The arching branches of the forest suffocate the silvery tendrils of the moon, rendering the path through the Everfree nearly imperceptible even with the gain turned to the maximum. Lurching limbs encroach upon the hoof-path just as the grabbing bushes, weeds, and vines recover a path that, while never rigorously traveled, once stood free of the strangulating grasp of wild, fervent nature.

From the bowels of the foliage comes the calls of the denizens of the night; hoots, growls, and the skittering of tiny feet racing through the known alleys and crevices of a brutal world ungoverned by the rules of society. In the dense forests only the law of nature presides. Pinkamena and Cozy stride through the foliage.

“I didn’t think there was anyone who was brave enough to live out here other than you.” Cozy hovers behind Pinkamena using the camera’s gain to view into the abyssal recesses of the forest and remain aligned with the dissipating dirt path.

“Bravery? I don’t see it as that. Necessity, maybe. Or a love for the natural world?” Pinkamena replies without looking back, continuing to tread forward and occasionally ducking or snapping a vine that has crossed the path.

“Which was us?”

“Necessity, of course. We couldn’t have stayed in any town for very long.”

“I like to think we were brave.” Cozy retorts.

“Brave? How was it brave?” Pinkamena probes gently, her tone calm and inquisitive.

“We both did what we wanted, despite the governs of society, and attempted to upset the status quo. Albeit for different reasons and gains.” Cozy smugly answers. “That’s pretty brave to me.”

“You don’t talk like a filly sometimes, Cozy. Are you sure you’re not just undersized?”

“No, don’t try to curb the subject away by making fun of me. Why aren’t we brave?”

Pinkamena chuckles to herself before answering. “Okay, okay. I’ll agree with you to an extent. Being who you are meant to be in the face of adversity is brave. It takes a lot to step into a world that doesn’t accept you and say ‘here I am and I don’t care what you think’ but is that what either of us have done?”

Cozy is silent for a moment, a short humming noise fills the audio. “Yes. I was brave to confront Twilight and Celestia for rulership. You know how strong they are. Despite the odds, I almost won.”

“You were foolish, honey.” Free of barbs, Pinkamena speaks bluntly.

Cozy harumphs angrily and zips before Pinkamena, the camera zooming so closely that only her face fits in the frame. “Are you trying to pick a fight or something?”

Rolling her eyes, Pinkamena reaches out and pushes the camera away. “You could have used your gifts and bided your time, been less emotional, and became something important. Maybe even princess, if you would have just waited. Even if it was for selfish reasons, you may have done good for Equestria and ponies would have loved you. Instead, you attacked and ostracized yourself forever. Anyone who recognizes you will hate you. Your name will be forever marked as a villain and you will never get the power or affection you wanted so badly.”

Cozy simpers almost imperceptibly and counters, “Yeah? What about you? How foolish is it to go on a killing spree and be hated forever?”

“Very. Of course, I didn’t do it for power or fame or the adulation of others. I did it out of necessity. I had to do it. Despite what I wanted, there were forces out of my control.” Pinkamena begins walking again. “And I’m not trying to hurt you, judge you, or make excuses for myself. I think you are extremely intelligent and gifted, Cozy. You chose poorly, twice in your case. As did I. So we lived in the woods out of necessity for our crimes.”

“We’re about to try again. We are literally going, right now, to get what we need for our plan against Princess Twilight. So are we foolish?” Cozy floats beside Pinkamena, dodging the wilderness as it threatens her.

“We have a half-baked plan and know our chances are slim, so yes, Cozy, we are being foolish. However, we are also desperate, so this is out of necessity. Our advantage is we know our times will end soon and that gives us power. Like a cornered animal, we will fight harder because failing means certain doom.” Pinkamena explains calmly and confidently to the pegasus. Her tone is motherly and teaching.

“You keep saying we don’t have much time left. How do you know that? We lived for years at your cottage in the forest. Why can’t we just move to some other remote place?” Cozy slips behind the mare again as the forest pushes the path to a single-file gauntlet of roots and vine nooses.

“Yes, I lived a long time there but it was primarily under Celestia's reign. She was a fool and was quite happy to pretend I didn't exist. Together, you and I lived there for a little while. For whatever reason, Twilight wants to find me. She's not content to let me live out my days in peace and you are caught up in her search for me. She won't stop; she's not like Celestia was. And even if we could find a new place you don’t want to do that and, even if you did, our fates are sealed.”

“You sound so spooky when you talk like that. How can you really KNOW what will happen?” Accusatory and irritated, Cozy berates Pinkamena.

“I just know. Calm down. We’re almost there. Put on a good face for this.”

Cozy stabs her hooftip in Pinkamena’s direction. “You still aren’t being honest with me, hypocrite,” she grumbles.

“In due time, my darling.”

An orange glow dances in the distance, marking the end of their forest journey.

“So is she as crazy as you? Is she foolish for living out here too?” Cozy stabs, this time with her words.

“She’s different, not crazy.” Pinkamena answers coolly. “And she’s definitely not a fool so do your part right.”

“Fine.”

