Chapters Lost Within the Labyrinth
Pinkie pressed her back against the tunnel wall and peeked round the next turning. Unlike the dark stretch of the last one, the next tunnel twinkled with a dozen colours, almost like a room full of balloons.
Oh good, she thought with a sigh. Now that’s the sort of tunnel that’s got Rarity’s name all over it. See? Even those diamonds in the wall look a little like her cutie mark, except they’re not in threes like hers.
Although she’s probably not worried about pretty gems right about now. Or maybe she is. I dunno.
A howling echoed across the distance. Pinkie ducked back at once, gaze flitting across the ceiling. In the dark, she felt her eyes straining.
Nothing.
She opened her mouth to cry out, but some remnant of common sense cut her off at once. There was no way to be sure, but she suspected it wasn’t completely deaf. But she had to find her.
“Rarity, ” she said in as loud a whisper as she dared.
Someone whimpered on the cusp of hearing. Once more, Pinkie peered down the tunnel. The gemstones glowed and sparkled; there was nowhere to hide. Yet someone had definitely whimpered.
Another howl drew her back, but then her heart solidified. No. I’m here to find Rarity. That’s it. We are gonna get outta here.
Still, she could hear the echo of Rarity’s scream, even across the expanses of the last… hours? Days?
That settled it. Pinkie stepped out, prepared to bolt, and after a few seconds strode through the lights with head held high. Her rock farmer instincts whispered in her ear as she passed: Topaz blocks. Amber balls. Onyx streaks.
“Here, Rari-Rari-Rarity,” she murmured, ears cocked for the slightest sound. “Step One: Find friend. Step Two: Get outta here. I can do that easy-peasy lemon squeezy.”
The ghosts of her whispers tickled her ears: squeezy… eezy… ee-y…
Wow, I sure could do with some lemonade right about now…
Briefly halting her stride, Pinkie coughed under her hoof. The whimpering seemed to be getting louder. A nose trained by years of mining in caves twitched; she could smell the faint perfumes soothing her nasal chambers.
From her left, the words came short and sharp: “Pinkie!? Pinkie!? Where the deuce have you been!?”
Pinkie snapped her head round. Behind a bulbous mass of bubbly rubies, wedged in a crevice, Rarity’s dark blue eyes stared out at her.
“What the what now? Me? I’ve been looking for you!” Pinkie said at once.
Even through the dim shade of the crevice, Rarity was a mess. Her hair no long curled but frayed at the edges. Dust coated her white legs. Both eyes were bloodshot.
Ignoring the quiver of the irises before her, Pinkie stretched her smile as far as she dared. They were together again. After hours… or was it days… of dark nothingness, this was the dawn. Suddenly, she could see the future again.
Ignoring the tremble in her own legs, ignoring the soaked sweat along her own coat, ignoring the twinge where her own tattered hairs bobbed into her eyes, Pinkie tried to grin until her heartbeat relaxed. Rarity was still staring.
“I had no trouble getting around,” Pinkie said. “This is just like my time back on the rock farm. My sisters and I always used to go snooping around Miner’s Maze. With all those stalagmites and things, we could play Hide and Go Seek for weeks and still find new places to tuck in!”
“Good,” hissed Rarity, who wriggled to get her chest and waist out of the crevice. “Now let’s play Hide from the Nightmare and Go Seek the Way Out.”
“Got it, Foremare Rare!” Pinkie saluted, wincing at the ache in her elbow.
With a pop, Rarity stumbled out of the crevice. At once, her limbs stiffened. Both ears swivelled. She glanced down the tunnel behind her, and then craned her head to see past Pinkie.
“These… games you played,” she whispered. “Well, being a veteran of the subterranean, you would – I imagine – have some hitherto-undisclosed skills in navigating…” Rarity gritted her teeth. “Caves. Yes?”
Pinkie pouted. “I dunno. I never really thought about it. It’s a cool idea, though. Wanna try it out?”
Another howl echoed along the tunnel. Panic sparked across Rarity’s face.
“Or an amazing memory, or some magnetic sensing power?” she said at once. One eyelid twitched.
Don’t panic. Pinkie fought not to turn around or stiffen. She’s just being Rarity. We’ll get out of here. We always get out of a tight spot. Literally! Rarity just got out of one! See? How hard can it be?
Besides, she might not be wrong. Rock farmers like me can do all kinds of things. This is practically home to me. Even though I have no idea where we are, or what we’re doing, or what’s up with this freaky cave thing…
“And we’ll get our mission done too!” she blurted out.
Immediately, Rarity hissed between her teeth. “Oh, please! Stuff the mission, Pinkie. We’ll be lucky if even we – I mean, we’ll have our hooves full just getting ourselves out of here.”
If we’re getting out. Pinkie shook her head until her lips flapped. Nope! Bad thought! Bad thought!
“I mean, I haven’t seen anyone yet,” she said, “but there must be someone in these caves. And we’re troopers. We ain’t leavin’ no ponies behind, am I right?”
Her genial wink wasn’t having any effect; Rarity kept swivelling her ears, looking back and forth, her limbs stiff. Perhaps she was still adjusting to having a pony nearby again, after so many hours or days. Pinkie’s mind drew out a checklist.
Now, if I know Rarity – which I do – she’ll have a “woe is me” moment. Then she’ll panic a bit. Then she’ll steel herself and be all “a lady does not lose her composure”. And then, then she comes up swinging. Give her time…
“Well?” snapped Rarity. Suddenly, she was no longer flicking her gaze back and forth. “Are we moving, or are we standing around all day?”
Or, you know, she skips to the last step. Um…
“Come, come! Pinkie, this is your moment to shine! Let your geological know-how show how we’re escaping this pit. The humidity is ruining my complexion. And I think I’ve got a pimple coming on.”
“Oh, pimples and complexions are small stuff. Once we get out of here, the spa’ll clear that right up.”
Divorced from her own words, Pinkie’s jaw skewed. We’re not in that much trouble, are we?
Instead, her gaze flickered towards the stray hairs of Rarity’s mane, the unwinding twist in her tail, and the puffiness under her eyes. Although the mare looked ready to buck and head-butt anything, she reeked of acid fear.
Pinkie almost said, “If worst comes to worst, we can always kick it”, but something told her the word choice wouldn’t go over very well. Besides, they’d already tried kicking it. Their hooves simply went right through. Kinda like…
The next howl slid over their spines, rustling the locks draped over their napes. Only this time, they also heard the bubbly rattle of the throat. It breathed out, and then it sucked in. And it sounded much closer.
Pinkie stared at the gemstones on either side of them. Blocky chunks here, bristling spikes there: she saw no rhythm to the gems and crystals. Hues and stripes and swirls and cutting edges filled her mind, expanding the world of possibilities.
Yet it was wrong. Pretty, but wrong. Carnelian sat next to copper, and her instincts told her that was wrong. True, the Equestrian soil gave colourful brilliant-cut gemstones, but they were more like buried treasure troves. These were uncut. Natural. Wild gemstones.
Rarity’s gaze avoided the gemstones, and that was wrong too. A connoisseur of jewels should never pass up a whole gallery like this one. Perhaps she sensed the wrongness too. It was like a pegasus confronting Everfree weather.
Finally, Pinkie’s gaze drifted to the rock of the wall itself, and that screamed “wrong!” White granite scuffed with orange and brown and grey streaks. An igneous rock. Mica and quartz and feldspar mixed with trace minerals. It shouldn’t have looked like a giant jeweller’s shop.
I know rocks. Rarity loves gems. There must be a connection.
“Think,” she murmured, tapping the side of her head. “Think, think, think, think, think.”
It had been so simple, hours… or days… ago, standing over the crystal map and seeing their two cutie marks floating over the mountain pass.
Maybe Rarity had moaned a bit too much that it was no-mare’s land. Still, she’d made her mountaineering coat and saddlebag lacey and glittery, with just the right amount of crushed velvet. All long since lost in the cave-in.
She could imagine her sisters here with her. Maud and Limestone would’ve shrugged if she’d pointed out the cave-ins they’d met. Their hooves could hammer through boulders as though they were giant crumbly cookies. But Pinkie had never mastered anything harder than soil.
“You know what I think, Rarity?” she said slowly. “I think this was all part of the map’s plan.”
Rarity barked a harsh laugh. Her pupils were pinpricks that pierced Pinkie’s own. “Is that right? Well, the map can take that plan and –”
“It’s never steered us wrong before, right?” Pinkie didn’t dare notice the shadow of doubt eclipsing her insides. She reached for more mental kindling, but something about Rarity’s stare stayed her imaginary hooves. “No reason to think this isn’t part of the plan. We just gotta figure it out.”
Whether Rarity believed her or not, she relaxed where she stood, muzzle lowered, shoulders sagging.
“I suppose,” she muttered. Then her glare snapped up. “At least we know there is a way in and out.”
“That’s the spirit!”
At once, Rarity’s eyes widened. She spun round, tail whipping the air. Pinkie shut her eyes at the slice of turbulence slapping her mane back.
“What!? Where? Where?”
“No, silly!” Pinkie hopped to her side. “I meant ‘that’s the spirit’ as in ‘that’s the right way to go’.”
“Is it? Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Pinkie opened her mouth, but then shut it again. Rarity’s perfume scents had burned away. Mixed in with the acid fumes was the spiking odour of sweat.
This is all wrong. Normally, everyone’s telling me not to get all bamboozled in the noodle. Now I’m gonna have to tell her. Come on, Rarity. We ran away from the thing, didn’t we? So if we meet it, we can outrun it. Simple.
You can’t really be frightened of it, can you? I’ve seen you when you’re mad. Boy, do I not want to be a chair or a monster when you’re ticked. There’s something else goin’ on here, and I’m gonna find it and fix it.
“Hey, Rarity,” she said on an impulse. “Look at these gems.”
