It was early morning in Ponyville.

The majority of the ponies were snuggled into their respective beds, snoring deeply as they counted sheep in the haze of slumber. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon under Celestia's influence, and the moon had dipped slowly behind the mountains. The dark blue of night was chased away by a magnificent golden color that bathed the small town in a heavenly pale glow. The weather ponies were visible in the sky, fumbling about with the faint wisps of clouds, obviously too tired to be doing their job. Ah yes, a lazy Sunday, where everypony was tucked away at home...

Except for Film Reel.

Her ebony coat glimmered in the gentle sunlight. The chills of early fall were creeping up her spine and her breathing erupted into the air in tiny puffs of smoke.She stood in the cobblestone roads, all alone, shuddering with each move. She had to be careful; if the camera in her grasp shifted even slightly, she would have to redo the entire sunrise shot the next morning. And the next, if she messed up again. Since Film Reel was a clumsy pony, it was quite likely that this would indeed happen. She gently shifted her hooves to avoid their possible freezing up from standing up so long.

She studied her high-quality film camera. On the tiny screen was a beautiful picture of the blazing sun, and Celestia's faraway silhouette. Film Reel grinned, then pressed the stop button promptly. She had nearly 20 minutes of footage that she would have to cut and edit now, but it would most certainly be worth it. This scene would make a wonderful backdrop for her movie. She shut her camera down and turned to walk back to her house, relieved at the feeling of motion.

Ponyville's streets were desolate aside from the salesponies setting up their shops. The smell of fresh scones and coffee wafted from Sugarcube Corner, drawing Film Reel in. She slid silently into the open door of the bakery and let the smell of rising dough fill her. Mrs. Cake had taken her usual post at the front counter. Her pink eyes welcomed the black pegasus in.
"Good morning Filmy! Here for some pumpkin bread, I suppose."
"Indeed," Film Reel replied, brushing her icy blue mane from out of her eyes. "You know I love your pastries."
Mrs. Cake giggled. "Good, good. It's nice to see you up so early."
"Just... filming the sunrise for my movie."
"That's great, dear," The azure pony said joyfully, digging around behind the counter for the bread that her star customer had ordered. "Sounds like you're making great progress on it."
"I am," Film Reel responded. Mrs. Cake had flipped around now. She had placed a small cinnamon glazed slice of bread on the desk. She was grinning from ear to ear.
"That'll be 2 bits, dearie!"
Film Reel pulled two shiny coins from her saddlebag with an ebony hoof. "Here you go. Have a good day, Mrs. Cake!"
"You too, dearie. Goodbye."

With a prompt wave, the pegasus trotted away and out the door. The bitter sting of cold found her again, suddenly tickling her spine. The sun was free of the horizon now, but it was not emitting much warmth. She shivered and continued to trot. Why hadn't she brought her scarf this morning?

Oh well, she thought. I'm almost home anyhow.

The cobblestone streets passed by lazily as she neared her humble cottage. Unlike most pegasi, she preferred walking to flying and she refused to use her feathery, gossamer laced wings. She felt more like an earth pony. Her siblings were earth ponies, her mother was an earth pony...she had grown up that way. Her father had tried to encourage otherwise, but it was all in vain. She preferred to follow her mother's example anyway.

The black pony smiled a bit at the faded memories of her childhood. She remembered her mother; she was named Faraway Shadows, and was a beaut of a pony. Film Reel remembered a long blue mane and a gentle lavender coat that brushed up against her side when she was scared of the storms. She could still see those rainy nights in Las Pegasus, and the nights she and her 2 brothers didn't have anything to eat. She faintly heard the voice of her dear mother everytime her stomach growled..."I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry."

She shook the thoughts from her head hastily. Why was she getting all worked up about this again?

She would go to Lyra's house. That always kept her from thinking about her troubled past.

I'll stop by the house first and get my lute. Then we can have a jam session. Her eyes, which had watered up significantly, suddenly cleared. Lyra always did that to her.

She trotted away, a new spring in her step.

The house was quaint; you might not even call it a house. It was 3 rooms: a living room, a water closet, and a small storage space. In the living room, Film Reel had jammed a couch on the left wall and a small cot on the right. The couch had springs jutting out and cotton slipping out of tiny rips in the worn fabric. Paintings were hanging from the stained walls. There was a small bookshelf to the north of the door, but there were only about 5 books placed on the splintered wood platforms. Despite the holes in the ceiling that dripped icy cold water and the stained, peeling wallpaper, this house seemed like home. It was just beginning to get chilly outside, and soon the air would creep through the rickety windows and slide stealthily from under the door. It would mean more cold nights for the young pegasus. The only source of warmth in the cottage was a small, nearly broken heater that had no plug to power it. These nights Film Reel would spend huddled next to a fire in the living room.

