“Twilight, are you sure this is a good idea?”
Spike asked this question as he watched Twilight pore over a small scroll. She was sitting at the writing desk in her room, sunlight streaming in through the window to illuminate her work. Her brow was furrowed and there were large purple bags under her eyes, which were wide open, her eyelids fighting against the weight brought on by sleep deprivation.
“What do you mean?” she asked, without turning to Spike. “I’ve deciphered plenty of spells before. This one shouldn’t be any different.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “But it says ‘bad idea, don’t do’ on the scroll.”
It was true. On the side of the scroll, in big red lettering, the words “bad idea, don’t do” were scrawled in an angry font, with a poorly drawn frowny face beside them.
Twilight waved him off. “Lots of unicorns put things like that on their spells so nopony else will steal them. Trust me, Spike, I have this under control.”
“Okay...” Spike said, still not entirely convinced. But if he knew Twilight as well as he thought he did, she wouldn’t stop until she had finished decoding this spell.
Spike was on his way out of the room when Twilight jumped up.
“Eureka!” she shouted.
“Gesundheit,” Spike responded.
“Ha ha,” Twilight shot back.
Spike shrugged. “What?”
“Nothing,” Twilight said, holding the scroll in her hooves. “I finally found out what this spell is for!”
“What?” Spike asked.
“It says it’s a ‘pick-me-up,’” Twilight said. “Something that helps energize you and wake you up.”
“Like coffee?” Spike offered.
“Exactly,” Twilight responded. Then she yawned. “And I could definitely go for a pick-me-up right now.”
Her horn started to glow as she prepared the spell, gathering her magic and focusing her mind so as to not mess it up. She opened the correct magical pathways in her body and allowed her power to flow, only releasing it when she was sure she had configured the spell correctly.
The effect was immediate.
Twilight suddenly got the feeling that she had been bucked in the brain, then had lemon juice squirted on it, then taken a cheese grater to it for the better part of a fortnight. Her pupils shrank to an almost non-existent size and she stared straight ahead, her widened eyes fixed on the far wall.
Then, everything came alive. She could feel the blood running through her veins; she could hear each insect that scurried in or outside the walls of her home; she could smell Spike’s breath from across the room; she could feel each individual hair of her coat moving only millimeters at a time; she suddenly knew that there were exactly fifteen active woodpeckers within a five-mile radius of where she was standing, three of which were female.
“Twilight, are you okay?” Spike asked, waving a claw in front of the unresponsive unicorn’s face.
Twilight didn’t react. She was too busy noticing things. The direction that the grains of the wood moved attracted her attention, then the sound of fillies playing just outside the library caught her ear. She looked outside and was almost blinded by all the stuff, all the things that were out there just waiting to be explored.
She had to get out there.
With slow, trudging steps, Twilight began making her way downstairs.
“Twilight, what’s wrong?” Spike asked, almost frantic now. “Twilight, please answer me.”
Twilight seemed to notice her assistant for the first time. She turned to him and opened her mouth to speak.
“Spike,” she said, her voice high-strung and breathy, “everything is so... everything.”
Then she continued her journey, going down the stairs and right out the door.
Twilight was greeted by the most overwhelming sensation she had ever felt upon leaving the treehouse. Everything was so vibrant, so alive that she could only describe it in her mind with the heavy use of italics.
Greens were greener than they had ever been, reds doubly so. She could see each individual blade of grass on the ground or leaf on the trees and know exactly how they all felt. She could hear their cries as they were trampled and eaten, but even in her state, she knew she could not save them. It was the way things were meant to be. She shed a single tear at their plight.
Spike caught up with Twilight, who was staring fixedly at the ground and muttering something under her breath.
“Twilight?” he asked. “Are you... apologizing to the ground?”
Twilight didn’t respond. She just kept standing there, eyes focused downward like a zombie as she swayed ever so slightly with the wind.
“Just stay here,” Spike commanded, “I’m going to go get help.”
He backed away, keeping an eye on Twilight for as long as he could, before turning and sprinting toward Carousel Boutique.
Spike ran as quickly as he could, pumping his arms, gritting his teeth, and taking deep, panting breaths as he dodged around the ponies in the market. It was still early, so Ponyville wasn’t crowded, and the boutique came into view in no time.
