Kisses and Crinkles

And another one.

There was a bitter taste in Lyra’s mouth, but she couldn’t tell anymore whether it came from the sticky muck comprised of her saliva and the dusty coat of fine earth that covered her entire face by now, or whether she had ground her parched throat bloody raw with the movement of her neck.

She struck again. Another one.

Lyra pushed through the remains of the magical weed before the sparkling dust had even had a chance to dematerialize. Something scraped her side. She didn’t know if it was physical or magical. No time to care. She had to keep an eye out above as well as below. The branch of a tree hung in the way, barring her passage. Break it off. Won’t go? Hack it off.

He has to be here somewhere.

Her limbs burned like fire as she dragged them through the crumbling earth. To her one side, the ground just fell away. A steep, uneven slope into nothingness, only to be measured by the infinite maze of rugged tree trunks rising past her and vanishing into the sky. To her other side, she didn’t know. Weeds rose like a wall. And in between, Lyra, keeping close to the hillside like she had said she would.

She had made her choice. And his too, by extension.

There was no sound except the rain hammering down on every surface simultaneously and the pumping of her heart. Lyra practically grabbed the ground as she steeled her jaws and hacked another weed to pieces with her machete. As if it would have mattered. If the soft earth decided to give away under her hooves, she would slide all the way down with it, and would have to crawl all the way back up again. They really couldn’t have chosen a worse spot to get lost.

Another one. Where is he?

The sprite was going steadily as never before, keeping just the perfect distance away from Lyra’s nose with almost mechanical precision. The coldness of the light only added to the effect. Every part of Lyra’s vision was illuminated uniformly, every crease on the wood, every furrow in the ground outlined in razor sharp shadows to the most miniscule of details. But despite the sprite’s best efforts, it was difficult to see. Where there were no weeds, which all looked almost identical, there was nothing but trees vanishing into the darkness and the chaotic streams of rain. And even that Lyra couldn’t make out clearly, so blurry was her vision from her own sweat.

Almost through. Come on, I know you’re here.

A thick layer of brambles supported a cluster of weeds, eliminating any chance at vision as soon as Lyra began pushing into it. It wasn’t the first barricade she’d encountered on this path, but it might be the last. It wasn’t far to the water now. The end of her fruitless search.

She’d endured blockades of rock, sprays of earth and the fury of the storm to get here. She’d called out and searched in and around every outcropping and every hollow she had come across, but silence had been the answer throughout. The pain of exhaustion seared within her very bones, but it wouldn’t even compare against the pain of defeat. The knot in her stomach almost had her double over. Everything Lyra had feared would come true if he wasn’t here. The shame. The deprecation of self. The mistrust. The loneliness. It was more real than ever.

The sound of rushing water.

Peek through the brambles. A flattened landslide, a slanted clearing, rivers of mud being pelted by streams of rain with sharp snaps. This was fresh. Washed up plants were knocked over and dangled downhill, their roots still stuck in the earth. All, except for the weeds, anchored tightly and forming a barrier that split the path into many further ahead. It would have been impossible to traverse, after the ground had turned liquid. An angry maelstrom of water, mud and earth, piling up at the bottom against dense trees.

And it all vanished away as all of Lyra’s senses immediately homed in on their sole purpose.

A speck of gold.

A glimmer of life.

“Hey! Is somepony there?” Lyra called, “Heeey! Say something! I’m over here!” The storm swallowed her voice. But catching a glimpse through the shrubbery, past all the water and half buried under the mud, it was still obvious as day.

A body was there. On the other end of the clearing, pressed against the off side of the largest tree, curled up in an attempt to brave the masses of earth coming down the hill. Amidst the roiling raw force of the raging storm and the dull darkness of the dreary night, the sign of life stood out vibrantly, like a beacon blazing out beyond the horizon.

All the more was it painfully apparent that the body was utterly unmoving.

“Damned be,” Lyra cursed. Out of the way! The branches barring her progress merely snapped under her weight as Lyra’s trembling hooves desperately dug for purchase. There was a pony there. Not somewhere far away, not down the end of the road, but right there, just within a few steps’ reach. Why wasn’t he getting up? A pony is not supposed to be half buried under the earth like that!

It might not be looking good for him. Lyra had barely made it here with all her preparation and knowledge, so stark was the power of the calamity that had befallen the forest. But he had been suffering this insanity for goodness knows how long. The odds were almost impossible. Nopony could hold on forever. And after a pony has been brought to the brink of existence, after a pony has given it their all, has spent every resource and exhausted every possibility, chances are there is nothing left to do, and just leave it be. That would be the end.