“Oh, please. We haven’t got time for goggling at gems!”
“No. I mean look at them. Maybe with your emerald expertise or gneiss knowledge, you can tell if they grow near a way out or not.”
Rarity’s glare could have cut diamonds. Pinkie hastily glanced away.
But why? Applejack could tell where an apple’s been planted just by smelling it. Fluttershy can tell a warbler from a warbler just by checking the song against the trees near her. So logically, Rarity can tell if one gem likes wide open spaces and if its favourite colour is blue. That’s who she is.
“Any more ideas, Pinkie?” said Rarity coldly. “Or maybe you’d like to taste the rocks to see whether they get enough air.”
“Hmm… intriguing suggestion. Allow me.”
Yet even as she wiped her tongue amid the edges of the gems encrusting the wall, she fought not to wretch or twist her lips.
Her twin Marble had refined rock-tasting to culinary critic status, but Pinkie’s palate had responded only to cakes and cookies. Even balloons came in a surprising range of tastes and textures, some tangy, some lightningy. Ma and Pa had always tutted at her attempts to guess the subtle flavours of what, when she got down to it, were rocks.
“Oh my… Well, it’s a pity you’re not like your sister,” said Rarity, shaking her head. “I bet it would’ve worked for her.”
Pinkie wiped her tongue down and smacked her lips. “You know, that light’s pretty strange. Where’s it coming from?”
She could smell the panic fizzing through her nostrils now. Rarity was back to snapping her gaze back and forth, as though trying to spot so much as a flicker down the glowing tunnels. Pinkie relaxed. A keen eye like Rarity’s would be the first to spot anything.
“You’re right,” Rarity whispered, ears cocked. After a few seconds, she added, “I don’t know what it is, though. None of these gems are naturally autoluminescent.”
“What a pity Sweetie Belle isn’t here,” said Pinkie. “She’s studied magic with Twilight. Betcha she’d know what light’s what.”
Sweetie Belle. The name had popped out of her head. Not Twilight, though. Had it really only been hours… days… ago?
The timber platform, its planks bouncing under hopping hooves. Steam billowing from the train’s sides. Sweetie Belle, squeaking how much she couldn’t wait for them to get back. Maud, droning something about how she could wait, because she obviously had to. Maud was always so literal-minded…
Sweetie Belle, dancing and skipping behind them from Carousel Boutique to the train station. Maud, strolling along beside her. Both of them, talking about makeovers and rock sonnets and truth-or-dare and rock sonnets and baking cookies and rock sonnets. A real sisters’ sleepover.
That was where I smelled that smell from. Pinkie glanced across at Rarity’s wide-eyed, narrow-pupilled stare, which darted from crack to crevice to ceiling. She was surrounded by beauty, but never did she seem to actually look at it. If anything, she seemed to be avoiding it.
Now that was seriously wrong.
Everyone knew how Rarity had found her cutie mark. One geode full of beautiful gemstones, and she’d gathered them and stuck them onto her costumes as though it were obvious where they should go. Gems were Rarity. Rarity was gems.
Hard as gems too. The first time Pinkie had ever seen her up against a gigantic manticore, this frilly fashionista’s first impulse was to kick it in the face. She’d even done that here, as soon as one of the shadows had moved.
Once more, the howl whistled along their shivering backs, and they prickled with spikes under the bubbly rattle of a throat trying to suck something out of the air. They could no longer tell if it was far away or close by. The acoustics made everything sound flat, as though they were hearing it through mufflers.
They craned their necks and looked both ways. Still, the tunnels were nothing but gems stretching and meandering away.
For a moment, their gazes met in mid-crane. Somewhere in the depths of Pinkie’s mind, a light flicked on. She couldn’t tell why it had done so. Only that it had.
“Pinkie,” said Rarity as though her voice were treading over glass. “Don’t stand there breathing so hard. If you’re worried, just keep your chin up. Smarten up! We’re getting out of here one way or another!”
Pinkie frowned. “What? I’m not breathing hard –”
“Oh, silly me. Of course you’re not.” To Pinkie’s shock, Rarity actually giggled into her dusty hoof. “Listen to the ramblings of a ridiculous Rarity! I must be going cuckoo.”
“Uh… you OK?”
Hm. Maybe she has calmed down after all. She’s taking this a lot better than I thought she would. So why does she still smell so bad? And I swear that eye’s twitching harder and harderer and the harderest it’s ever twitched .
“Just peachy!” Rarity beamed at her so suddenly that Pinkie flinched and sidestepped away. “We’re going to have a sleepover, remember? With our dear sisters!”
“Uh… yeah, yeah, sure.” Ow. That beaming smile’s gotta hurt. Look, she’s creasing the skin so much. How come she’s doin’ that? She never risks that kind of skin-stretching if she can help it .
“And Twilight and the others know where we are,” continued Rarity, and she seemed to be talking to some parallel universe behind Pinkie’s head. “They’ll come rescue us. We’re sure to get out of here in one piece. One piece each, that is.”
And Pinkie could see, behind the temporary dust stains and the reversible tangles and knots of hair, that the skin was all wrong. It seemed slightly greyer than it should’ve been. Rarity’s cheekbones jutted where once flawlessly smooth skin curled over the muscle. Tiny nicks across the brow suggested the beginning of wrinkles.
Lightning ripped through Pinkie’s brain. Where the air had simply hung like a dead blanket, now it cracked and iced over, creeping along her flanks. Her mind screamed Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
Rarity’s laughter tickled her ear. “Oh, Pinkie Pie. Why so shocked? It’s exactly as you described it. Now that we’re here, we simply discover our clandestine purpose and fulfil it! The map is not wrong.”
“Beg pardon?” Pinkie could still feel her nose hairs fizzing away under the stench. The mouth said one thing, but the smell said another.
“So it seems to me that, no matter which direction we choose, it is certain – nay, preordained – to be the correct direction! Ipso facto! Quod erat demonstratum! Nil desperandum! ”
“Huh?” Vaguely, Pinkie remembered Pa telling her about strange ponies who went into deserts and caves, and came out “speaking in tongues”. Until now, she’d had no idea what that meant.
Oh my gosh, she’s gone loco!
A blast of a rattle struck their ears.
It was much harsher, as though it was outraged or alarmed. In virtually no time, the sound had done what several cups of coffee and a bolt of lightning could never have achieved in seconds.
Both of them shot back into the crevice, squirming against each other as two ponies tried to squeeze through a gap barely capable of holding one. Soon, Rarity was half-folded at the bottom, and Pinkie was a stick over her, forelimbs folded as though in an upright coffin.
Within the tight squeeze, the acidic smell now scoured her nostrils. Rarity’s beaming smile had evaporated the instant she’d heard the rattle.
They both held their breaths.
Below Pinkie’s rear hooves, a squeak escaped Rarity’s lips. Pinkie clamped her teeth together as though the squeak had been her own.
Rarity’s voice was barely a suggestion in the still air, but Pinkie heard it: “Oh, Sweetie Belle… Sweetie Belle…”
But Sweetie Belle’s not in any danger, or even here. You can’t be worried about her. Or about you. We know we’re gonna get out of this OK. So what’s the problem?
Please tell me, Rarity. I’m up Chocolate Creek without a paddle. Or a spoon. I can’t eat my way out of this one .
Then she felt it; the slight ripples in the air, tapping her skin where the waves drifted by. Something rattled its throat, and now it was right next to them. Yet she saw nothing in the tunnel.
A flicker of a shadow passed overhead. She didn’t dare turn her head up to look.
The waves, the tapping, and the ripples died away. Another rattle echoed back from them. It too was dying.
She counted under her breath. “Eight… nine… ten… I think it’s gone.”
Beneath her, the unseen Rarity drew a quaking breath.
“It wouldn’t be so bad,” she whispered, “if it weren’t for these beastly gems.”
WrongWrongWrongWrongWrongWrongWrong! went Pinkie’s brain. If her lungs hadn’t been sandwiched between folded legs and flattened ribs, she would’ve gasped instead of wheezing pathetically.
“YYYYYeeeeaaaahhhh… uh… Rarity?” she managed to say.
The echoes of the rattle followed them back. Far away, but still not far enough.
Both of them grunted and groaned, wriggling and bruising themselves until first Rarity and then Pinkie Pie burst out of the crevice with a yelp. Both of them braced themselves against the floor, panting. For a moment, both of them were united in breathless pain.
“‘Beastly gems’?” spluttered Pinkie. “Oh my gosh! Are you an imposter? A changeling? Someone else I know, but in makeup? You can’t be Rarity, because Rarity loves gems! They’re like, well, me and balloons. Or Rainbow Dash and winning races.”
Rarity seized her, one hoof thumping down on each shoulder. “They’re mocking me. I can hear them. Can’t you? With their nasty little voices. You must hear them!”
Loyally, Pinkie cocked her ears. Only the sounds of Rarity’s heavy breathing filled her ears. Her skin was complaining loudly about chafing, and her tongue was still numb from the rock-licking. Her eyes were busy staring back at two pinprick pupils.
But Pinkie lowered her brow like a knight’s visor. No. Rarity needs me more than ever. Step One is complete. Step Two is a go. Now we add Step Three: make sure Rarity stops hearing gemstones. This is a job for Pinkie, friend to end all friends .
Except maybe the Princess of Friendship.
Hey! There’s a thought! Think… what would Princess Twilight do?
She clapped her own hooves on Rarity’s shoulders. The mare blinked back at her in surprise.
“I’ve got a plan,” she said. “You can count on me, Rarity. We’ll make Princess Celestia so proud of us, we’re bound to get a good report when we get back.”
“Er… huh?”
And she knew she’d nailed it; Rarity looked exactly like most ponies looked after Twilight had explained things to them.