(*)
Twilight was counting the blades of grass around the library when a leaf blew across her vision, instantly attracting all of her attention. She followed it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, oblivious to the trees she rammed head-first into and and benches she tripped over, completely unaware of the ponies she was making unintended intimate bodily contact with, and definitely bereft of attention toward the questions she was asked.
She asked the leaf about itself, learning its history. It was a rambunctious little leaf with something to prove, leaving the tree even when all the other leaves told it that it was too young. Now it was ready to take on the world, prepared for the epic adventures that awaited it wherever the wind took it and excited to face its destiny.
Then a bee flew by, and Twilight followed it instead.
(*)
Spike ran to Carousel Boutique and burst through the door. Rarity was in her living room drinking a cup of tea and reading a fashion magazine that she held aloft with her magic.
“Rarity!” Spike cried.
Rarity jumped, startled, and sent her tea all over herself in a dark-colored waterfall.
“Ah!” she yelled, and Spike winced. “Spike, what have I told you about knocking before you enter a lady’s home?”
Rarity levitated a towel in from the kitchen and began cleaning her coat.
“Sorry, milady,” Spike said, averting his eyes and kicking the ground.
Rarity opened her mouth again, but Spike’s demeanor cooled her anger. “Oh, I could never stay mad at you, Spikey-wikey.” She finished wiping the tea from her coat and went over to Spike, pinching his cheek. A dopey smile found its way onto Spike’s face and he closed his eyes, reveling in the attention.
“Now,” Rarity continued, “what is so important that you had to come barging in like that?”
Spike shook himself out of his stupor. “Twilight cast a new spell and now she’s acting really weird. I thought you might be able to help since you’re a unicorn, too.”
“Well I don’t know how much help I’ll be, since Twilight is much more talented in the magical arts than I, but I would never ignore a friend in need,” Rarity said. “Of course I’ll help. Lead the way, Spike.”
Spike nodded and left the boutique, Rarity in tow.
They hurried through Ponyville, Spike explaining the situation on the way.
As they approached the library, however, Twilight was nowhere to be found.
“Oh no,” Spike said. “Where did she go?”
“Perhaps she went back inside,” Rarity offered, but, after a quick check, Spike confirmed that Twilight was nowhere in or around the library.
“How could I have left her alone?” Spike asked, thumping himself on the head.
“Come now, Spikey-wikey,” Rarity said, rubbing his head and smiling at him, “no need to beat yourself up. She can’t have gotten far; I’m sure we’ll find her.”
Spike smiled back. “Thanks, Rarity,” he said.
“Anything for you, Spike,” Rarity responded.
“Come on,” he said, “we’ve got a unicorn to find.”
(*)
Twilight followed the little buzzing insect until its meandering path took it in front of Sugarcube Corner. The pinks and browns of the building danced and vibrated in her vision, and her mouth began to water at the heavenly scents wafting forth from within.
She stopped following the bee, turned, and went inside.
There were many ponies enjoying breakfast inside and the building was alive with conversation, but Twilight ignored it in favor of the various pastries that lined the small shelves in the counter. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth began to water at the sight of so many donuts, muffins, cupcakes, danishes, fritters, slices of cake, slices of pie, and bear claws. She had to know what they tasted like.
She leaned forward to take a bite, but was stopped by some sort of demonic, transparent forcefield. Another attempt was taken, but the evil blockade was still preventing her from getting what she so desperately desired. She tried again, and again, and again, but to no avail.
(*)
Pinkie Pie and several of the patrons dining at Sugarcube Corner watched Twilight stare at the pastries behind the counter and bump her face into the glass, repeatedly, each time taking a moment to gather her wits before simply doing it again.
“Uh, Twilight,” Pinkie said, “what are you doing?”
Twilight didn’t answer. She hit the glass again.
Pinkie Pie approached her friend. “Come on, Twilight, if you want some food, all you gotta do is ask your good friend Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie put her foreleg around Twilight and started guiding her to the kitchen.
(*)
Twilight felt something on her shoulder. She tried to shrug it off as unimportant, as all that mattered was getting to those pastries, but the thing was insistent, and was eventually able to pull her away from her mission.