A clearing appears with a tree centered within it, bulbous, squat, and large. A multitude of colored bottles holding ingredients or elixirs hang from its branches, and a small fire reflects from each, showering the tree in flickering light. Several hoof-carved tribal masks painted in various sharp colors decorate the nearby stumps and ragged overhang of vines and foliage.

Carved into the tree are a window and door illuminated by another fire from within. A mask hangs above the door of aqua and yellow. Somewhat in the appearance of a skull, it denotes the occupation of the one who dwells inside: witchdoctor.

“Are you sure about this? I mean, it doesn’t look like the pony who lives here wants visitors.” The camera zooms on several of the masks and Cozy’s breathing pauses.

“It’s fine. I was worried she may have died. Considering the fire, I think it’s safe to assume she’s still kicking.” Pinkamena steps up to the door and raises a hoof to knock but the door swings open as she brings her hoof down. Standing inside the frame is the form of a zebra. The white and black of her coat has given way to shades of gray but the markings are still recognizable. Her mane is long and hangs to either side of her head like the thick coils of a mop. Lines of age streak her features and her blue eyes have glazed over with a milky film. Though she stands with her muzzle forward, her ears ping keenly at attention.

Cozy lets out a short, surprised cry and a small grin appears on the zebra. Her eyes still seek for visual purchase but it is obvious that she is blind. Pinkamena backs away a step, the zebra being within close proximity.

“There’s no reason,

I can conceive.

For two ponies to visit,

So late this eve.”

The zebra breathes deeply, her ears rotating in awkward, twisting motions as her other senses compensate for the loss of her sight.

“What’s wrong with her eyes?” Cozy stammers, the camera in Cozy’s grasp retreating a step at a time.

Pinkamena turns to face the camera and speaks softly but her intonation is stern. “That’s rude, honey.” Turning back to the zebra, Pinkamena adds, “Hello, Zecora.”

At Pinkamena’s voice, Zecora smirks to herself before stepping back into the tree.

“Come inside,

And let us talk,

You’ve come quite far,

For just a walk.”

Pinkamena motions to the door with a nod and Cozy dashes in front. Audibly the door closes as the camera focuses on many strange decorations inside of the tree home: more bottles, dried herbs, and various other unknown ingredients, many of which appear dubious in nature and all too similar to preserved pieces of various forest fauna. The home is one large room inside the girth of the hollow tree. Various shelves line the walls and a small, neat bed is tucked into a natural alcove. In the center is a giant cooking pot, large enough for huge batches of alchemical reagents, or even a pony.

Zecora sits at one side, her body gaunt and hunching lightly at the shoulders. Age has taken a toll on her, but her movements bely the venerable visual cues. Her profession, no doubt, has dismissed many of the particularly damaging issues associated with aging. She sits behind the gently gurgling cauldron and motions for her visitors to do likewise. Phlegmy eyes stare ahead silently as the zebra feels the pair complying to her kinesic demand.

“Please excuse this

Prolegomena,

But I will not aid you,

Pinkamena.

For whatever reason,

You are here.

My answer’s no

And will not veer.”

The zebra pushes herself up, spine popping loudly from the act, in defiance of Cozy and Pinkamena’s visit. Her features are steadfast.

The camera turns to Pinkamena who looks displeased. “I should have known better than to attempt to hide my identity from you, Zecora. You’ve always been so hard to dupe. Even without your sight you can probably spot an owl on a branch from miles away.”

Zecora smiles slightly and replies with a calm, steady tone,

“Though my vision,

Is now a joke,

My other senses

Have awoke.

But you’ve not come

For pleasantry

So state the business

You have with me.”

Pinkamena begins to grin like a sinister politician and her pupils contract. A short, muffled giggle bubbles like the green goop in the pot. Cozy’s breathing elevates while zooming in on her friend’s alteration. Zecora resiliently stares ahead blindly but smirks snidely.

Neck popping from the sudden jerk, Pinkamena’s head snaps to the side and begins to shake like a palsy victim. Spasmodically, it turns to the other side with another loud crack. “Zecora. I’ve come to request your assistance in a matter of the utmost importance. Are we not friends?” Pinkamena’s blue eyes almost glow in the firelight of the cauldron. Her voice is high and strained as if it is barely contained by the physical limits of her vocal cords.

“A friend, yes,

Long ago.

But now to equinity,

You are a foe.

I recognize

That you are frustrated

But I’ll die before

My answer’s abated.”

Pinkamena’s teeth gnash together angrily and Cozy grumbles to herself. Zecora’s ears turn to the pegasus.

“And who is this

Of such small size

A disciple this monster

Has hypnotized?”

The camera zooms to the smug zebra. Cozy growls and almost yells in reply, “She’s my m… my friend! She didn’t hypnotize me. I live with her because she’s good to me. Who are you, zebra witch, to belittle me or her? You’re no better than either of us!”

“Cozy, it’s fine. Zecora doesn’t have to help us.” The camcorder turns back to Pinkamena, now calm and unsettlingly collected. It’s as if she’s suddenly become another pony altogether from the last image of her just a few moments before.

“Pinkamena, we didn’t come all the way out here to have her ruin our chance to—”

“Cozy! I said, it’s fine. We’ll work something else out.”

