Twilight Sparkle entered the train, but as Spike followed her lead, he looked back at Twilight’s parents. Night Light’s eyes weren’t trained at him—thank Celestia—he was occupied with seeing Twilight off. But he wasn’t Spike’s main concern.

Twilight Velvet stared back.

It wasn’t a piercing, stabbing gaze. Icicles weren’t sprouting from her eyes and drilling into his head. Nonetheless, it was enough to make Spike swallow the lump in his throat.

He hurried into the train car, shoving fellow passengers’ legs out of the way and cupping his coffee with both his claws. Eventually, he reached the rear right corner of the car: Twilight’s usual spot when traveling without her friends. After climbing up a vacant seat, Spike sipped from his coffee and relaxed his eyelids. The train jostled under him, the brakes disengaging and the wheels clattering. He had barely settled in before he took one last instinctive glance out the window.

Velvet was still staring at him. It was the look of careful calculation—like a sniper studying her prey.

As the train snaked its way down the slopes of the Canterlot outskirts, Spike shrank just a little lower in his seat. He felt like his soul was left behind on the bench back at the train station.