Acting Princess of Friendship Pinkie Pie saluted her and about-turned and marched up the tunnel. Only when she remembered which way the shadow had gone did she about-turn and march the other way.
After a few seconds, Rarity’s hoofsteps shuffled along behind her.
Far away, the rattling began again.
Within an hour or a day, Pinkie had gone from marching to ambling to shuffling.
The tunnels never seemed to end. Corners, forks, twists and turns, and even the occasional loop glittered and sparkled as they went along.
Then she looked back at Rarity, and squared her jaw, ready for another march.
At every step, the rattle and the howl and the sucking breath never died away, but neither did it get any closer. She fancied, each time she glanced back, that a shadow flickered for a moment round the corner. It was never there when she squinted.
Rarity looked worse and worse as they went. The skin below her eyes sagged. All four pasterns throbbed, and after a while Rarity hobbled on a bad rear leg as though she’d stubbed it. Muscles in her haunches began to tremble.
So, Princess Pinkie Pie, Pinkie thought grimly. What’s so bad about these gems? Is it because Rarity feels so strongly about all gems? If one load of gems can make her so happy she finds her cutie mark, then maybe another load can make her so sad she... um… feels bummed out .
Pinkie glared at the passing flourite, facets like red glass. Nothing supernaturally bad radiated off of them. That ruled out that best guess.
Darn, Rarity doesn’t look so good. Maybe she needs to think like Sweetie Belle. I’ve never seen Sweetie Belle bummed out about anything.
“Hey, Rarity,” she said brightly. “Chin up! Why don’t we sing a pretty little ditty? I’ll start, and then you can join in. Ahem; ‘My heart shines with the light of friendship… Like these gems, buried deep but shining’…”
“Shh! Not so loud!” hissed Rarity.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Pinkie strained to hear, but there was no sound. No rattle, no howl, no sucking breath. “I think it’s gone now.”
“Not that… thing. You’ll disturb the gems. Can’t you hear them?”
Pinkie cringed. Despite popular opinion, she knew perfectly well what a metaphor was. The trouble was that metaphor held very little sway in a rock mine, where anything more poetic than “The ceiling’s falling” was not destined for a long career, nor was the pony practising it. Describing the ceiling as “biting down”, for instance, was not a helpful descriptor when rock monsters really existed, and it helped a working earth pony to know which was which.
“Um,” said Pinkie. “No. Are they whispering really quietly?”
“I was going to teach Sweetie Belle how to listen to the gemstones talking!” hissed Rarity. “Any aspiring fashionista should know what a piece of decoration says.”
Ah , thought Pinkie with a sigh. Now that’s a metaphor.
“Well, you can,” she said. “Soon as we find whoever we’re supposed to be helping, we’ll get outta here and teach her some Gemstonian.”
“Are you making fun of me, pink pony?”
Uh oh. The crazy cat lady voice. She’s got the crazy cat lady voice. Say something! “I’m… making some kind of fun, I guess?”
“No!” Rarity’s voice took on a faraway faintness. “I meant long, long ago. Long before she even got her cutie mark, or met Apple Bloom. Well, she always used to look up to me, the dear. I could hardly say no.”
“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” Anything to keep her happy. Don’t trip me up now, Rarity. “Sounds like a story! Just keep working those chompers.”
Just keep working those chompers. It wasn’t a phrase anyone but Limestone Pie would’ve used, though on the farm it meant chewing up crumbly rocks to gravel for market, and it certainly wasn’t an excuse to keep talking.
Around them, the explosion of edges and facets and spikes and dendrites gave way to a solid tube of beige bulges. Checking the walls, Pinkie recognized the sandstone, coiled shells embedded inside it like cherries on a cupcake. Professionalism turned her nose up at it. Fossils in sedimentary rocks were worse than flies in a drink.
Wait… now we’re on sedimentary? What is up with these tunnels?
She slowed down to let Rarity catch up, and as she did so, she sneaked a sidelong glance. Rarity had bowed her head and was staring at the ground, which at least was still granite. When she blinked, the lids eased together, stuck a little, and then peeled apart to ease away.
“Must be nice,” she mumbled, “to have a sister who clicks with you.”
“What are you talking about? Sweetie Belle loves dressing up and stitching costumes.”
“Oh, costumes. Puh. She only does that for distinctly utilitarian reasons. My dear sister never developed the sophisticated techniques of the true seamstress, nor the penetrating eye of the fashion critic. Show her a cheap princess dress and she’s all smiles.”
For the first time, Pinkie wondered how many actual friends Rarity had in the fashion world. Lots of names, yes. Lots of connections, certainly. At least three good ponies worked for her in two different cities. But in Ponyville? Even Fluttershy’s obsession with haute couture was a flitting housefly next to Rarity’s soaring swallowtail.
Now there’s a vacancy I need to fill. “What if you taught her a few skills? Maybe she’d pick it up?”
Rarity’s mouth became a thin line. She narrowed her eyes as though the ground had offended her.
“I mean, I’m sure she’d get the hang of it sooner or later,” said Pinkie, sensing the gap that needed bridging. “Take me and Maud. When I got my cutie mark, everyone thought I was gonna drift away from the farm… which I kinda did. But Maud knew I still had rock farmer in me.”
For some reason, Rarity’s lips pressed together harder until they almost vanished. Her eyes were slits.
“Maud taught me all the deep secrets of rock farming: how to tell a rock was good quality or useless junk just by listening to it; when it’s best to play harp music before going into a Plutonic Cave; why upside-down rock cake needs to be upside-down.”
Rarity did not spit, but her lips popped out of place and it sounded as though she should’ve done. “It’s too late for that now, isn’t it? Sweetie Belle’s too busy singing and painting to spend any time with me.”
“Well, I spend a lot of time partying and singing songs, but Maud doesn’t mind. None of my sisters mind. Well, maybe Limestone, but she likes minding things, so that’s OK.”
Rarity’s face melted. She sighed at the ground. “I know, I know. It’s just… it could’ve been so different.”
Yeah… it sure could’ve. Maud used to leave home a lot before I even got my cutie mark. And then right after that rainbow made me smile, I got the three balloons on my flank, and bam! Suddenly, she was back home a lot, trying to teach me all these deep secrets.
Which is really kinda weird. I wonder why she did it. It’s not like I wouldn’t have learned it all from her before I got my cutie mark. She just needed to be at home more often. I’d have picked it up sooner.
Pinkie realized Rarity had just said something. “Wha?” she replied.
They passed the threshold of the sandstone fossils, and soon they were entering a rounded chamber, a node punctuating the endless tunnel. Below their hooves, the ground jutted like unhealthy teeth.
Recognition leaped onto Pinkie’s brain. Steps rose up and fell down all around them. Columns of rock punched through the floor or acted as tiles where they hadn’t outgrown their neighbours. Yet these ones had no white blotches of lichen, and no flowers grew between the cracks.
“Oh my gosh, look!” she squeaked. “It’s the Trojan Horse’s Causeway!”
She didn’t even notice Rarity’s blank look. There was no mistaking this one; how often had Marble and she hopped, skipped, and jumped across the basalt blocks, pretending the lower ones were lava? Even the steps were here, in their exact order and height.
But it shouldn’t have been here. This couldn’t really be the same one. That was supposed to be next to the sea.
“Ma and Pa told me that a giant horse stamped all these into the ground, and that’s why they’re such a funny shape! Maud got into real trouble that day. She told Ma and Pa that they were caused by cooling lava flows. No rock soup surprise for her!”
Rarity said nothing until they’d passed through it. Only once they were clear did she even raise her head.
“Do you want to hear this story,” Rarity said with a bite between her words, “or don’t you?”
“Sure! It’s just so amazingly weird, the same rock formation –”
“Anyway . I should tell you that Sweetie Belle could have been a true champion of the culture of clothing. Until not too long ago, I thought that was where she was heading.”
Pinkie kicked her enthusiasm down. Rarity wanted her attention. Perhaps if she gave it, then whatever was eating Rarity would soon surface.
Still, the acidic stench hadn’t died away. Ever since the fossils, Rarity’s face seemed to be made of diamond edges.
“We could’ve been partners in crime,” cooed Rarity to the tunnel up ahead. “Thick as thieves, criminal masterminds, the new firm of fashion. I remember how she used to dress up so, always putting on so much lipstick and powder. Oh, she was a clown. But a sweet clown. And she loved wearing fine jewellery.”
Poor Rarity , Pinkie thought, though she wasn’t sure why. It was a bit sad, maybe, but hardly sweaty fur material. Nevertheless, she stretched her head out and nudged Rarity gently against the neck, snagging a few of the limp hairs as she withdrew.
Rarity’s lips trembled, but soon she forced them to remain still. “She’s lucky, I guess. You are too, come to that. And Maud. And all your family.”
“You’re lucky, too.” Pinkie winked at her. “Is that all this is about? All the twitching and staring and listening to gemstones? Oh Rarity, you can be such a drama queen sometimes!”
To Pinkie’s surprise, Rarity gaped. Her eyes, if anything, reddened.
“Lucky!?” she hissed. “Lucky!? You think we stand even a remote chance of getting out of here!? And what do you think will happen when we do!?”
What the…? What is going on in her noggin?
“Er… sorry?” she said.
She’d meant it as a “sorry, say that again”, but Rarity gave a “hmph” and added, “So you should be.”
Frantically, Pinkie combed her mind for anything that would make it all make sense. She must’ve done something, but for the life of her she couldn’t tell what. She must’ve done something offensive, or else why would Rarity snap so?
“I-I was only trying to help,” she said.
They turned the twisting corner and emerged into yet another chamber. Only this one was huge, as though a mountain had been plucked cleanly out of the earth. Underfoot, the blotchy granite gave way to a red spread of skull-sized rocks.
