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                  Chapter One: Knock
                   At The Door 
                 A hoof
                  pounded insistently at the front door. Mister Provender didn't seem 
                 to want to deal with it. Let'm come back in the mornin' 
                 he grumbled before drifting off again. The pounding grew louder. 
                 Somebody would have to deal with it. Missus Provender was very awake 
                 now, so she rolled out of bed, stood up, flicked her tail at her lazy 
                 stallion husband, and ambled downstairs. What was so confounded 
                 important at this time of night? 
                 Outside 
                 her door was a large cart, and an impatient official. He was from the 
                 Newfoal Assistance And Relocation Administration. He was on a tight 
                 schedule, and he wasn't at all happy to have to wait in the snow. 
                 Missus 
                 Provender hadn't reckoned she would have any troubles, when she had 
                 signed up for a newfoal. The extra income from the Royal Treasury for 
                 'Newfoal Assistance' was certainly welcome. She didn't know what 
                 dealing with a newfoal would be like, but she felt she could handle 
                 pretty much anything. Besides, it was well understood that the 
                 Conversion Bureaus in the Human World trained and prepared newfoals 
                 before they ever set hoof in Equestria proper. She reckoned that the 
                 whole thing was basically like the Crown paying her to enjoy free 
                 help on the farm. It sounded almost too good to be true. 
                 Her 
                 newfoal was delivered in the middle of the night, in the middle of 
                 winter, without so much as a letter beforehand. 
                 It came, 
                 therefore, as a bit of a shock, when she found that the newest 
                 critter on her farm not only didn't know how to speak the language, 
                 but could barely walk. The poor creature had been part of the last 
                 rush, the final effort to convert as many of the last remaining 
                 humans as possible before Purification occurred.   
                 'Purification'
                  was some mighty fancy magic the Princesses had worked up to clean 
                 and purge the Human world once and for all. Any remaining human 
                 creatures would be dissolved, along with all the dangerous, poisonous 
                 things that they seem to have covered their world in. The way it had 
                 been described, it had seemed to Missus Provender that it was all a 
                 bit like chewin' before swallowin'. In the end, the last traces of 
                 the human's strange world would be engulfed by Equestria, vanishing 
                 forever from the cosmos in which it lay. In some way she certainly 
                 couldn't understand, this all would somehow preserve Equestria from 
                 some kind of harm, so that it would live on forever.   
                 Missus 
                 Provender never could quite see how the two worlds were supposedly 
                 linked, but she was told they were, or had been, or somethin', and 
                 the only part that mattered to her was that now she had a new income 
                 source, and a new working mare on the farm. But, now, things didn't 
                 look as good as she had pictured them when she had first signed up. 
                 The poor 
                 newfoal filly didn't even have a name. At least not one that Missus 
                 Provender could discover.  
                 When the 
                 unsteady, milk-white Earth Pony was dropped off, the newfoal 
                 administrator had explained that these last minute converts needed 
                 extra care and attention, because they had to be rushed to Equestria 
                 before the Purification, and there had been no time to train them. 
                 Missus Provender pointed out that such extra care and attention 
                 naturally demanded extra compensation, an argument that gained her a 
                 disgruntled snort, and a sharp glare.  
                 So now she 
                 didn't have a working mare so much as a baby to raise. Typical. 
                 Nevertheless, this was something she knew she could handle, having 
                 already raised three foals back in her younger days with Mister 
                 Provender. Besides, if she trained this newfoal right, then she could 
                 relax knowing with certainty that her new farm mare would do things 
                 the right way.  
                 The pale 
                 newfoal mare lay on a thin, institutional blanket in Missus 
                 Provender's kitchen. Although the former human was not by any means a 
                 child, she quivered like one, and she could not manage to stand. She 
                 seemed confused and kept slipping in and out of consciousness. The 
                 newfoal administrator had mentioned that the mare had been sedated 
                 with some Human World potion or some such nonsense, and it would take 
                 her time to recover. 
                 Missus 
                 Provender ambled to her shelves, and used her teeth to take down a 
                 nice warm comforter. She took it to the shivering mare on the floor 
                 and covered her with it. It was a little cold, being the winter 
                 months and all, and it seemed the kindly thing to do. 
                 There
                  ya go, little one The newfoal mare was not little, but Missus 
                 Provender didn't know what else to say, and in any case she figured 
                 that the tone of her words might be calming. The soft words seemed to 
                 work, and the wobbily newfoal looked up at her with unfocused 
                 sapphire blue eyes, which gradually closed. The mare's head drooped 
                 to the floor, violet curls of mane draping over the blanket. Almost 
                 instantly she fell asleep. 
                 Missus 
                 Provender pulled the comforter up closer to the newfoal's head. She 
                 took one last look at her new guest, and then trotted up the wide 
                 stairs to bed. 
                   
                   
                    
                 Bertilda, 
                 the Provender's prize rooster, woke, as usual, the two elder farmers, 
                 and they set about their morning rituals. As she clopped down the 
                 stairway, Missus Provender, suddenly remembered the newest member of 
                 her farm. There on the kitchen floor still slept the mare she had 
                 been made to take in the previous night. She thought immediately of 
                 waking her - morning is always early on the farm - but then recalled 
                 that this was a newfoal, a converted human creature. 
                 Missus 
                 Provender knew very little about the humans and their world, but she 
                 reckoned that changing form from one type of creature to another type 
                 of creature probably wasn't an easy thing to go through. She felt 
                 pity for the tousle-maned lump on her floor, and decided to let her 
                 sleep. The poor thing probably needed time to recover. Besides, 
                 letting the newfoal sleep would allow her time to make breakfast and 
                 give some thought to how to deal with the situation in general. 
