Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare's Precognition

Chapters

PART 2: Child of Consequence
PART 4: Commend Thee to Thy Dearest Friends
PART 5: Follow the Sound
PART 1: Away the 'Mare
PART 3: The Binding of the Tourniquet

PART 2: Child of Consequence

Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare's Precognition

Part 2: Child of Consequence

Her head was heavy. Pinkamena lifted it laboriously from the floor, standing up on shaky legs. She quickly flopped back to her stomach. She felt lopsided like there was something upsetting her sense of balance when her head moved. Wherever she was, it was dark. Wasn’t Ms. Sunblossom supposed to tuck her in? This certainly wasn’t her bed. She looked behind her, perceiving a small vertical sliver of light through her dizziness. Trembling horribly, she tried to get back to her hooves but tripped clumsily over herself as she tried to make her way toward the source of light. Momentum carried her forward in a heavy drunken walk that she couldn’t stop. She smacked into something and heard a set of creaking hinges and the clunk of wood against itself as she fell on her side into the light. Her impact with the floor seemed far more painful than she expected, her vision going white as light blinded them. Little sharp sparkles filled her vision and she was seeing things. It was hazy, but there were rocks everywhere. Where was she? Was she moving? The ground under her shook and the darkened sky above her was suddenly filled with an array of brilliant color searing away the clouds like a great cleansing wind. She could see the initial shockwave coming and when the pulse of air reached her she was sent flipping through the air, her vision sent tumbling into another spiral.

Smack! She hit the ground and her eyes forced themselves open. It was like waking up from a dream, but without the rested feeling of sleep. She felt exhausted. Her stomach churned and she found that her legs were moving as if her body were trying to walk. She rolled up onto all fours, hanging her head and feeling like she might vomit. Nothing came up though, there was no fuel for it. It had just been an intense hunger pain. Taking a moment to view her surroundings, she found herself in a room she didn’t recognize. She had apparently been in a closet underneath a staircase. It was empty, its shelves dusty and untended. The one thing that had tumbled out with her was a crusty and old looking broom.

Her eyes were getting used to the light now, but she found it strange. Had she not been going to bed? Why was the sun rising? And it was coming in through a pair of small curtainless windows revealing the age of a frayed green couch, more wood than it was cushion. She moved slowly around to edge of the stairs, shaking her head as residual flashes of the image she had seen persisted in her eyes. Gray then color, gray then color. It hurt more than staring at the sun.

She forced her way through it, and looking up the steps found they led to an empty balcony. There was no need to go up there, the door was just near it anyway. She wobbled toward it, fighting through her headache and bumping into a nightstand that had been knocked over. Where had she gone? Exiting the room, she immediately tilted too far to her right and stumbled the nearby wall at the end of the hall catching her. She put a hoof over her eyes. She saw a foggy image of Ms. Sunblossom waving at her. The mare’s hoof rested on a rock with a symbol that Pinkamena couldn’t make out on it. Everything began to seem more immediate and there were ponies running every direction, indistinguishable, but panicked. Her vision tunneled and with one last sudden pain, she slapped her hoof to the floor and her head shot up wide eyed. She was fully awake now, the heaviness gone like weak food poisoning.

“M-Ms. Sunblossom?” She whispered. Nopony was around. She had no idea what had happened. One moment she had gotten lost and now it was morning. She winced as her stomach reeled again, but as the feeling passed she took off down the hallway and left the abandoned room behind her. There was a long stretch of sunlit hall and she took a right and then her first left and coming to another intersection, second guessed herself and tripped, the two halves of her body trying to go different directions. She fell on her side, spinning clumsily around the corner, and sending up a puff of dust. With some relief, she recognized where she was. This was where she left Ms. Sunblossom the night before. Everything was abnormally quiet and rather than get back up, Pinkamena lay where she was, tucking her tail between her legs and curling up in ball.

She didn’t keep track of how long she was there, but she didn’t know what to do. It seemed like the world had shut off on her. Time had frozen or everypony had somehow disappeared. She tried with any mental power she still had to remember what had happened, how she had gotten here. There was nothing, nothing but a filly lost in her own home at night and then a closet under the stairs. Yet a single click of a hoof was all it took to set the world back in motion. She heard it, but still didn’t move. They were coming from the adjacent hall and they were flat hoofed and weary sounding. They stepped around the corner slowing at an almost hopeless pace. They bumped into her as if the pony they belonged to wasn’t paying attention. They stopped before her hesitantly. Pinkamena could feel somepony looking down at her, but she still didn’t move.

“Am I seeing things now?” A voice yawned. The pony teetered to the side, trying to go on, but struggling. Pinkamena’s ear gave a twitch and she turned her head to look up at the familiar source. It was Ms. Sunblossom, but she looked ragged. There were defined bags under her eyes and her mane was ruffled and uncombed. Her gaze looked emptily forward and she moved slowly around Pinkamena as close to sleepwalking as she could probably get without actually being asleep. Pinkamena reached out and wrapped her two front hooves around Ms. Sunblossom hind leg as she passed. The mare turned back to look at her, doing a double take. Pinkamena gave her an earnest expression of wonder, hoping that under some wild circumstance that her caretaker would know what happened to her.

“Miss…Miss Sun…blossom?” Pinkamena said slowly like she wasn’t sure.

“Pinkamena?” Ms. Sunblossom’s eyes widened as the filly clung to her.

“Y-You didn’t tuck me in…” She wasn’t sure why she chose to say that. Perhaps it was her way of asking why it didn’t happen. All she wanted was answers.

“Pinkamena!” Ms. Sunblossom exclaimed, suddenly jolted half awake. She pivoted around and scooped Pinkamena up in two hooves and gave her a bigger hug than she ever expected. Pinkamena remained still, her head over Ms. Sunblossom’s shoulder. She could tell how tired Ms. Sunblossom was simply by the way the mare’s chest rose and fell against hers unsteadily, and the way her whole body seemed to subconsciously shake slightly.

“Oh my goodness,” Ms. Sunblossom sighed. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” She gave Pinkamena one last squeeze and brought her forward, looking at her with a set of eyes that struggled to maintain contact. “I looked everywhere dear. You didn’t come back for bedtime. Where did you go?” Ms. Sunblossom’s look of sad concern was hurtful to receive. Pinkamena bit her lip, but flinched, finding that there was already a cut there.

“I-” Pinkamena started as she drew in air. “I don’t know…”

“Oh…” Ms. Sunblossom let out piteously as she saw Pinkamena bite her wound. “You don’t know? How did you cut your lip dear?”

“I don’t remember what happened…” She whimpered. “I went to go bed and I…I got lost.”

“Honey…” Ms. Sunblossom started. “I know this place is big, but you need to pay attention to where you’re going. We looked everywhere for you. You can’t just uh-”

“Oh…” Pinkamena was left with feeling that Ms. Sunblossom state was her fault. And it was true, at least how she saw it.

“Mmm,” Ms. Sunblossom stopped what she was saying seeing Pinkamena’s upset face. She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry dear…I was worried about you. You look like you wondered off some place awfully unsafe. Here…why…why don’t we…” She trailed off and Pinkamena began to slip from the mare’s grip.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena said poking at the mare’s nose with a hoof.

“Wh-” Ms. Sunblossom shook her head, her eyes drooping wearily.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh I’ll be fine dear,” She replied. “I just haven’t slept. Heh,” She laughed to herself. “And now the sun’s up. What a night… But we found you and that’s what matters. Mwah,” She gave Pinkamena a kiss on the forehead. The little filly looked back at her, baffled. Pinkamena felt the need to thank her, but she had no idea how. With Ms. Sunblossom being so happy to simply see her it didn’t seem like there was anything that could repay the smile she was receiving. She had made Ms. Sunblossom smile in a sad kind of way, but she liked it. The fact that she knew she was the reason her caretaker had such a bright expression filled her with a giddy warmth that she had no idea how to express. Her own face remained emotionless, but in one quick movement, she snapped forward and put her hooves around Ms. Sunblossom’s neck, clinging like a magnet.

“Wh-” Ms. Sunblossom returned the favor lightly after being taken back by the gesture. “Well, thank you Pinkamena. Now, up you go.” She slung Pinkamena up like a saddlebag onto her back, standing up but stumbling slightly. Pinkamena tightened her grip, but Ms. Sunblossom put a hoof to the two she had wrapped around the front of her caretaker. She sighed

“Don’t worry dear,” She said. “I’ll make it.” Pinkamena relaxed as Ms. Sunblossom began walking back toward the kitchen. Laying her head down, Pinkamena’s ears drooping.

“I thought you were gonna tuck me in,” She said quietly.

“It’s morning now Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom told her. “I can’t imagine spending the whole night alone, but surely you must be hungry.”

“Yeah…” She agreed sullenly. She might have been able to put being alone the entire night in perspective had she remembered spending the night alone. Whatever it had been like, its results had exhausted Ms. Sunblossom more than it had her. They made their way to the mess hall, Ms. Sunblossom concentrating all the while on walking a straight line and Pinkamena trying to pull her own memory out of the depths of her brain. Both of them faltered, Pinkamena only managing to remember the before and after and Ms. Sunblossom trying to correct herself from straying to one end of the hall, found herself on the other. As tired as Ms. Sunblossom was though, they made it to the kitchen just as she had promised. Not all of the fillies and colts were up yet and they had just began to fill the tables, small groups of them scattered about waiting for breakfast to be ready. Ms. Sunblossom made her way straight to the cooking room door and opening it, cleared the way for an array of clanging and boiling sounds. The smell of tomatoes hit Pinkamena’s nose immediately and her ears perked up. She raised her head to see if she could get a peek at what they were making. Her mouth began watering and she hastily slurped up a drop of slobber that almost fell from her lips. She sunk back down in embarrassment, covering her mouth with her front hooves, hoping no pony had seen.

“Hey there Emese,” One of the cooks passing by presently greeted. Pinkamena hid behind her caretaker’s mane as if her near mishap was still apparent. “What brings you back here? You brought a friend I see.” Pinkamena flattened herself against Ms. Sunblossom’s back at the realization that the cook knew she was there. He was a tall lanky stallion with navy blue fur, a short, puffy black mane atop his head, and a frying pan as a cutie mark, his greeting delivered with bright enthusiasm.

“Hey…” Ms. Sunblossom replied wearily. “Was just checking on the progress.”

“It’s been steaming. We’re almost ready.”

“Good,” She said with relief. “This here is Pinkamena.” Ms. Sunblossom turned to her side so Pinkamena was fully visible. The filly sunk away from the attention only looking at the cook with sidelong glances. “She was out all night without anything, so I want you to give a nice big glass of water.”

“Ah,” The cook seemed to realize something. “Will do ma’am.” He turned his words to the filly. “You know I heard from some others that you caused quite the panic last night. You had your poor Miss Sunblossom worried to tears.”

“I-well,” Ms. Sunblossom flustered. “That’s not important, I…” she trailed off.

“It’s true,” the cook filled in the blanks for her. “You didn’t sleep did you?”

“Wh-” She seemed offended by his accusation curling back her nose and glaring at him. “You know I couldn’t,” She scolded. “Why she could’ve- I- what if- mmmm.” She was too tired to come up with a story and fell to silent simmering with a displeased look on her face.

“Hehe,” Pinkamena found a giggle escape her. She had never seen Ms. Sunblossom act like this.

“Wh- Pinkamena!” Ms. Sunblossom turned her peeved eyes to the filly with a sour look of betrayal.

“Haha!” The cook laughed with her. “Your friend has some audacity there.”

“Well,” Ms. Sunblossom turned away from the cook turning up her nose. “Why did I bother?” She started walking away shoving open the swinging door and heading back into the mess hall.

“Don’t you worry ma’am,” The cook called after her. “I’ll make sure your darling gets her water.” The door swung shut and Ms. Sunblossom lowered her nose.

“What a dunce,” She muttered to herself. Pinkamena felt a pang of guilt as they trotted to a nearby table. She couldn’t tell if Ms. Sunblossom was genuinely upset or not. She thought the cook had just been teasing her, the way adults do, but to her, her caretaker seemed a bit hurt. But she hadn’t laughed in a long time and had forgotten how refreshing even a small giggle could be. It made her unhappy that it had to be at poor Ms. Sunblossom expense, especially after everything she had just put her through. They had found a seat and Ms. Sunblossom was about to put Pinkamena down when she shook her head. Ms. Sunblossom looked confused for a moment and Pinkamena pointed to the seat at the next table over. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she should sit in that spot in particular. Something was telling her it was favorable and she was hungry. It was closer to a group of fillies and colts, and Ms. Sunblossom seemed more than willing to move her. She sat Pinkamena down in the stool and gave the filly’s mane a brush.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena asked just as Ms. Sunblossom was about to leave her.

“Yes?” She replied.

“Did he make you mad?”

“I’m sorry?” Ms. Sunblossom seemed to have forgotten what she was talking about.

“That one pony,” Pinkamena said. “Did he make you mad? I’m sorry I laughed at you.”

“Oh,” Ms. Sunblossom put a hoof around Pinkamena’s head, giving her a hug and smoothing out her mane a few more times. “You’re fine dear. And don’t worry about Walter. He’s a smarty flank with everypony.”

“Wal-ter?” Pinkamena echoed.

“That’s his name,” Ms. Sunblossom told her. “And it’s good to see you laugh. Don’t stop on my account. Now, I have things to do little filly. Behave and stay with everypony else for today. Can you do that?” Pinkamena nodded and Ms. Sunblossom patted her on the head. She walked off turning back to give Pinkamena a wink.

“Smile,” she whispered and continued on her way. Pinkamena managed a half smile that faded quickly as she watched her caretaker sway wearily away down a hall at the far corner of the mess hall that only the adults ever went down. Her curiosity piqued slightly, but it didn’t overwhelm her hunger and any wonder she had was forgotten as something thumped to the table in front of her with a glassy thud. She turned abruptly in her seat, losing her balance, and nearly falling off. But a hoof steadied her and pushed her back into her sear. Before her was a large glass of water and the hoof that had stopped her fall was the supposed Walter.

“My,” he said. “Excitable little thing aren’t we?” She looked at him blankly, unsure what to say to somepony who wasn’t Ms. Sunblossom. He stood for a moment with her staring at him, waiting for her to say something back. “Well…” he started after the awkward silence. “There’s your water filly. Drink up!” He was about to walk off, but Pinkamena interrupted his first step.

“Say you’re sorry,” she said.

“Eh?” He stopped raising an eyebrow.

“You made Ms. Sunblossom mad,” Pinkamena reiterated. “Tell her you’re sorry.” Walter pursed his lip, his face contorting as he tried to stifle his laughter.

“Wh- eehehe,” He stomached it at first, a light giggle coming out followed by silent chuckles. “Hahaha! Ahahahaha! Whoo!” He burst into laughter. Pinkamena stopped glaring, her eyes flicking about the spectacle before her with wonder. What was he laughing at?

“Ha…haha…” Walter breathed in. “What a treat!”

“Hey!” Pinkamena stamped a hoof against the wooden stool and puffed her cheeks in indignation.

“What?” He looked back at her still twitching with laughter. “I come over here and give you a special glass of water and instead of a thank you…heh-” He stopped to chuckle again. “Heheh. Instead of a thank you, I get ‘say your sorry’ HA! You ARE an audacious one.” Pinkamena started at him.

“Wh-What’s audacious?” She asked.

“Never you mind little filly,” He answered. “But, maaaaybe, if you can guess what number I’m thinking of, maaaaaaybe I’ll go tell your sweetheart that I’m sorry,” He grinned coyly at her.

“She’s not my sweetheart,” Pinkamena said as a simple matter of correcting him.

“Heh. You’ve been practically stuck to her from what I hear. You like her?” His question seemed odd to her, but she answered it anyway.

“She’s…nice…” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Ha. Of course, now how about that number?” Pinkamena narrowed her eyes at the stallion and he in turn did the same to her and the two entered a staring match with Pinkamena trying to see if she could see the number floating somewhere around in his eyes. It was almost as if she could. It was a strange feeling and she continued squinting. Her eyes popped open.

“Two,” Pinkamena said innocently, with earnestness in her eyes.

“Ha!” Walter exclaimed. “Nope! But since you were so convincingly adorable when you said it, I’ll get your food for you. How’s that?”

“Hmph,” She puffed her cheeks again and pouted.

“Good?” he ruffled her mane with a hoof. “Good!” He affirmed. “You’ll grow up to have plenty of sass, I just know it. Now you enjoy that water and I'll be right back.” He trotted gleefully back toward the kitchen leaving Pinkamena to brood. She didn’t for long however as the mentioning of the water made it catch her eye and at this point there were little drops of moisture condensing on the sides of the container. She stared at for a moment catching herself licking her lips. She looked from side to side making sure no pony in the gradually filling eating room was watching her. She reached up onto the table with her front hooves and drug the glass toward her. It was cool to the touch and even the outside of her body seemed to welcome its presence. It was an adult sized glass and as gracefully as she could, Pinkamena took it in two hooves, lifted it, and tilted it to her face. Her whole head could have fit in the top if she had wanted it to and the first drops that came out splashed her in the nose. She sneezed with a squeak and a slight gurgle as water splashed into her face from her recoil, portions of it dripping from her chin. She was either unaware of how silly it made her look or was too parched to care. Pinkamena continued drinking. It was too much for her to finish all in one go, but she was surprised at how thirsty she had been. When she put the glass down, it was a little over half empty.

“One order of tomato basil an-” The voice approaching her stopped. She looked up to see Walter, a tray in one hoof carrying a steaming bowl of soup and next to it a large biscuit. His greeting was much the same, preceded with laughter. “Ahahahahaha!” He reeled. “You really did enjoy that water, didn’t you?” Walter smiled at her, biting his lip, but doing a better job of containing his outbursts this time.

“Um…” She didn’t know what to say. “The glass was too big,” she said as a matter of fact.

“Ha. Indeed. Lucky for you I have this,” Walter set the tray on the table and from it took a small napkin, tossing it onto her face. Suddenly all she could see was white and she tried pushing the object off her head the way a cat might, rearing her head back and using a hoof to try to brush it away. But before long another hoof stopped hers, wiping her head down from the top, the napkin flopping away from her eyes as it moved to her chin.

“There you go,” Walter said, satisfied even though he’d left Pinkamena’s fur all puffed and disorderly. “Now as your waiter for today, here is your breakfast.” He gracefully placed a bowl of reddish gooey soup blended with sweet smelling green herbs on the table plopping a large, fluffy, heat tanned biscuit next to it. Pinkamena closed her mouth and swallowed, not wanting the same mistake that had happened in the kitchen to occur again.

“Looks good huh?” Walter grinned slyly at her, seeing her entire body react in an eager desire to eat. “Perhaps we have a tip for our waiter?” He raised his eyebrows doing his best impression of classy.

“Um,” Pinkamena’s eyes flicked around. “Be gentler with the napkins…” She looked back at him with pure earnestness, fairly certain she had managed to do what he asked.

“Haha!” he bellowed. “Not quite what I meant, but you’ll get there.” He gave her mane another ruffle and turned back to the kitchen. “You enjoy the rest of your fancy river water there little filly,” He called back to her, and vanished back into the kitchen. Pinkamena crossed her eyes, frowning at her snout and brushing the scattered fur down. Ms. Sunblossom was a much neater pony, she thought. Yet Walter’s antics had lightened her mood up enough and despite being slightly irritated with him, she felt better. Maybe this was how Ms. Sunblossom felt.

She snapped out of her daydreaming, the tangy smell of her soup catching her nose again. Her expression soured as she realized Walter had neglected to give her any silverware. It was fine though, it was soup and she broke apart her biscuit, dipping it in the mixture and eating it that way. A group of colts sat near her as the place filled as more fillies woke up. Finishing the bread, she simply drank the rest of the stew, licking the leftover basil choppings from the bottom of the bowl. They left a clingy, sweet taste on her tongue that made her crave something salty. She washed it down with the rest of the water that Walter had selflessly given her, but found herself still slightly hungry afterward. But to her surprise the colt that had sat across from her, offered her his biscuit telling her that he couldn’t eat things with wheat in them. After some uncertainty, she accepted his offer with a barely audible ‘thanks’ and nibbled on the bread until the cooks gave the colt a carrot instead. Then she bit into the bread, feeling a bit gluttonous in the process, but it satisfied.

Pinkamena hopped down from her stool when she finished, but when she landed firmly on all fours, she realized she had no idea where to go. Her mind immediately jumped to the hallway she had seen Ms. Sunblossom wander off into. Making her way out of the rows of stools and tables, she caught sight of the doorway tucked in the corner of the room. She trotted slowly and quietly over to it as if she had to be silent or somepony might notice and tell her not go back where only the older ponies were allowed. She entered the hall with a sense of wonder and guilt, feeling like she was somewhere she shouldn’t be. It was a short section of the building only a few doors on each side and it ended in a dead end wall. A pair of voices from one of the few rooms branching off from it attracted her attention and she slid quietly over, hoping at first that one of them was Ms. Sunblossom. She heard her caretakers name, but the voices were not hers.

“She’s not good for Emese,” a mare said as Pinkamema’s ears caught onto the words mid sentence. “We need to get rid of her.”

“Get rid of her?” A second pony, a stallion, responded. “What an awful thing to say.”

“Hmm,” The mare grumbled. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that Emese can’t be spending so much time on just one filly. Little thing went missing last night somehow and the mare stayed up the entire time looking for her. Kept telling me she had promised to tuck her in. I guess she found her this morning and she came in here and you know what she did?”

“What dear?” The stallion asked to get the mare going again. “You really don’t need to get so bent up about things like this.”

“Why she tried to go right back to work though,” The mare exclaimed. “Told me she had bills to pay and the poor gal almost fell asleep on her way to the desk.

“Well the desk is empty, where’d she go?”

“I couldn’t let her work like that. I made sure she went right to bed. She was out like a light too.”

“Hm…” The stallion seemed hesitant to agree with her. “I guess that’s good. It’s not bad that she’s a hard worker either though dear. You can’t really blame her. She’d have done the same if any of the fillies here went missing. You really think Pinkamena is bad for her?”

“She’s been devoting a lot more time to her lately. But you saw her outside yesterday. The little thing hid in the corner all of playtime. She doesn’t fit in here. She’s far too shy and doesn’t talk to anypony. She’d be far better off if we found her a family that could devote time to her, rather than taking away all of Emese’s time with the other fillies.”

“Right…”

“What? You don’t think so?”

“The end result is alright. It’s your reasoning for it that comes across a little er…crooked.”

“Wh-crooked?” She sounded offended. “Why I never!”

“Please don’t fret too much dear. You can’t just rush the poor filly into adoption. In the meantime, I need to make sure all the little ones are well fed and well behaved and you…” He trailed off.

“I,” The mare stated. “I am going to be filling out these forms. It would be terrible of me to send Emese away from her work and then leave it undone.”

“See now there’s some straight thinking I can deal with. You do that. Have fun dear.”

“See you when I finish.” Pinkamena suddenly realized that was the end of their conversation, but failed to react as she heard hoof steps approach the door. It creaked away from her and she drew back, flattening herself to floor as her only immediate measure of hiding herself. It was less than effective and as the stallion exited the room his head turned, looking over her at first, but locking onto her once his peripherals detected something out of place. He seemed to recognize her, much to his discomfort.

“Oh,” He frowned. “How long have you been there little one?” She didn’t move, her tail drawn up to her head around herself, hoping that if she managed to resist even blinking that he still wouldn’t see her or might forget she had been there. “If you’re looking for Ms. Sunblossom she went to bed. This isn’t a place for fillies anyway, run along.” She still didn’t move and the stallion’s expression went from surprised to disgruntled.

“C’mon you,” He picked her up impatiently and plopped her onto his back, making a short trip out of hall before taking her off and placing her away from it. “You should go outside,” he told her. “Some of the faster eaters are already there. I’m sure there’s room for you in their games.” Pinkamena turned away from him and began walking slowly toward the exit. Satisfied with her obedience, the stallion went over to the tables, sure somehow that he had convinced her that making friends was easy. His conversation with the mare before made sense to her now. It was no wonder Ms. Sunblossom paid special attention to her. She was probably the only pony out of the adults that knew how to deal with her stubborn timidness. Walter was probably second, but he was only a cook.

But before she knew what was happening there was a flash of light and an image of a hall flickered in her eyes. Her vision tunneled to very end of it and as she hit the door on her left, she suddenly cut back to reality. Her head snapped up from the floor and glanced around with stiff, confused movements. No pony else reacted at all and the stallion from before was still trotting obliviously away. She looked behind her and immediately recognized what she had just seen. With a few telegraphing glances she dashed back to the hallway the stallion had booted her out of. She peeked her head around the corner once she was there, making sure he hadn’t seen her and then slipped back into its confines. It was a windowless hall and the only light was the sun that managed to creep in from the mess hall and a long morning beam coming from the one open door. She tip hoofed passed it, not wanting to alert the mare working diligently at the desk inside. After passing it, she made straight for the end of the hall and turned to the door on her left. It was slightly ajar and, peeking through it curiously, she nudged it open bit by bit with the tip of her nose, making just enough space for her small body to slither in.

Pinkamena found herself in a dim room with drawn curtains blocking the light. It was a small bedroom with a couple dressers and a desk with a lantern on it, papers scattered haphazardly on its surface in front of an inkwell. After taking in their surroundings, her eyes moved to the bed parallel to wall on the other side. Ms. Sunblossom was splayed clumsily across it, her mane over her face, her two hind legs stretched out behind her while her front ones were tucked close to her chest. Her breaths were soft, nearly silent, and Pinkamena stood suddenly aware of her own breathing. Somepony who slept so quietly might be disturbed if she was louder than they were. Was she lucky though, she thought? How had she known to look here?

She took a step back, suppressing an awed gasp. The wall behind Ms. Sunblossom was covered in photos all of them, from what Pinkamena could see, were families of ponies. There were all sorts of groups, some of only two parents and one filly and others with whole groups of all different ages, but all of them always had one little filly in the foreground of them front and center. She didn’t know what to make of all of them and her thought was interrupted when she stepped back and bumped into something. For a split second, instinct took over and she whirled in a one eighty and before she even knew what she has doing, catching a small wooden picture frame deftly between a hoof and her nose.

Pinkamena felt disoriented in the aftermath. Was it luck? There was no way she would have been able to do that again. She set the frame down on the floor in front of the dresser, thankful she hadn’t woken Ms. Sunblossom with her clumsiness. The picture in the object was just like the others, always happy, and always a family. She turned away from it, her hoof stepping on something else that almost sent her stumbling backwards again. But it only made her hoof flinch back the moment before she realized what she had stepped on wasn’t the floor. It was a light green and white striped sock, the kind that was long enough to go up an entire leg. It was for a front hoof and Pinkamena lifted it from the wood by her nose eying it crossed eyed as it clung to her face. She went to pull it away, but ended up sneezing it off instead. It landed a few feet away and she froze as Ms. Sunblossom stirred slightly, shifting only a little, but taking in a large breath and exhaling heavily. Pinkamena approached the bed, eyeing it and wondering if it was even okay for her to be here. She hopped up on the bed and saw her caretaker’s peaceful slumber up close. It wasn’t until now that Pinkamena noticed that the mare’s hind legs had the same colored socks on them that she had encountered before.

Pinkamena moved across the undisturbed covers that Ms. Sunblossom lay on and sheepishly placed one her hooves to her caretakers. To her surprise, they relaxed a little at her touch , but they were uncovered and they were cold. The mare whose warm touch always seemed so affectionate had cold hooves when she slept. It was no wonder she wore the socks, but had apparently forgotten to put two of them on. Ms. Sunblossom was practically laying on her side now, so Pinkamena gently pulled the mare’s two front hooves away from her body and laid herself across them. The response was immediate and Ms. Sunblossom curled her hind legs in. Pinkamena brushed the mare’s mane back revealing a peacefully satisfied face. Pinkamena smiled, proud of herself. She imagined that this must be what Ms. Sunblossom felt like all the time when she took care of her. It was short lived however as a sudden voice petrified her, her heart taking a leap as she stifled the impulse to jump.

“What an adorable waste of time,” It said. Pinkamena was too frightened to look anywhere but the photo covered wall behind Ms. Sunblossom and bit her lip only to wince again at the reminder that there was still a wound there. The voice was a grating hiss, the kind that inspired chills and sent all her nerves crawling around under her skin. It didn’t seem to come from anywhere though. It entered her ears as if spoken by the air and not anything like the wind. It was like the space around her was talking. Pinkamena drew in a sharp breath, mustering the courage to turn her head to scan the room. She looked to the door first, but to her astonishment, no pony was there.

Out of the corner of her eye another set glittered back at her from the darkness in an isolated corner. Her eyes widened. It was herself she saw in the corner of the room, unhappy and frowning with an unamused look of contempt. The figure walked out from the shadows, an image right out of her nightmare. But this mare wasn’t covered in blood nor accompanied by a fire. Yet its mane retained its eerie bladelike quality at the normally straight ends and its pupils were sharp, diamond-like, instead of round like hers. But it unmistakably still looked like her.

“What?” It smirked at her, its eyes brightening now that it had her attention. “Did I interrupt your luxury? Go ahead. I won’t stop you from swooning over your sweetheart.”

“What?” Pinkamena nearly squeaked, the word hardly able to utter it. She suppressed her body’s urge to tremble as well as she could, but this image of her that was apparently standing at the foot of the bed was terrible. It’s gaze was icy and it’s words were mocking, holding no inkling of remorse or shame.

“You could kiss her if you wanted,” It’s smile widened, revealing teeth that also seemed like her own, but were still somehow sharp, glinting even in dim light like a carnivore’s. “Go on,” It poked at some sick inner corner of her that she was unaware even existed. “Give her rosy cheeks a lick. There’s more blood beneath those than we’ll ever need. I’m sure it’s sugary sweet just like you think she is.”

“Who…” Pinkamena’s voice shook, all of her suppressed trembling desperately funneling itself out when she spoke. “Who are…you?” She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.

“Oh…” It lowered its ears frowning. “That hurts. You know us and we know, of course, that you know it.” It’s grin came back as quickly as it went. “We’re Pinkamena. Who else in Equestria could we be? That’s the feeling of what you feel. Have you never looked in a mirror filly?”

“But…” She stammered.

“Shhhshhh,” It quieted her. “You’ll wake sleeping beauty if you make a fuss. Just know that I tell only truth when I say that we could only ever be you. No mare looks quite like Pinkamena and no pony could ever be as sad. Little filly’s pastries all burned in the oven and now the piteous thing is cuddling in bed with the only cupcake she could find.”

“Wh-Why are you making fun of me?” Pinkamena’s eyes welled up.

“It’s easy,” The figure chuckled. “Look at you. An urchin clinging desperately to her half-mom. It’s poetic. Sweet, they’ll say. Too sweet. So sweet it makes the tongue sour. They’ll tell you your little moment here is a cutesy delusion. Don’t they all speak so true? They’ve been hurt like you and you know just like they do too. The world is fire isn’t it Pinkamena? Can you feel their judging eye? Your nanny saves you from your nightmares and eases your fears and you come running to her bedside to warm her hooves when she gets cold feet. It’s indulgent and they’ll say it’s a lie. An unrealistic lullaby meant to numb minds into happiness while it’s just perverted whimsy meant to use layers of cuteness to hide secret undertones laced with lust. They don’t want these happy endings,” The figure gestured to the photos on the wall. “They want you to die! They want their tragedy to sting so they can contemplate sweet unindulgent death. That’s what this place needs! More thoughts of suicide, more drugs to bring the masses to their knees! Your orphan love is only meant for children’s books whose words are not worth their critic. You’ve seen it laughing at you from the fire little filly. The silence that makes the mighty author’s throne, salty, bitter, and worth our souls in ink. Your pungent, strawberry sister love is nothing but a joke, a fruit only for weak stomachs and lonely lips. It’s your fear they want! It turns the pages and drills the mind into holes of thought. You don’t have to be scared though. Spit in their faces! Don’t give them what they want! Forget mommy little filly, you have a daughter now. I’ll help you. Hoof in hoof, we’ll make sure our future is paved in the life of those who’d mock our flowery food. You can see it all, just two more casts and we’ll have the world at our feet…”

The figure stopped and Pinkamena stared at it, baffled

“What are you…talking about?” She asked, suddenly feeling horribly unsafe and vulnerable.

“You don’t remember?” It seemed almost gleeful at this realization. “Last night you used the circle and wanted to see the future?”

“No…” Pinkamena slowly shook her head.

“Ha! You really do inspire the highest amount of pity that you can. You woke me up you see. I’m your new friend, that deep corner somewhere in that spirit of yours that wants nothing more than control. Who can fail when they know the circumstances before they happen. I’m what you wanted Pinkamena. Even if you say you didn’t, some part of you did or you wouldn’t have put your hooves to a ring of blood.”

“B-blood?”

“Blood!” It echoed, hissing a yell back at her. “Do you have nothing to say? Your preemptive vision will fade if the spell isn’t cast twice more. We need blood Pinkamena. We need young blood and that’s your job with so many around. Dear filly you birthed us, now feed us!”

“Stop!” She yelled at the figure. “I don’t-” She stopped, snapping her mouth shut as the body under her shifted. She turned her head back to Ms. Sunblossom whose eyes flittered, struggling to open.

“Who are you talking to honey?” She asked in a sleepy whisper. Pinkamena didn’t say anything, but held her breath. Ms. Sunblossom rolled over onto her back, taking her hooves out from under Pinkamena and splaying herself out, tucking her front hooves to her chest again. She turned her head away and to Pinkamena’s relief, seemed to fall right back to sleep. Pinkamena sighed. Her head snapped back to the figure as she finally puffed herself up enough to be angry at it. But it was gone. Pinkamena’s eyes met an empty room and the silence and sudden feeling of isolation made her fur stand on end.

She moved back, keeping an eye on the room and stepping over Ms. Sunblossom, feeling like the horrible image of herself could jump out at her at any moment. Resigning herself back to being a blanket for Ms. Sunblossom’s hooves, Pinkamena curled up and lay across the mare’s chest to make sure they were warm. As comfortable as it was—the lulling rhythm of Ms. Sunblossom chest moving steadily up and down—she couldn’t fall asleep. She might not have looked as tired as Ms. Sunblossom, but being lost and apparently unconscious had left her more exhausted than she might have thought it would. She began drifting away eventually, but even as she did the figure’s words haunted the insides of her eyelids, creeping up on her again and again. Whatever she had done suddenly terrified her. She wished she could remember, but after seeing her own face bent and twisted with malice preaching murder at her, maybe it was better if she never did. She banished her efforts and nuzzled herself away in Ms. Sunblossom’s fur.

_____________

When Pinkamena woke up, it was past noon. She felt oddly warm and discovered as her droopy eyelids opened that Ms. Sunblossom was gone and she was on the bed alone with the covers pulled over her. It was cozy enough that she didn’t immediately move, laying there for some time sunken in place on the cottony mattress. Her body wanted her to move though, and as thinly lit as Ms. Sunblossom’s room was, sleeping during the day felt off. She pushed the blankets off and stretched out her legs, letting out a wide yawn as she pulled her muscles awake. After stretching horizontally, she stood up all the way onto the tips of her hooves arching her back, shaking a bit as the stiffness of sleep left her joints. She rubbed her eyes and hopped down from the bed. She surveyed the room. Even sleep had not faded the memory of her phantom self telling her she needed blood. There was nothing. Pinkamena moved across the room slowly as if making too much noise might make the apparition appear again. When she reached the door, she slipped out of the room hurriedly, taking time only to notice in passing that the picture she had left on the floor was back in its place. She headed into the mess hall which was emptying, the last few stragglers finishing the evening meal.

Pinkamena’s ears drooped. She really had slept all day. She trotted past the tables to the kitchen door. Arriving in front of it, she stopped, standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She was a bit hungry having slept through two meals, but the metal kitchen door seemed imposing and all the clanging and bustling she heard titter around on the other side implied that the cooks were all preoccupied with cleaning up. Sniffing the air, she caught a scent she couldn’t place, but it still made her long to get the slobbery taste of sleep off her tongue. Twice she raised a hoof to push the door open, but second guessed herself, unsure what she would do once she was on the other end. Who would she ask? How would they respond? What if they thought she was selfish for wanting more? None of them could keep track of which fillies had eaten and which hadn’t. What would they think of her? Her mind reeling with doubt, the filly backed sheepishly away. But before she could resign to herself to defeat the door swung back and a familiar pair of enthusiastic eyes noticed her standing near the threshold as soon they passed.

“Well what have we here?” It was Walter with a small apron on and damp hooves smelling pungently of dish soap. It was a clean flowery scent that made her stomach ache more, but not for what she smelled. She wanted food, not candy. “Did you have a nice nap?” Pinkamena lowered her head, but maintained eye contact with Walter, sinking back, feeling like she needed to hide under one of the tables to mask her shame.

“Oh no need for that,” Walter said. “I’m not stalking you. I just couldn’t help but know after hearing Ms. Sunblossom brag about how sweet you were.” Pinkamena stopped, but still hung hear head, embarrassed that Walter knew what she had done.

“Now don’t you pout,” He continued. “There must be some reason you’re lingering around the ol’ kitchen door. You miss dinner filly?” Pinkamena nodded hopping they might have something left over.

“Well you stay put then,” Walter told her. “I’ll go see what I can salvage.” The stallion vanished back into the kitchen and Pinkamena stood quietly for several moments, brushing her tail against the floor, nervous, but still eager. Walter came back shortly and, to her delight, held up a baked potato nested in a napkin.

“You’re in luck,” He said. “I managed to snag you one of these. It’s still warm too. Here.” He held it up to her nose gesturing for her to take it. “They’re kind of boring once they get cold. Eat up.” She eyed the vegetable longingly, but hesitated. It was a large potato. They were always filling to her and she doubted her ability to eat the entire thing.

“Um…” Pinkamena glanced from it to Walter apprehensively. “Maybe just half…”

“Oh?” Walter brightened. “Are you going to share it with me?” He asked with a eager smile.

“A-alright,” She agreed, figuring it was better that the other half not go to waste.

