The Chase

Bucky Bitters struggles to escape the airborne affections of Derpy Hooves after a chance encounter caused them to bump noses together. His real mistake was trying to comfort the mare after the snoot-bump. Little does the poor stallion realise that their meeting was only the prologue to a journey that will change not only his life, but the lives around him forever.

This story is a sequel to The Catch


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“Are you sure that this will work?” One eye narrow, one eye wide, Rumble looked at the cobbled together contraption. Scootaloo had done something weird to her scooter. It no longer had wheels, but runners in the rear and a single ski up in the front for steering.

“Look here, Leftovers, I’m telling you, it will work. I just need a pony to pull it. Think of this as a training opportunity.” Scootaloo grinned at Rumble and then patted her scooter. “Now hurry up, we’ll be late for school.”

“I have to pull you to school?” Rumble kicked the snow and then let out a groan.

“Seniority, Leftovers, seniority.” Scootaloo began tying a simple harness around Rumble’s body. As she tightened a strap, she leaned her head over and kissed Rumble right on his ear.

Rumble’s ears perked straight up, becoming fully ear-ect.

Grinning, Scootaloo got on her scooter, gripped the handlebars with her fetlocks, braced her hind hooves on the running board, and watched as Rumble lurched forwards, pulling the strap connecting him to the scooter taut. The scooter lurched a bit, took off, and then the ride smoothed out as Rumble began picking up speed.

Soon enough, the town of Ponyville was almost a blur as the pair surged forwards, Rumble bounding through the fresh fallen snow and Scootaloo hanging on for dear life. She had expected some speed, but she hadn’t expected this much speed.

And then, at some point when Sugarcube Corner was in view, Rumble found his rhythm, going from a fast canter to a full steam gallop. Scootaloo was forced to redouble her grip to keep hanging on. Rumble had always been a fast one, but there was a marked improvement in his speed with even just a few days of hard training, most of which had been done by his own mother, Flitter.

Rumble bounded through the snow, his wings flapping, his mouth open, and his nostrils flared open wide for maximum air intake. Lean muscle rippled under his silver grey pelt. His mane and tail streamed out behind him as he continued to pick up speed.

The filly on the scooter played it cool. She kept a good grip, leaned in to the corners when they happened, and she enjoyed the feeling of her snow scooter carving into the corners. There was nothing quite as satisfying as leaning her scooter down as much as it would go, the handlebars inches from the snow, and then recovering, pulling up as Rumble continued his relentless onslaught forwards.

With a cheer, Scootaloo blasted past the sleigh pulling a load of foals to the school.



Ignoring the whinny from the door, Harper paid no attention to Cadance, who wanted to play, and instead pressed her ear up against Derpy’s belly. There was a faint crackle of static, which caused Derpy’s mane and tail to become fuller, fluffing out.

Standing in the door to the nursery, Cadance let out another impatient whinny. It was time for after breakfast playtime. She let out a frustrated nicker and then when she realised that her playmate was not coming, Cadance took off to find her own adventures, leaving Harper and Derpy alone.

“How?” Harper asked, tapping on Derpy’s stomach.

“Oh, it’s very magical,” Derpy replied, her eyes twinkling with merriment.

“Did I?” Harper turned and looked at Derpy, her ears flat back against her skull.

Thinking of Harper’s birth, Derpy felt a pang, but kept her smile. She nodded. “Yes, Harper, you came out of a tummy. All foals do. The world is a very dangerous place, and a mother’s tummy is safe for a foal when they are teeny tiny.”

“Harpy was teeny tiny?” Harper sat back on her haunches, balanced, and then pressed her front hooves together as she began to think of what Derpy had said.

“Harpy was very teeny tiny. You were so small and fuzzy wuzzy. Everypony loved you. You made your mamamama very happy,” Derpy said.

Harper’s expression darkened. “Harpy miss mamamama.”

“I know.” Derpy reached out and pressed her hoof into Harper’s stomach and then gave it a rub. “I miss Bucky too.”

“How Harpy get in there?” the foal asked, pointing to Derpy’s belly.

“A very special kind of magic brought about by love.” Derpy felt Harper’s forelegs wrap around her foreleg and squeeze. “When two ponies love each other a whole lot, a little foal is made. They share a little bit of each other, give up just a little piece of themselves, and from those pieces and from that love, a little foal is made.”

“Harpy want inside. Want to see foals.”

“Oh no… Harper can’t go inside, Harper is too big. I’m sorry, Harper.”

“But Harper want inside. Want to play.”

“Harper, no, there is no way inside,” Derpy said.

“What foals do to get in there?” Harper asked, her brows furrowing as she made a massive leap of logic for her age.

“What did you have for breakfast?” Derpy asked, changing the subject.

“Mango jelly. Toast. Eggies.” Harper rolled over onto her back and pressed her ear against Derpy’s belly.

“You really love mangos…”

“Yep. Harpy love mangos.” Harper’s eyes closed and she snuggled closer to Derpy’s side, her ear flickering as she listened. “What feel like?”

A serene smile crept over Derpy’s face. “Right now, it feels like they are sleeping.”



“Come back here, your pelt is all matted and you need a good brushing!” Thistle took off after Cadance and tried once more to catch the foal. She pounced, almost had Cadance, but then Cadance bounded away. Thistle grunted. “I will not have a scruffy looking foal! It makes me look like a bad mother!”

Thistle took the brush she was holding in her folded fetlock and placed it between her teeth so she would have all four legs available. She took off after Cadance, who ran down the hall. Thistle lept again, and Cadance doubled back, her hooves skidding along the wooden floor. Thistle growled around the handle of the brush and took off in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile, Cadance giggled, circled around, avoided Thistle, and took off at a run towards the front of the house. Her ethereal mane and tail bubbled out little pink hearts that popped in the air, leaving behind the perpetual scent of roses everywhere that Cadance went.