When Twilight turned around, she couldn’t believe her luck. There was a pony she vaguely recognized, and, attached to its head and butt, were two giant, fluffy, sugary pieces of cotton candy.
With a sickening twist of her body, Twilight leaned around and snapped her mouth over the cotton candy in the back. In all this, she only had one thought, one all-consuming idea and only a single all-important notion.
It was the best cotton candy she had ever tasted.
(*)
Twilight maneuvered out of Pinkie’s grasp and clamped her mouth over her big, pink, fluffy tail.
“Oh!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Twilight, how could you? Why didn’t you tell me that you play this game, too?”
Pinkie Pie, with Twilight still drooling all over her tail, dropped onto all fours and angled herself so that she could herself bite Twilight’s tail, which she then proceeded to do.
The crowd looked on in horror and awe at the two mares vigorously chewing on each other’s tails in the middle of Sugarcube Corner. Parents covered their children’s eyes with their hooves and children did the same for their parents, until nopony in the whole restaurant could see anything.
But they could certainly hear it: the gnashing of teeth, the strange grunts, and, of course, a noise that sounded like “gna-gna-gna-gna.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Www, twawwaw, yr rewwey grwd wt thsss.”
Twilight didn’t respond.
(*)
Twilight chewed to her heart’s content, but eventually her attention wandered. The cotton candy she was enjoying was wonderful, but there were so many other things to explore. She heard a bell ding, then got a vague notion that she wanted to be somewhere else.
Then, in a brilliant flash of violet light, she was.
(*)
“Alright,” Spike said, official detective magnifying glass in hand and sassy fashionista in tow, “if I’ve followed her trail correctly, she should be right...” He looked up and came face-to-facade with Sugarcube Corner. “In here.”
The trail had actually not been very difficult to follow. With all the trees with damaged bark to guide them, not to mention testimonies from several disgruntled and violated Ponyvillians, they had been guided to the largest gingerbread house in all of Ponyville.
A bell rang as Spike pushed the door open. He was completely unprepared for what he saw.
Twilight was in Sugarcube Corner, alright. She was chewing on Pinkie Pie’s tail with gusto, but she had a glazed, far-away look in her eyes. Pinkie was, in turn, eating Twilight’s tail, attacking it with the energy that only Pinkie could muster when eating another pony’s tail. Standing some distance away was a crowd of ponies, each with somepony else’s hoof over their eyes, but none making an attempt to move away from the activity going on in front of them.
“Um...” was all Spike’s brain could muster. Rarity blushed and her jaw nearly hit the floor.
Then, like Spike had witnessed so many times before, Twilight disappeared.
Pinkie Pie looked around, confused for a moment, before kicking the ground with her hoof. “Shoot, I was winning.”
One by one, the crowd began to remove their hooves from their loved ones. Spike rushed over to Pinkie Pie.
“I’m a little afraid to ask what was happening just now,” he said.
“We were playing tail-bities!” Pinkie exclaimed, going from sad, to jovial, then to sad again. “But Twilight left before we could finish.”
Rarity cleared her throat. “It looked like a little more than just a game, darling,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Pinkie asked.
Rarity smiled. “Well, the tail is very near to the... um...” Her blush deepened. “Nevermind, dear. I’m sure it was just a game.”
Spike chimed in. “Do you know where she went?” he asked Pinkie.
Pinkie Pie shook her head. “Nope. I was just getting ready to employ my super-secret tail-bities special move when she just up and poof! Gone.”
“Argh!” Spike cried. “I can’t believe we just missed her.”
“Why?” Pinkie asked. “Is something wrong with Twilight?”
“She found a new spell called a ‘pick-me-up’ and now she’s acting really weird,” Spike explained. “I just want to find her before something bad happens.”
“I thought pick-me-ups only came in powder form,” Pinkie said, raising an eyebrow.
Rarity ignored her. “Spike, I think it’s so sweet that you’re so worried about Twilight, but I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”
“Thanks, Rarity,” Spike responded.
Just then, Pinkie Pie’s tail started to twitch.
Spike ducked and looked up. “Oh no, something’s going to fall!”
