“Did anyone hear that?” Sweet Stuff asked. A small herd of ponies had gathered in the living room to watch the late late movie on television.
“What?” mumbled Lofty, not taking her eyes off the TV screen.
“What?” mimicked Mimic, equally as enthralled in the movie.
“That sound,” Sweet Stuff said. “There was a sound from outside.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Parasol insisted.
“I did,” Wind Whistler, argued, looking toward the front doors. “I distinctly heard a thump.” She got up and trotted into the front hall and stood staring at the doors, not wanting to open them.
“Well, come on, Wind Whistler, see what it was,” Sweet Stuff urged.
“I...” Wind Whistler was, for once, without words. “Well... It was most likely nothing-”
Lofty sighed and looked up. “Well, can somebody do something? I can’t hear the movie!”
Wind Whistler took a deep breath and pulled open the doors. She gasped at the sight of the lavender pony, who lay very still on the front stoop. “Oh, dear,” Wind Whistler said gravely. “Come here,” she called to the other ponies. “I need your help.”
The late late movie was forgotten as all the ponies gathered around Wind Whistler. Within minutes they managed to carry the lavender pony inside Paradise Estate and into the nearest bedroom. They placed her on the bed and Parasol checked her pulse. “I don’t think she’s hurt,” Parasol said after a moment. “I believe she collapsed from exhaustion.”
“But who is she?” Lofty asked.
“Who is she?” mimicked Mimic.
“I don’t know,” Wind Whistler said. “Sweet Stuff, check her symbol.”
“Um, what symbol?” Sweet Stuff asked in an odd, confused voice.
In shock, all the other ponies looked where Sweet Stuff had been staring. It was true; the lavender pony had no symbol.
“Oh my gosh...” murmured Lofty.
“Does this mean...” Parasol began.
“Yes.” Wind Whistler said solemnly. “She’s obviously not our dear Ember; therefore, she’s a fakie.”
“Ack! A fakie?” Sweet Stuff screamed, recoiling away from the lavender pony.
“She’s harmless, Sweet Stuff,” Wind Whistler said quickly. “She’s nothing to be afraid of. Poor dear, she doesn’t have a wonderful herd where she belongs, not like we do. Where My Little Ponies have hundreds of friends, fakies are lucky if they have even a few. They are very lonely creatures.”
“Well, what’s she doing here?” Lofty asked crossly.
“I don’t know,” Wind Whistler admitted, “but it looks like she’s coming around. Perhaps she can tell us.”
The lavender pony groaned and her eyes fluttered open. “Where... Where am I?”
“Hello,” Wind Whistler said softly. “Don’t be afraid. We’re trying to help you. You’re in Paradise Estate, in Ponyland.”
A tired grin spread across the lavender pony’s face. “Really? Ponyland? I made it, then? It exists?”
“Well, of course it exists, you twit,” Lofty muttered. Parasol frowned and nudged her.
“I can’t believe it,” the lavender pony continued. “For years I heard tales of a land full of ponies, but I never knew if it was true. I had a nice enough home myself, with a little girl. She had three other ponies besides me and they were my only friends. But then the girl grew up and one day my friends and I found ourselves sitting on a table out in the sun. The table had a sign that said “.25 each.” And one by one people came and picked up my friends and carried them away, and then I was alone. I didn’t want to be taken away, too, so I jumped off the table and began to run. I decided I was either going to find that legendary land of ponies or die trying. And here I am! Can I stay?”
“This isn’t Fakieland,” Lofty grumbled. Parasol frowned again and stomped hard on Lofty’s hoof.
“Well,” Wind Whistler said, “I’d say yes, only you’re not really one of us. We’re My Little Ponies, you see.” And she turned around so that the lavender pony could see her symbol.
“Oh...” The lavender pony’s eyes filled with tears.
“But wait!” Parasol chimed in. “Maybe we can help you! What’s your name?”
“The girl always called me Cotton Candy,” the lavender pony said, her voice full of hope again.
“Hmmm... No good,” Sweet Stuff said. “We’ve already got one of those here. How about Spun Sugar?”
“Sounds good to me,” the lavender pony agreed, “but what about my symbol?”
“It’s time to call in Baby Graffiti!” Parasol exclaimed. “Someone go get her, and tell her to bring her permanent markers!”
Sweet Stuff ran off and returned with a sleepy-eyed Baby Graffiti, who took out her markers and proceeded to sketch a lovely picture of spun-sugar-on-a-stick on the lavender pony’s sides. Then she carefully wrote “Hasbro” on the bottom of one of the lavender pony’s hooves. The lavender pony giggled. “That tickles!”
“And there you are!” Wind Whistler said. “You are now an honorary My Little Pony! Welcome to the herd!”