“Well,” He puffed himself up satisfactorily. “You just hold on another moment.” He made his way to one of the higher counters, picking up a spare fork and sliding the object right through the food. The smoothness of the motion made the potato look even tastier and she found herself reaching up for her half when Walter came trotting back with it. She snatched it hungrily as he lowered it down to her and took a nibble from its rounded edge. It was just right. It wasn’t cold from sitting out too long, but it also wasn’t tongue scalding like the ones fresh from the oven. It was a good snack and her stomach enjoyed it. Walter took a bite out of his half, happily eating along with her.

“You’re pretty nice pipsqueak,” He told her. “Maybe a little of Ms. Sunblossom is rubbing off on you.”

“Pipsqueak is obsessed,” A voice needled at Pinkamena’s left ear. She could see it again. The awful bladed image of herself was grinning, its nose right up to the side of her head. Pinkamena’s ear twitched and she took another bite of her potato, chewing nervously, trying to ignore it.

“She wants nothing more than to be her hero,” it continued. “She’s fed sweets, so she makes them too.” Pinkamena didn’t respond to it, but looked up at Walter trying to siphon the terror from her eyes, attempting to wordlessly communicate her fear.

“Oh don’t worry,” He waved his hoof obliviously. “It’s not a bad thing. She’s gotten you to talk more. But I must say, picking a fellow like me to choose to be social with is an odd choice. I’m the weirdest pony you could have picked. Oo!” He seemed to get an idea and the fact that he didn’t react at all to the thing standing next to her made her quiver.

“Ms. Sunblossom wants you to talk to other fillies more. She said she couldn’t do it, but I’ll give it a shot. Hey!” He called to the one group of three colts that hadn’t left the mess hall yet. “You young ones there! Trot on over here, I’ve got a proposition for you.” The three’s eyes brightened and they all hopped from their stools and made their way over. What Walter was doing went right over Pinkamena’s head at the moment though. She took another bite, alone with her fear of the hissing breath at her side.

“Don’t they look so innocent?” The figure asked her. “Does it make you sick? Doesn’t their happiness inspire the most lovely and thoughtless apathy? What makes them so happy? Does that not merit thought? It’s what we need Pinkamena. See them? They’ll fall for anything. They don’t need that joy of theirs, no pony will consider them for it. But they’ll mean so much more if they die.” Its words were abrasive and unlike last time when Pinkamena felt as though its presence surrounded her, this time it felt like it was crawling around under her skin. She wiggled uncomfortably away from it as it giggled at her. The three fillies that Walter had called for presently trotted up, looking up at him in excited anticipation.

“Hey Walter,” One of them greeted the stallion. The voice gave her ears a tingle of familiarity. She had heard it before.

“What are you colts up to this evening?” Walter asked the trio.

“I dunno. Wanna play four square with us?”

“Haha!” Walter laughed. “Would if I could champ. But!” He emphasized. “I know somepony who might be willing to join you.”

“Who?” They all said in half unison, smiling.

“Why the little filly is right here,” He gestured to Pinkamena who was still half aware of their conversation as she tried to stave off the glare of her doppelganger that hung its presence over her like a rain cloud. She dropped her potato half. Suddenly the figure was behind her and she could feel its set of hooves clamping down on her throat. She tried to cough and she couldn’t. Her hind leg gave a sharp spasm. Everything tunneled in around her and all the chattering voices faded to a low rumbling sound. Her ears could no longer hear anything beyond the blood struggling to run through her own head. She tried to cry out but her vocal chords were stuck and her tongue wiggled uselessly in her mouth. Stamping her hind hooves in desperation was the only thing she had left to do. Pinkamena couldn’t even be sure it was working. She couldn’t hear them and it was like her surroundings were slowly being erased. Her eyes rolled back and-

“Uh,” Pinkamena suddenly felt a hoof on hers as a voice abruptly shot her back into consciousness. “What’re you doing?” It asked. She looked down. Her own hooves were the only ones at her throat and looking back up found Archer staring at her, concerned as he withdrew. Pinkamena placed her hooves back to the floor and glanced around skittishly. Even Walter looked confused and Pinkamena avoided any eye contact, picking the potato up from the floor and munching on it, nervously trying to pretend nothing had happened. Perhaps nothing did and she was just going crazy.

“I say,” Walter broke the silence. “What indeed were you doing Pinkamena. You had yourself turning blue there.”

“Um…” She took another bite, tearing the skin of the potato and slurping it up. “Nothing.” Something did happen, she knew it. All the faces around her gave it away even as she desperately tried using her chewing as an excuse to refuse answering their questions.

“Hey,” Archer started. “Sorry I upset you yesterday. You still wanna play with us? We only have three, so we need one more pony. It’s okay if you-”

“Okay,” Pinkamena cut him off. She wasn’t even sure what she was saying yes to. The situation had quickly become uncomfortable for her and if faster agreement was what it took to get her out of it, then that was what she would do.

“Wh-” Archer said, surprised. “Really?”

“Well,” Walter chimed in, gulping down the rest of what he was eating. “Look at that. That’s what I like to hear. You’re being too nice to me today filly.” He gave her a nudge. “Ms. Sunblossom hasn’t heard the last of this. Why, I have no choice but to brag!”

“Oo! Oo!” Archer fed off Walter’s excitement, buzzing his small wings enthusiastically. “You should tell her that Pinkamena even said that you were cooler than she was.”

“Ha!” Walter laughed and Pinkamena felt a strange urge to smile. It was odd, but his laughter seemed so genuine that it made her want to laugh along with him even if she didn’t get what he found so funny. There was a contagious joviality to it and it made her happy that he was happy. She didn’t show it though and continued nibbling on what was left of the potato.

“This kid’s full of great ideas!” Walter exclaimed. “But you know what would be even better?”

“What?” Archer’s eyes brightened. Walter lowered his head to Archer’s height and leaned in smirking at Archer as the filly eagerly awaited his advice.”

“If we actually got her to say so!” Walter told him “How about it filly?” Both of them turned their heads to her with hopeful smiles on their faces. Pinkamena stuffed what was left of her food into her mouth and chewed, glancing around the mess hall to avoid their staring.

“She’s eating,” Walter whispered to Archer after a moment. “We’ll wait.” The filly nodded and the two resumed their patient, expectant gaze. She chewed as slowly as she could, drawing out the process so they might give up on making her talk. It was no use. The more she fiddled with it the worse the potato started to taste and the more mushy and unsatisfying it became on her tongue. She finally swallowed and her mouth felt icky and dry. She stood silently while her head invisibly panicked, searching for something to say to them. She wanted it to be funny, maybe. Maybe she could make them laugh too. There was nothing. Yet, when she opened her mouth, presumably to say nothing, she let out a small, girly burp. She flinched, closing her mouth and looking away.

“Um…excuse me…” She said tapping her hoof.

“Close enough!” Walter shot back up. “Well it’s been fun fillies, but I must be getting back to work. You four run along now and have fun with your game. Especially you.” Walter winked at Pinkamena and turned back toward the kitchen. Pinkamena watched him go, but was soon prompted by a poking at her side. She turned to find Archer eagerly waiting for her to come along with them as his two other friends were already making their way out of the mess hall.

“C’mon,” He urged her. “I’ll show you where the court is.” She followed Archer sheepishly, taking light steps before another nearby conversation caught her ears.

“Did you know that?” A colt that was standing outside the hall, murmured to his friend. Pinkamena wasn’t too interested in gossip or rumors and the two ponies whispering outside of the mess hall reeked of it.

“No,” the colt’s friend responded. “Where did you hear that?”

“I was sneaking around yesterday afternoon,” The colt grinned and narrowed his eyes, trying too hard to get his one audience member enthralled in a tale that was far too simple to get wrapped up in. He need not even do so though. His friend was already intrigued, he was merely showing off. “And I heard some of the adults talking about it.”

“Wow,” his friend uttered in wonder. “I didn’t know Ms. Sunblossom had a daughter.” Pinkamena stopped, her legs jerking to a halt. She stood, face pointed at the floor, baffled and skeptic, listening to their voices.

“Had,” The colt stated, raising a hoof to indicate a correction as if he were old enough to recognize the significance of the past tense in his claim and didn’t want his friend to mistake his information.

“What do you mean?” His friend asked. “What happened to her?”

“No one knows,” The colt said excitedly like he was retelling a fantastic legend about a spirit that might still haunt the halls. “Apparently one day she was here and then she was gone. Apparently not even Ms. Sunblossom knows what happened…or…” He paused as if trying to build suspense. He may as well have asked for a drum roll.

“Or what?” His friend leaned in closer.

“Or she won’t tell anypony!” He grinned. The whole story was a bit of a joke to him and he had finally worked his way up to the punch line. But he was only being insensitive the way most children could be, tearing the wings off flies just because he was curious. Pinkamena didn’t hate him, only what he said. Could it be true? She couldn’t find it in herself to brush the words aside like every other piece of airy gossip she might hear. She felt her heart beat in her head. The filly wasn’t right, something told her, maybe it was instinct, her natural aversion to rumor. But he wasn’t wrong either. The colt was far too young to have made his story up all on his own. Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. But if Ms. Sunblossom did have a daughter, wouldn’t she have told Pinkamena? Maybe all she had to do was ask. She could trust her caretaker couldn’t she?

“Pinkamena?” A voice jolted her from her thought. She looked up and the two colts that she had been listening to were trotting away whispering and sharing their childish theories as they went. It was nothing more than a ghost story to them. She thought of following them for a moment, but a second pleading had her turning back to face Archer, who called to her a second time when she didn’t respond, trapped in her stunned daydream and staring off into her own head.

“Don’t you wanna play Pinakamena?” Archer asked when she finally managed to seize hold of her attention and turn to him.

“What…” She hesitated to speak. “What are we playing?”

“Four square!” he exclaimed as he gestured enthusiastically for her to follow. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“I…I got distracted.” Archer stopped. He lifted a hoof as if he meant to keep going, but then put it back and Pinkamena shuffled into a sitting position, watching him hesitate. He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Um…back there…were you…” He glanced to the floor and then back to her. “Were you choking yourself?” Pinkamena stood back up and sunk away from him. He knew, she scolded herself. Why did he have to know? The realization stung. But it confirmed her suspicion and probably worried her more than it did him. Archer watched as his question seemed to push her away and she didn’t answer him. How could she? Surely his question had to be rhetorical, meant only to see if she were willing to admit what she had done. She frowned internally. Was he that smart? Was she?

“Nevermind,” Archer dismissed with a smile, drawing back the enthusiasm Walter had given him. “Come on let’s play some four square.” Pinkamena continued following him wordlessly as he led the way. Perhaps he hadn’t heard that conversation just now. Did Archer know about Ms. Sunblossom? Continuously she asked him over and over, but only in her head, trying to play out and imagine what his reaction might be if he knew or then, worse, if he didn’t know. Ultimately, she was afraid such a question might scare him as it scared her. Pinkamena remained silent, unwilling to take the risk.

They came outside and around a bend. Archer’s two friends were already waiting for them, bouncing a sizable rubber ball against a square of pavement with hollow, airy clinks.

“Do want us to explain the rules?” Archer asked her as Pinkamena stepped tentatively into the court. For whatever reason, she shook her head. Archer didn’t seem to object and he didn’t press any further. Maybe he assumed she already knew. Four square was a popular game among the fillies and colts, but she had never played. She had no idea what the rules were, yet she stepped into her own section of the court as if it were only natural. Even though she knew nothing about the game, once the first colt asked if they were ready and they all nodded she played as though the game were a past time of hers. With every bounce of the ball and every switch this way and that, she flowed. Not once did she fumble with her reflexes like she normally did. Images flashed through her head and it was like she saw all of their moves before they made them. There was no way for them to surprise her and in turn she ended up surprising them. She won the first game and they were convinced this initial success was only beginner’s luck and that a second go would reveal their true skill now that they were all warmed up. Pinkamena agreed and it happened again. No matter what they did she could see the effect before the cause even occurred.

It was unreal. It also hurt. After so many games Pinkamena’s head began to ache and she thanked Celestia internally as the sun began to sink into the horizon. Archer was rather enamored with her performance, while his two friends became frustrated when they couldn’t win. She hadn’t even been trying all that hard either. The ball was easy to push away when she knew where it would be coming from. Yet something about it scared her. She didn’t know why she knew what they would do beforehand and if she had to describe the experience, the only way she could have put it would have been: forced. Every time the visions flashed through her head Pinkamena felt compelled to act on them. By the time Ms. Sunblossom called them inside and Archer’s friends begrudgingly called it quits, Pinkamena was weary of being pulled around by herself.

“Wow,” Archer praised her as they trotted back toward the building. “I didn’t know you were so good at four square Pinkamena!”

“I…I’m not,” She said without lying.

“But you won every game,” The colt assured her. “You have crazy reflexes!”

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom greeted her in a pleasantly surprised tone as she came to the door . “We’re you playing a game with these colts?”

“She sure was,” Archer told her. “She’s really good at four square. She won every game. None of us could beat her.”

“Is that so?” Ms. Sunblossom turned to Pinkamena.

“I…I guess,” She admitted timidly. Her victory still made her uneasy no matter how much praise she got for it. But now that Ms. Sunblossom was in front of her, something was different about her. She had always thought of the mare as a sort watchful guide to all the fillies she took care of, but now Pinkamena looked at a pony who might have been an actual mother. More than once, Pinkamena opened her mouth, only slightly, for no words to come out, unable to bring herself to ask the heavy question in the face of Ms. Sunblossom’s cheeriness. The words were swallowed with her spit and weighed down on her, even as Ms. Sunblossom praise pushed her up.

“That’s great,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled. “I’m glad you’re finally opening up to other ponies Pinkamena. It’s no wonder Walter wanted me to come fetch you. I’ll never hear the end of how a burp is apparently a full conversation.” Archer gave a giggle at this remark. It made Pinkmena smile a little, but mostly because Archer laughed.

“Heh,” The colt puffed himself up proudly. “I told him to say that.”

“Did you? Well I guess you also must have told him how pretty of a pony Pinkamena was. He said you two were adorable together.”

“Wh-” Archer blushed. “I didn’t say that,” he protested.

“That’s Walter for you,” Ms. Sunblossom laughed. In an almost uncontrolled hiccup, Pinkamena giggled along with her. It was a brief moment, but both Archer and Ms. Sunblossom heard her and the former looked at her in shock while the latter with pleased delight. Pinkamena couldn’t have explained what happened. It wasn’t that what Ms. Sunblossom had said had really been that funny nor that she was laughing at Archer’s awkwardness. She had simply found Ms. Sunblossom’s genuine laughter contagious somehow and had felt a near compulsion to share in the pleasure it gave her caretaker to join in the lightheartedness of children. Was there something wrong with her? She cut herself off immediately and sunk away from their expressions.

“Oh don’t stop,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her. “It’s wonderful to see you smile Pinkamena. Now I’d let you ponies play more, but it’s getting toward bedtime. Come on, inside.” Ms. Sunblossom shepherded the fillies into the building and Archer’s two friends scurried off down the halls without him. He shuffled in uncomfortably behind Pinkamena, embarrassed at the prospect of others knowing he admired her a little. He shifted inside past Ms. Sunblossom with his ears down as she shut the door behind them.

“Oh now Archy,” Ms. Sunblossom ruffled his mane. “Don’t look so sad. You know Walter only means well. He picks on me too you know.” She gave Archer a nudge and he perked up, a sense of wonder on his face.

“But you’re so nice.” He said, genuinely baffled at how a nice pony could ever be made fun of.

“Oh, he doesn’t mean any harm,” Ms. Sunblosson assured him. “It’s all in good taste.” She leaned in close, looking at Archer eye to eye with a sly encouraging smirk. “Maybe next time we can team up on him,” She whispered mischievously like a kid with an idea for a game. “I bet we could give him a good run.”

“You think?” Archer said brightly.

“You bet,” Ms. Sunblossom stood up straight and gave Archer a tap on the nose. “You’re spunky enough.” Archer laughed and Pinkamena felt the urge to laugh with him again, but reeled herself in as soon as she felt it. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself and the moment the two before her were sharing made her feel distanced from Ms. Sunblossom. So she backed away.

“Now,” Ms. Sunblossom concluded as she always did. “Your friends already ran ahead of you, so could you do me a favor Archy?” He nodded enthusiastically.

“Can you walk with Pinkamena?” She asked. “I know the sleeping room isn’t far, but make sure you go together okay?”

“Sure,” Archer agreed happily.

“Is that alright Pinkamena?” Pinkamena was jarred from her aloof position by the question and appeared flustered. She knew what she was being asked though and didn’t entirely mind. It was probably a good idea. It was Ms. Sunblossom after all.

“Okay,” She answered quietly with a nod.

“I’ll be there shortly,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled, this time more as a cordial gesture than a sweet one and trotted off to her business, leaving her with Archer. Pinkamena felt uncomfortable, out of place, and somehow silly. She wasn’t really old enough to like Archer in any way that wasn’t childish, but was still self-conscious enough to know she was with a boy, a boy no less that looked at her like she was some kind of star, a hero with a special power.

“C’mon,” Archer urged her to follow as he turned toward the halls. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, maybe she did. She wasn’t entirely sure. But it was his admiration that made her uneasy and Pinkamena followed hesitantly, positioning herself so she could use her mane to hide her face so he wouldn’t stare at it. He circled around her to talk anyway and she clicked along quickly to keep up with the colt’s happy trotting pace. It was almost dark now and the lanterns in the halls had been lit, giving them a yellowish glow to walk by, tinted a rusty orange by the wood that reflected it.

“So where’d you learn to play four square so well?” He asked her.

“I didn’t,” Pinkamena responded bluntly.

“What? But you’re so good at it.” She supposed she couldn’t really blame him for not believing her. She had won every game without so much as flinching. It was obvious for him to think she had played before, but even more obvious to her that she couldn’t explain what happened. She had just been reacting.

“I…I guess I’ve watched plenty of games,” She said as an excuse as if she could ever get a full grasp of any game just by watching.

“You mean nopony taught you how to play?” Archer asked. She shook her head using body language to answer him as much as she could. Her words just sounded clumsy right now.

“Wow,” Archer said almost to himself as he gazed dreamily ahead. “That’s amazing.” Was there anything she could have said that wouldn’t have merited the same reaction from him, she wondered? Perhaps if she told him she practiced religiously with all her free time by herself somehow, he might be less impressed. But then he might still admire her dedication. Pinkamena wasn’t sure if the fact that she found his praise slightly grating made her a bad pony somehow or if she was just so used to being aloof and ignored that the prospect of any kind of friend seemed frighteningly strange to her.

“My dad taught me how to play a while ago,” Archer told her. “And baseball too. That’s how I got my cutie mark.” Pinkmena gave the mark on the colt’s peachy colored fur a slightly envious glance. “Heh, there was this one time…” It was strange, Pinkamena thought. She had forgotten that Archer lived here too and realized that even as the colt spoke about his father, that figure was never to be part of his future. On that level, Pinkamena could at least relate to him a little. She found herself tempted to ask him what had happened to his mom and dad, but refrained considering what she might do if she were asked the same question. There weren’t very many good scenarios that separated fillies from their parents at such a young age. She could only hope that his experience was not as horrific as her own. The image of the fire was enough to frighten sleep away for the night and the mere thought of it being on her mind made her think that as soon as she closed her eyes that it would be there, waiting for her. Then, she would wake up alone again. Why did she always-

“Pinkamena?” She heard a voice. Looking up, she found nothing but a dark endless corridor in front of her. The lanterns down it weren’t lit and it looked as though it was ready to swallow her up, a gaping monstrosity that led into a familiar abyss. She panicked for a moment, but looking back, she found the hallway lit and Archer staring at her with a slightly tilted head and a confused face.

“Where are you going?” He asked. “The sleeping room is this way.” Pinkamena looked back to the darkened hall and immediately realized what she was doing. This was the same hall she had wandered down before. Even though it was overshadowed, she recognized its hollow depths and the way it veered off in a direction that nopony seemed to want to take.

“Right…” Pinkamena turned away and trotted back toward Archer who seemed as relieved as she did. Maybe he thought she might be going crazy for a moment. Maybe she was.

“Heh,” He laughed uneasily. “It’s a good thing Ms. Sunblossom had me go with you. You would’ve wandered off if I hadn’t been here.” He seemed pleased with his insight, but Pinkamena found too much truth in it to be amused. He was right. She would have wandered off, again.

“But isn’t that cool?” Taken off guard by the seemingly irrelevant follow-up question, Pinkamena could do nothing but agree, very generally. She nodded. A pang of guilt sunk in on her as they continued walking in an uneasy silence the rest of the way. She remembered he had been saying something before her mind had seized her and put her on auto-pilot as it dove into itself. She had no idea what Archer was asking her about.

They came to the door of the sleeping room and trotted in, finding several other fillies hoping about the dimly lit space, getting their last few minutes of play before they had to sleep. Archer stopped before turning to go to his bed as the colt’s beds were on the opposite side of the room from the girl’s.

“Hey,” Archer started. “If you feel up to it, do you wanna play baseball with us tomorrow?” He looked at her with an upturned expression that implied he didn’t expect much, but asking with the smallest bit of hope.

“O…Okay,” She answered tentatively. Archer’s eyes immediately lit up and he flapped his small wings gleefully.

“Really?” He asked in a happy need for clarification. Pinkamena nodded. She suddenly found herself in an awkward embrace as the colt propped himself up onto his hind legs to hug her. “You’re the best!”

“Thanks,” She said. She didn’t know why. She felt out of place with his fur against hers and his childish enthusiasm seemed to flutter around in the warmth that came from it. Staring over his shoulder, she looked at his wings. She wanted to touch them, just to remember what feathers felt like, but figured it would be strange to ask and was afraid it might remind her of her mom. Archer stepped back and scurried away toward his bed, climbing a wooden ladder up to the top bunk. He settled into the straw, picking up his blanket and looking back to her with a boyish grin. Pinkamena turned away and moved to her own bed, throwing herself into it and dragging the covers over her body in frustration. She hid under them, not just from Archer, but the whole room. All the fillies were still chatting and playing, but it still felt like they were all looking at her. She never knew how to act around others. Empathy wasn’t her strong suit. Remaining hidden under her covers, Pinkamena was a conflicted mix of happy and embarrassed. She might have fallen asleep where she was had a hoof not started prodded at her from outside her fabric bubble.

“Go away,” She said.

“Pinkamena why are you hiding under there?” Somepony asked. Pinkamena lifted the covers from her face.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena said. She suddenly realized she must have sounded really rude. “I-I’m sorry,” She apologized.

“You made it back,” Ms. Sunblossom said.

“Mhm,” Pinkamena affirmed. “What are you doing here?” It was a silly question. Ms. Sunblossom was always here to make sure all the fillies went to bed. She knew she meant to ask what Ms. Sunblossom was doing at her bedside in particular, but it came out wrong.

“I promised I’d tuck you in remember?” Ms. Sunblossom smiled. Pinkamena sat in a stupor for a few moments. She had completely forgotten. Her episode in getting lost already seemed like it happened a week ago. Not knowing what to say, she resorted to stretching up her front hooves from her bed and giving Ms. Sunblossom a hug.

“Thank you,” Pinkamena said.

“I appreciate it Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom returned the gesture with one hoof using it afterward to lower Pinkamena back to her bed and pull her blanket up to her chin.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena started.

“Yes?” Pinkamena stopped. She wanted to ask Ms. Sunblossom about her daughter. Could what those colts were talking about be true? She wanted to know, but now that she had the opportunity, she hesitated. She didn’t want to ruin the moment. It seemed like it would be a bad topic to bring up considering Pinkamena had never seen anyone who claimed to be the mare’s daughter.

“Nevermind,” She resigned.

“Are you sure?” Ms. Sunblossom asked.

“It was nothing,” Pinkamena assured her, laying her head back to the bed, the familiar crackle of straw already lulling her to sleep.

“Alright. Sweet dreams Pinkie,” Ms. Sunblossom leaned in and gave Pinkamena a kiss on the forehead. The name was one she had never heard anypony call her before. She felt a strange kind of affection flitter over her as Ms. Sunblossom turned away to check on the rest of the room. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt since before the fire. That was probably the last time she had been tucked in as well.

As the lights went out, all the fillies said goodnight and Pinkamena pulled the covers back over her head. It filled her with warmth, but a lingering fear clung to her. No matter how many fuzzy situations she was put through, she couldn’t shake the image of the figure that had spoken to her in Ms. Sunblossom’s room. As she tried to sleep it still haunted her and once, when she peeked from under her covers at the darkened sleep room, she was convinced she saw it, glaring gleamy eyed at her from a corner of the room ready to utter its callous speeches. She sunk back under her blanket and didn’t lift it again, drifting off under its warm cottony shield, hiding from feelings both good and bad.

PART 4: Commend Thee to Thy Dearest Friends

Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare's Precognition

Part 4: Commend Thee to Thy Dearest Friends

The lights were already on when Pinkamena finally dragged Ms. Sunblossom’s squirming body to the bottom of the steps. The normally cool space felt warmer than before. The air was sticky, ripe with the stench of Archer’s rotting remains, an adamant and aggressive smell that seeped its way into the nostrils whether one breathed it in or not. It hadn’t even been that long since she had been down here. Only hours it seemed, maybe it was less. Pinkamena lifted Ms. Sunblossom onto the table, tossing her up in a rigorous heave fueled by a rising bloodlust and the prospect of final success. She was almost there and she knew it, both of them did and each click of the table latches brought them closer. Ms. Sunblossom was bound and Pinkamena told herself there would be no going back after this. But that had been the case the moment she betrayed Archer. In her mind, her small existence had already been thwarted. This was just a show, a mockery to rub in her doppelganger’s victory. Satisfied with the restraints, it smirked, hopped down from the table, and walked toward the center of the room retrieving the knife that was stuck in the soil, brushing off the dirt that clung to it. It made a small puff of brown dust which the figure sliced through, testing the blade and tracing slashes in the contours of the fading haze.

Tossing the knife over her head, she caught it with her tail and giving it a deft spin, threw it like a dart. It struck in the side of the table. The figure smiled at it and then at her tail, flipping it about and brushing it in the dirt.

“Perhaps these adverse effects aren’t so bad,” It commented. It followed along the path the knife took back to the table and jumping back up, plucked it from its place, setting it beside Ms. Sunblossom and standing over her. Ms. Sunblossom had been shifting around, half conscious, but now managed to open her eyes as Pinkamena yanked the first aid kit from the mare’s mouth and took it to the end of the table, plopping it down and flicking the latch. She opened it, her face brightening upon seeing its contents, things meant for healing that could also do the reverse.

“Mmm,” Ms. Sunblossom gave a pained groan and her eyes fluttered heavily open. “Hm?” She was catching on much quicker than Archer had. “What?” She noticed the metal ring binding her left hoof and gave it a jerk. Turning her head to the other side, she tried the same, eventually escalating into the restrained tugging that Archer had tried. She couldn’t move and after trying several times her body flopped back to the table, hopelessly trapped.

“What is this?” She asked. Perhaps she thought she was alone; she hadn’t seen Pinkamena. “Where am I?”

“There’s some lovely stuff in here,” Pinkamena said. Ms. Sunblossom lifted her head suddenly aware of the other presence.

“Pinkamena?” She tugged at the bindings again. “Pinkamena what happened? Where’s Archer?”

“You know there are a lot of creative things you can do with tweezers,” Pinkamena responded, holding a shiny silver pair up to the lantern glow to see how the light danced off it.

“Pinkamena what’s going on?” Ms. Sunblossom asked, her panic beginning to fill her voice. “Why am I ur-” She jerked against the restraints. “Locked to a table?”

“Cause I put you there,” Pinkamena said flatly.

“What?”

“Oo there are even scissors in here,” Pinkamena smiled. “This is a genuine fun box you’ve brought along.”

“Pinkamena what are you doing?” Ms. Sunblossom wiggled vainly. “Where’s Archer?” Pinkamena sighed. It was the kind of exasperated breath that one used to signal annoyance and Pinkamena rolled her eyes and dropped down off the table, moving around to the side where the bucket was. With a disinterested grunt, she tucked herself under the rotting corpse, putting it on her back and launched it up. It landed on the table with a dull, lifeless thud like a gutted fish. Ms. Sunblossom shrieked, thrashing against the metal rings on her hooves, and rattling the screws that held them in place.

“What is this!?” She wouldn’t stop and Pinkamena became annoyed when she hopped back up on the table and had to steady herself against the earthquake Ms. Sunblossom was making. Pinkamena stepped forward cautiously and raising a hoof brought it to Ms. Sunblossom’s stomach and stomped. The effect was immediate, knocking the wind out of the mare and dissolving her squealing into pained gasps for air.

“You wanted to see Archer,” Pinkamena told her. “There he is.”

“Wh-What?” Ms. Sunblossom squeaked tears pooling in her eyes.

“You’ll be just like him soon,” Pinkamena straddled Ms. Sunblossom with her hind legs the same way she had done to Archer, reaching for the knife. “It’s a shame I’m in such a hurry or I might have the luxury of some of the toys you brought me.”

“Pinkamena what is this? What are you doing?”

“You know,” Pinkamena said. “Have you ever felt like nopony listens to what you say? With one stroke I can fix that. Just as the work of the great author is never appreciated until he fades into obscurity, so it can be with you too. The dead are closer to gods than the living can ever be; they have passed through the door into a realm of concept, deified and made into legends. They may be indifferent to you now, but when they find you’ve gone they’ll remember everything you ever said and if you were once a fool now you’ll be wise. They’ll take your words and live by them; they’ll suddenly come to the revelation that everything you said somehow pointed to your untimely departure and they’ll regret not seeing the signs. We could have saved her, they’ll say, if only I had listened. Poor Ms. Sunblossom. She was the greatest mother to the children that had none.” Pinkamena sneered, a crooked grin based in the smugness of the truth she heard in her own words across her face.

“Pinkamena what are you talking about?” Ms. Sunblossom gave one last pull before Pinkamena put a hoof to the mare’s chest, raising her knife and relishing in the sight of the metal in her peripherals.

“You’re just like Archer,” Pinkamena frowned. “Always asking empty questions. Die.” Pinkamena’s hoof swung down but jerked to a halt midway like Ms. Sunblossom had caught it on its way down. But Ms. Sunblossom hadn’t moved and Pinkamena’s hoof trembled, struggling to hold onto her knife as half the muscles in her front leg tried to grasp it and the other half tried desperately to let it go.

“Stop,” She squirmed.

“What are you doing!?” Pinkamena seemed to answer herself, her mood swapping from frightened to enraged in a single blinking frame. “We need more blood! Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“No…” The knife dropped from her hoof, grazing Ms. Sunblossom’s side but making nothing more than a small cut that relinquished only a drop of blood.

“There you see!” Pinkamena’s eyes lit up. The filly grabbed her struggling hoof with her other free one, willing its shaking to stop only to have to fight against both legs. “Th-that’s it.” She struggled to get out. “Line, circles, schemes, letters, and characters! These are those that Pinkamena most desires! Kill this pony and we can save a thousand! We’ll have the world in our hooves Pinkamena! Just us!” A sudden jerk and Pinkamena’s hoof stretched as far and as quickly as it could, shaking and recoiling wildly as it reached for the knife, insanity and fear flashing back and forth on her face, a clear image of a mad mare.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom interjected. “What’s happened to you? Who are you trying to stop?”

“Shut up!” She shouted back. “She won’t need you. She’ll be powerful! She’ll be able to choose who to save and how to save them! No more burning houses! Pinkamena will have the water to douse the blaze before it ignites!” In one swift swoop Pinkamena procured the knife, lifting it up and stabbing down with disregard. She heard the clunk of metal stabbing into wood. She missed and because her body is against itself, she doesn’t have the devoted strength to pull the blade from the woodwork. She kept trying, but her own muscles battled their counterparts, her mind sending conflicting signals, paralyzing her nerves.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” Pinkamena finally managed to give her caretaker a weepy eyed apologetic look. Ms. Sunblossom watched as panic jumped around in the filly’s eyes, but she concentrated her attention on the child, giving her whatever ears she needed to voice herself, whichever voice was really herself. “I’m sorry…” Pinkamena managed, but then the knife cracked from the table soaring up and then stopping, wobbly, and unable to finish the stroke.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her. “You can fight it this!”

“And why would you want her to!?” Pinkamena shouted back. “You’ve seen the horrors of the world! Let them go! You’ll never be anything to anyone if you live past this moment! They’ll forget you! You’ll fade away without meaning the way the ordinary life ends! But they’ll all remember Archer! The way he died, the friend he was never able to be, and above all his innocence! Sweet innocence! The only true form of wisdom! And don’t we all lose it? We grow up and become fools obsessed with the end! But I’ve promised us a future where death will die!”

“Stop!” Ms. Sunblossom pleaded with her. “I know who you are! ”

“So do I!” Pinkamena began inching the knife down, stabbing as if forced to comply with a slow motion effect. “Pinkamena! That’s who! The filly with the broken autonomy who tries only to live for others when it is herself she should serve!”

“Pinkamena I promise you-”

“Promise nothing!” Pinkamena cut her off. “Adults would break less hearts were they more careful with such words. You’ll kill yourself without my help if you start making promises again.”

“Please don’t hurt her,” Pinkamena begged to herself.

“Why?” She asked in reply. “It’s for the greater good. I’ve already told you her life is morally outweighed. Her death will let us save more than she is worth.”

“But she’s my…”

“Your what!? Sweetheart? I’d guess as much the way you cuddle so! What else? Your fake mother, a plastic replica to replace the one you lost? This mare is no mother!”

“She’s my friend.” The answer was proceed by a break of silence, Ms. Sunblossom watching helplessly on as the filly fought herself, wrestling with some isolated corner of her own mind.

“Then we’ll compromise!” The knife split the air and was proceeded this time with a crack, breaking of bone and flesh. Ms. Sunblossom screamed, bleeding and reduced to the same helpless writhing Archer experienced. The knife was plunged into Ms. Sunblossom’s left leg, blood pooling on the table as Pinkamena flipped forward, undoing the latch and darting away to the retrieve paper. Snatching the previously used parchment from her last spell, Pinkamena flipped the page making her way back quickly as Ms. Sunblossom tried vainly to move her unbound leg. Jumping back up, Pinkamena lifted the mare’s bleeding appendage, letting a steady trickle of red fall to the page with a heavy pitter patter, using her other hoof to spread it, trying in last resort to replicate the spell circle as quickly as she could. Ms. Sunblossom bit down when her leg was lifted, the banging of metal voicing her pain as she stifled herself, knowing her screaming wasn’t getting her anywhere. A tear slivered it way down her cheek and she stared at the ceiling, bearing the pain like a kid having a bad splinter removed from her hoof. The design that Pinkamena ended up making on the page was cursory at best, her hoof wavering, making the idea of a straight line or a perfect circle impossible.

“Haha!” Pinkamena laughed. “This is it!” The once artful pattern was replicated below her as an elementary scribble, the inspiration apparent but it didn’t do the original any justice. For her, it was enough. Anything that would get Pinkamena to her final goal, no matter the sacrifice, was good enough for her. The spell circle was like a rusty sword—flawed, but still capable, in one way or another, of its original purpose. She took it over to the other table, her caretaker twitching all the while with piteous sobs.

“Pinkie…” She sniffled, swallowing hard.

“She’s already gone!” Pinkamena pressed her hooves to the circle, not even bothering to set it down straight, letting the tears that were already there do what they needed to. They hit the paper and there was a deafening snap. Pinkamena tumbled away, shooting across the room and flopping against the wall like a rag doll. A few short pops of static jumped from hair to hair on her fur, hissing, and letting off strings of smoke as they singed the tips. Every bone in her body seemed stiff, yet Pinkamena stood up, slowly, no trembling, staring with round full eyes at her own hooves. She was lightheaded and everything seemed to spin around her, the taste of exhausted breaths in her mouth.

“M…Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena said, testing her ability to speak. She turned to her side, seeing her doppelganger standing there, a satisfied smile on its face.

“Pinkamena?” Ms. Sunblossom answered. The figure lost its gleeful expression, its gaze shooting to Pinkamena, amazed somehow at the fact that she had received a response.

“What?” It looked down at itself, as if its own body would show it what it apparently thought was wrong. “What is this? Did I not do what the ritual required!? Where is the power it promised?” Pinkamena didn’t even want to gloat to it. There was an inkling, something within her, that wanted her to tell it that she had told it so, that it had its warning and had refused to heed it. But she didn’t want to. She felt sorry for it, its sadness somehow resonating with her, the prospect of its failure all too familiar.

An imperfect mixture yields…

She couldn’t say it. Pinkamena darted away from it, running to Ms. Sunblossom finding herself in entire control of her own body.

“No!” It yelled after her. “I’m still here! The third cast is permanent!” Pinkamena ignored it, jumping up on the table, crawling over Ms. Sunblossom and tugging at the remaining metal loops that held the mare’s hooves in place.

“Pinkamena?” Ms. Sunblossom raised her head as the filly loosed the first restraint. “Are you alright?” Pinkamena didn’t answer, but finished freeing her caretaker before moving over to the knife still embedded in the mare’s leg.

“Does it hurt?” Pinkamena asked. A stupid question, but Pinkamena felt she should ask if for no other reason than to let Ms. Sunblossom know she was sane now.

“Yes…” Ms. Sunblossom nodded.

“I-I’ll do my best,” Pinkamena said and in a feat that seemed like something only a unicorn should have been able to do, Pinkamena drew the first aid kit toward her without using her hooves. Her tailing twirled like a whip, catching it by the handle, brining it over her head, and setting it next to Ms. Sunblossom. The spell circle certainly hadn’t done nothing. Something seemed different, but Pinkamena didn’t know what. Existence simply seemed more malleable, actions she would have once never thought of were now instinct.

“Ready?” Pinkamena had never told Ms. Sunblossom what she intended to do, but the mare seemed to understand what she needed to be ready for.