“No! I refuse!” Lyra growled, “That’s not happening! We came all this way, you and me! I’m not going to let it be for nothing! Not today! I’m coming for you!”

Her numb hooves were like foreign objects by now. Completely out of her control. All she could do was watch herself drive her tattered boots further into the thicket with frightening hostility.

Lyra kicked the thickest stem she could find to pieces, and the entire bush became uprooted, falling over downhill and tearing half of the entangled branchwood with it. That was enough for her. She threw herself forward and brusquely clambered over the vegetation, undaring to stop even for a moment as branches slapped back at her and bristles tore at her sides. She dropped down into the landslide front-first, and immediately had to crouch in order not to slip.

Despite herself, Lyra ventured another glance at the body. It looked so unnatural, twisted oddly and turned away from her, water splashing all around. And still not a hair of movement. Lyra’s breath hitched, but she immediately sprang forward and advanced toward him. She let the machete drop, it was promptly consumed by the current. See you later, old friend.

Halfway through, Lyra slipped and fell onto her side, but she conserved her momentum and crossed the rest of the way slipping down the muddy slide. Wet earth sprayed everywhere when she bumped against the same pile of debris that shielded him from the stream. Lyra pulled herself onto it. He was bruised all over his legs and his hooves, violent black spots marring the otherwise pretty fur. His dark mane clung to his sides, but the cuts and swellings were still visible.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” Lyra shrieked, “Are you Teak? Hey! Answer me!”

No answer.

Lyra clambered over the obtrusion, grasping onto anything she could to heft herself within range of touch. The rain hammered down onto her head, as did it upon his. His ears were limp and his eyes closed, his battered profile outlined by the downpour.

“Please be alive, please be alive … ” Lyra insisted, “please be alive!”

She stretched out a hoof and touched it to the yielding softness of his limp form. Cold as frozen peas. The unnatural starkness of the sensation was frightening.

Okay. Do something, now.

Lyra bent over his body. First aid. How did that work again? Call for breathing and check for help. No, wait. Turn him over first. On his back. Or on the side? But don’t touch him on the head. Or the neck. Or the limbs. What if he’s broken something? He can’t breathe like this. Do something! What was that about breathing again? Check the heartbeat. Turn him over but don’t touch him.

Lyra attempted to free his head out from the dirt, but recoiled from the touch as she decided to stabilize his limbs instead, while she bent to the other side in an attempt to put an ear to his chest. Instead, she lost her balance and keeled over forward, shoving him harshly in the side with her hooves in an attempt to steady herself. He slid away from her, his midsection bent painfully.

Painful enough to elicit a hoarse groan.

Teak rasped and gurgled. Then he was overcome by a fit of heavy, trembling coughs, snapping for air as he regurgitated mucus and water. It sounded excruciating.

It was the most beautiful sound Lyra had ever heard. The glimmer of life was rekindled.

“Hey! Hey you! It’s alright, I’m here, I’m here,” Lyra said. She was over him in one bound and grabbed onto his shoulders, holding him steady and breathing along with him. Teak managed to get the slime out of his throat, and then he took a deep, shaking breath, forcing his lungs to take up their duty again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re alright,” Lyra said, as much to herself as to him, “We’re fine, we’re going to make it. I’m here, don’t worry.”

Teak writhed under her grip, gasping for air, but his breath lost its wet stuffiness soon enough and stabilized, his chest rising steadily as his form regained some semblance of normalcy. Lyra had bent over him for cover, the hood of her raincoat broad enough to shield his respiring airways from the hammering rain. He was still beaten and injured, his posture crooked and his face swollen, but he was struggling to claw his way back from beyond oblivion, and Lyra wouldn’t let him go. She would help him emerge from the fight victorious.

Teak began reaching around with his limbs and squirming in the dirt to achieve a healthier pose, and Lyra prodded him on the muzzle, to remind him of pulling his nose out of the mud. Maybe she should close her own gaping mouth while she was at it.

“Teak, can you hear me?” Lyra said, “I’m here to get you out. Your marefriend made it back, she’s with us. What happened to you? How long have you been here? Can you get up?”

