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

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.