“No, silly!” Pinkie responded. “That’s only if just my tail is twitching. My tail is twitching,” her tail twitched, “my hooves are itching,” she scratched one, “and my eyelids are switching!”
As gruesome as that sounded to Spike, it turned out that Pinkie was just blinking each eye separately.
“So what does that mean?” he asked.
Pinkie Pie gasped. “I know where Twilight is! Follow me!”
Pinkie hit her hoof against the counter and a sign dropped down from the ceiling. It read “Trying to find a unicorn, be back later.” Then she took off into the kitchen and out the back door of Sugarcube Corner, with Spike and Rarity right behind.
(*)
After teleporting, Twilight appeared on the opposite side of town from Sugarcube Corner. She was in Ponyville’s more residential district; houses lined the street, each one more identical than the last, the only distinguishing features being the various gardens on display in each yard.
There were roses, violets, chrysanthemums, lilies, and every other type of bud imaginable. Twilight could smell the colors in the air; they danced in her nostrils like tiny clowns doing ballet, colorful and playful and fun.
She was stunned by the sensation. She stood, her nose buried in a rosebush, for an indeterminate amount of time.
(*)
Rainbow Dash was flying. It was something she did quite often, and she enjoyed it immensely. She had done her job, so there weren’t any clouds in the sky. It was forecast as a clear day, and Rainbow had made it so.
She was congratulating herself on a job well done when she noticed something purple and familiar below her. Twilight Sparkle was standing in somepony’s yard with her head stuck inside a rosebush, and Cheerilee stood next to her.
As Rainbow Dash circled around and lowered her altitude to investigate, she heard Cheerilee talking.
“Um, Twilight?” she said. “Would you mind getting your head out of my rosebush? I was going to do some gardening today, and you’re making it, well, difficult.”
Twilight didn’t respond.
“Hey, Cheerilee,” Rainbow said as she came to a stop a few feet above the ground. She looked at Twilight, who had moved her head further into the bush, and whose rump was now sticking up into the air. “What’s... uh, up?”
“Well,” Cheerilee responded, “there’s a unicorn in my rosebush, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”
Rainbow Dash motioned Cheerilee away with a hoof. “Here,” she said, “lemme see what I can do.” She poked Twilight in the side. “Twilight?” she asked. “Hellooo... Equestria to Twilight. Anypony home?”
There was no response.
Rainbow Dash poked her harder. “Come on, Twilight, joke’s over, Cheerilee needs her garden.” Still nothing. “Don’t make me pull you out of there,” Rainbow threatened.
Twilight didn’t move a muscle.
Rainbow narrowed her eyes. “Alright,” she said, “you asked for it.”
She clamped her forehooves around Twilight’s waist, dug her back hooves into the ground, and pulled. She heaved and hoed, yanking with all of her might, but Twilight stayed rooted in place. Rainbow Dash started beating her wings to give herself extra leverage, increasing the speed more and more as she felt Twilight start to give ground.
Then, as Twilight lost her grip, Rainbow Dash’s momentum carried her and her captive backward. They sailed through the air, landing with an unceremonious thump on the ground ten feet away from the bush.
Rainbow landed on her back, and with the way she had been pulling, Twilight landed on top with her rump directly in Rainbow’s face.
“Ach!” Rainbow said, pushing Twilight off of her. Twilight stood up and fixed her eyes on Rainbow. “What’s wrong with you, Twilight?” Rainbow demanded.
Twilight didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide, staring at Rainbow Dash’s mane.
“Uh, Twilight?” Rainbow asked, waving a hoof in front of her friend’s face. “Are you okay? You’re acting really weird. Like, weirder than usual.”
There was still no response.
Then, Twilight took a deep breath through her nose, as if inhaling a delicious smell.
“Rainbow,” she breathed out. “You smell so... fruity.”
Rainbow Dash blushed scarlet. “How could you possibly know that just by smelling me?” she asked, lowering her voice.
“Is everything alright?” Cheerilee called from her location next to the bush.
“Yeah, fine!” Rainbow called back, letting out a nervous laugh. “No need to come over here or anything, everything’s under control!”