“Do it quickly,” Pinkamena was surprised, less at Ms. Sunblossom seeming prepared to have a knife drawn from her broken leg than the fact that she trusted her to do it. Yet, Ms. Sunblossom waited for the inevitable surge of pain that would come when the blade was extracted. Putting her mouth to the handle of the blade and placing her hooves firmly against Ms. Sunblossom’s leg, Pinkamena pulled back with what she could only imagine was more force than she had drove the blade in with. Ms. Sunblossom pursed her lip, her eyes snapping shut as she gripped the opened wound with her other hoof. Pinkamena nearly fell back as the knife came free, an artful trail of blood following along with it. Quickly putting it down, Pinkamena reach for a roll of bandages tucked in the corner of the first aid kit, Ms. Sunblossom’s muffled painful utterings behind the mare’s clenched teeth to motivate swiftness. She found Ms. Sunblossom’s wound gushing in a river down the mare’s leg when Pinkamena turned to unroll the gauze.

Pinkamena raised the bandages and Ms. Sunblossom reluctantly removed her hoof the wound, an imprint of red left as she took it away. Pinkamena spun the roll around Ms. Sunblossom’s leg and tightened it around the hole from the stab. The bandages quickly reddened, prompting Pinkamena to add more and cover more and more of Ms. Sun blossom’s leg. When she was finished, Pinkamena had used the majority of the bandages and most of Ms. Sunblossom’s left leg was covered in a clumsy, but functional cast of white cloth splotched red at the center.

“Thank you Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said, wiping her face with her other front leg. She was sitting up now on her hind legs, her wounded one tucked in close to her chest, disabled and shaky. Pinkamena backed away from her. This was as far as she went. Eased with the knowledge that her caretaker wasn’t going to die, at least not here, was the only consolation she allowed herself. She had every reason to believe Ms. Sunblossom would hate her now. Pinkamena had killed Archer, lied about it to further her own ends, and had taken the one mare who cared for her and struggled to stop herself from killing her as well. Pinkamena knew about the idea of a monster. Indiscriminate, vicious, a monster would kill for the fun of it, but it would never pick and choose. The fire that had taken her home was a monster. She was something else, something beyond it. She didn’t know what, but she knew Ms. Sunblossom would want nothing to do with a pony like her. What would they do to her? Pinkamena had no idea how murderers were dealt with in Equestria. Did it even have them? Was she the only one?

“Are you alright Pinkamena?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. Pinkamena looked back at her with faint astonishment. She had expected to be scolded, perhaps disowned, not asked about her well being. That wasn’t something monsters were concerned with nor was it something anypony cared about when dealing with them.

“No…” Pinkamena’s voice cracked. “I killed him Ms. Sunblossom. I killed Archer.”

“Shhh,” Ms. Sunblossom hushed her. “Come here.” The mare stretched out her good hoof, opening up for a hug. Pinkamena’s eyes flicked about Ms. Sunblossom’s face searching for some hint, even a twitch of hate or malice. There was none, only a soft smile and a pair of wavy hazel eyes.

“But, but look I-” Ms. Sunblossom shook her head at Pinkamena and repeated her inviting gesture. What was this? No matter how hard Pinkamena tried to get Ms. Sunblossom to see her guilt she wouldn’t look. It was right there. Every hair on her hoof was trying to point at it. What more evidence did the mare need than the mangled corpse of Archer, a filly who, for being the best friend he could have been, was repaid with slaughter.

“You don’t understand,” Pinkamena cried. “Look! LOOK!” She yelled, running to Ms. Sunblossom and hitting her, pounding on the mare’s chest. Yet as soon as Pinkamena was within reach, Ms. Sunblossom drew her in, pressing Pinkamena to her chest with her good leg and brushing the filly’s mane.

“I forgive you,” Ms. Sunblossom said.

“What?” Pinkamena froze. This had to be a lie. There wasn’t any possibility of being forgiven for what she had done. Couldn’t Ms. Sunblossom see that she was ready to deal with the consequences, that Pinkamena knew she had done wrong and, like any child, expected to be punished in equal weight for her wrongdoing? Or was the mare blind? Couldn’t she see it? She had to see it. Not even Ms. Sunblossom was this kind. There had to be something wrong.

“No…” Pinkamena gave up her squirming, crying into Ms. Sunblossom’s fur, but affirming, with any will she had left of her own, that she couldn’t be forgiven. “Don’t you see it?” Pinkamena swallowed. “He’s dead. I killed Archer. I almost killed you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“And I said I forgive you,” Ms. Sunblossom told her.

“No!” Pinkamena sputtered out the word. “You can’t. I don’t deserve it…”

“Shh, yes you do,” Ms. Sunblossom assured her. “You deserve it for everything this place has put you through. I should have known it was here and I didn’t search for it. I guess I’m also sorry Pinkamena. Can you forgive me?” Pinkamena wiped her eyes and looked up at Ms. Sunblossom.

“What do you mean?” Pinkamena asked.

“It’s not important,” Ms. Sunblossom closed her eyes.

“H-hey!” Pinkamena squeaked. “Of course I forgive you!” She didn’t know what she was forgiving Ms. Sunblossom for, but if Ms. Sunblossom was willing to forgive her for what she had done then there was nothing Pinkamena could hold against the mare. Ms. Sunblossom was flawless and Pinkamena was a rag.

“Good,” Ms. Sunblossom responded, tucking Pinkamena in closer with one last firm embrace and then backing out, looking down at the filly. “Now, everypony is probably worried about us. We shouldn’t stay here.” Pinkamena couldn’t disagree. Even if going upstairs meant facing everypony—all those who wouldn’t be as kind as Ms. Sunblossom—it was still preferable to being in what was now, essentially a tomb. It was filled with nothing but bad memories, bad feelings, and bad smells. She was more than happy to leave it behind. But when Pinkamena hopped down from the table, she watched Ms. Sunblossom scoot herself toward the edge in a sitting position, avoiding the use of her front legs. Ms. Sunblossom gazed wearily at the ground, gauging the depth of the drop as if it were ten feet or higher, something that might injure her if she didn’t land just right. It was probably true, but as if it were only natural, Pinkamena raised her tail and, flattening it down, bent it into a perfect platform for Ms. Sunblossom use to step down. The mare eyed it curiously for a moment, but Pinkamena gestured for her to use it as a stepping stone, nothing abnormal.

Ms. Sunblossom said nothing, but stretching out one her hind legs, tested the stability of Pinkamena’s tail laying the flat of her hoof on it and then steadily applying pressure until she was pressing down on it with as much weight as she might use to descend a normal flight of stairs. Pinkamena didn’t feel any of the weight. It was as if her tail had literally become a platform for no other reason than she wanted it to be that way for the moment. It suited the situation and it was so.

“How are you…” Ms. Sunblossom stopped as Pinkamena shrugged.

“It just felt normal…” Pinkamena paused. “I guess…” She knew Ms. Sunblossom thought it was strange, but better this than letting the mare try to jump down and risk falling on an injured leg. Ms. Sunblossom stepped down, standing on two hooves, upright until she reached the soil after which Pinkamena offered her tail once again as a support for Ms. Sunblossom’s leg. Keeping her wound tucked to her chest, Ms. Sunblossom placed it to Pinkamena’s tail, using it as a sort of crutch. Ms. Sunblossom hobbled alongside Pinkamena as they made their way to the exit, balanced on the filly’s cartoonily distorted tail. Yet for how odd it was, it served it purpose. They made their way to the exit, climbing the steps and leaving the dungeon behind them silent and abandoned. Pinkamena hoped she would never see the room again and as they reached the top of the stairs, something in her tail told her Ms. Sunblossom felt the same way.

They flipped the floorboard door open to a flood of welcoming sunlight and much to the bafflement of two royal Canterlot guards accompanied by the unicorn Chester. The group stared at them like they were supposed to be dead, but were stepping out of their grave. Chester particularly, being a pony who was probably more familiar with the building, was stunned by their appearance, staring not so much at Pinkamena and Ms. Sunblossom as the floorboard.

“What in Equestria?” He nearly swore. The two guards, seeing Ms. Sunblossom’s leg, and lacking the faith that Ms. Sunblossom had in its support, rushed forward to help her, one taking her injured leg in his own, examining the wound. In the course of her trek up the stairs, the splotch of red on the bandages had expanded again and as Ms. Sunblossom’s leg was taken away from Pinkamena’s tail, the filly’s whole body wilted, her tail and ears drooping as she lowered her head, backing away and trying to hide from sight, everypony’s gaze fixed on her caretaker. She knew this was her fault and she didn’t want them to see her.

“She needs a doctor,” One of the guards said. It was apparent that the wound was still bleeding. Earnest desire alone wasn’t going to save Ms. Sunblossom; there was nothing else Pinkamena could do at this point.

“Emese,” Chester came forward. “What happened? Where’s Archer? We heard somepony down here yell and came as quickly as we could.”

“He’s…” Ms. Sunblossom stopped herself, giving the gaurds enough time to lift her up onto one of their backs so she didn’t have to walk and swallowing back any tears she might have still had to shed about Archer’s fate for the moment.

“You’ll find him down there,” Ms. Sunblossom said matter of factly. “You’ll want…a…” She wiped her face, trying to force the phrase out without breaking down. “A bag…” It sounded heartless, but what else were they to do with a mangled corpse; no one was going to want to touch it. Ms. Sunblossom was simply telling him, in a way, to prepare himself. Yet as she said the word her lips trembled, self-aware of the distance she gave to the suggestion, treating one of her own children, dead or not, as an object.

“A bag?” Chester tilted his head. It took a few moments for the implications of Ms. Sunblossom’s words to dawn on him.

“Celestia…” He breathed. “Is he dead?” Ms. Sunblossom nodded and let her head fall under the guard’s wing to hide her face.

“Did he do this to you?” Chester asked. It was clear he was angry and Pinkamena feared that before long the unicorn’s anger would be directed at her, a clear desire for some kind of retribution in his eyes. Yet if he really though that Archer was the one that had stabbed Ms. Sunblossom, what vengeance was there to be had?

“No,” Ms. Sunblossom lifted her head. “Archer was innocent. He did nothing wrong.”

“Then who?” Chester persisted. It made Pinkamena uncomfortable. The unicorn seemed bent on knowing the guilty.

“Just like a judge,” Pinkamena flinched, but held her place, turning slowly to see the figure back once again. Was it still not done? “Always searching for a place to put the blame. He has nothing to blame but his own complacency.” Pinkamena turned away from it, fixing her eyes on the scene before her, trying her best to put it out of mind. Yet its presence wasn’t nearly as domineering as before, nor did it carry on in trying to seize her attention after making its comment. It sat where it was, looking on with a derisive and cynical gaze.

“Sir,” the guard interrupted, addressing Chester. “This can wait. She needs medical attention.”

“But-” Chester stopped. He seemed to realize what he was doing and backed away from Ms. Sunblossom who he had been closing in on as if trying to interrogate her. “Right…” He gave an apologetic bow and the guard nodded, moving to the door. Just as he turned the corner another guard accompanied by Walter passed them and Walter did a double take, seeing Ms. Sunblossom being hastily carried off with a bleeding leg.

“Emese?” He let out as she passed by.

“Later Walter,” she said and then called after him as the guard moved swiftly down the hall with her, “Keep an eye on Pinkamena.” He stood for a moment outside the room, baffled, as the guard he was with entered. Wasn’t that what he was supposed to be doing anyway, he thought? He walked into the room to find Chester and the two guards, but no sign of the filly that Ms. Sunblossom had asked him twice now to watch. The guard that had accompanied him, made his way over to the one already in the room, asking something Walter didn’t pay attention to. The other guard leaned in and whispered something lengthy into the other’s ear. After a moment, the first guard’s ears drooped and his head turned to the open floorboard that led underneath them. He turned back to his comrade, who only nodded to affirm whatever he had said and the first guard turned, heading back past Walter and out of the room with a heavy look on his face. The other moved and stood firmly next to the open trapdoor and waited.

Walter’s head scanned in all directions, saying nothing until he finally looked to his left, finding the filly he was looking for tucked frightfully away in the corner of the room, hovering next to the hole in the floor.

“Pinkamena,” He said and her head snapped to him, paying attention to anything else than what was at her side. “What in Equestria happened? Why did you run off like that?”

“I…” Pinkamena shifted uncomfortably. “I did something terrible…” She murmured.

“What are you talking about?” Walter took a step toward her, but stopped when Pinkamena sunk away and curled up as if he were going to strike her.

“It’s my fault…” She said. “I hurt Ms. Sunblossom.”

“Hey,” Walter said, lowering himself so he could look at her at eye level. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Emese is a hardy mare. Do you wanna tell me what happened?” Pinkamena shook her head.

“Just watch,” She told him. “Just watch…”

“Watch what?” Walter asked. Pinkamena didn’t answer. She knew what was going to happen. The Pegasus guards would eventually venture down into the basement below and inevitably come up with Archer’s body. The pinching in her knees told her so; it was her only explanation for knowing. But whether out of some unnatural inclination or mere intuition, she knew it was going to happen. They would take the back way out as well. Nopony wanted to carry a dead body past groups of children, especially a body that used to be their friend. How would Archer’s friends react when they found out, Pinkamena wondered? It was something she hadn’t considered until now. She had broken the lives of more than just the two ponies she had hurt directly.

To Pinkamena’s surprise, Walter waited with her and before long a guard did come back, bearing a flat wooden plank with a sheet on it across his back. Taking one glance at the entrance to the basement, the already present guard shook his head and his companion put the objects down and the two moved to descend the stairs without it. Chester trotted quickly across the room to follow them, but after seeing him, the first guard stopped halfway into the entrance, looking back at him and shaking his head.

“I want to know what happened,” Chester said. The two guards looked at each other uneasily, knowing only in words what was below and still hesitant to allow the unicorn to follow. But, whether out of blind determination or stubbornness, Chester persisted and the two could do nothing but shrug at each other and let the unicorn accompany them at his own risk. They descended, the staircase almost too narrow for them, but Pinkamena assumed they managed. One, because they didn’t come immediately back up and two, because after a short interval she could hear Chester yelp in disgust and horror. Walter stood up at the sound, but managed to stop his curiosity from getting the better of him and waited patiently for the guards to return. Chester was the first to resurface, regret on his face as he levitated a book in front of him, helping with what he could and glad to leave the sight of the body behind. Pinkamena recognized the book as the large tome that contained the spells she had used and all the notes written by somepony before her.

“What happened down there Chester?” Walter asked as the unicorn resurfaced.

“It’ll be better if you don’t look,” Chester replied. “But…apparently that body is Archer’s.”

“Archer’s?” There was a hint of foreboding in Walter’s voice, but Chester didn’t need to reply. The first of the guards came up, bearing a number of the other books that had been on the shelves and setting them down and turning to Pinkamena and Walter, looking as if to warn them or let them know what was coming up the stairs next. Pinkamena was fine. Her eyes had gone numb to the sight. She knew what she was going to see and she knew that she was the one that had done it. Instead, she watched Walter if, for nothing else, to see how he would react. How harshly would he judge her?

The guard emerged from the corridor with the lump of flesh balanced uncomfortably on his back. He was visibly perturbed by what he was doing and without hesitation, let the corpse fall from his back onto the wooden plank they had brought along with them. Chester nearly cried out again at the horrible, mooshy flop that it made when it hit the wood, but Walter didn’t make a sound. The stallion grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and lowered his head. Pinkamena might have liked him to scream at the body like Chester had. Such a reaction was only outward and shallow. Walter’s reaction however implied actual internal pain. It was an inner wince, showing he wasn’t just sickened by how mangled and rottingly bloody the corpse was, but felt the remorse of knowing that the body used to be a filly he knew. Being told the colt was dead was nothing like seeing his actual corpse. It was a damning finalization, something the mind couldn’t pretend didn’t happen. Walter couldn’t dismiss the words of Ms. Sunblossom’s or his coworkers when they said Archer was dead now and go on pretending Archer had simply gone away, perhaps even been adopted. Here was the body, proof. Archer wasn’t going anywhere.

The two guards took the sheet and pulled it over the body and for once, Pinkamena thought, it looked like an actual pony could be under the sheet. The guards lifted the plank, a precursor to a funeral pyre, and looked to Walter.

“Ahem,” One cleared his throat. “Is there perhaps a back way we could take this?” Walter looked up, his mind clouded with thought, unable to concentrate.

“You understand,” the second guard filled in. “We don’t want to take this past the fillies.” Walter certainly understood, but he didn’t show it. His mouth opened, but nothing came out as he struggled to remember the layout of the building he spent most of his time in.

“Right,” Chester spoke up. “There’s one this way. I’ll show you.” The unicorn was more than happy to assist with getting rid of the body and probably would have suggested the alternate route to the guards had they not done so themselves.

“Ah,” Walter agreed, halfheartedly. “Right… follow him. I’ll take care of her.” He gestured to Pinkamena who was still huddled in the corner. The guards nodded back, but looked to Pinkamena as though it were the first they had seen of her. Perhaps they had simply forgotten she was there.

They followed Chester to the back of the room and he opened a door that led away. Wherever it went, Pinkamena had never been there before and she had no interest in following them.

“Come on,” Walter said, turning to her. “Let’s get you out of here.” He picked her up and put her on his back. Pinkamena would have followed him, but wasn’t in any mood to object to this. She hung low on his back as he left the room behind. He didn’t say anything as he walked through the halls. Perhaps he knew he wouldn’t get answers from her or maybe he knew she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Ms. Sunblossom’s forgiveness seemed like enough; the event needed to be buried now just like the body. Pinkamena didn’t want the words of the figure to be true. She didn’t want Archer to be remembered because he died. But wasn’t that what everpony was going to remember, his death? She would certainly never forget it and right now, it wouldn’t stay out of her head. She wanted to find Ms. Sunblossom, make sure she was okay. It seemed like that was what Walter was trying to do as well, but couldn’t find where she had gone.

Pinkamena watched as they passed the door to the sleeping room and again minutes later as Walter searched along every hallway, repeating certain routes in his distracted state. This was the first time Pinkamena had seen Walter at all distressed or in any mood that could have been considered negative. Was this how he dealt with problems? Silence? It wasn’t really brooding, but Walter had a seriousness about him that so contrasted his normal demeanor that he didn’t seem like the same pony anymore. Walter was the kind of stallion that needed to do something when he was upset. Any kind of movement would do and with Pinkamena along for the ride, pacing was what he seemed to have chosen. To her, it felt like the better part of an hour before they stumbled across Ms. Sunblossom coming out of a side room, aided by another pony, a white pelted mare with a pink mane tied into a bun on the back of her head. Her cutie mark was a red cross, hearts that looked like flower petals stemming out from the corners where the two red lines intersected. She had Ms. Sunblossom’s leg sewn up and freshly bound in clean bandages and eased the mare out of the room using a small cart with wheels to support the injured leg.

“There you go,” the nurse said, her voice sweet but not condescending. “Hopefully you won’t have to get used to it.”

“Emese?” Walter said as he approached. She turned her head, looking at him with an expression that said not to worry, her eyebrows upturned to stave off any pity he might feel for her.

“Hi Walter,” Ms. Sunblossom glanced at Pinkamena.

“What happened?”

“Well,” Ms. Sunblossom started. “My leg is broken.”

“Look,” Walter said. “I’m sorry I let Pinkamena get away from me. One second she was sitting there and then she-”

“It’s alright Walter,” Ms. Sunblossom wheeled forward and put her good leg around Walter, her head over his shoulder. “Things probably worked out…as good as possible.” Ms. Sunblossom looked at Pinkamena as she talked, and Pinkamena felt a strange sense of solitary inclusion. And perhaps Ms. Sunblossom was right. As broken as Pinkamena had made everything, maybe what they had before them was the best possible outcome. There was no way for her to tell if it was, but even in the best outcome, Archer was still dead and Ms. Sunblossom had a broken leg. The possibility that she could have just as easily killed Ms. Sunblossom crossed Pinkamena’s mind only for a moment before she banished it. She didn’t want to think about it. It was easy to imagine what might have happened if there had been no one to forgive her when the dust settled.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Walter said as Ms. Sunblossom let him go and took a step back.

“It’s been a rough morning Walter,” She said. “I still have things I need to-”

“I think you should adopt Pinkamena,” Walter cut her short. The two were silent, the only other sound was the nurse in the room to their right, rummaging through her things, the crisp wisps of zippers being done and undone. Pinkamena lifted her head, perhaps just as taken off guard by the suggestion as Ms. Sunblossom was, her mouth hanging open without any words to show for it. She took one glance at Pinkamena and, looking back to Walter, her jaw trembled. She bit down on her lip and lowered her head, taking in a large shaky breath and wiping her face.

“I…Can I talk to you Walter?” She said, bringing her head back up. “There are things you should probably know.”

“Alright,” The nurse stepped out the room she was in, interrupting their conversation as she zipped up the last pocket on her saddlebags. “Well, give it plenty of rest Ms. Sunblossom and that leg should be better before you know it.”

“Right…” Ms. Sunblossom looked away from Walter.

“You don’t work here…do you?” Walter asked, eyeing the mare with half curiosity and half suspicion.

“Oh no,” The nurse responded. “I’m here with the Pie family. I was in Baltimare for a study trip and they offered to take me back to Ponyville. You know, they’ve been looking into adopting a filly for a while now apparently. I‘ve been watching their daughters while they’re here.”

“I know…” Ms. Sunblossom responded. “Can I ask you one last favor Ms. Redheart?”

“Hm?” The nurse turned to Ms. Sunblossom. “What’s that?”

“Could you take Pinkamena and introduce her to Marble and Limestone?” Ms. Sunblossom gestured to the filly on Walter’s back. “Walter and I need to talk.”

“Oh…” The nurse appeared confused by the demand, but at least willing to comply. “Alright. Any particular reason?”

“A head start,” Ms. Sunblossom replied. “Come on Pinkamena.” Slowly, Pinkamena stood up, balancing herself and dropping from Walter’s back, standing hesitantly. She looked at Ms. Sunblossom and then at the nurse, one familiar and one a stranger, kind at least in appearance, but unknown. Pinkamena also had no idea who Marble or Limestone was or why she needed to be introduced to them.

“Don’t worry Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom assured her. “She’s nice and we shouldn’t be long.” Pinkamena glanced between the two again, but Ms. Sunblossom turned and began moving herself away, scooting clumsily, unaccustomed to not lifting one her legs while walking. Walter followed, looking back at Pinkamena with lowered ears. Ms. Sunblossom didn’t look back.

“Hey,” The nurse said, her tone more in line with getting the attention of a small cat. “This way.” She waved a hoof. “I’m sure Marble and Limestone wouldn’t mind a new playmate for awhile.” Pinkamena followed, watching Walter and Ms. Sunblossom fade around a corner. She trotted alongside the nurse with her head down, no intention of saying anything unprompted, but the nurse was determined to be friendly. Pinkamena couldn’t hold anything against her. The nurse was simply addressing her as she might address any other child. There was no way for her to know that this one had killed her own friend and was numb to niceties.

“Your name’s Pinkamena huh?” The nurse asked. Pinkamena nodded. “I’m Redheart. Seems like it’s been quite the day around here. You hanging in there?”

“No…” Pinkamena didn’t look up, but Redheart had been smiling down at her as they walked, but frowned at the filly’s one word, listless response.

“Oh…Are you alright?”

“I’m sad.” It was the only word Pinkamena could think of to describe her mood. There wasn’t much else to say. Sad was simply how it was.

“You’ll cheer up. I’m sure you’ll like Marble and Limestone. They’re a rambunctious couple of twins.” Pinkamena wasn’t as sure and didn’t say anything more as they walked. They came to the front room with all its toys and space, a crowd of other fillies playing board games among other things. The nurse approached a pair of gray pelted fillies near the corner of the room, wrestling and tugging on each other’s ears with their mouths. They certainly weren’t identical twins. One filly’s coat was darker and closer to a navy than the other’s and the darker colored one’s mane a similar gray to her sister’s pelt, the lighter pelted one with a mane that was simply a darker hue of her fur. Their mane styles were remarkably similar to Pinkamena’s, but she didn’t take it to mean much.

“Girls, what are you doing?” Redheart asked as she stumbled upon the two fillies rolling over each other. They looked up and immediately parted, acting like they had done something wrong. The lighter pelted one puffed her cheeks indignantly, pointing at her sister.

“Marble ate the sapphire,” She said as if she had been the one that had wanted it for no other reason than to do the same.

“She…what?” Pinkamena could see the nurse panic slightly. It was the kind of knowledge that would concern her type, knowing that a gem couldn’t possibly be good for a pony to swallow.

“I didn’t mean to,” Marble objected. “You wanted to see how high I could shoot it.”

“Honey…” Redheart said slowly, looking at Marble eye to eye. “Did you really swallow it?”

“It wasn’t very big,” Marble told her. “Besides, Maud’s eaten pebbles before. She’s been fine.”

“Um…Well,” Redheart flustered, changing the subject. “This is Pinkamena”

“Ohhh,” Limestone seemed to recognize her. “You’re one of the fillies Dad was looking at. He had all those papers with your name on them. Look Marble.” She said so as if her sister weren’t already looking at the pony to which they had just been introduced

“Yeah,” Marble nodded, and as she continued she altered her tone, her voice deepening artificially as if she were trying to imitate someone. “I like her. She wears her mane properly and she looks serious enough.”

“That’s not what Dad sounds like,” Limestone complained, shaking her head.

“It’s what he said,” Marble jeered back.

“Girls,” Redheart interjected. “Maybe you should play a game. Here this one looks fun.” the nurse took something from one of the nearby benches and sat it down in between Marble and Limestone whose eyes both followed it in its decent and after seeing it meet the floor, looked to each other and immediately seemed to issue a challenge. The game bore the name ‘Trouble’ and it might have been a poor choice on the nurse’s part, but she was simply trying to occupy the attention of two children that weren’t her own. There was no way she could understand their taste or their strange competitiveness, but they settled down on opposite ends of it, organizing the little plastic pieces and putting them in their places.

“Would you like to join them Pinkamena?” Redheart asked. Marble and Limestone turned their heads to Pinkamena. It hadn’t occurred to them to ask. To them the game that had been placed before them was a challenge strictly between sisters. But upon remembering she was there, they waited for her to respond.

“Okay…” Pinkamena agreed quietly.

“Wow,” Marble whispered to her sister. “She’s a lot like Maud.”

“Good,” Redheart said contently, nodding with a smile. “It’ll pass the time.” Pinkamena settled on her own end of the board and Limestone reached forward, seizing the privilege of getting the first turn.

“Hmph,” Marble seemed upset, but didn’t object as Limestone pressed down the small plastic dome in the center of the board, giving the die inside a roll with a distinct, tinny pop. She rolled a four and lowered her head into her front hooves, staring contemptuously at her sister as Marble stuck her tongue out at her sisters failure to start moving any pieces. Marble went next and giving the plastic hemisphere a push, popped up a six.

“Ha,” Marble moved a piece from the staring point and then looked to Pinkamena. Pinkamena followed their actions and rolled a two. She had played the game before, so she knew what to do, but Marble and Limestone were playing to beat each other, not her. She was simply here to be a placeholder, waiting for Ms. Sunblossom to come back from her conversation that Pinkamena wasn’t allowed to hear. She could only wonder what Ms. Sunblossom and Walter were talking about, but the expressions on both of their faces had suggested that it was serious. Maybe they were talking about her. Ms. Sunblossom’s reaction in particular when Walter told her that she should adopt her, made Pinkamena nervous. Could Ms. Sunblossom actually adopt her? What if she couldn’t? Was that what made her sad? Pinkamena would have wanted nothing more than what Walter had suggested. It seemed right. Ms. Sunblossom was the closest thing Pinkamena had to a mother and the mare treated her like a daughter, so it seemed natural enough.

“It’s your turn,” Marble said. Pinkamena looked up and found both of the Pie twins looking at her, waiting.

“Oh…” Pinkamena reached forward again and gave the die another roll. Three. Pinkamena put her hoof back and waited again.

“She is a lot like Maud,” Limestone agreed. “ She’s practically a Pie. Pinkamena Pie…Hmmm that sounds weird. Hey what’s your favorite color?”

“Um… Pink.” Pinkamena didn’t really know what color she considered her favorite. She simply chose pink because her fur was pink. So was her mane. What other color could she choose?

“Hmmm,” Marble rubbed her chin with her hoof, looking up to exaggerate the amount of thought she was doing. “Ours is ‘gray’” the two twins said gray at the same time and then narrowed their eyes at each other, angry that neither had beaten the other to the punch.

“What’s your favorite rock?” Limestone asked, turning back to Pinkamena. She didn’t know. Pinkamena had never taken the time to think what rock would be her favorite or that there even were different types of rocks. Weren’t rocks just rocks?

“Um…” Pinkamena’s mind ended up without an answer. “I don’t know,” She said. They didn’t seem disappointed. The question was more of a chance for them to tell her what their favorites were, perhaps because they thought it made them look smart or knowledgeable about something. Pinkamena got the sense that they wanted her to like them, but she wasn’t sure why. She would probably never see them again. After all, they weren’t orphans.

“Mine’s sapphires,” Marble said.

“She even eats them,” Limestone chimed in.

“Not on purpose,” Marble persisted. “Besides you just like boring old quartz.”

“Hey, Mom’s name is Quartz.”

“Pshh,” Marble rolled her eyes. “It’s your turn.” Limestone gave another roll and got a six, the second to get her first piece onto the board. The game went on like this for awhile, Marble and Limestone staring each other down with rather blank expressions while Pinkamena didn’t get a piece onto the board until the fourth rotation and the twins were already getting their first piece close to home with another already starting its way around the circle. They never finished because Marble had found a strange method of pressing the popper in the center down and making the die pop up and land right back on whatever number it had started on. It wasn’t a problem until she used it to roll a six right after Limestone. Then, her sister complained and the two ditched the game and staring wrestling again. Pinkamena watched them roll around for a few moments, pulling each other’s tails and ears, before she looked up to Redheart.

The nurse had sat down above them on a bench, had donned a pair of reading glasses, and was flipping through the pages of a book heavy with text. She was rather engrossed in it and didn’t notice Marble and Limestone trying to settle their game argument with a contest on who would be the first to call it quits on account of having sore ears. Pinkamena shifted away as the twins rolled over the game board and dislodged a few of the playing pegs, their hollow plastic clinks finally causing Redheart to look up from what she was reading.

“Wh-” She saw the scene and took off her glasses, looking at the twins sternly. “Girls.” They stopped, but didn’t look like they were sorry for what they were doing this time.

“What’s your favorite color Ms. Redheart?” Marble asked diverting the subject. “Is it red?”

“It’s actually green,” She replied. The twins tilted their heads. “It’s such a calming color. It’s the color of plants too, I like that.” They seemed displeased with her response, but perhaps only because their assumption had been wrong and Redheart’s reasoning was sound. Pinkamena was indifferent.

But the nurse presently closed her book and took notice of a stallion entering the room behind them. Pinkamena was the first to turn and look, following the nurse’s gaze as she look over her. She knew who the nurse was looking at only because her eyes caught sight of the one unfamiliar pony in the room. The other fillies seemed to gravitate away from him as he approached and he wore an expression so stern that it betrayed nothing it terms of mood. He looked perpetually sour, something children stayed away from. He was an imposing presence, a brown pelted stallion with a gray mane, sideburns stretching past his ears all the way to his jaw. An old, black clerical hat rested atop his head and a formal collar and tie about his neck. His cutie mark was a pickaxe.

“Igneous,” Redheart greeted him with a breath of relief. “Your daughters sure are unique. But I think one of them might have eaten a stone while I had to attend to somepony who was injured.”

Igneous looked down to Marble and Limestone, the latter pointing to her sister who batted her hoof away, both of them maintaining eye contact with their father. He didn’t say anything and his eyes moved away wordlessly, remaining stern. The twins seemed to have adopted his emotionless expression, losing the rambunctiousness they had before.

“I apologize,” Redheart continued. “I left them with the other fillies, but they weren’t unsupervised. I figured I should lend my skills since the need arose. I was only helping.”

“It’s fine,” Igneous said. His voice was just as bleak, fatherly and distanced.

“Well, how’d it go?” Redheart put her book back in her bag and zipping it up, stepped down from her seat on the bench.

“This is an odd nursery,” Igneous replied. “Me and my wife came here to look for fillies and they’ve asked me to carve a tomb.”

“Oh…” Redheart looked concerned and Pinkamena lowered her ears. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I don’t mind,” Igneous said. “But we’ll be staying here for the night.”

“Oh alright.” the nurse nodded and flipped her saddlebags over her back.

“Come on girls,” Igneous addressed Marble and Limestone.

“Yay carving,” Marble said monotonously. Pinkamena couldn’t tell if the two were actually excited or if carving was their version of a chore. Yet as they went to leave, Igneous’ gaze caught sight of Pinkamena. His eyes stopped on her for a moment and with the subtlest movement, the stallion seemed to nod in approval. Her expression was much like his: vacant. His eyes moved away and he continued walking. Pinkamena watched them exit the room and just as they turned into the hall, she caught sight of Walter as he passed by them. Pinkamena took off into a short gallop after him, her steps short and quick. Redheart moved to follow as she saw the filly take off, seemingly unprompted.

“Hey,” the nurse called after her. “Don’t go running off and-” She stopped. By the time she was in the hall Pinkamena was facing Walter. The stallion had been pacing and stopped when he saw Pinkamena.

“Oh,” Redheart smiled. “Are you and Ms. Sunblossom done talking?”

“For now I suppose,” Walter answered. “I’ll take her from here nurse. Thank you for your help.”

“Oh it was nothing,” She seemed rather flattered by the compliment, raising a hoof and fluffing the bun of hair on the back of her head, glancing away as her tail brushed back and forth against the floor behind her. “Fillies are fun to spend time with.” Walter only nodded to confirm her sentiment. When she received no response, Redheart put her hoof down and her body language stopped.

“Well I guess I’ll let you do your job,” The nurse walked away, glancing back once before trotting off in the direction Igneous had taken his daughters. Walter and Pinkamena stood facing each other in the hall, silent for several moments. Pinkamena didn’t know what to say or even ask. She simply wanted to see Ms. Sunblossom and know what she had said to him, about her adoption, about what she had done, or about Archer. Pinkamena walked up to Walter with every question to ask and no words to ask them with. She stood quietly, unable to voice herself and waited for him to start.

“I’m an idiot Pinkamena,” Walter said at length. Pinkamena tilted her head, putting her hoof to his leg as if to tell him it wasn’t true.

“I hurt her feelings,” He continued. “I had no idea what happened and I assumed too much.” Was Walter confessing to her or the wall? His eyes seemed unfocussed, lost in thought. “I’m sorry Pinkamena.” He looked to her and Pinkamena felt his gaze like an impact. He was apologizing to her in serious earnestness. But why? He had done nothing wrong. This was her fault.

“I forgive you,” Pinkamena told him. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“Thanks I suppose,” Walter replied. “You’ve been through a lot lately haven’t you?” Pinkamena stepped away and nodded. Somehow, the assurance with which she agreed with him felt a bit like bragging and Pinkamena looked away, ashamed of her imagined bravado.

“Well,” Walter moved around her. “I should probably get back to the kitchen. I’m late as is.” He stopped and turned back to Pinkamena, a heavy mix of emotions on his face, part of him seemed sad and another happy in a melancholic kind of way. “I wish you luck,” He said. “I hope what Ms. Sunblossom has planned for you works out.”

“Walter,” Pinkamena stopped him as he started to turn away and he stood, waiting for her to continue. For a moment she had forgotten what she wanted to say, but it quickly came back. “Did you really want Ms. Sunblossom to adopt me?”

“Hm,” Walter gave a heavy chuckle and sighed. “You two seemed like the perfect fit. What does a mother do for a child that Ms. Sunblossom hasn’t done for you?” Pinkamena was stumped. There wasn’t anything she could think of other than she wasn’t Ms. Sunblossom’s real daughter. The mare that had given birth to Pinkamena was dead, but Ms. Sunblossom had taken her in, fed her, bathed her, tucked her into bed, comforted her and woke her up when she slept in late when her nightmares wouldn’t let her sleep, given her special attention and made sure she wasn’t lonely. She urged her to make friends, taught her what a friend was like, and had even given her the rare privilege of unconditional forgiveness in the face of death. Walter was right, Ms. Sunblossom was her mother, if not biologically, then in every other sense in which a mother could be a mother.

“Is she going to?” Pinkamena asked. Walter’s expression betrayed nothing. He simply looked at her eye to eye and said,

“You deserve to hear the answer from her, not me.” Pinkamena knew he was right again. She sat in place as if to affirm his correctness and nodded. “We’re having carrot stew for lunch,” He said. “Don’t miss out.” Walter gave an awkward grin, a sign, however slight, that he would be able to return to his normal self given time. Pinkamena managed a half smile in return before Walter was out of sight and it quickly faded. She suddenly realized he had left her alone and she felt immediately conscious of it. Was it really the best idea? Perhaps he wanted her to find Ms. Sunblossom. Pinkamena looked back at the room full of playful fillies, the adults dispersed about the room. It felt like she was different than all of them now. With all the figure’s talk about innocence being the truest form of wisdom, it had certainly done a thorough job of destroying hers. Pinkamena would never be like them ever again. Maybe if Ms. Sunblossom chose to make her, her daughter Pinkamena might be able to salvage half of it. But there was a distinct something that she knew was lost to her and that she could never get back.

Pinkamena took off down the hall and left the front room behind. If there was a place she was likely to find Ms. Sunblossom, it was down the hall adjacent to the mess hall. She went around the long way to avoid attention, but entering found it vacant. There was nopony here, much less Ms. Sunblossom. Her caretaker’s room was dim and unlit, the curtains drawn, deepening the room’s emptiness. Pinkamena exited and caught sight of some of the Canterlot guards moving through the halls and decided to follow them. Peeking around corners and suppressing the little clips her hooves made on the floor, she trailed them at a distance as they made their way to the back of the building. Pinkamena’s body gave an uneasy shudder as they passed through the vacant room again, the nightstand still not set upright and the floorboard still opened. They passed it quickly and she followed, considering it as little as she could. The guards went through the door at the back of the room, which opened into a small hall with another door that opened and led outside. Pinkamena could feel the rush of a cool May breeze and was greeted not with lantern light, but bright natural sunlight, shining green off the trees and grass.