“Ugh …” Teak groaned and winced from some unseen pain, “Wha-- … Huh … “

And finally, he opened his eyes. The dullness of the dark and the muddy grime on every conceivable surface had enveloped them for longer than Lyra remembered. It couldn’t have contrasted more starkly with the shining purity of his eyes’ clear blue color.

The chaotic confusion had finally produced a spark of clarity, an opportunity for deliverance. Neither of defeat nor of resignation there was a trace. Those were the eyes of a fighter, a warrior, not unlike Lyra herself. All this time, he had been fighting along with her, both of them too scared and too stubborn to give up, both of them carrying on until they reached this point where the impossible was close to being done.

But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Teak looked not only tired, but utterly drained. Between him and Lyra, they had enough strength to hold on just a while longer, to ensure bare sustainment, both of them together a vestige of endurance within the magical and physical pandemonium.

It answered one of her questions, though. No, he wouldn’t be getting up on his own.

Teak’s gaze regained focus and immediately locked on to Lyra like a famished wanderer seeking out the glimmer of nourishment. His face contorted strangely as his jaw slowly opened and his lips parted, furrows appearing on his brow where there were none before. It was a smile! Brief, uncertain, but Lyra was sure she had caught a glimpse of it, even though it was way too similar to the expression of pain.

“So cold …” he wheezed.

Right. Freezing. Just next up in order after magical fatigue and before being battered by debris turned projectile. It was up to Lyra to take the brunt of the punishment, since she was only one in the position to straighten their situation at the moment, and she would need to find a way to shield Teak from the torrential downpour anyway. There weren’t many options left at this point, she had no more tools other than her wits and the clothes on her body. Guess that would have to do.

Lyra got up and pulled out the buttons of her raincoat from their stitched holes. Despite how flimsy the coat had appeared, its absence was promptly noticeable as Lyra pulled the chest piece wide open and was immediately invaded by the creeping fingers of pure ice everywhere on her body simultaneously.

Well, everywhere except for one part. Apparently Lyra was still wearing a diaper. In tatters as it was, stretched and strained the material as the fasteners barely held on, brown blotches of mud all over the outside, sagging under the weight of the clumped up inside. It was astonishing how the diaper still held on defiantly. The tapes had held on despite the odds, never failing in their purpose no matter how bleak the outlook, just like Lyra herself had. Except that Lyra would rather show herself in the open than her diaper. No time to worry about that right now though.

Pulling her coat snugly over both of them, Lyra laid down on top of Teak and pulled him into an embrace to create as much surface area between them as possible. Teak immediately lost the appearance of a block of ice, as his body began trembling violently like Lyra hadn’t even known was possible for a pony. It was his body’s natural reaction to scrounge as much warmth as it could, just like it was Lyra’s instinctual reaction to give as much of herself as the freezing pony needed. They both endured, their teeth chattering together.

Teak pulled his face away from Lyra’s chest. Surely, if there had been a tear coming out of him, it would have frozen in place.

“You came …” he managed out between gritted teeth, “you c-came for me … I’d t-thought I’d never see another p-pony again … ”

“Don’t worry, we came just for you,” Lyra said, “and you still got lots of other ponies to see.”

By now, she doubted she would be able to get up herself. All the intensity of the wild hunt had left her, and an inexorable exhaustion assumed her body that left her blinking for focus. No doubt was it also the weeds’ influence reaching them even here, but Lyra had spent the last of a strength she hadn’t had in the first place, and it was catching up to her. She couldn’t allow herself to rest just yet, but she would hold out as it was necessary, which wouldn’t be very long anyway.

“Because reinforcements are coming,” Lyra said, tucking her tail to seal them in more tightly, “I know you’re coming for me, Bon Bon.”

===

“She went over this?” Applejack said, the raging current almost too loud to hear.

“She’s on the other side,” Bon Bon said, “and there’s only one bridge.”

“I think you’re stretching the definition of the word bridge there,” Applejack said.

They flinched as the air temperature spiked rapidly, making their skins prickle. Twilight had been directing her magic forward mostly, but it could still be felt all throughout the barrier of force. It was a very superfluous kind of heat she had worked out, a mere facsimile of the real deal that stung on the surface of Bon Bon’s skin but left her bones aching for relief in unadulterated frost.

“This is the best I can do for now,” Twilight said, the sparkling shield around them moving with her head, “It should protect us from the water and take care of slippery surfaces. Do you think it’s sufficient?”

“Seems good enough,” Applejack said as the glistening moisture visibly evaporated from her outstretched boot, leaving it matte, “And those planks sure look like they can carry our weight. As long as we move carefully.”