“Okay.” Cheerilee, who now had a pair of shears, went about pruning her rosebush.
Rainbow Dash was preparing another question for Twilight when a shrieking call tore through the air.
“There she is!”
Rainbow turned around to see Pinkie Pie, Spike, and Rarity charging toward her at full speed.
“What—” Rainbow started, but she was interrupted by a magical noise from behind her. She turned back around, but Twilight was nowhere to be found.
Pinkie, Spike, and Rarity ran into Cheerilee’s yard.
“Shoot!” Spike said. “We missed her again.”
“Hi, Cheerilee!” Pinkie called, waving to the schoolteacher.
“Hi, Pinkie,” Cheerilee said back, giving a small wave before returning to her work. “Just ignore them, Cheerilee, and they’ll go away,” she muttered to herself.
“Are you alright, dear,” Rarity asked Rainbow Dash. “You look a bit... flushed.”
Rainbow cleared her throat. “Of course I’m alright!” she asserted. “I was just... flying a lot, so that’s why my face is red. Yeah, that’s it, no other reason.”
“If you say so,” Rarity responded.
“Pinkie,” Spike said, “can you track her again?”
Pinkie Pie, looked back at her tail, which was no longer moving. “Sorry, Spike, but I don’t—wait!” Her tail began to twitch again, only slightly at first, but it quickly grew more intense.
“Wait,” Rainbow interrupted, “what is going on here? Why is Twilight acting so weird?”
Spike explained for the third time that day why Twilight was how she was.
“I thought pick-me-ups only came in powder form,” Rainbow said.
“That’s what I said!” Pinkie Pie responded, scratching her hooves in the process.
“Um, Pinkie?” Rainbow asked. “Why are your eyes doing that?”
“Nevermind that!” Spike said, hopping up onto Pinkie Pie and straddling her. “Come on, we’ve got a unicorn to find.” He gripped either side of Pinkie’s head and she reared back. “Hi-ho Pinkie, awaaaayyy!”
A unicorn, a pegasus, and a dragon riding an earth pony made their way through Ponyville in pursuit of the unicorn called Twilight Sparkle.
(*)
Twilight wasn’t sure where she wanted to go. In fact, she wasn’t really sure of anything. The world was bleeding together, everything blending and folding over on itself until it resembled a painting in which the colors had run together, creating an impression of something without having a sharp image of it.
She was aware that she was in a tree. Everything seemed to want to draw her attention at once, like she was at a birthday party with a thousand foals all crying for her to take care of them. Each leaf wanted her, each little piece of bark called her name, all the buzzings of insects and chirping of birds assaulting her ears until it was too much for her to take.
With her senses overwhelmed, her awareness of her body dissolved. The tree shook and she fell, landing on something soft that complained as she came down. It was hard to tell what it was saying, but it was soothing nonetheless. It gave her something to focus on, to drown out everything else.
(*)
The last thing Applejack expected to fall out of the apple tree when she bucked it was a unicorn. Specifically, Twilight Sparkle. Twilight landed on Applejack and she collapsed, more out of the unexpectedness of the act rather than the actual weight.
“Consarnit!” Applejack cried before pushing Twilight off of her. “What in the hay were you doin’ in mah apple tree, Twilight?”
Twilight stood up and Applejack did the same, brushing dirt off of herself. Twilight stared straight at Applejack, her eyes wide and her ears perked.
“Uh, Twi?” Applejack asked. “I there a reason yer actin’ nuttier than a squirrel in an oak tree?”
Twilight said nothing for the longest time, then burst out into a giggling fit. She clutched her sides, laughing despite the concerned look Applejack was giving her. Twilight then, still laughing, walked over to Applejack and threw her forelegs around her, cackling directly into her ear.
“What in tarnation’s got into ya’ll, Twilight?” Applejack asked, trying to push her away. But Twilight held fast, laughing even harder now.
“Your voice... say something else,” Twilight giggled.
“Ah think you need to go home, Twi,” Applejack said.
Twilight continued laughing, even when Applejack crouched down and lifted the librarian onto her back. Applejack was surprised by how light Twilight was; she was easy to carry, even after the work that Applejack had done thus far that day.
Luckily, Applejack came across Big Macintosh on her way back past the house.