Pinkamena took a peek out the door to see the guards move to a group. There she was. Pinkamena recognized Ms. Sunblossom’s ruffled tan pelt and the cart she supported her leg with. But when Pinkamena felt her hoof squish into the soft earth past the threshold, she flinched back, not wanting to be seen. Ms. Sunblossom was talking to a mare with a pale gray coat, her mane a darker gray nearly the same shade as Limestone’s, but her hair was tied into a bun much like Redheart’s only higher up the back of her head. A black, stitched collar was tied about her neck and a pair of reading bifocals hung from her nose, tied about her ears by a string of yellow beads. Close beside her was the stallion she remembered the nurse refer to as Igneous, Limestone and Marble’s father. The two fillies were behind the mare and Igneous, pawing at one another, but refraining from their previous antics. They were standing near a grave yard, a freshly dug and filled hole nearby, Igneous lifting up a large stone slab like it was made of plastic.

Ms. Sunblossom was conversing with them, but Pinkamena couldn’t make out their words from the doorway and she didn’t dare go further. She knew whose grave they had dug and didn’t want to go anywhere near it. She was as sorry about Archer as she possibly could be; going near the filly’s tomb would only reopen the wound. Pinkamena sunk back inside and, taking one last glance, she breathed in the scent of freshly turned soil, and trotted swiftly away. The hall created a kind of tunnel for the breeze and it flipped her mane into her face as she made her way back into the vacant room. She passed through it quickly, preoccupying her attention with getting her hair out of her eyes. Once halfway down the hall, she stopped and sat down.

What now, she thought? Would she have to wait for Ms. Sunblossom to finish whatever business she had with those ponies? It was presumably the Pie family. The mare she had seen looked similar enough. She was probably Marble and Limestone’s mother. But why would Ms. Sunblossom pain herself with visiting Archer’s grave so soon just to talk to them?

“Is somepony unsure about their future?” Pinkamena heard a voice say. She knew as soon as she heard it who it was and turned to naturally find her sharp, pointed self image behind her, staring loathsomely. “You’re squandering my gift. Just let me-”

“No,” Pinkamena interrupted bluntly.

“Tch,” it spat at her, making the sound, but nothing hit the floor. “Look at you. This is exactly what we could have avoided. Ms. Sunblossom could have been the tragic hero you want her so badly to be. She could be a legend and you wouldn’t need a mother if you would have let me kill her. You could be the mother. My mother! And we-”

“Do you want me to adopt you?” Pinkamena asked, wondering if the image she saw was simply something that took her own wants and twisted them.

“You already have,” It replied. Perhaps she was wrong.

“Why? Didn’t you have a mom?”

“Don’t we all?

“What happened?”

“She loved her work too much.” Was that really a bad thing?

“You’re wasting time!” The figure stomped a hoof and started pacing from wall to wall across the corridor. “Instead of knowing everything we’re stuck waiting on the choice of a mare who’s so emotionally broken that she couldn’t possibly-”

“You’re wrong,” Pinkamena told the figure.

“Stop interru-!”

“She’ll make the right choice,” Pinkamena assured it. “Ms. Sunblossom knows what’s best for me. She’ll be my mom…if it’s right.” Pinkamena left it at that and walked away from the figure, turning her back and ignoring it.

“You can’t get rid of me Pinkamena!” It shouted after her. “I’ll always be here! I’m you and I’ll bide my time until you come around. And I swear!” It shouted louder and louder as Pinkamena increased her distance, her eyes to the floor, paying it no heed. “I’ll be there to tell you what it means! No matter what you do I’ll let you know…” It paused taking in a deep breath and screaming,

“You missed the whole point!” The voice stopped and when Pinkamena reached an intersection of halls, she looked back from where she came and the figure was gone.

She made her way to the mess hall for lunch and although she was an hour early, it was the only thing she could think to do to pass the time. She would wait for Ms. Sunblossom to come to her. Pinkamena had faith in her caretaker and she rested her hopes on that; that maybe when the day was over, she could call the mare her mother.

But it was the rest of the day she would have to wait. Pinkamena never left the mess hall either. Figuring that if she went running around hounding the halls she would arouse suspicion or worse make Ms. Sunblossom uneasy, she stayed put, flipping every which way on her stool to get comfortable when her body became stiff. She sat, got up and paced, lay on her back across the stool and even tried balancing on it to pass time. At intervals she would see Ms. Sunblossom scooting herself around the halls, but she was always with the Pies. They walked next to Ms. Sunblossom through Pinkamena’s field of vision always taking slow patient steps so the mare could keep up with them as they listened intently to what she was saying, their faces ever serious. At one passing, Marble caught sight of Pinkamena and, her eyes lighting with recognition, pointed, waving her hoof and telling her mother to look, tugging at the mare’s tail. Her mother would simply turn and glare at her daughter, shushing her and turning the filly about and moving her along even as Marble pleaded with her mother that she must have known the pony she was looking at. Pinkamena couldn’t know what they were saying and it pulled at her nerves every time she saw Ms. Sunblossom with them. Looking back Pinkamena realized that Ms. Sunblossom couldn’t have passed by more than three times, but those three times made it seem like Pinkamena saw her caretaker every ten minutes walking the halls with some ponies she didn’t know.

Dinner past and Pinkamena ate little of it. She had been doing nothing all day and she didn’t need food. During the meal it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Archer’s friends since they had played four square and the filly’s companions were nowhere to be found at the evening meal. Perhaps it was better that way. Pinkamena wondered, perhaps out of worry, how they were doing, but didn’t know what she would do if she saw them. Imagining the worst case scenario, Pinkamena thought of them asking her what had really happened to their friend and every time she tried to come up with a believable response that wasn’t the truth, it made her want to cry and in her mind the scenario ended just like that, with her crying. When she finally imagined herself telling them what she had done, they broke down, scorned her, and Pinkamena, the monstrosity, felt nothing. It was the worst image she had ever made and after she snapped out of her day dream, the evening sun glinting into her eye, she wiped her face, wondering why. These thoughts are too deep for a filly aren’t they? Why do I have them?

The sun was nice while it persisted and Pinkamena curled herself up next to the doorway, basking in it like a cat, savoring the fuzzy sensation it gave her fur until Celestia, persisting in her work, dipped the fiery ball below the horizon. It was dim when she stood up, but as she did, Pinkamena heard the clocking of wooden wheels scoot themselves in intervals through the doorway. She looked up at Ms. Sunblossom before the mare caught sight of her. Massaging her temple with her good hoof, Ms. Sunblossom, looked weary. There were rings under her eyes, her movements heavy, and she let out a sigh so laborious that Pinkamena thought Ms. Sunblossom would pass out from exhaustion. Ravaged by the days events, Ms. Sunblossom walked past Pinkamena without so much of a glance of recognition. The mare’s attention, able only to focus on one thing at a time, was too preoccupied and spent to notice the filly watching her pass, eyes curious, demeanor concerned.

Pinkamena didn’t utter a noise, afraid that if she did, she would take the few moments Ms. Sunblossom had away from everypony. Trailing her weary half steps, half scoots, Pinkamena followed several feet behind Ms. Sunblossom until the mare came to her room at the end of the hall. Pinkamena stopped outside the door as Ms. Sunblossom entered and her body drooped as she watched her caretaker turn to shut the door after she wheeled her cart past the threshold. Pinkamena resigned herself to backing sheepishly away and letting Ms. Sunblossom rest alone in her own room without anypony to disturb her. It seemed like what she should have done, but just as Ms. Sunblossom turned, pivoting around the cart to shut the door, she caught sight of Pinkamena sinking away. Ms. Sunblossom’s expression seemed to quiver for a moment when her eyes met Pinkamena’s, but her face quickly forced itself to be as cheery as it could.

“Oh…” Ms. Sunblossom smiled with a sigh. “Pinkamena. How long have you been there dear?”

“A-are you okay?” Pinkamena asked timidly.

“I’m alright,” Ms. Sunblossom turned her head away. “Come on in.” Her speech was abnormally formal, but Pinkamena obliged, walking slowly into the room behind Ms. Sunblossom. Watching the mare turning about and begin to move for the door, Pinkamena closed it for her. She was sure it was what Ms. Sunblossom wanted and she wasn’t wrong. When Pinkamena clicked the door shut Ms. Sunblossom stopped and reached instead for the lantern above her desk, the weak light casting its glow over her face, exaggerating the lines under her eyes and the messiness of her fur.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena stepped forward. “What did you say…to Walter?” She had to ask, but as soon as she did, Ms. Sunblossom seemed to crumple, her lips quivering, breaking her placid smile as everything from her ears to her tail seemed to sink. She turned herself around forcefully, grinding the wheels of her cart across the floor and moving to the foot of her bed. Standing in front of it, she lifted her wounded leg and propped herself up on the softer surface with her back turned. Pinkamena stood still for several moments without an answer, staring patiently on at her caretakers back, expecting a reply even if it were only to the pictures on the wall. But there was none. Pinkamena was left with empty air and a sinking feeling that seemed to close in on her with the inevitability that her desire would never come true. After what felt like minutes gone by, Pinkamena’s ears were met with a sniffle and then a cough. It wasn’t a sick cough, but a letting lose of a pressure that couldn’t be held in any longer. It was followed with sobs. Ms. Sunblossom was crying, Pinkamena realized and wondered if her caretaker had been in tears this entire time and had only just now been unable to stifle it or if her fit came as a strike to the head, sudden and with unhindered force.

Pinkamena scurried to the foot of Ms. Sunblossom’s bed and jumped up, finding Ms. Sunblossom crying into her folded hooves. Approaching her at eye level, Pinkamena leaned in and reached forward, touching her hoof to one of Ms. Sunblossom’s. Pinkamena flinched back as Ms. Sunblossom’s head came up, revealing a face drenched in water and trembling, trying with all of nothing to hold back her emotions.

“I can’t Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom sobbed. “I c-” She choked on the consonant of her next word and had to wipe her face and clear her throat before she continued. “I can’t adopt you…” There it was. Pinkamena had her answer. Yet it wasn’t this knowledge that made her heart sink the most, but the sight of Ms. Sunblossom. She hadn’t even been like this is in the basement. There she had simply been desperate to survive. Here, in front of a Pinkamena that was outwardly the normal filly she had been since she arrived, Ms. Sunblossom was broken. Pinkamena could feel, in some strange way, Ms. Sunblossom struggle against her own helplessness just as she had. Perhaps it was empathy, or perhaps the tears made it obvious and Pinkamena only thought her observation keen because she was a child.

“You can’t stay here Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom wiped her face again and for the first time since Pinkamena came in the room established actual eye contact with her. “This place will only hurt you…and…I…” Ms. Sunblossom swallowed. “I can’t leave all the other fillies for you. I…I’m sorry…”

“Ms… Ms. Sunblossom…” Pinkamena started, but only managed the name. The answer about her adoption didn’t seem like anything she could argue. Still, she wanted to get Ms. Sunblossom to stop crying, but didn’t know how. She started her sentence without an inkling and trailed off without any comforting words to give.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” Ms. Sunblossom apologized. “But…you-you see I…” Ms. Sunblossom tripped over her sentence and while her tongue was tied, Pinkamena stepped forward and, propping herself up on her hind legs, gave Ms. Sunblossom a hug.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” Pinkamena said with her head over the mare’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“What?” Ms. Sunblossom stopped, lifting her head up and hesitantly putting her good hoof lightly across Pinkamena’s back.

“I love you,” Pinkamena repeated. She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but wasn’t love supposed to be the pinnacle of affection, the highest place, the point at which one could no longer care with any more than they were already giving? Pinkamena couldn’t think of a way she could have cared any more for Ms. Sunblossom so ‘I love you’ was what she said. Pinkamena remembered reading stories where two characters were supposed to be in love with each other and they would kiss, have cheesy conversations, and be hooked to each other so steadfastly that they began to become the same person. That was fairy tale love. This wasn’t that kind of feeling. The feeling Pinkamena had was laced with a needle of pain that bit into her every time she remembered that Ms. Sunblossom probably cared as much for her as Pinkamena did for Ms. Sunblossom. Yet for any feelings they might have—whether it was the connection a close mother and daughter might feel, the admiration a child had for her hero, or the fondness of sisters—there was some irremovable vice that pried them apart.

“Thank you Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom’s embrace tightened. Something cold touched Pinkamena’s neck and seemed to pinch the muscles where the sensation stung her skin. Ms. Sunblossom’s tears were cold and seemed to sear Pinkamena’s fur. She shivered. “But I still can’t be your mom.”

“Why?” Pinkamena asked. Ms. Sunblossom lifted Pinkamena away from her and left her hoof around her at leg’s length. The whole situation seemed backwards. Ms. Sunblossom, who was normally perfectly composed, struggled to keep her composure, while Pinkamena, the filly who could barely speak her mind, asked her question bluntly without so much as cloudy eyes. Pinkamena simply wanted to know.

“I did everything I could to save you Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom sniffled and wiping her face again with her injured leg, winced and set it carefully back to the bed. “My injury and Archer’s death were enough to raise a lot of questions. Everypony was saying you were insane Pinkamena. They wanted me to send you away to a psychiatric ward somewhere far away. Chester even told me you were a threat to all the other fillies and you either needed to leave or be…” Ms. Sunblossom paused and Pinkamena tried to step forward again, but Ms. Sunblossom held her back. “Put down…” There was another silence. Pinkamena wasn’t taken back by the suggestion. She had killed another filly. wasn’t that what she deserved? She couldn’t hate Chester for his cruelty; the unicorn only wanted justice. Anyone without the details of the events would have wanted the same. Yet looking at Ms. Sunblossom, there was something in the mare’s demeanor that convinced Pinkamena that Ms. Sunblossom somehow understood the source of her pain and the ache behind the mare’s words came from the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to hinder that source.

“If the Pies weren’t such a well known strict family,” Ms. Sunblossom continued. “I doubt I could have convinced anypony.”

“What do you…mean?” Pinkamena asked.

“You’ll be going home with them tomorrow Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Tomorrow you’ll be part of the Pie family and… I’ll never see you again.” It was so blunt that the stinging feeling Pinkamena feared she might have to face wasn’t there. There was only a sensation of emptiness and nothing in Pinkamena’s face to show that she cared one way or the other. Pinkamena tried to give Ms. Sunblossom another hug, but Ms. Sunblossom’s leg tightened and held the filly back.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” Pinkamena said nudging her body against the leg that held her in place. It didn’t give. “I love you.”

“I know,” Ms. Sunblossom answered. “But that doesn’t change anything. You still have to go and it didn’t make telling Archer’s friends that…they’ll never see him again any… tch.” Ms. Sunblossom broke down in front of Pinkamena, the mare’s head falling to her sheets and the leg she held to Pinkamena’s chest falling limply to the filly’s feet. Ms. Sunblossom cried there for several moments, her greatest lamentations never for herself, but always for the fillies and colts that she knew she had let down and for the vain idea that there was even an imaginary way for her to atone for that. The desire to bring a pony back to life seemed like a worse greed than Pinkamena’s own, wanting nothing more than to be able to see disaster before it struck with only the thought of saving her own assets in mind. Pinkamena flinched as her tail gave a twitch and the cart next to Ms. Sunblossom crashed to the floor with a loud snap, the wheels spinning slowly as it ended its fall. Ms. Sunblossom raised her head, wiping her eyes and nose.

“I’m sorry Pinkamena,” She apologized. “I’m acting ridiculous. Could you help me up?” Pinkamena made an affirmative “mm” with a nod and hopped down from the bed and with a creak like a hinge, flattened out her tail into a platform again. A bit hesitantly, Ms. Sunblossom stepped her hind legs up onto it so she could get high enough to step up onto the bed while keeping her injured leg up close to her body. She moved to the center of the bed and carefully lowered herself down, curling her tail around over her hind legs. Pinkamena lowered her ears and sulked away, glancing at Ms. Sunblossom’s dresser before stopping to ask,

“Do you want your socks?”

“I don’t think I’ll need them,” Ms. Sunblossom replied. Not even that, Pinkamena thought. She hung her head and moved for the door.

“It’s better if you stay here,” Ms. Sunblossom said. Pinkamena stopped and turned back to her caretaker. Ms. Sunblossom was trying her best to smile. “Besides…I’d at least like to spend a little time with you…before you go.” It sunk in rather slowly, but gradually a smile came across Pinkamena’s face and with what was almost a giggle, she scampered back to the bed, leaped onto it and dove in for a hug, tucking her head under Ms. Sunblossom’s chin.

“Tss,” Ms. Sunblossom flinched, drawing back her leg. Pinkamena forced herself away immediately and backed off, lowering her head.

“I’m sorry,” Pinkamena apologized. She knew what she had done and figured she should have known better. The wound was her fault after all; she should have been just as conscious of it as Ms. Sunblossom was.

“It’s alright dear,” Ms. Sunblossom said sucking up the pain. “Come on, lay here.” Pinkamena moved carefully across the covers and laid next to Ms. Sunblossom, pressing herself to the mare’s side. It was warm and even warmer when Ms. Sunblossom put her tail over her and some of the stray hairs tickled Pinkamena’s side. Looking up at Ms. Sunblossom, Pinkamena felt inexplicably at. She couldn’t have remembered the feeling of actually belonging if she had tried until now. It had come back to her even if it were only fleeting. In the morning it would be gone and it might never come back. But for now, Ms. Sunblossom’s watery eyes and wearily happy face were more welcoming and warm than she had felt since her parents had gone away. It made her sad when she thought about the way that they were gradually fading from her memory. She could no longer recall the sounds of their voices or how comforting it had been when her mother tucked her in at night. Although, she thought, she imagined it had been something just like what she had felt when Ms. Sunblossom had done the same. Right now, Pinkamena was tempted to call her mom. She was practically her second mother and now that Pinkamena finally realized it, she was losing this one too.

“Did Nurse Redheart introduce you to Marble and Limestone?” Ms. Sunblossom asked.

“Mmhm,” Pinkamena nodded and swallowed.

“Do you think you’ll get along?”

“They’re really playful,” Pinkamena said. “They like to wrestle.”

“They live on a rock farm,” Ms. Sunblossom added. “I think…I think it’ll be good for you…”

“Hey…” Pinkamena said as Ms. Sunblossom’s gaze shifted away from her. It came back and the mare waited. “I love you,” Pinkamena said. Ms. Sunblossom leaned forward and gave Pinkamena a kiss on her forehead. It was light and a shudder went through Pinkamena’s body. Ms. Sunblossom lowered her head and pressed her forehead to Pinkamena’s.

“Sweet dreams Pinkie,” she said.

“Pinkie…” Pinkamena said gazing back at Ms. Sunblossom filled with a kind of unexplainable wonder, mixed with disappointment.

“I shortened your name,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “do you like it?”

“It’s…nice…” It was all she could say.

“I’m glad,” Ms. Sunblossom said and lifting her head away, gave Pinkamena another kiss and laid down. Pinkamena did the same, laying her head in her front hooves and tucking herself as close to Ms. Sunblossom as she could. She had tried, she thought. She had said it four times, four. Of course she had kept track. Yet for her efforts she had received nothing. Why couldn’t, why wouldn’t Ms. Sunblossom just say it back to her. Were Ms. Sunblossom’s feelings not as strong as Pinkamena thought they had been? Did the mare not think of her as a daughter, the way Pinkamena thought Ms. Sunblossom as a mother? Perhaps not. But then why this? Maybe Ms. Sunblossom was simply trying to speak with her actions because if she said anything that was so heartrendingly true, she would break down again. Pinkamena had always known Ms. Sunblossom was stronger than her.

PART 5: Follow the Sound

Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare's Precognition

Part 5: Follow the Sound

Pinkamena woke up to an isolated feeling. She shivered and, opening her eyes, found Ms. Sunblossom at the edge of the bed, easing herself down in a fashion that looked laborious and unnecessary. Pinkamena hopped to her feet.

“Wai-” It was too late. Ms. Sunblossom was already picking up her cart and propping her bandaged leg onto it.

“I’m sorry Pinkie,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “I didn’t want to wake you.” She still looked horribly tired. Even after her rest the weary lines and disheveled look of her fur lingered. Pinkamena didn’t like the thought that they might never go away, but she assured herself that as soon as she was gone, Ms. Sunblossom would get better. Pinkamena was weighing her caretaker down and she knew it. Even more than the death of Archer, the thing that was plaguing Ms. Sunblossom the most was her. Pinkamena sunk back down to the bed, feeling like a parasite, selfishly draining the love from a mare who had other children to take care of.

“Well now that you’re awake, you may as well come along,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “The Pies are early risers. They’ve probably been up for a bit already.” Pinkamena looked to the window at the foot of Ms. Sunblossom’s bed. It was only just beginning to get brighter, the dawn light barely able to seep its way through the thick layer of curtains.

“Come on,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her, opening the door. Pinkamena looked to her and back to the window. Lifting her hoof, she hesitated before turning back to Ms. Sunblossom whose welcoming expression remained unchanged. But just what was she welcoming her to? The mare seemed much calmer, and more at peace than the night before. If there was some kind of resolution Ms. Sunblossom had come across while they had been asleep, Pinkamena hadn’t shared the experience. Even getting up from the covers seemed like a detachment, a letting go that every subsequent step she took would hold until everything around was gone. It had seemed like only an idea the night before, something only the future held. But now it was here and she had to take every step no matter how unwilling she was and with or without the knowledge of where it would take her. Pinkamena had no idea what a rock farm was like, but even the idea sounded bleak. Normally fillies met their parents—several times—before they were even taken to visit a home, much less adopted.

But Pinkamena understood in what little way she could the gravity of what she had done and why she couldn’t stay. Even if Ms. Sunblossom hadn’t told her everything, she knew enough and if she cared enough to say that she loved the mare the way a daughter loves her mother, then she figured she should also be able to trust her as well.

Pinkamena hopped lightly down from the bed, making her way noiselessly to Ms. Sunblossom’s side. As they exited the room, Pinkamena looked back, catching a glimpse of all the pictures covering the walls and the imprint they had left on the sheets where they had slept. And then a wooden slab, closed it off. Pinkamena blinked, staring at the door for a few moments and lingering next to it as Ms. Sunblossom began scooting her way down the hall with her cart. That was the last she would see of that room, its walls, its families, its occupant. Raising a hoof, she pressed it to the door and might have been inclined to open it, if the knob wasn’t so far above her head.

“Pinkie?” Ms. Sunblossom had stopped and half turned in the hall, realizing that the filly that had been next to her had stopped following. Pinkamena took her hoof off the door and let it fall, turning to Ms. Sunblossom like she had done something wrong, wishing she could go back. Saying nothing in reply, Pinkamena hung her head and followed along again, this time staying as close to Ms. Sunblossom as she could the way she had done in the past. In a way, she was glad, perhaps not happy, but glad that it was Ms. Sunblossom’s leg that she had chosen to injure as it made their trek to the front room slow and cherishable. Had Ms. Sunblossom been fully able, their walk would have been short and before Pinkamena would’ve had time to realize where they were going or to let the fact that this was the last time she would walk with Ms. Sunblossom sink in, it would have been over and she would be sitting in a foyer waiting to be handed over like a criminal to the jail warden. It was what it felt like—a walk of shame—the empty lanterns along the walls meant to be her spectators, staring down at her and reminding her why she had to leave. She imagined them writing it on the wall: you have no one to blame.

They arrived in the front room, an organized clutter waiting to be rearranged as soon as the other fillies woke up and found their favorite toys. There was no pony there though, and Pinkamena wondered for a moment if they were really going to meet the Pies. She looked up at Ms. Sunblossom, the mare’s gaze resolutely on her destination. She had said nothing for the entire walk. It was better that way. Pinkamena wasn’t sure what she might have said had Ms. Sunblossom asked her anything or if there was even anything left to ask. Everything had already been decided.

Ms. Sunblossom pushed the front door open before Pinkamena could offer to help and both of them were met with a brisk morning breeze and faint light from a sun just peeking over the horizon that reflected off the dew on the grass. Half silhouetted by it in front of them was the Pie family, Igneous loading things into a covered wagon, his wife fiddling with something at the front, and Nurse Redheart doing her best to get Marble and Limestone to keep their hooves to themselves. As Pinkamena and Ms. Sunblossom stepped outside, the twins were the first to notice and turning from pulling on Nurse Redheart’s legs, they looked like they wanted to greet them, but restrained themselves as soon as their father turned his head. He trudged over and Pinkamena’s body shivered, the dew cold on her hooves and the wind providing nothing other than Ms. Sunblossom for warmth. Igneous seemed to tower over her, looking down at her with the emotion of a stone. Was this what rock farmers were like? Pinkamena felt intimidated until the stallion’s wife came over, her daughters peeking out from behind her.

“Hey there,” the twin’s mother leaned in. “Pinkamena Diane, right?” There was something motherly and kind in her demeanor. But the mare didn’t smile, so her question came across as rather frank.

“Mmhm…” Pinkamena bit down. “Hi…mom…” She said the last word almost inaudibly because she knew no matter how she tried to call this near stranger mom, it would sound forced and feel awkward.

“Hey,” Marble poked her head forward. “I told you she was the pony from earlier.” The filly looked to her sister and, apparently disproved in some way, Limestone frowned.

“She seems like a darling,” Their mother said, looking to Ms. Sunblossom.

“She is,” Ms. Sunblossom said, a misty nostalgia in her voice. Pinkamena turned her head to Ms. Sunblossom. Maybe she was being too sensitive, but it seemed like Ms. Sunblossom was giving her up to easily. Yet, as Pinkamena kept reminding herself, Ms. Sunblossom had already decided that what she was doing was necessary and for Pinkamena’s own good. She had only good intentions.

“We’ll take care of her,” Igneous assured Ms. Sunblossom. He seemed rather blunt, but from what Pinkamena had seen so far, her soon to be father was always blunt, taking no time for small talk and saying only what was necessary.

“Thank you for doing this on such short notice,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “I know you’ve been looking to adopt for awhile, but I’m sorry you couldn’t get to know her better first.”

“Marble and Limestone got along with her well enough,” a voice chimed in. It was the nurse standing apart from them next to the wagon. “I mean…” She glanced away as everyone turned to her. “I wouldn’t worry…too much,” She smiled uneasily and the twin’s mother turned to them raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry mom,” Limestone said. “She’s doesn’t say much. She’s a lot like Maud.” Pinkamena returned her gaze to the family only to find Igneous glaring down at her. Perhaps it wasn’t glare, but to somepony who wasn’t used to the stallion’s demeanor—to Pinkamena—it felt like a glare. She felt like she was being judged, sized up, and given a ranking of some kind. Did he know? How much had Ms. Sunblossom told them, Pinkamena wondered? The truth? Was Igneous glaring at her as a warning, should she try anything against his own daughters? She pressed herself to Ms. Sunblossom and after a few moments Igneous raised his hoof. Pinkamena clamped her eyes shut, feeling like he might strike her or that he was reaching for her to get a better look at her face, to examine it somehow. She felt him firmly place his hoof on her head, and ruffle her mane. Pinkamena opened her eyes, realizing how tense she had been as she felt her muscles loosen. She looked up at the stallion as he put his hoof down, still looking back at her with the same expression.

“Let’s go,” He said to the others, and Pinkamena’s eyes followed him as he turned and headed back to the wagon. Pinkamena was stunned enough that she had forgotten for the moment that Ms. Sunblossom was beside her and was jarred from a strange kind of reverie when her caretaker gave her a nudge forward. Being suddenly separated from Ms. Sunblossom, Pinkamena felt an immediate chill, the breeze biting at her side that had previously been sheltered. She took a step and turned to Ms. Sunblossom, looking for something, perhaps answer, but unsure what she wanted an answer to.

“Go,” Ms. Sunblossom said doing her best to stop herself from shaking. Before Pinkamena could answer, the door behind them opened and she caught sight of Walter, saddlebags over his back, something hung around his neck and two colts trailing behind him. Pinkamena recognized them as they made their way over. They were Archer’s two friends, colored splotches in their fur like they had been painting, one of them carrying a small rock in his mouth.

“Emese,” Walter called as he approached. The Pies stopped as well, watching on at the apparent hold up.

“Walter?” Ms. Sunblossom said as he walked around to her so she didn’t have to turn. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” He lifted the object around his neck off by it’s strap and held it out to her. It was a camera. “You always take pictures of all the adoptions, so I figured you’d want this.” Ms. Sunblossom accepted the item with her good hoof, hanging it around her own neck.

“Right…” Ms. Sunblossom said. “I almost forgot.”

“I couldn’t ignore these two either,” Walter gestured to the two colts standing next to him, waiting eagerly, looking ragged and messy, to give Ms. Sunblossom what the first colt had in his mouth. Ms. Sunblossom held out her hoof and the colt stepped forward and placed it there, clicking his tongue to get the taste out of his mouth. Lifting it up, Ms. Sunblossom turned the rock taking in a sharp breath and biting her lip. Pinkamena saw what it was and felt it was only one more thing to add to her guilty list for reasons Ms. Sunblossom had to cry. The ordinary gray stone was emblazoned with Archer’s cutie mark in surprisingly neat strokes of paint. The baseball and the bat were both there and the colts had even taken to the painstaking task of adding the tiniest of red stitches to the baseball. Pinkamena wondered how much help they had or if they had done this all on their own. She couldn’t doubt that it had been their idea and wished that they might have decided to show up after she had gone. The sight of such an earnest display of affection for the colt she killed made her chest ache. Pinkamena couldn’t look at them even knowing that Ms. Sunblossom hadn’t told the colt’s that she was the one who had killed their friend. Instead, she turned her attention to Walter and he looked to her, his job of delivering the camera and the colts finished.

“Hey kiddo,” He said, catching her eye. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you about this sooner.” Pinkamena said nothing, but approached the stallion, placing her forehead to his right leg and wrapping her front hooves around it. Walter instinctively tried to step back, but stopped because the filly had a hold on his leg.

“I don’t deserve that,” He said. “I’m just the cook.” Pinkamena thought of telling Walter that he was her favorite cook then, but it seemed cheesy, a childish thing to say. Rather than that, she simply held on until he said otherwise.

“Here,” He said. “I baked you something.” Walter retrieved a small white, cubical box from his saddlebag and placed it on the ground beside her. Pinkamena still didn’t let go of him, but looked up wanting a real goodbye out of him.

“It’s a cupcake,” Walter told her. “They’re today’s dessert, so I figured you should have one.”

“Walter?” Pinkamena asked.

“Yes?”

“Will you keep making ponies laugh after I leave?”

“Wh-I guess I’ll do my best. Not sure I was all that-”

“You were great,” Pinkamena stopped him. It felt rude, but good at the same time, knowing that she was somehow reassuring Walter, however good or poor her reassurance might be, was rewarding. She let go and, wrapping her tail around the box, lifted it up to carry it. Walter was unsure what to say for a moment, taken off both by her words and by her strange actions.

“Heh, Well don’t eat that all at once then filly,” Walter smiled. For Pinkamena, this was a victory, however small. It filled her with an indescribable joy to know she made Walter smile, a pony that had been one of the few to get her to do the same. Yet she showed none of it. Perhaps she was more like the Pies than she thought.

“Excuse me,” Ms. Sunblossom called to the Pies. “Can I get all of you back here for one picture?” They obliged without complaint, the twins more eager about the prospect than Pinkamena though they might be. Pinkamena herself wasn’t very enthusiastic about having her picture taken and she doubted she could smile even for a camera. But the Pies gathered together in front of Ms. Sunblossom and the mare directed them, putting the fillies between their parents and placing Pinkamena in the center of all of them, just like the rest of pictures on Ms. Sunblossom’s wall. The twins settled on either side of Pinkamena when their father gave them a stern glance after they had toyed around, placing themselves both on top and underneath Pinkamena climbing over her and experimenting with where they wanted to be. They ended up to her right and left, one of each of their hooves placed around Pinkamena’s, cordial and sister-like. Pinkamena knew none of them were smiling. She could count on Igneous at least for that and looking to Marble and Limestone the most they managed was a slight upturned mouth. None of them showed their teeth. Staring ahead at the lens, Pinkamena did her best to at least not look sad or depressed, but she didn’t smile either, it might have broken the mood. At least that was the excuse she gave herself. The camera flashed and after a few seconds the photo came reeling with a squeak out the front slot.

“Sorry,” Ms. Sunblossom said, taking out the picture, giving it a wave, and handing it to Walter. He took it and put it in his saddlebag. “I take pictures of all the fillies when they’re adopted.”

“It’s no problem,” Their mother assured her. The Pies had separated relatively quickly after the photo with the exception of Marble and Limestone who held onto Pinkamena and tugged at her, beckoning their new sister to come along with them. But there was one last thing that Pinkamena had to do. She shrugged them off and trotted up to Ms. Sunblossom as Walter took the camera back and hung it around his neck. Pinkamena and Ms. Sunblossom looked at each other for several moments both not really knowing what they were supposed to say or what type of goodbye would really be enough. There wasn’t one that would be satisfying, Pinkamena sensed it as soon as she stopped in front of the mare and her eyes got watery.

“Maybe I’ll see you someday,” Ms. Sunblossom wiped her eyes. “When you’re grown up.” Pinkamena leapt forward and gave Ms. Sunblossom the firmest hug she could without hurting her, burying her nose in the fur on the mare’s neck.

“I love you Ms Sunblossom,” Pinkamena said.

“I’ll miss you Pinkie…” Ms. Sunblossom sighed, returning the embrace with her one good leg. Pinkamena had expected for her word to be unreturned this time, so she held the embrace as long as she could, but before long Ms. Sunblossom let go, placing a hoof to one of Pinkamena’s signaling for her to do the same. Lowering herself back to the grass, Pinkamena stepped back and looked at Walter. He nodded and she nodded back. She looked at Archer’s two friends, the colts huddled close to each other staring sadly down at the rock Ms. Sunblossom had placed next to her. There was nothing she could have said to them. After all, why should she say goodbye to ponies she had never really said hello to. Turning back to Ms. Sunblossom, she found the mare actually smiling at her. There was a finality in that smile and a release, the last thing Pinkamena needed to see before she could have been anywhere close to letting the orphanage and all her friends go. She managed a small smile in return, knowing that if her final efforts had brought a smile to Ms. Sunblossom’s face, then there was nothing more she could ask for.

Ms. Sunblossom leaned in and gave Pinkamena one last kiss on her forehead. Before the mare could take her head away though, Pinkamena grabbed Ms. Sunblossom by the cheeks, pulled herself up, and returned Ms. Sunblossom’s gesture. The mare stood for a moment, looking rather torn.

Without warning, Ms. Sunblossom’s cart toppled over and she collapsed at Pinkamena’s feet, embracing the filly with both her good and bad hoof.

“Emese!” Walter panicked. Pinkamena fumbled with her hooves, wanting to help Ms. Sunblossom up, but stood still, feeling Ms. Sunblossom’s weight on her and not wanting the mare to fall. Ms. Sunblossom raised a hoof as Walter came up, signaling she was okay. He backed away with a concerned expression reaching for her cart instead.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena inquired.

“I’m sorry again, Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom answered. “I’ve been hiding. I…I love you too.” No, Pinkamena thought, not now. But this was what she wanted; those were the words that she had wanted to hear. She wanted to know that after everything, that even though she had to go, that Pinkamena’s torn feelings weren’t unrequited. But not now, not in front of everypony. She bawled. It was like she was an infant again, crying in her mother’s arms. She didn’t regret it. But what did her new family think. This was the first thing her new sisters had really seen her do. Would they think less of her?

“Pinkamena, stop,” Ms. Sunblossom laid in the grass and lifted Pinkamena’s head from her shoulder, wiping the tears off the filly’s face.

“Thanks…” Pinkamena sniffled.

“There’s one last thing I need you to do.” Pinkamena nodded. Anything, she thought. Tell me to be your daughter, and I’ll do it in a heartbeat. “Pass that message to the other girl.”

“Huh?” Pinkamena tilted her head. Other girl? Did she mean her sisters? But there were two of them…

“Tell her I forgive her and maybe…” Ms. Sunblossom paused. “Maybe she can forgive me too. I’m sorry I was afraid of her.”

“What do you mean?” Pinkamena asked. “Who are you talking about?”

“You’ll know what I mean,” Ms. Sunblossom told her. “It’s something only you can do. Do you trust me?” Pinkamena nodded. Of course she did, and she vowed that she would do it no matter how long it took her to figure it out. She had to.

“Alright. Time to go.” Ms. Sunblossom went to stand and Walter was quick to bring her cart forward as Pinkamena gave the mare’s bad leg a boost up with her tail. “Thank you both…” Ms. Sunblossom said and smiled. Pinkamena smiled back at her, and Leaving the mare no time to react, she turned and scampered away, trotting up to the twins next to Nurse Redheart

“Come on,” their mother walked up next to them and nudged them onward. “Up you go.” The twins hopped up into the covered cart and Nurse Redheart offered Pinkamena a boost. She climbed onto the nurse’s back as the mare lifted her up and Pinkamena wiggled the rest of her way up into the wagon. Their mother headed around to the front and looking through the wagon, Pinkamena watched her help her husband latch and saddle up to the front of the cart. When she came back around, she jumped into the back of the wagon along with the rest of them, sitting on the small wooden platforms on the sides that passed for benches.

“Ready?” She asked, looking at Pinkamena. Pinkamena nodded. The wagon jerked into motion and with that singular jolt the idea of leaving seemed to finally fall over her. Pinkamena sat at the back mouth of the wagon, her friends waving after her as Igneous started it on its way. She waved back and it hit her that she recognized this image. She had seen it before, the rock with the mark on it next to Ms. Sunblossom as she faded away, shrinking smaller and smaller. Pinkamena didn’t cry after her, nor did Ms. Sunblossom call out to Pinkamena. But Pinkamena didn’t stop waving until they were dots on the horizon, the orphanage gradually dissolving into the plains. And that was it. Pinkamena wouldn’t see Ms. Sunblossom for a long while, if ever. She put her hoof down and heard a bell ring. The loud iron clang resonated through the air as crisply as the morning breeze. And without an echo, it subsided. Pinkamena turned to the others. They either hadn’t heard it or paid no attention to it. There weren’t any bells at the orphanage and no towns, certainly not any close enough, for the chime to ring out so clearly. Yet it rang only once. It was as if the air were giving a signal. This is it, it said, now your life will never be the same. Pinkamena stood and listened for it again, but there was nothing. She shrugged. She couldn’t control the bell, wherever it was, or the pony, whoever they were, who rang it, so she turned back into the wagon to take her seat.