“Then let’s go,” Twilight said, “I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

It was obvious who she meant, as Twilight herself seemed like she would have merrily gone on casting spells of incomprehensible complexity for hours, should she feel like it.

Bon Bon had insisted that Rarity stay in front of her, if only to catch her should she waver on the flimsy wooden boards that called themselves a bridge. Rarity was obviously exhausted, her back slumped and her head hung low as she struggled to keep a steady pace. She wasn’t injured by any means, neither did she have to do something she was uncomfortable with, but she was plain tired, and probably would have preferred a nice beauty sleep to what was going on right now.

And it wasn’t ill deserved either. Rarity had made a valiant effort to uphold the navigation spell for as long as possible. And she evidently hadn’t meddled with it, the sense of direction had been unequivocally definite all throughout the journey, and had obviously led them to spots which bore Lyra’s mark.

But the spell had all but vanished by now under the undeniable presence of the leech seed’s influence. It was still there, the ephemeral glimpse of an unseen guidepost pointing straight ahead, but it was under constant assault by callous forces, feeding off the shreds of the tattered magical bond, which barely held on by its last thread.

It was lucky circumstance that the leech seed didn’t have more influence over the magic they effected other than eroding it. Just the thought of the nefarious plants commandeering their magic and mutating it, surreptitiously sending them in an entirely different direction than they needed to go.

The raging waters underneath were so incredibly loud. What would the leech seed be willing to do to protect itself if it were sentient? Entire trees and shards of shattered boulders had been torn out by the foaming current and were lodged in the rock below. Had Lyra really been able to cross this bridge? Just one false step, and …

No. Don’t even think about it. Focus on the backside of Rarity’s fancy coat with its amethyst trim. If Rarity could carefully shuffle across unharmed in her current state, then so could Lyra. Granted, Lyra didn’t have the luxury of protection by a magical guardian, and Twilight’s shield did wonders in deflecting the sprays of water as if her shield was solid glass, while the stuffy temperature ate away at the slippery wooden surface under their hooves to make it briefly walkable. But Lyra had been sharp enough to get here, and she would be careful enough to proceed. No question she had made it across and reached the designated goal. It was only left to hope they weren’t too late.

“It’s the last one,” Bon Bon said, as she hopped off the bridge after everypony else. The rain bickered on her hood when Twilight released her shield, but she had no attention left to give.

“What do you mean?” Applejack said.

“I can feel it,” Bon Bon said, pointing straight up the hill that towered in front, “we have to go up there. But the spell is barely existent anymore. I don’t know if it will be able to give us another location after this one.”

“The leech seed have become too numerous,” Twilight said, “We must be very far into their territory by now. Using exceptional magical points as focus for the navigation spell to get a directional signal won’t work properly anymore, since the spell is drawn towards too many points at once.”

“Not to mention your signal,” Applejack said, indicating Rarity, “isn’t very strong at this point. I think it’s time to cut her some slack.”

“No, really, I’m fine,” Rarity panted, looking everything but fine, “I just need a moment to breathe. You just go on and keep your eyes open, we’re bound to find somepony eventually.”

“Rarity, please,” Bon Bon said, “Without your willingness to help, we would never have gotten so far. You’ve done everything you could. But right now, it’s as Twilight said. The spell isn’t of much use anymore at this point because of all the leech seed. We need to be careful, it’s no use exhausting yourself if not necessary.”

Rarity swallowed. The unspoken truth lay on the tips of both their tongues. They had no more advantage, then.

“How do I let it go then?” Rarity said.

“Just drop it,” Twilight said, “It won’t hurt you. It’ll go away on its own.”

“Very well,” Rarity said. She crouched down to steady herself, but before Bon Bon could think to do the same, the spell had already blown up.

It didn’t look like much as Rarity’s horn simply relaxed, but Bon Bon could feel how some fragments of the former magical concentration zipped by past, or maybe through, her head, before returning to the aether. There was an immediate absence of a weight on her conscience, it felt as if something was yanked away from her, leaving the world momentarily spinning as she was exposed to the lack of premeditated alignment. But the feeling quickly vanished as a pleasant lightness took its place.

Rarity stretched her neck. “Oh, it’s such a relief having a clear head again, don’t you think?” She said “I suppose I never realized just how much it had been weighing on my mind. It feels like unraveling a staunch headscarf after hours of wearing.”