“Big Mac, can ya’ll finish bucking the east field today? Something’s up with Twilight, and Ah’m gonna take her home.”
Big Mac looked at Applejack, then at the unicorn giggling to herself on her back, then back to Applejack. “Eeyup.”
“Thanks,” Applejack responded. Then she began traversing the path that would lead her from Sweet Apple Acres to Ponyville. Twilight just stared up at the sky, giggling occasionally.
She was halfway to town when she saw, off in the distance, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Spike, and Rarity racing up the path toward them. All except Spike panting heavily by the time they got to Applejack and Twilight.
“Thank goodness,” Spike said, climbing down from his steed. “Where was she?”
“She fell out of a tree and landed right on top of me,” Applejack deadpanned. “What is wrong with her? She’s actin’ crazier than Big Mac when Ah tried to take away that smarty-pants doll.”
Twilight giggled again.
“Right...” Spike trailed off. “Anyway, long story short, she cast a new spell and now she’s acting weird. We’ve been trying to catch her all day.”
“She’s been like this all day?” Applejack asked.
“Yup!” Pinkie Pie chimed in. “She left Sugarcube Corner before we could finish out game of tail-bities.”
“Ah’m not even gonna ask.” Applejack turned to Rarity. “What’d she do to you?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Spike alerted me when the whole mess started, and I’ve been chasing Twilight down with him all day.” She shuddered. “I did however, witness the, ah, tail-end of her game with Pinkie Pie.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “I get it!”
Applejack turned to Rainbow Dash. “Yer awfully quiet, Rainbow. What happened with you and Twilight?”
“Hm? Uh, nothing! Nope, I just helped Cheerilee get Twilight out of her rosebush, nothing else interesting at all, not a thing.” She smiled a plastic smile.
“Right...” Applejack said. “Well, we should probably get Twilight back home before she does anything else strange.”
Everypony present assented and they started off down the road. They were making good progress, and it seemed like they had finally secured Twilight for good, when the unicorn spoke.
“I wonder what Fluttershy’s face tastes like.”
Then she was gone.
(*)
“Okay, Angel, time to eat your lunch.”
Fluttershy set the enormous bowl of salad on the table in front of the frowning bunny. Angel stamped his foot and crossed his arms, examining the salad from leeks to lettuce, trying to find a flaw in the design, but the yellow one had actually done a satisfactory job this time.
Angel flipped the salad onto her head anyway.
“Oh, what was wrong with it this time, Angel?” Fluttershy asked, pulling two slices of tomato off her eyes. Angel turned his nose away and ignored her. “Oh well, I guess some little bunny doesn’t get dessert.” Fluttershy reached behind her back and pulled out her secret weapon: a chocolate dipped carrot.
Angel stared at it with wide eyes and an open mouth, and then started drooling. He jumped at it, sure that he was quick enough, but the yellow one yanked his prize away at the last possible instant.
“Ah ah ah,” she chided. “Dessert is only for good little bunnies who finish their lunch.”
Angel leaped into the air over and over, narrowly missing the carrot each time. Now the yellow one was torturing him, he was sure of it.
Then there was a flash of light. The carrot dropped into Angel Bunny’s paws and he held it up in a display of victory before scampering away. The hoof that had previously been clutching the treat was now occupied with holding Fluttershy to the chandelier.
“Oh, it’s just you, Twilight,” Fluttershy said, letting go of the light fixture and fluttering back to the ground. “You scared me. Can I get you anything?”
Twilight, who was facing away from Fluttershy, looked around, as if searching for something. She turned around and, when she saw Fluttershy, she started.
“Fluttershy...”
“Are you okay, Twilight?” Fluttershy asked. “You don’t look so good.”
Twilight said nothing, instead walking over to Fluttershy and gripping her face in her hooves.
“Eeeep!” Fluttershy said, seizing up and blushing at the sudden contact. Her body went rigid, her limbs stretched straight downward.
Twilight seemed to not notice. She pressed her face against the side of Fluttershy’s and started moving her tongue across it.
Fluttershy, who was completely immobile, just experienced the strange sensation in stunned silence.
(*)
Fluttershy’s face tasted like butterscotch.
