“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and twenty two...” Twilight Sparkle said, scratching her hoof against the rock, making another mark. “Three hundred and fifty nine thousand million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and twenty three...”

Her hoof was worn down thin, the fur, skin, and tissue underneath having long since worn away. The whole front of her hoof was a very scuffed bone, flecks and chips missing, a few cracks running up and down it. It didn’t hurt anymore, though; the nerves had long since died.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty one,” she said, having used up the chunk of a stone column thoroughly on the markings; almost its entire surface was covered in these etchings, so she couldn’t use it any more. She set it down on the ground next to her, letting out a dry, pained sigh.

She could hardly be recognized anymore. Twilight was thin, as was her fur. She had so little left on her that she looked like a skeleton with patches of thinning fur all over her body. Her eyes were sunken and hollow, the whites of her eyes having fallen to sickly yellow color. Her mane and tail were thin vestiges of what they once were—thin, stringy remnants, barely holding on to the scabbed skin they were once fully embedded within.

Her horn sparked, but it was useless. Cracked and chipped, it looked as though it had been used as a rough bludgeoning tool to beat boulders into small chunks. She moved her hooves, scraped and skeletal, and dragged an unetched rock towards her. She dragged her hoof along the surface, the horrible grinding and grating noise echoing around the empty landscape as she did so.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty,” she said, her voice raw and thin from the endless counting. “Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty one...”

Twilight Sparkle continued to count and drag her hoof along these rocks, making the marks. It was all she could focus on doing now; it was the only thing that kept her sane. Counting, counting...

Every second, I must make a mark.

Her hoof dragged along the stone.

It is the only way to keep the time.

Her hoof dragged across the stone.

The sun and the moon are useless and static and now and I must keep the time.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty four... three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty five...”

Two more marks joined the stone.

I must keep the time to keep my sanity.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty six...”

A fair trade, I guess.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty seven...”

I give something, I get something in return. Basic bartering system.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty eight...”

So then why haven’t I gotten anything in return for my horrific suffering?

““Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and forty nine...”

She made one mark, and then paused for the briefest instant. She would have cried out in pain if her voice could do anything but croak.

She made up for her hiccup almost immediately, and thrust her hoof down against the rock. “Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and fifty!”

There was a blinding flash of light, and a great heat emanated from somewhere just beyond Twilight’s massive collection of timekeeping rocks. When the flash faded, a great rolling force of energy energy buffeted her, pressing her frail form to the ground. Chunks of clay and dust uprooted from the blighted earth blasted against her cracked and scabbed skin, causing her heart to skip a defeated beat. However, none of the chunks were from her pile, so she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wh-What?” she said painfully, staggering to her hooves. She looked over at the smoldering crack that had been ripped into the ground.

“Three hundred and fifty nine million, eight hundred and twenty seven thousand, eight hundred and fifty si—”

Her jaundiced eyes opened wide.

“DISCORD?”

Author's Note

Indian giver is an American expression used to describe a person who gives a gift (literal or figurative) and later wants it back, or something equivalent in return. It is based on the experiences of early European settlers and pioneers like Lewis and Clark when trading with Native Americans. It was custom among some groups of Indians that when a gift was given, something of equal value was given by the receiver of the gift. The custom of Native American gift giving was misinterpreted by early European settlers as shady business dealings.

Wikipedia