3:14 PM

Chapters

We Have a Considerable Lack of Kittens
Probably Rotting in a Bargain Bin Somewhere
Ponyville Proper's Peculiarly Polychromatic Pegasus ... and Pinkie Pie
Cry Me a River, Fetch Me a Straw
Progress? What Progress?
Ponies Shouldn't Tempt Fate
Girl, You Don't Know the Half of It
It's an Even Split between Spooky and Stupid
It Says Never-Ending for a Reason
Leave Your Oxymorons at the Door
Keep Dreaming, Shaggy Mare
You Already Have an Alligator
Enjoy
Do What?
Who Wouldn't Want to Kill You, Pinkie?
Just Choose Not to Choose
Loop Zero
That's What You Think
Worst Twist Ever

We Have a Considerable Lack of Kittens

Pinkie had heard stories of Everfree. It was an overgrown place, they’d said, full of danger at every turn. But those stories hadn’t quite captured the scope of the place. Trees with broad, reaching boughs formed a vast canopy that only occasionally let in the moonlight. While there was plenty of room for walking, though, there was a definite sense of being closed in by the gnarled tree trunks and undergrowth. There was no telling what lay within every shadow.

“If I remember right, the castle shouldn’t be too far away as the pegasus flies,” Twilight was saying. From above, the faint glow of night washed over and past them as they walked. “There’s just the matter of getting through the bushes … past the rivers … over the hills … away from the animals …”

“Don’t think about that too much,” Pinkie advised, thinking of her own corpse being carried away in the jaws of wolves. “Or, well, do think about it, but we should probably also think of something happier.”

“Like what?” Twilight snorted as she brushed a low-hanging branch aside.

“Tell me about Canterlot! What’s it like living with Princess Celestia?”

“Well … she’s perfect. That about sums it up.” The small smile on Twilight’s face was short-lived. “But that’s not important right now. Maybe you should tell me about how you know everything.”

“I’m not entirely sure.” The night seemed cold, despite the lingering summer radiance. “It’s the third time now that I’ve gone through today. I died twice, and after those I suddenly found myself in the kitchen again, at 3:14 each time.”

“Hmm.” Twilight said nothing.

A break in the foliage drew their attention. Before them, the ground ended abruptly in a jagged cliff, which overlooked the rest of the forest below. In the distance sat a crumbling ruin, a rugged landmark in the midst of the brooding trees.

“3:14 both times?” Twilight said idly, gauging the distance to the castle. “And in the same place? Then you’re obviously going back to that place and time over and over.” She blinked. “Assuming you’re telling the truth, of course.”

“Over and over,” Pinkie repeated, pawing at the ground. “Something to do with … time?”

“You’re sure you’re not actually hallucinating?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t hallucinate you shouting like crazy when I got crushed to death by books.”

“I …” Twilight’s eyes crossed. “What?”

“So things are resetting to this afternoon.” Pinkie wrinkled her nose. “And it seems safe to say that’s triggered whenever I die. So I just have to make sure I don’t die, and everything will be fine.”

Twilight shook her head. “Yes, everything ... except for that.”

Pinkie followed Twilight’s pointing hoof, taking in the sight of the Mare in the Moon. “Well, yeah, that is a problem. But we’ll figure this out, right? I bet we need to have Nightmare Moon defeated before I can get out of this!”

“Right.” Twilight sighed. “Well, enough lollygagging. We have to get down there somehow.”

They considered their situation. The cliff was steep enough that the idea of climbing down its face was laughable. Pinkie couldn’t tell how high the drop was, exactly, but she had a hunch that she wouldn’t bounce back from that kind of jump.

“There might be a way around,” Twilight suggested, walking along the edge with eyes peeled. “Like … yes! Here, it slopes down a little. Come on!”

“Right behind you!”

Pinkie started to bounce after Twilight … and then paused, wondering what she was doing. She examined her hooves, but they didn’t seem suspicious. So she shrugged and continued on, making her careful way down the cliffside in the light of the unblinking moon.

Sometimes, though, careful doesn’t cover everything. A wayward frog squished under her hoof, sending her slipping over the side of the cliff and down, down to the rocky mountain base below.

∞

“Frogs.” Pinkie rubbed her nose. “Gotta watch out for frogs.”

Pinkie made her careful way down the cliffside in the light of the unblinking moon. A lazy frog gazed up at her from the rocky path, and she couldn't resist sticking out her tongue as she passed. Small victory, but she'd take what she could get.

Once they had reached the bottom, they continued on their way. Twilight seemed strangely quiet, so Pinkie perked her ears and listened, wondering if something awaited them in the gloom beneath the trees.

They had just caught sight of a narrow place, bordered by twin cliffs, when a sudden harsh growling sound made them jump. Pinkie darted for cover behind a bush, and she watched in disbelief as Twilight took a few steps forward, searching for whatever could be making a noise like rocks rattling together.

Twilight’s eyes focused on something in the shadow of the cliffs. “It’s a pretty big lion,” she whispered. “With a scorpion’s tail … a manticore? But it’s sleeping pretty soundly.”

“Maybe we should go around.”

“The quickest way to the castle is past it. We don’t have time for detours.”

Pinkie stared. “Are you saying we should go right past it?”

“I think I can teleport us past it. It’ll take a lot of energy, but as long as we keep quiet we should be fine.”

Pinkie weighed the relative merits of risking an attack of a hungry manticore and risking the slow death of everything on the planet. It seemed a good idea to choose the path of the least suffering for everypony. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good. Stand next to me.”

With some hesitance, she did so. Now she could see a better view of the creature, from its hulking golden body to its thin dark wings. Being exposed like this, though, did not seem like a sufficient trade-off for this sight.

“Distance is acceptable,” Twilight mumbled to herself. “If I calculate the flow of the leylines like so … yeah, that should do it.” Magic sparked to life around her horn, and her eyes narrowed in concentration. “You might want to hold on.”

Pinkie held onto the unicorn’s leg, wondering how tightly she needed to grip it. She wasn’t sure how this was going to work, but if Twilight was Princess Celestia’s student, she could probably be counted on to not mess it up.

As Twilight’s horn grew brighter, a breeze whistled past, tickling the hairs of their coats as it brushed them from behind … and carried their scents forward, wafting the smell of ponies toward the slumbering manticore. The beast sniffed deeply, sneezed, and snorted as it began to stir.

There was a flash of magic — for a moment everything was an incomprehensible swirl of colors, pulsating in a mess of abnormal normality, and then—

They stood in the forest, hooves on solid ground. Pinkie wobbled in place, struggling to keep her balance after the sudden shift. Beside her, she heard Twilight groan faintly, but she too stayed upright.

“Did it work?” Pinkie looked back, and she smiled at the sight of the cliffs standing several yards away. The manticore still stood between them, looking back at the place they had just vacated as only a slumbering monster could ...

Wait a minute.

“Pinkie?” Twilight’s whisper was harsh. “We need to move.”

“Right.” Not taking her eyes off the manticore, she took a few cautious steps, wary even as her hooves carried her farther away from it—

A crunch. Pinkie froze.

The manticore swiveled around, nostrils flaring. It crouched into a coiled position, tail twitching and lip curling, before springing at the hapless ponies with speed unbecoming of its size.

Twilight barely managed to put up a shield in time. There was a ringing clink of claws against magic, and the manticore snarled as it fluttered its wings to steady itself. A massive paw lifted, blotting out the watching moon, and came down with enough force to make the earth beneath them rumble.

In a burst of noise like glass, the shield shattered. Twilight screamed, seizing her head in her hooves at the backlash. But all Pinkie could think of was the lunging maw that swallowed up her vision, and the dripping teeth that crunched into her skull.

∞

“Oh my! You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

“Can’t talk, Mrs. Cake.” Pinkie’s voice was faint and hoarse, but the tautness of her throat betrayed the scream that was trying to escape. “It’s progress, and that’s all that matters … I’m not gonna think about it, no sir. Gotta find Twilight …”

Pinkie was careful this time. She kept her eyes trained on the dark forest floor as they sneaked away from the manticore, nimbly putting each hoof in a twig-free spot with each step. Twilight employed far less caution, but she moved just as silently. Once they had put significant distance behind them, Pinkie wondered how that was fair, but the question wasn’t quite enough to drown out her sense of relief.

They continued along through a grove even more shadowy than the rest of the forest, so dark that no moonlight could filter through the canopy. Twilight’s magic lit the way, but something about the grove still made Pinkie’s skin crawl. She thought she could feel eyes watching her, eyes that burned her like fire; when she looked around, however, she could see nothing but blackness. When they emerged out into ordinary night once more, she let out a sigh of relief.

To both ponies’ surprise, the next part of the trek passed without incident. The river before them appeared deep, but thanks to Twilight’s scanning spell, it was easily crossed at a certain bend. After that, no beasts leapt out at them, and no traps of nature had been laid before them. Even the noises of the forest seemed subdued, as if it was holding its breath.

After a few minutes, they found themselves staring across a gorge, peering through the fog at the castle crouching in a mangle of stone and glass. Despite the wildness of the forest, the general area around the ruin was clear, with only the occasional tree growing nearby to show the efforts in overtaking the place.

“Maybe we should have brought Butterfly,” Twilight said eventually. “She could carry us over without much of a problem.”

“We’ll just have to find a way without her.” Pinkie glanced over the edge, wondering if they could climb down along this cliff as well. “Hey … what’s that?”

She made her way along the edge, and Twilight followed uncertainly. Soon they came upon a pair of aging posts, around which were tied thick ropes connected to fragile-looking planks. The bridge seemed to have collapsed some time previously, as it lay against the side of the gorge as far as the fog would let them see.

“I think I can fix this,” Twilight said, uncertain. Her horn lit up, and through the fog a faint light responded in kind. Pinkie watched as the distant light pulled the far ropes upward, tying them around the posts on the other side. There was a rustle as Twilight made certain that the knots were tight, and then she was done.

“Nice job!” Pinkie patted her huffing friend on the withers.

“It’s a little farther away than I thought,” Twilight admitted, swallowing in between deep breaths. She looked to the sky, where four stars seemed a little closer to the moon than they were supposed to be. “We’d better move.”

Pinkie nodded, taking a step onto the bridge … and then she scampered back, eyeing it with suspicion. “Maybe you should go first.”

“Really? Do you really think I wouldn’t make sure this was safe?”

“It’s not that. I just don’t trust it to not suddenly give out if I’m the first one on it. That wouldn’t be quite as embarrassing as the bookshelf, but it’d be close.”

Twilight grunted in annoyance. “The more you talk about this ‘time loop’ idea, the less I believe it’s true. And I didn’t think that was possible.”

Pinkie shook her head. “Please go ahead of me? If you did a good job with the bridge, it shouldn’t be a problem if you do.”

“Mhm.” Twilight half frowned, but she didn’t argue. “Fine. If you think it’ll do any good …”

The bridge didn’t collapse, though it shook a little under Pinkie’s weight in the brief second when Twilight had stepped back onto solid ground. The unicorn rolled her eyes and continued on toward the castle; Pinkie followed behind after a quick look back it, as if it would crumble beneath her glance alone.

The castle lay sprawling before them, its doors hanging open expectantly. Whatever trappings had decorated this place in the past, they had rotted away long ago. Though they crossed through several cold, silent rooms, the stone around them was only disrupted by windows lined with jagged glass.

Pinkie was careful to watch her step — who knew what a carelessly placed hoof could trigger? — so when they entered yet another room, Twilight’s wordless exclamation was her first indication that this one was different.

In the center of the room stood a stone statue, a pedestal from which five branches sprouted that ended in additional pedestals. Each of these bore a stone sphere with a unique shape embedded in its surface. The center was a much larger sphere, big enough to crush a pony.

“Is that all six of them?” Pinkie asked.

“I don’t think so. The book said the sixth would appear when the other five are present, but I doubt it’d be as easy as just finding them all together at the start.” Twilight levitated the smaller spheres to the floor, one at a time, and looked at them expectantly. “For metaphysical embodiments, they’re a little … underwhelming.”

“How would you use these?” The spheres were heavy, Pinkie realized as she picked one up. “They don’t look much like rainbow lasers.”

“Predictions and Prophecies made them look like jewels. Maybe something needs to happen to trigger their transformation into that form.”

“Interesting.” She examined the sphere from a variety of angles. “Did it say what kinds they were, specifically? Because if they’re Elements of Harmony, then the microscopic structure would have to be in the form of a particular lattice. At least, that’s if they’re crystals. So probably they need something harmonic to happen in order for them to align correctly and therefore function.”

“That … sounds right.” Twilight squinted. “How do you figure that?”

“My sister’s a rock enthusiast. I think you two would get along great!”

Twilight lifted a sphere and gazed at it, as if she could will it to transform. “I’ll take your word for it. So if they need something harmonic … would that have to do with the virtues they’re associated with, or with the sixth element? Or both?”

“That’s the question, all right.” The gears began to turn in Pinkie’s head. “I wonder if …”

A flash from outside drew their attention. They clambered to the window, through which they could see the expanse of Everfree laid out before them. Trees, hills, gorges, rivers, and lakes, all lay beneath a broad expanse of sky. All was calm, Pinkie noted. All was bright.

“Oh no.” Twilight’s ears were pinned back as she stared upward. “It’s happening.”

Pinkie followed her gaze. What she saw made her heart sink.

The Mare in the Moon was missing.

“It’s so empty,” Twilight breathed, as if the moon had suddenly become fragile. “She’s really … This is bad news. This is really, really bad news.”

“We have the Elements,” Pinkie said, speaking mostly for her own benefit. “We’ve got that going for us. Now we just need to figure out how to use them before we all die.”

“Don’t say that!”

“But it’s true! I mean, isn’t honesty one of the Elements?”

“You can’t just go and …” Twilight blinked. She looked back at the motionless Elements, then at Pinkie. “That’s right,” she mused. “Good point. I wonder … Maybe the virtues involved in harmony have a bigger role to play than I thought? Honesty might really be part of the issue.”

Pinkie pulled her mouth to the side in confusion. “But I was just kidding. It was more for motivation than anything.”

“No, it makes sense,” Twilight assured her, beginning to pace between the window and the Elements. “Could a pony who lives by one of those virtues most effectively wield the corresponding Element? That would make sense. Having five ponies involved for each Element would definitely make it easier to wield them, since it would divide the load between them while also fostering cooperation. And cooperation seems like it’d be important in doing that.”

“But what about the sixth Element?”

“Oh, that’s right. Six ponies, then, unless it works on its own. So what we need is to find four more ponies, and we can—”

Whatever Twilight was going to say was smothered beneath a rush of wind howling among the trees. The two ponies struggled to keep their balance as the air nearly knocked them over; their hooves gripped the stone floor in attempt to be as steady as possible. The light of the moon and stars faded gradually, so that Pinkie only realized it when she could no longer see the Elements just feet away.

“Twilight?” Pinkie called over the din. “I …”

Eyes loomed out of the dark. She shouted in alarm at the thin-slitted pupils within those ice-cold irises, seemingly floating on their own in the midst of the growing darkness. Beneath them, teeth bared in a sharp grin.

“My little ponies.” The creature’s voice slipped into their ears and wormed into their minds like honey and oil, though beneath them lay an edge of malice. “You seem quite lost. As your rightful ruler, I would be happy to help you escape this place.”

“Nightmare Moon,” Twilight whispered, sounding small and feeble.

The eyes regarded her. “Somepony who remembers me. It is well that my sister did not completely obliterate all mention of my glory.”

Pinkie couldn’t move. The Mare in the Moon radiated coldness, and with it came the memory of the dwindling silence. Pinkie tried to say something, to defy the creature from the stars, but it only came out as a whimper.

“You wish to defy me even before I arrive? How clever of you.” Feathers rustled in the dark. “But not clever enough. I will take these.”

A horn lit with deep purple magic, and the Elements were illuminated just long enough for Pinkie to see them vanish.

“And, because I am merciful,” Nightmare Moon added with a smirk, “I will take you.”

There was an almighty crack, followed by another, and then silence reigned.

∞

Muffins. Warmth. 3:14 PM.

Pinkie stood perfectly still. She basked in the heat of the open oven, taking comfort in the light. After a moment she closed the oven and took a deep, deep breath, chasing away thoughts of the monster she had just seen and the death she had just endured. The thoughts flocked back like vultures, but she let them wash over her without introspection. There were more important things to think about.

“Six ponies,” she said. “Six ponies for six Elements. I need to find them.”

“Need to find who, dear?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Cake. They could be anypony.”

“... Can I help with anything?”

Pinkie thought about this. “Maybe. I’ll talk to you about it if I can’t find anypony else. There’s got to be a connection.” She gazed out the window, where happy ponies frolicked. “Where can I find Twilight at this hour?”

Probably Rotting in a Bargain Bin Somewhere

The streets of Ponyville bustled with activity as its residents went about their business. Among them trotted a wild-maned pink pony with far grimmer business than her pace would suggest. Her eyes flitted about as she trotted up and down the streets, searching for the newcomers from Canterlot.

“They should be here soon,” she said to herself, nodding as a mint-green unicorn passed going the other way. The unicorn gave her a strange look, but nevertheless continued on her way. “Unless they’ve already got here, in which case they could be anywhere! I mean, I guess I saw them go into Town Hall that one time, but I wasn’t really thinking straight, so when that is exactly, who can say?”

She glanced at the clock tower. It was close to a quarter past four, so she had been wandering about for nearly an hour. Maybe she needed to wait outside Town Hall until they came by?

“Look out!”

The sound of wings made her swivel around, and her eyes widened at the sight of the swiftly incoming chariot and its purple occupants. The pegasus guards beat their forehooves against the air in an effort to slow, but within half a second they were above her, their kicks narrowly missing her head.

With the chariot itself, however, she was not so fortunate.

∞

Pinkie rubbed her neck, wincing. “Right,” she mumbled. “Try to avoid that if I can help it. But they were in that chariot, weren’t they? Twilight and Spike. It’s a good thing their memories reset each time, or else they’d really be disturbed by now.”

“Who would be disturbed, Pinkie?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Cake! I just have a little business to take care of.”

“If you say so, dear.”

Pinkie managed not to get beheaded this time, and the chariot touched down without incident. As the guards deposited their charges and flew away, she marched over to meet them, eyes fixed on them in such a way to show that she was on a mission.

“A mission, huh?” Twilight looked skeptical once Pinkie had filled her in. “You mean to tell me that you’ve died several times trying to get back at Nightmare Moon?”

“Yes. Which is good, in a way, since otherwise everything would be doomed for all eternity.” Pinkie frowned. “Although I guess the trade-off is that Equestria can be doomed multiple times instead … that’s unfortunate.”

“More like amazing!” Spike gushed. His eyes were alight with fantasy. “Anything with time travel is seriously cool. It’s like in the latest issue of Power Ponies, where Radiance loses control of her powers while fighting the Clockwork King, and ends up reliving the same week for a really long time.” He grinned. “Heh … Radiance.”

“This isn’t a comic book, Spike,” Twilight said with a huff. “This is clearly just a very confused pony who needs to go back to bed.”

Pinkie sighed. “Twilight, you can’t afford not to believe me. Nightmare Moon is coming, I know where the Elements of Harmony are, and we need ponies who embody their virtues. What we need to do is find those ponies and deal with the problem while we can.”

“C’mon, Twilight.” Spike nudged the scowling unicorn. “Didn’t you want somepony to believe you?”

Twilight blinked. Her eyes flicked sunward, then refocused on Pinkie. “Fine. I’m not saying I believe you completely, but I’m going to take what I can get.”

“That’s great!” Pinkie clapped her hooves together. “Where should we look first?”

“Well, I told you I need to check on preparations before the celebration. But maybe we can run into suitable ponies along the way.”

They strolled along to Sweet Apple Acres, which Pinkie could only remember going to a couple of times before. Those were simple outings, as she and Mr. Cake would discuss deals with a big red stallion whose name she couldn’t remember. Their seasonal apple muffins would be delicious, she’d thought before, and that was all that mattered. The idea that the farm would be important in any other way had never crossed her mind.

Now, she considered the place as if visiting for the first time. As they crossed over hills and through dips in the road, vast apple orchards came into view, through which the occasional pony could be seen gathering the plump red fruits. A bright barn sat on a hill, overlooking the rest of the property in such a way that Pinkie was reminded of a watchful matriarch.

When they had passed through the gate, an orange figure galloped past them toward an apple tree nearby. The earth pony swiveled around on her forehooves and bucked hard enough to shake the fruit from their branches; the apples fell neatly into baskets around the roots of the tree, defying everything Pinkie knew about earth ponies and magic.

“Well, howdy-doo, strangers!” The orange pony came forward and extended her hoof, beaming despite the sweat matting her coat.

Twilight shook. She shook in more than one way, for she was bounced around from the force of the pony’s enthusiastic hoof. “Uh, hi,” she said, once she managed to get her balance back. “You must be Applejack. I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this is my assistant, Spike.”

“Well, darn pleased to meet you, Twilight and Spike.” Applejack considered her other visitor. “Say, I’ve seen you around town. Pinkie Pie, right?”

“That’s me!”

“You lookin’ for my brother? I dunno whether it’s apple muffin time yet, but I’m not exactly the expert on those.”

Pinkie shook her head. “I just wanted to drop by and see how the farm was doing.” Not a total lie.

Applejack’s mouth set in a hard thin line as she processed this. Something flickered in her bright green eyes — something that was ever so slightly less friendly. Then she shook herself, and her teeth glinted in the sun as her smile returned in full force. “Mighty nice of you, Pinkie. Y’all wanna come around the back and see the food? I bet it beats your expectations, no contest.”

The food that had been laid out was certainly a spectacle. Apple fritters, apple dumplings, apple pies, and other apple confections were heaped on the table, somehow stacked in such a way that not one was in danger of falling despite their precarious position. The chime of a triangle brought a veritable herd of earth ponies trotting over, and Applejack listed off names that by and large matched the tasty-looking treats.

“Well, this looks really nice …” Twilight started to say, smiling weakly.

“It looks fantastic!” Pinkie cut in. She glanced from pony to pony, wondering if she might not be able to find their element holders all in one fell swoop. “You all must’ve worked really hard on this.”

“Aw, shucks,” Applejack said, smiling despite waving a hoof. “Kitchen was a little crowded, but t’weren’t nothin’ a heap of teamwork couldn’t fix.”

The big red stallion scuffed at the ground, blushing. Big Macintosh, wasn’t it? Pinkie wondered how she’d managed to forget a name like that. He certainly looked the part, making his sister look absurdly small in comparison.

“D’you wanna try some of this, Pinkie?” A yellow filly leaned toward her, balancing an apple fritter on her bow-brightened mane. “I made it myself! Well, my cousins helped, but it was really me who did the work!”

Pinkie took a bite. “Itsh delicioush.”

“She likes it!” The filly bounced higher than should have been equinely possible. “I told y’all it’d work out fine!”

Applejack chuckled. “Well, Apple Bloom, I guess everythin’s good, then. Disregardin’ the two dozen eggs it took to bring us this one fritter, of course.”

“Darn tootin’!”

Pinkie giggled at Apple Bloom’s antics. A part of her wanted to join in, glad that something was going well in this time turnover. Still, she stood her ground against the urge, instead drawing the line at smiling politely and swallowing the rest of the fritter whole. It was nice to be the sane one around here, she knew.

“Well, I’m glad everything’s in order,” Twilight said, giving Pinkie a strange look for some reason. “But we do have to move along; there’s more that needs to be done.”

“Aw.” Apple Bloom’s eyes grew huge. “But we were just about to snack on the extras.”

Twilight bit her lip. “I really should be off supervising …”

“You go ahead, Twilight.” Pinkie patted Apple Bloom’s head. “I’ll stay and help with the food. If that’s okay, I mean.”

“Why, sure it is! You can be part of the family for the afternoon.” Applejack waved at her relatives. “Dig in, everypony!”

The earth ponies happily obliged. Twilight took her leave, though a little pleading on Spike’s part allowed him to join in the feast. “Getting ready for the celebration sounds like a lot of checking up on ponies,” he told Pinkie as they plucked a few treats for themselves. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being Twilight’s assistant. It just doesn’t seem like she needs me with this. And hey, who would I be if I turned down free food?”

“You’d be a very silly dragon.” Pinkie grinned as they found themselves a spot in the grass. “But you didn’t, so you’re not. You’re probably not missing much, anyway.”

A shadow fell across them. “Mind if I join you?” Without waiting, the unfamiliar pony took a seat next to them, followed shortly by Applejack. “You said your name was Pinkie Pie, right?”

“That’s me.”

The pony smiled. She had a coat the color of toffee, and her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “I think I’ve seen you in town before? You’re the bakers’ daughter?”

“Nah, she’s their apprentice or somethin’,” Applejack corrected, taking a bite from her slice of apple pie. “Big Mac tells me they don’t know what they’d do without you.”

Pinkie laughed. “I really just help around the bakery. Life never gets crazier than that.”

“Would you like to know my name?” the strange pony asked.

“Uh, sure.”

The pony smiled. She said nothing.

“This here’s my cousin, Apple Cobbler. You can call her Cobbler, though,” Applejack filled in. She ruffled Cobbler’s mane affectionately, and Cobbler leaned into her touch with a smile. “You’ll have to excuse her; she ain’t the kind to stop askin’ questions.”

“Wow.” Spike leaned in, eyes bright with curiosity. “That’s just like somepony in a book I read. The Inquisitor, I think her name was? She was terrifying.”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh, she’s brutal. She managed to break the Guardian just by asking questions. I mean, that’s pretty much all she could do, but then her ice minions came in and grabbed him when he was crying on the floor and everything. She’s pretty terrible.”