“So what?” A voice said. “You’re just going to resign yourself to your fate?” Pinkamena stopped, looking to her right to find her double again, upset as ever, always dissatisfied with what she was doing.

“You could have had her you know!” It yelled at her. “You could have chosen any future you wanted, but you threw them away. If you want Ms. Sunblossom so much go take her and don’t let anyone take you away from her. She’s yours! I don’t need her! Stand up for yourself you weakling!” Pinkamena turned away from it and hopped up onto a seat on the opposite side of the wagon as her new mother and Nurse Redheart.

“That’s not how it works,” She whispered, but when she looked back to the mouth of the wagon, the figure was gone.

_________________

Pinkamena spent far more time than she ever had traveling. It was the first time she had been in wagon like this or in a wagon at all and she was impressed that despite all the weight he must have been carrying, Igneous, her father, trudged stubbornly onward without rest. Pinkamena had no idea how far away their rock farm was or where Ponyville was in Equestria, but it was far more distance than she expected. When they had left the orphanage, the sun was just rising beginning to dissolve the cool dew off the grass into a light fuzzy mist. It was slow going, steadily bumpy at first, escalating as the day wore on from light bumps to the occasional jostle. The landscape was becoming more jagged the farther they went. Looking behind them, it was like leaving a haven, the green fields the orphanage had been on turning into gray terraces and rock formations. Pinkamena didn’t know what she expected when she heard the phrase ’rock farm’ but knew the shift was something she should have anticipated. Yet even if she had, it was nothing she could have prepared herself for. It was as if Ms. Sunblossom’s furthering absence was draining the landscape of its vitality, turning it to stone without her kindness to give it vibrance.

It didn’t help that the Pies weren’t much more vibrant than the landscape itself. The twins were the most animated of the group, but during the majority of the ride they didn’t have much room to move around. They occupied themselves with batting and tossing a glittery ruby back and forth, a gem that they had pulled out from under the benches. It was spherical, as if they had taken a normal ruby and balled it up like it were only a piece of paper. They giggled at intervals, seemingly at some inside joke known only to themselves, glancing to her to see if she understood it by chance or perhaps inquiring in their family’s wordless way if Pinkamena might like to join them. Pinkamena didn’t pick up their joke or their hints, so they turned back to each other, assuming her answer on both accounts was no.

Their mother, now hers as well she supposed, left the wagon every so often to walk alongside her husband and keep him company. Pinkamena talked little with them and it might have bothered her if the part of her mind that was responsible for worry was not occupied with the aches and pains that came every time she reminded herself that with every clock of the wagon’s wheels Ms. Sunblossom got farther and farther away.

“So,” Nurse Redheart spoke up to break the silence. “How is it being a Pie so far?”

“I don’t know…” Pinkamena replied. The question had seemed preemptive, asked far before Pinkamena even knew half of what her new family was like.

“Oh she just needs some time to adjust.” Her mother made her way from her seat across the wagon and sat down next to Pinkamena. “Right?”

“I still think Pinkamena Pie sounds funny,” One of the twins said.

“Limestone,” Their mother raised an eyebrow at her daughter who looked back with an earnest expression that stubbornly reasserted that that was the way the filly felt about her sister’s name. Maybe it was all the syllables, Pinkamena thought.

“Pinkie,” Pinkamena said to nopony in particular.

“Pinkie what?” Marble asked.

“Pie,” Pinkamena finished.

“It’s better I guess,” Marble said, turning back to Limestone and giving the ruby a shove across the way.

“Don’t worry,” Her mother gave Pinkamena a light squeeze. “I’m sure you’ll fit in.” She got up and headed to the wagon entrance.

“Isn’t that what Igneous said?” Nurse Redheart asked.

“Yes it is,” Her mother replied matter of factly and, hopping out, made her way around to accompany her husband again for awhile. That was the deepest their conversations went during their trek. Everything else was either one of the twins making a face at Pinkamena or Nurse Redheart doing her best to smile every time their eyes happened to meet, trying to look as reassuring as possible. By the time the grass had disappeared completely, it was evening and it gave the rocky ground and cliffs an orange tint on top of all the gray. Pinkamena was surprised at how well all of them went without food the entire time. She had brought out the cupcake Walter had given her midway through the ride, looking up at the sun high above them. At that time it had to have been around lunch, yet not once did even the twins whine, ask for food, or even hint that they were hungry.

Pinkamena was made acutely aware of her own hunger when Nurse Redheart dug into her saddlebags and brought out a sandwich lined with lettuce, hay, and tomatoes, apparently not as strong willed as the family she had chosen to ride along with. Pinkamena shared in her discomfort, opening the white box and peering in to have the pungent scent of sugary, flavored frosting hit her nose. She pulled back her face when she smelled it, her stomach grumbling audibly despite her attempts to stifle it. Pinkamena plopped the confection from its box and stared at it for a few moments, knowing it was the only thing she would have to eat until they arrived at their destination, wherever it was. All the while Nurse Redheart chewed away at her sandwich, happy to get some real food. Pinkamena nibbled at the fluffy cake at first, giving the frosting a lick. It was sweet and the cake itself was flaky yet pleasantly chewy. Eventually she took a whole bite, swallowing smoothly and with satisfaction feeling an immediately rush of alertness from all the sugar. She looked around the wagon first to Nurse Redheart and then to Marble and Limestone, expecting they might have been watching her for some reason. But the twins were busy, Marble half asleep, eyelids drooping and curled up next to the side of the wagon and Limestone continuing to play catch with herself, while Nurse Redheart sipped on boxed apple juice by a straw.

Pinkamena dug into the cake, eating it mouthful by mouthful feeling the sweetness begin to sting her tongue on the last bite. It wasn’t enough to fill her up, but was sufficient in staving off any hunger pains. Later, with the light waning, the wagon came abruptly to a stop.

Pinkamena stood up. Having half dozed off along with Marble, she hadn’t noticed any change in scenery since they had left the plains behind. As if by a switch, Marble and Limestone shot up as well, scurrying from the wagon and jumping enthusiastically down into the stone, stretching out their limbs and arching their backs to get the stiffness out of their joints. Pinkamena did the same, only at a much slower pace, more subdued, and not as happy as the twins to be where she was. This was their home, had been their home. To Pinkamena, it was still only a wasteland covered in nothing but quarries and dust, a silo next to an old windmill that separated it from a small farmhouse. The home, her new home, looked old, its thatched hay roof and stubborn wooden supports dry and sprinkled with gray. Perhaps it was only dusted with sediment like everything else. Pinkamena felt the wind brush through her mane, carrying tiny particles in it, no plants around to keep loose dirt from being carried away in the wind. When she hopped down from the wagon she sneezed, breathing in a cloud that kicked up in her face. Marble and Limestone were naturally unfazed and while the dust settled into obvious puffs on the tips of Pinkamena’s pink fur, on their stony pelts the stuff disappeared, barely noticeable. They were meant to be here it seemed and looking around her, Pinkamena was the only source of bright color. Even the leafless trees seemed to have been petrified, turned to rock because that’s what this place was, just rocks.

Igneous and her mother presently came around to the back of the wagon as Nurse Redheart was strapping on her saddlebags and preparing to exit. Igneous motioned for her to stay.

“That won’t be necessary,” He said. “I’ll take you the rest of the way to Ponyville.”

“What?” the nurse looked surprised. “But it’s getting dark and you’ve already gone so far. Are you sure? I can wait until morning.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not very far,” he assured her and glancing at Pinkamena and his other two daughters who had apparently settled beside her, Igneous nodded. Marble and Limestone seemed to know what it meant, but Pinkamena was clueless. Perhaps he was only telling them to behave. Even more than Marble and Limestone as siblings, Pinkamena sensed that getting used to Igneous as a father was going to take a long time.

“Be safe dear,” Igneous’ wife told him as he headed back to the front of the wagon. The stallion tipped his hat and began hitching back up to the front of the cart. He would be fine just like he said. From what Pinkamena could see, the long walk had barely exhausted him or if it did, he showed nothing for it other than a stern will toward his task.

“Well,” Nurse Redheart slid her saddlebags off and sat back down. “I guess this is goodbye then. Enjoy your new family, Pinkie Pie.” she smiled at Pinkamena and Pinkamena nodded back. Of all the ponies, she thought, it was Nurse Redheart who had used her new name first. When it met her ears, she liked the sound of it and was glad to hear it, hoping silently that its use might occur to at least her siblings, who seemed to think Pinkamena Pie was clumsy.

The wagon jerked into motion again and Pinkamena waved back at Nurse Redheart along with her sisters as the mare was scuttled off to wherever Ponyville was. For a moment, she wondered what it was like. Ponyville sounded pleasant, but if it wasn’t very far, did it look just as bleak as where she stood, full of nothing but stone roads and silent houses?

“Come on girls,” Their mother said. The twins followed and Pinkamena did a double take, looking back at the wagon before realizing everypony was moving toward the house without her. She scampered after them, wincing a few times before she managed to catch up, stepping on a group of tiny jagged pebbles that dug into her hoof. It had her hobbling a little by the time they made it past the old rickety fence that surrounded the property that the house stood on. Everything else was fields and they hurt to walk on. The list of things that made her feel like an outsider here was quickly growing. Pinkamena became self conscious of her walk, yet as the others walked flat hoofed she knew that they either knew where to step or their hooves were callous, used to the rough terrain.

When their mother opened the small door to her new house, Pinkamena was greeted right away by the scent of some kind of stew, the aroma of plants simmering in a vegetable broth.

The first room was a small kitchen, or at least what it seemed the Pies used as a kitchen. There was a small table in the middle with three four-legged, wooden stools on both of the long ends of the rectangle. The stove, was nothing more than a chimney, a large pot sitting over a small fire which another pony was stoking with a prodder. The mare was older than Pinkamena, and had the same gray coat as Marble, but her eyes were less round and her mane and tail were a washed violet. They still hung in the straight sectioned locks that all of them seemed to have, but it was longer than Marble or Limestone’s and she was taller than a filly as well.

“I forgot it was soup night,” Marble said moving over to the bubbling cauldron of stew.

“How is it Maud?” Their mother shooed Marble away from the fire.

“Almost ready,” the mare responded. Her voice was clear, yet somehow flat and she said her words bluntly without much tone, the most drastic Pinkamena had encountered so far.

“I should introduce you to your new sister,” their mother turned to Pinkamena. “Maud this is Pinkamena.”

“Hi…” Pinkamena said quietly. There was a pause, Maud looking down at her with a blank expression, a look that both said and gave away nothing. The mare’s body language even seemed blank.

“Hello,” Maud said after an interval and turned, going back to stirring the soup, grabbing a ladle hanging from a hook above the fireplace. Pinkamena stood there awhile while the others dispersed, the twins heading through the one door in the corner of the room, whispering about something.

“If Dad doesn’t hurry he’ll miss soup night,” One of them said. That was all Pinkamena caught before they left. She wasn’t sure what they had the rest of the week that made soup so special, but she considered herself lucky. The orphanage always had plenty of food and this was only another reminder that things would be different here, unimaginably different, but only to her, the outsider. Her mother sat down at the table, picking up a newspaper and proceeding to eye it from top to bottom through the glasses hanging on her nose.

“It’s quiet…” Pinkamena said. She wasn’t sure she had meant to vocalize her thought. Perhaps it was because the disparity in atmosphere from the orphanage to this place was so great that she had to say something.

“Sit,” Without taking her eyes of what she was reading, her mother patted the stool next to her, gesturing for Pinkamena to sit next to her. Pinkamena climbed up the stool, plopped down, and waited. Nothing happened. It was just as silent as it was before. Pinkamena spanned the room with her eyes. There wasn’t even a clock to tick the seconds away. The only noise was the boiling in the kettle and Maud clinking the ladle against the side, still losing an occasional drop to a hiss in the fire.

“Try not to spill any Maud,” their mother said, looking up from her paper.

“I know,” she replied, rather listless. That was the closest they got to a conversation. Eventually it got dark enough that their mother got up and lit a lamp on a small end table in the corner of the room while Maud lit another lantern on the wall next to the door. Standing in the threshold she glanced at the cooking pot.

“It’s ready,” she stated, not a shout, but simple declaration. She walked back to the stew and Marble and Limestone came scampering into the room.

“Phew,” Marble said. “It was getting dark in there. Come on Granny Pie!” She called to somepony and Pinkamena tilted her head before she was startled as a voice she didn’t recognize came in response.

“Ah’ know!” It called back. “Give me ol’ bones a chance kiddo.” Momentarily, an elderly pony came wobbling through the doorway, her joints knotted and her mane and tail a mess of wiry white curls, her fur still a shade of the Pie’s signature gray. Had she been here the entire time?

“Thank ye’ fer makin’ the vittles tonight Maud,” She thanked Maud.

“No problem,” Maud said flatly. She moved past her grandmother and went back into the darkened room, coming back out shortly with a stack of wood bowls, some spoons, and another stool across her back as the door behind Pinkamena opened. She turned and their father was already back, taking his hat off and hanging it on a hook next to the door frame.

“There ye are,” Granny Pie said. “Where ye been Igneous? Down near dark already.”

“Had to take the nurse back to Ponyville,” he responded. Had it been that long, Pinkamena thought? Maybe it really wasn’t that far. Igneous moved to the head of the table where Maud had already placed the extra stool. She was by the cooking pot again, spooning ladlefuls of soup into the bowls one by one and bringing them to the table. It occurred to Pinkamena that she was sitting next to her mother which was Igneous’ wife and where the stallion probably usually sat. She was in his spot. She felt compelled to move, but he sat down at the end of the table without a word as if it was what he always did. A bowl of the steaming stew was placed in front of Pinkamena, Maud watching her longer than she watched the others. Pinkamena kept the mare’s gaze as she went back to the cooking pot, unsure why she was being stared at. Perhaps Maud simply wanted to see the new filly’s reaction to what she was being given. Looking down at the soup though, it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. With everything changing around her, the potatoes carrots, rice and beans suspended in the broth were a welcome consistency. Pinkamena poked at her spoon, unsure if she should start eating. She waited. Eventually everypony else was served and when they were all sitting they seemed to all sit uniformly, their front hooves pressed together in front of them on the table. There was a strange pause, and Pinkamena glanced to all of them, wondering what was going on, but eventually they all lowered their hooves, picked up their spoons and started eating. After a moment of hesitation, Pinkamena did the same.

They ate in relative silence, the most speech, a polite request for seconds, first from Igneous and then from Limestone. Maud stood up both times and poured them a second bowl. It wasn’t until now Pinkamena noticed that, unlike her sisters, Maud had a cutie mark. Unsurprisingly however, Pinkamena hadn’t seen it before because it was a boulder—a rock—nothing elaborate. Pinkamena didn’t know what to think of this family and worse, they were impossible to read. Were they happy? Were they sad? Angry? Giving each other the silent treatment for now? She couldn’t tell and when she finished her soup, her mind free to simply observe, it scared her. She couldn’t fit in here, even her fur suggested she was out of place. Like a balloon in the middle of rocks, her presence stood out when she simply wanted to hide. She imagined that to them she seemed fragile.

Pinkamena didn’t ask for seconds and waited until the table started clearing to touch her bowl again. She handed it to Maud, who watched Pinkamena’s face again as she went. What was happening? Was she being judged? She turned and in the corner of the room, caught sight of her darkened reflection again, brooding just outside the light. She jerked back to the table, locking her eyes on its surface, suddenly afraid. They didn’t know about it like Ms. Sunblossom did. What if it tried to hurt them? What if she tried to hurt them, the way she hurt Ms. Sunblossom? There was a tap on her shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Somepony asked. Pinkamena lifted her head. It was her mother.

“Mm,” Was all Pinkamena uttered, coupled with a head movement just slight enough to be interpreted as a nod.

“Well It’ll be an early morning,” Her mother told her. “Let’s get you to bed.” Pinkamena nodded, fully this time, and, hopping off her stool, followed her mother through the house. She really couldn’t dislike the pies so far. As expressionless as they were, they did seem to care, if only through what they did and the twins liked her at least as a playmate. When she was shown her room, it was a small space, with only a bed and a lantern on a nightstand. But as she stood in the hall as her mother walked in, lighting the lantern, she saw Maud, shuffling her sisters into the same room. They all shared it didn’t they, she thought. She shivered, still more and more the outsider as time went on.

“Turn the light off when you go to sleep,” Her mother said and walked past her as Pinkamena entered the room. She stood there, silent, a sinking loneliness settling in on her. She was scared. She turned to exit the room, but found her double standing in the corner behind the door, just watching. Pinkamena spun around, hopped up into her bed and scurried under her pillow. The lantern provided just enough light to surround the bed and she wanted to be where it was. If she stepped into the darkness she felt like her reflection, with its bladed eyes and despondent attitude, might regain the ability to throw her around. The bed itself was scratchy, a thin sheet the only thing that was separating her from the straw beneath it. She might have taken the time to appreciate that the straw bed was one of the few familiar things here, but she was to afraid to lift her head from her hiding place. Pinkamena kept her eyes clamped shut and hoped she would fall asleep.

Presently, she heard steps outside her room. They were slow, seemed inconsistent, and once outside her door, they stopped. Pinkamena waited, restraining her shaky nerves, but the steps made their way into the threshold.

“Whatdya doin under there filly?” It was Granny Pie, but Pinkamena didn’t move. Of all the ponies why her? She didn’t want to hurt their grandmother. There had apparently been a stool underneath the nightstand as Pinkamena heard Granny Pie drag it across the floor with a squeak and sit down next to the bed.

“How’s our newest pony doin’?” Granny Pie asked. She lifted the pillow and found Pinkamena shaking and covering her eyes.

“I’m scared.” Pinkamena told her.

“Hm? Scared a’ what?” Pinkamena pointed to the darkened corner of the room, where when she took a peek, she could clearly still see herself staring back at her, a looming and ominous presence.

“Why there aint nothing there dear,” Granny Pie insisted.

“Yes there is,” Pinkamena looked up at her grandmother in earnest. “It’s staring at me. It won’t leave me alone.”

“Listen uhh…” Granny Pie hesitated. “Pinkuhhh, Pin…no…oh horseshoes I swore I-”

“Pinkie,” Pinkamena stopped her.

“Right,” Granny Pie said. “Listen Pinkie, I dunno what you see, but this here aint no way to deal with yer fears”

“What?” Pinkamena stopped shaking, curious.

“That’s right Pinkie,” Granny Pie told her. “Ye gotta stand up tall, learn to face yer fears.” She paused nodding wisely. “You’ll see. They can’t hurt ye. Just laugh and make em’ disappear!”

“Laugh?” Pinkamena repeated the word as if she had never heard it before.

“That’s right. Come on. I know ye got a sense uh humor in there somewhere.” Granny Pie began prodding at Pinkamena with a hoof and Pinkamena flinched away from the tickling sensation when her sides were touched.

“Is it here,” poke. “Here?” poke. “Yer a toughin ey? Well I know its somewhere round here.” Pinkamena let out a slight giggle when Granny Pie settled on her left side, poking near Pinkamena’s underbelly because Granny Pie discovered that when she did, Pinkamena gave the biggest twitch. Pinkamena squirmed, trying to get away.

“Everypony has a funny bone you know,” Granny Pie said. Eventually Pinkamena couldn’t help but laugh, snickering as she tried to stifle herself, but unable to get away, stuck on the bed. Pinkamena grabbed the offending hoof with all fours and tugged, wiggling in a fit of forced giggles. Perhaps this was why Marble and Limestone liked to wrestle so much.

“Woop careful,” Granny Pie said. “These ol’ joints can’t take much tuggin.” Pinkamena stopped and let go, sitting up and shifting away.

“Sorry,” She apologized.

“Oh sorry nothin, I’m fine. But ye feel better now dontcha?” Pinkamena managed a smile this time as she nodded, and when she glanced to the corner of the room it didn’t seem quiet as dismal and there was no one there.

“See Pinkie. Aint that simple?”

“Thanks Granny Pie,” She moved to the edge of the bed and leaning out, gave her grandmother a hug.

“Oh, well that’s sweet of ye dear. But I think ye need to get yer rest now.” Pinkamena let go, sinking back to the bed’s surface as Granny Pie rose form the stool. Putting the stool back, Granny Pie made sure Pinkamena was safely under the covers before she turned out the light, making her wobbly way back to the door.

“Sleep tight,” She said. “Pie mornins are early mornins.” Granny Pie left the door to Pinkamena’s room open and in the darkness Pinkamena was finally able to comfortably close her eyes. Of all the things that had happened to her so far, her little bout of giggles had done just as much if not more to ease her spirit than being tucked in by Ms. Sunblossom might have done at the moment. That night when she slept, there was no fire in her dreams or any hideous reflection grinning back at her. There were only thoughts of laughter. Yet for all the thoughts that were there, Pinkamena didn’t know what to do with them. If laughter was such great medicine, how could she use it? If it was capable of getting her one demon to go away, how could she make herself smile? Laugh?

______________

Pinkamena woke up to the sound of hoof steps outside her door. Her eyes fluttered open drowsily. At first she thought it was still night, but when somepony made another pass through the hall, Pinkamena lifted her head and found that the corridor was lit faintly by whatever first light the sun was providing. Pie mornings really were early mornings. Had she lain her head back down, Pinkamena would have fallen back to sleep immediately, but, being compelled and curious, she sat at the edge of her bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning. It was several minutes before she managed to motivate herself to plop down to the floor, stumbling a little before she established balance on all four hooves.

Walking into the kitchen, Pinkamena found all the Pies sitting around the table and chewing on hay that had been formed into square pieces almost like bread. Igneous stood up when she came in and took his hat from the hook on the wall, placing it on his head. One of the sections of hay was suddenly in front of Pinkamena, and she looked to her left to find Maud, handing her what Pinkamena assumed was breakfast.

“We’ll be rotating the rocks from the south field to the east field today,” Igneous said looking at her. He probably only said so for her benefit. “I want you to go with Maud, Pinkamena. She’ll show you what to do.” With that, the stallion turned, opening the front door and letting a chilly breeze sweep in before closing it behind him, heading out into an overcast day, still half dark.

“Eat,” Maud said. Pinkamena grabbed the hay in her mouth and Maud headed back through the halls. Marble and Limestone quickened their pace, shoving down the last of their hay and drinking their water before they scurried out the door after their father. Pinkamena chewed on the stringy food she had been given. It wasn’t bad, just bland. But it was good for a first meal. By the time she drew the last of it into her mouth and chewed it up, Maud came back wearing what looked like a bluish gray work dress, a bit tattered, but soft at least in appearance. Pinkamena found herself wanting to touch it to find out. It was the first full body piece of clothing she had really ever seen a pony wear. But reaching out and touching someone she barely knew seemed weird even if it was her sister. So Pinkamena sat, swallowing her food and staring at Maud.

“What?” Maud asked. Pinkamena didn’t respond, but raised a hoof toward her sister, trying to get a sense for the kind of wordless language on which her new family operated. Maud looked at the appendage and then back to Pinkamena.

“This way,” She said and walked past Pinkamena. Pinkamena watched her go, lowering her hoof and expecting Maud to at least check if she was following. But the mare kept walking, opening the front door and stepping out without looking back. The door shut and Pinkamena scurried from her place after her sister. Granny Pie waved her out the door and Pinkamena managed a quick wave back as she fumbled outside. Pinkamena shivered, unaccustomed to early morning air and the chill of a day that was overshadowed by a layer of bleak clouds. On such days at the orphanage the closest Pinkamena would get to outside would’ve been the front room where she would watch the other fillies play their games while she was huddled away in a corner. Maud was already at the fence when Pinkamena caught sight of her, but she didn’t want to run after her. Fearing the bladed corners of stones under her hooves, Pinkamena’s walk was more of a skip as she maneuvered her way across the yard. Past the fence wasn’t any better, but Pinkamena managed to catch up to Maud, following closely behind her, watching, seeing if she could get a hint at what they might be doing. It was a rock farm. How did it work? You couldn’t grow rocks…could you?

They were far from the house when they stopped, coming to the front of a large domed rock face, a boulder lodged in an indent near its crest. There were piles of smaller and larger stones around it of any shape Pinkamena could have imagined.

“Wait here,” Maud said and moved around the rock face, coming back with a small wagon, already half full with smaller rocks. She set it next to a pile, picked up a large jagged stone and put it on the ground.

“Watch,” She told Pinkamena. Maud lifted her hoof and with one swift stomp, the mare sent cracks spider webbing through the stone and, lifting her leg again, repeated the action and the stone split apart into several smaller chunks. Pinkamena looked up at her sister, half amazed, half confused.

“We take the bad ones and crush them into gravel,” Maud said. “Save the rounder ones and put them in that wagon.” Pinkamena looked behind her, to find another wagon, empty. She turned back to her sister who, apparently satisfied with her explanation, turned to smashing more of the stones, brushing the fragmented pieces into piles with her tail and then scooping them up and putting them in the wagon. Pinkamena stood for a moment, unsure what to do. She turned to a pile of rocks next to her and pushed a stone off the top that looked like it fit whatever criteria Maud was using. Pinkamena didn’t know what made one rock worse than another or what a “bad” one was, but this one looked disfigured enough. It plopped into the dust at her feet, kicking up a small cloud that smelled a little like rain water. Pinkamena gave it a poke, watching Maud give another stomp. Pinkamena could feel slight tremors from it tickle the underside of her hooves. Doing her best to imitate Maud, Pinkamena stood over the rock she had chosen, pausing to eye it the way her sister did as if she might find its weak point. She let out a little grunt and, as fiercely as she could, forced her hoof down. It hurt. Pinkamena stifled herself but hobbled around in a circle, gritting her teeth. There wasn’t even a chip in the stone to show for her efforts. In frustration, Pinkamena reared back on her hind legs, using both front hooves to bash at it. She kept stomping and stomping and stomping, doing nothing. Just how strong was Maud? How weak was she?

“Stop,” a gray hoof moved in front of her and Pinkamena halted, looking up to find Maud standing over her. Pinkamena looked down and crossed her front hooves. It was humiliating, watching Maud crack through rocks like they were stale bread and then trying it herself, only for the rock to go farther toward breaking her, remaining resolutely unfazed under her weak legs.

“You should gather the loose rocks and stack them,” Maud suggested.

“Where?” Pinkamena pouted, as if she were challenging Maud to find her a task that she could actually do.

“Everywhere,” Maud stated and gestured around them to rest of the field. There were rocks scattered everywhere, how was she supposed to know which ones to stack and which ones were just part of the terrain? No, she thought, it was demeaning. Maud knew Pinkamena couldn’t do what she needed to and was relegating her to a lower position because the filly was too weak. Why did her new father have to send her along with this mare? She would have fit in far better with Marble and Limestone. Then again, she imagined them doing the same, smashing rocks with ease because that’s just what they did. Pinkamena was the weak link.

“No!” Pinkamena yelled at Maud, jumping on top of the rock. “I’m not useless! I can- Get this!” Pouncing on the stone, Pinkamena brought herself down with all the force she could muster, every smack recoiling through her joints. But she didn’t stop. She kept hitting it and hitting it, wanting the rock to break like it should, like it was supposed to.

“Stop,” Maud said again, lifting Pinkamena up and away from the stone. Pinkamena flailed in Maud’s grip, squirming her way to get off the mare’s hoof.

“No!” Pinkamena started crying. “It’s supposed to break.” She kicked off Maud’s leg and tumbled onto the ground. She lay there, feeling spots on her side where there certainly going to be scrapes.

“Rocks don’t just break,” Maud told her. “Are you okay?”

“No…” Pinkamena sobbed, but before Maud could approach her, she stood up, brushing herself off and hobbling away. Her right hoof felt sore.

“Where are you going?” Maud asked.

“To stack rocks,” Pinkamena snapped. She waited a few moments and looked back. Maud had turned away and gone back to her pile of rocks.

“Tch,” Pinkamena sunk down and cried. She knew they didn’t care. Their expressions were nothing like Ms. Sunblossom’s, her face always full of care even when she was sad. This family showed nothing, said nothing. And when they did speak, it was flat and without feel. Only Granny Pie seemed to care, but she wasn’t here. If Pinkamena was going to be expected to work the fields every day with the other daughters, she would hardly see her. Pinkamena felt her chest tighten. At the orphanage she had simply been solitary, this, here where she lay, was loneliness. Pinkamena lifted her head, and wiping her eyes, saw Maud grab a white cloth from the wagon, slinging it over her back and walking back toward her.

Before Pinkamena could think about it, her tail started twitching, violently. It spasmed and Pinkamena grabbed it, trying to get it to stop, but it started shaking her whole body. A snap met her ears and a sound of rock grinding against rock. She looked up. The boulder at the top of the rock face tipped slowly forward.

“Maud!” Pinkamena yelled. There was no time. She had to act. Pinkamena threw her herself into a gallop watching the boulder gain speed as gravity worked into its favor. She wouldn’t make it. In an act of desperation, she reached up grabbing the word off this page and using it launch herself forward. It was mind bending, even for her. The thing in her hooves was nothing that had been there before, a product of somehow reaching through a void and grabbing the one thing convenient enough to speed herself up. A spring.

Pinkamena collided with Maud, forcing both of them into a tumble. With a booming thud the boulder slammed into the ground just shy of their tails. Maud skidding to a halt on her back with Pinkamena on top of her. Several smaller rocks clicked about in the aftermath, falling in the boulder’s wake, gravel trickling down from where it used to be. Lifting her face from Maud’s chest, Pinkamena sat up, staring at her sister, who was shaking the dust away from her eyes.

“Did you…catch me?” Pinkamena asked. It was the only thing she could think of. With everything happening how did Maud even have time for that kind of consideration? Maud nodded.

“That rock has been up there for years,” Maud said. “How did you know its was going to fall?” Maud turned her head, looking at the strange metallic spring Pinkamena had summoned up from nowhere. “Where did you get that?” Pinkamena had no idea how to answer either question. She looked to her tail. That kind of twitching had happened before. She recalled when the picture had fallen from Ms. Sunblossom’s dresser and how she had caught it without thinking. This felt very similar.

“I…don’t know…” Pinkamena said. Maud lifted Pinkamena off her, rolled over, and stood up. Both of them were covered in all the dust that hung in the air. Maud shook it off like a dog when she got to her feet, the gravel falling from her mane in a puffy haze.

“Are you alright?” She asked. Pinkamena nodded. “Why were you crying?” Pinkamena thought for a second, but only the truth came to her mind.

“I was lonely,” Pinkamena said, trying to imitate Maud’s bluntness. Maud took a step forward and Pinkamena suddenly found herself in an embrace. What? She didn’t get it. They all seemed so distant, especially Maud. So why this? What was this hug about? Was it simply gratitude for being saved from a falling boulder that motivated Maud? If it was, then why did she hold on so long? Why was it so soft? Pinkamena looked up at Maud and perhaps as subtly as possible, her sister smiled. Almost as an impulse, Pinkamena grinned back at her. A warmth seemed to leap from inside her and for a moment everything looked brighter. Under the aura of that small smile, she was no outsider; she was a friend.

Pinkamena leapt against her sister, returning her hug with the biggest one she could manage. A giggle escaped her and just like the night before, she felt her sorrows dissolve in the sound of it. But part of it seemed selfish. She laughed, but Maud didn’t. Pinkamena wanted her to, but as she released her sister, Maud’s smile lasted only a few more moments, vanishing as slightly as it appeared.

“You’re weird,” She said, still in her listless tone.

“I’m Pinkie Pie,” Pinkamena replied. Maud stared back, tilting her head as if she didn’t see a difference.

“You won’t fit in here,” Maud said.

“What?” Pinkamena wilted, lowering her ears.

“That’s good,” Maud continued. “We could use somepony who’s different. It gets boring sometimes.” Pinkamena perked up.

“Do you feel lonely sometimes?” She asked.

“Not with all the rocks around,” Maud said.

“Huh?” Pinkamena tilted her head. Was she really the weird one? Maud turned to her wagon and, scooping up one last pile of stones, hitched herself up to it.

“I’m taking these to the east field,” Maud told her. “You should stack the rocks, not smash them.” Pinkamena nodded and watched Maud go, heading off to do whatever it was the Pies did when they rotated the rocks. Pinkamena wasn’t sure. All she knew right now was that she was apparently supposed to stack some of the stones scattered around the south field. It seemed rather daunting, looking at the blank expanse thinking she had to get all of them into groups. There were so many, some that were apparently good and some that were apparently bad. The only qualification Pinkamena had been given for whether one was good or not was if it was round. With that in mind, Pinkamena devoted herself to stacking only the jagged rocks for Maud, picking ones she figured her sister would say needed to be smashed. The large boulder that had nearly toppled onto them was round enough, but Pinkamena wasn’t even sure Maud knew what to do with it.

Pinkamena rolled, or flipped the flatter rocks, into piles, pushing them along with her nose. It seemed like an hour or so went by before she had a pile that was even as tall as herself, the minutes under the monochrome sky dragging on with no way to tell how the time past other than that the dark gray sky had gotten brighter. The sun was up there somewhere behind the veil, its light half lost under the gloomy layers.

Pinkamena had expected Maud to come back, but also wasn’t sure where or how far away the east field even was. By herself, Pinkamena imagined that this was what it was normally like for Maud. If she wasn’t here, the mare would have been by herself and Pinkamena saw just how boring it could be. Yet Maud had seemed to enjoy what she did, at least in her own way. Pinkamena couldn’t explain it, but when Maud had left with her wagon, the mare had seemed happier than before despite wearing her usual blank expression. But after Pinkamena laughed, everything looked like it got brighter for a while. Maybe it was just her.

Rolling another stone to the base of the pile with her snout, Pinkamena pushed it up and it clicked against its counterparts, settling down on its flat side. Looking around, she didn’t see Maud anywhere. A hint of worry past over her, but it was short lived. Out of nowhere, Pinkamena felt the ground shake, a low pulsing rumble vibrating the rubble beneath her. A massive wave of color hissed through the sky, a brilliant, glowing band of hues that seemed to dissolve the cloud cover like solvent dissolved dust. Pinkamena was hit head on with a wave of air, the wind barreling past her, pulling at her skin and waving her mane about like a crazed flag. The flash of light soared away overhead and in a single beat it all stopped. Pinkamena felt a release like a static shock and when the wind stopped, her mane and tail got all frazzled, ending up in a messy ball of pink curls.

She stood wide eyed for a moment in shock, watching as a rainbow arched its way over their house in the wake of the blast. It was beautiful. Pinkamena had never seen one so clear before, nor ever seen something like the massive explosion of color that had just passed over her head. Yet she wasn’t scared. Pinkamena was happy. She was overcome with an inexplicable amount of joy, grinning up at the ribbon of color with the widest smile she had ever smiled. She had never felt joy like this before. The clouds were gone and the sun was shining, and Pinkamena was happy. Her loving caretaker wasn’t even here and somehow she was happy.

“This is the best day ever!” She leapt into the air, sure that the whole word was sharing in her joy. “I watched the sun blossom Ms. Sunblossom!” She shouted. She heard her, Pinkamena told herself; she had to have heard her. She twirled around in circles on one hoof. The Pies! She thought. They needed to see it; they needed to look up and see this beautiful rainbow and smile. They all needed to smile, not just Granny Pie or Maud, but all of them and she wanted to see it. It was the only thing that could make her happier right now.

“Everypony!” She shouted. “You have to-huh?” In the midst of her spinning, Pinkamena came across somepony sitting behind her with their back turned. It was that little pink filly with the straight falling mane, dark and gloomy still, already looking like something from the past. She wasn’t afraid of it though. Everything around it was so bright and colorful that she knew it couldn’t hurt her. And suddenly she understood what Ms. Sunblossom had been trying to tell her. This was her, the other girl.

“Hey,” She said. “Look up, the sky is wonderful!” Pinkamena approached her old reflection, but it turned and spat at her.

“Oh…” She frowned. “Why so gloomy.” This was her challenge, Pinkamena thought. If she could get this pony to smile, she could get anypony to smile. The Pies wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Tell me Pinkamena,” It said. “What did you think of me?

“You scared me,” She answered.

“Ha!” The figure scoffed. “Everyone is afraid of the truth aren’t they?”

“Is that what you think you are?”

“I’ve always told the truth!” It yelled at her. “Even about Archer. You saw how his friends huddled together with their little memorial. You’ll see, he’ll be the angel I meant him to be.”

“You hurt a lot of ponies you know.”

“What do I care!? They’ll find a new friend and Ms. Sunblossom will find a new daughter!”

“You can’t replace a friend silly. They’re one of a kind.”

“Psh. Everyone wants to be one of a kind until they realize how lonely it is…”

“Are you lonely?” Pinkamena asked, stepping forward.

“I don‘t know…” It lowered its head. “I don’t know what to do anymore. You beat me. I had so many things I wanted, so many to prove wrong. I wanted to show the world that they knew nothing about anything, but really…I was the one who knew nothing. I am idiot Pinkamena. A fool. Now I’ve lost everything…even my own identity. I don’t even know who I am…”

“Sure you do,” Pinkamena assured her. “Aster.” The figure’s head shot up.

“How did you…” The figure trailed off staring at her.

“Hehe,” Pinkamena giggled at her success. “I knew it was you.”

“How long…have you known…?”

“Oh just a few minutes,” Pinkamena answered. “But it's you isn’t it? You’re Ms. Sunblossom’s daughter!" Pinkamena jumped, but stopped, tilting her head. "What…What happened?” The figure looked back her piteously, its eyebrows upturned, its face pained and regretful.

“I did horrible things…” It said. “Then I made you do the same. I made the same mistake twice just to prove I was right…even Mom was afraid of me…”

“Not anymore,” Pinkamena smiled. “You know what she told me?” She leaned in and gave Aster a nudge, waiting for her to guess.

“Shut up…” The figure growled. “I don’t want to hear-”

“She asked me to forgive you!”

“No!” Aster yelled, pushing Pinkamena away. “Don’t taunt me with your cheap talk! I’ve killed ponies! Killed them and been happy about it. I wanted it to happen and I carried it out. Don’t talk to me about forgiveness. ”

“Ms. Sunblossom said she love’s you,” Pinkamena approached. “Very much.”