“You have been the one who was most exposed to the leech seed,” Twilight said, “and the effect is worse if it builds up slowly instead of coming out all at once. Bon Bon? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Bon Bon said, “it was just a little sudden.”

“Then let’s not wait any longer,” Applejack said, “last stretch of the road, right up the hill.” Whatever more she had wanted to say, she decided against it. They moved out.

The way up the hill wasn’t too bad. The earthen slopes and rocky ridges were held together by lanky trees that held off the rain sufficiently, as charming little trickles of water populated the otherwise dry incline. In between, a generously wound path snaked its way to the top, allowing for slow, but steady progress. Twilight led the front, shoving the leech seed obstructions, which there seemed to be no pair of trees across the road without, out of the way.

The ease with which she dispelled the nefarious apparitions into little more than glittering dust after all this time was remarkable. In fact, the task seemed to have actually gotten easier as Twilight fell into her newly acquired routine. Just don’t leave them out of your sights, reach out surely, keep going without pause, watch your step. Her sheer confidence left her three companions at ease to keep an eye out for anything unusual within their, admittedly not very far, visibility. Considering the present situation, things were going smoothly.

That wasn’t entirely true. The tension in the air was almost palpable. There was barely a word said as they carefully trudged uphill, carrying with them the burden of consternation rather than confidence.

Every journey upwards eventually arrived at the peak. Respite was only brief, whenever the way led through clearances, between pushing through the dense vegetation and getting rid of the magical scourge. Every now and there was a clear line of sight to the top, a glimpse of the dark sky layered into alien lines by the lattice of even darker trees. It was so thick with foreboding, it clogged your throat.

“I know what’s been weighing on your mind, Rarity,” Bon Bon said, “and it wasn’t the spell.”

“I apologize if it was a distraction to you,” Rarity said, “but ours has been been a very taxing undertaking. Pay me no mind if I’m rambling, since we surely have more important things to worry about. But I believe all of us have earned some time for serious recuperation after this dreadful experience. Whatever happened here is unlike anything I’ve seen before. It’s difficult enough going this far into the wild as is, but I feel positively slain by the oppressive nature of this blight.” They stepped around a fallen sapling that had possibly been knocked over by a leech seed. “I just wish all this would find an end.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bon Bon said, “for we all feel the same. I can’t even remember the last time I haven’t felt so tired. I could just fall over. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t usually tour around this much by hoof, let alone in difficult environments like this. And, it seems, I forgot my shoes.” She raised her mud-clad hoof. The joke helped barely.

“But we have to acknowledge that ours is a much heavier burden to bear. We’ve been travelling all this way knowing approximately where to go, but what we will find is another question altogether. I hate to think about it, so I don’t, but there’s no guarantee for success. There’s a possibility we have to return with empty hooves after we catch up to Lyra. It’s better to talk about it than to keep it in.”

Rarity was keen on stretching her neck and scouting ahead by sight, but Bon Bon wouldn’t budge from her side. “I’ve never been in such a situation before,” Rarity said, “and I don’t believe anypony could find it enjoyable. The fact that we don’t really know where we’re going. We’re not exploring either, we are just following some arbitrary intuition that we can only hope will lead us somewhere.

“How can we know what we’re doing is correct? I hate to think that we arrive at some point and realize we’ve been wasting our time all along. I’ve never been particular about acting without clear purpose, and I always try to find sense in something that has none, but I’ve never felt it this bad as right now, especially with the spell gone.” She swallowed. “And, there’s also … it’s no secret that the girls and I happen to be involved in more immediate situations from time to time. But the outcome of those is usually pretty clear cut. I’ve never been in a position to be confronted with … well.”

“But it happens,” Bon Bon said, “Things do go wrong sometimes. Believe me, I should know. Everything kept going wrong as long as I can remember. I’ve never gotten along well with my parents, I’ve never been able to make friends anywhere, my entire life was a constant stream of failure. Or so I thought. It just eats away at you, being unable to finish anything worthwhile, and robs you of the clarity to recognize what’s really important and what’s only noise. I always believed that’s why Lyra saved me, because she helped me get out of all that and knocked some sense into me. Because she settled down in Ponyville with me and helped me get the shop. Because she helped me do things right and make progress. But that’s not at all what she’d been teaching me.”

