explain in detail without hurting your throat more? The juice and short sentences have helped, but the scratchiness remains. A subject such as Anonymous’ natural behavior requires more than a few words.
>Do you have anything to explain? If Granny Smith has seen new creatures regularly, than this may just be another instance to her. No matter how much you learn about something you will always want more, but you are aware that not everypony shares your love of knowledge.
>You’ll keep your mouth shut.

>The family makes small talk while waiting on the dough, and you mostly just listen in. Your voice didn’t feel like participating today. Applejack and Granny Smith discussed some of the recent events in town and the plans for the season while Big Mac and Applebloom nodded here and there. Applebloom would sometimes chime in, though she never did bring up her suggestion to you about letting Anonymous stay here.
>That remains the biggest thing on your mind. Things have been…not terrible so far, and if your hunch is correct the group of you have the most experience handling Anon; admittedly as little as that is.


>Two days hardly accounts for expertise and the other nations may find your monopoly on the new species unfair.
>Politics has never been one of your favored interests, especially the current kind. You’re not sure how this will all go over if you follow through, but a part of you desires nothing more than keeping Anon nearby. For now you can only hope for such an outcome; the other princesses will have to make that judgment call. They have the experience, you will follow their lead.
>Speaking of, you need to visit them sometime soon. Luna’s message remains strong in your thoughts, yet your muscles revolt against any notion of travel. Maybe not today.
>With a crack of her back Granny Smith rises out of her seat and checks on the dough. Finding the size adequate, she begins punching it down before placing it on the floured counter top.
>”Dough’s nice n ready. Applejack, get the oven started for me deary.”

>Applejack does just that, and Applebloom sprints to the cupboard; ginormous bow flinging about. Finding her prize quickly, she emerges from the cabinet carrying a bag of sugar. She catches your inquisitive stare, and merrily answers without pause.
>”Ah’m makin’ the frosting.”
“Want help?”
>”Nah, I got it.”
>You and Big Mac sit at the table watching the three go about preparing breakfast; the whirling mixer managed by Applebloom buzzing about. Ordinarily you would be itching for some way to assist, but today you were happy to sit back. Despite the organized ruckus you very well could end up falling asleep in your chair; Big Mac being the only real distraction you have.
>Part of you expects now to be the time Big Mac decides to be chatty, but his stoicism holds strong. Other than the casual smile on his face there is no clue what he might be thinking about. Then again, you were always terrible at guessing how boys thought.
>How can someone think about nothing?
>Having an older brother helped zero in that regard, as well.


>When the sound of the mixer dies down you notice Applebloom sneak a bit of the frosting from the bowl. The act reminds you of when you would do the same as a filly whenever your mom baked. Sometimes you would have to ‘duel’ your brother for the first taste; a game of magic tricks, projecting items to face off like chess pieces.
>Your dad encouraged the play as a way to practice your magic and creative thinking. Of course, mom would always offer suggestions to the one losing; usually your brother. That’s not to say you didn’t have your own assistant. A teasing smirk slides into place as your vision blurs and your ears relax; the voices or yesteryear as clear as day.

>’String ties bird.’
>A magical line wraps around your illusionary bird, and the bird poofs out of existence.
>’Scissors cut string.’
>Popping in from out of nowhere, a fake pair of scissors cut Shining Armor’s string and it disappears like the bird.
>’Water rusts scissors.’
>’Sponge absorbs water.’
>’Lance pierces sponge’
>Lance? How do you beat a lance? He’s using weapons again, the big cheater.
>’What do we do Miss Smartypants?’
>Your wise assistant held at your side shares her secrets with you providing just the counter for your brother’s Cheaty McCheating ways.
>’Uh-huh, yeah….Brilliant~ Wall blocks lance.’
>’Hammer breaks down wall.’
>’Force field blocks hammer.’
>Shining Armor tries assault after assault against your magical shell to no avail. That cookie batter is yours!
>’What about a dispel?’
>’Mooooooooooooooom.’
>’Dispel breaks force field, Ah-ha!’
>’No fair, Mom helped you.’
>’Have an answer for that, Twiley?’
>Stupid cocky buttface.
>’Got anything Miss Smartypants?’
>Her silence is disheartening. None of your magic is stronger than his, he could dispel anything you try. It doesn’t even have a form you can attack like the sponge. You can’t think of anything.