“That does nothing f-” She stopped, interrupted as Pinkamena threw her hooves around her. Aster frowned.

“You know it probably looks like you’re hugging a rock right?”

“I don’t care,” Pinkamena gripped Aster harder. “See Aster, I’ve learned so much. You gave me an incredible gift that I haven’t even seen the surface of yet. I can sense things before they happen just like you wanted. You know what I’m gonna use it for?”

“Humor me,” Aster rolled her eyes, trying in vain to wriggle free from Pinkamena.

‘Exactly,” Pinkamena answered. “I’m gonna use it to make everypony smile. Smile just as big as I smiled at that rainbow. I want to hear them laugh because it makes me happy. Every time Walter made me laugh, it made him smile and every time Ms. Sunblossom smiled I felt like it was all I ever needed. Thank you, I know what I need now. You see, you wanted to take and take from everypony and it made you sad and that’s what happens to anypony when all they do is take and never give back. I’m gonna give back to the world Aster and There’s not gonna be any gloomy ponies while I’m around. I can’t keep this joy to myself, I want to spread it as far as I can. Pinkie Pie will be friends with everypony. You’ll see! I’m gonna march over to that town called Ponyville and I’m gonna make friends.”

“Right,” Aster said. “You go ahead and have your fun. I am a dead mare.”

“There you go again,” Pinkamena looked at the figure sternly, exaggerated a down turned lip. “You keep saying how everyone loves to talk about death.”

“I’m not wrong…”

“No,” Pinkamena smiled, shaking Aster affectionately. She swore she could feel the reflection against her fur. Was it warm? Was that just her? Was it all in Pinkamena’s head? “But you’ve got it all backwards silly. You lost sight of the reason. We talk about death because it humbles us, it makes us realize we only have so much time and that time is valuable. But that’s it. You only ever talk about death as a result Aster. You’ve forgotten what comes before it.”

“Shut up!” Aster yelled, pushing harder at Pinkamena, struggling visibly now to get away.

“You’re scared aren’t you?” Pinkamena held onto her.

“No!” Aster stared to cry. “What do I have to afraid of? I’m already dead. Now let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

“I won’t,” Pinkamena asserted, her grip obstinate, firm but not crushing.

“Why?” Aster stopped struggling, her eyes full of water as she started quivering in Pinkamena’s hooves. “Why are you torturing me like this? Just let me go!”

“No,” Pinkamena reasserted. “You’re my friend.”

“Friend?” Aster shook her head. “No… You can’t be friends with a monster.”

“Monster?” Pinkamena questioned. “Then we’re the same!” Pinkamena smiled wider. Aster reared back, looking like she was going to strike her. She cried out, throwing her front hooves forward, swinging madly, yet landing fiercely, but neatly around Pinkamena.

“What are you talking about,” She sobbed, head over Pinkamena’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything.”

“We’re in the same body Aster,” Pinkamena stated. “What you did, I did. I thought I was a monster too. No, I thought I was worse. But you know what?” Pinkamena brought Asters head forward and held her at hooves length, looking her in the eye. “Ms. Sunblossom forgave me.”

“She’s a fool…” Aster looked away.

“I forgive you too,” Pinkamena smiled.

“Tch…” Aster sniffled. “You’re both fools.”

“This is the only way you know,” Pinkamena said. “the only way I can make up for all the sadness we’ve cause is to spread joy and spread it as far and happily as I can. You were right about one thing Aster. Equestria will love us and we’ll love Equestria and all its ponies tenfold! We’ll have parties and see so many smiles! I’ll make so many friends. But I’ll never forget the first one.” Pinkamena raised a hoof and tapped Aster on the nose. “Aster Sunblossom”

“How can you even say that after what I did to you…”

“Because I forgive you.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“It’s the only way to stop the cycle. I want you to be happy Aster. I want everypony to be happy. Because just like death, joy humbles us. It reminds us that we’re alive. I want you to know that feeling too.”

“I don’t have anything to start from,” Aster told her. “My happiness is spent.”

“So go find more!” Pinkamena exclaimed

“Shut up!” Aster shoved Pinkamena, finally mustering the strength to push her away. “You sound like a naïve child!” Pinkamena stayed where she was.

“Silly pony,” She said. “Weren’t you the one who said children are the smartest?”

“Don’t cite me!” It spat. There was silence, the breeze blowing across the rocks around them. It was peaceful and Pinkamena was determined to make this mare share in that peace, no matter how stubborn she was.

“Hey…” Pinkamena started, softly. “Your mom misses you…you know?

“So what?” Aster hung her head. “What of it? I can’t go back and neither can you. So what if she misses me? I can’t see her even if I miss her too!”

“Do you miss her?” Pinkamena asked, approaching Aster again and putting a hoof on her shoulder.

“Shut up,” She bawled. “I made my mistakes. I wasn’t wise like I thought I was…” The filly collapsed onto Pinkamena and broke into sobs. “I’m sorry… so sorry.”

“Don’t you want a happy ending?” Pinkamena asked.

“You’ve seen what I’ve done,” It choked. “How can I be happy?”

“Smile,” Pinkamena grinned. Aster looked up at Pinkamena, the sun sparkling off the tears on her face. For a moment, Pinkamena swore the mare’s fur was tan, that instead of looking just like her, she looked like Aster, glowing mane and all. She looked so much like her mother that it hurt a little, but Pinkamena didn’t cry.

“You cheesy dolt…” There it was, genuine and slight. But Aster couldn’t seem to stop it. She smiled, perhaps only at Pinkamena’s ridiculousness. But if that’s what it took, then that’s what she would do.

“I did it!” Pinkamena shouted, bouncing around the filly and spinning herself in a victory twirl. “I’m so happy I could fly! Oh c’mere you!” Pinkamena gave the girl another big hug, squishing their faces together, relishing in both of their smiles.

“Heh…You’re stupid,” Aster chuckled lightly. “Unbelievably stupid.”

“But you smiled!” Pinkamena twirled her in a circle, spinning around the pebbles in the dirt, kicking up dust. She was warm, Pinkamena realized. This warmth she felt against her was Aster’s. She wasn’t cold or soulless. Aster was a little filly through and through, just like her.

“Alright enough,” The filly said. “That’s enough fluffiness for me.” Aster pushed herself away again, less forcefully. This time, Pinkamena let her go gently.

“So now that we’re totally best buds…” Pinkamena grinned.

“Don’t push your luck,” Aster said. “You’ll never get rid of me you know. The spell was permanent. Every time your tail twitches or your ears flop, you’ll have me to blame.”

“To thank,” Pinkamena corrected her.

“Whatever…” Aster trailed off. “Hm,” She seemed to sink into thought, staring at the ground and smiling nostalgically at some inner image she saw painted in the stones.

“What is it?” Pinkamena asked.

“My Mom…” Aster said. “She’s too amazing…I made her afraid of me, made her lose you…and she’s still standing, still taking care of orphans like she hasn’t been torn apart.”

“She’ll be okay,” Pinkamena affirmed. “She’s Ms. Sunblossom. Like you said, she’s amazing.”

“You have to go back one day,” Aster said. “You have to go back and let her now that…that I accept her forgiveness, but…I had to go…”

“Of course!” Pinkamena smiled.

“Promise?”

“I thought you didn’t like promises?” Pinkamena tilted her head.

“Please?” Aster implored.

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” Pinkamena put a hoof to one of her eyes.

“What?” Aster raised an eyebrow.

“Pinkie Promise!” Pinkamena exclaimed.

“That’s good enough,” Aster said. “I suppose…I trust you.”

“We’ll see Ms. Sunblossom again someday,” Pinkamena assured her.

“Goodbye Pinkie,” The filly lowered her head with a faint smile. Pinkamena giggled and ruffled the filly’s mane with her hoof. It was done. The mare before her was no longer her reflection, no longer just a voice.. All the way from her mane, curled at the ends, to her light tan fur, she was Aster Sunblossom, Emese’s daughter. But her presence was thin, fading into the sunlight like a morning mist. She was at peace and her warmth faded under her tan-orange mane. It suited her, Pinkie Pie thought. She liked her own the way it was now. It was so poofy and fluffy that it was perfect. She wanted it to stay that way. Pinkamena turned and bounced away across the rock fields, yelling happily as she went, breathing in fresh, clean air.

“Goodbye Aster! Congratulations on your happy ending!” She kept bouncing and when she turned away that was the last time she ever saw that little filly. But her tail gave a twitch and she hopped to the left as a rock came falling out of the sky. You’re with me all the way Aster. Now let’s make everypony smile. Pinkie Pie had made Aster smile and that was all that mattered to her. The Pies were next. Pinkie Pie skipped her way back to the farmhouse under a vibrant, blue sky and ringing out clearly in the warm sunny rays, she heard the chime of a bell.

Fin...

Congratulations, it seems you've made it to end of the story. I sincerely thank you for both taking the time to not only read this, but finish it as well. This is one of the first long works I've ever finished and one of the few I can actually say I'm proud to have written. I hope it was worth your time. My gratitude also goes to those who helped in the forging of this story (you know who you are). Also to anyone who made the journey all the way here, don't be afraid to comment and tell me what you thought. I'd very much like to know. Until then, keep on keeping on.

PART 1: Away the 'Mare

Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare’s Precognition

Part 1: Away the ‘Mare

There are only two things about this nightmare that are consistent. Fire. Everything is always burning, houses, trees, lakes, castles, wherever they happen to be. And then there’s her. The one image, the one piece of scenery, a stain on an eerie image. A pink mare just like her is always standing in the blaze, but it doesn’t flinch. It stares at her with a mocking gaze, its pupils shrunk to needle size, demonic against the bloodshot whites of its eyes. Flesh…there’s always that smell too. It stings her nose, she can’t get away. No matter how hard the filly tries, her hooves are embedded in place like the roots of a tree. Whatever is holding her will not let go, will not let her look away. Perhaps it is that stare, that glowing white lock against a backdrop of red with blood painted under its eyelids. It’s her spitting image, only it looks older than her, smarter than her, colder than her.

“Eheehehehe…” And it laughs. It’s always laughing, but in a different way every time. Sometimes it is a joking giggle and others, like this time, it is maniacal. If the crimson splotches on its cheeks are tears, they are never tears of sadness. They are gleeful, extravagant, and even though there is no way to be certain, the filly, anchored stiff by the sight of herself so broken, gets the feeling that not all of the red drops on the mare’s fur are its own. The crackling snaps of the fire get louder as if trying to drown out the sound of the mare’s giddiness. But it can’t. Its laughing echoes like they’re in a hollow iron tunnel, its grating noise enough to rust the walls until they crumbled around them. But the crumbling is why it laughs. The buildings break and collapse under the blaze and the crunching of bodies amuses it.

The filly squirms in place, suddenly conscious of her own body. She still can’t move and finishing its laughter, the mare in the fire ceases its smiling. Its face darkens and its pupils dilate. It seemed happy a moment ago, but this new shadow over its face is sinister and even though the mare’s mouth doesn’t move the filly hears, as if the air is murmuring the mare’s thoughts across to her, a whispered phrase float across the breeze. The sand below her hisses in the gust and just as the breathed words meet her ears they appear before her, written in the dirt: Mors ultima…

She doesn’t know what they mean. A harsh crack sends the bloodied mare’s face before her back to a vicious smile. But the mare isn’t smiling at her anymore, but at something behind her. Her knees tremble and suddenly her nerves can feel, she’s cold. She turns her head. Her eyes are met with the sight of blazing pillar scorching the wind down toward her. It strikes. She hears the crunch and-

The filly flails from her sheets into an upright position. She was panting, but shivering. She looked around. Nopony else was left in the sleeping room. All the beds were empty, but the thick still drawn curtains prevented the sun from filling the room, leaving everything dim and shadowy. She sighed, trying to calm her breaths. It had just been that nightmare again. She didn’t know how many times it had repeated week after week and she might have used the excuse that she had lost count had she ever started counting at all. But there was something undeniably special about this dream. Every time she escaped it, the room was empty. It was a vision of hell that reserved itself only for her. And why not? She was the only one who survived the fire.

Thump thump

The filly jerked in fright, drawing the covers up as if they might save her from what was at the door.

“Pinkamena?” came a compassionate voice. The filly relaxed, tossing the covers aside lightly and shuffling herself out of her scratchy hay bed.

“Pinkamena? All of the other fillies and foals have already eaten,” The voice continued speaking through the door “Are you coming out for breakfast?” Pinkamena plopped to the wooden floor and brushed her straight pink mane to the side with a hoof. Plodding across the floor, she made her way to the door and stretching her small body reached up to the handle and gave it a pull. The latch clicked as she thumped back down to all fours. It was enough to get the door ajar. She reached around it timidly with one hoof and pulled it the rest of the way open. She was greeted with a flood of light blocked only by the figure of Ms. Sunblossom. Pinkamena squinted, lowering her head like a recluse that was used to living in a cave. The dim loneliness of the sleeping room certainly seemed to fit her better.

“Oh there’s my heavy sleeper,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled cheerfully. “Would you like some breakfast? I saved you some.” Pinkamena looked up at her caretaker without raising her head, moving only her eyes.

“Yes please…” She nearly whispered.

“Well let’s get you to the kitchen then,” Ms. Sunblossom held her perpetual cheeriness and stepped to the side, motioning for Pinkamena to follow her.

“Okay…” Pinkamena scampered out of the sleeping room and stuck close to Ms. Sunblossom’s side as they walked. Any closer and they might have tripped over each other’s hooves. Ms. Sunblossom was a kind mare, a small earth pony, but certainly bigger than Pinkamena. Her fur was a light buff tan, a cutie mark of a soft petaled yellow sunflower on her flank. Her mane, striped with the same color along with a deeper fuller orange, curled at the ends giving her an elegant look despite her rather rustic ways. Emese Sunblossom was her full name, but everypony simply called her Ms. Sunblossom. She was head of the halls that Pinkamena walked with her through. It was all wooden, a bit creaky and old in places, yet for how large it was and how many hidden corners of it there were, it maintained a rather homey feel. Pinkamena was unsure if this made her happy or if it was what made her feel sick at heart sometimes. She gazed up at her golden hostess as she trotted cheerfully along, clinging to her side like she was afraid of being outside the protective aura Ms. Sunblossom gave off.

The kitchen was one of the largest rooms, second only to the front lobby area that would have been a grand place to receive guests had it not become a play area for all the other fillies on rainy days. The kitchen, however, was full of tables and stools all of knotted and dried wood, their tops blanketed with tattered, but clean white, cotton table cloths. It’s outer perimeter was lined with countertops and serving tables, the cooks coming and going with meal times. Now, most of the were in the back area cleaning and preparing for the next meal in the one tin, metallic looking area that Pinkamena had seen in the whole place because it was where all the stoves and cooking supplies were located. Ms. Sunblossom led her to the end of one of the tables and told her to sit. Pinkamena nodded wordlessly and hopped up onto a stool at a corner. She immediately hopped down and moved to the other side as the sun shone into her eyes through the windows in the tall slanted roof above them.

As soon as her head peaked up over the table her eyes were greeted with a bowl of carrot stew, still steaming. She stared into it longingly.

“I kept it warm for you,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Now wait just a moment and I’ll-oh…” She had probably meant to go get Pinkamena a spoon at least, but before she could finish the little filly took the bowl in her two front hooves and buried her face in it. She devoured the softened warm carrots greedily, lapping up the peas and diced bits of celery in the syrupy broth with her tongue. The carrots were sweet, honey glazed and the peas had a good firm mushiness to them, while the celery though warm maintained much of its planty crunchiness. She took enough in each time to fill her mouth, chewing it all up into a blend that was wonderfully flavorful and spongy on her tongue and went down with a single satisfying gulp. She licked the bowl clean and when she finished looked to the side. Ms. Sunblossom was smiling brightly at her with one hoof on the table, a napkin over it. Pinkamena set the bowl down shyly and pushed it away, taking her gaze away from her caretaker and looking down at the table instead.

“Thanks…” She mumbled. A layer of the thick broth still lingered around her mouth and Ms. Sunblossom giggled in amusement.

“Oh of course,” She replied. “It looks like you were hungry. Here.” She brought the napkin forward and wiped Pinkamena’s face clean.

“Mmph…” Pinkamena uttered uncomfortably. She licked her lips as the napkin was lifted away primarily to re-wet them, but also to check if there was anything left of what she had inadvertently saved for later.

“Sorry,” She said. “I’ll be cleaner next time.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Ms. Sunblossom replied, folding the napkin and setting it aside. “You’re a growing mare. Now do you want to join the other fillies?”

“I…I don’t wanna go outside.”

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom walked around the corner of the table and lifted Pinkamena from her stool, putting her down beside her. “You’ve been hiding long enough. There are plenty of little ponies who want to be your friend.” She gave her a nudge. Pinkamena looked up at her, unsure. “Come on.”

“A-alright…” Pinkamena gave in at this last urging. She stuck close to Ms. Sunblossom all the way through the halls again, into the large front room, and even as she opened the door. The sunlight was still bright, but it took less adjusting to this time and after a few moments of blindness Pinkamena was greeted with a yard full of fillies and foals running about, throwing frisbees, and a few playing a game of foursquare in a box they had painted in the grass. The other adults were scattered among them, but Pinkamena had never bothered to remember or even learn their names. The breeze was warm, the sky nearly cloudless, the grass a lush green, and the distant mountains gave the whole scene a panoramic feel. Yet Pinkamena still cowered behind Ms. Sunblossom in the doorway as if the grass might stretch out and devour her if she stepped outside.

“Aw,” She chuckled. “Out here dear. You’re not going to make any friends right there.” Ms. Sunblossom put a hoof around the little pink filly and scooted her out into the lawn. Pinkamena didn’t move, brushing her hoof around in the grass. “Go on,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her. Pinkamena tried to sink away, but despite how gentle Ms. Sunblossom had been with her, the mare’s hoof around her small body held in her place unshakingly. Pinkamena turned her head back to her caretaker.

“I-I can’t do this,” She looked away.

“Yes you can,” Ms. Sunblossom assured her. “You just need to say hi. Look there goes somepony.” She gestured to a passing foal running across the lawn apparently excited about where he was going. He tripped presently and flopped onto his chin into the grass as he was passing them only a few feet away.

“Woops,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Careful Archy.” The foal got up and after shaking himself off turned to them.

“Oh hey Miss Sunblossom,” He greeted in his coltish voice. He was a small, spunky pegasus with peachy fur, a dark blue pooffy mane, and a tail that was no bigger than a carrot leaf poking out of the ground. His cutie mark was a baseball bat with the small white stitched ball next to it.

“Are we in a hurry?” Ms. Sunblossom teased him. “You should be careful not to trip over your own hooves mister.”

“Oh… heheh,” He glanced around shyly, brushing the back of his head with a hoof. “Me and some of the other fillies were gonna play baseball though!” He brightened and Pinkamena felt a nudge against her back push her forward an inch.

“Oh…uh…hmm,” Pinkamena started but trailed off. His eyes moved to her and he tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“Now Pinkamena you can’t mumble,” Ms. Sunblossom encouraged her. “Go on.”

“Um…hello,” She managed, trying to hide her face behind her mane because she couldn’t hide behind Ms. Sunblossom.

“Uh hi?” He seemed rather confused.

“Archy this is Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom persisted. “Pinkamena this is Archy.”

“Well my name’s actually Archer, but you can call me Archy if you want to.” He grinned at her nervously. She brought her face out from behind her drape of a mane and tried her best to look him in the eye, taking awkward glances to the side when his innocent gaze seemed like it was too much.

“Hi…Archer…” She felt like a toddler trying to learn a new word as she said his name.

“That’s right,” Ms. Sunblossom interjected. “Archy, Pinkamena here was wondering if she could play with you.” He looked at her as if her proposal took a second to dawn on him, but he immediately brightened, gaining a sudden boost of confidence now that he knew what he was talking about.

“Oh of course,” He replied energetically. “Odd numbered teams are always a pain. You could make it even!” He smiled at her.

“You see Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom looked down at her and ruffled her mane. “He’s more than happy to let you join. All you have to do is ask.” Pinkamena was still unsure of herself and found her eyes fixed on the colt’s cutie mark.

“I don’t have a cutie mark…” She murmured mostly to herself.

“Oh,” Archer followed her gaze and looked at the mark on his flank before turning back to her. “That doesn’t matter. We’re all-”

“Momma…” Pinakmena started saying before he finished.

“Huh?” He stopped, puzzled by her. Pinkamena remembered her mother telling her about cutie marks, that when a pony discovered their special talent or their purpose, they would get their cutie mark. She didn’t have hers yet and seeing Archer with his made her feel as though she had missed her chance. Who was going to guide her to finding her special talent, she had no family. She was alone, without a future, without certainty.

“How…” Pinkamena stopped herself, finding it hard to speak without her voice cracking. She wanted to ask him how he got his cutie mark and perhaps Ms. Sunblossom would be happy to see her being social. But she felt suddenly embarrassed for looking weak in front of Archer, but had nowhere to hide, so she simply trembled in place.

“Hey,” He seemed on some level to understand her. “Don’t-” He took a step forward, but before he could say any more Pinkamena fell into a fit of tears like an infant.

“Wh- Hey,” Her crying in turn upset him and he backed away with the feeling it was somehow his fault. “Stop,” He told her, his own eyes getting a bit foggy. “Ms. Sunblossom what did I do?”

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said firmly. It was no use. The filly kept crying and wiggled her way back behind the mare, squirming her way under the hoof that had held her in place.

“Hey,” Archer called to her. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Archy,” Ms. Sunblossom assured as she turned back to him after making sure Pinkamena wasn’t going any further. “You’re alright. Run along and play.”

“Is she okay?” He asked.

“I’ll take care of her. You just make sure you and your friends have fun playing baseball.”

“A-alright.” He turned away tentatively, keeping his eye on the filly cowering behind her caretaker. He took a step, hesitated, took one look back, but then turned away and continued running across the lawn.

“Take care,” Ms. Sunblossom called after him. She turned around, pulling her hind leg from the grip of the pony crying into it. She frowned at Pinkamena as the filly began sobbing into her own hooves. Ms. Sunblossom picked Pinkamena up in one hoof, moved back inside, set her down, and turned and closed the door firmly with a damning thud that shut out the sun. She faced Pinkamena and glared down at her.

“Pinkamena Diane,” She said fiercely, but without raising her voice. “You stop your bawling right now.” Pinkamena stopped immediately, sniffling the rest of her tears away and looking timidly back at Ms. Sunblossom who was clearly upset with her.

“That’s better,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Crying isn’t going to get you anywhere. Now why didn’t you go play baseball with that colt? He was nothing but nice to you.” Pinkamena shifted uncomfortably under the angry eyes that were normally kind to her.

“He…I don’t know,” She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “He just reminded me of…home…somehow.” Ms. Sunblossom lowered her ears and sighed. She sat down beside Pinkamena and put a hoof around her, drawing her close. Pinkamena leaned against Ms. Sunblossom’s fur and lowered her head.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said. The filly didn’t move. “Pinkamena look at me.” The filly lifted her head slowly. Everything about Ms. Sunblossom seemed to draw her in. She felt encased by her eyes, her mane that almost dropped down to the top of her head, and the hoof across her back. She wanted to stay there, sheltered and safe forever. But the face that she was looking into was telling her that wasn’t an option. Ms. Sunblossom wanted her to let go, but Pinkamena was holding on like she was at the bottom rung of a ladder and there was nothing left to grasp should she fall.

“Look,” Ms. Sunblossom continued. “I know you miss your home, a lot of ponies here do too. But it’s been months Pinkamena. You need to make some friends. It’ll help.” Pinkamena didn’t remember seeing a more sincere gaze even from her own mother.

“Really?” Pinkamena’s voice crackled.

“I know so,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled as she took her other hoof and gave Pinkamena’s nose a light tap.

“But…” Pinkamena stopped.

“But what?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. “Pinkamena I know you’re a little shy and you’ve had your bad days, but you’ve been off since this morning. You don’t usually wake up that late. Did something happen?”

“There wasn’t…n-no,” Pinkamena lowered her head again.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said sternly. “Up here dear.” She put her free hoof under the filly’s chin and brought her head up. “Is there something you aren’t telling me? I can’t help if you don’t say anything.”

“I…I had a nightmare,” She admitted bluntly.

“A nightmare? Goodness why didn’t you tell me dear? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. “Will that help?”

“It was scary,” Pinkamena said. “I don’t wanna think about it.” Ms. Sunblossom raised an eyebrow to which Pinkamena only shook her head. The whole thing would have been too hard not only to verbalize but to believe.

“Well alright,” Ms. Sunblossom sighed. “Now I think you’ve kept me to yourself long enough for today. I have things to do, but you’re not off the hook little filly. You should enjoy your play time. I want you to go back outside and be as social as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” Pinkamena agreed.

“At least do your best dear,” Ms. Sunblossom lifted her hoof off Pinkmena and opened the front door again. Pinkamena squinted against the light walking toward the door slowly and squeamishly. Her knees seemed to tighten as she stepped into the grass and looked down at her hooves nervously as if she were afraid they might betray her attempt at good intentions. “Remember,” Ms. Sunblossom said from the doorway. “All you have to do is say hi.”

“Right,” Pinkamena whispered to herself. “Hi…” clunk. “Eeep” She squeaked as the door closed behind her. Ms. Sunblossom had shut it rather gently, but it still startled her. She felt immediately isolated and looking around at all the other fillies playing on the lawn gave her the impression that they looked right through her. They were all so engrossed in what they were doing and the adults in watching them that she knew nopony would notice her if she didn’t move. To them she would just look like some overgrown pink flower as their eyes glossed over her along with the scenery. She shuffled out of the way of the door and laid down on her stomach in the grass. She didn’t lie, she told herself. This was about as social as she knew how to be. In the distance Pinkamena heard the crack of a wooden bat and an echo of cheering fillies. Her body gave a shudder even though the wind and the sunlight were both warm. Her nose caught the scent of boiling potatoes coming from the kitchen which at least gave her something to look forward to. She stretched out her neck and laid her head down between her two front hooves.

“I bet Archy could hit a home run…” She said to the ground. That was all the more talkative she was the rest of evening. She simply couldn’t bring herself to say hello to any of the ponies she didn’t know. She was afraid of them and she didn’t know why. She was never this cowardly before the fire.

The sun had set by the time Pinkamena saw Ms. Sunblossom again and her day had been nothing like what her caretaker would have hoped. She didn’t even bother looking for Archer again even though he was probably the pony that would have been simplest to start a conversation with. Yet she didn’t know which made her more uncomfortable: greeting a stranger or trying to apologize to somepony she had already greeted. She shook her head at the floorboards as she walked, disapproving of herself.

“Off to bed now you two,” A voice down the hall said. Pinkamena’s ear gave a twitch and she raised her head just in time to see two colt’s scamper down a hallway to her left. Ms. Sunblossom stood at the corner smiling at them as they went. Pinkamena approached her quietly, knowing she had nothing to boast about and that if she told Ms. Sunblossom that she had done nothing but hide again she would only be met with disappointment. The halls were dark save for the lanterns that lined them. They were spaced out so that there were patches of darkness between the radii of their orangish-yellow glow and Ms. Sunblossom was standing under one of them. Pinkamena stepped into the light hesitantly, her hooves making quiet brushes across the wood.

“Hm?” Ms. Sunblossom turned her head and Pinkamena stopped, feeling her body want to sink back into the shade behind her, but she locked her knees and held herself still, feeling Ms. Sunblossom initial glance at her slightly incriminating.

“Pinkamena,” She smiled, but then tilted her head shifting to a worried expression. “Why do you look so sad dear?” Pinkamena forced her hind legs down and sat. It was the only thing she could think of to counter her gut reaction to back away. It seemed almost overpowering.

“I-I didn’t say hello to anypony…” She admitted painfully. She felt a bit of the tension leave her. Perhaps it was better to get it out of the way quickly.

“Oh I know I was hard on you Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom replied as she approached her. She sat down in front of Pinkamena assuming the same sitting position. “But don’t worry. We’ll get you there eventually.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Pinkamena asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

“Of course not dear,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “I couldn’t stay mad at you or any of my other little ponies here for long. But I must draw my lines. Now, are you ready for bed?”

“Yes ma’am,” Pinkamena replied, routinely.

“Alright. You run along and I’ll be by to tuck you in in a bit.” Pinkamena was about to trudge off but stopped, looking back up at Ms. Sunblossom with an expression of wonder.

“T-tuck me in?” She questioned. Ms. Sunblossom always made sure everypony made it to bed, but she didn’t have time attend to all of them individually. Her words took Pinkamena by surprise. She hadn’t been tucked in to bed since the fire.

“You think it’ll help you sleep? We don’t want you having any more nightmares.”

“I don’t know…” This time she really didn’t know. The nightmares didn’t come in a consistent pattern. The only thing she could be certain of was that if she did have a nightmare, she would wake up alone.

“Well it’s worth a shot,” Ms. Sunblossom decided. “Now you head on over to the sleeping room and I’ll be there when I make sure everypony made it to bed. ‘Kay?”

Pinkamena nodded, but she didn’t move, waiting rather for Ms. Sunblossom to walk off first.

“Go on,” Ms. Sunblossom urged her.

“Oh…okay.” She realized what the mare was waiting for and scurried off down the hallway, looking back to see Ms. Sunblossom take the hallway she had just come from. After her caretaker disappeared, Pinkamena resigned her head to the floor as she walked. Of all the things that confused her the most right now the reason Ms. Sunblossom was being so nice to her was second only to her own fear of everything and everypony she didn’t know. At least she knew why her nightmare haunted her. Everypony else seemed like an enigma. What did they think of her? Was Ms. Sunblossom only doing this because she felt sorry for her? Her lack of knowledge made her want to know, but her fear of asking anything just left her frustrated. The two conflicting compulsions were paralyzing her much the same way she had been in the hallway before telling Ms. Sunblossom that she hadn’t done what she wanted her to do. Her instinct had been to back away in fear of letting her caretaker down, but she had been so unwilling to let that instinct get the best of her that she ended up being stuck in place, unable to act at all. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe the fire never should have happened. Maybe she wanted nothing more than to be back home. Maybe she was lucky to even have somepony like Ms. Sunblossom looking out for her. Maybe she was just-

Thump

Pinkamena was forced to a halt, face smashing against a wall. She completely zoned out and had just kept walking as far as the hallway would take her. She rubbed her nose and hit the wall with her other hoof, blaming it for not warning her to stop. She turned and took a look around. An immediate sense of pressure descended on her. There weren’t any lanterns back here. It was dark. This wasn’t even the hallway she had started in. Lost in her thoughts, she had actually taken a turn, maybe several, without realizing it. She had no way of knowing and she didn’t recognize the room she was in. The only light was the moon shinning through the windows and the dust hovering over the floor. It looked like nopony ever went back here.

“M-Miss Sunblossom,” She tried to whisper, but even her soft outcry seemed like it was too loud. It sunk heavily into the wood and echoed only briefly before it was swallowed up.

“Miss-eee,” Pinkamena nearly yelped as she flinched forward. Her tail had unexpectedly brushed against the wall behind her and it set her on edge. Her body tensed and she felt a chill run up from her tail all the way through her ears. Her eyes fogged up and she could feel her heart speed up and her breaths follow. No, she thought, I won’t cry, I just have to go back the way I came. She inched forward, taking the doorway at her side thinking it must have been one of the turns she accidentally took, but the room she found herself in was just as foreign to her as the dark hallway. Her right front hoof nudged something.

Bang!

Pinkamena screamed, but immediately stifled it as she jumped to the side. She had simply knocked something over. She eyed the object, a small wooden nightstand that had nothing on it. Looking up from it however, her eyes were met with a staircase that lead up into a darkness that caved in on itself, hiding away from the sparse moonlight coming from the small windows in the room. They didn’t have curtains like most of the other places in the building and Pinkamena had the sinking feeling that she was in a place that not many ponies used. Nopony would find her here, she thought. Ms. Sunblossom would go to tuck her in and Pinkamena wouldn’t be there and none of the other adults would ever think to look where nopony else ever ventured.

Pinkamena’s panic intensified. She backed away from the staircase and the fallen table, a sense of dread enveloping her as she stared up into a blackness that seemed reach out for her. Her terrified mind imagined a set bright white eyes glowering down at her from within its depths. Her legs began to tremble. Her tail felt the wall behind her and she took her last step back.

In a sudden swish of wind, Pinkamena was sent flailing down some kind of slide as the floorboard beneath her flipped. She stumbled, trying desperately to stop herself as she careened downward into nothingness, but whatever slick surface she was on offered no traction. Her chin smacked against it several times as she struggled, trying to get back on her hooves. It was no use. The room she had been in seemed comforting now. She had no control over where she was going. Giving up on stopping herself, Pinkamena turned herself on her back hind legs first. She couldn’t see anything anymore, but could feel herself turning as the slide spiraled downward. Her hind legs suddenly collided with something, forcing open a set of hinges that screeched loudly, the wooden panels attached to them banging against something as they were thrown open. Pinkamena tumbled off the slide and flopped to her stomach, hitting her chin against the ground.

She let out a faint whimper, her breaths shaky. She suddenly felt streams running down her face. She hadn’t even realized they were there. She has been too terrified. She got up, her knees buckling underneath her as she tried to control them. She still couldn’t see anything. It was as dark as darkness gets. Yet she could feel that the ground beneath her was no longer wood, but soil and the air around her was cold. It was quiet save for her wheezy, petrified breaths and her heart pounding on her eardrums. She sniffled taking in the musty scent of moist soil and untended wood. She was afraid to move. More so than what she didn’t know, what she couldn’t see scared her. She ran a hoof through her mane as if to make sure her body was still there.

It was several minutes before Pinkamena managed to find the courage to even step backwards. Trying to calm her breaths, she reached cautiously back with her hind leg and feeling wood against it, shuffled back into what she assumed was a wall. She felt along it moving slowly as she kept track of its surface with her hooves. She lifted a front one up and felt something metal and cold. She immediately withdrew, but in the process struck the object and a click was followed by a sudden hiss. Four fires blazed to life at each corner of the room. Pinkamena put a hoof to her eyes as the initial burst of light was painful to her eyes which had been struggling to find even a small glimpse. Lowering it though, she wished kept it there or never found the light. She gasped, but it got caught in her throat and she ended up coughing. The light came from four lanterns fastened to the wall. She didn’t know how they worked, only that they were somehow linked to the small lever she had flipped as she was feeling around in the dark. What they revealed though was never meant for her eyes.

She finished her coughing, wanting nothing more than to look away. She couldn’t though. The scene before her was the only thing for her to see. There was a table, a wooden one at the left side of the room, its center covered in a splatter of faded red. There were several belts attached to it all loose and forming rings. Around the rest of the room were circles drawn in the same color in the soil and on the walls. There was even one that would have been big enough for her to fit in the center of on the ceiling. In the right corner there was a set of bookshelves, the books piled on top of one another as a few of the shelves had collapsed. Next to them was a small table, short enough even for her with an old decaying scroll on it next to a large tome that looked just as old. She could smell their pages. Pinkamena stared in awe, unsure of whether to be afraid or curious. One large circle was painted in faintly across the soil in the room’s center, its presence dominating all of the others. They were all circles with strange symbols and lines crossing through them. She didn’t understand any of it. The only thing she understood was that it frightened her. She stepped cautiously forward, avoiding the red lines like they might kill her if she touched them. They were ominous and Pinkamena wanted nothing to do with them. She avoided the stained table at the side of the room as well, making her way to the books, the only objects in the room from which she felt no terror.

She made it to the middle of the room and stopped. Her legs were shaking so much that walking was difficult. She tried calming herself down by taking deep breaths, but her inhaling was shallow and her exhales came out shaky as if she were freezing.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” Pinkamena’s voice trembled. “Hello?” Her voice sunk into the ground and found no answer. Why was this little underground room even here? Where was the way out? How old was this place? Pinkamena rattled her head.

“Ms. Sunblossom,” She called louder. “Ms. Sunblossom!” Her cry was short and followed by a fit of sniveling. “Where are you?” Her head jerked around frantically. “Help me!” She froze and there was still no answer. She had no choice, she realized. She had to find a way out herself. Pinkamena continued forward, stretching her legs over the red lines towards the books. The whole room looked closed in save for the wooden panels that the slide spat her out of and if anything might show her a way out, it would be the books. Keeping an eye on her hooves, she tread lightly. She didn’t even have the consolation of telling herself that this was a nightmare. This wasn’t her nightmare, not the one she knew.

She managed her way to the short slab of a table, approaching it with wonder and dread. She lifted a hoof and poked the dusty rolled up scroll next to the tome. It crinkled and even though she feared its very being, it did nothing else. It was just a normal piece of paper. Holding it down on one end with one hoof, she propped herself up onto the table and unrolled the scroll with her other hoof. It cracked and snapped as she laid it out, revealing another cryptic circle painted in red. Her hooves flinched away from the page and the stale sheet remained stiff, staying flat. Whatever all the crisscrosses and lines scribbled into it meant, if she didn’t touch them they couldn’t hurt her. At least that was her reasoning.

Pinkamena turned to the book instead. It was a large old tome not only covered in dust, but filled with it as well. She pulled open the hardbound cover and it flopped to the table with a thud that sent plumes of dust into her eyes and nose. She turned away from it, descending into a fit of coughs and sneezing. Five times she counted. Far more spasming than she wanted to deal with. She wiped her nose on her hoof, instantly regretting it as it ended up covered in a layer of runny mucus.

“Blech,” She said out loud, flicking her hoof to get the snot off. She wished for nothing more than a tissue at this point, as her curiosity over the book was beginning to outweigh her fear. She settled for wiping her hoof in the dirt. Ms. Sunblossom would have frowned at her, but a place like this wasn’t wanting of etiquette. It was far dingier than any cellar she had been in. It was so small and hidden that no pony probably even knew it existed. But what was it for, she asked herself? Turning back to the book and flipping its first page made her feel like an explorer who had just stumbled upon the remains of a lost civilization. The rough dusty feeling and texture of the page sent an awful spasm of chills up her leg. She shook it off and her eyes met the first set of discernable symbols since she come down here.