The apex was close. Nerves were raw. “Oh, why do I always have big realizations when I can’t talk to her?” Bon Bon said, “Lyra merely taught me to help myself! Her encouragement was what made me believe in myself and do what I thought was right, with confidence. That’s the key, Rarity! Always stay true to yourself. And not only in good times, or even in decent times, but in the most dire of times. Don’t be afraid to trust your judgement.”

“I know it can be nice to focus on something just for distraction, but you can’t drown yourself out of your potential. That’s the noise! You’re the signal! If you know it’s the right thing to do, then it is. And not always is everything under your control, believe me it’s not, but it is just in those most trying times that you have to do the best you can do. Even if it’s just the tiniest step on the most monumental road, you will make a difference. Never stop working at it and things will improve. Right now, we have to stay calm and alert and take one step at a time. Think rationally and do the logical thing. No matter how this may turn out, we are moving ever forward.”

Rarity’s step had become confident enough to rival Applejack’s. “I never knew about your intricate past, Bon Bon,” she said, “You are right, I have to admit. I seem to have fallen into the trap of wanting to distract myself from what I did not want to realize. But that helps nopony, not even myself! I never had any intention of distancing myself from you like that, it just happened without me even noticing.” She had no trouble keeping up with Bon Bon now. “I promise I will see this through with you, sound of mind. Thank you, Bon Bon.”

“And thank you too, Rarity,” Bon Bon said, “And not only for coming along on this search, but just for being there. I wouldn’t have come this far without you. Still, I hope Lyra’s holding out for us on the hill top and we can just turn around and go home together right now.”

“That’s neither rational nor logical, darling,” Rarity said.

“I know,” Bon Bon said.

Had she really just done that? Had she just helped another pony out of a slump and given her some valuable advice on the way? Bon Bon had never experienced anything like this before, but still it had come so naturally, almost on its own. It was apparent that the seeds of something larger had been sown this night, something to treasure for a long time still. But that wasn’t why her heart was pounding like crazy.

This was it. The last blockade fell in Twilight’s wake, before them the final row of trees, a lattice into the unknown. The mystifying goal they had been chasing all this time, the summit was just in reach. Despite all the talk about being resolute, unwavering and never giving up, Bon Bon could barely move her legs. She was about to confirm what she she had only been able to assume. The truth was closer than ever. It couldn’t have been far enough right now.

Bon Bon was dragged along with inevitable finality. Applejack called out seeing something and stretched out to catch a glimpse. Twilight cleared away the last leech seed in the way, leaving only their natural counterparts loosely covering the ground. Something tugged at Bon Bon’s leg. Was it a ferocious beast trying to devour her? No, it was just a fern. Get off of me, I have to find Lyra!

The rain hit her fully in the face as Bon Bon jumped out into the clearing, but she didn’t care. This lush glade with the massive tree its defining monument, like a crown on top of the hill from which to command the entire surrounding lands. Bon Bon was familiar with it. They had been here at some point for whatever reason. That meant she knew the spots where Lyra could hide.

“Lyra!” Bon Bon called. The water tasted clear.

She ran to the far side of the clearing. Was Lyra hiding in these ferns? Her hooves were brushed somewhat clean as she dug around in the bushes, but she only hit emptiness. No Lyra here.

“Lyra?” Bon Bon shouted, but she could barely hear it herself.

Maybe she’s in that depression over there? That looks like something’s in there. It certainly would be a good place to hide. Nope, those are only a bunch of mushrooms. Lyra’s definitely not mushrooms.

“Lyra …” Bon Bon said.

The forest began to spin like a carousel, so long did Bon Bon run in circles to check out every side of the clearing. She could strain against the darkness as much as she wanted, but it remained impenetrable. The plants revealed none of the mysteries she had hoped for. Bushes stayed empty no matter how often she checked. Rocks didn’t care if they were upturned. The surrounding trees blocked the view rudely. Mosses persisted in being too small for Lyra to hide under.

Over by the tree were a bunch of ponies. Is that Lyra … ? One, two, three. Nope. Seems like her companions didn’t have much luck either.

“This is beautiful,” Twilight said, “This entire clearing is so gentle and full of life. Look at this remarkable meadow. You could write an entire article about the multitude of different mosses in one place. I’ve never been here before.”

“I’m sure I’ve been in this place before,” Applejack said, “but I never rightly considered it this much of a prospect. Seems like a nice spot for a picnic.”

“That has likely been their line of thought,” Rarity said, indicating the sodden abandoned picnic basket closer to the tree. It stood with more water than could drip between the braids, the swimming red kerchief hardly adequate against the masses of rain.