Cobbler’s eyes hardened, though she didn’t stop smiling. “Who’s she?”

“I told you, she’s—”

“Spike, what other books have you read?” Pinkie cut in. “You live with Twilight, so you must have been to libraries a lot. She seems like a studious type.”

“Pfft, we practically live in a library! Oh man, this one time, after magic camp …”

As Spike dived into his story, Pinkie gave Cobbler a sideways look. The latter had relaxed slightly, though the tension didn’t quite leave her shoulders. Applejack caught Pinkie’s eye, and something like understanding passed between them, though what Pinkie understood, she couldn’t say.

The ponies and dragon continued to discuss what they liked, though Applejack often had to fill in for Cobbler when a question couldn’t serve as an answer. As the hours wore on, Pinkie learned that Spike had been hatched by Twilight when she was just a filly; she learned that Applejack was devoted to her work at Sweet Apple Acres; she learned that Cobbler liked to vacation in the Mild West when she could afford it. All the while, ponies around them traded stories around them.

Is this what it’s like to actually stop and talk to ponies? Pinkie wondered. She watched Spike and Cobbler laugh about some embarrassing story or other, their previous animosity forgotten. I always thought it was a nice distraction at best … but here we are, talking like old friends. Maybe one of the ponies here really does embody a virtue. Why not get to know them?

In the distance, Apple Bloom laughed as a soaked collie chased her across the sunset.

There’s no reason not to. And I have all the time in the world.

∞

“Well, my name is Apple Fritter, and I—”

∞

“—lived on this farm since I was a filly, back when the princess—”

∞

“—Celestia knows we could do with a bit of rain on Thursdays, especially once the squirrels and—”

∞

“—badgers me whenever I go to milk the cows, but that’s in Hoofington, where on cloudy days the sun don’t—”

∞

“—‘shine on, you crazy diamond!’ And since that’s my birthstone, I told him that he was a real wise—”

∞

“—guy needs to lighten up, especially since oranges can be a—”

∞

“—treat when you live in the city, although sometimes those performers can be a bit over the—”

∞

“—top of the line machine, we should really make a killing, eh, brother of—”

∞

“—mine was a bad idea, even if the coal itself was useful in times of—”

∞

“—trouble sometimes, but Applejack is really understandin' about the pigs—”

∞

Pinkie’s head was full of apples. She was glad she’d managed to talk to everypony at Sweet Apple Acres; much as she loved the the company and the treats, all of this was a lot to remember. She couldn’t remember when she had last slept.

“No time for sleeping,” she told herself, waiting outside Sweet Apple Acres. If she was right, Twilight and Spike wouldn’t be staying there for long, even with the promise of an apple-based feast to keep them busy. “Twilight and I still need to find the right ponies. The Apple Family is full of possible ponies, and they’re all really generous … or is that loyal?”

While she mused on the situation, she was entirely unaware of what was happening far above. A sky-blue pegasus swooped in and out of clouds, wearing a cocky smirk as she dived and weaved at impossible angles. A flash of pink alerted her to Pinkie’s presence on the ground, however, and the pegasus skidded to a stop in midair.

“Who is that?” Her muzzle scrunched in thought. “She looks familiar …”

She raised a hoof, as if to try to catch Pinkie’s attention, but no words came. With a shrug, the pegasus flared her wings and spun in another broad loop, then darted off for Ponyville proper.

Ponyville Proper's Peculiarly Polychromatic Pegasus ... and Pinkie Pie

“So let me get this straight.” Twilight’s voice had taken on a strained quality thanks to her bulging stomach — at least, that’s what Pinkie was telling herself. “You’re looping through time and trying to stop Nightmare Moon from returning—”

“I don’t think that’s actually possible,” said Pinkie. “You told me once that there would be no stopping the stars from moving into position.”

“But I’ve never seen you before.”

“It was in another loop. I was talking to Apple Cinnamon in that one — he caters for the astronomy department in Las Pegasus — and he made me so curious about the astronomical part of all this that we spent the night looking for more information about the stars. Apparently you were able to actually read the book we found, because that’s what you told me. Whatever they are, you can’t stop the stars.”

“Mhm.” Twilight stared forward, ears neutral.

“But Twilight,” Spike cut in, “this is great! You don’t have to try to convince her about Nightmare Moon!”

“You should listen to him,” said Pinkie. “He’s smart for his age.”

Twilight grumbled.

“Where are we going next?” There was a little spring in her step, Pinkie realized, and she forced herself to calm down. “Checking up on the next preparation for the celebration on the list, I mean.”

“Spike and I are looking for the weather manager now. We need to check on how the weather is doing.”

“Well, that’s easy!” Pinkie swept a hoof at the sky. “Just look at the clouds up there.”

Twilight looked. “The clouds aren’t cleared. Well, we just need to find her and let her know she needs to step it up.”

Something slammed into Pinkie. Her breath warped into a desperate bid for air at the impact, with bones and organs collapsing at the force of the blow. Too stunned to think, too broken to care, she could only dimly hear the panicked shouts of the blue thing above her, grasping her head in hooves she couldn’t feel. In time, even that faded.

∞

“Well, that’s easy!” Pinkie swept a hoof at the sky. “Just look at the clouds up there.”

Twilight looked. “The clouds aren’t cleared. Well, we just need to find her and let her know she needs to step it up.”

Pinkie leapt to the side. Twilight’s grunt of confusion turned to a cry of surprise as the blue blur barreled into her, sending her toppling to the mud. She lay there, unharmed but growling a little at this turn of events, while the blue pegasus chuckled awkwardly.

“That really isn’t fair,” Pinkie mumbled. She looked up, as if some cosmic interloper could hear her complaint, but only clouds and sky met her gaze.

The pegasus’s grin was lopsided, carefree. “Whoops. Sorry about that. I wasn’t looking where I was flying.”

“That had better be true,” said Twilight. She picked herself up, sending the pegasus sprawling at her hooves. With her horn glowing, she quickly removed the mud that threatened to stain her coat, sending it spattering around her without ceremony.

The pegasus leapt to her hooves with a flutter of wings, shaking herself clean. “Hey, I said I’m sorry.” She puffed her chest out, making her look quite the opposite of sorry. “The name’s Rainbow Dash, and I’m the fastest pegasus in Equestria. You could probably tell from the way I crashed into you. I don’t think I’ve seen you guys in town before.”

“That’s because we’re new!” Spike grinned. “This is Twilight Sparkle, and I’m Spike. We’re looking at how preparations are going for the Summer Sun Celebration.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ve come to the right place. I was just about to get these clouds taken care of.”

Twilight eyed her. “By ‘just about to,’ you mean ‘sometime today,’ don’t you.”

“Pretty much.”

Pinkie watched Rainbow Dash as Dash went back and forth with Twilight. Despite Pinkie’s scrutiny, Dash kept her eyes trained on Twilight, with the occasional glance at Spike thrown in. On a whim, Pinkie waved at Dash, hooves flailing in the air. Dash eyes didn’t so much as flit toward her.

“Oh yeah?” Dash was saying. She puffed her chest out even further. “I can get this sky cleared in ten seconds flat.”

Twilight smirked. “Prove it.”

Dash’s eyes narrowed. Her wings flared, and then there was a blast of air marking the spot where she had stood milliseconds ago. Above them, a streak of blue zipped from cloud to cloud, leaving only clear sky in her wake. A continuous whooshing sound followed her, leaving an almost visible trail in the air.

Before anypony could say something stupid like “Wow, she’s fast,” Dash had touched down again, wings rustling back into a resting position.

“What’d I tell ya?” She grinned. “Ten seconds flat.”

“Actually, that was nine seconds.” Pinkie wore a grin of her own. “I counted.”

“Really?” The pegasus’s eyes, lighting up, settled on Pinkie for the first time. It was only for a moment, as she quickly averted her gaze again, but it was there. “I mean, of course I did. It’s very Dashian for me to break my own record like it’s nothing.”

“‘Dashian’?” Spike stared. “You have your own adjective?”

“Is that what that is? I just needed something to describe me.”

“That’s what an adjective does.” Twilight had shaken off her surprise. “So you needed a word to describe yourself … and you decided to describe yourself using yourself as a descriptor.”

“Sheesh, you don’t have to make it sound so complicated.”

Twilight snorted. “Well, thanks for clearing the clouds. Even though that was your job … Come on, Spike. We have to go look at decorations.”

“Okay.” Spike grinned back as the two of them set off. “See you, Rainbow Dash! That was really cool of you.”

“Yeah, it was.” Dash polished a hoof on her chest. “He’s all right, that kid. He knows radicalness when he sees it.”

“Where are you off to now?” Pinkie asked, eyes bright. “Maybe I could tag along and give you something to do.”

“Yeah … about that.” A rainbow mane flipped across Dash’s face as she gave Pinkie a sideways look. “I’m mostly gonna be hanging out with other pegasi at my house.”

Pinkie frowned. “What’s wrong with non-pegasi?”

“Oh, nothing!” Dash lifted her hooves, fending off the accusation. “Don’t get me wrong here. It’s just that I live in a cloud house, and it’s hard for earth ponies to get in places like that.”

“That makes sense,” Pinkie said, conceding the point. She rubbed her chin, wondering how to get on the pegasus’s good side. “Still, I’ve never talked to somepony as cool as you.”

“You’ve been missing out.” The corner of Dash’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “You’ve lived here in Ponyville, right? I swear I’ve seen you before.” She had stopped looking at Pinkie, instead inspecting a wing.

“I have. I’m Pinkie Pie, and I work at Sugarcube Corner with the Cakes. You must have dropped by at some point.”

“Sugarcube Corner, huh? Good to know.” Dash tensed a little as she prepared to take off. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but I gotta fly now—”

“There you are, Dash!” A dark gray stallion swooped down from above, followed by a pair of lavender mares. They landed in unison, and the mares giggled at something unspoken. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are we still on for this evening?”

“You know it!”

The stallion paused as he noticed Pinkie. “Hey, I know you! Pinkie Pie, right?”

“Yes.” Pinkie considered her recently expanded list of ponies she knew. “And you’re … Boltpath?”

“Thunderlane. And these are my friends, Cloudchaser and Flitter.”

Pinkie and the sisters exchanged smiles.

“Hey!” Thunderlane’s eyes lit up. “You’re not doing anything, are you? We’re looking for ponies to come to our pre-Summer Sun party! It’ll be great!”

“Would that work?” Pinkie glanced at Dash, who glared dully at Thunderlane. “I heard it was in a cloud house.”

“We can have it under the cloud instead. It’s not that important that it’s inside. Unless your house is about to rain sometime … Is it, Dash?”

Dash exhaled sharply. “It should be fine.”

“Great! Let’s head over there!”

The ponies made their way through Ponyville. Dash’s forelegs were folded the entire way, something the other three pegasi seemed completely oblivious to. When Pinkie stared at her in curiosity, Dash’s tail flicked in impatience.

What’s her deal?

The cloud house was a loud creation, at least visually — the vivid rainbow waterfalls pouring here and there trickled quietly. Underneath was a large area covered in grass, though not as thickly as the surrounding earth. It was here that the ponies sat, shaded from the sun and feeling a little conspicuous without any others to keep them company.

“We have parties occasionally,” Thunderlane explained, noticing Pinkie’s consternation at their situation. “I’m usually in charge of them ... that’s probably why nopony’s here yet.”

“You don’t sound like you like to be in charge.”

“It’s gotta be done. Ponies need parties. We never noticed a lot of them happening in Ponyville, since it’s usually a pretty quiet place. Kind of a shame, I thought.” He shrugged. “If nopony else helps to bring ponies together, I might as well take a swing at it.”

Pinkie thought of balloons and streamers. She thought of confetti bursting from nowhere, scattering across a room full of cheering ponies. She thought of cake nearly breaking a table with its weight, and the little flutter in the stomach that came when a pony expresses thanks for such a good time. Then she thought of her room, decorated in its inoffensive pink, with only books and an alligator for company.

She looked at her flank. Her cutie mark met her gaze, asking a wordless question.

“Ugh!” Dash threw her hooves in the air. “Didn’t you give anypony a time, Thunderlane?”

“I just said ‘this evening.’” He frowned. “You’d think I’d have learned not to do that by now.”

“Don’t worry about it, guys.” Flitter pointed at something moving over the hills. “See? Here come a couple of them now.”

The huge white shape resolved into a figure recognizable as a pony, though the connection was a little tenuous. He was a stallion bulging with muscles, which stood in sharp contrast to his tiny, buzzing wings. On his back stood a thin foal, who displayed his buckteeth in a wide grin.

“Bulk Biceps!” Cloudchaser exclaimed. “Featherweight! You guys having a great pre-Summer Sun day?”

“YEAH!” the muscled pegasus bellowed, loud enough to send everypony’s manes fluttering. His companion simply nodded in agreement.

“And there’s Blossomforth!” Thunderlane waved at another approaching pony. His attention was quickly diverted by yet another. “And Ditzy Doo! I guess this is gonna work after all!”

Before long, a veritable flock of pegasi had arrived, all enjoying the growing shade as the sun made its way westward. The occasional earth pony and unicorn could be seen among the mass of wings, presumably having tagged along out of curiosity or boredom. Most of them were ponies Pinkie had seen at various points in Sugarcube Corner, though again she couldn’t quite place their names.

“Well,” she said to herself, “this is working out better than I could hope for.” She noticed Rainbow Dash, who was reluctantly smiling as she discussed something with another pegasus. “... Mostly. It should be fine though. What are the odds that Dash is one of the ponies I’m looking for?”

∞

Loops passed. Most of the deaths over this time occurred from choking on the food that had been brought, but despite the horrifying desperation that came from trying and failing to pull in one more breath, she kept coming back for more. Whoever made those cheese puffs was a genius.

Like the Apple Family, these ponies all had stories to tell. Cloud Kicker had apparently ventured into Everfree and back, though nopony would believe her. Merry May had broken up with one of the Wonderbolts some time ago, and now she was back to searching for a steady coltfriend or fillyfriend. Raindrops was on the Ponyville debate team, though she sometimes struggled with keeping her aggressiveness to just her words. With every anecdote, Pinkie found her perception of Ponyville grow a little wider, turn at a new angle, take on a new color, until the result was something new and wonderful.

It was a job well done, she decided, but it wasn’t quite done yet.

“Now there’s Scootaloo,” she said to herself, watching as the other ponies separated into their little, familiar groups. “Maybe she can tell me more about her family … Wait, I already asked her that. I guess that’s everypony, then.” She smiled. “That went faster than expected. Well, maybe I can still catch up with Twilight and Spike and see where they go next. Anything to get through this crazy looping thing.” She turned to leave—

“Augh! Watch it!”

—and collided face-first with Rainbow Dash, who reeled back farther than would have made sense. Pinkie, bolstered by earth pony magic, stood a little firmer; nevertheless, she also wobbled in place from the impact.

“Geez!” Dash rubbed her forehead, wincing. “Just attack me out of nowhere, why don’t you?”

“Sorry.” Pinkie considered what had just happened. “But weren’t you the one sneaking up on me? Have you just been hovering there?”

Dash looked to her wings, which kept her just off the ground. “... No.”

How many loops has she been just behind, watching? Pinkie’s skin crawled. “I have to go.”

“Hey, wait.” Dash paused, looking sheepish at her sudden reversal in attitude. “I mean, I didn’t mean to freak you out. You just looked suspicious, that’s all.”

Pinkie was beginning to understand what it felt like to be Twilight. “Why do I look suspicious?”

“I don’t know … I guess you look like you know something, maybe? It weirds me out.”

“Is that all?”

Dash said nothing.

“Okay. Sorry to bother you.” Pinkie started away. “I’d better find Twilight—”

She had a split second to register the fork, waving about carelessly as a pegasus approached some heated point in his conversation. Then, in a sharp upward motion, the fork tore through the softness under Pinkie’s chin, sweeping up to pin her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Overwhelmed by shock, she collapsed where she stood; the fork, smashing against the grass, was driven further into her skull.

“Horseapples!” Somehow Pinkie could hear Dash’s voice over the screams. “Say something! Wait, no, don’t. I’ll call an ambulance! Thunderlane, where …? What?”

Pinkie’s mouth had jerked upward at the corner. “Auh … she ishn’ hoo ba’ affer aw!”

Blood spattered Dash’s hooves, but she didn’t seem to care. In a flash, she was elsewhere, barking orders to the other pegasi and mobilizing them into action.

Then the pain ripped through her, and Pinkie, never one to disappoint, screamed. She screamed even as the blood drained down her throat, and she screamed as the world was drowned in red.

∞

“Oh my! You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

“You could put it that way, I guess.” Pinkie was poking at the area around her throat, searching for the ghost of agony that had brought her back to this point. “I met them, and Dash isn’t completely horrible, so it’s progress.” Her tongue waggled, enjoying its hitherto unappreciated ability to move.

“... Are you okay, Pinkie? You look a little pale.”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Cake. If anything, I feel a little hoarse!”

Pinkie giggled, guffawed, and dissolved into cackles, rolling on the floor until tears came to her eyes. She heaved with laughter, and when she eventually ran out of breath she still shook as her chest struggled to pull in air. Only when Mrs. Cake had cautiously made her way closer did she realize that Pinkie, now lying on her side, had begun to sob.

Cry Me a River, Fetch Me a Straw

“Can I just ask why your eyes are red?”

Pinkie wiped away a stray tear. “No.”

“Spike, don’t ask awkward questions.” Twilight smiled as they neared Town Hall. “Ah, decorations! This shouldn’t be much of a problem. What could be problematic about decorations?”

Pinkie cracked a smile, deciding not to mention how difficult a challenge streamers could pose when she was half-asleep. Then she wondered if it was possible to strangle herself with those streamers, and her smile flipped back into a little frown.

Last loop she had holed herself up in Sugarcube Corner, locking her door and hiding under the covers with only Gummy for company. She hadn’t seen him in a while, so his presence had been comforting as they spent the day just lying there. Then night fell, and when the cold arrived she found she didn’t have the strength or will to move; she could only listen to Nightmare Moon’s laughter from outside as frostbite spread from head to hoof.

And so, with a little shiver every now and then, she had decided to come out into the open air this time. There was an occasional sniffle as she remembered the taste of her own blood, and she found she was startled more easily by slight movements and noises, but she was managing to keep from falling apart completely.

If we’re going to die either way, we might as well figure this out.

But she couldn’t quite strike up enough confidence that this could be figured out. Ponies were so fragile, she realized. Even earth ponies, famed for their stamina and hardiness, could be laid low by the smallest of things. As her eyes roamed over the objects she was passing, thoughts about how they could kill her wormed into her brain. A unicorn’s levitation could hang her, given enough strength to lift her by the neck; a bush could hide thirsty thorns, eager to sink into her flesh; a banana could be shoved up her nose far enough for its stem to pierce her brain.

Well, maybe that last one was a stretch. Bananas weren’t exactly threatening, even for fruits.

Pinkie shook herself as they entered Town Hall. The decorations all seemed to be in order, just like when she’d brought the treats over the evening before the looping started. The skylights above allowed the sun to shine in, dancing over the banners and ribbons in ways that made their colors grow brighter still.

In the midst of it all, a unicorn browsed through what remained, casually discarding most of the ribbons as she searched for that perfect color. She hummed to herself throughout the inspection, occasionally pulling out a needle to thread the keepers into a particular pattern.

Pinkie tongued the roof of her mouth, imagining the taste of steel.

With officious pointedness, Twilight cleared her throat, making the other unicorn jump. “Excuse me. You must be Rarity. I can see the decorations for the celebration are going fine, but I’d like to be sure.”

The unicorn took a deep breath, regaining her composure in an instant. “Yes, that’s my name. Everything is going marvelously; I’m just finishing up here, and then everything should be just fine.”

“Everything’s already fine,” Spike said dreamily.

“Why, you’re too kind! You have to understand, though, that I’m doing my best, no more and no less.” Rarity ruffled his spines, provoking a dazed grin. “Who might you two be?”

Twilight introduced herself and Spike, casting an odd look at the dragon’s goofy expression.

“So good to meet you both! And …” Rarity looked to Pinkie. “You already live in Ponyville, I think?”

“Yes. I’m Pinkie Pie.”

“Ah, now I remember. You must be the mastermind behind those cupcakes my sister loves so much.” She tapped a needle to her chin, lips pursed in thought. “Neither of us have figured out how you managed to set so many colors in such a small space, so it must take quite a bit of talent to do so.”

Pinkie threw up. A soup of greenish-brown acid carried the remains of whatever she’d been eating before the loops, burning her mouth as it came up and splashing around on the floor when it came down. It seeped into the discarded pile of ribbons, and a tinge of green stained them with a wet shine.

Rarity shrieked, stiffening as her hooves were soaked. Twilight leapt out of the way, wide-eyed, while Spike pinched his nose.

The sick feeling in Pinkie’s stomach remained even after the heaving had reduced to an irregular drip. Her eyes grew heavy with shame. “Ugh … I’m sorry.” Her voice was ragged, and vomit mingled with drool in a puddle at her hooves. “I don’t feel very well.”

There was an unbearable moment of quiet. Dimly, she could hear Spike struggle to hide his gagging.

Then something rubbed her withers, loosening the tension in her muscles. Through tears, Pinkie gazed up into sapphire eyes and a tight smile.

“I, ah … can’t blame you for it.” Rarity’s voice couldn’t possibly have been more strained, as she did her best to not breathe in the fumes. “Even if it’s not ideal. Let’s … get you somewhere more suited for this sort of thing. That would be more comfortable, I think?”

Pinkie nodded weakly.

“Let me take you to my home.” Rarity lifted a soiled hoof and, after a long moment’s hesitation, brushed Pinkie’s soaked mane out of her face. The gesture was somewhat ruined by her grimace as she tried to shake off the filth. “I’ll help you clean up.”

As the two ponies limped their way out of Town Hall, tracking vomit, Twilight managed to concentrate just long enough to vanish the foul liquid. “Well, that was interesting, all right,” she huffed, taking deep breaths. “Is there a single pony in this town that isn’t insane?”

“Rarity’s not insane,” Spike managed to say, waving the air around his face. “Did you see what she's doing for Pinkie? She’s fantastic.”

“She didn’t finish these decorations.” Twilight shook her head and lifted the remaining clean ribbons. “Somepony has to do it … Do you think it really matters what colors they are? Princess Celestia would probably prefer green and pink ribbons, don’t you think?”

Spike bit his lip. He looked to the open doors.

The water was warm, seeping into her coat as she scrubbed out the matted filth. She pulled steam into her lungs, soothing her sore throat and further relieving her of the terrible taste.

“By all means, keep being thorough.” Rarity stood at the sink, washing her hooves for the twelfth time. “There’s no reason not to be as fresh as you can.”

“Thank you,” Pinkie said. “Again. Though I’m not sure you needed to hose me off before we came inside.”

“Oh, that was for sanitary reasons. And I wasn’t singling you out by doing so. Didn’t I also splash myself with all that cold water?”

“You did,” Pinkie admitted, and her head tilted to the side. “I guess it wasn’t so bad. It issummer.”

“That’s the spirit!”

When they were properly washed, Rarity wrapped Pinkie’s mane in a fluffy towel, and the two of them went downstairs to the kitchen. Pinkie could see no sign of the wet hoofprints they had tracked inside. She supposed Rarity had found time to mop them up while she had been shivering in the tub.

“I think we could both do with a nice, hot cup of tea.” Rarity rummaged in the pantry for tea bags. “What flavor do you prefer?”

“Any flavor. As long as I can add lots of sugar.”

“Dear, sugar is right out. It’s simply too sweet, and in the long run it does your health no favors. And with the short run, it’s even worse.” She smiled. “Honey would be a proper substitute, wouldn’t you agree?”

Pinkie did agree, and soon they were seated at the table, sipping from their steaming teacups. A breeze wafted in from the open window, cooling the air inside to a comfortable level. There was a whiff of smoke, which piqued her curiosity a little.

When the matter was brought up, Rarity waved a dismissive hoof. “That’s quite ordinary. It certainly has nothing to do with the rags I used to get rid of that filth earlier. Pay it no mind. Now, how are you feeling?”

Pinkie swallowed her mouthful of tea, letting its sweet smoothness soothe her throat. “I feel a lot better. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. You were in need, and what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t drop everything to help?”

“... We’re friends?”

“Why, certainly! There’s a sort of trust that forms when two ponies see one another at their low points. An understanding, if you will.”

Pinkie swirled her tea leaves around, suddenly finding them fascinating. “That makes sense.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to imply we’re going to blackmail each other. Far from it! We each know that the other is capable of rising above great troubles. That’s certainly something worthy of respect, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Rarity smiled and began to discuss her dreams of fashion and fame, clearly eager to relate them now that she had a friendly ear to confide in. Pinkie smiled and nodded, trying not to think of how futile it was to rise above death by forks.

The moon was high in the sky by the time the two ponies returned to Town Hall. Many others were also converging here, eager to see their princess grace Ponyville with her presence. Rarity was still talking about Canterlot, and Pinkie, though she tried to listen, couldn’t help but feel a creeping dread at the fact that she was about to encounter Nightmare Moon again.

When they stepped inside, though, all thoughts fled from their minds. They could only gape at the sight laid out before them: vivid ribbons of every color were strewn across rafters, hanging from the ceiling and touching every wall in a tentacle-like quest for an embrace. The ribbons were tied to each other, creating a vast web that encompassed nearly the full volume of the room. There was barely enough room to walk beneath the rampage of rainbow. The balcony on the far side of the room was hidden from view by the interweaving abomination.

“... The decorations,” Rarity whispered. A strand of her mane sprung out of place. “I forgot to finish the decorations.”

