The camera shakes roughly and a flash of pastel pink skitters by. It appears this recording is accidental. The house is strangely well-lit despite the windows painted a dark blue with the fall of evening. A gray plane of smoke splits the house in half a few feet above the floor. Cozy coughs somewhere out of frame. Piles of untouched dishes lay in the same locations as they had been at the end of the previous cooking segment.

“Have to hurry… Okay. Looks good. Yes, this will definitely do. Don’t forget the camera.”

Pink legs appear around the camera and it is hefted into a bag, pressing against an over-ripe plum. The plum squishes against the lens and drops of juice roll spread out. Suddenly the image disappears.

Labored breathing on a black screen. Nothing can be heard but Cozy murmurs and mumbles to herself between deep, rapid breaths. “Come on… does this thing have a ‘night mode’ or something? It’s too dark.”

Unrecognizable blobs of black and dark grayscale lumps congeal from the murk and, occasionally, forest plant-life reflects a minute orange light as the camera sways and spins. Something crackles and roars like a rushing river in the background. The sounds of hooves tapping at the frame of the camera click and clack lightly. The camera zooms and then returns. A titling sequence appears with just the letter A flashing repeatedly.

“Oh, neat. I’ll remember that. There has to be a button or something.” The filly is rapidly getting her breathing under control.

The A disappears and is replaced by the word GAIN and a small meter of separate, square blocks blinks to life. Blocks begin to appear and the inky darkness begins to take on proper forms of trees and bushes.

“Snickerdoodle! I’ve done it. Have to find Miss Pinkamena. Western hill...It’s a lot harder at night.”

The camera spins behind Cozy and a great ball of fire roars in the valley far below the filly. One can just barely make out the enormous candy cane supports and brownie tiled roof as the raging inferno devours Pinkamena’s house. Dark bubbling gobs of burning sugar grow like tumors and pop like boils.

“I’m never going to find her like this… MISS PINKAMENA! PINKAMENA! HELP!”

Cozy flies a few feet from the ground. The camera flickers from the forest floor to hovering eye level. It is apparent that the filly is using the viewfinder to pierce the darkness of the woods. There is no discernible path the filly follows as she cries out now and again for Pinkamena. For many minutes this goes on until a high-pitched voice cuts through the thrumming of tiny wings and the distant consummation of the inferno.

“Cozy? COZY!”

“I hear you! I’m … I’m … “ The camcorder spins back and forth looking at similar plantlife as before. “I don’t know where I am!”

“I’m coming! Stay still!”

The tromping of hooves through snapping undergrowth fades in and becomes loud until Pinkamena appears from behind a tree carrying the wicker basket full of anise. The basket falls from her lips and rolls to the forest floor. Her eyes dance with the image of the burning home reflecting in them. She stares blankly but without surprise.

“What happened, Cozy? What happened to our home?” Her voice is strangely calm and flat as she looks from camera to the glow out of screen.

“Inquisitors came!” the filly shouts. ”I thought you were coming back and I went to the window and saw four or five of them outside. I hid and they kicked open the door! I was so scared! I thought for sure they would find me.”

Pinkamena bites her lip until a dribble of dark blood slips down her chin. She looks hard at the filly with her brows furrowed inversely. Concern and disappointment seem to cross her face. She starts to speak and stops, reconsidering. “At least you’re not hurt. I couldn’t take losing you. We need to go. It won’t take long for them to find us up here. Especially not after the racket we just made.”

“Where? Where can we go now?” the filly asks.

The mare sighs and looks at her hooves before turning back to the ruination of her home. A look of despair crosses her features but something else streaks across as well: resignation.

“The only other place I know.”

Author's Note

This is the end of Act I. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it. Act II is almost finished and Act III should be fairly short.

I'd love to hear your thoughts thus far. If you don't like your comments being out in the open, you can pm me if you'd like.