She trotted forward optimistically, her purple eyes perusing the room for her plaid scarf and tattered lute. Sure enough, there they were in the corner they always were, just as she suspected. She flapped her wings in delight and slid forward to grab them and held them close to her chest. They still smelled like Lyra's house, which was a very distinct mixture of freshly printed sheet music and polished metal. It was the most industrial smell Film Reel had ever experienced, which she found quite odd, since Lyra was not an urban pony.

In one quick swaying motion, the scarf was around her neck and she was bounding towards the door, brimming with excitement. Lyra would be delighted to see her. She could simply visualize her golden eyes, her mint colored coat, her warm, soft hooves, and the beautiful music that she produced by simply plucking the strings of her lyre in a stylistic way. She was such a talented pony, that Lyra. Film Reel almost envied her for having such a cool talent.

Not only that, but Lyra was an investigator of the supernatural: humans. The young unicorn had spent hours upon hours trying to explain her research to Filmy, but it sort of went in one ear and out the other. Film Reel was more interested in playing her lute and movies than that science-y stuff that her best friend was so obsessed with. She picked up on the small things though, things that she thought would make interesting plot lines for movies. She heard words like "war" and "fingers", but everything else got filtered out.

So caught up in her thoughts, the dark-furred pony had not even realized that she was halfway across town already. The cold hadn't even touched her yet, and Lyra's house was in sight. She prayed that Bon Bon, her unicorn pal's roommate, was not home. The best times were when the pair were all alone, their harmony spreading through the hallways of Lyra's abode freely with no obstacles or listening ears. These were the times she had the most fun, no longer fazed by the thought of judgmental strangers listening in to their breezy melodies.

Then she realized she was thinking to much again, and that she was already there. Finally, winter's impending bitterness invaded her with piercing tendrils of burning ice. Raising her chilled right hoof and rapping on the door respectfully, Film Reel shook with excitement. Lyra's home would be warm and roomy. They would play and talk and have fun. Suddenly she couldn't wait, and she rapped on the door again.

This time a tomboyish voice yelled out to her, quiet yet forceful. It was her friend for sure. "I'm coming!"

There were hoofsteps from the hallway leading up to the door, then a gentle creak and the door slid open. As predicted, it was Lyra, her coat glistening and her mane pulled into a tight ponytail to the side of her face. "Oh! Filmy! It's... It's you!"

The pegasus laughed nervously. "Yup, It's me for sure!"

"What's up?" Lyra said, taking note of the lute tucked between her friend's chest and elbow. "Did you come to play? I was hoping you'd come today."

"I did."

The expression on the green unicorn's face suddenly shifted to something a lot more somber, almost a mix of concern and anxious curiousness. "Me and Bonny are going to have a movie day today, but you can come for a while. And... I don't think we should play today. I have something to talk to you about."

A series of thoughts suddenly assaulted Film Reel's mind. Was she sad, hurt, sick? Was she dying? Did something happen to Bon Bon?

"Oh... ok." She said, knowing no other way to respond.

The pair trotted into the house's arched corridor. As usual, the space was airy and seemed natural. The checked floor was almost hypnotizing as the ponies passed the kitchen, the pigments and smudges and shades simply a blur. They were approaching a room where Film Reel had never been before, the one with the heavy padlock and the polished spruce door. She had seen it many times before while getting water from the tap, but had never dared to investigate, since it was Lyra's personal business. She had always wondered about it, and was actually quite happy to finally be seeing inside. But there was something in Lyra's eyes that showed her that this was no matter to be taken lightly.

Lyra slid a key into the padlock and turned it. There was a loud click from within the gears and suddenly it snapped open. A golden magical aura gripped the handle and pushed inside the room. It was small and stuffy, unlike the rest of the house, with a dirty carpeted floor littered with doodles and scribbles of jumbled words. The ceiling was low and the only thing aside from those crumpled parchments was a desk to match the spruce door, and equally as dirty as the floor.

"Filmy." Lyra said firmly, her eyes watering. "We're all going to die."

Author's Note

CLIFFHANNGGERRR
This is the my first fanfic, so only constructive criticism plz~~
NO. THERE WILL BE NO YURI.