“It’s not so bad,” Pinkie lied. She had the strangest feeling that if she tried to relax, the web of colors would slip through her eyes and wreak havoc from within. “I’ve got to wonder, though. Who did this?”

As if on cue, Twilight trotted over, dusted in glitter and matted with glue. “It’s perfect!” she said, beaming. “Princess Celestia needs as much of a glamorous atmosphere as possible for something like the Summer Sun Celebration. She’s never had anything like it in other celebrations, so this is the perfect chance to let her know how much we appreciate her!”

When Rarity spoke, her words hissed. “What have you done?”

“I’ve made things perfect, of course! It was pretty challenging at first, but once I realized I didn’t have to get rid of all my ideas, it was simple!”

Pinkie eyed the terrible tangle. “It doesn’t look simple.”

“Exactly!” Twilight tried to clap her hooves, but they stuck together. She tumbled forward, snagging a ribbon on her horn as she fell. “Oof!”

The ribbon pulled at another ribbon, and that ribbon pulled two more. Pinkie and Rarity, unable to move, watched in fascination as eventually the entire web detached, hung in the air for a moment, and then floated down in an unstoppable inevitability.

“I should’ve thought of that,” Twilight admitted, eyes watering.

As the ribbons fell, they coiled around Pinkie’s neck and hooves in an oddly specific arrangement. Panic set in, and she flailed to free herself, but her only reward was becoming further entangled. Dimly, she heard Twilight and Rarity’s cries of annoyance, but they were muffled by the ribbons as they buried her in a tacky pile.

She still didn’t know what it was like to be strangled by streamers. If it was anything like being strangled by ribbons, though, she wasn’t keen on finding out.

∞

“Spike,” Pinkie said, “I want you to finish these decorations.”

Spike gave her an odd look in between gazes at the departing Rarity. “But that’s nothing like spending time with her.”

“It’ll be fine.” Pinkie nodded to Twilight. “We’ll handle it.”

She rocked a little on her hooves. “Well … okay,” she managed to say. “I don’t know if I completely trust Spike’s sense of aesthetics, but he hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”

Pinkie watched her go. “It’s not his sense of aesthetics that’s untrustworthy.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Go talk about magic or something!” She looked to Spike, eyes pleading. “You know, I bet Rarity’ll be really impressed if you can get this done.”

With a sigh, he gathered the scattered ribbons. “Okay. I’ll deal with this frilly stuff … for her.”

Pinkie hid her relief, but it was a close thing. She patted Spike’s spines in thanks, then trotted outside, relishing in the start of a humming sound from the dragon as he went to work.

“Right …” She looked around, but the unicorns had already disappeared from view. “I guess I could follow them, but that might be weird. Which wouldn’t help my image.” She rubbed her chin, face turned to the cloudless sky. “What other ponies could I get to know?”

The ponies around her, unhearing, went about their business. A filly scampered after a colt, and both were laughing. They passed a unicorn who paused frequently to check the progress of the sun; Pinkie considered going after her, but she didn’t even glance her way. Farther away, two earth ponies whispered to each other as they passed a third, who frowned.

A flash of pink caught her eye. Some distance away, a lone pegasus was making her careful way along the streets, deftly avoiding eye contact with all other ponies. She practically skulked, though it was difficult to tell whether that was because of her personality or the bag of feed draped across her back.

Pinkie’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Butterfly! Twilight was with her those other times when we met. They’ll probably find each other again, and we can meet up that way.”

Saying such, she happily trotted after the pegasus, blissfully unaware of the eyes watching her progress.

Progress? What Progress?

Following the pegasus, Pinkie soon found herself at the park, which had a surprising lack of ponies on this fine summer day. She kept her distance as the pegasus settled on a spot near the path that cut across the grass. This didn’t look much like preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration, but it was possible that the pegasus would manage to surprise her.

Shrugging off the sack of feed, the pegasus fluttered her wings a little to celebrate their new freedom. A little smile crossed her face as she looked to the sky, eyes searching. With a dainty clearing of the throat, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to sing a wordless melody.

Pinkie listened. The music floated on currents of joy, and she felt herself relax a little as it soothed her ears and calmed her mind. Somewhere in her heart and hooves, there was a shift — a sensation of becoming lighter but larger — and she indulged in a quiet reassurance that, loop or no loop, there would always be music.

Another voice joined the song. The pegasus squeaked in surprise, faltering as she looked around nervously for the other singer. Her wide eyes settled on Pinkie, provoking a little surprise from the latter when she realized that the music was coming from her. Nevertheless, something inside her swallowed its confusion and continued to let the song flow on, twisting and weaving into existence.

For a while, Pinkie’s voice drifted alone. The pegasus stood still, like a cornered animal unsure whether to fight or flee. Pinkie leaned toward her, making an unspoken request as the song continued to bubble up from its strange source.

The pegasus glanced to the side, shrinking back, but before long something sparked in her eyes. She stood a little taller, taking calming breaths; her ears stood erect as they accepted the music. Resolve smoothed her ruffled feathers, and her uncertainty was forgotten as she began to sing.

It was nothing short of magical. The melody was a dynamic, interweaving thing that slipped under and over reality, bypassing time and transcending space. From above, beings flocked to the sound, providing a soprano chorus the bolstered the music to unprecedented heights. It all came together in a mighty climax, and the last note rang out over the unbroken serenity.

Then it was over, and birds were everywhere, fluttering and chirping in excitement as they circled the ponies’ heads.

Pinkie blinked. “What just happened?”

“Something amazing!” the pegasus exclaimed, nearly loud enough to match normal speaking volume. Then she caught herself, stammering. “I mean … I never thought music could be so nice when shared with somepony. That feeling never happened when I sang alone.”

“Yeah.” Pinkie considered this. Something didn’t quite add up.

“Oh, and thank you! My little friends might not have come for a while if it was just me singing.”

“It’s not a problem.” She watched as the pegasus directed the birds toward the branches of a nearby tree, where they perched proudly. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re having a last practice section for the Summer Sun Celebration. They wanted us to provide the music, so we’re doing the best we can.” Part of her mane obscured her face. “I’m not sure it’s enough, though. Not to say my bird friends aren’t good at what they do!” she added hastily. “It’s just that … well, I worry ponies won’t like our music.”

“Well, it sounds great!” Pinkie said, smiling. “I bet you’ll do fantastically tonight.”

The pegasus scuffed at the ground. “Thank you.”

“My name’s Pinkie Pie! It’s nice to actually meet you, Butterfly!”

“Um, actually, I’m Fluttershy. Butterfly would be a nice name, though.”

“Oh. Well, Fluttershy! Would you mind if I listen in on your practice?”

“Listen in?” Fluttershy shifted her weight from one pair of hooves to the other. “I think that would be fine … if my friends don’t mind, that is.”

The birds had no objections, and soon Pinkie was listening intently as Fluttershy led them in a new song. The music was light, airy, and angelic, just what Princess Celestia would love to hear. Pinkie found herself getting caught up in the fanfare, tapping a hoof in time to the implied beat.

Still, it wasn’t quite the same. Something had happened with the music earlier … something that had lured Pinkie into joining in. She looked to her hooves, wondering at the feeling that had flooded them earlier. Could it have been earth pony magic? She wasn’t well acquainted which such a thing, and it was easily the least thoroughly studied type of pony magic. But why would earth pony magic have a connection with music?

Pinkie must have been puzzling over this for a while, because she was snapped from her thoughts by a familiar voice. “Oh, it’s you, Pinkie. What’re you doing here?”

“Listening to Fluttershy’s music.” Not a complete lie.

“Oh!” Fluttershy swiveled to face Twilight, and the birds trailed off in confusion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I, uh …” She seemed to remember the second half of her name, and she tucked her wings in to her sides in a show of submission. “I’m glad you like it?”

“It’s very nice.” Twilight nodded to the dragon on her back. “Don’t you think, Spike?”

Spike shrugged. “It’s nice.”

There was a moment’s pause. Then Fluttershy, ears perked, rushed forward to push her face up against Spike’s. “Oh my goodness! A baby dragon … he’s so cute! And yet so well suited to nature at the same time. And he talks!”

“Yeah, I do that sometimes,” he said, grinning.

Twilight wrinkled her nose. “This is fascinating, but we need to get to the library. We’ll be staying there while we’re in Ponyville. You can come if you want, Pinkie.” She started to walk away.

“What’s it like to be a dragon?” Fluttershy trotted alongside, catching up quickly. “Do you only eat gems, or are you omnivorous? Or just carnivorous? How is it to live with ponies? Do you really have a lifespan that's a hundred times greater than a pony's?”

Pinkie smiled and took a step forward, intending to join up with them. That was as far as she got, however, as the birds chose that moment to take off; they flocked to follow Fluttershy, and Pinkie just happened to be in the way. She looked around just in time to see one speeding bird chirp in panic before its beak gored her between the eyes.

∞

“Oh my! You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Pinkie rubbed her face, hoping to dispel the phantom pain of a bird lodged in her skull. “Or, maybe I do. Something’s up.”

Mrs. Cake’s smile flickered. “What do you mean?”

“I start dying and repeating time, and that’s weird enough. But now, when I’m singing, I get this weird feeling that doesn’t make sense? And it’s not even something I’m really in control of.”

“... Pinkie, did something happen?”

She sighed. “It’s not important. I need to get further along on this meeting ponies thing. It’d really help to save time if I could just catch them all at the Summer Sun Celebration … but Nightmare Moon will be there by then, and they probably won’t want to talk when she comes.”

“Nightmare Moon? What?”

“Maybe I could gather them all myself beforehand? But how would I do that? It’s not like I could just throw a party and expect them all to—”

She paused, blinking. Mrs. Cake, not one to make others feel alone, blinked as well.

“Of course!” Pinkie threw her hooves up in the air. “A party! That’s just what I need to take my mind off this loop stuff. And I can get to know everypony better too! I just need to find an excuse for it … well, Twilight’s coming, so I can set it up at the library, since I know she ends up there by evening! It’s perfect! Thanks, Mrs. Cake!”

“You’re … welcome?” Mrs. Cake blinked at the puff of dust the speeding Pinkie had left behind. “I do hope she’s all right. Still, she’s more energetic than usual. This might be her turning over a new leaf in sociability!”

She felt a little pang of unease. But that was easily dismissed. Pinkie was excited about something, so why should she worry?

Ponies Shouldn't Tempt Fate

For most ponies, the prospect of gathering sufficient party supplies on such short notice would be daunting. For Pinkie Pie, who had been saving party supplies in her closet since foalhood in childish hopes of throwing the world’s most extensive party someday, it wasn’t even an inconvenience.

More worrisome was the prospect of inviting everypony in Ponyville. She didn’t expect them all to come, of course — the idea of fitting that many ponies in the library was laughable — but if previous parties were any indication, at least a dozen of the townsfolk would be lured in.

The library was deserted when she arrived, which was just as well. It would be easier to set everything up that way. With practiced efficiency, she pumped helium into balloons, hung streamers across bookshelves, and set up a table that would remain empty for the time being. She would buy the food later, since fresher was better.

Once the last of the confetti had been put in place, she looked to the clock. 4:28, it read. Twilight must have arrived in town by now, so she figured she should go about inviting everypony. She made for the door, but paused for a moment, considering what to do. Her eyes drifted over the decorations, eventually coming to rest on the spare balloons. Perfect.

When she emerged, it was with a trio of balloons tied around her midsection to match her cutie mark. Just the right touch of festivity. Now, who would she find first …?

“Excuse me?” she called, making a minty-green unicorn jump. “Would you mind spreading the word around that there’s a party tonight? Everypony’s invited!”

The unicorn’s ears perked. “Even me?”

“Especially you.” Pinkie immediately regretted saying that, though she wasn’t sure why.

“That sounds great!” The unicorn smiled. “What’s it for?”

“It’s, uh …” Pinkie wracked her brain. “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

“... So a surprise party, then?”

“Yes!” She grinned in relief. “It’s for a new pony in town. Purple unicorn with a purple dragon, so actually it’s for more than a pony. You can’t miss them!”

“I’ll make sure those two don’t hear about it,” the unicorn said, winking. “What time?”

Pinkie told her, and soon the unicorn went off on her merry way, stopping a passing earth pony to spread the news. Then Pinkie caught sight of another pony, and she trotted over to repeat her message.

She stood in the library, casting a critical eye over the spread of food. Fresh-baked cupcakes stood watch by the punch bowl, and an assortment of vegetables lay tastefully arranged on a platter. Everything seemed satisfactory, so she plucked a book from a nearby shelf and took a seat.

She hadn’t been reading long when the door burst open. Looking up, she met Thunderlane’s eyes as he trotted into the room, followed by a number of other pegasi. “Is it true?” he asked, face alight with excitement. “Is there really an actual party going on tonight?”

“Yes.” She came over and greeted them, urging them to make themselves comfortable. “I figured, why not?”

“It’s as good a reason as any. Some friends and I were about to do a basic get-together, but this has a lot more thought put into it.” He smiled. “It’s like you knew.”

“You are so funny!” She looked over his shoulder. “Does that guy have cheese puffs?”

Afternoon lagged until evening slunk in, and so far the party was a success. Even though the library wasn’t particularly small, space was still at a premium as more and more guests trickled in. She recognized several faces: Flitter, Cloudchaser, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Cobbler … Apparently a few members of the Apple family had decided to break off from their reunion to join in this new festivity. Pinkie wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty or flattered.

Everypony’s conversations died down at the sound of a sharp whistle. “They’re coming!” chirped Scootaloo, who had been on lookout duty. “And Butterfly’s with them!”

Pinkie darted up to the window to confirm this, then herded the ponies away from the door. “Okay, lights are going out! No talking until they come back on!”

The library was cast into darkness. A few scattered giggles were smothered with frantic hushing, and the room grew soft with bated breath. Pinkie leaned forward on tiptoe, waiting, and her ears perked as the door swung open with a comfortable squeak.

“Oh, I, um … it’s so dark.”

“Look, I appreciate a good … listener … hey, you’re right! It is dark in here! What gives?”

“Ugh! Can’t get a moment alone … look, Butterfly, I appreciate that you’re interested in Spike, but we really need some time to relax! I have to stop Nightmare Moon before it’s too late, and we can’t do that if everypony in this town is conspiring to delay us! Now where’s the light switch?”

Click.

“SURPRISE!”

“!” Twilight jumped, nearly goring the ceiling with her horn. “What!?”

“Surprise!” Pinkie repeated, coming in close. Confetti fluttered around from above. “This is your Welcome-To-Ponyville Party! I knew you were coming, so I got everything ready to make you feel welcome!”

Twilight leaned away. “But I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

Pinkie leaned in. “Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember that mane of yours.”

“Fair point.” She flung a foreleg around Twilight’s shoulders. “But I still knew you were coming! What do you think of Ponyville so far? Is it great? Is it everything you ever dreamed of? Have you met ponies of unfaltering virtue? Have you tried Apple Bloom’s fritter, which isn’t too bad?”

“No!” Twilight nearly headbutted Pinkie, nostrils flaring. Around them, the watching ponies gasped. “No, it isn’t great! I came here on Princess Celestia’s orders, and I expected everything to be up to par for her arrival! But not only is this town full of crazy ponies, apparently they’ve been spying on me, too! Excuse me if I don’t feel comfortable about this place!”

“I …”

“This is a conspiracy, isn’t it? You’ve been watching me, all of you, and you’re trying to distract me from Nightmare Moon’s return! Well, it’s not going to work! I’m on to you all. The princess is sure to hear about this! And conspiracy or no conspiracy, I’m still going after the Elements of Harmony! Now, stay out of my way!”

She stomped outside. Every eye watched her go; no hoof reached out to restrain her. A few lower lips quivered in sync.

“Twilight …” Pinkie’s voice was soft. “The Elements of Harmony are in the Everfree Forest. Just thought you'd want to know.”

Twilight cast her a look of disdain. “Nice try, traitor.”

Then she was gone. Spike chased after her, protesting.

“... I’m sorry,” Pinkie said, unsure who she was speaking to. She dropped to her haunches, slumped in defeat. “I didn’t mean … I just … I’m sorry. I wanted to fix things, that’s all …”

Nopony said anything. Only an awkward shuffling marked the passage of the guests as they departed one by one. Pinkie, eyes drawn to the floor, caught their hooves at the edge of her peripheral vision, but soon they were nothing but a wet blur. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still dripped onto the wood beneath. Teeth were gritted, holding back a sob.

A hoof poked her, softly. Then it touched her shoulder again, more steady this time. “I wish this didn’t happen,” Fluttershy whispered. “This looked like it would be a nice party. Even with so many ponies, I wouldn’t have minded being here.”

“Indeed.” A tissue, held in unicorn magic, dabbed at Pinkie’s eyes. “I’m not well acquainted with this sort of party, but it still held promise. It was a perfect way to welcome a newcomer … if only …”

Another hoof took hold of her other shoulder. “I’m mighty sorry about this, sugarcube. I mean, I don’ know you real well, but you’ve always seemed like a decent pony when you’re talkin’ to my brother. She didn’ have any reason, shoutin’ at you like that … Maybe I shoulda taken it easy when she came over. Might’ve ticked her off some.”

“...” Wings rustled. “Yeah, you weird me out, but she was still way outta line yelling at you. She deserved that hairstyle I gave her earlier. What a jerk.”

“No.” Pinkie hiccupped. “She’s not a jerk. She’s just stressed. I think she thinks that Nightmare Moon’s return is her responsibility. It’s like she has the weight of the world on her withers.”

There was a brief pause. Then somepony daintily cleared her throat. “What do you mean by Nightmare Moon’s return?”

Pinkie swallowed.

“You know,” Rarity said faintly, taking careful steps to avoid stepping in muck, “I still don’t understand what we’re doing here.”

“To stop Nightmare Moon, of course!” Pinkie led the way through Everfree, following the route she had previously walked with Twilight. “The Elements of Harmony are the only things that can defeat her. They’re in this giant ruin in the middle of the forest, and I think we can get to them before the stars get her out of the moon.”

“Sure.” Dash’s eyeroll was almost audible. “A huge castle has the key to stopping Nightmare Moon, and it’s practically next door to Ponyville. That makes so much sense.”

“Now, Rainbow Dash.” Fluttershy’s tone was quiet, but firm. “If this makes Pinkie feel better …”

“Yeah, I know. Even though it’s freaking Everfree, we’re just trotting in because she wants us to.” Dash twirled her hoof next to her head when she thought Pinkie wasn’t looking. “I should’ve just had Thunderlane keep the pegasus party going.”

Applejack snorted. “Now stop that, Rainbow. I didn’ hear you complainin’ when I let you use Big Mac’s yoke.”

“I-it was one time! Can’t you just let it go?”

Despite the bickering, Pinkie smiled. It was nice to worry about the fate of the world with friends. It almost made her forget that she was suspiciously death-prone.

… Were they friends? From their point of view, they had never spoken to her before today. Friendship couldn’t really work that way, could it?

“Wait.” Fluttershy’s voice was soft, but Pinkie’s ears perked at the sound. “There’s somepony ahead.”

The ponies paused mid-step. Ahead, the trees fell away, and the ground abruptly ended in a jagged cliff awash in moonlight. There, peering intently into the depths of the forest, stood a familiar unicorn.

Pinkie stared. “Twilight?”

“Gah!” She spun in place, limbs locking in surprise. Then her eyes focused, and her brow furrowed. “Oh, it’s you. Are you following me in hopes of sabotaging everything?”

“We didn’t even know you’d be here!” Pinkie scratched her head. “Why are you here? You didn’t believe me when I said the Elements were in Everfree.”

“I never said that. I just implied it so I could pretend not to be interested in the lead you gave me.” Twilight rolled her eyes, as if that should have been obvious. “Now, stay out of my way.”

“Listen here, you!” Dash snapped, flapping forward to put her nose right in Twilight’s face. “We’re not Nightmare Moon’s spies. Nightmare Moon isn’t even real. We’re just coming with Pinkie so she doesn’t turn psycho or whatever.”

“Aw, thanks, Dash!”

“What Rainbow Dash means to say,” Rarity interjected, pulling the pegasus back a respectable distance, “is that you have no reason to suspect us of anything. What can we do to prove it?”

“What you could’ve done was not jumping in my face like that.” Twilight shot Dash a nasty look. “You pretty much proved you’re all up to something by knowing me right from the start. You’re basically being assassins, except you’re only working for the most evil mare who ever lived. So not really assassins, but still!”

Pinkie clicked her tongue. “So what you’re saying is that if we’d met in Ponyville earlier, you’d know we weren’t spies?”

“Hypothetically. But that’s beside the point. Now, I’m heading off to save the world from your dark mistress, so if you’re going to try to stop me you might as well do it right now.”

With a flick of her tail, Applejack spoke. “Look, hun, the only reason we’d stop you is so we could come along and help keep you safe on this trek thing of yours. But you ain’t givin’ us a reason to care about you in the slightest!”

“I don’t need your fake pity!”

“Stop with the melodrama!”

“Don’t be hypocritical, Rarity.”

“Get back, all of you! I have a horn and I know how to use it!”

“Wait.” Fluttershy looked around, heedless of the argument breaking out around her. “Pinkie? Where are you going?”

“This is getting us nowhere.” Pinkie wandered over to the cliffside, looking about for the makeshift trail that could take her down the slope. “If we want to beat Nightmare Moon, we have to get the Elements now.”

“But—”

“No buts! If nopony else is coming, then that’s their problem! I …”

Pinkie paused, trailing off. She stared off into the distance, where she could see the faint shape of the castle crouching among the trees. If nopony else would come, how would she get the Elements to work? Didn’t they need multiple ponies to activate?

“And they’re not about to cooperate,” she said to herself. “Did I … did I doom this run from the start?”

What could we have done better?

Then her eyes lit up. “Of course! Twilight just said it a minute ago! Run into her when she gets to Ponyville, make her remember me so the party won’t seem out of nowhere, and she’ll be much easier to handle! Now if only I could reset everything …”

There was a clack as a pebble skipped past her along the hillside. Pinkie looked up.

In retrospect, wanting to redo the loop while standing under an unsteady boulder might not have been the wisest course of action.

∞

Pinkie gasped. She pulled in enough air to make her light-headed, feeling her hooves grow light at some unknowable force lifted her into the air. Her eyes grew wide as she hung there, making her bizarre action as memorable as possible for her audience. The gasp swelled her chest until, in her mind’s ear, she heard the suggestion of faint laughter.

Then she was gone, darting off without so much as looking back. She exhaled deeply as she ran, but that wasn’t enough to obscure a snarky voice behind her.

“Well, that was interesting, all right!”

Girl, You Don't Know the Half of It

Twilight stormed upstairs, but Pinkie didn’t mind. If Twilight wasn’t throwing around accusations of everypony being Nightmare Moon’s minions, what did it matter if she was a little grumpy?

The party went on, regardless. Without Twilight’s paranoia sucking the mood out of the party, everypony was happy to stay and socialize even without her. It helped that Spike, the other guest of honor, was willing and even eager to chat with the guests. His various tales of Canterlot drew many ears to listen, particularly those of a rare variety.

“I’m glad everypony’s having a good time,” Pinkie said to nopony in particular. “It’ll probably help when she returns. And I bet that Twilight’ll still come to Town Hall; I don’t think she’d pass up a chance at running into Princess Celestia. Even if there’s actually no chance of that happening. Ah, how nice it must be not to know everything beforehoof.”

She was correct. After the night had worn thin, the ponies made their way to Town Hall, and Twilight trailed after them almost reluctantly. Pinkie lagged even further behind, keeping an eye on Twilight as an excited Spike led the unicorn down the streets.

Once everypony stood waiting in Town Hall, an air of excitement thickened around the chattering civilians. To the side, Fluttershy prepared her bird choir for the big moment, while Rarity discussed something with the Mayor at the foot of the balcony. Pinkie’s attention, however, was reserved for the balcony itself, where the princess was due to appear any minute now. Nothing stirred behind the curtains.

“I’ll tell you what: this is pretty darned excitin’!” Applejack fanned herself with her hat. “I don’t remember that the princess’s ever been to Ponyville before. This night is gonna make history!”

“It sure is.” Pinkie gulped.

Twilight looked up to a high-set window, through which peered the shadowed face of the moon. “That’s assuming there’ll be anypony left to write down history, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it, sugarcube!” Applejack clapped Twilight over the withers, making her wince. “What could be so bad about the princess comin’ here?”

Twilight winced again.

“Hey!” Dash hissed, gesturing toward the front. “It’s starting!”

Indeed, after a brief burst of feathered music, the Mayor launched into a speech about how this was the thousandth Summer Sun Celebration; how they were so blessed to have Princess Celestia here on this occasion; how she was honored to have the unanimous support of Ponyville as an envoy to the princess …

Pinkie didn’t remember voting for her, but she held her tongue.

“And now!” The Mayor concluded with a sweeping flourish, ending with her hooves pointed up at the balcony. “Presenting our fair ruler, the most honorable being in Equestria: Princess Celestia!”

Spotlights flashed. The curtains pulled back. The ponies waited …

… and waited …

Rarity peeked into the darkness. “She’s gone!”

Gasps soon turned to screams as the air grew just a little chilly; a starry fog seeped in from the windows, coalescing into something resembling a pony. Pinkie was frozen to the spot as she watched dark wings unfurl and cold eyes glare, as the ethereal mane billowed from the helmeted silhouette, as fangs showed in a ghastly mockery of a smile.

“It’s happening,” Twilight whispered. “It’s really happening. Princess Celestia, where are you?”

“Do you think your precious sun will save you?” Nightmare Moon’s voice rang with power, though the words dripped down like oil on the shocked ponies. “I have dealt with her. Rest assured, little ponies: you are mine now. Or do you believe yourselves exempt from justice? Did you not see the signs of my return?”