Berry Punch lumbered out of the living room archway, trying to block Cadance, but Cadance darted between Berry’s legs, reaching out a wing as she ran beneath, she tickled Berry’s stomach. Berry began to laugh and she wobbled as she tried to get away from Cadance.

Thistle had to come to a skidding halt to avoid slamming into Berry Punch. She sidestepped, braced her legs, and pounced. She caught Cadance in a flying tackle. She bore Cadance down to the floor, pinning her, and Thistle wrapped her front legs around Cadance’s body. Cadance, for all of her seeming fragility, was much sturdier than she looked, and much stronger than one expected. Using her hind legs, she hooked her hooves onto Thistle’s left foreleg, strained, grunted, and then Cadance popped free. She flapped her wings and took off running, letting out a triumphant whinny.

“Ugh, you little monster!” The hairbrush clattered to the floor, having fallen out of Thistle’s mouth.

“Get her Thistle! We can’t show weakness! If we do, we’ll be overrun!” Berry Punch got out of the way and watched as the kelpie recovered her hooves.

Sitting on the sofa, Sukari watched all of this, her blue eyes wide, her ears perked forwards. There was too much commotion going on and Sukari considered returning to her box to become a turtle once more.

Deciding that enough was enough, Thistle held nothing back when she tackled Cadance again. Thistle engaged in an epic huggle struggle. Having learned some of Cadance’s tricks, the kelpie wrapped one foreleg down around Cadance’s lower stomach, down in a spot where the foal could not get leverage with her hind legs. The other foreleg wrapped around Cadance’s barrel and snaked between Cadance’s front legs. Thistle rolled over onto her back so Cadance would have no floor to brace her legs against.

“Berry, help me!”

“Hang on, I’m coming!”

The pudgy, pregnant earth pony mare stood beside Thistle and looked down at Cadance, who was smiling. “You’re gonna pay Cadance… I know how to wear you out.”

Real fear appeared in Cadance’s eyes and she began to shake her head, a pleading look upon her face. “No no no!”

“Yes yes yes!” Berry replied as she reached out with her foreleg. She grabbed Cadance’s hind leg, pulled it out, and then pressed her lips against Cadance’s tender frog. Berry Punch blew a wet slobbery raspberry.

Cadance squealed and then exploded with spastic laughter, her wings flapping. She felt another raspberry against her frog and then, Cadance was helpless. Gasping, almost crying, Cadance howled with laughter, which winded her, making it impossible to fight back.

Berry Punch lifted her head. “Hold on to her Thistle, she might be playing possum. I’ll go get the brush.” Berry Punch looked down at the wiggling, squirming, kicking foal. “That’ll learn you for making Thistle chase after you, you little pink monster.”



Feeling queasy, Yew Wood moved with slow caution. She came down the last few stairs, paused at the bottom to allow her stomach to settle, and then continued into the living room. As she came around the corner, she saw quite a sight. Berry Punch and Thistle both were laying on the sunny patch of floor in front of the window on a spread out quilt. Both were sound asleep. Cadance was curled up, also napping, and Sukari was using Cadance as a pillow. Peekaboo was laying on Thistle’s back, draped out over her. Bell Heather was sleeping in Thistle’s forelegs. All of the foals looked well brushed, their pelts shiny, smooth, and clean.

Nearby, a hairbrush sat on the floor.

Not wanting to disturb the sleepers, Yew crept away as quiet as possible. She made her way into the kitchen instead, where she found Broom and Semillon working together. There was flour everywhere and dough was spread out on the table.

“Whatcha doing?” Yew asked.

“Making noodles,” Broom replied as she used her telekinesis to push a chair out from the table for Yew.

Grateful, Yew wobbled forward and then sat down. She eased herself into the chair, got comfortable, and then rested with her elbows propped up on the table, not at all minding the flour.

“Surprised to see you out and about,” Semillon said to Yew.

“I’m feeling a little better.” Yew offered the two older mares a smile. “Has there been any word about Door?”

For a moment, Broom’s smile faltered. Her face contorted in pain for a moment, but then her smile returned, only now it was a sad smile. “They’ve learned a fair bit, they have. Looks as though all our lives will be a bit shorter because of what was done.”

“I’m sorry.” Yew felt bad for even bringing it up.

“Think nothing of it, dearie. Do you want some food?” Broom looked over at Yew, her eyes glittering with concern.

Yew Wood shook her head. “Not at the moment. I just needed to get out of my room.”

“Understandable. You’ve been up there for days,” Semillon said as her eyebrow raised. “Lugus was in the paper.”

“He was?” Yew’s face brightened and a smile appeared upon her muzzle, it was like the sun breaking through dark clouds, bringing hope and light.

“Just a little mention. He’s been put in charge of overseeing all communications between the fleet. The reporter had a bit of an interview with Lugus. Lugus mentioned you,” Semillon replied.

“What did he say?” Yew asked, now sitting up straight and both of her front hooves clutching her barrel.

“Oh, Lugus mentioned something about some pretty pegasus back home that he loved and that he hoped was well.” Semillon smiled as she rolled out a noodle.

Yew Wood’s single surviving eye flooded with tears and her protruding bottom lip began to quiver.  “He found a way to send word back home…”

“Yes, the big lummox is quite resourceful.” Broom’s sad smile became a happy smile once more. “I miss him.”

Semillon sighed. “We have to wait and be patient. They’ll be back. It might take a while, but we have busy work around here to keep our minds occupied.”

“I think I’m feeling hungry… is there any breakfast?” Yew asked.

“Sure, you just tell me what you want, dear,” Semillon replied.





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