And in the centre of the chamber, a vast block of red stretched upwards, its side streaked with the seismic strain of uplift. At a glance, the whole resembled a terracotta chimney. Then Pinkie’s eyes grasped its size, and she gasped, and the ghosts of a hundred Pinkies gasped back at her from everywhere.
“Holy moly…” she breathed.
“And of course, they grow up so fast,” mumbled Rarity, utterly oblivious and staring downwards while she shuffled on. “It’s really best to learn these things when you’re a foal.”
“Uh, Captain Rarity?” said Pinkie out of the corner of her mouth. “I think we have a situation here.”
It’s so huge… but this one must be a copy too. No way, no way, no way is that the real deal…
“Ha!” barked Rarity. “Now there was something Grandmother always used to say. Acting like some military commander instead of a country widow… never even left her cottage… no friends left…”
“This place has some serious bad juju.” Pinkie didn’t dare stop. Despite the sheer size of the chamber and the shuffling pace she had to take just to keep level with Rarity, they were past the giant formation and entering another tunnel before she’d fully registered what they’d passed.
That can’t be the real Nightmare’s Tower. That’s in the Rye Roaming Region. That’s the other side of Equestria from here!
Soon, they were back in the granite veins of the ground. Precious opal passed them like bleached rainbows. Crumpled crimson crocoite stuck out of the walls like shards of bloodied glass. Where the walls clouded over like thunderstorms, Pinkie recognized the dull glare of serpentine.
“Rarity,” said Pinkie, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you get the feeling this place is trying to tell us something?”
“Oh yes!” Rarity almost whipped her with her mane, turning her head so fast. “I can hear the gemstones so clearly now! It’s really quite obvious! Listen to them, mocking me and making fun of me! At least Celestia would be a thousand times more gracious about it!”
Sweat stung Pinkie’s face. Like most oddballs and eccentrics, she was fully aware of her own skewed tastes. Now, however, she was starting to wonder if her friends ever wondered, late at night, what else she was capable of.
She was starting to get that from Rarity right now. This sense that Rarity was a cracked brain away from doing something… unfriendly.
“Come now, Pinkie,” said Rarity. “You get shakes predicting things falling out of the sky. You’ve frankly done things with your body that should have landed you in hospital a thousand times over. And don’t even get me started on your outrageous eating habits. You have no right to give me a funny look when the rocks start talking to me.”
And then, as if on cue, the rattle echoed back.
Pinkie whirled round, walking backwards, but the tunnel behind was empty. Still, the echo rattled on.
Another rattle joined the first. This time, it wasn’t an echo.
There’s TWO of them now!? Panic sparked through her face. She felt her lips trying to draw back and her teeth scrape against each other. Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD!
“They’re talking about my Grandmother,” breathed Rarity. She hadn’t so much as flinched. “My Grandmother used to be like me once.”
You know, shrieked Pinkie’s brain, I’m really starting to question the map’s way of doing things! How do I keep this stuff STRAIGHT!?
They turned the corner, and then turned the corner again. Pinkie stopped and rubbed her eyes. They were telling her that this was just another granite artery, but her memory was telling her: We should have doubled back to that Nightmare’s Tower. WHAT IS UP WITH THIS PLACE!?
“Do you know why it’s called Nightmare’s Tower?” she said, hoping beyond hope that it would start making sense to her too. “Hint: Nightmare Moon’s involved.”
“The gemstones say…” Rarity glared at a wall pockmarked with turquoise. “You don’t hear them at all? You? You must have worked with gemstones at some point?”
A pair of howls slithered through their ears. “Rarity! Gems don’t talk! Even Maud knows that!”
To Pinkie’s horror, Rarity cackled. Actually cackled, her voice stabbing into the air and crashing through the silence.
“Oh yes,” she boomed. “They’ve lived for so long, seeing everything! The molten ebb and flow of youth, the flash of living things that come and go, millions of skies and countless forms of darkness!”
Pinkie opened her mouth, but then yelped as Rarity seized her around the neck and thrust her ear-first at the wall.
“Rarity!” she cried out.
“See? Those were the gems I saw when my magic led me to the geode when I was a filly! Listen! Listen to their songs!”
Then Pinkie realized it was only surprise that had been on Rarity’s side. Her actual grip was flimsy. Pinkie could’ve wriggled out of it even if she’d been a newborn, but somehow felt this would be exactly the wrong response.
She just wished Rarity didn’t sound so delighted. It was like that desert town with all the creepy smiles. The body said “happy”, but “misery” and “fear” and “confusion” and “rage” leaked out of every orifice in an electric clash.
Feeling unnatural, Pinkie opted for silence.
As she stared at the gems, trying to hear anything other than her own heartbeat, she did notice certain things standing out. At first, her mind flicked through classifications in Maud’s voice: Native Elements… Oxides… Tectosilicates…
But then the voice grew more lively, less steady. Emeralds! Rubies! Chrysoprase!
“They’re… pretty?” she tried.
Rarity shook her head as though emptying a purse of the last stuck coin. “Pretty!? Well! That’s as may be! But hark! What say they!?”
“I don’t know! The only rock I know that talks is Boulder, and he only talks to Maud.”
“They talk to Sweetie Belle,” said Rarity accusingly. “They tell her all kinds of sweet, sweet lies! How she’ll grow up to be beautiful and elegant and beloved by all who know her! Well, I won’t let them, see!? I’m in tune to their frequency, and I know who’s talking.”
Reflected off one of the gemstones, Rarity’s face peered over Pinkie’s shoulder. Except… when she focused, it wasn’t Rarity’s face. The mane was lighter, the curls more bouffant, and the eyes green instead of blue.
However, when Pinkie wrenched herself free and spun round, it wasn’t Sweetie Belle standing there, but Rarity.
“They’re doing it again!” hissed Rarity. “Did you hear them?”
“No! But I saw –”
“It’s so unfair! Sweetie Belle had such potential before she got her cutie mark. She could’ve become a sculptor, or a poet, or an opera singer. All fine artistic professions.”
“But she’s still got her singing, right?” Pinkie tried a winning grin. She could smell the burning stench reeking off Rarity now. This must be the right track.
Rarity snorted. “Not that she does anything with it but mess around. She’s never been trained. If only she’d let me hire a coach for her, but she’s happy wasting all that talent.”
A third howl joined the two. Pinkie jumped backwards.
“I think we should do less yakking and more packing,” she mumbled. “That was a leetle too close for comfort.”
As they shuffled onwards, Rarity moaned and rubbed her eyes. Now that Pinkie looked, they were getting greyer around the lids.
“I mean, bless her heart! She used to try,” said Rarity to the granite ground. “Using that golden silk, trying to help me around the boutique, actually moving in with me whenever Mother and Father wandered off. Before then, she used to stay with Grandmother.”
That’s it! Whatever’s on her mind, it’s that! Pounce, Pinkie!
“Oh yeah, what was your Grandmother like?” With a chuckle, she added, “I still remember my Granny Pie. Whoa, was she as sweet as a sugar-coated chocolate smoothie sundae special! She used to bring us all presents every time she visited, and they were all exactly what we wanted. Really, that’s why me and my sisters started up the PSSSD – or now I should call it the PSSSDWR –”
“She sounds a bit like you,” muttered Rarity.
There was so much venom in her voice that Pinkie gasped. What is UP with her?
“Sorry, sorry,” spluttered Rarity at once, shaking her head and dislodging more stray hairs. “That wasn’t how I meant it.”
“Uh… it’s OK.” Pinkie drew a few inches away from Rarity. She was this close to bolting … but she knew she never would. Not in a million years. She drew a few inches closer again.
What is up with her? She hears the gems talking to her, she doesn’t like Sweetie Belle not doing any serious art, and now she’s bringing up her granny. Is this a family thing? Art? Is she going off gemstones?
And where the heck are these ponies we’re supposed to be helping? Was the map broken?
“I get the feeling we should’ve met someone by now,” she ventured.
They were still shuffling along. The tunnels now twisted and turned so often that they spent more time turning left and right than actually moving ahead. Pinkie half-feared the tunnels were going to twist on and over themselves at this rate.
“Grandmother was like me once,” whispered Rarity. Pinkie stared at her as they walked. “She was an earth filly, so obviously she was more into dirt and mud, but she loved collecting gemstones. She thought her destiny in life was to be a geologist, or failing that, a rock farmer.”
It wasn’t Pinkie Sense. Tumblers clicked into place inside her head, and she could suddenly see the story Rarity was going to tell.
“Nothing worked for her, though. She was like Sweetie Belle, except she tried everything with rocks and jewels. Decorating, embedding, fashioning them into drill tips or electro… thingummyjigs. And of all the things…”
She got her cutie mark in fabrics! Pinkie’s brain flicked on the light.
“Is that why you wanted to be a fashionista?” she blurted out.
A flicker caught her eye –
She rammed Rarity into the wall and covered her scream with a hoof. Hastily, she shushed her, pulling her deeper between two projecting flanges of pink-tinged rose quartz.
They stood still.
For a moment, they relaxed. Maybe it had just been –
Then the shadows curled round the corner. There were four of them, thick and tapering as swordfish, undulating their way round and following the tunnel. The air trembled with their passing. Wet sniffs followed them. Slimy sucking noises buzzed about their heads like wasps. A flick of their tails, and they cruised as one round the next corner and out of sight.
The five howls echoed through the tunnel, and then died away. A sixth responded from much further back, but its drawn-out cry was getting louder fast. A seventh rattled instead, from further ahead.
“You got ta laugh …” whimpered Pinkie in an undertone. “You got ta smile … Don’t fear the mon sters… Though they’re vile …”
Rarity wrenched the hoof off her mouth. “Pinkie! This is no time for singing!”
They fell forwards. Neither of them spoke for a while.
The tunnels continued to twist and coil. Soon, they were spiralling down a helix, never seeing any change in the curvature.