There was a moment of delicate silence.

“I-I did.” Twilight did her best to stand tall, staring up at the thing that passed for a pony. “... Nightmare Moon. You’ve returned after a thousand years ...”

Dash’s voice cracked. “What did you do to our princess?”

“I don’t think you want to know, little foal.” Wind swept over them as the dark mare flapped her wings. “But come! There is reason to fear, but there is also reason to rejoice. Your rightful ruler has returned, and it will be your honor to serve her.”

“I don’t see a rightful ruler anywhere,” Pinkie blurted.

Nightmare Moon’s lip curled, and the air seemed a little heavier when she next spoke. “You resist. I expected as much. In time, however, you will understand your place. Hear my declaration, ponies: the night will last forever!”

Lightning struck. When the afterimages had cleared from everypony’s eyes, a star-studded fog was trickling through the walls and out of sight.

“Hey!” Dash’s voice rose above panicked shouts. “Come back here, you moonface!” And she shot out the door.

Pinkie exhaled. The creeping terror still lingered, but now, although the warmth of the summer night had faded entirely, she felt a bizarre sense of relief. “I just saw Nightmare Moon and lived,” she said. A grin crossed her face. “I even mouthed off to her! That’s gotta be something.”

She looked to Twilight, but the unicorn was gone. Puzzled, Pinkie darted in and out of the members of the screaming crowd — she had no desire to be trampled to death — and emerged into the unending night, where the light of the empty moon cast strange shadows.

“She must be going to the library,” Pinkie told herself. “Of course! She hasn’t had a chance to study more about the Elements.” She smiled. “We just need to meet up with her. This’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Ponies need to bear the Elements together?” Twilight rubbed her chin. “I guess that could happen. But what’s this about time loops?”

“It doesn’t matter right now.” Pinkie flipped through the reference guide. “We saw Nightmare Moon fly off toward Everfree, right? Last time we went there, she was checking on the Elements. At least, I think that’s what she was doing. So she knows that somepony could pick them up and use them against her.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we’re on the right track. We need to head out and get the Elements before it’s too late.”

“Okay then.” Twilight looked to the other four ponies. “What do you all think of this?”

The ponies shuffled awkwardly. In a way, Pinkie couldn’t blame them.

“Wait a minute.” Dash raised a hoof. “Back up. So you died? What was that like?”

“Rainbow!” Rarity hissed. “Show some decorum!”

Dash shrugged. “It’s an honest question.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Pinkie shut the book firmly. “Are you all in?”

The others exchanged glances.

Ponyville was far behind when Rarity spoke. “You know, I still don’t understand what we’re doing here.”

“We’re not explaining it again, Rarity.” Twilight led the way, horn lit. “And you already know what we’re doing.”

“Well, yes. It’s just that it’s quite bizarre, really. Mares of darkness needing to be defeated with rainbow lasers … now there’s a phrase I never thought I’d say.”

The words wafted around Pinkie’s ears as she looked around, following close behind Twilight. There’s no telling where Nightmare Moon is now. For all we know, she could be watching us. She eyed the twisted shadows in the trees. We have to be careful.

Still, there was a sense of safety, despite the doom and gloom hovering around them. These mares … ponies who had listened to her story, even if it was with a grain of salt. They were an anchor in the sea of time. In some strange way, she didn’t feel quite so alone. It was almost like nothing bad would happen again, as long as she stayed with them.

Pinkie was bizarrely lucky tonight.

The cliff collapsed. Luckily, Dash caught her before she could get more than a few bruises from the fall. On the whole, nopony was worse for the wear, though Twilight and Applejack seemed strangely quiet. It probably wasn’t important, she decided. More worrying was that the cliff was unstable after Nightmare Moon had been freed. The safety of her friends still lightened her hooves, but she kept an eye out, just in case.

The manticore was awake. Some of the others decided to charge it, and Pinkie, not wanting to be left out, galloped alongside them. Luckily, Fluttershy was able to calm the animal down and pull a suspicious-looking thorn from its paw. Everypony passed unharmed, but Pinkie cast a look back just in time to see a wisp of purple fog dissipate into the shadows.

So when they reached the particularly shadowy grove, she could be forgiven for relaxing a little. She was almost skipping along as the others walked, though she naturally kept an eye about to avoid pesky branches and other things she could trip on.

Ahead, Twilight’s horn flickered and went out. “Ack! Magic can’t die on me now!”

Then everything was quiet. Around them, they felt a strange pressure building. Subtle at first, it grew in intensity until they could feel the glare of eyes boring into them. There was an unashamed shuffling of hooves as everypony drew in a little closer.

“Twilight?” Fluttershy’s voice strained. “Please make some light?”

“I can’t,” Twilight whispered. Her horn sparked and sputtered. “There’s something straining the magic. Or maybe it’s me. I can’t do this by myself. Princess Celestia, why am I alone?”

“You ain’t alone,” Applejack said, almost firmly. “Now, we need to get outta—”

It was when Rarity screamed that they realized the grove wasn’t in complete darkness. A deep red glow, nearly unnoticeable, emanated around them from the trees, and as their eyes adjusted they realized the cause of her distress.

Faces had etched themselves on the gnarled trunks, twisted, uncanny visages from within the folds of dreams. Their primal designs spoke silently of rage and unsatisfied gluttony. Eyes burned; teeth gleamed; branches like claws cast scars in the darkness.

Pinkie stared at the nearest face. It didn’t move, but as she kept her eyes pinned on it, she could have sworn that its mouth grew larger, wider, until all she could see were rows of hungry fangs that surrounded her with its impenetrable gullet. She was falling, falling, growing heavy and weary as her ears were filled with the deafening rush of howling winds.

But her hooves tingled. Despite the deathly sensation around her, she felt the ground firm beneath her. She clung to that as the storm raged on, and slowly — almost too slowly — a familiar lightness crept up her legs and into her body. Somewhere in her freed mind, she felt the urge to sing.

So the notes poured out, floating into existence for the sake of existing. Pinkie wondered if she should put lyrics to the music, and she wracked her brain in search of something that would fit. She looked around at Applejack, who stood frozen with horror, seemingly unaware of the red mist evaporating from her face and chest.

“Applejack!” Pinkie sang. She swallowed, trying to hold in the nausea. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s okay! We’ll still be good pony friends anyway!”

She let the music dissolve back into wordlessness, eyeing her fellow earth pony in hopes that this strange, strange magic was having an effect. The mist still wafted off, pulled relentlessly into the leering faces and coating them with a slick sheen.

Don’t think about that. We have to snap them out of it. Pinkie plucked words out of the air, mind racing. “I remember as a filly, I would see the dark and sigh. But one day I asked a question, and the question was, ‘But why?’”

The mist faltered. Then, inexorably, it reversed course and seeped back into its owner. Pinkie could almost hear ponies blinking around her.

“Ugh.” Dash’s feathers rustled. “What happened?”

“You’re okay!” Pinkie exclaimed, eyes alight with glee. The lightness in her hooves dissipated, but she paid it no mind. “Hurry, we need to get out of—”

The red that burst from her face and chest wasn’t so much a mist as it was a bout of sideways rain. Around her, she dimly heard the faces redouble their unsettling efforts, and the roar pounded into her ears, into her mind, into her heart, until she could no longer feel anything but the growing puddle soaking her hooves and freezing her flesh.

∞

Mrs. Cake was alarmed. No, that was too strong a word. She was concerned, she would rather say, at the sight of Pinkie stuffing cupcake after cupcake into her own mouth, not caring that her muzzle was dripping with crumbs. Mrs. Cake’s hoof rose, and she began to say something. Then she stopped, weighed the words in her mind, and started again. “Pinkie, we need those.”

Pinkie paused. She looked at the wrappers littered around her. “Oh yeah.”

There was a sigh. “Dear, is there something wrong?”

“No!” The response was a little too fast, a little too loud. “Absolutely not. I just have to not stop singing after I start.” She licked the crumbs from her face. “I have to be vigilant and so on.”

Mrs. Cake watched her carefully. Pinkie just smiled back, blinking cutely. Eventually, the older mare backed into the dining room again, not taking her eyes off Pinkie until she was out of sight. Had she spent enough time with Pinkie lately? Maybe she should spend some time with her after the Summer Sun Celebration was over.

This time, Pinkie didn’t stop singing when her friends looked around in confusion. She launched into more words this time, words she had been stewing over since that afternoon. The lightness buoyed her, carrying her beyond this place into a sense of hope.

“When I was a little filly and the sun was going dow-w-w-wn ...”

Twilight stared. “Tell me she’s not ...”

“I’d think about a funny friend, a silly kind of clow-w-w-wn …”

Rarity sighed. “She is. I — AUGH!”

Pinkie eyed the ponies in confusion, never letting the song end even as her lyrics tapered off. They were all staring at her with wide eyes, like she’d grown an extra head or something. Why wasn’t the music helping?

Wait … No. They’re not staring at us.

She turned around. There, in the dim red light, a grotesque, painted visage grinned at her.

“I … probably shouldn’t have mentioned clowns in a place like this!” She laughed nervously, casting ripples in the music. “Am I right?”

The monstrous thing nodded. Then it snapped her neck.

∞

“But why?” Pinkie asked. “Why would a monster clown just pop up out of nowhere when I was singing about it?”

The decorated library had no response.

“It has to have been the song,” she said, settling into a pacing pattern. “Or the grove. Or both, even. When I sing, I feel lighter, larger, and other adjectives that don’t fit with the concept of singing. Is it magic? I don’t know a lot about earth pony magic, but even so I don’t know how singing would fit into it. And it all doesn’t explain the clown.”

On a whim, she downed a cup of punch. “Then again, I was singing about a clown, so that’s obviously connected. Does that mean that if I sing about something else, it’ll happen? So maybe I should be careful about what I sing … What if I let the words just come? Maybe it’s like when I started singing with Fluttershy, since that time I just found myself doing it. It’d be a subtle thing. Like earth pony magic, right? Maybe I should ask Applejack or Twilight about this when the loop is over.”

Thunderlane’s voice came from the open door. “Pinkie, who are you talking to?”

“I’m just thinking out loud.” She trotted over to greet the arrivals. “How are you all doing?”

When Pinkie sang this time, letting the words fall where they may, she sang of comfort and laughter. She sang of Granny Pie’s assurances that problems weren’t as serious as they appeared. And as she sang, the faces faded into nothingness, one by one, until the ponies were blissfully alone. Even the darkness of the grove seemed lighter, and when a laughing Twilight managed to light her horn, everything was cast in the gentle glow of magic.

Five ponies chatted to each other as they continued on their way, letting slip a giggle every now and then. But Pinkie, alone in the midst of them, pondered on this. She speculated on where the words had come from and what they had to do with this strange form of magic. Glad though she was to have rescued her friends from the faces, she couldn’t help but feel a tide of unease brewing just below the surface of her thoughts, threatening to drown rational thought.

Granny Pie, she knew, had never told her those words. The old mare had passed away before Pinkie had been born.

It's an Even Split between Spooky and Stupid

When they reached the river, it was a mess of frothing waters. The river serpent responsible was pacified by Rarity’s tail, of all things. As she and her friends crossed to the other side, Pinkie was torn between admiration at the classy pony’s sacrifice, and confusion at the classy river serpent’s lack of Everfree savagery. Still, she’d take whatever breaks she could get.

At the gorge, Dash was quick to fly over and repair the bridge. The ponies were concerned when strange pegasi in dark flight suits confronted her, and even more so when a mysterious fog muffled their attempts to pull her from the distraction. Luckily, Dash soon returned in a rush of wings, proclaiming that she would “never leave her friends hanging.”

“Not bad, Dash,” Pinkie said under her breath, making sure not to be the first to set hoof on the bridge. “Not bad.” But the question of where those pegasi had come from in the first place nibbled at her mind.

In the castle, Pinkie did her best to subtly lead the others to the stone Elements. As this effort was made up of saying “I think we should go this way” multiple times, she couldn’t be sure just how effective this subtlety was, but since they got there in the end, she chalked it up as a success.

“There’s supposed to be a spark when the sixth Element appears.” Twilight pondered on this. “A spark of magic, maybe? Let’s see what I can do.”

She closed her eyes, and her horn lit with an aura that soon enveloped the Elements. The others stood back as the stone spheres lifted into the air, slowly revolving in a circle around her.

Pinkie examined a hoof. It felt a little less heavy.

“How precious.” Star-studded fog descended on the concentrating unicorn, blotting out the moonlight. “But this can’t go on. I’m sure you understand.”

Twilight’s eyes shot open. “What—?”

With a flash, they were gone — the unicorn, the nightmare, and the Elements.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then, all at once, the ponies panicked.

“Oh my goodness.” Fluttershy stared at the recently vacated space. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness …”

“Where’d they go?” Dash examined the slick burn mark on the floor, hackles raised. “She can’t just take Twilight! That’s cheating!”

“Hush!” Pinkie cocked an ear, listening. “I can hear something.”

It took a moment, as a pale Applejack had to pull Rarity from the brink of hyperventilation, but soon quiet descended as they concentrated. Somewhere, further in the castle, they heard a faint hum like unicorn magic, followed by a distant crash.

“We can still find her!” Pinkie darted out of the room, looking up and down the hall before settling on a direction. “Hurry, everypony!”

As she rushed on, pausing only to decide where next to turn, she somewhat registered her other friends struggling to catch up. Her eyes roved over everything as she ran, searching for signs of danger: a glance across the floor, to the ceiling, to either wall, to the scattered objects lying around.

They passed through a spacious court, lit by starlight through an open roof. Faded tapestries hung from the walls in otherwise near-perfect condition, speaking of a glory that once illuminated these chambers.

Pinkie turned to another passage, then jumped as a flash lit up from the top of a set of stairs. “This way!” she called, bounding along. “Don’t worry, Twilight! We’re coming!”

“Yeah, don’t worry! We gotcha!”

“Hang in there, Twilight! Be safe!”

At the top of the stairs, Pinkie stood tall as she took in the scene, despite her lungs’ desperation to pull in air. Behind her, the others crowded around, pushing past her only to pause at the sight before them.

The broad room was unsettlingly clear of objects, with only the occasional rotting piece of furniture to be found. At the far side, the wall was made up entirely with a broad pane of glass, somehow preserved over the millennium; the moon’s unblinking eye stared through this window with pale interest. A stepped platform at the center bore the cold weight of the dark alicorn, who was surrounded with five little piles of shards.

Shards of what? But even as the thought crossed Pinkie’s mind, she already knew the answer.

“You foals are too late!” Nightmare Moon laughed, and the air dropped into a decided chill. “The Elements are no more, silly unicorn. Who can save you from the fate you so richly deserve? These peasants?”

“They’re … my friends!” Twilight staggered into view from behind a shattered column. She was bruised and battered, but her eyes were alight with a hope that Pinkie couldn’t remember ever seeing before. “You can take the Elements, but the spirits of them — the spirits of the Elements — aren’t tied to rocks.” She turned to the ponies, smiling. “All of you are part of something I could never have dreamed of … something that I wouldn’t give up for anything.”

Nightmare Moon scowled. In a flash of dark light, a bolt of raw energy sped across the room, missing Twilight by inches. This was of little comfort, however, as it struck Pinkie squarely in the chest, roasting her heart and frying every last nerve in her body. Muscles flopped uselessly as she was thrown against a wall, and she slid to the floor as if already dead.

In the long, long milliseconds it took for the magic to destroy her brain, Pinkie — under the usual rush of pain — decided that dying was really, really stupid.

∞

Nightmare Moon scowled. In a flash of dark light, a bolt of raw energy sped across the room, missing Twilight by inches.

Pinkie, who had already leapt into the air, watched as the bolt streaked underneath her, and cracked a grin at the muffled impact of magic against stone. Her hooves tingled with the wonderful lightness of being.

“I wouldn’t give it up either, Twilight!” She landed with only a slight stumble, standing tall as she faced the unamused alicorn. “And you were right! We really do represent the Elements of Harmony!”

Twilight frowned. “I never said—”

“It’s the bond we all share that harnesses their power. The virtues are the focus for the power, or the lattices of the crystals. If that makes—”

Another bolt struck her in the face.

∞

“It’s the bond we all share that harnesses their power. The virtues are the focus for the power, or the lattices of the crystals. If that makes sense.” She jumped out of the bolt’s path. “When you really care for ponies, that bond can do anything! It can even passively defend us all, because what else would explain how you couldn’t try to directly kill us when we found the Elements just a few minutes ago? … Unless it’s me you’re aiming at, but that’s a minor detail.”

“You’re making negative sense right now,” Dash droned.

“K-kill?” Fluttershy squeaked.

Pinkie went on. “But it can do more than that, and I’m going to prove it!”

Nightmare Moon bared her teeth. Around her, ice began to glisten. “Cease prattling!”

“Applejack!” Pinkie called, cheerfully ignoring her. “She put together a family reunion, and her family is pretty tight-knit. But she still opened her home to visiting ponies, even sharing the food that managed to survive her sister’s clutches! That’s why she represents Generosity!”

One of the piles glowed, lifting into the air. In a swirling pattern of glimmering crystal, the shards rushed toward the astonished earth pony to encircle her. “Gee,” Applejack said, looking at them with dawning thoughtfulness. “I never really thought about it that way before.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Pinkie noticed that the pegasus grinned at the mention of her name. “She’s never afraid to let ponies know what she thinks of them. And she never pretends to be somepony she’s not! She represents Honesty!”

“All right, all right,” Dash said, nodding in approval at the shards that surrounded her. “I’m down with this.”

Nightmare Moon’s eyes were as cold and hateful as her moon. She unleashed another spell, but the shards of Generosity and Honesty lit in response, and the bolt splashed harmlessly against thin air. Her lips parted in a snarl. At her hooves, twisted stalagmites of ice grew.

“Rarity!” Pinkie’s eyes were shining now. “She likes the finer things in life, but that won’t let her get in the way of helping somepony in need! Even on a busy day, she’ll take the time to make sure that somepony is doing okay! She represents Kindness!”

“Well,” Rarity said, blushing, “I don’t know if I’m capable of all that.” Still, the glow of her shards lit her appreciative smile.

“Twilight! She doesn’t give up when it comes to ponies’ safety. It’s been hard for her to convince ponies that the Mare in the Moon is returning, but she never let that stop her from trying to help all of Equestria! She represents Loyalty!”

“I … that’s right.” Twilight looked down at her shards in awe. “No wonder I pressed so hard on this. Princess Celestia must have known!”

“And me!” Pinkie dodged a third bolt, beaming. “I do my best to make sure ponies can enjoy their lives, and the weird singing I do makes ponies feel better. I must represent Laughter!”

“You’re still missing the sixth Element!” Nightmare Moon sneered, though fear flickered there as the last pile zipped away. “You must be a foal to think only those five can accomplish anything!”

“But you’re wrong. We’ve had the sixth Element with us the whole time.” Pinkie’s eyes brimmed with tears as she turned to the last member of the group. “Fluttershy, something about you … it brings out the best in ponies. Even when you’re scared, you go ahead and make the world a better place. Without you, I never would’ve learned about my own magic. Or whatever my singing is. That’s why you have the last Element: the Element of Friendship!”

“Magic,” Twilight corrected.

“Mmmagic!”

“Well, I — oh!” Fluttershy gasped as a brilliant light flashed into existence above her, shimmering bright enough to make Nightmare Moon shield herself with a wing. “It’s … it’s true. I don’t know how, but … um.” Her wings fluttered, as did Pinkie’s heart.

“No!” Nightmare Moon launched bolt after bolt at the ponies, but she could only watch in horror as the shards coalesced into necklaces around five throats. “No, no, no! This can’t end! My night!”

Her horn crackled with power, and she rushed at her foes with hooves outstretched. The entire room was encased in ice … all, that is, except for an invisible bubble around the ponies. Pinkie looked on as stone cracked from the sheer cold, but all she could feel was the warmth of power and the warmth of friendship. She smiled.

“Your night is wonderful.” Fluttershy’s voice had risen to normal conversation level, so bold was she. “But everything has its time. I'm sure you understand.” Wing guards settled into place, and her eyes lit with some unknown power. “Let’s help her.”

Pinkie’s vision was filled with color, beautiful color that wrapped around everything in an unrelenting embrace. Her hooves nearly lifted her off the ground, weightless in their mystery. A faint noise like laughter filled her mind, growing stronger with every second, and then she knew no more.

Her head didn’t ache. That was the first thing she noticed. Pulling herself together, she looked around at the other ponies, who were also stirring. The ice, once such a fearsome display of power, had vanished completely; not a hint of chill remained. Through the far window, she caught sight of a lightening sky, signaling the coming of dawn.

“What … what just happened?” Dash rubbed her head, messing up her mane even more. A glint of an orange lightning bolt caught her eye, and she considered it with a puzzled look.

“My tail!” Rarity crooned at the sight of her restored hair, waving it in a grand arc. “It’s back! So luscious.” There was a clink as her hoof brushed against a pink diamond. “And this is quite lovely too, I must say.”

“Strange. I didn’t think the Elements would take forms quite like these.” Twilight looked down at her necklace, which bore a red jewel shaped like a starburst. “I can see how these would be useful, though. Very accessible!”

“Just accessible?” Applejack puffed out her chest, taking a good look at the indigo apple resting there. “I’d say these old relic things are just plain incredible! Who’d’ve thought virtues could be somethin’ you can touch?”

Pinkie poked at her own Element. The blue balloon was cool to the touch. “Weirder things have happened, Applejack.” Still, she smiled.

Fluttershy said nothing. She stood in awe as she examined her golden wing guards, each bearing the emblem of a purple butterfly.

“You have done well.” A calm voice emanated from without as the sun finally, finally rose. There was a burst of sunlight, and an alicorn pale as ivory stood before them with wings spread in a gesture of magnificence. Her mane rippled in an aurora of green and pink. “Truly, you are among the most valiant ponies I have ever seen. I was wise to trust you, Twilight.”

Pinkie’s breath caught. “Princess …?” Her senses remained, though, just enough to prompt her to sink into a deep bow. Around her, she heard the others follow suit.

All except Twilight, that is. “Princess Celestia! You’re okay!” She darted up to the immortal ruler of Equestria and exchanged a nuzzle. Then she paused. “But … did you know this would happen? Why didn’t you listen to my letter?”

“I never said I didn’t.” Celestia smiled, motherly. “I've known of Nightmare Moon’s return for years now. The Elements are no longer mine to bear, so I put faith in you to find other ponies of exceptional character, hoping that you could accomplish that which is now beyond me. It seems safe to say that you’ve succeeded.”

“We’re just glad we could help, Princess,” Rarity said. “Equestria means a great deal to us.” She looked around at her friends. “And I suppose we found others who mean a great deal to us, as well.”

“I am very proud of all of you.”

Rarity almost suppressed a squeal.

“But there is one other who needs friendship.” Celestia turned, making erratic, hesitant steps toward the shape of a pony, sprawled ungracefully just a few feet beyond her. How anypony had missed it before was a riddle for the ages.

At the sound of clip-clopping hooves, the pony’s eyes snapped open. Wide eyes flitted toward the princess, who loomed like the sun itself. The pony seemed so small next to her, a little patch of dusk-blue.

Pinkie glanced from the horn on the pony’s lifted head, to the wings tucked tight against her sides. Nightmare Moon …

“Luna,” said the princess, as if correcting the unspoken thought. “It has been far, far too long. And for that, I cannot apologize enough.”

The smaller alicorn gasped.

“Had I seen the signs, had I not been so blind … I can’t even fathom how things might have turned out differently. But I was not there when you needed somepony, anypony. For that, I am truly sorry.”

Celestia’s shoulders shook. She seemed to fold in a little on herself, becoming strangely vulnerable despite her power, and her beauty, and her glory. Behind her, the ponies could only stare in wonder.

“Sister, no.” The voice was familiar, though it lacked its former malevolence. The small alicorn got to her hooves, shakily, and took a few wobbling steps to meet the princess of the sun. “Please. You are not to blame, for in my unspeakable arrogance … in my unbridled entitlement …” She sighed, considering the floor. “I would have done terrible things. I can see them, even now. Had you not done what needed to be done, the world would be a much darker place.”

There was an odd sound of somepony caught between a laugh and a sob.

“Celestia.” Luna paused, then leaned forward to give a daring nuzzle. “I cannot put into words how much I have missed you.”

“Likewise, little sister. Likewise.”

“Please forgive me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Pinkie couldn’t hear the sniffling of the ponies around her. She was too preoccupied with her own. And all around, as the sun rose, light and warmth seeped back into the world.

When they all returned to Ponyville, a herd of astonished faces ventured from their dwellings. Luna seemed hesitant to face the ponies she had terrorized the night before, but despite their initial misgivings, they held no apparent ill will. Her softened appearance and shortened stature in turn diminished her presence, and even foals ventured to approach her in their curiosity and awe.

Around the newfound heroes, however, the attitude of the townsponies was somewhat different.

“Really?” Cobbler was asking, eyes bright with wonder. “You carry the spirit of Generosity?”

Applejack grinned. “Kind of. It’s like … it’s a part of me, y’know? And it always has been.” She peered into the jewel’s unknowable depths. “I ain’t sayin’ nopony else coulda done the same, mind you. It was a right-time-right-place thing.”

“So you’re a lucky pony, would you say?”

“Right on the money.”

Cobbler said nothing.

Further along, a veritable flock of pegasi surrounded Dash, who preened under the sudden attention. Questions pecked at her like birds, but she took them all in stride. The cocky grin never left her face, even as she happily provided the answers they sought.