>Mom does what every Mom does, and breaks the standstill without picking sides.
>’Now you two, it’s only play. I have just enough left over that you can each have a spoon.’
>’I shoulda won.’
>’Twilight, how about I teach you how to actually cast a dispel after I clean up? Would you like that?’
>Projecting representations of spells was fun, but THIS would be a real spell!
>’YES!’
>’Give me a few minutes and we can go to the study.’
>You heavily nod and go about enjoying your spoon of cookie dough. Shining finishing his quickly.
>’It’s okay you didn’t win, Twiley, you almost got me. That shield was pretty good; I’m going to have to steal it.’
>’Don’t steal it! It’s mine!’
>’Nah-uh!’
>’Shining!’
>He runs off laughing, and you give angry chase while carrying your cherished treat and doll.

>You let out a small chuckle at the memory. Ah, those were simpler times, where your only care in the world was having fun. Then came school, becoming Celestia’s student, being a bearer of one of the elements of harmony, and now a princess. When did life become so complicated?
>A waft of baking cinnamon and sugar pacifies your brain’s attempt to rebuild stress. Your eyes pop open and look longingly at the golden brown buns emerging from the hot oven. Applebloom quickly sets to work applying the glaze with a large mixing spoon.
>The door creaks open, and it seems the scent has attracted four more. Rarity, Sweetie Belle, Rainbow Dash, and Scootaloo enter the kitchen with a hum of desire. The two fillies cannot hide their cravings, while Dash resembles the walking dead and Rarity is as collected as always. Sweetie’s adolescent age cracks through her excitement.

>”Mmmm, that smells good. What^cha making?”


>Rarity immediately chimes in with her usual calm grace.  For whatever reason they are here so early, she has visibly taken the time to wake up and get herself in order. No split ends, bags under her eyes, nor tiredness in her words.
>”It’s ‘what are you making’, not ‘whatcha making’.”

>Applebloom spits out the spoon and passes the tray off to Granny.
>”We made cinnamon rolls!”
>”They just gotta sit for a spell. You youngins take a seat.”
>Rainbow Dash slumps in the seat next to you, mumbling while her bead bobs up and down.
>”Who gets up at this hour?”
>The rest join you at the table and exchange good mornings. You respond to the best of your ability, offering a rough ‘morning’ once for the group. Rarity is sprightly enough to take a tiny jab at your condition.
>”What’s the matter dear, cat got your tongue?”
>Unfortunately for her you’ve been up for a while now yourself. A sparse heat pushes against your head as you charge your horn. Discounting the strain, you try to think of a smarmy image to project. In a twist of fate, you find your horn equally as uncooperative as your throat. The best you can do is a flickering caricature of Opalescence.
>That was embarrassingly unexpected. The ineffective presentation causes Rarity to snicker, whereas each of the crusaders let out a parade of requests for other figures to try. Applejack gives a solitary roll of her eyes, and Rainbow continues to try fight off falling asleep. Granny Smith remains occupied with the cinnamon rolls while Big Mac is, well, Big Mac.

>What’s got Rarity so rosy today?
“Bah.”
>”I’m just teasing. I take it you are not feeling good?”
“Nut grate.”
>”Ahh. I’m assuming Applejack has already told you the news.”
>About the doctors? Yeah.
Mmhmm.
>”Good, good. And you’ll be happy to hear that little Spike was an absolute peach yesterday. He even made breakfast for us before we left.”


>Sweetie Belle quickly interjects.
>”There’s still room for cinnamon buns.”
>”Yes, we couldn’t pass up on such a treat.”
>If you know your baby dragon, and you’re pretty sure you do, he thinks he was being smooth. Still, he does have good manners, and that’s something you’re always happy to hear. Looks like his buttering up might have actually had some results, too. Given what Rarity told you of Sweetie Belle’s cooking, she doesn’t wake up to a ready, and edible, breakfast often.
>But why are they here?