“Your Grandmother never sang songs to you?” tried Pinkie. “Mine sang all the time. And she threw us parties every birthday. Rock parties with sand confetti and Ma’s favourite hymns, but still.”
“Oh, she wasn’t the singing type,” said Rarity, glancing at Pinkie every now and then. “But yes, she did find her calling in fashion and fripperies. I won’t say I exactly took her example – oh no, I had my own ideas of what constituted the noble arts – but I daresay she was a notable influence.”
As they went along, Pinkie noticed changes in the wall’s composition too. Until now, all colours had been there, and all shapes from spikes to bulbs to sheer flat surfaces. Now, they were starting to smooth out. The gemstones were spaced out more widely. The granite wall darkened as though stained or moistened. Their tunnel seemed to be getting darker too.
She glanced over her shoulder. The tunnel behind them was…
No, that can’t be right.
It should have been a riot of colour and shapes. But the riot was dying as she watched. Now it looked no different from the tunnel up ahead.
“Of course, Sweetie Belle’s got all that to look forward to,” muttered Rarity to the ground again. “Growing up, getting admirers, falling for stallions. Ah, the follies of youth.”
Rarity’s hairs started to dim too. It wasn’t just the tunnel’s lighting; strands faded to grey as Pinkie watched.
“What do you mean?” Pinkie said. “And, uh, I don’t wanna get your mane in a twist, but –”
Rarity barked a laugh; that was really starting to grate on Pinkie’s teeth. “Well, we’ll all end up there, won’t we?”
“Uh… we will?”
“I only really met Grandmother twice. Mother and Father thought she liked being left alone. Ah, but I could see otherwise. She lived alone, yes, but she wasn’t being reclusive. She was hiding.”
“Hiding?” Pinkie gritted her teeth. This isn’t getting me anywhere! How can I be so stupid? “Hiding from what? Was there someone mean she wanted to keep away from?”
“Yes.” Rarity met her gaze, and Pinkie forced herself to stare back, weeping eye be darned. It was like staring down the sun.
“Who?”
Tears shimmered on Rarity’s face. She was still staring into Pinkie’s wide eyes. Are you trying to tell me something?
Pinkie broke contact. Behind her head, a facet like a wardrobe mirror shone. Rarity’s gaze locked onto her own reflection.
They both stopped.
Rarity’s eye twitched, taking in the greying hairs, the wrinkling skin, the matting of her white coat, and the trembling of the muscles down her rear legs. Veins and tendons stood out on her neck.
A chorus of howls raced down the tunnel after them. Pinkie’s leg jerked up to flee, and then eased slowly back down.
“Let’s…” Pinkie winced at Rarity’s sudden spasm and blink. “Let’s just keep moving, huh?”
She was starting to piece it together. The few gemstones projecting from the walls were brilliant stars in the dying night of the tunnels. Rarity’s stunned silence sucked in all sound. Even the occasional howl seemed to quieten down and vanish as it passed over her.
“You know,” said Pinkie, testing the waters. When Rarity said nothing and didn’t look up, she continued, “Maud and I always used to talk about the ‘family legacy’. Well, Limestone talked about it more, but she was always like, ‘I’m keeping it going, can’t trust you clowns with a thing’, so I don’t count that.”
Rarity continued her policy of not reacting. Sighing, Pinkie ploughed on.
“It wasn’t so bad for us. There was Maud, and Limestone, and Marble. It really didn’t matter that I went on my own way. And Ma and Pa still loved me. Granny Pie didn’t have it so easy, though. She was an only child, and her parents were even stricterer. I mean, talk about pressure, am I right?”
Their hoofsteps only accentuated the silence.
“But you know what? Granny Pie never ever let that stop her. If she wanted to travel and meet new ponies and play lots of games and sports, ha! Not even Limestone at her roughest and toughest was gonna stop her. And she never changed. Even when she was really old, she still did all those cool things.”
And she rubbed off on everyone. She rubbed off on Maud; why do you think Big Sis travels so much? She rubbed off on Ma and Pa; they were always so kind to me even when I was a bit batty. Marble actually worked herself up to one-word answers when Granny Pie was around, and even Limestone didn’t shout so much and actually smiled once! Like, in a nice way!
Yet Pinkie said nothing. Sans any kind of cue or signal, she could sense it was the wrong avenue. Rarity’s silence had texture, and she could feel the rough edges. Even underfoot, the ground became scratchy and spongy like pumice.
“Uh,” she said, trying to second-guess Rarity’s reaction. “It’s OK if Sweetie Belle does things a little differently, right? I mean, she’s still happy.”
Frowns flickered across Rarity’s face. Pinkie wondered if another gentle nudge would help.
Then the darkness claimed the tunnel. They walked blind. Only the twinkle of gems every couple of yards told them they weren’t walking in a void.
“We’re totally getting out of here,” said Pinkie at once. “Pinkie Promise.”
Still, Rarity said nothing. Her stench stung less on Pinkie’s nose, though. She may have sighed; it was hard to tell amid their hoofsteps.
Rarity’s horn lit up, and in the darkness, her face was a battleground; riddled with the scars of stretch marks, sagging with the weight of invisible mounds and heaps, strained eyes streaked with tributaries of blood.
Yet, she was smiling against all that. Starlit gems twinkled in her eyes.
“Oh, you should have seen the pictures, though,” Rarity cooed. “Grandmother used to be so beautiful. She almost looked like me. I like to think that’s how Sweetie Belle will be when she grows up. So much elegance and poise. Such effortless style.”
Yeah, thought Pinkie smiling. Like Granny Pie. I even copied the way she bounced through the door on her tail. She was so much fun to be around. No one cared about the wrinkles or the baggy old clothes. She had the ‘thing’. Oodles of it! No, oodles and googols of it!
“I still have her old album somewhere,” said Rarity. “Well, I had to! Mother and Father would’ve lost it in their attic if I hadn’t. No, I had to preserve it for posterity. Such fabulosity could never go unexamined. She was a true inspiration to me!”
Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to realize, thought Pinkie with a thrill. We’re supposed to see just how much we have in common. Different sisters, inspirational grannies, making our own marks…
“What a lovely smile,” she said before she could stop herself.
For a flash, it vanished. Rarity shot her a sidelong glare.
Then she softened. Under straggly locks, the smile bloomed again.
“Oh, it’s not a patch on yours, Pinkie. And you don’t have to smother yours in guile and make it up with a bit of lipstick, like some unicorns do. Beauty,” she purred, “comes from the most unlikely of places, does it not?”
“You got that right.” Under her breath, Pinkie breathed a sigh of relief.
The further they walked, the lighter the tunnel became. The void now had walls and floor and ceiling. Grey granite stared back at them. Twinkling stars became twinkling gemstones and facets and swirls again.
Pinkie yelped and jumped backwards.
A second ago, Rarity’s horn fizzled like a campfire flame. Suddenly, it then billowed into a flamethrower’s blast. She yelped as the white fluids sputtered and rained down droplets over the ground, but then it dimmed and was silent again.
Both of them stared while the horn glowed red and then faded back to dull white.
“Wh-What was that?” shrieked Pinkie.
Distant howls chased them down the tunnel. Too late, Pinkie rammed her hooves over her mouth.
“That’s it!” yelled Rarity, ignoring Pinkie’s frantic shushing. “It was exactly like that! When I first found my geode and my cutie mark!”
“Rarity! Ex-nay on the outing-shay!”
“That feeling! That electric feeling! Oh my stars and moons, I could sing! It’s… it’s positively…”
Howls ripped through the air. They had a frantic edge to them. And they were coming closer.
“Pinkie, we’re saved!” Rarity seized her around the shoulders, and Pinkie tried to crawl out of her own skin. “The exit’s this way!”
“Oh no.” The stench, previously fading away, now swarmed her nose. “R-Rarity? How-how do I put this…?”
She stared over Rarity’s shoulder. The tunnel behind them should have been dark. Now it was well-lit, as if the shadowy interlude had never existed.
Pinkie could almost hear Limestone shouting in her ear, when they were both barely a few hands tall: Don’t just stand there gawking! Show some initiative! Do I have to do everything for you?
“Rarity,” she said a little more firmly.
“No!” shouted Rarity in her face, eyes wide, flecks of drool on the corners of her lips. “I won’t go back in the dark! We are getting out of here! You are coming with me!”
“But I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Rarity’s horn flared again. She spun it round, back the way they’d come. She seemed utterly oblivious to the triumphant shrieking howls closing in.
“This way! Of course! We shall be preserved for all posterity! Onward! None shall claim us!”
Yet as the chaos and the confusion swirled around Pinkie’s head – Rarity’s yelling, the sudden excitement rushing through her, the constant howls beyond them – some kind of spark lit up. She could see the rainbows, the bright hues, and feel the air getting warmer.
She looked back down the tunnel.
“That’s not the way to go,” she said.
“Pinkie, be careful!” said Rarity. “This could be our only chance of escape. If we give it up now, we’ll never –”
“I heard them,” Pinkie said. She wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. “I heard them talking. They’re making it up. We can’t trust these gemstones with diddlysquat. Trust me on this.”
“But my horn –” Rarity narrowed her bloodshot eyes. “Is this Pinkie Sense again?”
“No. My Granny Pie warned me about these kinds of places. This is some kind of eldritch merry-go-round. If we trust anything here, we’re only gonna end up getting lost.”
“Then how do you propose we get out of here!? And what is that infernal racket!?”
By now, the howls were so numerous and loud and frequent that they merged into a wall of shrill noise.
Pinkie looked down one tunnel. She looked down the other. Think, Pinkie! Think! What do we do? What do we do? What would Granny do?
She looked at the gemstones opposite. They just couldn’t have formed in the same place. It was unnatural. Either someone had to have set out to stick them into place – and there were thousands of them! – or…
The first shadows rounded the corner on either side. Both sides opened shadowy jaws long as a crocodile’s. Obsidian teeth gleamed at them.