In the crowd, one filly in particular bounced on a random pegasus’s head, eager to get a glimpse of her new hero. With a flare of feathers, Dash scooped her up and set her on her back. The filly’s resultant smile was nearly ear-to-ear.

Some distance away, Rarity provided Fluttershy with some much-needed support. The pegasus, though off-balance from the sudden influx of attention, was nevertheless not uncomfortable. She seemed like a slowly blooming flower, just strong enough to refuse to wilt under fascinated eyes. Beside her, the unicorn regaled her listeners with a tale of the river serpent, and all oohed and aahed at the appropriate moments.

Pinkie saw none of this. She had darted off to Sugarcube Corner, and now was fumbling with the trapdoor. When she managed to shove it open, she skipped down the dark stairs, eager to find her employers. “Mr. Cake? Mrs. Cake? Gummy? You can come out n—”

A trip. A bump. A pitch forward, rolling and tumbling down the jagged descent. A snap.

∞

“Oh, my! You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

The muffins cooled. They were beautiful, in their own way, golden brown and prettily wrapped. For a long while, they were the only things she could see, and she stared and stared and stared until her eyes watered from the heat of the open oven.

Slowly she turned. Above, the clock read 3:14.

“No …” Pinkie drew to the window, hesitant to see oblivious ponies wandering about outside. “No, no, no! This has to end! I fixed it!” She poked at her chest, hoping in vain to feel Laughter hanging there. “It’s over, right? We won! She’s normal! It has to be over!”

“What do you—?”

“Mrs. Cake.” She faced the stout mare, who drew back at the sight of tears. “We won. Nightmare Moon was gone. Luna came back. It was happily ever after, and everypony could get on with their lives. But it’s happening again. Why is it happening again?” Her breath hitched. “Wasn’t all this enough?”

She slumped, and her mane obscured her face. The will to move seeped from her limbs, and she lay there in a heap, eyes squeezed shut, as if this were only a bad dream and she could soon wake up to see her friends standing over her, while the princesses would welcome her back to consciousness …

But there was only Mrs. Cake, who stroked her back with a comforting hoof in lieu of finding comforting words.

The clock ticked on, filling Pinkie’s ears until she was deafened by its monotonous march. Her lips parted, though she would be insensible to whatever her own words might be.

“Why won’t it end?”

It Says Never-Ending for a Reason

When Mrs. Cake decided nothing serious was going on and went back to taking the treats over to Town Hall, Pinkie set up the party in the library again. This was less because she was looking for a way to make things work, and more because she had no idea what else she was supposed to do. All around, ponies were walking along familiar paths, as if they were attached to tracks that only she could see. They would never stop moving like that, unless she pushed them in a new direction. But what would that matter if the cycle of death and time would never end?

Everything went right. She nudged a platter so that it ran parallel to the table edge. We got the Elements. We stopped Nightmare Moon. We all became friends … even Dash. So why are we doing this again?

“How am I doing this again?” Her hooves clip-clopped as she paced around in a broad circle. “I haven’t even been looping over a full twenty-four-hour period at the longest, and it’s still been taking forever. Forever …”

She trailed off, coming to a stop. Above, a clock ticked obliviously.

“Is that it?” Her voice cracked. “I’m stuck in this forever?”

No, that can’t be it. There has to be something we’re meant to do. But what?

“What else can there be? It doesn’t get worse than Nightmare Moon.”

“What does Nightmare Moon have to do with anything?”

“Thunderlane! Nothing, I was just talking to myself. Come in, come in! Flitter, those cheese puffs look great!”

Ponies filed in, and for the moment the loop was concealed in bright colors of celebration. But it remained, unforgotten, beneath the surface of Pinkie’s thoughts.

The victory over the nightmare was simple enough to replicate — at least, it was simple now that Pinkie knew how to get from one point to the next. So when the colors came down and the cold dissolved into warmth again, her sense of accomplishment was a little diminished.

“I never really appreciated how beautiful the sun is,” Mr. Cake remarked, trailing with his wife as Pinkie led them outside. “It feels like we were down in that basement forever.”

“Don’t be silly!” Pinkie leaned out of the way of a passing foal, feeling jumpy. “Feeling like forever and actually forever are two very different things.”

The Cakes were introduced to Princess Celestia, who was happy to meet with the employers of the Bearer of Laughter. Pinkie smiled and nodded, saying nothing as the conversation went on, and eventually withdrawing entirely. She simply watched with empty eyes as ponies came and went, going about their business pleasantly.

She had nearly fallen asleep on her hooves when a cheer roused her to alertness. Looking around, she saw her friends draw together with expressions of glee, while Princess Celestia narrated a letter to Spike, who was transcribing with wide eyes.

“Isn’t it great, Pinkie?” Twilight’s smile slipped at the seriousness on her friend's face. “Pinkie?”

“I didn’t hear,” she said, trotting over. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to be staying in Ponyville to learn the magic of friendship. Now I can be with you girls all the time!”

“You already are.”

“What?”

“Nothing! That’s great, it really is.” Pinkie tried to be enthusiastic. Then a thought occurred to her. “So, anything specific you have planned? Any big event, or some other world-threatening evil?”

Twilight tapped her chin. “I don’t think so. It should be a pretty uneventful time here.”

“Not while I’m around!” Dash gloated. “You’ll be seein’ this pegasus in the Wonderbolts before next summer!”

Everypony rolled their eyes.

Pinkie cocked her head to the side. “So nothing that could potentially stop everything from happening again forever?”

Rarity frowned. “Pinkie, is there something we need to know?”

“Of course not. It’s not like it’d matter anyway.”

Applejack and Fluttershy exchanged a look.

“I think,” said Celestia, with a tone like somepony navigating a minefield, “you’ll have a marvelous time in Ponyville, Twilight. I’m proud of you.” She smiled. “I think I see a pie over there that’s calling to me. I’ll leave you to your friends, shall I?” She turned, briefly catching Pinkie’s eye before making her way to a table.

As the ponies began to discuss their victory for the twelfth time, Pinkie sidled away to follow the princess. Celestia paused for a moment, looking over the pie again, before selecting a cupcake instead.

“You seem troubled,” she said, delicately peeling the wrapper from the pastry.

Pinkie sighed. “Princess, you don’t know the half of it.”

“Is it anything you’d like to talk about?”

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“I’ve seen quite a few strange things over the past millennia. You might be surprised.” She smiled down at Pinkie, one eye obscured by her flowing mane. “Somewhere more private, perhaps?”

Not far away was the park, which was currently playing host to few ponies; the residents of Ponyville were more interested in celebrating the triumph of the sun with their neighbors than in breaking off into their usual groups. It was here, on a well-kept lawn, that the princess and the party pony took their places, settling down on the fresh-cut grass.

Watching a pony trot down the street, Pinkie began. “It’s like … you know when you’re doing something, and you swear you’ve done it already? That’s how it is with me, except that it really is happening. Life is repeating for me, starting with yesterday afternoon.”

“Could you elaborate, perhaps?”

Pinkie told her of death. She told her of the warmth of cupcakes yet to be frosted, and of two hands pinching the number three between them. She told her of meeting ponies she had before only known in passing, and of Twilight’s determination to find the truth. With hesitance, she told of Nightmare Moon’s cold gaze and malevolent laughter, remembering the terror unleashed upon Equestria for longer than anypony knew.

She took a deep breath, and noticed the princess regarding her with an inscrutable expression. “You don’t believe any of this, do you?”

“It’s not a situation I’m familiar with,” Celestia said diplomatically.

“I can’t prove it to you, I know. Unless you have a secret code word that you can tell me so that when I start over again I can tell it to you?”

She looked apologetic. “I don’t.”

“Figures.” Pinkie examined her hooves. “Well, thanks for listening, at least.”

“I’ve been doing more than that.”

Pinkie looked up, realizing that the princess’ horn was glowing. “How long has that been going on?”

“Since you started telling me about your situation. It’s difficult to believe, yes, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything strange going on.” Celestia blinked, and the magic faded. “From what I can tell, there isn’t any spell affecting you.”

“There isn’t?” She rubbed her chin. “Then what does it mean?”

“I don’t know.” There was a little frown on Celestia’s face. “I’m unsure what to tell you, Pinkie Pie. You don’t seem like the kind of pony to lie. It escapes me, though, what other options there are.”

“I could be crazy,” Pinkie pointed out. A harsh laugh escaped her. “That would sure explain a lot of things, wouldn’t it? Isn’t insanity doing the same thing and expecting different results?”

A white hoof rested on Pinkie’s shoulder. “Whatever is going on, you shouldn’t give up. Everything happens for a reason.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Pinkie blanched. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right. You’re strained, I know. But you can still overcome this, whatever it is. Perhaps there is something that must be accomplished.”

“Something besides Nightmare Moon? It can’t get worse than her.”

Celestia’s eyes focused on something distant. “Things can always be worse. But we can always make the best of it.” She looked to Pinkie. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know. What can I do?”

“If it helps, I would be happy to open the palace library to you. It might help you find some answers.”

“I’ll think about it.” Pinkie wasn’t sure how a library would help if even the princess couldn’t find anything wrong, but she decided not to simply brush off the possibility. She filed it away for another time.

They made their way back to the bulk of the party, passing by ponies who sank into deep bows at the sight of Celestia. Ahead, the other princess was in deep discussion with Fluttershy, who looked distinctly uncomfortable, fidgeting and occasionally fluttering her guarded wings.

“There is a power within you,” Luna was saying. She leaned in, eyes alight; the bowl of oatmeal in her grasp dripped slowly. “The power has been within you all along, for how else could one have earned the Element of Magic? It is a privilege only my dear sister has had in the past. What will you do with that power?”

Fluttershy’s eyes darted to the side. “I, um, don’t really know. I’m not even sure how it works, having Magic.”

“Surely your pegasus powers are beyond compare?”

“Oh, that’s not it. Rainbow Dash is better at those kinds of things in every way. It seems more like … well, like I carry the key to the magic of friendship. Apparently I bring out the best in ponies.”

Luna looked unimpressed.

“... But maybe I’ll have more literal magic in the future?”

“It is a distinct possibility.” Luna took a bite. “I shall watch you intensely.”

“W-what?”

“I did not say a thing, friendly Fluttershy. You have no reason to fear … no reason to love.”

Celestia chuckled at the conversation. “My sister may need time to adjust to this new era.”

“No kidding,” Pinkie agreed. “I mean, oatmeal? Are you crazy?”

Luna cast a cool gaze upon her. “I find that it is sustenance enough when one has not eaten in a thousand years.”

“Uh …”

“What I think Pinkie means to say,” Celestia said, “is that this is a time to celebrate the things that make a pony happy. There’s no reason not to enjoy the Cakes’ work.”

“That is a fair point. Still, I …”

Pinkie drifted away from the conversation. She considered Applejack, who was offering passing ponies her homemade treats. She considered Rarity, who had paused to restitch an old hat for a crying foal. She considered Dash and Twilight, who were exchanging stories of past adventures and future desires.

“They all think this will continue,” she said to herself. “But it can’t. This will stop, and it’ll never have happened in the first place. I can try to break past that, and to get them where they want to go, but if it just resets anyway, what’s the point?”

She looked around. Cobbler met her gaze, and sent her a friendly wave. Cloudchaser chased Rumble as he galloped off with a large balloon. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle sat at a table, laughing at some unheard anecdote. Across the square, a blue unicorn scribbled something in a notebook, her focus lighting her features from within.

“The point …” Pinkie rubbed her forehead. “They’re living their lives, and they do the best they can. To them, everything’s sunshine and rainbows. Maybe I can’t share in their good times, not entirely … but I can always make them better. Isn’t that what friends do?” She smiled. “It’s not like I don’t have all the time in the world to figure things out.”

With only slight hesitance, she trotted off to talk to Applejack. Overhead, the warmth of the sun made its way across the sky, moving with an uncertain certainty as the day wore on.

Leave Your Oxymorons at the Door

So it was with cautious optimism that Pinkie would face the loops to come. Though her friends would become familiar strangers with each death, she knew that they were still good ponies, and it would be easy enough to draw them close time and again.

Everything happens for a reason. That was what Celestia had said. What that reason was, Pinkie didn’t know, and part of her didn’t want to know. But she believed there was a reason, all the same. It was, in a strange way, better than the alternative. In the meantime, she would do her best to make ponies happy, as was befitting of the Bearer of Laughter.

That was the thought on Pinkie’s mind as she stood watch at the counter of Sugarcube Corner. Having survived a full three days this loop, she was beginning to get the hang of not dying. Being able to actually sleep probably helped, though she wondered whether a gas leak would suddenly spring in the middle of the night. Still, she had made sure to throw another party, and she felt satisfied that she had helped to improve the morale of the town.

“Didn’t we just have the Summer Sun Celebration?” Twilight had asked, munching on a slice of cake. “These parties are pretty close together.”

“It’s a Post-Summer-Sun Celebration.” Pinkie had felt a hint of pride at having made up that excuse on the fly. “That’s a good reason to have a party, right?”

As good a reason as any.

Pinkie’s mouth pulled to the side as she turned a page in her book. She had borrowed it with the intention of searching for answers, but her thoughts kept drifting to her situation. Parties weren’t bad, she knew, but there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Maybe she should introduce them more gradually, waiting a few weeks until—

A bell jingled, and Twilight skulked through the door, followed closely by Spike. Pinkie straightened and set the book aside, ears perked at the welcome intrusion.

“Oh.” Twilight paused upon noticing that it was Pinkie, not the Cakes, who stood there. There was a flash of gold as she hid something behind her back. “Uh, hi. Didn’t expect to see you here, Pinkie.”

“Where else would I be?”

“Throwing a party, I don’t know. You seem to like those.”

Pinkie frowned.

“Come on, Twilight.” Spike poked his surrogate sister. “You’ve already run into the other four. This was bound to happen.”

“No it wasn’t! Narrative causality doesn’t happen in real life.”

“What does that even mean?”

“What was bound to happen?” Pinkie trotted over.

Twilight grumbled, pulling out a pair of tickets. “I got these from Princess Celestia. They’re for the Grand Galloping Gala this fall.”

Pinkie rubbed her chin in thought. The Gala was a tradition reaching back to the Time of the Three Tribes, created in celebration of ponykind’s unity. It wasn’t precisely a party, but it was close enough to catch Pinkie’s interest. “Have you—?”

“No, I don’t know who to give the other one to!” Steam practically rose from Twilight’s ears. “That’s all I’ve been hearing about all day. Suddenly everypony wants to be my best friend. I’ve been here for three days, and already ponies want to be around me just because of what I have. It makes me wonder …”

Pinkie patted her shoulder. “I was going to ask if you’d been there before.”

“Well … no.” Some of the anger drained from Twilight’s voice. “I’ve always thought it would be interesting to experience something dating back to the beginning of the first real cultural exchange, but Princess Celestia always said she’d prefer that I just go to a school dance instead. Though she stopped making me do that after the trombone incident. Apparently you’re not supposed to do homework at those kinds of events.”

“Hmm.” Pinkie’s eyes wandered over the treats on display. “Could this possibly tie in to the friendships we’ve made over the Elements? It’s symbolic of that first Gala, or maybe it’s the other way around. I could figure out how not to die that way, maybe.” She remembered that she wasn’t alone. “Oh, uh, I mean … I didn’t say anything?”

Twilight’s eyes had taken on a faraway quality. “I never did ask whether that one colt got the toothpicks out of his ears …”

“Twilight, you’re doing that thing again.” Spike snapped his fingers in her face a few times, making her blink and look around. “Get some food, why don’t you?”

She nodded. “That’s right, I haven’t eaten anything since this morning. What with Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Rarity trying to bribe me.” There was a moment of suspicious silence. “You’re not going to bribe me, are you, Pinkie?”

“Hey, they’re your tickets. I’ll respect your decision.” Pinkie exchanged a cupcake for two bits. “I’ll admit it’d be interesting to go to such a huge party, but I won’t start dogging you if you don’t pick me.”

Twilight’s smile looked a little fragile. “Thanks.”

They stood there for a few seconds. Spike coughed awkwardly.

Pinkie, glancing at the clock, bit the bullet. “So what’ll you do?”

“I’m not sure. Each of the other four has a reason to go, and while some of those reasons are … more plausible than others, I’ll still feel bad for choosing one pony above the others.” Twilight took a bite of her cupcake. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

After they had gone, though, Pinkie wondered if she shouldn’t have tried to persuade Twilight for that ticket. The Gala sounded like a great event for spreading happiness, and that might be just what Pinkie needed to break out of the loops. Half-heartedly, she returned to her book, skimming over pages in a feeble attempt to distract herself.

In the end, she needn’t have worried. As evening drew on, she made her way to the library to return her book. She had moved on to the H section, with no success on finding useful information. Part of her suggested she simply jump ahead to the T section, but she knew better. Who knew what scrap of knowledge might turn out to be useful?

Inside, she was met with an unexpected scene. Four ponies chattered excitedly amongst themselves, while Twilight and Spike huddled gleefully over something unseen.

Not one to be left out, Pinkie trotted over. “What’s going on?”

“Pinkie! Great news. I told Princess Celestia that if all of my friends couldn’t go, I’d rather have none of them go.”

Pinkie’s heart sank. “I … guess that’s one thing to do.”

“But then she sent back enough tickets for all of us! Even Spike. So I guess I was worried for nothing.” Twilight beamed. “I even thought of a friendship report to send her about it.”

Pinkie nodded, vaguely remembering something about the six of them sending letters of discovering the magic of friendship. “That’s great! Could I see mine?”

Twilight floated it over. It was a simple thing, aside from the brilliant golden color, and for a brief moment Pinkie found it hard to believe that this was the thing that would bring her into the Gala. She gazed at it in appreciation, imagining parting a crowd of well-dressed ponies in a ballroom, leaving smiles in her wake.

So lost in thought was she that, as she was making her way back to Sugarcube Corner in the fading light, she almost missed the rush of air nearing her head. It was only as passersby gasped in horror that she thought to look up.

An anvil was descending from above. That wasn’t the interesting part, though. What really got her attention was the thin blue glow surrounding the anvil, making it decelerate until it was floating, stationary, inches above Pinkie’s head. The displaced wind made her mane flutter gently.

Pinkie stared at it. With a trembling hoof, she tapped the anvil, feeling cold metal that refused to yield. Suddenly skittish, she slipped out from underneath it, not taking her eyes off of it all the while.

The part of her mind that wasn’t gibbering in panic seized the detail of the blue glow and studied it intensely. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she looked around, searching for the magic’s origin, but none of the unicorns in sight were using magic. They all looked too stunned to do so, in any case. Around the anvil, the glow flickered and died, sending it crashing to the earth with a disquieting amount of noise.

“Sorry!” called a cheerful voice. A gray pegasus dipped into view, looking sheepish. “Not sure what happened there. I guess you can’t take your eye off the cargo for a minute, or else—”

“Ditzy! The cart!”

That last speaker would remain forever a mystery. Pinkie was in no mood to investigate, having been crushed by a thousand pounds of coarse wood.

∞

“Longest time so far!” Pinkie grinned. “Things are going great, don’t you think?”

The cupcakes had no response.

“What stopped the anvil, though?” She rubbed her chin, narrowing her eyes. “That was an awfully fast reaction time for whoever it was. It’s too bad I don’t know who they are, or I’d go thank them. Even though they wouldn’t remember it. Unless ...”

“Remember what—?”

“It doesn’t matter, Mrs. Cake! I’m going to keep moving forward and try not to die. Whether or not I have somepony to watch over me, I can still do this!” And she hoped that, by some miracle, she hadn’t just told herself a lie.

Keep Dreaming, Shaggy Mare

Pinkie inched her way toward the end of the month. Odd accidents still cropped up around town, but they seemed to be coming on slightly less frequently than they did on the day before the Summer Sun Celebration. That didn’t make them any less distressing, but she always bounced back. Choking on random food tended to become old hat after a while.

Every loop, she would keep her Gala ticket safe in a drawer. During moments in her room, when she was alone and discouraged, she would pull it out and admire its gleaming surface, thinking of graceful ponies dancing and elegant music singing. Then she would feel a measure of guilt for not spending more time with her friends, so she would gather them together for a party. Sometimes it was almost enough to make her forget that her cycle was wearing on and on.

It was strange, really, how slowly time moved when there was so much of it. Or maybe it wasn’t strange at all. On a slow day, an hour could feel like a week. In a time loop, that same hour could feel much, much longer, dragging on in nervous over-the-shoulder glances, nearing an inevitable demise with every second. And that was just the first instance of living through a given period of time … The repetition and monotony wore on her, and she had to suppress an antsy feeling as she waited for the slow path to catch up to where she had last left it.

“I’m moving along,” she half-sang to herself one day, skipping off toward no destination in particular. The streets were strangely quiet at this hour, though the sun hung cheerfully in the sky. “I am slowly but surely making progress. Mrs. Cake would be proud.”

A treacherous part of her hoped that she would suddenly find herself in danger, if only to see whether the blue magic would save her. It hadn’t shown up again since the anvil incident, but Pinkie found it hard to believe that such an occurrence could only happen once in all the loops. Maybe since she was anticipating it, it was less likely to happen. That wasn’t so hard to believe.

“Where is everypony?” she wondered. “Is there a holiday that I never heard about?”

Something cracked. She jumped, looking around for a sign of danger, but she relaxed upon noticing a vivid firework burst in the air some distance away. With a skip in her step, she trotted toward the source of the noise.

In the town square, a stage had been set up. Where it had come from, she had no idea, but she suspected that the loud blue unicorn waving her forelegs everywhere had something to do with it. A large segment of the populace had gathered to watch this unexpected performance; several foals were standing on their parents’ backs, eyes wide with curiosity.

The strange unicorn puffed out her chest, clearly basking in the attention. “Come one, come all, and see the majestic feats of the one, the only, the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Pinkie slunk through the crowd, making her careful way to the front without stopping to imagine the crushing hooves of a panicked mob. There she met the rest of her friends, who were watching the display with varying degrees of skepticism. Fluttershy in particular seemed to find discomfort in every burst of fireworks, as she had taken to hiding behind a perplexed Rarity.

“What’s going on?”

“This pony just came and set up some show,” Applejack said. “Not sure what she’s planning in particular, but I’ll give it the benefit of a doubt.”

“Witness!” Trixie drew an impressive pose. “Witness as the greatest of you, even the strongest and most magical, is brought low by the Great and Powerful Trixie’s might! Who among you dares to contest the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Pinkie stared. “Can’t you just show off tricks by yourself?”

“Behold!” Trixie’s eyes practically bugged out. “A challenger approaches! Join me on the stage, pink pony, and I will be happy to accommodate your desire to crush you in front of a live audience!”

“I don’t think I actually said—”

“No buts!” With some concentration, she dragged Pinkie onto the stage by the tail. “Tell me, what can you do?”

Pinkie glanced over herself for splinters in vital areas, then cast a cautious glance over the rapt audience. “I, uh, throw parties.”

“Throw parties, she says!” Trixie guffawed. “A trivial pursuit, but Trixie will condescend to your level.” She stood on her hind legs, gesturing broadly. “Behold!”

There was a burst of smoke. When it cleared, several clusters of balloons bobbed lazily around the stage, and confetti rained down from above. In the audience, there were a few hesitant “oohs” of automatic appreciation.

“That’s nice,” Pinkie said dismissively. “Very time efficient. But where’s the food? Did you forget it?”

“Forget? Trixie does not forget. She merely waits to see if anypony else remembers obvious details.” She swept a hoof toward the sky, and another burst heralded the arrival of a table laden with treats. “I trust I have trumped your abilities?”

“Well, it’s not a real party without games.”

“A simple complaint to remedy.” Her tail cracked like a whip, and another table appeared; this one held dice, action figures, and a game master’s screen, all colored pale purple. “Trixie finds that this variety has proven popular in the past.”

Pinkie considered this. “I think I’ll have to remember that one.” Then she held up a hoof before Trixie could gloat. “But you forgot one more thing.”

“Name it!”

“Have you made anypony happy?”

“Of course! Trixie is quite pleased with her accomplishments here.”

“I mean, besides yourself.”

“Well, clearly …” Trixie trailed off as she looked upon the audience. While a few looked interested in what was going on, most seemed to be waiting for a flashier demonstration. “I mean, a party is not exciting from the outside. It stands to reason they cannot sufficiently enjoy it as they stand.”

But Pinkie was shaking her head. “You’ve only really succeeded with a party when you can draw ponies in with the atmosphere. When you throw a party, you have to fulfill expectations. It’s about fun, not proving a point.”

Slow comprehension dawned on Trixie’s features as she realized the trap she’d been led into. “You … you cretin!” she blurted. “Trixie will make you sorry for your smugness!”

“Who’s smug here? Urk!”

“That should teach you,” Trixie said with a grin, admiring her handiwork of shoving a blown-up balloon in Pinkie’s mouth. “It is clear that Trixie has won this encounter! Now, is there anypony else who wishes to test their abilities against the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Pinkie’s jaw ached. She wondered how the balloon could fit in her mouth in the first place … and even as the thought crossed her mind, the balloon exploded. She gagged as the plastic flew down her throat, lodging itself firmly in her throat. Suddenly nervous, she tried to pull in a deep breath, but she only succeeded in making the scraps inside of her flutter unpleasantly against her airpipe. Her vision started to swim as she collapsed, convulsing.

“Anypony at all?” Trixie paused, and Pinkie could make out the sight of the showpony turning around. “Oh, what are you —?” The unicorn shrieked, nearly skipping back. “What are you doing? Stop that this instant! Never fear, Trixie will save you!”

“I think you’ve done enough.” Twilight’s voice was cool, and Pinkie felt her magic pull her jaws apart. Something prodded past her uvula, trying to grasp the remains of the balloon. “Don’t worry, Pinkie. I’ve read enough books to know what to do in this situation.”