The Alchemy of Clairvoyance, the book’s inner title page read.

“Cl-Claaaiiire…mmm,” She tried sounding out the last word. “Clairvoooy… voy…voyance-e?” She tilted her head, no way of knowing if she was saying it right. “I wonder who that is…” She had never heard of anypony named Clairvoyance before. She flipped to the next page and was met with two pages littered with ink. There were lists, diagrams, faded sketches drawn over some of the words, and letters scribbled on rather than written in one clean stroke. Everything looked like ingredients of some kind, but it was written across, over, and everywhere so much that it was difficult to make out any of the words. Turning more of the leathery flaps yielded the same result. Somepony had taken so many notes that the text they had apparently been so enraptured with was no longer legible. Toward the tome’s center Pinkamena began to recognize some of the nonsensical sketches to be the same as some of the circles drawn on the wall.

She might have forced the book shut had she not come to the final page and found it clean. Not blank, but free of all the mad ink scratchings and symbols that meant nothing to her. One page was covered by a diagram of one of the circles and Pinkamena recognized it as the one that was smeared on the scroll next to her. Her fur stood on. The only thing separating them was their artistry. The one in the book was a nearly perfect circle, its inner patterns drawn in neat straight lines that were easy to follow while its counterpart was lumpy like a ball that needed air and its patterns were messily wiped across the page and what were perfect angles in the book came across as curved on the scroll. They were still discernibly the same design. Pinkamena didn’t know much about magic, but it was starting to give off the vibe.

She turned to the text on the accompanying page.

Now that all necessary preparations have been made, take the remaining mixture and on a single scroll, draw this final circle. Wet the inside with two of your own tears, one from each eye, press your hooves to the center, and I need tell you no more. From here on out you will know all that you need to. You will see things before they happen and, if done as has been instructed, be perfectly precognitive. Your own future will be yours to see and puppeteer. Just remember, as stated before, the spell will wear off after the first activation. Gathering more of the mixture will be required for more activations, but after three casts the effects are permanent. Be advised, an imperfect mixture will give imperfect results.

Pinkamena stared at the large print for a long while. She couldn’t understand half of it. She didn’t know what precognitive was or what the mixture was supposed to be. The part she did get was seeing the future. Fu-ture. She knew what that meant. Could it really be true? She looked at the scroll. Could she really be able to see the future. Just imagine, she thought, what her world would be like if she had known about the fire before it happened. She shuffled over to the paper and jumped up on the table, placing her two front hooves in the circle. Nothing happened. She wished she could read better. She was terrible at following long sentences. But the thought of being able to know things before they happened tore at her. She wouldn’t have to be afraid of anypony anymore. She would know how they would act and if they would like her or hate her. And maybe if this place was going to burn down too, she could warn everyone and the only thing they would have to mourn for would be lost timber.

“Tell me!” She shouted, stomping on the page and starting to cry. She at least wanted to see if it was true or if the whole book was just a lie. At the very least, it might show her a way out. Still, she saw nothing, felt nothing. The whole room remained unchanged.

“Hey,” Pinkamena said talking to it as if it were her friend. “Do you think I’ll ever get my cutie mark?” She closed her eyes and felt tears come running out of them again. The page had said something about tears, but she wasn’t sure what to do with them. One felt to the page and as it soaked into the old paper, it sparked.

“Huh?” She stopped, her eyes flicking about the circle looking for another sign of life. She quickly looked around her, but nothing was different. But jerking her head back to the circle, a second drop fell from her face. It hit the page, both spots hissed, and the circle steadily began to glow a hazy blue. It was subtle at first, but it became gradually clear that something was happening. Her face lit up with joy, smiling at her apparent success. She looked into the circle standing gleefully over it expecting it to show her something special, something she wouldn’t quite get at first like the text she had just read. Nothing changed for several moments. Maybe she needed to ask it something, something simple. Nothing too complicated to start off.

“Is-” She would make no such inquiry. She was cut short as the lines at her hooves erupted with light. Before she could back away, the two spots where her tears had fallen lit up red. Two vicious streams of electricity burst from their places and leapt straight into her eyes tunneling like drills into her pupils. Pinkamena’s head flailed and even as she reared back onto her hind legs trying to kick the bolts away, she found herself unable to back away. All she could see was white and pain with a sharpness like broken nails entered through her face and hammered its way down her spine. She screamed louder than she ever had, the buzz of her vocal chords assisted by shock and desperation. There was lighting bouncing all around the room and Pinkamena finally reared back far enough that she fell off the table backwards landing harshly with her hooves twitching. Her whole body began to convulse, the electricity still mercilessly driving itself into her eyes. Her hooves tightened and loosened with no rhythm and her tail wrung every way it could as her head snapped from side to side as she ground her teeth against each other. All her struggling was vain. The whole room pulsed with a death grip that wouldn’t let her go. She could see nothing, heard only the sound of her own torture, and with all her nerves crying to her brain in agony, they had no time for her other senses.

With one final loud snap like a firework, Pinkamena’s head was forced back and the lightning vanished. Her limp frame flopped to her back motionless, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull. Her body lay there, wheezing in air through a throat that was wracked and hoarse from being pushed as far as it would go. Minutes went by before it was able to do anything but what was necessary. Then presently,

“heh…eheheh…” She started laughing. Slowly and quietly at first with small chuckles. “Ha…Ahahaha.” The mare’s back arched and her head bent back the whites of her eyes glaring at the world upside down.

“Ahahahahaha! Aaaaaahahahaha!” She burst into hysteria. It wasn’t an amused laughter, but a crazy one, broken and maniacal like the one from her dream. She drug her head up with her body and as she sat up her eyes fell back into place like a busted slot reel. Her pupils were thin and narrowed like she was staring into bright light, accompanied by a crazy grin that curved up like a scimitar. Her normally straight mane seemed curved and blade like at its ends and it drooped over her face, a curtain concealing madness. The mare gasped in air, running herself dry from laughing. She put a hoof to her lip and was met with a smear of fresh scarlet across her pink pelt.

“Oops,” She said almost happily. “I tried to eat myself.” She pushed her mane to the side, betraying a wild expression, uncharacteristic and unfit for looking at blood.

“Blood,” She whispered to herself. “That’s what it is!” Her eyes flicked around the room, reanalyzing all the patterns with new eyes. “The mixture is blood. The blood of fillies. Ahahaha!” She turned to the open wood panels where she had entered the room. “Oo!Oo!” Skipping over to them, she climbed up and reached to the right of it, pulling out a lever and yanking it toward her so eagerly that she lost her grip when it clinked to a stop and fell on her back again. She laughed it off as the twisting of metal sent the entire slide flipping over in segments into a staircase.

“I’m free, I’m free,” She chanted. In an unreal movement she zipped back to the table and flipped greedily through the pages of the book.

“Thank you, whoever you are!” She kissed the pages, spitting the accumulating dust from her lips when she finished. “Eh?” She froze. She looked down and put a hoof to her chest as if she were checking her pulse.

“What’s this?” She asked. A moment with a bewildered expression on her face past before it darkened and grinned maliciously. “Oh dear sweetness I thought I’d lost you…” She began brushing her pelt there, as if it were her pet. “Poor little pony was so afraid. Afraid of losing somepony, afraid of friends. Yes I can see you…ALL of you. It’s so bittersweet. But don’t you worry, I’ve got you now. I won’t let you get hurt.” She wobbled over to the other table with straps at the side of the room looking like she could fall over or pass out at any moment, yet keeping an eerily affectionate eyes on her own chest. She managed her way in an path a drunkard might take to the table and propped herself up on it with her front hooves. She reached under it with one and with no surprise in her expression, pulled out a bloodied kitchen knife, large and still sharp.

“Mmmhmhm…” She giggled with her mouth closed, eyeing the blade. “Only two more casts I see we need. But first!” She raised the knife and slammed it into the edge of the table. It went in cleanly with a loud snap, its handle vibrating like a violin string as she let it go. “First we need blood…More of it.” She smiled, turning away and trotting towards the stairs. She stopped as she jumped into the opening upward and giggled giddily at some inward feeling.

“Ohhhhh it tickles,” She bounced in place. “So much fear. Oh, my gentle little mare…” She whispered fondly. “It’s time for bed. But we won’t fret will we? Never again! I’ll make sure sleep is the closest glimpse of death you’ll ever have to see!”

She turned toward the stairs and kicked the switched on the wall, snuffing out the lanterns. The darkness was absolute, but Pinkamena’s eyes seemed to reflect even it like light, shining with their own devious cruelty.

PART 3: The Binding of the Tourniquet

Primum Non Nocere: The Secret of the Mad Mare's Precognition

Part 3: The Binding of the Tourniquet

Pinkamena couldn’t sleep. Every time it seemed like she was on the threshold of finally sinking into subconscious, something jarred her awake. Her eyes would pop open and she would be left once again staring listlessly at the underside of her covers. Thinking the constant crinkling from the straw might keep her fellow ponies awake, Pinkamena refrained from moving or shifting around as much as she could. But her body ached for movement; it wasn’t ready to rest just yet. No matter how hard she tried, she just wasn’t the type that could force herself to sleep when she didn’t need it. It was impossible for her to tell just how much time she remained half asleep before her body woke her up or how long she stubbornly fought against it. But after realizing how futile it was, Pinkamena sat up, realizing with a rush of cool, fresh air how stuffy it had become under her blanket. She took in a deep breath, which helped, but the new air was more invigorating than it was relaxing. Twiddling her hooves for a moment, she took shy glances around the room, looking and listening for anypony who might be awake. Perceiving none, she hopped from her bed and plopped as quietly as she could to the floor, taking care to be sure nopony had been disturbed. It didn’t seem like it, so Pinkamena made her way to the door which was barely ajar, nudging it open to create a gap just wide enough for her little body to slither through.

Pinkamena stepped into the hall and pulled the door back to where she had found it. She wasn’t sure why she was being so furtive. There were any number of fillies who might wake up during the course of the night and head across the hall to the bathrooms. Nopony would be suspicious of what she was doing. But because of this, the lantern in the hall remained lit most of the night and Pinkamena squinted against it. Her eyes had gotten so used to the shade under her covers that even the scarce light outside of them seemed harsh. For a moment, coming into the hallway was like looking up at the sun and Pinkamena lowered her head away from the light. Her eyes quickly adjusted. She glanced from side to side and blinked. There was nopony else in the halls. Where did she think she was going? She didn’t have to pee and Ms. Sunblossom had even done her the gracious favor of tucking her in. What kind of pony was she if that didn’t set her body at peace? But anything seemed better than going back to her bed and now that she was already out of the room, going back would be tedious. At least that was the excuse she gave herself.

She turned in the opposite direction of the bathrooms, heading into a darkened hallway just to get away from the door in case there was a pony that was actually out for a reason. Sitting just outside the light, she curled her tail around her legs, breathing out a sigh. She sat there for awhile, unsure what to do other than not sleep as her mind wandered from thought to thought until a strange feeling came over her. Her fur curled, standing on end and sending a wave fuzzy white noise across her nerves. Pinkamena shivered. Odd, she thought, she wasn’t cold. But she felt something watching her. She didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the floor flicking around in their sockets as she tried to resist looking up. Something was there, her mind was sure of it, off in the shadows where her peripherals weren’t enough to make it out. .

Taking in a sharp breath, she jerked her head, stood up, and turned to where it was. There was nothing. Pinkamena found herself suddenly lightheaded, her pulse quickening from adrenaline. She had stood up too fast and sitting back down, she felt like she might pass out. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Silly, she thought, she was psyching herself out.

“Pinkamena?” A voice pronounced her name as a question. She jumped, letting out a sound more like a high pitched yelp than anything else. She stood back up, stiffening as her head gave another swoon. Facing the pony that had said her name through temporarily blurred sight, she found that it was only Archer, tilting his head at her as he stood next to the sleeping room door in the light. He wasn’t what she thought he would be and she was relieved. He must have gone out just before her for an actual reason. It was good that he wasn’t the presence she though she had felt, yet she couldn’t bring herself to loosen her limbs. They seemed petrified and locked in place.

“What are you doing over there?” Archer asked, taking a step toward her. Pinkamena knew he could see her even though she had sat in the shadows to avoid drawing attention. She shifted into the light shyly like a kid who was somewhere she knew she wasn’t supposed to be. But if it was bedtime and she couldn’t sleep, then where was she to go?

“Hi…” She paused. “Archer.” It might have been the first time she said his name, she wasn’t sure. It felt like it was.

“What’s wrong?” Pinkamena flinched inwardly at his question. She felt he cared too much, but he seemed to sense the tension coming from her. If he knew it meant something was wrong, maybe he was a step ahead of her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She responded in earnest. It was true, but why she couldn’t sleep was still a mystery to her.

“Me neither,” Archer said as if he had been grasping for a commonality between them and upon finally finding one, was more than happy to vocalize and make it clear that it existed. Both of them couldn’t sleep, what a great couple they might make. Wait what? Pinkamena shook her head. Archer’s words seemed to be pulling on her in a way she didn’t like. She felt an imminent danger coming from herself. There was a pain in her chest and she shifted nervously away from Archer as he approached her.

“I guess I’m excited to play baseball,” Archer told her as he sat next to her. “What position do you want to play? Do you think you’d be a good shortstop?”

“Heh,” She laughed.

“Huh?” Archer gave her a funny look.

“Baseball,” She scoffed. “Want to see to see something better?”

“Pinkamena?” Archer barely knew her and even he thought she was acting strange. But she couldn’t help it. Something was tickling her insides.

“I’ll show you a secret,” Pinkamena smiled coyly at him from behind her mane. “It’s a hidden little place I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” Archer seemed curious, but her tone caused him to shift away from her, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He asked raising a hoof from the floor as if to guard himself.

“It’s this way,” She turned away toward the darkened hall, flicking her tail across his face and looking back at him with a smile as she walked slowly, waiting for him to follow.

“But what about-”

“Shh,” she hushed him “No pony has to know. This place can be our secret. Just us.” Archer glanced back at the sleeping room and then to her, unsure of himself and of her. Pinkamena had never acted this way before and he knew well enough that the fillies weren’t supposed to go any further than this hall at night. There was bound to be at least a few adults around at night to check on things. What if they got caught? What did she even want to show him?

“Come on,” Pinkamena urged him. “What? Don’t friends have adventures?” She saddened and her disappointment in his disapproval perked him right up.

“Okay,” He smiled trotting up to follow her. “Where are we going?” He asked as he walked up beside her. It was almost too easy. A mere affirmation that they were friends and he was suddenly on board with whatever she had in store. She walked along, satisfied with her meager feat of cunning, her mane seeming to sharpen and her eyes filling with a plotting confidence.

“Back where I began…” She said.

“What do you mean?” Pinkamena didn’t answer him, but let him follow as she kept walking, the barely lit hall making his hooves unsure of themselves. She felt one of his wings reach for her, using her as a reference so the colt wouldn’t get lost and to make sure she was still there. This was the way she had gone before, she knew it, there were no doubts in her mind now and this time she had what she needed.

“Pinkamena I don’t like this,” Archer complained as they walked. “Maybe we should go back. We’re probably not supposed to be here.”

“Are you scared?” She asked more as a taunt than out of concern. Archer swallowed audibility, his wing flinching away from her as they came to a moonlit doorway that led into a lonely room, the curtainless windows the only source of light.

“A little,” He said. She might have praised him for his honesty had she felt inclined. He certainly wasn’t at the age yet when he might have wanted to impress her with a false show of fortitude. Snickering to herself, she sauntered into the room without hesitation and turned, gesturing with a tilt of her head for him to follow. What he wanted to see was in here. He would certainly like it. All boys loved secrets did they not? Why else would the young colts from before have been so happy with their inside knowledge of the adult world? Archer’s curiosity would outweigh his fear.

“What is this place?” He asked, slowly stepping through the door, less skittish now that there was light that he could see by.

“This isn’t even it yet,” Pinkamena boasted. “Over here.” She stepped lightly to the corner of the room, placing one hoof over the one familiar floorboard petting it with a look of eerie affection. Turning back to Archer, he tilted his head at her, glancing at the wood.

“Stand right here,” She told him. “It’s quite the secret. You won’t believe what you see.” Moving step by step toward it, Archer exercised a strange bit of caution. It didn’t seem like it was because he didn’t trust her, but that he didn’t see the appeal of staring at a wall or the floor. The board was just a board to him, part of the building. Pinkamena smiled neatly at him as he made his way over gradually. He stood straight up and in place where she had told him to, as if he had to have perfect posture to see what she was trying to show him. He glanced from side to side, confused, unable to see the appeal in the wallpaper.

“I don’t get it,” Archer said. “What are you trying to sh-” Pinkamena lifted her hoof before he could finish. He was cut off as the floorboard flipped from underneath him, sending him tumbling hoof over head down a flight of jagged steps. Pinkamena smiled, looked up, and, seeing no one, sunk invisibly into the trapdoor, letting it down over her head with deliberate ease. Strolling casually down without a light, only the darkness was privy to her satisfied expression.

“Ow…urrr…” She could hear Archer’s pained groans as she decended. She knew this path, it circled down, that was all. Feeling it end, she hopped down and stretched out her hoof, striking the switch as naturally as if she had been here a thousand times. A click and lanterns flared to life. Archer was lying on his side curled up in a fetal position, nursing one of his front hooves,f wincing in pain.

“You made it,” Pinkamena said cordially as she silently closed the wooden boards behind her, raising the latch.

“You idiot,” Archer scolded her. “I-ow…” He cringed. “Why didn’t you tell me about that. Mmmm….” His lip pursed as he made an incredibly fearful moan, a realization coming into his eyes in the from of water. “I hurt my leg,” He told her. “I think it might be broken.”

“Oh you won’t be needing it.” Pinkamena gazed down at him, her eyelids lowered like a mother overseeing her child, a normally sweet look that was twisted on her face with a wry grin.

“What?” His eyes shot to hers fearfully.

“Look,” She said, and before she finished the single syllable his eyes had already caught glimpses of the ceiling. He stared up at it, then, bringing his head around, gazed about the room, wiping his eyes to make sure his tears weren’t distorting what he saw.

“Pinkamena…” Archer started to shake. “What is this? What’s all over the walls? Why did you want to show me this?” Chuckling, she watched the fear fill his body, his wings stiffening and turning jagged as his limbs began to shake.

“It made no difference if you saw it or not,” She answered, and clicked the latch behind her shut. To Archer, it seemed like a damning sound, a final tolling of the bell that told him there was no going back now.

“Wh-What are you doing,” Archer shivered. Pinkamena moved to him, leaning her head in close and rubbing a hoof in the dirt next to his belly.

“Do you know what these circles are drawn in?” She asked.

“No…” Archer flinched back and tried to restrain his shaky breathing as she exhaled close enough that the air went down his nose. Taking a step back she lowered her head and brought out her tongue, bringing it a wound on Archer’s leg and lapping up the half dried liquid. He drew back, disgusted, but above all confused. Her tongue felt rubbery and the wetness made his scrape sting. He drew back, disgusted, but above all confused.

“Blood,” She licked her lips, her eyes widening and her pupils sharpening into catlike diamonds.

“G-get away from me!” Archer squirmed, trying to stand, but he tripped, falling to his face as soon as he tried to use his injured leg. Wrenching his face up with the force of just his neck muscles, he spat dirt from his mouth. He got up, turning to face her on three legs, the fourth tucked to his chest.

“S-stay back,” He commanded shakily.

“Why little filly?” Pinkamena asked. “Don’t we want to play? Don’t you want to know the secret?”

“No!” He shouted back at her, starting to cry. “I don’t. I don’t know where I am. I don’t like this place and I don’t want to play. I’m scared Pinkamena. I just wanna go back to my bed. I thought we were friends, why are you doing this?” He sniffled, taking on a stifled statement at the end mostly to himself, “I can’t play baseball with a broken leg…” a tear ran down his cheek. Pinkamena put on an exaggerated frown, showcasing a bitingly sarcastic disappointment.

“Ohh,” She uttered piteously. “I guess you’re no good to anypony but me.” Her face twisted into a wild grin and she took a step toward him.

“Stop,” He stepped back with every step she took toward him, his eyes switching from her to the doors behind her.

“Give me a hug.”

“No!” Archer bolted, hobbling as fast as he could on three legs toward the exit. Effortless, she reached out and tripped him, sending him crashing into the dirt again.

“Silly,” Pinkamena clicked her tongue. “No Pegasus is going to overpower an earth pony.” Her statement must have reminded him in his fear that he had wings. He immediately spread them, but just as he lifted himself from the ground Pinkamena caught him by his hind leg, her hoof twisting around it unnaturally, anchoring him down with a sick kind of greed.

“Come back to us Archy,” She taunted, wiggling him in her grip as he tugged vainly away, squirming in the air. He screamed, louder than anypony she had ever heard. Her ears relished the sound. He was losing his mind.

“Help!” His vocal chords ground together sounding like they might rip if he tried any harder. “Ms. Sunblossom! Help! Anypony! Help! Help me! Help meeeeee!”

“That’s the spirit!” She yelled gleefully as she giggled at him.

“Let go!” Tears were spilling off his face. “Please! Please let go! Mmmm,” There was an abrupt pitter patter as Archer reached the wall, his hooves pawing and scraping at it hoping it might give way. It was his only means of escape. In her carelessness Pinkamena realized she must have allowed him to drag her a little bit. Shrugging, she gave one mighty tug and Archer plummeted to the ground.

“HELP ME!” Archer let out a scream so loud it seemed to rattle the glass of the lanterns, disturbing even the room’s light.

He smacked into the floor and before he could flail his way to his feet, Pinkamena stomped, pressing a hoof to his throat.

“Uck..gaaaak…ah…ah…” His tongue stuck in his throat and his lungs clawed desperately for air. Pinkamena clamped him down with an iron hold, hushing him even as his struggles faded into silent convulsions as his consciousness lost its grip.

“Shhhh, shhh,” She urged him. “Hush little filly, don’t say a word, mama’s gonna give you what we all deserve.” Even as all of Archer’s other limbs were snuffed out and his eyes rolled back in defeat, his wings fluttered uncontrollably in a seizure. They were the last thing to stop moving giving their last sad twitches when Pinkamena finally lifted her hoof.

“Sleep tight Archy,” She said sweetly. “I’ll be with you when you wake.” She smiled satisfactorily, meaning her statement in the most literal sense. Lifting the unconscious colt from the floor onto her back, she brought him over to the table at the end of the room and bucked him up onto its surface. She propped herself up on her hind legs, looking at his deadweight frame, petting the handle of the knife she had jammed there earlier.

“Hm,” She chuckled to herself. “I forgot to bring to a brush.”

________________

When Archer awoke he was latched to a wooden slab, his appendages splayed out obliquely in four directions. Dazed at first, his eyelids flittered open, struggling against some unknown pain. His head ached and when he tried to lift it, he found that the rest of his body would not follow. He held his neck up straining the muscles to look out across his bound body. He jerked against the bindings, the bolts holding them in place clanging in tandem with his squirming. He winced. The stinging in his right front hoof came back to him and without the ability to writhe to ease the pain, he could only grit his teeth and listen to them squeak against each other as he tried to bear it. It was no use, the only things he could move were his head and his wings. He brought them up and down gently, eyeing them, making sure they were still okay. They looked and felt okay, but from his position they could do nothing more than flap and buzz uselessly, their only means of propulsion pushing him further into the woodwork he lay against. Archer shivered. It was cold and the steely loops that held his legs in place felt, especially against his wound, like they were slowly gnawing poisonous frostbite into his limbs.

Yet even as he felt the tingling rush of prickles sweep through his fur, the only thing he could see was the ceiling scribbled and painted in red, the only sound his forlorn and vain thrashings in attempt to get free. He tried his best not to use his injured leg, but every time he yanked against his bindings the one around it seemed to grind its way deeper into the scraped flesh. He wanted to scream, yell out for help, but something about the quietness around him was eerily sublime like if he were to break it, it might retaliate. His pulse quickened and every moment under the intense atmosphere made him want to scream even louder. He was bottling himself up, his breaths gradually quickening to a panic, and sooner or later he would inevitably explode, break into hyperventilation and have no choice but to use all of the strength his vocal chords had to plea for salvation. In his attempts to control himself, the first sound off his tongue was a faint whimper, one of hopelessness and skittish fear.

“Oh dear,” A voice responded. He already regretted the sound. But it had been entirely involuntary and there was no way, even in hindsight, that he saw where he could have stopped himself. “You might have wanted to stay asleep.” The voice was right, of course it was. The only place he would have wanted to wake to was his bed back in the sleeping room. This place was filled with uncertainty. Even the circles painted above him gave off the feeling. He couldn’t read them, he couldn’t move, his scope of vision was limited. Everything reeked of the unknown.

“Hey,” The voice was close, almost in his ear. “Over here, sleepy face.” Everything down to Archer’s eyes trembled. He didn’t want to look; he wanted to will himself to pass out again.

“Turn mongrel!” The voice shouted. There was no point. Sooner or later he would have to look or he would be forced to. He may as well take the easier option. Slowly, but as deliberately as he could manage, Archer turned his head to side. In the lantern light, he was greeted with that familiar pair of diamond bladed pupils and the sharp, sinister straight pink mane that he had thought belonged to a friend. Was he so naïve? She was propped up on the table by her two front hooves, the malice still glowing in her eyes.

“Hi,” Pinkamena said almost sweetly. “You put up quite a fuss. What’s the matter?” Why was she asking him this? Was it to mock him? Did she even want an answer and if she did, what was she going to do with that information? Archer’s mind swirled and his vision seemed to sway, an imbalance brought on by lying down for too long.

“Who are you?” Archer managed. To his surprise, he sounded rather calm. But everything seemed calm after he had pleaded for his life and clawed at the walls to try to escape. There was still fear written and littered into his speech and his body language, and with whatever sense Pinkamena was using, she could see all of it.

“Hehe…” She giggled. “You know who I am silly.”

“No…” He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“I’m Pinkamena. Did you lose your memory?”

“No,” Archer replied again, the repetition of his response causing his hopelessness to sink in. “You’re not! What happened to Pinkamena? We were gonna play baseball? If you didn’t want to play you could’ve just-”

“Stupid foal!” Pinkamena interrupted him. “Does your mind not go beyond what game you want to play tomorrow or what soup happens to be for lunch?” She plopped down from the table, walking over to another smaller one near the middle of the room against a wall.

“I-I..” Archer didn’t know what to say. He was only a filly; he wasn’t prepared for these kinds of questions. Pinkamena eyed a blank piece of parchment before grabbing the hilt of a knife with her teeth and yanking it from the table’s surface. She made her way back over, her eyes glinting in the light along with the knife.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Wham! The blade plunged into the wood at Archer’s side, sticking up at the edge of the table, vibrating with residual force. Archer flinched closing his eyes and suppressing another squeak. Opening his eyes, Archer found Pinkamena back in front of him propped up on the table and shaking her head.

“You have no fortitude,” She said.

“It’s a knife,” Archer said pleadingly. “I hate sharp things. Please, just let me go! I’m scared. I promise I won’t-”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Pinkamena yelled at him. Reaching out, she smacked his face with a hoof and recoiling, Archer looked back at her through teary eyes.

“Wh-Why?”

“Look at you. What do you have in this world foal?”

“Tch,” Archer grit his teeth through his tears. In the midst of his fear, he felt anger surface. Down here there was nothing for him to lose. He was bound, trapped, and left with only his words to defend himself. He began to hate the mare in front of him. It wasn’t his friend. It never was.

“That’s a stupid question!” Archer yelled at her. Pinkamena, losing her disinterested demeanor, smiled slyly.

“Oh?” She uttered, intrigued by his response.

“I have friends! I have Ms. Sunblossom and everypony else here!”

“And what do you mean to them?”

“Wh-” Archer stopped. How was he supposed to know. “I-I don’t-”

“Don’t know!?” Pinkamena finished. “I can make you worth so much more. Your friends don’t know what they feel for you, but I can make them. I can make everypony feel what they’ve lost! No one sees meaning in life you see little filly. But death, everypony loves it. They think about it, analyze it, they dive into its mysterious depths. How can they really find any answers? Those looking can know now, the truth they seek lies in the noose. Only in death can they discover death. No book or fancy yarn will ever let them pass beyond the veil. If you want to know, then die.”

“I- I don’t think about-” Archer stopped, not wanting to say the word that Pinkamena, someone he thought shared his innocence, was throwing around like trash.

“Of course you don’t,” Pinkamena agreed. “And what a blissful existence you had. Have we lost the wisdom of children, the one being that can see meaning in existence without the inevitability of death? You see Archer, you’ll never be anything to anypony. In the story, they’ll say the most meaningful characters are the ones that die. We love heroes, especially the ones that ruin themselves. If you die, you’ll be a memory, the greatest memory. They’ll praise you for all the nothing you’ve done, all the everything that you never meant to them and all the moments they were never thinking of you, always. But don’t listen me. No, no. The biting force of reason is quick to be called con. The starving intellectual will be more than happy to do so, saying it doesn’t express itself in a way that’s proper. It is broken underneath his mighty, infallible thrall of words. I’m one of those melodramatic fools. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. The poetic fancy of life without the end is an illusion held only by those with minds not yet big enough to grasp the full scope of what they are a part of. But posses they not the greatest wisdom? Yes! The sense of wonder! The awe inspiring loyalty to the imagination! With absolute faith they can even create their own friends, deviations of their own minds to talk to, a grand tulpamanicing that takes adults years of forced meditative thought. You see Archer, If I kill you now, you’ll always be that colt. You don’t have to lose your wonder. I’ll immortalize it! Your friends, even Ms. Sunblossom, will think you an angel!”

There was silence as she finished. What was Archer supposed to say after something like that, he wondered? What was she talking about? Why was she talking about it? What happened to Pinkamena?

“Y-you…” Archer studdered, wanting to respond out of fear but not having the words.

“Well?” Pinkamena smiled. “What do you think?”

“You can’t make me want…” He paused, swallowing. “death.”

“Hahah!” Pinkamena chuckled. “I guess not. It was worth a try. Such a rationale only suits the living. The dead can never know their legacy. But I'm sure you would never consider that…” She trotted around to the foot of the table kicking something on the way. It sounded hollow, almost like a bucket. She hopped up on the table and approached Archer. He lifted his head, looking down the length of his body at the small pink mare standing at his feet, always the spark of malice in her eyes. Stepping over him, she straddled her hind legs over his torso, sitting and pressing her front hooves to his chest and leaning in close, her breath hot against Archer’s face and her mane falling down across his cheek.

“P-Pinkamena…” Archer stuttered nervously.

“What?” She hissed in his ear. “Aren’t you curious?”

“P-please…” He turned his head away. “I just wanna go home. Can we please? I’m scared. If this is a prank its not funny.” Archer started choking on his words, his eyes wetting the wood below him in streams. “Come on Pinkamena. We’re friends…right?”

“You know It’s great that I’m here,” She responded in disregard. “A filly like you is perfect for what I need. No prospects, no family…no friends.” She grinned at him, bringing her face all the way to Archer’s cheek even as he turned his had away from her as far as he could.

“But…” He trembled. “But…you played four square with us. Didn’t you have fun? Didn’t you…care?”

“I sure did,” She pressed her nose to the side of Archer’s head, her tongue extending from her lips and sliding across his fur. It was wet, covered in nervous sweat, and clammy. A shudder went through his body and he seemed to give up, stifling his shivers.

“This is what you wanted wasn’t it…?” He asked. Pinkamena sat up reaching over and plucking the knife from the table bringing it over and spinning it on her hoof, catching it deftly as it slid off.

“I did,” She said. “And I’m sure I didn’t.” Archer looked up at her, angry, but broken.

“You’re a monster.”

“That’s the spirit!” In one clean hissing swipe, the knife came down like a guillotine, slicing through flesh and cracking through bone. Archer wailed. It was worse than before. His screams sounded as though they would rip his throat apart and every end of the colt’s body convulsed, squirming desperately against his restraints. One of his wings buzzed, violently flailing, doing whatever it could to fight the pain. The other lay motionless, cut from its body and leaving behind nothing but a stub to do the flopping for it, its nerves clawing vainly at a phantom limb. The knife, buried in the wood past Archer’s wing was splattered with red, the wound flowing with fresh blood.

“Ahahaha!” Pinkamena laughed, pulling the knife back to her and watching Archer writhe beneath her. “You’re pretty loud.” She leaned in close, pressing their chests together, watching as his head jerked from side to side, his neck rippling as Archer’s vocal chords burned hoarsely against each other. “Don’t get too excited. If you pump your blood out too fast there won’t be any left for me.” Pinkamena went to kiss his neck, but in one swift jerk, Archer flicked his head up, bumping the knife in Pinkamena’s hoof, sending it slicing across the flesh just beneath her eye.

“Tch,” Her eye snapped shut and she quickly sat up, holding onto the blade but raising her other hoof to her cheek. She touched the wound, brushing some of blood across her fur. Opening her eye, she looked at her hoof, startled, but happily intrigued. Giving a lick, she grinned, watching as Archer’s writhing subsided into hopeless gasps for air, every corner of his mind clawing franticly for life.

“The survival instinct is truly the strongest!” Pinkamena yelled. Archer was too bewildered to speak anything back coherently. Pinkamena’s hoof swung down a second time, her blade taking away his second wing this time. He could do nothing but bellow more, blood curdling in his throat, his nerves being shattered by waves of obliterating pain. The only real word that came out of him was ‘no.’

“Haha!” Pinkamena loosed her mental restraints. A filly that wouldn’t respond past his screams was no longer entertaining. She turned the knife, yelling as she stabbed at any part of his body beneath her that struck her fancy.

“I’ll always remember you Archer! Always! Always! Always!” Every syllable was proceeded by a squishy, sloshing thump with each strike of the knife. From afar, the scene must have looked surreal, streams of blood trailing from every swing. By the time Pinkamena put the knife down, Archer was reduced to nothing more than a corpse full of holes, his face a congealed mass no longer recognizable. Drops of blood dirtied everything surrounding them and even Pinkamena’s fur was polka dotted in red. Pinkamena dismounted the body and rolling it off the table, let it fall to the dirt with a lifeless and gag inducing splat. Following after it, she hopped down, lifting the corpse up and putting it into the bucket at the foot of the table. She cut into the legs with the knife, letting whatever blood was left in the body drain into hollow basin. She smiled satisfactorily as she watched the bottom quickly disappear underneath the thick runny liquid, breathing it in, the uniquely bitter stench biting her nostrils. Leaving the body sit, Pinkamena moved back to the paper on the other table, snatching it from the surface and heading back to the bucket.

It was odd. She might, had she not just borne witness to Archer’s wailing agony firsthand, have thought she was deaf now. Compared to the chaos of only moments before, everything seemed deathly quiet save for the ringing in her ears. It was a residual curse for what she had done, temporary, and almost sweet.

Pinkamena set the paper next to the bucket, spreading it flat and dipping her hooves into the pooling mass of blood. From memory, Pinkamena set them to the paper, smearing the matter into a circle and with each subsequent dip, began to reconstruct the spell circle she had pressed her hooves to the first time.

“Blood,” She spoke to herself. “The blood of fillies is what we need. Paint, paint, paint in the circle and show us the future so we can pay heed. That’s it!” Pinkamena stopped, all the lines and patterns from the original circle replicated and in place. She picked up the page, spinning around kicking the bucket over, its contents flopping like a limp fish. Shifting over to the table, Pinkamena spread the page out over it, success glowing on her face. With one last façade, she willed herself to cry, letting two of her tears drop to the page, one from each eye just as she remembered.

“This is it,” She said to the air. “The second step. Only one to go. The future will be ours soon Pinkamena. I’ll get it for you. And we’ll be gods!” Pressing her hooves to the circle, the room lit up in thrashing red lightening bouncing from circle to circle until snapping its way to Pinkamena, biting at her body from every end. It hurt, but she laughed in the face of the pain, relishing in the fact that she knew it gave her power. Her mind would soon be clear. In one last sudden burst, Pinkamena was struck in the back of the head and recoiling forward, smacked her head against the table and fell still. The spell stopped and the room was silent.

Laying on the ground, the malice seemed to fade from Pinkamena’s face. Her mane was soft and innocent again and the farthest thing from a murderer is left unconscious and covered in blood.

_______________

It was cold. Before her eyes came open, Pinkamena knew she wasn’t in her straw bed like she should have been. Her fur tingled, curling and curving ever so subtly to keep her body’s warmth from escaping into the hard surface beneath her. Seeing the eerie light against wall she didn’t recognize, Pinkamena shot up in a panic reflex. She struck her head against something and was forced back to her stomach, curling up and wincing as she gripped the back of her head.

“Mmm,” She uttered shakily. Rolling over, Pinkamena slid her way out from under whatever was above her feeling the soil scratch against her skin as she scooted her way along, eyes closed, making sure that there was light above her before attempting to raise any limb above where it was. She opened her eyes and seeing the ceiling above her, assumed it was safe to sit up. She did and was greeted with the door to the basement room that she had found before only it was latched shut.

“Wh-” She stared at it, disorientated. “How did I…Archer?” She called the name faintly. It was the last thing she remembered. She had been talking to Archer in the hallway outside the sleeping room and then…and then…what? Her eyes flicked around listlessly, searching for an answer inside of her head, trying to retrace the memories that should have led here. They weren’t there. Hadn’t she gone back to bed? She remembered being uncomfortable and that was it; it was like there was space that her head had deliberately left blank just to confuse her.

“Wh-what is…” Pinkamena looked down at herself. Her fur was covered in splashes of red, spots she didn’t remember and when she touched them, they felt like sand paper, the substance dried and caked into her fur, packing it together in spiky textured masses. It was everywhere, on her hooves, on her legs, scattered down the length of her body, and even, she found as she touched them, on her face, across her eyes, and in her mane.

“Ms. Sunblossom?” Pinkamena squeaked. She knew it was no use. She had been here before and remembered at the very least that the last time she called for someone down here, no one answered. But that was all she remembered. Last time she had gotten herself down here with no memory of how she got out and now she was down here with no memory of how she arrived and was left, for all she knew, to find her own way.

Pinkamena stood and turning around immediately flinched back. On the table before her was a large piece of parchment smeared in red, singed at the edges, and looking like it was ages old.