Instantly, she grabbed Rarity by the shoulders and shot forwards.
Into the gemstones which popped around them.
After the days and weeks of darkness, after the ear-splitting silence that left her mind humming in an attempt to fill it, and after the breaths that were as cold as inhaling winter snow, Pinkie blinked.
“Uh…” she said, and her voice echoed in the void. “Rarity?”
The darkness drew back as a black tar oozing away. It expanded outwards, leaving behind stalactites like misshapen fangs. The whole ceiling looked as though it had been ripped away from the floor, which spiked upwards in reply. Then Pinkie stepped forwards with a splash, and ripples wiped across the subterranean lake.
Everything was golden, but it had no lustre. Even the water looked as though it was mixed with sunset dust.
The darkness vanished from the cavern.
She turned around. Rarity sat with her back to her. Shoulder blades poked out of her back. Each vertebra in her spine protruded like a spike. Her mane and tail were nothing more than grey cascades. Both ears drooped. She was staring up at something.
Pinkie rubbed her eyes and looked again.
Beyond the unicorn, row after row and column after column of statues stretched into the distance. A whole army stood there, all ponies standing to attention. All – she noticed the horns on each one – unicorns.
The clay models boasted red and brown clothes of all kinds. Billowing dresses, razor-edged suits, hats as wild and splaying as a box of Hearth’s Warming decorations. All the figures were smiling and young.
Yet as she stared and stepped forwards, Pinkie saw the features of the next ones, and blinked in surprise. For the first row, the figures were detailed down to their irises and the fine hairs of their eyebrows. The next ones were at least passable. But then they thinned out, became rough rounded lumps the further back they went. Soon, nothing but misshapen blobs could be made out far into the distance.
“Whoa,” said Pinkie. She sat down next to Rarity, who didn’t move.
“Aren’t they beautiful?”
The voice was half-choked. Pinkie turned her head round. Cheekbones lined Rarity’s face.
“Um…” Pinkie began. “They’re OK, I guess?”
But deep down, her inner rock farmer turned its nose up at the display. Inferior terracotta. Hey, doesn’t this look a bit like that buried unicorn army thing Maud was talking about? She found it in the east, or something. No one else had seen it in thousands of years. Half of it was crumbled when she found it. What a load of waste.
Her gaze alighted on the sculpted smiles. They look really creepy.
“And they’re going to be here forever,” breathed Rarity. Her cheeks gleamed with moisture.
A dark pit opened up inside Pinkie’s stomach. “We really should be looking for a way out of here, doncha think? I don’t wanna panic you, but this place is trying to get us good . I mean, I’m not scared or anything. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
“So beautiful,” Rarity continued, “so long-lived, so perfect .”
Pinkie grimaced. It wasn’t just her sense of beauty; something felt wretched about those statues. She shivered just looking at them. A flicker of pity sparked in her heart.
All those things are famous. The Trojan Horse’s Causeway, the Nightmare’s Tower… everyone says they’re so pretty, but…
No one ever actually seems to remember them. I asked Twilight once when she went to visit. Next day, poof. Couldn’t remember a thing.
They were OK. The important thing was that Rarity found them beautiful.
Pinkie’s grimace tightened.
“They could outlast everybody,” murmured Rarity. “So pristine. Sweetie Belle, Grandmother, everyone.”
“Why would you want to do that?” said Pinkie, cocking her head.
Rarity continued staring, but a flicker of a frown crossed her sagging face. “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, Pinkie. Sweetie Belle didn’t, either. You’re so… simple. You think everything is going to stay the same, even when it changes.”
She closed her eyes. Under her breath, she muttered something so quietly that Pinkie had to strain to hear it.
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Ripples pressed in on all sides. Pinkie held her breath, but wherever she looked, there were only terracotta figures, and the endless stalactites, and the lake. Rarity’s hair flicked against the breeze, which never stopped.
Maud wrote a poem like that once. Except about sand. How the little dunes shift all the time. She didn’t like that one, but I thought it was OK. Oh, what am I thinking? We’re in trouble! We need to skedaddle, like, pronto!
“Er… Rarity? I like poetry as much as the next pony, but wouldn’t it be better to go home and tell other ponies about it?” Where is that howling coming from? I can’t see any of those shadow things anywhere.
“It’s not fair,” whispered Rarity. “I don’t want to end up like Grandmother. She always sang those lines. Sweetie Belle’s going to see me turn ugly. Pinkie, I’m living on a knife edge. I can’t stand it. I have to do something. A lady does not go gentle into the quiet night.”
“How about a seamstress? Rarity!? ” Pinkie shook her, waved a hoof in front of her, head-butted her shoulder again, and banged both hooves together. Regardless of what she did, Rarity was in another world.
Around them, the breeze and ripples became a shuddering whirlwind.
“I kept those pictures for years,” whined Rarity, and her reddening eyes oozed with tears. “She said it would be good enough, but I knew she was lying. Those pictures taunt me! Just like those crystals! It’s not fair! Why should dead things live on in such splendour, and not I? Why not Grandmother? It was cruel what they did to her.”
Wind whistled through the statues. Pinkie heard the howls echoing around them, snatching at her mane.
Finally, she looked up.
Shoals of shadows spun round and round, a black tornado flicking tails and champing obsidian fangs like irritated crocodiles. Now they were better defined; stumpy limbs with splayed claws lined up against bulging flanks, spikes of armour sprouted along their backs, and several opened eyes like burning blood.
The whirlwind funnelled down, surrounding Rarity. Her chipped hooves faded into red and brown. Like a shadow, the hues eased up her legs.
“I…” whimpered Rarity, fighting to speak. “I… I don’t want to do that to my own sister…”
She bit her lip, fighting harder, scrunching her eyes.
Pinkie saw two Rarity’s for the first time. One glowered at her sister, who was playing dress-up and cooing as though at a Canterlot Garden Party. One turned its back to Sweetie Belle, no matter how many times the younger sister tried peering around to talk to her.
Rarity had been trying the same dress design over and over for the last few weeks. At the time, Pinkie had assumed she was taking extra care to make the dress perfect. Yet now she thought about it, Rarity had metamorphosed several complex entities far grander than that sketch in a couple of days.
And before their cutie marks had glowed, her memory reminded her, Rarity had been twirling a stray lock in her hair and glancing at it occasionally. Pinkie could guess what colour it had been, though her eyes were nowhere near as sharp as Rarity’s.
“I just wish I hadn’t argued with her before we left.” Rarity’s voice was barely an echo on the wind.
Pinkie’s mind flicked through file after file, trying to match sister with sister. Overhead, the creatures howled. It didn’t look like they were going to dive-bomb them anytime. Rarity must’ve been giving them exactly what they wanted.
Strange creatures raided the rock farm all the time. Pinkie’s eyes turned to steel.
“Is that what this is all about?” she said, but she forced herself to soften her expression. “Oh, Rarity. It’s not like you’re the only pony this ever happens to.”
The red and brown crept up Rarity’s elbow and spread across her torso. Ahead of it, the skin turned white. Wrinkles vanished. Grey hairs curled back into purple hues. The veins in her eyes faded away.
No, no, no, no, no! What do I say? What do I do? That’s gonna have her in minutes!
“Come on, Rarity!” She seized the unicorn by her petrified limbs and tugged. She might as well have tried towing a mountain. The terracotta joined across Rarity’s back and the last of it reached up her neck and down her elegantly curled tail.
Rarity’s fuller lips curled into a smile.
Whereupon, Pinkie leaped forwards and bit her mane and tugged hard.
Rarity’s yelp exploded. Her face twisted in pain and rage. Overhead, the shadows bumped into each other’s flanks and squealed with surprise.
“What!?” shrieked Rarity. “What did you do that for!? ”
Pinkie spat out the locks. “Because you’re being nutty! You wanna hide away like your Grandmother and do diddlysquat? Really? You?”
“But… but life’s so short… all it takes is one grey hair, one tiny wrinkle, one hoof out of place – I’m going to be finished! It’s starting already –”
“So? You just gonna give up and waste what little there is? I’ve known quitters, and you are not a quitter!” Rage boiled in Pinkie’s chest. The insult was a blow of a hammer on her head. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, would never be beautiful, had too much rock farmer and too much Pinkie Pie craziness in her to be truly beautiful, but she’d be darned and quartered if she was going to be overlooked by someone who could spend hours curling their hair. “I mean, really, Rarity? You, getting so worked up because of a little old age? Because you know what everyone knows, that the party’s gonna end sometime? Really?”
Struck around the head by the words, Rarity spluttered. “You don’t understand –”
“Oh yeah? Well, Granny Pie was quite a looker when she was my age. Do you think she went to pieces because she went all saggy, and ugly, and had this really weird squint and some crow put its feet in her eyes?”
The tidal wave of rage burst through another dam. Rarity’s words of complaint – mostly about her concept of “crow’s feet” – vanished under her own whirlwind.
“No. Because she saw the rainbow, and the real beauty was inside her all along. It’s just pretty colours and shapes, she said. And that’s nice, I said. Yes indeed, little Pinkie, she said, but what’s really important is having inner beauty. Oh Rarity, do you really think we’ll stop caring just because you look like an old witch?”
“This isn’t helping,” fumed Rarity.
“Well, I don’t care what you look like or how good it makes you feel. Maud’s got a pet rock. You think she cares he’s just a blob of igneous? No. ‘Cause she knows the real him, and I know the real you. And I’m gonna prove it to you!”
“Did you seriously just compare me to Boulder?”
More squeals and howls rained down from above. Below Rarity’s jaw line, the crawling terracotta stopped. Around them, the whirling winds slowed to a gale.