But the magic still failed to clear Pinkie’s throat. Her eyes lost focus, and after several terrible seconds of shaking in Twilight’s grasp, her energy failed her, and she grew still.

∞

“Who among you dares to contest the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Not us, Pinkie thought, saying nothing aloud. We’re staying out of this.

“Anypony?” Trixie swept her gaze upon the ponies. “Anypony at all?” She rubbed her chin as a thought occurred to her. “Perhaps a volunteer?”

No hooves were raised. Somewhere distant, a cricket chirped.

“Aha! A challenger approaches!” Trixie dragged a struggling Rainbow Dash onto the stage. “Trixie supposes your talent has to do with rainbows, yes?”

Dash shot her a sideways look. “It has to do with my speed,” she said. “The rainbows are just the cherry on the awesome sundae.”

“But is it impressive? Trixie is skeptical.”

Never one to disappoint an audience, Dash rocketed upward, burst through a cloud on her way back down, and scattered vivid colors in the gentle shower of condensation that followed. Above the stage, she executed a hairpin turn that left her image in the air, hanging in a mist that refracted the sunlight into a gentle spectrum. When she touched down, her wings fairly sparkled with dew as they flexed. “Yeah, I guess it’s a little impressive.”

Cheers rang out in the square as ponies stomped their hooves in approval. Even Fluttershy was peeking out from behind Rarity, gazing at the display in awe.

Trixie rubbed her chest, nose turned toward the air. With a glow of her horn, she seized a cloud — a feat that made Twilight stare — and pulled it down to shadow Dash, who was preening obliviously.

Dash looked up, wondering where the sun had gone, and received a faceful of lightning for her trouble. She seized up, mane and tail frizzy with electricity, and flared her wings to dissipate the energy. When the afterimages had faded, she was left staring in surprise, her fur sporting patches of soot here and there.

“Clearly your own element contributes to making you look like a fool.” Trixie smirked. “Not that that’s hard.”

Casting her a dirty look, Dash slunk back into the crowd, where her friends comforted her silently.

“Rest assured, that was merely a warmup act! Trixie requires somepony new.” Her eyes fell to Thunderlane. “Ah! You look like a strapping young lad.”

“I’m probably older than you,” he grumbled.

“Trixie was referring to your skill level.”

Thunderlane blushed.

“Come on, don’t be shy! Or would you rather be known as a coward for the rest of your life?”

His ears were pinned back as he reluctantly made his way through the crowd. Near the front, he bumped into Rarity; he paused to apologize, then shamefully stepped onto the stage. “Are you going to assault me too?” he asked sarcastically.

But Trixie paid him no heed. Her eyes were fixed on the front of her audience, her mouth open in a little “o”. “You! Trixie requires your presence!”

Rarity pointed to herself uncertainly. “Me?”

“Not you. Your pegasus friend.”

Fluttershy, who had been briefly exposed, slid deeper into Rarity’s shadow.

“Fluttershy.” Trixie grinned, shark-like. “Fancy meeting you here.”

A squeak was her only response.

“Trixie will not stand for squeaks.” She levitated the frozen pegasus onto the stage. “Word has it that you hold the Element of Magic. Why don’t you show everypony just what you can do?”

“I-I …”

“En garde!”

Fog formed around Fluttershy, obscuring her from view. Pinkie bit her lip as she caught sight of shapeless figures shadowed in the depths, glaring at their captive before vanishing and allowing others to take their place.

“Please.” Fluttershy’s whisper could be heard across the square. “Please stop this.”

“Oh, Trixie will be glad to do so. Eventually.” Seizing a heavy cloud, she set it above her victim, nudging it into producing a light shower. “I hate to rain on your parade, but—”

“That’s enough.” Twilight swept the fog away, dispersing the cloud with a thought. She smiled at Fluttershy, who trembled a little less at the reassuring look. Then she cast a cool gaze on Trixie. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right to harass my friends.”

Trixie sneered. “And who do you think you are? Clearly not somepony who understands the greatness and power of mmph!”

“If you’re going to pick a fight with any of us, it’s going to be me.” Twilight watched as Trixie fumbled with her mouth-turned-zipper. “Leave everypony else out of this.”

Managing to unzip her mouth, Trixie pulled in a gasp before shaking herself. “Well! It seems we have a challenger worthy of Trixie after all. Fillies and gentlecolts, Trixie proposes a duel! Here and now, Trixie will prove her dominance over this other pony, and—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Twilight glared. “What I meant is, if you humiliate anypony else, so help me I will hang you by your tail from a tree.”

Trixie paled. “Uh … this concludes the astounding performance of the Great and Powerful Trixie! Autographs will be signed for the next half hour!” In a puff of smoke, she vanished.

The ponies stood awkwardly for a moment. Then, gradually, they dispersed, gravitating toward their usual orders of business, glancing back at the suddenly forlorn stage.

Fluttershy looked up as her friends rushed over. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, shaking herself dry. “I know I let you all down, but—”

“Dear, there’s no need to apologize.” Rarity hugged her gently. “Only that showmare is to blame. You did nothing wrong.”

“But she’s right.” Fluttershy sniffed. “I’m not a real Bearer of Magic. I'm not a great flier or aeromancer. Somepony who’s good at it should have it, like Rainbow Dash.”

“Don’t say that!” Pinkie smiled at her, brushing her mane out of her face. “It’s not just unicorn or pegasus or earth pony magic that factors into it. It’s the magic of friendship. Remember? You’re Fluttershy, the one who brings out the best in ponies.”

“I’ll say,” said Applejack, tilting her hat. “You’re the one who ties us together. Hay, I can’t imagine what we’d do without you.”

“Although I’d make a pretty awesome Bearer of Magic.” Dash leaned back from the force of four frowns. “Sorry.”

Twilight patted Fluttershy’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, we’re here for you. Just like you’re here for us. If it helps, I’d love to talk with you about pegasus magic sometime.”

The corners of Fluttershy’s mouth tilted upward. “Thank you, everypony. I guess I still need time getting used to all this.” Then she sighed. “I should talk to Trixie.”

“Not to pick at anythin’,” Applejack remarked, “but she knew your name when she was singlin’ you out. You two got a history or somethin’?”

Rarity frowned. “I find it hard to believe that sweet Fluttershy has anything to do with her.”

“No, Applejack’s right. We’ve known each other for a long time.” Fluttershy looked around at the others, as if fearing judgment. “You see, Trixie and I … we're cousins.”

You Already Have an Alligator

Pinkie decided that, interesting as the Ursa incident was, she would really rather it didn’t happen again. Even while she laughed with ponies at the library party, the gears in her head spun in their webbed cycles as she contemplated on how to avoid a repeat of her goriest death yet.

First, she needed to figure out what the deal was with the looping. Part of her wanted to angst about the unfairness of it all, but she had done that plenty of times by this point, and it would ultimately get her nowhere. No party was less fun than a pity party. To figure things out, she needed to find resources on time, on chronomancy, on anything that might have even the slightest connection to strange and unexplained phenomena. And to do that, she’d need to venture beyond the Ponyville-Everfree area.

“I must admit, I didn’t quite expect this would be anypony’s request, let alone yours.” Celestia’s eyes twinkled in the afternoon sunlight as their chariot drew nearer to Canterlot. “Still, I’m always happy to help my little ponies learn and grow.”

“Sister, your voice is a comfort to me, but your platitudes are less agreeable.” Luna puffed out her chest. “Do you not agree, Pinkamena? Or has she led you all carefully down to such indignities?”

Pinkie looked deep into Luna’s face. Luna looked back, expectant, and Pinkie realized that it was impossible to tell whether she was joking or not. “Um … It must be nice to be with your sister again?”

Mercifully, Luna took the bait. “Verily, ‘tis utter bliss after the long emptiness I experienced on the moon. To escape at long last from the immobile inertia, and pull myself away from the midst of the vast space between the stars … well, my sister’s company is leagues above those prior experiences.”

“I’ve waited so long for this day, Luna.” Celestia nuzzled her sister, who rested her head underneath Celestia’s chin. How she managed to avoid skewering herself on Luna’s horn was a mystery. “Watched and waited, missing you … I still haven’t forgiven myself for banishing you so severely.”

“Cease your self-disparaging! In my madness, I gave no thought to the creeping chill that would be eternal night’s foremost consequence. ‘Twas folly, for how can anypony be loved if there is nopony to love her? If I had been rational so long ago, events might have turned out differently. In any case, it is I, not you, who must take the blame.”

“There is blame enough for all,” Celestia conceded. Her gaze fell upon Pinkie. “All who were involved so long ago, that is. But it’s in the past now, and I hope we can move on from that.”

“I share such sentiment, dear sister. But how shall we proceed?”

Pinkie’s ears stood erect as an idea struck her. “I know! When you’re feeling all the way better, we can throw a ‘Welcome-Back-To-Equestria’ party! I’m sure ponies would love to see a long-lost princess, and I’m just as sure you’d love to see them loving you.”

“Ah! That would be grand, Pinkamena. Though I fear I must spend some time readjusting to this modern era — there is much to learn of the strange new ways that envelop Equestria.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard. My friends and I can get you into the fun in no time!”

“Is that so? And what, may I ask, is this ‘fun’ you speak of?”

“I …” Pinkie stopped, mouth half-open. “Well, it’s like … it’s fun, y’know?”

Luna tilted her head quizzically.

Celestia giggled. “There will be time enough and more. For now, we approach Canterlot. Are you ready?”

Her sister nodded, gazing at the city’s gleaming spires. As for Pinkie, she looked back at the distant collection of houses that formed Ponyville, trying to ignore the heaviness in her gut.

The Star Swirl the Bearded Wing was smaller than she’d been expecting. Not that that was saying much — she’d been picturing a vast, cavernous maw of forbidden knowledge, so even the spacious maze of bookshelves she now stood in was a step down, despite the wall of domed glass at the far end, which would allow patrons to look over the city. Still, all this material would give her plenty to do. Now, where to start …

Tentatively, she pulled out one of the books closest to the door. A quick look through its pages revealed several flashes of the word “time,” so she flipped back toward the beginning and started reading from there. Within seconds, though, her eyes glazed over as a parade of eight-syllable words marched across the page, expositing on some ancient theory or other.

“What does this even mean?” she thought aloud. “How is a myth about ‘quantum physics’ supposed to help? This doesn’t so much as hint at what it is.”

That was one book down, then. But from there, the books seemed to fan out in every direction, each whispering for her attention. There had to be thousands of books in here, maybe even tens of thousands. Steeling herself, she pressed forward, taking care not to stand next to anything too heavy or unsteady.

The first letter came three days later, as Pinkie, taking a break, was considering the circumstances. So far, she had spent most of her time in the library, stopping only to eat and sleep. While she hadn’t seen much of the castle, she didn’t particularly mind. There was quite enough to do as it was.

But everything had been strangely quiet. No towering statues fell, no chandeliers collapsed, and she didn’t so much as choke on the dust from the lonely books. She was alive through no particular effort of her own, and that strange fact was enough to make her uneasy. She'd never set hoof in Canterlot before, and she knew nothing of the little dangers that lurked at every step ... so how could she have managed not to die?

A flash of green and a popping noise startled her from the comfortable rut of worry. Of course! Her friends would still be in touch with her, regardless of distance. Somepony must have figured out how Spike could deliver dragon-fire messages to other recipients.

"I hope everything's all right," she said to herself, cracking a smile at her name written tidily on the letter's surface. She sat back and unrolled it, with one ear flopped to the side. "But why wouldn't it be? Twilight's smart, Fluttershy's magical, and they're all competent in general. It'll be fun seeing how they do!"

So saying, she perused the first of many letters.

Enjoy

Dear Pinkie,

I hope your search is going well! I still can’t figure out what’s so interesting as to pull you away so suddenly, but it must be important. Rainbow Dash has been pretending not to be interested in the whole thing, but I think she misses you. Don’t tell her I said that, though.

We had quite a surprise today! Princess Celestia sent me a pair of tickets for the Grand Galloping Gala. Have you heard of it? It’s a big deal, and I was a little upset for a while because no matter what I did, I wouldn’t be able to have all my friends go. It sounds like something you’d find interesting; I know it makes me want to crack open my copy of Tribes and Tribulations. Remind me to tell you about my list of historical fiction of the Time of the Three Tribes. That’s a real cause for celebration.

But about the tickets: the others ended up finding out, one way or another, before I could figure out how to fix this. It didn’t take long before all of Ponyville caught wind of it! Everywhere I looked, ponies would be trying to get my attention, wanting to be a guest at the Gala. The only one who wasn’t trying to bribe me or otherwise convince me to take him was Spike. Only Spike! Every single other pony was …

I wonder just how deep these friendships run. They were enough to beat Nightmare Moon, but now, with everypony out for herself, it’s like they’re already forgotten. Heck, Applejack was the first to ask if I’d take her, and she has the Element of Generosity! I’d hoped there was more to the Elements than just nominal ownership. What does it mean when just a couple golden scraps of paper are enough to make friends turn on each other?

You wouldn’t do that, right, Pinkie? You’re the Bearer of Laughter. The one who helped me figure out who was best suited to what Element. I’m inclined to believe you made the right choices, but nevertheless, none of these four have been generous or honest today, and their kindness and friendship seem hollow. Don’t get me wrong: I’m still glad I’ve gotten to know all of you. I just can’t help but feel like that isn’t reciprocated.

Anyway, I’m rambling. This afternoon, I was so fed up with everypony trying to win me over that I came up with an idea to discourage them: a race from here to the top of Smoky Mountain and back, bringing a token to prove they’d made the climb. Surely, I thought, nopony would want to risk their safety for something as silly as a ticket to a dance. It wouldn’t have made sense!

… But I am beginning to realize that, for all its virtues, Ponyville as a whole does not make sense. I was reading in peace, glad not to be disturbed for once, when Spike interrupted, looking panicked. He told me of how the streets were deserted, and of the fading rumble of a stampede. I thought he was imagining things at first, but when I went outside to assure him, everything was quiet. There isn’t a single pony left in Ponyville, besides me.

And now, here I am, waiting. I don’t know what to do. Logically, I should go after them all and call it off, but I don’t think they’d listen to me at this point. And even if they did, how would they see it? Twilight Sparkle, who taunted them with a once-in-a-lifetime event without intending on rewarding the victor? Some Bearer of Loyalty I am. I can’t even keep a promise.

What should I do?

Best wishes, Twilight Sparkle

Much is speculated about time, the book read, but little is proven. Ancient chronomancers were less practitioners of its manipulation than philosophers of its nature—though admittedly the case is very similar today, even in this most enlightened of ages.

The book had been written hundreds of years ago, but Pinkie, thirsty for knowledge, kept reading.

With dozens of competing philosophies, there is little room for agreement or cooperation, and so no room for progress. The animosity between the Paradox Faction and the Yggdrasil Theorists is particularly unpleasant. The former insists that events could be changed freely across time, while the latter is certain that every tiny change would splinter the timeline to an unimaginable degree. This is, of course, disregarding the Nihilists, who believe that the entirety of reality would be wiped out if we even begin to comprehend the nature of time. These groups as well as others, however, are assuming that time is even malleable to begin with ...

Pinkie Pie,

Your letter was kinda weird, but Twilight took it pretty seriously. I gotta admit, I didn’t believe it at first. A giant star bear? Fluttershy’s jerk cousin? Seriously, kinda hard to swallow there. But you were right all along!

Oh, right, the race. I technically won, fair and square. So what if I forgot to find a rock or whatever and bring it back? I didn’t hear that part. Twilight didn’t make that clear, at least while I was listening. It’s like she didn’t want me to win or something. How lame is that? At least Cloudchaser and Blossomforth can tell me how the Gala goes. Not that I’m jealous or anything.

Twilight seems a bit off. Maybe we stressed her out too much with the tickets, but she hadn’t come out of the library in days. Spike would make us leave if we tried to go talk to her. I guess she was cooped up there like a hermit. Did she really change at all? I snuck a peek at her through the window, and she seemed kinda twitchy. Maybe ponies who get Loyalty are just crazy like that.

Then Trixie came, and Twilight showed her up. Sort of. See, Trixie bullied Fluttershy, and after Twilight stood up for her (Fluttershy), she (Twilight) started going through the library for something. Then these dumb kids brought in a star bear, and Trixie fought it. For a few seconds it actually looked like she might win, but then, WHAM! Punted across the horizon. It was awesome.

That’s when the bear disappeared in this burst of magic — I’m thinking that was Twilight, though nopony’s told me if that’s true. But most of Ponyville got wrecked before it left, so most of the ponies are homeless now. Not me, though, I’ve still got my sweet cloud house. A bunch of other pegasi are crashing here for the time being, so there isn’t much room to even think. I had to close off the upper floors and pretend they were for storing stuff to keep too many of them from just hanging around.

I feel like somepony could’ve done something to stop this. Isn’t Twilight super-magical? She could’ve kicked that bear’s rump after Trixie. It might be she’s sulking about those tickets, I dunno. Or hey, maybe Fluttershy! She’s good with animals. She could’ve told it to chill out or something. I think she’s hiding in her cottage, probably because of Trixie being majorly uncool. Probably just stayed there when she heard the roars. That’s ‘Shy for you.

There’s something missing, Pinkie, and it’s not just you. No offense.

Rainbow Dash

The first Chronomancy Council took place in the youth of the third year during the Long Winter. (“This refers to the Second Long Winter, at the tail end of the Time of the Three Tribes,” an overzealous editor had written in helpfully.) Naturally, representatives of all three tribes were present, though not lacking in distrust as was common to the time. While little was accomplished as a result, the chronomancers did agree that, whatever time really was, it was not to be trifled with. All parties agreed not to meddle with its workings, even as tensions between the tribes came to a head. Better to let their comrades come to blows, they reasoned, than risk the world’s very existence.

“Earth ponies and pegasi, too?” Pinkie rubbed her chin as she looked up at the window, processing the information. Then her gaze caught the smoking ruin of Ponyville, and she bit her lip, seeking to distract herself once more.

Pinkie,

Rainbow Dash is gone.

I hate to open this letter so dramatically, but the occasion demands it. I shan’t hide the details further, though I fear that, what with the tumultuous events of these weeks, you may wish I’d kept up pretenses of the ordinary.

We had a visitor two days ago, one of the griffon variety. Rainbow Dash was apparently well acquainted with her, as they spent hours swooping among the clouds and smoke, performing aerial tricks while the rest of us worked to rebuild Ponyville. I don’t wish to sound like some sort of grouch, begrudging others for having fun in this troubling time; it simply seemed less a matter of making the best of a bad situation, and more a matter of outright ignoring the plights of others.

I endeavoured to live up to my Element and kindly requested them to assist us, as it rankled me to have so many ponies go without roofs over their heads. To my dismay, the griffon proceeded to barrage me with a variety of boorish insults, not unlike the sort Sweetie Belle overhears across the school playground. I was irked, but not overwhelmed, having indulged in mentally applying these terms to myself during particularly difficult projects. This was not, in itself, troubling.

No, the troubling thing was Rainbow Dash’s silence. Where I had expected a defense of my good character and the town’s entitled reparation, there was only a thoughtful look … a look, dare I say, that almost agreed with the griffon’s tirade. Did she resent us for the ticket disaster? Perhaps, though I find this beyond even her. Surely she has realized that some aspirations are simply not on the level with other, more deserving ones. But I, being something of a fool, did not request that she be open about it, and so continued the parade of all work and no play.

That was my mistake, I fear. The next morning, Rainbow Dash and the griffon were nowhere to be found, though Scootaloo reported seeing them flying east. They were laden with supplies, she told us, and seemed intent on a steady course, allowing nothing to dissuade them.

You can imagine our shock at this news! How could Rainbow Dash, chosen for her very honesty, prove to be so hollow? Applejack and I can scarcely contain our disbelief. As for Twilight and Fluttershy, I have seen neither hide nor hair of them, and so cannot tell whether they have even heard the news. Spike, unfortunately, can tell me little of his friend’s disposition, as he spends more time outside of the library than in it … whether this is of Twilight’s volition or his own, I can’t say. I count myself lucky in this regard; how else could I send you this letter?

I do hope you’re finding what you’re looking for, Pinkie. I think I speak for all of us when I say we truly need the laughter back in our lives.

Love, Rarity

Star Swirl the Bearded, long aided by his magic to live far beyond the span of all other mortal ponies, is sometimes rumored to have pondered on the nature of time for decades. Reports from early Equestria tell of how he sequestered himself in his quarters, devoting research untold to all magic; while this, of course, would have precluded a total dedication to chronomancy, there is little doubt that he studied the matter to some degree.

The most prominent of his discoveries in this field was the stable time loop, a phenomenon in which a pony, in traveling to the past, could affect or even set in motion the events that would lead her past self to traveling in the past. While chronomancers were initially skeptical of this due to its paradoxical nature, one of their number soon supported his theory, claiming to have been visited by his own future self. Naturally, Star Swirl was convinced to weave safeguards into this time-traveling spell, such that any given pony could cast it only once. The potential consequences of looping back repeatedly were too dangerous to consider ...

Pinkie,

Things ain’t goin' so well over here. Princess Celestia’s started helpin’ send in some of the National Emergency Relief Fund, and a few volunteers have come in to help rebuild things — but apparently they can’t help us as much as they’d like. Something about an infestation in Fillydelphia not leavin’ behind a scrap of food. The entire area was left empty in just a couple days, or so word tells. It’s rotten of me to say this, but there’s somethin’ a little comfortin’ in knowin’ there are ponies worse off than we are. Kinda tells us we can get through this, somehow.

‘Course, some of those ponies are part of the Apple Family, so we’ve been makin’ sure to help ‘em out. Sweet Apple Acres got hit hard by the Ursa, but we have some stores squirreled away for just this sort of thing. I sent Big Mac and Caramel off two days ago to lug a cart of food over there. Fillydelphia ain’t exactly over the next hill, so I appreciate ‘em headin’ off to help.

Thing is, I walked into town yesterday and got a heap of dirty looks. Rarity in particular seemed snippy, asking me why I’d ship off goods somewhere else when we were in plenty of trouble as it was. I was put off some, realizin’ she was right, but I told her I wasn’t about to ignore Apples who needed help. And I told her, frankly, she needed to stop hintin’ that ponies weren’t doin’ things right. I ain’t gonna repeat what we said after that, but I think you can guess.

By then, I figured there was no point in telling her I had plenty more stuff stocked up. She wouldn’ understand that if these kinds of disasters could happen so quick one after the other, what’s to say Appleloosa ain’t next? Or Manehattan, or Seaddle? I ain’t about to give up everythin’ we’ve got to Ponyville when the fund can cover ‘em. These ponies here just gotta be patient. And if she’s so concerned, why ain’t she sendin’ a search party for the little filly that ran off the other day? Is she that obsessed over fixin’ her boutique?

Things are fallin’ apart, Pinkie. With RD and Twilight outta the picture, ain’t no tellin’ how we can fix things now. Least we can rest easy knowin’ things have to get better eventually. Gotta keep our heads up.

Regards, Applejack

About three centuries past Nightmare Moon’s defeat, the Chronomancy Council vanished without explanation. No trained chronomancer has been seen since.

That was the end of the book. Pinkie frowned, just a little, and set it aside. She looked back at the trail of books scattered along the floor; while she had at first been putting them back, the creeping urgency of whatever was happening in Ponyville pushed her forward. It wasn’t as if anypony would care, anyway, what with the unrest going on lately.

Nearly a month had passed since the start of the loop. It was the longest she’d survived yet, less because of her own diligence and more because of a simple lack of accidents. Logically, she knew she should relax at this, but there was something about the situation that made her skin prickle.

It can’t be that bad. Isn’t it better than dying all the time?

And yet ...

“I have to find something,” she told herself, turning to the huge section on theory last of all. She’d been putting it off, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of unicorn magic, but she’d run out of options. “I gotta break out. They’re counting on me, even if they don’t know it.” But even as she said it, she wondered if breaking the loop at this point would help anypony at all.

Dragon Twilight crazy help

Pinkie stared, transfixed, at the distant winged shape over Ponyville. Smoke billowed from half-constructed houses, lit with flashes of purple light as bolts of magic sizzled in every direction. From a tall Canterlot tower, a white-feathered figure winged its way south, unperturbed by the roars that made the air shiver even at this distance.

“What have I done?” Pinkie’s question was more mouthed than spoken, but the words hung heavy in her throat. “Is this what happens when … when I don’t …”

A blast of fire swept down on Ponyville. Unable to watch, she turned away from the window, shaking. Books and scrolls littered the floor before her, but she ignored them, instead sinking to the floor and covering her ears. Maybe the screaming really was in her imagination, but it still made her feel better.

Something smacked against her nose. She inhaled sharply, skittering back before realizing it was just a book. Ha, “just” a book. Twilight would take it so seriously. Then again, Twilight was—

Another book thudded to the floor, followed by a third. Pinkie, watching warily, thought she could catch a faint blue glow nudging every volume out from its place, sending them tumbling oddly close together. The scraping of parchment against stone was almost enough to distract her entirely from the arcane flashes behind her.

“This isn’t random,” she realized suddenly. “It’s way too orderly. Almost like they’re …”

She stood on tiptoes, leaning forward in hopes of getting a better view of the fallen books. After eyeing them for a moment, she scrambled on top of a bookcase, heart fluttering in her chest, and looked down at the books again. Staring, she mouthed the words to herself, then sprang to the floor and dashed out of the wing, leaving a trail in the useless information.

Behind, the books’ message lay sloppy in the light of the fiery dawn.

FIND DW

Do What?