                 Mister 
                 Provender clomped wearily down the stairs as Missus Provender set 
                 about baking biscuits. Biscuits were a staple at Provender Farm, and 
                 Cornflower Provender, the matriarch of the best darn little farm in 
                 all of South Withers prided herself on making the best darn biscuits 
                 in the county. She had a blue ribbon to prove it, which she had won 
                 years ago, back when she and mister Provender were still raising 
                 their three daughters, and they still ran the county fair out of 
                 Greater Fetlock, back before it was moved to Hoofington.  
                 Mister 
                 Provender, at his usual hay-bale by the window, looked out over the 
                 round, wooden table, at the sleeping mare on the kitchen floor. "Cornflower!" 
                 "What,
                  I'm makin' yer breakfast!" 
                 "Cornflower!" 
                 "I 
                 said I'm makin' breakfast, it'll be done in a moment!" Missus 
                 Provender was laying out disks of dough on her favorite pan, tapping 
                 them flat with a practiced hoof. 
                 "There's
                  somepony sleeping in our kitchen!" 
                 It took 
                 Missus Provender a moment to recall that Mister Provender hadn't been 
                 awake enough to know anything about the night before "That's our 
                 newfoal. From the Bureaus? I signed up for one a couple months ago?" 
                 "She's
                  no foal!" roared Mister Provender. 
                 "SHHHH!
                  You'll wake her!" The biscuits were in the oven now, and so 
                 Missus Provender ambled over to the table "I didn't say she was 
                 a new foal, I said she was a 'newfoal', one of them converticated 
                 human creatures turned into one'a us. That's just what they call 'em, 
                 Durum!"  
                 "Alright,
                  Cornflower, ya ain't got to get all snippy with me. Shucks. I know 
                 what a dern 'Newfoal' is, I just weren't expecting one on our floor 
                 is all." 
                 "They 
                 delivered her last night. Remember? All the racket at the door?" 
                 "Nope."
                  Durum Provender had finally given a single-word response, and after 
                 long years with the old stallion, Cornflower knew he wouldn't be any 
                 more bother. For now. 
                 While 
                 Mister Provender sat sucking his teeth at the newfoal on the floor, 
                 Missus Provender set out feed bowls and cups. She briefly thought 
                 about putting out a third bowl for the new mare, but since the mare 
                 seemed to be sleeping so soundly, she figured she could deal with 
                 such things later, if the poor thing did awaken. The smell of 
                 biscuits had a way of waking up ponyfolk, or so it had always been 
                 around Provender Farm. If the newfoal was likely to wake up, the 
                 biscuits would do it. 
                 Mister 
                 Provender sipped apple juice from his cup. Durum had to have his 
                 apple juice in the morning, or he would be a caution the rest of the 
                 day. He was like that, set in his ways, and for Missus Provender time 
                 was measured in biscuits and rooster calls and the first cup of apple 
                 juice in the morning. 
                 The smell 
                 of biscuits baking filled the roomy kitchen. A subtle morning magic, 
                 Cornflower Provender's prize-winning biscuits set Mister Provender's 
                 stomach rumbling, and his nostril's twitching. Missus Provender 
                 studied the sleeping newfoal as she waited for the timer to chime. 
                 Surely enough, the white mare's nostrils were twitching just like 
                 Durums did, and Cornflower felt a rush of pride that her biscuit 
                 magic worked even on bodily trans-converticated creatures from 
                 another world. 
                 The 
                 newfoal mare opened her eyes. She looked around, first at Missus 
                 Provender's feet, and then at her face. The newfoal began wildly 
                 looking around after that, and Missus Provender reckoned that the 
                 mare was probably frightened a little, at being in a new place. 
                 Cornflower 
                 folded her legs and lay down in front of the newfoal mare. She looked 
                 as kindly as she could, staring into the deep, blue eyes of the 
                 creature. It looked like any ordinary mare, about middle age, but 
                 with no Mark on her flank. Guess they don't have Marks in that other 
                 world, Missus Provender thought. Or maybe she'll get her's later, now 
                 she's here. "Shhh..... Shhh... it's all right honeycake, I'm 
                 makin' biscuits, if'n yer hungry. I'm right here, and everythin's 
                 gonna be alright." 
                 It was 
                 clear the newfoal didn't understand a word of Equestrian, just as the 
                 Bureau pony had said, but Cornflower knew how to deal with children, 
                 and she reckoned that this here was something like a child, being new 
                 and all, so her kindly tone and gentle eyes spoke the universal 
                 language of comfort. Cornflower gave the newfoal a kindly nuzzle, 
                 once she saw the mare relax, and then scrabbled up to check on the 
                 biscuits. A glance back assured her that the newfoal mare was indeed 
                 interested in biscuits, so she got another bowl out. 
                 The 
                 newfoal stayed put, following Missus Provender with her eyes whatever 
                 she did. Like a puppy, thought Cornflower. Guess I do have a child to 
                 raise after all. Oh well. The biscuits were done, and soon the aroma 
                 flooded the kitchen like sunshine for the nose. 
                 The 
                 nameless newfoal gobbled biscuits eagerly. It was clear she was very 
                 hungry. Missus Provender put down a bowl filled with apple juice and 
                 another with water. The newfoal was powerful thirsty, too, it seemed. 
                 For now, the mare crawled on her belly, as best she could, there was 
                 no doubt that she would need help learning how to stand, and walk. 
                 "Durum?"
                  Missus Provender gave him a determined look "I need you to take 
                 care'a things today. It looks like I got me a grown-up child to tend to!" 
                 "Yup."
                  Said Mister Provender. 
                  TO
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