“It’s not just that…” Rarity sniffed; the terracotta slipped past her nape and over her scalp. “That’s just it… I’m… I’m losing my inner beauty. That dress… Sweetie Belle…”
Pinkie stayed quiet while the winds flapped about her mane and the howls became frantic. She glanced at the terracotta figures, all hidden away, where no one would ever see them except whoever stumbled down here.
Did they all have friends with them? What happened to them? Was it those things that did it? All they need is a little fear, and then they fan it and feed it, and when it’s big enough… Nom!
I know what they are! Granny Pie warned me about them! How could I have not seen it!? I promised I’d remember. How could I have done this to her? I'm so stupid!
“I know what to do,” she said softly. She held out a hoof. “If we get old, and we’re still together, then I, Pinkamena Diane Pie, promise to always help you stay beautiful on the inside. See? You just smiled. I saw you. I’m doing it already!”
Rarity stared at her. Her eyes flickered from pure white to bloodshot red. “How do you mean?”
“I dunno. But Granny Pie managed it.”
While the terracotta figures swayed in the winds, Rarity pouted her bloodless lips, but the wet streaks shone down her face. “Pinkie, you are the most sentimental pony I have ever met.”
“Well, you’re even more sentimentaler than me.” She jabbed the hoof again. “We’re like twin crystals from the same shaft. So, deal?”
The terracotta line was a circle around Rarity’s long eyelashes, her fuller cheeks, her dainty chin. All the shadows screamed with impatience.
Then the line receded. Rarity’s lips stretched, distorting her face, but the smile pushed such petty concerns out of the way. Her neck turned white, her mane bounced with newfound freedom, her shoulders shuddered with suppressed sobs, and when the last of the red and the brown vanished below her hooves, she raised one and took Pinkie’s.
In the whirlwind, they shook once. They nodded once. Their smiles were mirrors of each other.
“Now,” said Pinkie matter-of-factly, “I think we’ve got a mission to complete.”
She glanced over to the terracotta figures, all lost to the centuries. No more arguments. No more sadness and heartbreak. And no more of those shadow things.
“You’ve figured it out?” said Rarity, and her tail turned purple at last.
A boom rattled the cave; stalactites dropped down, the lake rippled, two of the terracotta figures fell over and shattered with a crash. The whirlwind died away at once.
“I got a good idea!” Pinkie yanked her onto all four hooves and spun around. “Time to go!”
“But Pinkie –”
Screeches stabbed into their ears. At once, both of them leapt and stumbled into a gallop, shooting around the lake, feeling the blast front of dozens of bodies suddenly rushing behind them. Flickers of shadows snapped at their heels. Pinkie glanced back and saw burning blood staring at her over snapping obsidian fangs like knives of oil.
Pinkie and Rarity almost bounced off the walls, bits of stone skittering among their hooves.
You know what I’m gonna do when we get out of here? Pinkie stumbled, and then shock ran through her and she threw herself into a gallop again. I’m gonna make you the biggest, sweetest, most decoratedest cake you’ll ever see! Just for you! And for Sweetie Belle. And Maud. And anyone who wants a slice. What a lovely taste! That should be shared with everyone!
“PINKIE!” Rarity yelled over the shrieks and the howls.
“YEAH!?”
“WHERE ARE WE GOING!?”
The lake curled round, never stopping, never showing an inkling of a tunnel or an escape. Splashes behind them made her glance right; some of the more enterprising shadows slid through the lake, trying to cut them off instead of blindly following the curve round. Their bulbous snouts and glaring eyes protruded from the water, exactly like those of a crocodile.
I don’t get it. This is a mind-messing place. Rarity’s over her issues. Why aren’t we outta here?
Around them, the shadows squealed with delight. Three leapt out of the bank. Rarity charged forwards. A blur of white later, three thuds followed three splashes.
Oh, why didn’t I figure this out sooner? Stupid, stupid Pinkie! All heart and no brain. Maud would’ve figured this out, I bet. She was always Granny Pie’s favourite!
“PINKIE!”
Two pairs of jaws widened around Rarity’s flailing tail. Pinkie lunged. The bodies shuddered and she yelped at the ache punching her side. Two more splashes followed before she hit the ground and galloped onwards.
Oh, what have I done now? If only I wasn’t so slow, we wouldn’t be trapped down here! Why didn’t I notice stuff like this sooner? I could’ve done with it then!
Something was happening, though. The harder she ran, the slower things got. Her strides didn’t seem to reach as far as she liked. When she yelped, her voice squeaked even higher.
“RARITY!” she squealed. Her puffy mane began bouncing on her eyes. “MAUD! GRANNY! HELP!”
“IT’S OK! JUST KEEP GOING! WE’LL FIND A WAY OUT SOON!”
But she could tell Rarity was lying. All the grown-ups used to do that. She had the same panicky voice, the same expression pulling her face back as though trying to distance her from her own words. They were like that when Ma and Pa came out of Granny Pie’s bedroom one day…
The lake ran on. They must’ve lapped it already, but there was no sign of the terracotta figures or of the chamber where they would’ve been. All that was left was a circular cavern, the spikes of the ceiling suddenly a lot closer now, the lake somehow much smaller. She could look across and see the other side. Even the centre of the lake dipped downwards as though some deep monster was sucking it all in.
I don’t wanna be the hero! I don’t wanna see my friends get hurt! I just wanna play! My legs are all achey! Help me! Help me!
Howls burst into eldritch chuckles. She could see the tips of the shadows looming around her vision, closing in on the view of Rarity galloping further and further ahead, the flash of fangs and the slow lick of a dozen tongues. Her legs burned. She wasn’t going to make it. She might as well just give up and get on with it. What was the point? She’d only slow Rarity down.
“PINKIE!” Rarity skidded to a halt.
“NO!” squeaked Pinkie. “DON’T STOP! GET OUT OF HERE!”
Without a word, Rarity shot towards her, and suddenly her vision was full of whiteness. All twelve jaws opened wide.
Tears blurred Pinkie’s face. The chamber dissolved into dark beige, swam into a swirl of shadows and light…
Refocused on the face before her.
Two dull eyelids peered down at her. A flat fringe with no features whatsoever flopped over two unreadable irises. An unsmiling mouth hung high, steady as a fissure in a boulder.
Without a word, the apparition reached forwards and wiped her cheeks. Pinkamena felt the coolness of the hooves, but it was oddly satisfying, like a chilled fruit punch under a tropical sun.
Her mind drew a card. “M… Maud!? ”
“It’s OK, Pinkie,” droned Maud. And now she remembered: Marble had hidden in her room and refused to come out; Limestone had forced herself to work in the fields, and hadn’t spoken to anybody, not even to shout at them; Ma and Pa had gone to town to find the priest and the funeral directors.
The funeral…
“Maud?” groaned Pinkie.
“She’s not really gone you know,” droned Maud, but Pinkie recognized the subtle cadences and lute hidden in the monotone. “She said you’re a lot like her. Maybe you’ll be a Granny Pie too.”
The filly Pinkie wiped her eyes on the back of her hoof and sniffed. “You mean… she reincarnated?”
Maud shook her head. “No. She’s really dead.”
“But… but I thought you said…”
“I didn’t say she’s not dead. I said she’s not really gone. It’s like atoms in a crystal lattice. The atoms are never the same, but the lattice never changes. The crystal lasts forever. The atoms don’t.”
Pinkie didn’t dare look around the hut, because if she did, that would prove she was really there, that all of this was really happening. “I don’t understand, ” she whined.
“You do. Crystals are nice. Granny Pie was nice. You’re nice, like Granny Pie is nice. I think if she was still with us, she’d be proud of you. You’ll be a very nice crystal, just like she was. I know. I’ve studied three hundred and sixty six different types of mineral. They’re all nice.”
“But… But without Granny Pie…” Knots tightened inside Pinkie’s stomach.
She fancied she saw a twinge cross Maud’s face, but part of her knew the face had not changed at all. She’s hurting too. I can just tell. Oh, Maud.
Without hesitation, she reached up and wrapped her hooves around Maud’s neck. Maud did not react. Steady as a diamond statue.
Maud eased a leg over and tightened it around Pinkie’s shoulders. It resisted the sobs breaking through. Pinkie snorted, and dribbles of snot ran down to her tensed lips.
“See?” Maud patted her, slow and regular as an iron pendulum. “You don’t have to think about it like I do. You feel it, and you do it. Lots of ponies I met don’t do it. You’ll make a great Granny Pie. Trust me. Boulder agrees with me too.”
“I’m so stupid…”
“You’re not stupid. You’re nice. That’s more important than not being stupid, because if you're not nice, what's the good of not being stupid? Granny Pie said so. Remember?”
“Oh, Maud …”
“I’d like to meet your friends someday,” Maud droned on. “You’ll make lots of friends. Granny Pie said there’s nothing better than making new friends.” After a thoughtful pause, she added, “Except rocks.”
“I’ll do it!” Pinkie squeezed harder. “I promise, promise, promise I’ll do it! I’ll be a nice crystal! You just wait! Granny Pie will be so happy, forever and ever!”
Through the neck, she felt Maud open her jaw to correct her, but for once the jaw closed. Pinkie could never thank her enough for that.
Then the solid presence of Maud vanished. Pinkie stumbled forwards, yelping in shock. The shadows drew back as she opened her eyes, and someone patted her forelimb. At once, Pinkie snatched at it.
Before her, Rarity tugged her out of the shadow scrum, and she actually felt her own limbs lengthen, her hair rise out of her growing face, and Rarity’s navel pass her as she grew taller again. Both of them stumbled into a gallop. Rarity’s curls stuck out in odd places. There were scuff marks all over her coat. Bits of shadow clung to her shoes like splashes of ink. Yet still they ran on.
Either side of them, the tunnels branched off their main one. Pinkie couldn’t see the lake, but she could see, past the crumbling granite on either side, the gemstones popping like balloons before the tunnels crashed and vanished behind plumes of dust.