Finding his address wasn’t hard. It was time-consuming, certainly, what with Equestria’s extensive records on its residents, but it wasn’t hard. That room of the library, normally watched over by sharp-eyed guards, lay abandoned, letting Pinkie practically waltz into the place. Where the guards were now, she wasn’t sure — maybe setting out to meet the dragon, or maybe starting on a Canterlot patrol to keep the damage at bay, or maybe heading off elsewhere for some other crisis. It was telling that these were the more optimistic possibilities that occurred to her.

Eventually, she made her careful way through the streets of Canterlot. The afternoon sun hung red in a smoky sky. As she went on, working her way down from the palace, the buildings grew less and less opulent — though of course this was hardly to say they weren’t opulent at all — and the ponies seemed less and less keen on spending more than seconds outside. Though Pinkie had rarely ventured outside since arriving, the streets looked especially unfamiliar. If not for the direction of a helpful blue unicorn, she doubted she could have found her way at all.

As it was, she found herself in front of a box-like, single-story building nestled right against the side of the mountain. The roof was in tatters, the walls were worse, and Pinkie had to triple-check the address to make sure she was in the right place. Slowly, as if the house might bite her, she leaned in and tapped on the door.

A wheezy voice called from within. “Trixie? ‘Zat you? … C’min, ‘s unlocked …”

Inside sprawled a maze of possessions. Loose boards formed makeshift shelves for a variety knickknacks, most of which were unidentifiable, though many of them sparkled with glitter. Pinkie picked her way through the relics of past decades, taking care to avoid the stuffed bear head mounted on the ceiling.

“Nice o’ ya t’ drop in on yer ol’ stallion,” the voice said plaintively. “D’you bring any of ‘em ca-ra-melized carrots? ‘M hopin’ t’ get a li’l more mileage outta these teeth.”

The stallion lay curled up on a couch, facing the wall. His unkempt gray coat hinted at a past of youthful green, and his mane was a few strands of wispy hair. As Pinkie watched, his horn lit up, and the glass of water on the upside-down box next to him floated shakily toward him in an aura of yellow.

Pinkie cleared her throat. “You’re Double Whammy?”

The glass paused. “Yer not Trixie. Sound like one o’ the other grankids — wossername, I think. ‘Aven’t seen ya lately, Butterfly. This about the huntin’ trophies agin?”

“Uh … no. I just wanted to ask … do you know anything about time loops?” She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Nice going, you social klutz. Whatever happened to subtlety?

“Whazzat?” The stallion pushed himself onto his front hooves, trembling as he began to turn. “Girlie, y’mind talkin’ sense? Whaddya even—”

Their eyes met. Silence fell, and Double Whammy went very, very still. His eyes bored into her, and then, unblinking, they flickered like camera shutters from yellow to blue.

Pinkie stumbled backward, overturning a sizable collection of bizarre items. “What—” Her hooves flailed for a moment before finding the floor. “You’re the … must be … magic pony … moved the books …”

“Yes,” said Double Whammy. “And more importantly, no.” He stood up, disregarding his delicate bones. “However did you figure it out?”

She swallowed. “Well, I, um. If somepony was pulling the strings somewhere, then they’d know what’s happening to me, which means they’d know the events going on in my life, which means they’d know I’d be able to figure out a vague clue like that based on recent events … I don’t know what I just said.”

“Clever girl.” It was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic. The shift in voice, strengthened from quavery to firm, was disconcerting enough. “I knew you’d realize that it wasn’t a coincidence that Fluttershy and Trixie are related. Clearly you figured some changes had been made.”

In fact, Pinkie hadn’t thought about that mystery too deeply, but she decided not to mention that. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Call me a friend you haven’t met yet. Double Whammy is just a go-between, really.” He cracked a half-toothed grin. “This must be what it feels like to be you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” His smile faded. “We don’t have much time. I’m supposed to give you a message.”

“A message? From who?”

“Mm, that doesn’t matter yet. And, well, it’s not all at once. More will come later.” He beckoned her closer. “Are you ready?”

Logical response was clearly not an option at this point, so Pinkie simply nodded.

“First: find a chronomancer. Second—”

“But there aren’t any more chronomancers!” she blurted. “The book said the council was—”

“The council is gone, not the chronomancers themselves. They’re out there,” he said. “And by ‘out there,’ I mean not too far off. They’re not all that hard to find when you know to look at their cutie marks. Though by 'chronomancers,' I mean ponies who are conscious of using chronomancy to even the smallest degree. Not exactly Star Swirl the Bearded material.”

“I … oh.” Pinkie thought of the residents of Ponyville, most of whose cutie marks had been a blur to her. “That does make sense. Time-related cutie marks; got it. What’s second?”

“Second: don’t worry.” He nodded sagely, as if he’d imparted a state secret.

She blinked, then blinked again. When nothing else was forthcoming, she said, “What else?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.”

“‘Don’t worry’? Are you serious?”

He rubbed his chin, and a faint, unpleasant creaking filled the room. “Well, as a bit of personal advice, I’ll add that you should stick close to your friends unless the situation absolutely calls for it.”

She almost snorted. “I think ‘get out of a time loop that’s killing you’ counts as calling for it.”

“Yes,” he said dryly. “Because that worked so well this time.” When her ears drooped, he added, “You might not believe this, but right now friendship is all you have. Don’t let that be taken away, too.”

“Please, Mr. … whoever you are. Can’t you be more specific?”

“There’s no time. Sorry.” His eyes roamed over toward the clock on the wall, then to the window, and he bit his lip. “3:06. If I don’t act now, all of this will be set in stone. Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” His face fell. With a little concentration, he cast his horn in a blue glow, hardly sputtering the way it had before. “Well, in any case, we have to set things right. Pinkie, I’m very sorry. I want you to know that before we meet again.”

And he snapped her neck.

∞

“Oh, my! You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

The muffins steamed. The building stood. The clock read 3:14.

Pinkie stared. She rolled her head around, testing and then savoring the sturdiness of her spine. Then, slowly, her face broke out in a fragile smile. “W-what the hay just happened?”

“Pinkie? Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Wow, um. Everything just reset itself already? Would it have not reset if he hadn’t killed me?” Would that have been so bad, though?

“Pinkie, do you need to lie down?”

“Can’t do that, Mrs. Cake! I need to bring some ponies together.” She rubbed her chin. “And maybe a little something on the side …” And, mulling over the bizarre advice she'd been granted, she tried to distract herself from the horrible, horrible implications of being deliberately killed by someone — or something — that looked like a pony.

Who Wouldn't Want to Kill You, Pinkie?

The streets of Canterlot were quiet at this hour. Their train had gotten in late, so Pinkie and Trixie made their way along softly lit sidewalks, the latter looking upon her surroundings with a passing familiarity, the former biting her lip every so often at the thought of being apart from her friends.

“It’s two days at most!” she’d assured them, and she’d repeated it to make sure they’d gotten the message. They’d nodded and continued on with cleaning up Ponyville after the Ursa attack — while the damage wasn’t anywhere near as serious as that of the previous loop, there were still a few buildings that had been banged up here and there. Pinkie had promised a party for when they’d finished, so they’d found it in themselves to whistle while they worked.

Fluttershy had politely declined the invitation to go with the two ponies to Canterlot, quietly but firmly making it clear that she would rather not rebuild that particular bridge just yet. Though Pinkie had thought about pressing the matter harder, she’d backed down upon remembering that stuffed bear head. If Granny Pie were still alive and invited her over, she wouldn’t have been pleased if there’d been balloons made of gross stuff floating around in the kitchen.

“I’m curious.” Trixie cast Pinkie a glance as they approached Double Whammy’s dilapidated house. “What inspired you to accompany me on this trip?”

“It’s because I’m curious too.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because your grandpa might not be your grandpa.”

Trixie stared.

“Ahem.” Pinkie knocked on the door. “Just something I have to look into.”

“But why you? I didn’t even see you at the show.”

“Why me, indeed.” Pinkie’s ear twitched, and she scratched it absentmindedly. “That sure is the relevant question here …”

From inside, uneven hoofsteps approached the door. There was a creak, and then Double Whammy peered at them. “Eh? Trixie! Good mornin’ t’ ya!”

“It’s evening, actually.” Trixie coughed. “But it’s certainly nice to see you.”

“Eh, it’s always one ‘r the other.” Double Whammy patted her on the head, then looked to Pinkie, who held her breath. Watery yellow eyes regarded her. “Whoozis? Friend from magic kindergart’n?”

“This is Pinkie Pie, Grandpa. She … tagged along.”

“‘S long ‘s yer not draggin’ her ‘round after pigeons!” He cackled as his granddaughter blushed. “Ya love them birds, don’tcha?”

“Mhm.”

Pinkie’s eyes darted from side to side. “Okay. I’d better go. I have a party to plan … and attend … and crash ... so I’ll leave you two to it, then.” And she started to leave.

“Pinkie!” Trixie called. Her hoof was on her grandpa’s shoulder, and her gaze looked a tad softer. “... Thank you.”

They smiled. Then, after raising a hoof in a knowing salute, Pinkie bounced off, nimbly avoiding the obstacles in her way.

A long walk later, she’d boarded the next train south, considering recent events as she curled up in a ball on her seat. She was glad to help Trixie, even if she’d accidentally killed her in a time that could have been. It hadn’t technically happened, and even when it did happen, it was probably an accident and Trixie seemed to have regretted it. It was all water under the temporal bridge.

More pressing, at least for now, was the issue of Double Whammy … or rather, the entity who claimed not to be him. There was no sign of the entity in the old unicorn’s face. Last loop, the entity had shown up immediately upon Double Whammy catching sight of her. This time, the old unicorn had only acted like himself.

Is it a one-time thing? No, that seemed unlikely. The entity had mentioned telling her more of its message later, so it probably foresaw a later meeting. But if that was the case, why didn’t it show up again? Was it simply unable to use Double Whammy a second time? If so, where was it now?

Trying to factor the loops themselves into the equation, with all its questions of whether the entity could use Double Whammy up to a certain loop, only served to make her head hurt more. No wonder chronomancy wasn’t widely practiced anymore, if time magic dragged along such a trail of could’ves and should’ves and meanwhiles and never-weres.

The moon was high by the time the train pulled into the station. Groggily, she disembarked, then dragged her hooves along the streets toward Sugarcube Corner, stifling a yawn as a departing whistle trilled behind her. Quiet settled over Ponyville like a blanket, quiet save for Pinkie herself, who was looking forward to meeting up with her friends … though not before getting a good night’s sleep, she determined. A trip to Canterlot and back in one day would tire anypony, even if it wasn’t that far off.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She looked around, seeing no sign of equine movement. At most, a candle might flicker in a solitary window, or an owl might swoop softly across the stars …

And then, turning a corner, she caught sight of a faint ray of lamplight leaning across the ground. Following it toward a lone cottage, she peeked in the half-open door to catch a glimpse of a stallion moving briskly from contraption to strange contraption, taking copious notes. He seemed vaguely familiar, and she watched for a moment as he muttered to himself, before losing interest and resuming the walk to Sugarcube Corner.

Her room welcomed her, soft and pink. Gummy, curled up in his basket, watched unblinkingly as she beelined for her bed, sinking instantly into sweet slumber.

In the light of day, it was much easier to see the improvements that had been made. Between earth pony ingenuity, unicorn tricks, and copious weather rescheduling by the pegasi, the damaged buildings were almost as good as new. It was as if the giant bear baby from outer space had never come to town at all.

Pinkie took comfort in knowing that everything was going much better than in the previous loop, but she still watched her own steps carefully, and only rarely stayed in one place for more than a few minutes for fear of falling anvils. She was careful to throw parties over the next couple days, careful to keep her friends bonded and happy. With every amiable word from Twilight, every neighborly gesture from Applejack, she found her fear waning (though not her caution). Everything was going fine.

Then the griffon showed up.

It was a bright and sunny day, the kind that practically begged things to go wrong, and Pinkie was skipping across town in search of Thunderlane (whose party advice, while a little lacking, was appreciated nonetheless), when she was brought to a sudden halt at the sound of somepony sniffling. She looked around, slowly realizing that it was coming from above. The long pink tail hanging from the cloud just overhead was a big giveaway.

“Fluttershy?” she called, standing on tiptoes. “What are you doing up there?”

The sniffling stopped. A yellow muzzle poked down through the fluff to meet Pinkie’s gaze. “I’m, um, just … having a moment. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for crying! That’s dumb.” Pinkie winced and looked around, but if anypony had heard, they didn’t show it. “Well, you know what I mean. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”

“But … isn’t that what they say when—”

“Why don’t I take you to Sugarcube Corner and get you a milkshake? My treat.”

Fluttershy’s ears perked, and she gracefully descended from her perch. “I’d like that.”

Luckily, Sugarcube Corner wasn’t particularly crowded at this time of day. They found a table by a window, where they could watch passersby go about their day. Fluttershy was looking out with a distracted look on her face, sipping at sweet vanilla. Pinkie, on the other hoof, was taking a moment to enjoy the taste of something — on a whim, she’d asked Mrs. Cake to “surprise her.” The sunset-orange mixture made her tongue tingle with a sugary buzz.

“I just want to be nice,” Fluttershy said suddenly. She blinked, and her eyes shone. “Why won’t she let me?”

Pinkie smiled sweetly. “What do you mean?”

“Rainbow Dash’s old friend from Junior Speedsters came to Ponyville. I met her — Gilda — in flight camp.” Fluttershy glanced around, as if this friend might be hiding within earshot. “I don’t think we hit it off all that well.”

“So she’s mad at you for living where your friend lives.”

“She might be. I’ve just kind of been staying out of her way as much as I can, and she hasn’t gone out of her way to pick on me.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Um, that’s the thing.” Fluttershy’s hooves tentatively clicked together. “Rainbow Dash told me to stay out of their way—”

Pinkie’s eyes and cheeks bulged.

“—please-don’t-be-mad-at-her.” There was a dainty sound that might have been mistaken for a laugh. “She says I ‘bring up bad memories’ for Gilda. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s no reason for her to be rude!”

“She wasn’t actually rude; she just wanted to avoid any fighting. I think she wants Gilda to be comfortable. It’s very sweet of her, really.”

Pinkie tried to wrap her mind around the concept of somepony finding it sweet that she was brushed off for another friend, and failed. “But it bothered you, didn’t it? You were crying earlier.”

“Oh, that.” Fluttershy stirred her milkshake awkwardly. “I was, um, just letting out some stress. Angel has been a little temperamental lately.”

“Have you brought this up with—”

“With Rainbow? Oh, I couldn’t. She can get just a teensy bit defensive at times. I don’t want to bother her.” Big eyes persuaded for a favor. “Um … could you, maybe, promise not to mention this around her?”

Pinkie saluted. “Not a word to Dash. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Eep!” Fluttershy tried to hide behind her milkshake. Then she caught herself. “Um, that’s just a little morbid, but thank you.”

They talked of smaller things then, leaving the matter of Dash and Gilda behind them. But when Fluttershy took her leave, obliviously returning Pinkie’s wave, Pinkie’s train of thought turned right around and picked the matter up again.

“It’s a good thing Fluttershy is so sweet and innocent,” Pinkie said happily. “Because I’ve got a bone to pick with a certain griffon. She isn’t luring Dash away from Ponyville on my watch!”

It wasn’t so hard to find them. Pinkie hummed a little ditty, letting her tingling hooves carry her wherever they would, never minding the curious stares of the Ponyville residents as they paused in their daily duties to watch her trot along. If only they knew about the griffon. She flashed a smile at every familiar face, though her mind was intent on getting to the bottom of this. Where are they, anyway? You’d think Dash’s friend’d be someone who likes attention.

Some ways past the outskirts of Ponyville, she caught sight of several tiny puddles scattered in the grass. Her first thought was to tell Applejack that her dog was out of control, but only a moment passed before she’d determined that this water was clean, even fresh. It took another moment before she realized that she’d found this out by sniffing the puddles, to which she hastily backtracked before getting a hold of herself, wondering if this was how Rarity felt all the time.

Not like it matters. The water’s clean, right? No harm done.

Still, it was a confused Pinkie who climbed to the top of a gentle hill, only to dive into a bush upon seeing that she wasn’t alone. Before her stood the edge of Whitetail Wood, where a green field had settled long ago; before her flew a pair of swift shapes, the leader a familiar blue, the trailing figure a less familiar brown and white. As she watched, the fliers raced each other across the sky, bobbing and weaving around the clouds floating lazily in the summer blue. One bumped the other with her shoulder, sending her reeling momentarily before she righted herself and caught up again. Their laughter echoed against the wall of watchful trees.

Pinkie bit her lip. It didn’t look like Gilda was plotting anything, but undoubtedly, with this lighthearted fun clouding her judgment, Dash could be easily persuaded to leave Ponyville. Pinkie needed to do something, and sooner rather than later, before the bond between bearers could crack.

Dash sped toward a cloud, never slowing, and kicked it hard enough to propel herself in a new direction, while the cloud itself burst into air and water. Gilda, unprepared for the sudden change in flight, flapped her wings furiously in hopes of accelerating elsewhere. From a cloud not far away, Dash snickered to herself, and the griffon, though grumbling a little, perched at her side for a rest.

“She is so devious,” Pinkie muttered to herself. “Very sneaky. I do declare, that is the sneakiest griffon I ever laid eyes on! I wonder what her excuse is.” Then she refocused, seeing that something was happening.

Dash’s ears were perked, and Gilda’s claws clenched. Both stared in her direction, and Pinkie shrank a little further into the bush. Soon, though, a flutter of wings assured her that the center of attention was on some other arrival. Swooping forward, Gilda approached the gray newcomer with raised hackles, while Dash darted in as an intercessor, hooves outstretched to keep them separate. At this, Gilda drew back a little, still angry but also — could it be? — a little afraid.

All this Pinkie saw in the space of a second. Then, with characteristic suddenness, something heavy bashed her in the head, hard enough that her ringing ears caught a sound like a crack. Her eyes spun, failing to find focus as blood dribbled into her vision, though she did notice that she was surrounded by flower petals and dish shards. She stared at these stupidly, hardly registering the cries of distress above.

“Oh no,” she tried to say, but the numbness in her face spread to the rest of her body and overwhelmed her brain before she could even think to finish with “not again.”

∞

Pinkie chewed a cupcake thoughtfully. Around her, old new friends enjoyed themselves as Twilight Sparkle grumbled upstairs, while the Mare in the Moon glared through an open window.

It occurred to her that, for all she was learning about pony nature, she didn’t know the first thing about how griffons worked. Gilda sure seemed scary, with her sharp beak and savage claws, but her predatory nature seemed at odds with the ease she showed around Dash. Not to mention the look she’d shown when that other pony had come along. From what Pinkie could tell, Gilda had every reason to be perfectly confident — and yet, she wasn’t.

If she was going to keep her friends together, she’d have to deal with the problem at its source.

Swallowing the mouthful of cupcake, Pinkie made her decision.

Just Choose Not to Choose

This time, as Gilda approached from the distant east, Pinkie was ready. Most of Ponyville was still drowsing at this hour, but Pinkie was up bright and early, having taken the time to set things up. She shielded her eyes with a hoof, squinting against the blinding dawn sun, and made out the shape of the familiar feathered fiend ... soon to be a familiar feathered friend, if all went to plan. Pinkie doubted this would be the case, knowing that she could yet again get easily killed for some arbitrary reason, but it never hurt to have a little optimism.

As she’d hoped, the griffon faltered in her flight, then angled downward at a pace not unlike somepony dragging her hooves. (“Dragging her wings”? Pinkie wondered if there was a whole cornucopia of alternate idioms for different species, silly though the idea might be.) Gilda touched down tentatively, though her wings pumped impressively in a show of supposed dominance.

Here it comes. Pinkie plastered on a winning smile.

Golden hawk eyes narrowed as Gilda sized her up. “... Yeah?”

“Good morning!” Pinkie chirped. “On behalf of all Ponyville, I welcome you to the coziest little town on this side of Everfree!” She waved a hoof at the tables. “Hungry?”

“Eh.” Gilda glanced lazily at the treats on display there ... then did a double take. Piles and piles of muffins sat stacked on an enormous tray, surrounded by fruit of all shapes and sizes. A banner repeated Pinkie’s welcome in loopy hoofwriting. “What the?!”

“I did a little research.” Pinkie hoped she wasn’t sounding braggy. “I figured you’d like something to nibble on after a super-long trip from Griffonstone. Nothing too rich or sweet, though.”

Gilda leaned tentatively forward, poking an apple with a noticeably sharp claw. Her gaze took in the sight again, more slowly this time. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly to take in the scent of slightly warm muffins. “You did this for ...?” She shook herself, twisting her beak in a scowl. “How’d you know I was coming? I didn’t tell anyone!”

“I have my ways.” Pinkie tapped her head in feigned wisdom. “I know Dash will be super excited to see you! But she’s still asleep, so maybe we should wait until she wakes up.”

Feathers ruffled as the griffon gave her a suspicious sidelong glance. Reluctantly, Gilda plucked the apple from its perch, gave it a long sniff, and downed it in one snap of her beak. “I guess I could chow down a little.”

Fifteen muffins and eight apples later, Gilda seemed to be letting her guard down. She listened, albeit with a heaping tablespoon of skepticism, as Pinkie chattered inanely about the goings-on of Ponyville. A feathered eyebrow rose a little more with every odd little story Pinkie could come up with.

“—and that’s why Dash and I aren’t allowed to tell scary stories at Twilight’s sleepovers ever again.” Pinkie swept her hooves in a flourishing ta-da gesture. Then she cracked a grin as Gilda struggled to conceal her snickering. "Dash is a silly filly sometimes."

"Heh, that's for sure." Gilda blinked, then coughed. "So, uh ... Pinkie, I think you said your name was? Do you do this for anyone who comes to town?"

"Sometimes." Now that she thought of it, maybe that could nip the Trixie thing in the bud before bears started happening. "I figured you'd want something a little quieter than what I usually do." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ponies are pretty jumpy."

"Isn't that the truth." Gilda managed a grin of her own. "You know, you're not as bad as I thought at first. Once you look past the pink fluff and stuff, you're all right."

"Thanks. I think." Pinkie flipped her bangs in a cool-kid kind of way. "But what about you? Any weird stories in your super-cool life?"

"Pshyeah." Leaning back, Gilda launched into a memory with a sharp gesture. "So this one time, at flight camp ..."

Loop Zero

Happiness, Pinkie decided, was a day of baked goods cycling in and out the ovens. It was the fresh batch of muffins she had just pulled out, carefully placing the tray on a wire rack next to all the others. It was the way the muffins were carefully set apart from the cupcakes, which bore a healthy golden gleam as steam rose from the delicate cracks in their surfaces. It was the smell of cake and frosting, carefully yet quickly brought together by the capital-C Cakes as they applied tasteful decorations in pastel colors. It was the ability to look out the open window, at any given moment, and see ponies outside prepare for the celebration tomorrow.

In short, happiness was a comfortable rhythm, as easy and delicious as breathing.

She paused at the thought. That had a certain poetry to it, she mused, making a mental note to jot that down later. The thought was relegated to a back burner, where it warmed and simmered as she swapped a raw batch of cookies with a baked batch. Once the oven was closed, she set an exhausted timer to ring in a quarter of an hour, then prepared to continue on with her tasks.

Her eyes swept the countertop for more treats ready for the oven, but they only met an empty surface. Was that it? That couldn’t be it. She couldn’t have been doing this for more than a couple hours. Yet when she looked to the clock, which hung contentedly on the far wall, it proved her wrong; its hour hand was settled directly below a bold pink three.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Cake stood in the doorway with her namesake balanced on her back, taking in the sight of the cooling desserts. “You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

Pinkie’s smile was sheepish. “Just getting things done, Mrs. Cake.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Why, I think there’s even more here than we needed to have done for the Summer Sun Celebration!” Mrs. Cake smiled and gingerly set her pastry on a table. “I think that should be enough for today, don’t you? Why don’t you go out and about while Carrot and I do the dishes?”

“Oh, I couldn’t let you do all that. I made this mess, so I’ve gotta clean it up. Let me take care of it.”

“Are you sure? It might do you good to talk to ponies.”

Pinkie shook her head. “Ponies are fun in small doses, just like parties. It’s important to make the good times extra special, and that means letting there be average times more often.”

“If you say so.” Mrs. Cake had raised an eyebrow, but she left the room without pressing the issue.

The sink was piled high with mixing bowls. Pinkie made sure to move most of these to the empty countertop, then turned her attention to those remaining. Soon hot water and soap were added, and she began to scrub at the dried batter with deliberate movements. A simple tune wafted from the working mare as her hooves worked, and bubbles foamed within at a manageable level.

Every now and then, she would look up and see ponies pass by. The afternoon sun seemed to soften the lane, muffling the crunching of hoofsteps. Most of them drew a spark of recognition to her eye, though she couldn’t think of their names. At one point a stranger walked past, accompanied by a stout baby dragon who gestured at their surroundings with clear enthusiasm. The stranger seemed unconvinced, and the two vanished from sight without incident. Pinkie shrugged and went back to her work.

When the dishes were all dried and put away, she set cookies on plates, cakes on platters, and so prepared the food for feasting. The Cakes cheerfully began the arduous task of carrying everything to Town Hall, and Pinkie was quick to aid them despite their protests. Outside, ponies paused in their chatter to send appreciative looks her way. Pinkie smiled a little, not sure whether their appreciation was for her or for the desserts she carried, and continued on her way.

Town Square was crossed many times, back and forth, before the task was finished. In Town Hall, decorations spanned hither and thither, boasting vibrant colors and favorable depictions of the princess. The decorator was nowhere to be seen, but Pinkie didn't mind. Outside of the lack of balloons, she had no objections.