Bon Bon emerged from the darkness into Twilight’s light. “That means at least we found one thing,” she said, “They certainly were here.”

“Any luck?” Applejack said.

Bon Bon shook her head.

She was cold and tired. Her friends were really supportive, but it didn’t help one bit against the crushing loneliness. The whole talk about being patient and taking one step at a time was nice and all, but it was enough by now. Seeing Lyra again would be so nice. There was nothing here, and they knew it. They had always known. The missing pony could literally be anywhere. This conclusion had been inevitable the whole time.

One part of the talk still held true at least. Everything can’t be perfect. You win sometimes, you lose sometimes. They could be trying their hardest to comb the entire forest and to search high and low, but even then they probably wouldn’t have found him. He obviously hadn’t found his way back to town, which meant he had proceeded further into the forest, and that made him a practically vanished pony.

The odds were stacked simply too high. Lyra had probably come to the same conclusion. If she was here, she’d probably taken the straight path back to their house, the one she expected Bon Bon to follow her on, and arrived there by now. Bon Bon certainly didn’t like giving up, but there was nothing more they could do. They would probably search around for a bit, but if it were Bon Bon’s call, they’d turn around and go home.

Applejack obviously couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Alright, as far as I see it,” she said, “there are three paths that lead away from here. Since from where we arrived grew shut behind them, I reckon Parting and Teak took one of these exits when they were caught in the storm. It’s pretty easy to go down there, where the trees grow thinner, but you’d have to go quite the distance to get somewhere since it’s just wild land for at least a day’s march. Over here, past the tree, the ridge goes on, I’m not quite sure where, but maybe we can see more from the height. And back there’s a bunch of leech seed. We could go past them to get to the swamp, but I doubt we’d get very far.”

“Then let’s split up and search all of them,” Twilight said.

“I told you, no splitting up,” Applejack said.

“But we’re four ponies,” Twilight said, “we could go in groups of two each to search the two paths free of leech seed for a bit. We wouldn’t go very far, and we should agree to return soon, but any chance we can still find him is one we should take.”

“Twilight …” Rarity said, but Twilight’s shimmering eyes told revealed that, no, she wouldn’t face the truth just yet.

“Alright, let’s split up,” Applejack resigned, “maybe we’ll find something.”

It was basically a big dawdle. Noise. But at least it would serve to cool some heads. The inevitable conclusion had already settled in, the thought seemed natural to Bon Bon. Things would never be the same. How could you live on with an experience like this weighing on your mind? Sure, it would be possible in some way, it always is. But it would be horrible to be unable to forget this failure. To find yourself idle during the day and your mind slipping back into this grotesque memory. To look at the coat Bon Bon was wearing and be reminded of what happened this night. To be haunted by specters of irrecoverable loss in your dreams.

But the biggest injustice had befallen Teak himself. It was the most unfair form of demise imaginable. Out of your control, no way out. There wasn’t even anypony to really blame, so he couldn’t vent his anger either. It was terrible.

And Lyra, how would she take it? She shouldn’t have to live with this abhorrent memory forever. It was Bon Bon who had failed. Despite everything, she had arrived here what felt like many hours too late. Just imagine if she had gone to Twilight’s in the first place and they would have come here straight away. Maybe they could have linked up and they could have searched together? Would they have been able to find him with one more pony? Was this all Bon Bon’s fault?

It was driving Bon Bon crazy. Her head felt like it was going to explode. All she wanted to do was to throw her head in the air and cry to the gods, the demigods, or whatever universal being was listening, and scream for help.

Right above her, on the big tree’s stoutest branch, was tied Lyra’s red scarf, waving like a flag.

“Lyra!” Bon Bon shrieked.

The others were by her side in an instant.

“Get it down, get it down,” Bon Bon said as Twilight unravelled the scarf from the branch, “it’s Lyra’s! Look! It pointed in that direction! It’s her! She wants us to go there!”

“It’s the swamp,” Applejack said, her eyes sharp like diamonds once more, “She must have gone that way. And it wouldn’t be far fetched she had a good reason, too.”

“What are we waiting for,” Rarity said. Bon Bon tore the scarf out of Twilight’s grasp.

Bon Bon whirled around. “Let’s go find her,” she exclaimed. Rarity caught the scarf before it hit the ground. Twilight was already prepared to dispel.

“Everypony, follow me,” she said.