>How best can you ask your question? Normally you would be welcoming and inquisitive like ‘Oh hi everybody, what brings you here?’ but you don’t really feel up to that. Blurting out ‘Why are you here?’ even without the raspy voice might sound mean. Is there another way you could say it, something direct and neutral? Or maybe you could give a sign?
>Urhg, don’t they know how much you can’t stand not knowing what’s going on?
>As you continue to analyze and overanalyze the many ways to ask a simple question, Granny Smith dings a triangle she got from who knows where. The three Apples at the table instantly respond, rushing to the counter before she can cry out.
>”Come n git it!”
>Does she have to be so loud?
>Rainbow shoots alive at the commotion, frantically searching for the source.
>”I’m awake, I’m awake!”
>The two other fillys laugh as they pass by, Rarity casually walking behind the trouble train with a smile. When Rainbow turns to you for answers, you motion her towards the food with your head.
>”Oh, sweet.”
>She’s off in no time leaving you the only one left at the table. You should probably get up too, but not moving sounds nicer. Maybe once everyone sits back down you can attempt to magic over a plate. You should still be able to do that much.


>Having decided to wait, you give your eyes a rest and meditate on the coming day. If Anonymous still isn’t awake you might just go back to bed. A duo of plates clang against the table forcing your eyes open.
>Applejack is the first to return, and you barely notice the second plate in front of you.
>”Figured ya might like the delivery.”
>You give a nod and a hum of approval. With a soft glow, your magic proves capable enough to at least carry small objects. The warm dough nudges you to take a big bite, the melted frosting nearly dripping from the bun.
>Although you generally balance your diet, the tantalizing flavor floods through your system. As the treat travels down to your belly, it thaws the aches along the way. Today you would be willing to eat nothing but comfort food.

>The toasty sensation you are left with at the end of the meal puts your body right on the edge of awake and asleep. At this point you are not sure which state is true.
>Applejack goes through half of hers in one bite, enthusiastically chowing down so quick you wonder if she even has the chance to taste it. She’s up and back twice with another piece before everyone else sits down.
>”Thanks fer offerin’ ta help around the farm fer the week. You-know-what has put us a little behind.”
>Rainbow grumbles while Rarity is all smiles.
>”Think nothing of it; it will keep me busy while things are slow, and I’m sure the girls are thrilled to help. Isn’t that right?”
>”Yeeeees”
>Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo each give a forced and drawn out reply. Knowing Rarity, she probably plans to ‘supervise’ while making the crusaders work. That explains three out of four, what’s Rainbow’s story?
>When you look at her you see frosting and crumbs all over her face. She was devouring the cinnamon rolls almost as much as Applejack. Catching your curious stare she wipes her face, her joy turning to boredom as she reads your nonverbal question.


>”I owe Rarity a favor so I’m stuck here too.”
>For a week?!
>The surprise in your eyes seems to tip her off.
>”Yes, for a week.”
>That must be some favor. What could she—
>”And part of that favor is keeping quiet.”
>Drats.

>While you sit there in contemplation, the rest begin to stand, ready to start the day.
>”Ah reckon we oughta get goin. We got a lot of catchin’ up ta do.”
>Big Mac holds the door open for the rest, and directs the newcomers.
>”Wagon’s in the back field.”
>As they all head out all that is left is you and Granny. She grabs the cinnamon roll she had put aside and lightly covered, the gesture preserving its warmth.
>”Now where’s this Anonymous critter of yours? I haven’t seen it yet myself.”
>Doesn’t she remember Applejack telling her you would be in the barn? She also saw Anon yesterday. Did she actually think it was some kind of saddle?
>“Old Granny’s just pullin’ one over on ya. You don’t worry about it, rest that voice of yours. Here, I saved this one for it. Next time bring it in ta the house with ya. I won’t bite, but my dentures might.”
>She has herself a laugh, and you nod while grabbing the plate in your aura. Granny may be in on Applebloom’s idea after all. If Anonymous feels up to it, you’ll bring it up for lunch or dinner.
>With a wave goodbye, you carry the gift off to the barn.