“Ah, the voice

I did not know,

Was the voice

Of Cozy Glow.

Even if

It means my end.

To your schemes,

I’ll be no friend.”

Zecora remains resolute and Cozy squeals angrily like a pint-sized teapot signaling the water is boiling. Pinkamena suddenly fills the camera as she moves before Cozy, her forelegs edging the screen on both sides in a motion to restrain the fuming pegasus.

Cozy growls like Cerberus himself. “Pinkie! I want to make zebra bars again! Tonight!”

“Go outside and calm down, honey.” The magenta mare struggles with the diminutive pegasus.

“No! I’m not failing this time! Not because of a—”

Pinkamena’s features change instantly, her pupils restrict and her head tilts to the side. She does not grin, but sneers violently. She speaks slowly, deliberately, and as cold as tundra snow. “Go outside now. I will handle this.”

Grumbling and whimpering, Cozy beats her wings and zips to the door, opening it and darting outside. The heavy door slams thunderously and Cozy begins an angry tirade to the wilderness. “Go outside! I’ll show you ‘go outside’! What do you think you can do to scare that blind old hag? She’s not scared of you and she’s just as stubborn…” Much of what Cozy says is redundant. Her temper unchecked, she rages and rambles to herself, zipping from one end of the clearing to another. She knocks a mask from its place in a tree and watches it tumble to the ground. She then lands on it and drives a small hoof against the carved wood several times. Many minutes go by as Cozy vents her frustrations.

The video cuts in and out but it is apparent that some time has passed. The skies are lightening to a deep purple and many of the night calls have ceased, leaving the forest in an eerie silence. The tantrum, having met its fate, frees Cozy to spy. She pokes the lens against the lone window of the tree. Inside, Pinkamena has her head hanging low and Zecora sightlessly stares with her mouth agape. Pinkamena places her head in her hooves and shakes it back and forth. She then looks to the floor and soundlessly mouths words uninterpretable by the video. Zecora begins to nod and stands, coming over to the magenta mare. The zebra’s hooves feel softly, prodding Pinkamena gently as they decipher her anatomy before pulling her into an embrace. Pinkamena returns the hug and whispers something into the flickering ear of the zebra.

“What in Tartarus? Did she really fool her?” Cozy questions what she sees and is still questioning as Pinkamena and Zecora walk towards the door of the tree. Cozy darts away from the window and places the camera down by the fire, looking back at herself. She feigns ignorance as the door opens and Pinkamena calls for her.

“Come in, Cozy. It’s too late to head home and Zecora needs time to make the sleeping powder. She’s going to let us stay here until nightfall.” Her voice is weak and heavy with exhaustion. Zecora steps outside and disappears into the forest, a large pack on her back and a root-digging tail serving as surrogate eyes.

Cozy watches the zebra disappear into the forest, swallowed by it even as the light illuminates the boughs of the trees and the bowels of darkness within. She then steps inside with Pinkamena.

“Sorry I had to have you leave, Cozy. You weren’t helping the situation.” Pinkamena weakly apologizes.

“It’s okay. Just tell me how you talked that hag into giving us the sleeping powder.” Cozy chuckles vilely and turns the camera up to her mentor who only sighs and looks shattered.

“I told her the truth. Threatening her wouldn’t work. Nothing we could have done to persuade her would have been enough because she could have tampered with the powder and caused it to fail or become inert after a short time.”

“How do we know she won’t do that now?” Cozy sounds disappointed and confused.

“I guess we don’t. We’ll need to test it when we get back to Sugarcube Corner, but I think she’s going to help us.”

“Who can we test it on?”

“I have an idea for that, too. An old friend who still lives in Ponyville will volunteer. She’ll be perfect for what we need.” Pinkamena chuckles to herself feebly.

“Will you kill her?”

“We definitely will have to make a scene, Cozy. She’s known for being dramatic.”

Cozy is silent for a moment, a tick in her grunts reveals she is digesting a piece of information not to her taste. “You still won’t tell me the truth but you’ll tell Zecora?” Cozy sounds tired and her accusation is more disappointment than anger.

“It was necessary, my filly. I want this to work more than you’ll ever know. Please trust me.” Pinkamena practically begs Cozy not to make another scene.

The video turns to the bed that Pinkamena is leading them to, a red blanket and down mattress looking very inviting and warm. Cozy sighs in resignment and fragilely answers “Okay. As long as we get what we need.” Cozy flutters to the bed and curls against the wall. Pinkamena slides in next to her and takes the camera from her.

“Which button?”

“The one … no not that one. Yeah, that one.”

The frame moves erratically as Pinkamena attempts to turn the camera off. Cozy looks to the camera with heavily bagged eyes. She yawns widely, uvula glistening at the back of her throat. “Will you snuggle me to sleep, Pinkamena?”

“Of course, I will, honey. As soon as I turn thi” The camera abruptly shuts off.

Author's Note

This is the end of Act 2. Things are coming together for our 'Heroes' while Pinkie is unravelling.

Thanks for reading this far and I hope you will join me in the last act. It should be shorter than act 2 as the only thing left is to follow through with what this odd pair has planned.