That was the conclusion Twilight reached after licking the side of Fluttershy’s head. The furry texture was odd, though not entirely unpleasant, and the taste of butterscotch was overwhelming.
Twilight, having succeeded in her task, suddenly felt exceedingly tired. She needed something soft. Fluttershy was soft.
She would sleep on Fluttershy.
(*)
“Come on,” Spike called, “we’re almost there!”
The party of friends hurried up the path to Fluttershy’s house. Rainbow Dash, who had flown ahead to scout the area, returned to them.
“They’re not outside anywhere,” she reported.
Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Spike, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash hurried through the gate that led to Fluttershy’s yard, startling many animals out of their habitats as they went. Spike knocked on Fluttershy’s door, but there was no reply to the hollow wooden sound.
He grabbed the doorknob. It turned easily, and he pushed the door open. “Hello?” he called. “Fluttershy?”
The door swung open to reveal Fluttershy standing in the kitchen. Her legs were wobbly, her eyes were empty, her face was red, and there was a very asleep Twilight Sparkle on her back.
“Fluttershy!” the group called out collectively, rushing in to assist their friend.
Fluttershy didn’t respond. Twilight was perched precariously on her back, her right hooves dangling over Fluttershy’s right side, the left on the left side, and her head resting on Fluttershy’s withers. She was snoring softly.
Rainbow Dash waved a hoof in front of Fluttershy’s face. “I think Twilight broke Fluttershy,” she said.
“Oh, no,” Fluttershy whispered. “I just don’t want to wake her.”
Twilight rolled over and ran out of Fluttershy, tumbling to the ground in a heap. Everypony in the room winced, prepared for whatever Twilight waking up would bring with it. Twilight stood up, eyes still closed, wandered over to Fluttershy’s couch, collapsed, and went back to sleep.
“Whew,” Spike said, wiping his brow. “I thought for sure she was going to disappear again.”
“Well,” Rarity said, “let’s hope that whatever Twilight has done to herself wears off after a nice long nap. We should stay here, in case she wakes up. Is that alright, Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy smiled. “Or course. You’re all welcome to stay for as long as you need. I just have one question: What’s wrong with Twilight?”
Spike gave a long-winded explanation of the day’s events, including tail-bities, whatever had happened to Rainbow Dash, Sweet Apple Acres, and finally, Fluttershy’s.
Fluttershy only had one thing to say at the end of the story. “I thought pick-me-ups only came in powder form.”
“Tell me about it,” Pinkie said.
“Spike, where are you goin’?” Applejack asked.
Spike, who had been heading for the door, turned back to face the group. “I’m going to go make sure this never happens again.”
Everypony nodded, and Spike was on his way.
(*)
Spike returned to the library, making his way upstairs with a purposeful stride befitting a dragon on a mission. He slammed open Twilight’s bedroom door and glared at the offending object.
The scroll with the “pick-me-up” spell stared back from the floor, uncaring and unmoving.
Spike seized it and took it downstairs. He stood in front of the fireplace in the living room, sucked in a deep breath, and let loose a puff of green flame that set the logs ablaze. He grabbed a poker and stoked the fire, leaning over it as if it were his child.
Then, when the fire was hot enough, he tossed the scroll in. He watched it go up, twisting and burning into nothingness in less than an instant. Satisfied, he patted his hands together and started on his way back to Fluttershy’s to wait for Twilight to wake up.
As he went, there was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind, like something he overlooked, but he couldn’t place it. He dismissed it and kept walking.
(*)
Princess Celestia sat on her throne, taking documents from a pile on her left, signing them, and placing them in a pile on her right. It was a boring job, but it was one that had to be done, so she did it with as little care as she could muster. She didn’t read the papers; for all she knew, she could be signing off on the destruction of an entire nation.
She tried not to sweat the small details.
Her work, however, was interrupted by a puff of smoke that brought along with it a scroll. She was surprised, as she hadn’t been expecting a friendship report from Twilight for a while. She opened the scroll, and saw in big, red, angry lettering, the words “bad idea, don’t do,” in her own hoofwriting.
“I was wondering where I put this,” she said.
She tucked the scroll away and continued working.