“Oh, well done, Pinkie!” yelled Rarity, and she shot a beaming smile over her shoulder. “I knew you could do it. Bravo!”
Pinkie nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case more than words came out. Knew I could do what?
Another tunnel collapsed beside them. Angry screams and howls followed them along the tunnel, something snapped, and she briefly felt a snag on her tail before a quick buck freed it. Behind her, the yelp was lost to the scream of shadows and the crash of chomping fangs.
“PINKIE?!” yelled Rarity; the next tunnel collapsed loud enough to make even that sound like a thin whisper.
Dust clouds burst past them, and only Pinkie’s memory stopped her from ramming straight into the wall. She felt grains and grit settle on her bared teeth and on the film of her eyelids. Stumbling, she wiped her face.
And suddenly, it all seemed very stupid. Shadows shaped like crocodiles? Why not ponies, like the windigoes, or fish? Or sharks? Or just shapeless shadows? Why all the over-the-top twists and turns? What was this tunnel trying to prove? And that Trojan Horse’s Causeway? That Nightmare’s Tower? Talk about trying too hard!
Titters broke through her panic; the stench was fading away, her nostrils cleansed by fresher breezes blowing in. She shook trying to hold back the giggles, but then she realized they’d put in a whole red mountain just to try and creep her out, and the laughter burst out of her mouth. She almost cried, they were just too much.
Squeals of pain broke out behind her. Only a few ripples batted against her flanks; the more determined shadows didn’t bother with howls or rattles anymore.
“PINKIE!? What’s so FUNNY!?”
As Pinkie drew level with Rarity, gaining power and speed on the crest of the crashing laughter, snorts broke through her guffaws.
“I was just thinking!” she yelled. “Hey, remember when we weren’t running away from some big horrible monster trying to do evil things to our minds? That’s like a Tuesday for us! Talk about laugh!”
That did it. Explosions of mirth cracked her cheeks. She almost drifted into Rarity’s side, spluttering for a breath yet helpless against the tidal wave of laughs. Her mane flapped about her head. She could see Rarity staring in shock at her.
But then Rarity’s lips twitched. She let out spits of chuckles. By the time Pinkie had to shut her eyes against the conquering screams of joy from her own mouth, Rarity could resist no more. The whole absurdity of laughing at the chase drew out chortles and very unladylike snorts.
Screeches and yelps of pain were cut off behind them. The last of the ripples vanished.
When they opened their eyes and shook out the worst of the tears, they saw the light pouring in. The bare walls of the tunnel rushed onwards, towards pure white scorching their futures.
“Here we go!” squealed Rarity. “Huzzah! I knew we’d do it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Oh, I’ve never felt so full of joie de vivre! ”
They rushed through the exit.
And skidded to a halt, snapping out of their own laughter just in time to stop right at the lip of the mountain path. A pebble flew from under Rarity’s hoof and tumbled, shrinking, into the endless brightness of shining slopes a thousand feet below.
To their right, the jutting road curled round the slope and further up the mountainside. To their left, the same road twisted round and began the long zigzag back down to the base of the range.
All around them, the peaks of a dozen mountains gleamed like icing-topped sapphires under pure blue skies. Pinkie held her breath. Never had a load of chaotic rock formations seemed so spectacularly awe-inspiring. She could feel her own heart expanding, trying to take in all the rising love and wonder.
“No time for gawking yet!” said Rarity. Pinkie followed her gaze.
Behind them, the darkness of the tunnel was absolute. Then glints caught their eyes. Screeches echoed after them. A dozen red eyes opened.
“This is where they lured us in with their songs!” said Pinkie.
“Now what?” Rarity hit her chin with a hoof. “Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my! They just never stop!”
The dots of red became burning lumps of coal. Fangs flashed.
Pinkie looked up the mountain slope. Sheer rock face, as flat and uncompromising as the Nightmare’s Tower, only winter blue instead of summer red. Granny Pie had told her about the tower.
It’s not that hard to stop, she’d said. No matter how tall and imposin’ it looks, a true rock farmer’s got nothin’ to fear, ‘cause…?
The ghost of Granny Pie’s grin flitted across her face.
“Rarity!” She pounced to the left of the tunnel. “RIGHT!”
“But –”
“Trust me on this one! Right!”
As soon as Rarity galloped to the other side, both of them turned their haunches to the slope. Pinkie raised her back legs, balancing on her front ones.
“On three!” she yelled; Rarity copied her stance, stumbled slightly. “One! Two! Three!”
Pinkie’s hooves hit the rock so hard that she fell onto her muzzle. Groans broke out from her mouth. She cupped her front hooves to the stinging.
The world around them rumbled. Thunder crashed over their heads. Just in time, Pinkie rolled out of the way.
A shadow burst out of the darkness. Both red eyes bulged like the determined stare of an alligator. The last of the shadow fled the floating scaly body in the light. Rarity yelped and tripped backwards over a stone. Real teeth, real jaws stretched wide –
Boulders crashed over the tunnel, smothering the beast with a yelp before stones and pebbles crashed and poured over the slope. Dust blew up, turning the world a hazy blue.
Somewhere in there, Rarity coughed.
When it cleared, the pile of rocks cut cleanly across the road. There was no sign of any life.
Rarity poked her head over the slope. Blue dust clung to her mane.
“P-Pinkie?” she yelled.
Pinkie shook herself down. “I’m good! I’m good!” Coughing dust up, she waved up at Rarity, trying not to pant too hard. “I think you want to be on this side, though!”
Despite all expectations, Rarity barely snorted for breath. Even her chest rose and fell with no particular strain. A slight chuckle escaped her lips.
“Well…” she said, and the pant broke through. “That… was one… mother and father… of a… friendship problem .”
Pinkie breathed out with relief. Her legs shook under the effort of keeping her standing. Both of them stood and panted while the sun arced onwards across the sky. Her face felt heavy with all the blood rushing to it. All four hooves sparked with twinges whenever they met the ground, raise and lower them thought she did. Any attempt at stepping forwards left her swaying towards one side.
“That?” Pinkie coughed up more dust. “That was a friendship problem?”
Still, she could see the ghost of Granny Pie, cackling and fading away. The Nightmare’s Tower couldn’t have been a coincidence. Granny Pie and Maud had told her stories about it: myths and legends in Granny’s case; interesting geological details in Maud’s.
Granny Pie. Her heart hurt. Pinkie sniffed and wiped her muzzle, where the snot had hardened into crust. Nevertheless, the smile stayed burning bright.
“The map had it all figured out.” Rarity peered up, and frowned at the blue stains on her mane. “Did you see all those terracotta figures? We would have been one of them if we’d let those monstrous things turn us against each other. And they’d have done it again and again and again. Do you see? The map saw it coming. We must have been sent there to stop friendship problems in the future. Oh my word, it all fits together now!”
She reached up to bat the dust off, but Pinkie caught her foreleg in mid-rise.
Gingerly, Rarity lowered it again.
“Ah well,” she said gamely, and the way she said it conjured the ghost of Granny Pie, “there’s more to beauty than just looking good. But of course. And… I suppose it does give me a rather roguish and debonair appeal.”
“Ha! Oh yeah. That too.”
The silence of the mountains pressed in on them. Calm blue stone, the mild sea of the sunlit sky, the peace of the cool morning air: only a moment, but it lasted a lifetime.
Together, they shuffled away from the pile of boulders. Neither of them spoke until the path twisted round for the first bend of the zigzag.
“So…” Pinkie pouted her lips, and instead of shuffling she tried a few experimental bounces. “This is gonna make one heck of a story when we tell Maud and Sweetie Belle about it. Lookin’ forward to the sleepover when we get back?”
“I’m looking forward to the pedicure of a lifetime when we get back.” Rarity blew at the dust on her mane.
Oh typical Rarity. You just can’t leave it alone, can you?
Rarity sighed at the road. “I need to talk to Sweetie Belle, though. I should… apologize for the way I treated her.”
“Hey.” Pinkie settled back into a shuffle. “It’s OK. The important thing is we know what not to do next time. Granny Pie always said look forwards, never look back. Although sometimes she said always live in the moment, so depending on how you look at it –”
“Oh my. You do go on, don’t you, Pinkie Pie?”
They continued the long trek down the zigzag. Like a heavy saddlebag, the sun weighed on their bodies. Sweat sizzled under their forelimbs.
Pinkie looked back to check her flanks, and saw the three balloons of her cutie mark pulsing. Opposite, Rarity’s three diamonds pulsed in perfect synchrony. She smiled.
“I’m going to enjoy seeing what Sweetie Belle comes up with,” said Rarity, and warmth was baked into her voice. “I hope I can encourage her to share her gifts with everyone. Such talent really shouldn’t go to waste.” As though prompted by an afterthought, she added, “So long as she’s happy with it, of course.”
Oh, you betcha. You were right, Maud. I never doubted you.
“Huh,” she said cheerfully. “I guess we solved more than one friendship problem today. Singalong?”
Rarity hesitated but then shrugged. “After that… beastly experience, I suppose it would steady my nerves.”
They smiled at each other, and for a moment even the hot sun was no longer a burden. Echoes of the shadow’s howls faded away in their minds. It was all over. It was OK, it was OK…
“Thanks,” murmured Rarity.
“Yeah,” said Pinkie to the road. “Thanks to you too.”
Both Pinkie and Rarity admired the sheen of sapphire along the mountain wall, and strode proudly round the next turning. Under the dark, hissing memory of tunnels, the plain, beautiful desolation of the mountain crinkled with a dozen carved smiles, almost like a room full of ponies.
“So good,” they whispered with a sigh.
On the way down, they sang “The Sun Will Always Shine In My Heart”. It turned out both their grannies had loved that one.