“What is this stuff?” Pinkamena panicked. Her head turned to the side, catching a glimpse of something in her peripherals. She screamed. It was horrible. She had never seen anything so mutilated since the fire and it brought back the images with an intensity she never wanted. She could almost feel the heat of the blaze on her back and the stench, whether real or imagined, of burnt flesh. She toppled back, tripping as she called hopelessly to the air.

“Ms. Sunbloss-! Mmm,” As she belted the name something stifled her as she hit the ground, a strange numbing sensation coming over her as she wrestled against the hoof in her mouth. Somepony was standing over her and the light fanned out over the shadow of their head, making the bladed pair of eyes stand out in the shade.

“Hush now,” The figure said pulling its hoof away as it started. “I’ve grown tired of screaming. At least for a little while.” Pinkamena rolled over, quickly springing to her feet and backing away. Unfortunately, it meant the mangled mess was behind her and between it and her likeness before her, she felt suddenly paralyzed.

“Wh-what did you do?” Pinkamena asked it only to inspire a smile on its face, an expression that was beginning to feel like its default, possessed with an eerie happiness that reveled in suffering.

“You mean we!” It said elated. “We did it Pinkamena! And you were perfect. So piteous and sweet in your demeanor and so helplessly seductive that the poor colt had no choice but to follow you. Were we only done Pinkamena. But once more! I get to see you beguile one more foundling from the mess hall! It’ll be grand…” The figure seemed to daydream wistfully casting her gaze about the room.

“What are you talking about?” Pinkamena’s knees shook, the presence of the thing behind her pressing on her senses.

“You don’t remember?” The figure relished in her cluelessness. “But we were beautiful! Coercing him that way, so trusting and such a wonderful friend. Archer’s blood is as good as any.”

“Archer?” Pinkamena’s fear only lifted for a moment, because in all the unfamiliarity, Archer was a name she recognized. But it quickly settled itself in again, a force that was almost tangibly pushing on her nerves. “What happened? Where is he?”

“Oh you silly thing,” the figure mocked her, approaching and brushing her face with its tail. Pinkamena scratched the resulting itching sensation away, keeping her eyes on her doppelganger. “It’s no secret. He’s what you see, a great sacrifice.” Pinkamena went pale, turning her head to the bloodied mass that was tipped over, flopped lifelessly half outside a tin bucket. She suppressed a gag reflex, shaking her head. It wasn’t even recognizable, this couldn’t be him. It had to be a lie. This horrible voice was lying to her.

“No…” she muttered. Suddenly she could feel the figure’s breath against her neck behind her. It whispered in her ear,

“You’re pretty good with a knife…” sending ice through her senses.

“NO!” She screamed, attempting to run away. She got no further than a single step and she was hung up, grasped by the neck and clotheslined, her hind legs flying into the air in front of her.

“Ahgk,” She choked, flopping to the ground and gasping for air. Pinkamena didn’t get up, but rolled over, burying her face in her hooves and weeping. It was the only way she could hide from her own twisted face.

“Why…?” She whimpered. “Why did you do this?”

“Me?” It questioned. “It was you! You and your crazy desires!”

“Liar!” Pinkamena’s voice shook. “Archer was my friend, I’d never do this! I…I liked him…”

“As well as any child can!” The figure agreed. “But you still drove the knife down the sockets of his eyes.”

“No!” Pinkamena protested in hopeless sobs. “It was you!”

“I AM you!” It yelled back at her. “I am your hope! Your future!”

“I hate you…” The figure stood over her and leaning down brought its hooves to her face. With one motion it lifted her from the ground, staring into her wet eyes nose to nose, the mucus on Pinkamena’s nose cold against it’s snout as it mixed with tears.

“Don’t say such a dreadful thing,” It consoled. “You don’t hate yourself. You hate everypony else don’t you? All those puffy fools that pretend to care.” It nuzzled their noses together as if trying to be affectionate, but Pinkamena writhed, forcing hers away only for it to be brought back by the figure’s forceful hooves. Their intensity and presence were undeniable, but there was something about them that seemed empty. “How insulting right?” It continued. “In the midst of despair how can anypony pretend to care? They’re just talking at you to make you feel better aren’t they? You know it deep down. Even Ms. Sunblossom is just another voice, a voice trying out of all it’s happy go lucky pretentiousness to look like it’s trying to lift you up, save you from your inevitable suicide. But we’re smarter than them aren’t we Pinkamena? We know the nature of their insults and we know they can’t possibly care. After all, who can know the hell inside the head of an orphan filly? Isn’t that it? How can anypony care who doesn’t share the cast? No one out there cares and it’s insulting to pretend that they do.” The figure dropped her. Pinkamena fell flat, and vomited. Her stomach gave a lurch and in a single wave all the nothing she had eaten in the past hours came up in an amalgamation of disgustingly chunky orangish yellow fluid. It hurt, the pain rippling through her stomach forcing her into a convulsion that tasted bitter as much as it burned in her throat. She coughed, spitting out the rest as it dangled from her mouth in a trail of drool while the figure turned away from her, standing up on two legs, a knife on the ground to its right.

“But what of such attitude?” It yelled to the ceiling. “It’s only spite that resonates in such words. But I applaud you, really. It takes courage to be a pessimist, living life staring at the dark end of the tunnel. You have no family right? Why not make a deal with the reaper and end your suffering? One less mare for the world to try to pander. We’ll outwit the cynicists though won’t we Pinkamena? We’ll grab our future with our own hooves! Now show me! Show us our future vision!”

Leaning to the side, the mare scooped up the knife and tossed it into the air above her, throwing her front hooves up in glee as she balanced upright, watching as the blade twirled gracefully through the air. Pinkamena’s head felt an aching wave and her tail suddenly began twitching uncontrollably. She couldn’t stop it and her anxiety was more than likely the cause, her stomach still contracting in residual tremors. The knife, finished with it’s ascent, came plummeting back down blade first. It hissed straight through the figure before Pinkamena without resistance and stabbed into the dirt, the handle vibrating. Pinkamena’s tail ceased and she was finally able to hold it still. Nothing had happened and the figure came back down to all fours and turned to the knife like something should have been different.

“What’s this?” It questioned. “Where are the visions like before, the active foresight, the rock farm!?” It seemed distraught, something Pinkamena hadn’t seen from it before. It was always full of malice, and now it seemed vulnerable. Maybe this was her chance.

“What’s wrong?” It shifted quickly to the table, opening a large tome and with the familiar thud of the front cover, Pinkamena recalled a rush of memories like a wave of bad nostalgia. She remembered opening that book herself the first time, seeing all of its bewildering scribbles and lists of everything she had never heard of.

“I don’t understand,” It said. “I drew the circle just as it appears. In the blood of a filly!” Pinkamena thanked herself for being naturally clumsy and stupid. It had undoubtedly rubbed off on her double.

“There was a lot more on those lists,” She told it. There was one line in particular that Pinkamena seemed to remember from the end of the book that mattered. “an imperfect mixture will give imperfect results,” She repeated it. The figure cast its first truly hateful glare at her and suddenly, without being moved, Pinkamena found herself suspended in the air by it’s hooves. It closed them about her throat, strangling her in frustration.

“I had the necessities!” It denied. “Your job is to get me another!” It forced her to the ground and proceed to pummel her. Its hooves swung in arcs, striking across her jaws, her head recoiling like a pendulum as the blows jostled it from side to side. “Now go get our future!” It yelled, and with one last strike, it picked her up and threw her toward the doorway. Pinkamena landed on her stomach and it immediately gave another heave and the last of whatever it had left soaked into the soil in front of her. Her throat and tongue felt scratchy and parched now and she gasped in breaths as her lungs heaved along with her abdomen. A wound under her eye had reopened and Pinkamena felt the blood trail ooze lazily down her cheek. She wiped it away, only for more to follow and replace it. It was suddenly quiet, the atmosphere calmed. Looking behind her, the figure was gone. Standing up, there was nothing left but her and an unrecognizable corpse that supposedly belonged to her friend.

And worse, Pinkamena hung her head, she had done it. The blood, the cuts, and her singularity all proved that. The figure didn’t seem like it was lying to her and if she were to take its word, they were one in the same. She teared up, looking at the butchered body and turning, ran from it. She slammed into the door, full body, recoiling off it when it didn’t open. She fumbled clumsily with the latch, but in time managed to loosen it, tossing it to the side where it hung limply, grinding heavily against the wooden door as she flung it open. Pinkamena was glad to see stairs leading up into the darkness. She didn’t care where they led, as long as they were a way out or at least away from here. Bolting up them, she left the room full of her nightmares behind, tears mixing with the blood on her cheek following her in a trail as she ran. The narrow corridor spiraled upward, a hopeful sign and when she finally pushed her way out of the floorboard she recognized where she was. The hidden door flipped shut behind her and in her despair, Pinkamena kept running. There was no safe haven for her now. She was a killer, a horribly maniacal and merciless lunatic who robbed children of their lives in a dungeon at night. She was worse than the blaze that swept away her town. At least it had taken lives in indifference and without prejudice. She had done it for her own sick, selfish, and hidden reasons, reasons she didn’t even know she had. There was no way for her to know how it happened, but something had given life to the twisted, insane portion of her head that had lain masked under her shyness. Now it was toying with her like a puppet master, awake and pulling at her strings from its cage in the corner. Poor Archer. Her pity was all she could offer. She had meant none of it, and yet some part of her had wanted nothing more than this.

Running far past the sleeping room, Pinkamena found herself in the mess hall suddenly wondering where she was going. She slowed to a trot, quieting her steps, suddenly aware her racket might wake somepony. Yet there was no question as to why this was the place that her hooves has taken her. It was her instinct, the one option she knew in her small world. Ms. Sunblossom’s room was back here and her mind, rattled and lost as it was, still knew the way to her one safe haven. But was it safe? Pinkamena looked at herself, she was still covered in blood that wasn’t hers. She hadn’t been in worse shape since the fire. For how different the occurrences were, this was like a repetition. Despair, no matter the form, still seemed the same.

Pinkamena entered the dark corridor adjacent to the mess hall, its lanterns out for the night. As uncertain as she was about confronting Ms. Sunblossom this way, this was the most certain thing she could count on. Going back to bed was no question. How could she sleep now? She paced back in forth in apprehension outside the room at the end of the hall. The door was shut and she knew if she wanted in, she would have to knock. But the idea of making noise in her state seemed frightening, like the slightest word would indict her, the manner of her crime unquestionable. She was covered in evidence and Celestia herself, despite her infinite kindness, would find no place for a wretched filly like her in Equestria. This feeling was worse than the fire. For the first time, she felt she deserved to die.

Curling up in a ball, Pinkamena settled outside the door, unwilling to reveal herself. Maybe she was a coward. She felt like one. Inevitably, she shivered and wrapping her tail around to her face didn’t help. It wasn’t the cold that made her shake and in the dark she was unable to suppress her fearful whimpering, sounding like a poor, lost, beaten dog. She sniffled several times and the sound seemed louder than her screams had. She wiped her eyes, hoping in some wild circumstance that dawn would come and the blood and vomit would evaporate from her fur and she could will herself to forget what she had seen. It wasn’t so and Pinkamena’s heart throbbed, missing two or more disposable beats as she heard sound from within Ms. Sunblossom’s room. She inhaled, stifling her whining, realizing just how loud she had been. There was shifting and shortly after, the soft thump of hooves against wood making their way to the door. Pinkamena wanted to run away again, but there was nowhere better to go, so her better nature kept her from fleeing even as she stood up, facing the door in anticipation, the nerves in her body jumping without her consent. Her ears flopped, slapping the side of her head, her eyes fluttering in tandem as the feeling rippled into her knees causing them to twitch uncontrollably. It was completely random, a jittering that Pinkamena assumed was the result of her frightened nerves, but there was a strange succession to it. Her body stopped and the door opened. As it swung back slowly on its hinges, Ms. Sunblossom shifted cautiously out from behind it, looking over Pinkamena’s head, drowsy, suspicious, and still in her socks.

“Hello?” Ms. Sunblossom said. Pinkamena tried to say something, but the words stuck in her throat, getting caught against her scratchy vocal chords. She kept trying, her mouth open, but nothing coming out as Ms. Sunblossom scanned over her.

“H…” She managed finally. She must have been trying to say hello, but only the first consonant came out in a forced exhale.

“Hm?” Ms. Sunblossom looked down, squinting in the dark at the silhouette of a filly. “Pinkamena?” By whatever distinguishing feature Ms. Sunblossom knew, the mare recognized her. “Dear, what are you doing out here? Did you have another nightmare?” Pinkamena nodded. She was close enough. Yet Pinkamena couldn’t cry. She couldn’t do anything. Now that she was in front of Ms. Sunblossom her mind seemed to have sucked away any ability for her to express emotion. She sat there, wondering why her caretaker hadn’t already killed her. Wasn’t she still wearing her guilt?

“Hmm,” Ms. Sunblossom considered. “Come on then,” She gestured for Pinkamena to follow her inside her room and mechanically she did without trembling or hesitation. “What’s all over your fur dear?” Pinkamena didn’t answer, but knew something had been wrong. There hadn’t been enough light for Ms. Sunblossom to see clearly and as soon as she had touched the filly’s fur, she had felt the spots, the hardened, caked fur and the cold skin. Leaving the door slightly ajar, Ms. Sunblossom moved for a lantern above the desk at the side of the room. With a click, it’s flame sparked to life and the room was filled with its pale yellow illumination. Ms. Sunblossom turned back to her and gave a shriek. It was loud and it stung Pinkamena’s ears.

“Pinkamena are you alright!?” Ms. Sunblossom sat hurriedly in front of her, inspecting the filly’s wounds with her two front hooves, Turning her face every way looking for cuts. Outside the room there was a panic of muffled movement and the sound of opening doors, the hall lighting up.

“Pinkamena, what happened?”

“It’s not mine,” Pinkamena said, her eyes empty and her voice listless. Ms. Sunblossom didn’t hear her. The door was forced open as Pinkamena replied and her words were lost to the striking of the wooden door against the wall. A tan furred, chestnut maned stallion stood at the threshold holding a lantern up with his magic.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as other’s piled in behind him.

“Chester, Go get the first aid kit,” Ms. Sunblossom told him urgently. He didn’t hesiate, taking one look at Ms. Sunblossom then at Pinkamena and took off down the hall, a group of other adults eyeing the scene from outside the room, murmuring.

“It’s not mine,” Pinkamena repeated to assure her caretaker.

“What?” Ms. Sunblossom asked, her wild concern turning mystified. “Pinkamena what did you say?”

“It’s not mine,” She said again, staring straight ahead past Ms. Sunblossom.

“What are you talking about?” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Honey…?” She turned Pinkamena’s head toward her, the filly’s gaze half present. “Pinkamena? Pinkamena!” Ms. Sunblossom gave her a light jostle, shaking Pinkamena from her empty daydream. “Look at me.” She did and she could see Ms. Sunblossom was scared, haunted by the implication of what she had heard. “Honey? Whose blood is this?” She figured it out. It was almost a relief. Pinkamena’s eyes filled with water. It felt like she could breathe again. As long as Ms. Sunblossom knew she wasn’t innocent, she could cry. Pinkamena dissolved into a piteous bout of sobbing, unable to answer, content simply to let them know that the blood on her hooves wasn’t hers. It was sompony else’s. She was guilty.

“Shhh, shhh,” Ms. Sunblossom brought the filly to her chest, sheltering her in her hooves, brushing Pinkamena’s mane and hushing her to try to quiet her wailing. “Hush. You’re okay now.” She wasn’t. Pinkamena knew she was far from okay. That thing was still around somewhere and it could choose when and where to appear. It was only a matter of time before it showed up again.

Presently, the stallion from before came running back into the room with a white tin case with a red cross painted on the front. He presented in to her, but she waved it away.

“Wh-” The stallion was confused.

“Call the guard,” Ms. Sunblossom whispered to him, the other adults filtering away from the door.

“Why?” He questioned. “Aren’t you overreac-”

“Just do it!” She shot back. “We don’t know who hurt her.” He nodded and leaving the first aid kit next to Ms. Sunblossom, took off once again. Pinkamena didn’t know what she meant by guard; she was content to be able to cry into the only set of welcoming hooves she knew. The few moments Pinkamena was cradled in Ms. Sunblossom’s embrace, her mane brushed in in calming strokes, were the most blissful she had experienced in her memory. She would have continued cry as long as she could just to remain there, but before long Ms. Sunblossom lifted her away, looking her in the eye with an empathetic gaze.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said earnestly. “Can you tell me who did this? It’s important.” Pinkamena shook her head.

“Pinkamena, please. How did this happen?” It hurt. Ms. Sunblossom was looking at her with an expression that cared so honestly that Pinkamena’s refusal to tell the truth seemed just as damning as her murder. With every action, she was sealing her fate. But how, how could she tell Ms. Sunblossom that Archer was dead and it was her fault? Her reflection had stepped out of the mirror and was tormenting her existence and anypony who shared in it. Would she even believe it?

“Alright,” Ms. Sunblossom sighed after an interval without a response. “I’ll let you think about it. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Ms. Sunblossom removed her socks, biting the edges and tugging them off, leaving them on the floor. Then, the way cat’s carry their young, Ms. Sunblossom picked Pinkamena up by the skin of her neck carrying her out of the room. Pinkamena hung loosely as she was brought across the hall, some of the other adults still in the corridor, eyeing her and whispering their rumors in each other’s ears as Ms. Sunblossom opened the door across the way and disappeared from view. A light clicked on, the door closed, and Pinkamena found herself being set down on tiled, ceramic floor that was cold against her hooves. There was a metallic squeak and the gushing of water as Ms. Sunblossom pulled a crank on the wall, filling a wooden basin up with stored, preheated water.

“In,” Ms. Sunblossom said flatly. Pinkamena wondered if Ms. Sunblossom wasn’t upset with her. Hesitating, she stepped into the lukewarm water as Ms. Sunblossom filled a smaller bucket that was nearby. The water soaked into her fur and it alone made her hooves feel cleaner, as if the water itself somehow purified the guilt they carried. Yet even if the blood was gone, it still pervaded every corner of her head and for now, she couldn’t see a future where it wouldn’t bother her with the same intensity every day for every moment as long as Archer was never avenged.

Without warning, Pinkamena’s tail spasmed furiously, tossing the water around before stopping as she was doused over the head with a cascade of warm soapy water. She sputtered, her mane dripping onto her nose as Ms. Sunblossom picked up a sponge and started stirring up the suds and scrubbing her back. Pinkamena sneezed, her body splashing the water as it jerked. Wiping her nose, she pushed her mane to the side, letting the drops slide down the hairs and harmlessly into the basin. Ms. Sunblossom’s cleaning was gentle and thorough, making sure to get all of the red blights out of her fur and applying extra shampoo to get it out of her mane and tail. The scrubbing was relaxing, practically a massage, especially on her back. But even though it calmed her, she didn’t feel like she deserved it. Even the taste of soap on her tongue was a welcome replacement to the bitterness that had been lingering there. Still, she should have been punished, not rewarded for her actions. The whole scenario seemed backwards. The light searing of the cut under her eye from the soap was her only retribution, barely a slap on the wrist. Her mind kept crying out, ‘Ms. Sunblossom I’m guilty can’t you see?’ but nothing came out of her mouth. She was rendered mute by fear. Nopony would love her if they knew she was a murderer. She may as well have taken her doppelganger’s advice and hung herself had she known the vice that would grip her nerves, that would bar her from admitting her guilt, penning her up eternally in her own self-pity. Not even Ms. Sunblossom’s gentle touch, or her calm, honest, sweet voice could break her. The balmy cleansing water was washing over nothing more than a prison. Pinkamena was trapped inside herself.

When all the spots were out, Ms. Sunblossom lifted Pinkamena from the basin and, opening a tall wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, tossed a towel over the filly’s head. It formed a nice canopy and Pinkamena would have been content to hide under it for as long as she could. She wasn’t given such privilege and justly so. Ms. Sunblossom lifted the cloth from her head began drying the filly’s body off using a comb afterwards to tidy and straighten her mane.

When Pinkamena finally exited the washroom, she was the cleanest looking criminal she knew. Then again, her young mind didn’t know any others, only herself and the fire that led her here.

“Well?” Ms. Sunblossom said in the doorway, balancing the basin of used water on her back. “Have you had a chance to think?” Pinkamena didn’t answer, keeping her back to Ms. Sunblossom.

“Well,” Ms. Sunblossom told her. “I’m going to empty this water. I hope you’ll change your mind by then. Stay in my room.” Pinkamena did as she was told, walking heavily back into the picture littered room while Ms. Sunblossom went to get rid of the soiled bathwater. That water had Archer’s blood in it, it occurred to her. The last of him was going to be dumped into the soil to feed the grass. At least that much was going to use, the rest was rotting below her, feeding nothing but the lines of the tainted spell circles and barren dirt.

Pinkamena sat at the foot of Ms. Sunblossom’s bed, waiting for the inevitable self indictment that would soon be forced on her. Behind the drawn curtains she could see hints of light, the sky beginning to brighten as Celestia raised the sun. Had she really been out that long again? This was the second time her night had been lost to a purpose she couldn’t remember and at this rate she would become nocturnal, more of an owl than a pony.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Pinkamena turned abruptly, stiffening to find the stallion from before back, but with a white Pegasus clad in gold armor. She recognized him, one of Canterlot’s royal guards. Everypony, even the fillies knew them. They were around on occasion, but more often than not merely to drop off newly estranged fillies or on a better note, to take them to their new families. Their presence was always double sided and even though Pinkamena had been brought here by those same wings, they frightened her now.

“What happened to Ms. Sunblossom?” The unicorn from before asked.

“I’m here,” A voice came from the hallway. Pinkamena’s tension loosened. If she was going to have to explain herself to anypony, she didn’t want them to be strangers. “Pinkamena?” Ms. Sunblossom made her way past the two in the doorway, approaching her and stopping when she was a few feet away.

“Well?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. “Are you ready to give me an answer?”

“No.” Pinkamena looked away from her.

“Pinkamena,” Ms. Sunblossom said, stern, a new tension in her voice.

“You’ll just think I’m stupid,” Pinkamena protested. It wasn’t entirely what she meant. She wanted to say that they would never believe her, but she supposed thinking her stupid was along the same line, only more derisive.

“Hey,” Ms. Sunblossom sat down next to Pinkamena, putting her hoof around her. It was warm and smelled more like the soap she had been using than Pinkamena did, flowery and sweet. All this caring and warmth that she didn’t deserve, it wasn’t right. “You’re not stupid. Who told you that?”

“I did,” Pinkamena told her. Ms. Sunblossom hesitated, blinking bewilderedly.

“Pinkamena that’s not important,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “We need to know what happened. You’re not stupid. You can tell us who hurt you.”

“It was…” Pinkamena swallowed, following up quickly: “It was Archer.” What was she saying? She hid her face away in Ms. Sunblossom’s leg, hiding the deceit that would be apparent if she let them see it.

“What?” Ms. Sunblossom glanced to the two in the doorway, the guard remaining stoic, while the unicorn gave a distanced shrug, not even sure what was going on himself.

“He said he was going to hurt himself,” Pinkamena said. “He ran off with a knife and I tried to chase him.” This was it, Pinkamena thought, she was even relinquishing her guilt. She was truly a monster.

“Chester,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Can you and the guard go check the sleeping room for Archer. It’s about time for the fillies to wake up anyway.” He nodded and the guard turned to follow the unicorn before Chester had time to awkwardly turn around and gesture for him to do so, looking a bit clumsy and inept. After an awkward halt, they went urgently on their way. Pinkamena was staring at the floor, pretending to shy away behind Ms. Sunblossom, her eyes wide, horrified with herself.

“Do you know where he went dear?” Ms. Sunblossom asked. Without looking up, Pinkamena shook her head.

“I…Pinkamena…” Ms. Sunblossom hesitated. “Are you telling me the truth?” Pinkamena looked up at her, stunned. She should have known better.

“I really don’t know where he is,” She said. Perhaps that much was true. Archer’s body was certainly where she had left it, but where the filly himself was, was past her understanding. It was in the place riddled at in the speeches of her doppelganger with its talks about death that she didn’t comprehend. Wherever Archer was, Ms. Sunblossom wasn’t going to find him. “I’m sorry,” Pinkamena whimpered. This apology was predicated more around her lie than not being able to find Archer, but she knew how Ms. Sunblossom would see it. Yet it wasn’t for Ms. Sunblossom; Pinkamena uttered it to console herself, letting the second meaning fly to the air because her grief couldn’t wait until she was alone for an apology.

“I’m sorry,” She repeated, feeling Ms. Sunblossom’s pitying gaze on her. She was left without a reply. A set of hooves trotting their way toward the room, averted Ms. Sunblossom’s attention. A stallion, a familiar lanky pony with a navy blue pelt, cantered into the doorway, curious above anything else.

“Emese?” He questioned, his eyes meeting the two, one huddled under the other. “Oh,” He seemed to think he was out of place. “Well, sorry to weasel my way into your mother daughter thing here,” he said. Was that it, Pinkamena thought, was that really what it looked like? Pinkamena didn’t feel like a child right now; she felt fake, her face, once that of a filly, was only plastic. Walter, to her, couldn’t have been more wrong.

“What’s all the commotion?” He asked. “I saw the royal guard. What brings them here?”

“Your timing is perfect Walter,” Ms. Sunblossom told him.

“It is?” Walter cocked his head, but seemed rather pleased with the coincidence.

“Archer is apparently missing. Pinkamena says he attacked her.”

“Himself,” Pinkamena corrected her, regretting every moment she ran along with her fibbing.

“What?” Walter seemed surprised. “That little guy? But I saw him just yesterday. Little tike couldn’t have been happier.”

“I don’t have time to explain,” Ms. Sunblossom said. “Can you watch her? I need to help the guards look for him.”

“Anything I can do to help,” Walter agreed happily. Even presented with the darkest circumstances Walter reacted smoothly and without spite. Pinkamena envied him, his clear conscious, his light demeanor, his ability to smile and make others do the same. Why couldn’t that be her? Why was she the monster?

“Thank you,” Ms. Sunblossom stood up. “Behave now Pinkamena. Maybe you could tell Walter what you can’t tell me.” Pinkamena’s ears drooped. She knew, Ms. Sunblossom knew. Pinkamena felt like an idiot. Had she thought Ms. Sunblossom was stupid? Of course she was going to be able to tell when a child was lying; she probably dealt with fillies far more cunning than Pinkamena was. Just as Ms. Sunblossom was about to turn away, Pinkamena stopped her.

“Wait,” She said and hopped forward, wrapping her front hooves around the mare and stretching herself upward until her lips met Ms. Sunblossom’s forehead. Ms. Sunblossom had done it to her before, and she wanted to return some sign of affection and this seemed like the only one she could remember. A hug wouldn’t have been enough, it was too casual, but Pinkamena clung to Ms. Sunblossom even after she lowered her head, a simple peck to the forehead all she could think to do. To Pinkamena’s astonishment. Ms. Sunblossom touched a hoof to the filly’s chin and lifting her head up, returned the gesture, somehow with far more feeling it seemed like than Pinkamena ever could. Pinkamena felt happy, but somehow humiliated as well, shown up at her own game.

“You’ll be alright,” Ms. Sunblossom assured her, taking Pinkamena’s hooves in her own and setting the filly back to the floor.

“Well isn’t that grand!” Walter exclaimed.

“You didn’t see anything,” Ms. Sunblossom smiled at him.

“Oh no,” He agreed. “But I can’t help but feel. And boy did I feel that. Why I-”

“Hush,” She raised a hoof at him and made her way to the door. “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Walter said. “I’ll have plenty of time for that.” Ms. Sunblossom laughed, but it was a misty sort of laugh, the kind uttered when someone is grasping at every moment of relief they can get from a crisis at hand.

“I’ll be back.” With that, Ms. Sunblossom exited, picking up the spare first aid kit and turning down the hall to search for a pony Pinkamena knew she would never find. And now she was left with Walter, a pony that she didn’t understand the way she understood Ms. Sunblossom. Yet following their recent conversation, Pinkamena felt like she didn’t understand anything. The voice in the basement made life sound all too dark and complicated for her. She wanted something simpler. Walter was simpler, but not what she thought of when simplicity came to mind. They stood in an estranged silence, Walter looking brightly down at her, unaware of what she had done, expecting her to say something while she shrunk behind her mane, distracting herself with the floor.

“Well filly,” Walter said, “Care to share? What’s got everypony in such a bustle?” Pinkamena was afraid she might have to answer him. Yet just when she though she had nothing else to say, something occurred to her. She had been hesitant to ask Ms. Sunblossom because she thought it would seem strange presenting a rumor straight to the source. Pinkamena would offend Ms. Sunblossom, confuse her, or worst of all, bring back an unwanted memory. But Walter had none of the attachments to the question that Ms. Sunblossom would and better still, he might know something. He seemed like a knowledgeable pony, good with the other fillies despite just being one of the cooks.

“Walter?” Pinkamena started quietly as if she needed to be sure he was paying attention; she didn’t want to have to ask a second time.

“What’s on your mind kid?” He was more than willing to listen and his attentive, kind demeanor put her as much at ease as she could be in her state.

“Is it true?” Pinkamena asked. “Did Ms. Sunblossom really have a daughter?” There was a pause, but Pinkamena didn’t look at Walter to see his reaction; she could only guess by the delay that her question had at least caught him by surprise.

“Who told you that?” Walter asked.

“I overhead some other fillies talking about it,” Pinkamena answered. It was a stupid question, she told herself. Walter’s confusion was enough to tell her it wasn’t true. She should have known better than to take the word of two half informed colts as truth.

“Her name was Aster,” Walter said almost to himself. Pinkamena looked up at him, his eyes suddenly lost in the mist of memory. “That seems like it was ages ago.”

“You…you mean…” Pinkamena trailed off as Walter snapped out of his reverie, brightening when he saw that she was looking at him now.

“It’s true,” Walter said. “I don’t know how your little friends knew that, but either they had a good source or a lucky rumor. Although…” Walter stopped, frowning, something she had never really seen him do before. It gave him an air of seriousness that a simple frown wouldn’t have done for anypony else.

“What?” Pinkamena egged him on eagerly, astonished that the colts had been right, but not wanting her surprise to stop her from learning more. Who was Aster? Why wasn’t she around?

“Ms. Sunblossom isn’t particularly fond of the subject,” Walter considered.

“Why?

“Did your friends happen to mention that nopony knows what happened to her?” Pinkamena thought for a second. She was fairly certain they had, but never said why.

“Not even you?” Pinkamena asked, sounding, albeit inadvertently, like she admired Walter as a pony who seemed to know everything a situation called for.

“No,” Walter admitted. “You know actually…” Walter walked past Pinkamena to the desk at the side of the room and opened one of the small top drawers. Shifting some papers aside, his hoof came back out bearing a small piece of paper, a photo. Walter turned to her and held it up.

“It’s a bit embarrassing that I still know where this is,” He said. “Best not tell her I showed you though.” Walter winked at her, but Pinkamena was far too entranced by the photo to notice. It was of Ms. Sunblossom no doubt. She was sitting on a red and white checkerboard picnic cloth, a basket next to her in the grass and a filly. Pinkamena’s eyes gazed over the small pony several times and her familiar curled yellow-orange mane and soft light tan fur. She was a miniaturized version of Ms. Sunblossom, the only key difference: no cutie mark. Aster, the name echoed in Pinkamena’s head, Aster Sunblossom. She stared, longer than she should have, at the filly flopped across her mother’s back, smiling amidst a fit of giggles, her mother smiling affectionately back. Yet something occurred to her, a poking at the back of her mind. She couldn’t tell if it was the voice again or if her intuition was trying to tell her something or both. Regardless, Pinkamena looked up at Walter after the long interval. He was looking a bit apprehensive, wanting to put the photo away should Ms. Sunblossom happen to come back.

“Who took the picture?” Pinkamena asked. It was a reasonable observation and it took Walter off guard once again. He flipped the photo back into the drawer, burying it under the papers and closing it away.

“Her…father,” Walter said slowly.

“What happened to him?” Pinkamena asked. Walter looked distraught, something in his head visibly restraining him from giving her an answer.

“I…can’t tell you that,” He said.

“Why not?”

“Oh dear. I’ve said too much haven’t I?” Walter stood apprehensively, Pinkamena’s hurt gaze wondering why the pony who had all the answers was unable to give her the one she wanted.

“Ms. Sunblossom!” Pinkamena darted from the room, galloping as fast as her small hooves could take her.

“Pinkamena!” Walter called after her, but as he followed Pinkmena, using her tail like a hook, swung the door shut as she exited, slamming it in the Stallion’s face. Her tail seemed to stretch and recoil like a rubber band, grabbing the door and forcing it shut like an extra hoof. Pinkamena apologized internally for her actions as she ran, but she didn’t have time to turn back. Walter would want to stop her. It wasn’t that his words had startled her or that his refusal to tell her the truth made her want to tell on the Stallion like a baby crying to her mother when another foal takes her toy. No, it wasn’t anything like that. There was some strange aura of forbiddenness in the information that Walter withheld from her that made her fear for her caretaker. Ms. Sunblossom was in danger. Not in a physical sense from Walter or the unnamed father who took the photograph of the mare and her daughter, but from herself. Pinkamena realized that Ms. Sunblossom was a torn mare, she was in danger from her own sadness. For once, maybe Pinkamena could do something about it. She knew the pain of losing family and the despairing depths she had witnessed at the hooves of her own bloody deed were enough for her to relate with any sadness Ms. Sunblossom might feel. The poor pony, Pinkamena thought. This entire time Ms. Sunblossom had been caring for all these orphaned fillies and in the process became somewhat of an orphan herself. How much of her pain was she keeping inside? She could save her from that, Pinkamena knew she could. This was her-

Pinkamena felt her knees pinch, the nerves snapping at her in some kind of warning. She was strung to an abrupt halt, a sudden vice about her throat jerking her to a stop and throwing her down to the hallway floor.

“Idiot!” A voice spat in her face. Pinkamena opened her eyes to find herself glaring angrily down at her, her bladed eyes cutting across her own.

“What petty arrogance compels you!? You think you can ‘save’ her? You‘re naïve!” Pinkamena coughed, sitting up and shoving the figure away from her. It’s body seemed weightless, like pushing air. But it moved nonetheless, keeping its eyes fixed on her. Yet as she glared back, a smile crossed its face slowly as an idea crept into its head.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking she needs you,” It told her. “You were the mess when you arrived here. She was fine. If anything, you cause her the most pain.”

“That’s not true,” Pinkamena stomped back at it.

“Hah!” It snickered. “Even if it’s not, you will.” In a single blink, Pinkamena found herself being whisked away in her own body without her consent. Morning was in full bloom now and the sun slanted brightly in the windows as her legs carried away around corners. She arrived in a place she didn’t want to see anymore. It was that old unused room with the two small windows that seemed to distinguish it from the others. Pinkamena’s double walked seemingly out from inside of her, looking like a spirit trotting out its body. Yet as Pinkamena discovered, she was the spirit. The one left in control of her real body was the one with the bladed eyes. Even as she tried to run, something stopped her and when she reached out to grab the unmoved fallen nightstand, her hoof passed through it.

“You just wait there,” The figure said to her.

“What are you doing?” Pinkamena asked and it calmly placed its hoof on a leg of the night stand, scooting it across the floor only a little as if to show who was in control.

“You want to end Ms. Sunblossom’s pain?” It asked. “You will!” The figure turned away from her, peeking around the threshold of the doorway. Out in the hall, she saw Walter make his entrance, turning in all directions frantically. He turned down a separate hall to the right and the figure grinned, finding Ms. Sunblossom follow only a few minutes in his wake, alone, still with the first aid kit grasped in her mouth.

“Hahaha!” It chuckled. “Could I ask for more?”

“Stop!” Pinkamena cried, but even now her voice seemed distant, and shoved to the side; the figure ignored her.

“Archer!” It screamed as loud as it could. “Somepony bring the first aid kit!” Pinkamena’s eyes widened. She hoped with any amount of desire she might have in her state, that Ms. Sunblossom wouldn’t fall for it, or she would at least bring one of the guards with her. Her double’s ears stood straight up as hers drooped to the side of her head, both of them hearing only one pair of hooves gallop down the hall. Pinkamena tried to scream, but nothing happened. Her mouth came open and a wave of nothingness came from her throat. There wasn’t even air in her screams. The figure waited patiently and exactingly, it’s hooves poised, one wrapped around the leg of the nightstand. The patter of hooves neared and there was nothing Pinkamena could do.

As soon as Ms. Sunblossom’s head crossed the threshold, Pinkamena watched herself lift the nightstand in one hoof and in a single arching swoop, strike Ms. Sunblossom in the back of the head. There was a crack, perhaps the table, perhaps the mare’s skull, but Ms. Sunblossom tripped and propelled forward by momentum, tumbled hooves over her head, bending and twisting like a rag doll. The first aid kit clattered to the floor and against the mare’s teeth with hollow, tinny clunks as she managed to keep it clenched in her jaw as she smacked against the wood floor. Watching it was like watching one’s self kill themselves. It shouldn’t have been possible, but she was left with the aftermath of Ms. Sunblossom twisted and moaning on the floor, her own hooves to thank or blame for the pain.

Pinkamena watched herself calmly set the nightstand down—the leg she had used as a handle splintered and bent where it met the table—and trot gleefully to Ms. Sunblossom, wrapping a hoof around the mare’s leg and dragging the half conscious pony to the corner of the room.

“This circle will be the last,” She said, looking at her own faded horrified, spectating face. “And what a special circle it will be.”

“Stop!” Pinkamena called to herself. It was useless. Ms. Sunblossom was completely dazed and she pulled the mare to the hidden wooden panel without a struggle, the first aid kit scratching across the ground along with them. Pinkamena followed as if she had a choice as her double flipped up the floorboard and plunged into the darkness with her caretaker flopping limply along into the abyss. The panel thumped shut above them and with their first few steps down the stairs Pinkamena could hear the frantic hooves of several ponies all patter to a halt above them, arriving to nothing but an empty room. They were too late.