Night fell as Pinkie made her way back to Sugarcube Corner. The streets were oddly quiet; as she walked along, she only came across a group of more strangers. These laughed and gossiped among themselves, something to do with apples. Pinkie said nothing as they passed her, instead focusing on the approaching shape of the bakery.

Once inside, she made her way upstairs and into her room. As she flipped on the light, it was easy to tell that the room was a simple place, with soft pinks coloring the unassuming arrangement of bed, dresser, and chest. A little basket caught her eye … or, more specifically, the green shape curled up inside the basket. A scaly snout tilted slightly upward as she approached, and thin-slitted purple eyes followed suit.

“Hi Gummy,” she said, patting his head. “You've been good today, right?”

Gummy’s toothless jaws snapped in reply.

“Of course you were.”

She smiled and moved to the dresser, where an unremarkable book lay. She picked it up, cradled it to her chest, and — after looking left, looking right, and looking behind — danced in place, unable to keep a tiny squeal of glee from escaping. Gummy looked on, blinking one eye at a time.

With subdued strength, Pinkie bounded onto her bed, laying on the blanket with her stomach down. Pink hooves flipped to the pages separated by a bookmark, decorated with the name “Maud” in simple, stark mouthwriting. With that, she began to read, delving into a thorough, if dense, discussion on rocks.

The night wore on. Pinkie could faintly hear the sounds of ponies ebb and recede, but she was too focused on her book to pay much attention. Besides, the little growling snores Gummy made were far more adorable.

She had just reached a section on the composition of sedimentary rocks when an almighty crash jolted her back to reality. Her ears perked, and she slowly set the book down. “Did that come from downstairs …?”

Hoofsteps pounded, soon reaching her door, and Mr. Cake burst inside without so much as knocking. “Pinkie!” he exclaimed, as loudly as he could without actually raising his voice. “Come with me. Hurry!”

Pinkie blinked as, with a flick of the switch, the room was cast into darkness. “What’s wrong?”

“No time to argue. We’re going to the basement. Now!”

Something in his voice made her follow, though she picked up Gummy before following her employer. The little alligator clung to her back as they descended the stairs.

Once on the main floor, Mr. Cake led her around to the trapdoor leading to the basement. As he fumbled to open it, she wandered over to the window, wondering what could have him so disturbed.

Outside, the moon and stars shone down on thatched roofs, casting shadows that bent at strange angles. She frowned, unsure as to what was so urgent, when a mare galloped past close enough for her to touch. Pinkie nearly leapt back at the sudden sight, and it was only with a deep breath that she managed to refocus on the night beyond the glass. Something was off, though she couldn’t put her hoof on it.

Then she looked to the sky, and it became clear. The moon was empty.

Her breath caught in her throat. She could remember quiet nights at the rock farm back home, gazing up at the shadowed craters in the moon’s surface. The Mare in the Moon, the stories said. A lonely mare, wishing for companionship and attention, twisted into a creature that sought to shape the world in her own image. Little Pinkie would watch as the marked moon gleamed with a light beyond anything the stars could summon, and, while surrounded by sleeping sisters, she would ponder on what could drive a pony to do such terrible things.

This could not have been the same moon. Its light was too bright, too cold. It was a massive blank eye hanging above silver wisps of clouds, watching across countless thousands of miles to train itself directly on Ponyville … staring, impossibly, right back at her.

“Pinkie, get away from there!” Mr. Cake had lifted the trapdoor as much as his thin arms would allow. “You don’t want to be seen.”

Shaking herself, she quietly made her way down, down the thin, straight flight of stairs. Above, she heard the soft scraping of a carpet sliding over the trapdoor, and with a gentle cloud of dust everything was cast into near-darkness.

Past the foot of the stairs, the warm glow of a lantern illuminated the basement. Sacks of flour and sugar were stacked along one wall, while boxes of other ingredients further constricted the space of the room. Already inside, Mrs. Cake rubbed her hooves anxiously, watching as Pinkie made her way down to meet her, followed closely by Mr. Cake.

“What’s going on?” Pinkie asked. “Does this have to do with the moon?”

“Ssh!” the others chorused. They looked around, as if something had followed them, before settling down. Pinkie followed suit, uncertain.

“It does,” Mrs. Cake said. “We were at the celebration, helping everypony with refreshments and waiting for the morning—”

“The princess was supposed to be there,” Mr. Cake added. “What could go wrong with her around?”

“But she wasn't there. Instead …” Mrs. Cake swallowed. “Nightmare Moon appeared. Straight from the moon, it seems. Nightmare Moon herself! Ranting and laughing like a madmare, all while the sun wouldn’t rise. Or couldn’t, is more likely. Everything about her was so cold …”

“Nightmare Moon? That’s just an old mare’s tale.” But even as Pinkie said it, her words rang hollow. How else could one explain the empty moon? She might not know much about their magics, but she didn’t believe it was a trick any unicorn or pegasus could pull off.

Her employers shared a sad, frightened look. Above, where the trapdoor lay out of sight, she thought she could hear the scuffing of armored hooves against a tiled floor. When she listened harder, however, only silence greeted her.

“She said, ‘The night will last forever.’” Mrs. Cake’s voice was barely a whisper. “Who knows what that will do. Will ponies be her slaves? We can’t let that happen to us.”

“No,” Pinkie agreed, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as a chill settled. Gummy curled up beneath her mane. “Whatever this is, we’re going to have to wait this out.”

So they waited. Nopony had brought a clock, so every second dragged the slow corpse of hours through the dark. Mrs. Cake was able to mix some oil, flour, and sugar into a slimy dough-like substance, dipping into their stores to help them survive. Besides the cursory offerings of food, there was no talking.

Time passed. The lantern went out. The air grew stale, and the cold weighed heavier and heavier on the hiding ponies and alligator. Even with food, Pinkie could barely muster up the energy to wander from one corner of the basement to the other.

Time passed. The mares grew increasingly aware of Mr. Cake’s new habit. The clicking of teeth grew duller and duller as countless hours wore on. The rhythm was occasionally punctuated with a sniff from Mrs. Cake.

Time passed. Mr. Cake broke the silence with a cough. “Maybe Princess Celestia’s come back and beaten her.”

“What if she hasn’t?” Pinkie couldn’t tell if she had posed the question, or if it had been Mrs. Cake.

“We can’t wait down here forever. I’ll see if it’s safe to come out.”

He got to his hooves, shaking. With a foal’s hesitant steps, he pulled himself up the stairs, and soon he was lost to even their dark-adjusted eyes.

The trapdoor scraped open, and white light cut across their vision despite the distance. The mares squeezed their eyes shut, though flashes of afterimages were seared into their brains. It was not enough, however, to distract them from the gentle thud of the trapdoor shutting, and everything was cast into blessed darkness once more.

“... Carrot?” Mrs. Cake’s voice was hoarse. “What’s out there?”

There was no reply.

Pinkie coughed, making a sound like rolling gravel. “I don’t hear his hoofsteps.”

“Carrot?” A little louder this time. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Only silence answered.

“It must be really great out there.” Pinkie laughed weakly. “For him to not be letting us know it’s okay up there, I mean. He’s probably already baking things for the ‘Hooray Princess Celestia’ party.”

“You’re right. It must be safe by now. He’s distracted. That’s why he’s not answering.”

Neither of them moved. The trapdoor didn’t open again.

Time passed. The two huddled together for warmth, but frost still crept over their shivering forms. Pinkie had brought Gummy close against her chest, but he didn’t move.

“Mrs. Cake,” Pinkie eventually whispered, “I’m gonna see what’s up there.”

But her hooves wouldn’t move. She could barely feel them, and when she shakily lowered her muzzle to nudge them, they were so stiff that she worried they would snap. That shrinking part of her brain that could worry, though, slipped entirely into dim awareness.

So she wasted away, in the cold, and the dark, and the silence. Her thoughts drifted and dissolved into a dreamless sleep, and as hours upon hours passed, the sleep dissolved further.

∞

Muffins filled her vision. Muffins, cupcakes, cookies, and other baked goods, bolstered on the heated air of the ovens and summer sun.

Pinkie blinked. Slowly, her brain began to warm, and she remembered what had just happened. Carefully, she closed the oven, set the oven mitt aside, and curled up into a ball on the floor.

“Oh my! You’ve certainly been ...” Mrs. Cake’s voice trailed off. “Pinkie? Dear, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t stop shivering long enough to speak.

“Did something happen?” Warm hooves wrapped around her body. “Talk to me.”

“It was a horrible dream … or something,” Pinkie mumbled. It felt so strange to feel all of her limbs again. “Nightmare M-Moon came down and froze everything. Mr. Cake left. Gummy. So c-cold …”

“Shhh.” Mrs. Cake rocked her gently, waving a curious Mr. Cake away. “Everything’s all right. Nightmare Moon is just an old pony’s tale.”

“I know that.” Pinkie sniffled. “It just felt so real.”

Mrs. Cake kissed her forehead. “But it wasn’t. You’re safe.”

They sat there for a long time, long enough for the treats to begin to cool. But Pinkie, comforted in Mrs. Cake’s embrace, was blissfully warmed.

Whatever it was, be it daydream or hallucination, it was all over. She was safe.

Everything was going to be fine.

That's What You Think

It was the kind of bright and sunny afternoon that almost made Pinkie want to go outside, running and shaking ponies to let them know she was alive. Nevertheless, she found herself trudging up the stairs to her room, which held the comfortable warmth of accumulated sunlight. In the patch of light beneath the window stood Gummy, who blinked in his usual cheerful way at his owner’s approach.

“Gummy, I love you,” Pinkie gushed, seizing him and hugging him tight. The movement jostled the blanket that was draped over her back, but she grabbed it before it could fall and wrapped him in its cloth embrace. “I hope you never freeze to death.”

Gummy blinked in agreement.

Outside, ponies were happily going about their lives. Foals darted about in small herds, glad to be enjoying the summer freedom; their parents haggled and bartered in the marketplace, smiling and greeting with friends as they passed by. Even though she didn’t know everypony personally, Pinkie found herself smiling at the sight of all the familiar faces below.

Then a unicorn made her way across Town Square, accompanied by a baby dragon.

Pinkie’s heart nearly stopped. Her limbs locked in place, and she was forced to watch as the two strangers made their way into Town Hall. She sputtered, shuddered, and whinnied, not necessarily in that order.

When she finally managed to find her voice, it was strangled and halting. “But that’s … I’ve only ever … they were in my dream. How …?”

She realized that Gummy was chewing on her mane. With effort, she managed to shake off the horror that threatened to swallow her. Gummy, however, was allowed to stay where he was.

“It’s a coincidence,” she told herself, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage. “That’s what it is. Ponies can look like other ponies, can’t they? Really, odds were pretty good that one would match one in my dream. It has to be that.”

She turned away from the window and began to pace. “But what about the baby dragon? You don’t see those in Equestria every day. At least, not that I know of. How am I supposed to explain that? The exact same baby dragon.”

Coming to a stop, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Gummy, clamped onto her puffy pink forelock, swung in a lazy arc. “Maybe I’m still in a dream. I could be having ideas that keep echoing through my subconscious. A dream within a dream? It’s crazy, but it could happen.”

Hooves clip-clopped as she paced again. “Yeah, but how do I know there’s only two layers to the dream? I could be in a coma or something, and the Cakes are trying to wake me up, but every time they try I could be bumped up a level. Like digging out from the center of an onion. It could be ages before I come back. And if I’m only on the second-to-last layer, I could be doing this for a while. Still, at least it makes sense. Kind of.”

But her brow was furrowed. With a huff, she grabbed her book and flopped onto the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I’m gonna just ride it out. Or I could see if I get hurt, since that never happens in dreams. But that wouldn’t be healthy to just go out and do it, so ride it out it is.”

Saying such, she cracked open the book and eagerly began to lose herself in the words within.

Within seconds, however, she scowled.

“What the hay?” She gestured at the book petulantly, as if it had personally wronged her. “This says the exact same thing as it did in my dream, and I just started reading it after Maud sent it to me! I wouldn’t know the exact word order to this already, but I do! I don’t think even layered dreams can explain that!”

She shook her head, fighting irritation. Gummy, who had not let go of her mane thus far, flopped back and forth across her vision.

“Something’s up.” Pinkie kneaded at the blanket with both forehooves. “This is all happening again, one way or another. Which means Nightmare Moon is coming tonight.”

She shivered, and for a moment her limbs were weighed with a tinge of numbness. “She has to be stopped. But how are you supposed to face a monster and win? The old mares’ tales said she was defeated the first time by … what was it, a rainbow laser? Maybe I should figure out what that is, exactly.”

There was a pause. Then her eyes lit up.

“Of course! The library probably has some answers. Maybe I can find the old story and figure out how to get out of this trap thing!”

Saying such, she depositing Gummy onto the bed and left the room. For the first time that day, she didn’t wince at the slightest chill of a breeze.

Outside, ponies chattered and laughed under a sunlit sky. For a moment, Pinkie could almost believe that she had imagined Nightmare Moon really was just an old story, and that summer would continue on as happily and healthily as it ever did.

Then she remembered the slow agony of freezing to death, and the illusion faded. She snorted, shivering despite the comfortable heat, and reminded herself that here and now she was alive.

Golden Oaks Library soon loomed before her, and she paused to take in the sight of the unusual building. While she had certainly seen it in passing over the last few years, she couldn’t remember having actually gone in more than once or twice. It seemed taller and broader than she’d thought, boasting more importance than Sugarcube Corner … She shook herself and entered the living tree. Now wasn’t the time to forget about Nightmare Moon.

Inside the library, it was clean and quiet. She noted a stairway leading up to the residential living space. As far as she knew, nopony had lived here in a while, but she still kept quiet as she approached the nearest bookshelves. It was a library, after all.

She read the spines on the first shelf and frowned. “Are these even organized?” She pulled the first one and flipped through the pages, skimming for the words Nightmare or moon. Then she started at the beginning again, moving slower this time before eventually setting it aside. Her eyebrow rose as she lifted another. “By title, I guess. Who even did this? It’s horrible for casual browsing.”

The process continued for a while, and Pinkie saw no success. The words swam before her eyes, and she could feel her brain slow under the strain of the constant searching. Every time she began to set the books aside completely, however, she thought of the cold and the dark, and so she kept on reading.

“Oh, I, um … didn’t know somepony was already here.”

Pinkie stiffened, and for a moment darkness flickered across her vision. “Nngh …?”

When she looked around, however, she saw perhaps the furthest possible pony from Nightmare Moon. It was that one pegasus who occasionally came into town for supplies, Pinkie knew … but the baby dragon cradled in her hooves was what drew her attention faster.

“Look, I appreciate a good listener as much as the next guy,” the dragon was saying, wriggling free and dropping to the ground without so much as a wince. “But don’t you think it’s a little early to be heading to bed?”

“Oh, of course it’s not too early, Spike,” the pegasus crooned. She pinched his chubby cheeks gleefully. “You want to see the sun come up tomorrow morning, right? It’s important to get plenty of sleep in between now and then.”

“I can stay up all night! Twilight lets me every New Year’s!” He looked out the open door. “Right, Twilight? Last year was a fluke.”

“Might as well,” a unicorn grumbled, stepping into sight. Pinkie recognized the frazzled stranger immediately: purple coat, striped purple mane, starburst cutie mark. “All these crazy ponies’ll keep us up all night anyway …”

Her words trailed off as her eyes swept over Pinkie, who waved.

“Very … pink,” the unicorn managed to say. “Let me guess: your name is Pinkie or something like that?”

Pinkie gasped. “How did you know? Is it happening to you too?”

The unicorn started to speak again, but then seemed to think better of it. She rubbed her forehead instead. “Five for five,” she said. “Okay then. Are you a librarian here?”

“More like a baker-slash-party-thrower,” Pinkie corrected. “I don’t actually come here that often. I’m just looking for stuff on Nightmare Moon, and I—”

There was a rush of air, and Pinkie’s vision was suddenly filled with purple. “Nightmare Moon?!” the unicorn nearly shouted, eyes wide. “Do you know if she’s coming back tonight?”

Pinkie wondered if she should stop feeling so gleeful at the confirmation that a horse of the apocalypse was returning. “Of course she is! I had a dream or something and she invaded and everything froze to death. But now it’s happening again because I saw you that other time before it happened, and I have to figure out how to stop her!”

The unicorn blinked. Farther off, Spike and the pegasus exchanged glances.

“... Good enough,” the unicorn said. She extended a hoof, and they shook. “I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

“I’m Pinkie Pie. But what do you know about Nightmare Moon?”

“I read an old book this morning about prophecies.” Twilight began to pace. “‘On the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape.’ That should be tomorrow … -ish. But Princess Celestia instructed me to come here and oversee preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Pinkie stared. “And I thought my story would be hard to swallow.”

“Look, if you don’t believe me … I don’t know, I’ll recite Star Swirl the Bearded at you. The point is, we’re the only two ponies in all of Equestria who know that Nightmare Moon is coming back, and we have to do something about it! Even if one of us is making pretty strange claims.”

“I …” Pinkie thought of the cold and the dark. “Okay. There has to be something in one of these books. I mean, Golden Oaks probably isn’t as extensive as the libraries you’re used to … in Canterlot … but there has to be something.”

Twilight nodded. Then she remembered that they were not alone. “Spike, why don’t you and Butterfly go out and see the market? They must be selling some interesting things, and we really need to look for books here.”

“Really?” The dragon’s eyes lit up, and he chattered excitedly over the pegasus’s mumbled correction. “You’d let me go out by myself and possibly get lost in a town we’ve never been to before? This is possibly the best day of my life!”

“I trust you to have a sense of direction. You’re not a baby anymore.” There was a pause. “Well, you are, but that’s not the point. Go out and … I don’t know, have fun?”

A rush of air through the open door was her only answer.

Twilight smiled at the dragon’s antics. Her smile faded, however, when she realized that the pegasus was still there. “Shouldn’t you keep an eye on him or something?”

“I don’t really like the marketplace.” A curtain of soft pink mane obscured the pegasus’s face. “It’s too full of ponies. Even with a baby dragon, it wouldn’t be very fun.”

“That’s okay!” Pinkie grinned. “You can help us look for the things that happen when a horrible harbinger of doom comes down to kill us all!”

“Eep!” The pegasus scampered for the door. Unfortunately, she missed entirely, slamming into the wall hard enough to send her collapsing to the floor. “That’s … even worse … ow.”

Pinkie tilted her head. “You’d think she’d be more excited that we’re doing something about it.”

“Well, we still have to get this done.” Twilight eyed the pile of books on the floor. “These are the one’s you’ve looked through? Not very respectful of them.”

“It’s a quicker visual aid to remind me that I don’t have to go back and check them.” Pinkie shivered. “And I think we have more important things to worry about than whether a few books are neat and tidy.”

“But I — they’re not ...” Twilight teetered on the edge of her hooves. Then she exhaled, a long, growling sound that made the pegasus on the floor squeak and cower. “Fine. The fate of the world narrowly beats out the order of academia.”

“Good!” Pinkie seized the next book without looking and started to skim it. “Now, I’ve mostly been looking for mentions of the Mare in the Moon herself, but really, I think anything about the moon might be a good topic to grab in case—”

“Look out!”

There wasn’t even time to turn around. The unsteadied bookshelf toppled over, and every bone broke under its weight. The last thing she heard was Twilight’s scream.

∞

“Ow.” Pinkie rubbed her head. Then she realized she was wearing an oven mitt. “Wait …”

Baked goods surrounded her. Hot air wafted from the oven’s gaping maw. The clock read 3:14.

“Don’t think about it,” she told herself, closing the oven. “Don’t think about how it crushing you into paste … even though it probably would’ve hurt less if it did, instead of just crushing you … don’t think about how you couldn’t move or breathe, even disregarding the broken spine ...”

“Oh my! You’ve certainly been productive, haven’t you?”

“I’ll say,” Pinkie thought aloud, pacing. “Dreams can be scary, but they don’t hurt. So that can’t have been a dream, which means I really did get crushed into not-paste. But I’m fine now, so that’s definitely out. Third time’s a charm, right? I’ve gotta be able to fix everything without dying horribly.”

Mrs. Cake slowly backed out of the room.

“Well, this mystery isn’t gonna solve itself.” Pinkie stood tall. “To the library!”

Once in the library, she considered the last book she had looked at, the one that had triggered the toppling bookshelf. With careful hooves she took hold of its spine, then jumped back quickly.

The shelf didn’t move.

“I’ve gotta be more careful,” she mused to herself, casting a careful eye around for any falling objects before looking to the book again. “What next, getting struck by lightning? Really.”

With that said, she continued to search through the B’s. Though she occasionally looked up to check the time, she mainly focused on finding answers.

The pile had grown to her knees by the time she heard the door swing open. With perked ears, she flipped through the last pages of the useless book about the Classical Era, more interested in the clip-clopping of hooves.

“Oh, I, um … didn’t know somepony was already here.”

“Look, I appreciate a good listener as much as the next guy. But don’t you think it’s a little early to be heading to bed?”

“It’s you!” Pinkie gasped, tossing the book aside. “Twilight! Spike! Other pony! It really is all happening again!”

The pegasus squeaked and hid behind her mane. The other two simply stared.

“... Have we met?” Twilight asked after a moment. Her brow furrowed.

“Yes. But no. Look, Nightmare Moon is coming tonight, and we need to—”

“Nightmare Moon?!” The unicorn was in her face before she could blink. “How do you know she’s coming back tonight?”

“It keeps happening. At least, I guess so. I haven’t actually seen her, but the Cakes told me she was there, and I’m guessing she’s the one who made us freeze to death.”

“... What?”

“Look, I know your name is Twilight Sparkle, and you said Princess Celestia wouldn’t listen to you when you read about Nightmare Moon and her eternal night.”

Twilight gaped. “How did you know that?”

“It happened before. And then she …” Pinkie glanced at the pegasus. “Yep, she ran into the wall again.”

“But that’s impossible! Whatever it is.” Twilight’s nose wrinkled. “You are really not making any sense.”

“That doesn’t matter right now! What matters is that Nightmare Moon is coming. We have to find something in these books about whatever stopped her last time.”

“Ergh …” Twilight twitched. “Okay. Nightmare Moon is the important thing here. But I have a lot of questions for you after this, you hear me?”

“Yes.” Under her breath, she added, “If I live that long …”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I already looked through these shelves over here; we’re doing the C section now.”

“C section?” Twilight eyed the titles, and blanched. “Why are these organized alphabetically? Are you from Neighpon or something?”

“I’m not the librarian. I’m Pinkie Pie. Now read!”

So they did.

“I’m … just gonna go outside,” Spike said, tiptoeing out of the library. Not quite under his breath, he added, “Crazy ponies sometimes, I’m telling you …”

“Aha!”

Pinkie looked up. Her eyes flitted toward the window, and she blanched at brooding sight of the night sky. “What is it?”

“The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide.” Twilight hefted an open book in triumph. “I still can’t believe they put it under E … According to Predictions and Prophecies, the Elements of Harmony were what defeated Nightmare Moon a thousand years ago.”

“That’s strangely convenient, but I’ll take it.” Pinkie peered over Twilight’s shoulder. “So what are they?”

“Metaphysical … embodiments of virtues, it looks like?” The unicorn looked over the pages again, more carefully this time. “There are six of them: Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Honesty, Loyalty … and the sixth, which is a complete mystery. Their last known location was the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, which is in …” She trailed off, setting the book down.

Pinkie felt her skin crawl as she finished the thought. “The Everfree Forest.”

“I’ve heard of it … isn’t it right next to Ponyville? What do you know about it?”

“It’s got monsters … an enchantress, too, who comes into town every so often." Yellow eyes under a black hood, she remembered. "The weather runs itself, so it can’t be a very nice place.”

“Nice or not, that’s where the Elements are.” Twilight closed the book with a decisive thud. “I’m going to find them.”

“Alone?”

“Why not?”

“That could go wrong in so many ways.” Pinkie rubbed her hooves together, contemplating the warmth that action brought. “You should go with somepony.”

“I don’t think so. I’m kind of Princess Celestia’s pupil. I know a bit more about taking care of myself than the average unicorn.”

“I didn’t say you don’t know all that,” Pinkie reasoned. “But if you’re risking everything like that, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“... You’re not going to let up on this, are you?” Twilight huffed. “Okay. But you have to stick with me the whole way. The sooner we find the Elements, the better.”

“I hear you. What about Spike?”

“He’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

As they passed the woozy pegasus, she stirred. “Uhhh … I’d like an adorable little kitten, if that’s all right with you …” Then she passed out again.

Worst Twist Ever

“It started at a family reunion a few years ago,” Fluttershy said. “My parents could have been on better terms with my mom’s family, but they thought it’d be a good opportunity to talk to some other foals who were … aerially challenged.”

She paused to sip at her cocoa. The six of them had migrated back to the library, where she could tell her story in relative privacy. Spike was nowhere to be seen, so Twilight worked some of her student-era cooking magic to fix her friends some drinks. For their part, the other five were doing a spectacular job at pretending that they liked the pineapple flavor she had so thoughtfully added.

“It was after I’d gotten my cutie mark. We went to meet up with everypony else in Hoofington, and I was too excited. I think I may have shouted a little.” Her voice rose to a regular speaking level, as if demonstrating her point. “I couldn’t wait to show off my new cutie mark. Mom and Dad were so proud of me, even though I was still a weak flyer, so they didn’t warn me. They couldn’t have known.

“There was a barbecue when we got there. The grown-ups were talking with each other, and I went off to find some fillies and colts my age. There were a few of them playing on the lawn, so I asked if I could join in the game. I think one of them was about to say yes, but then there was a gust of air that knocked me over.

“That’s when I saw her. Trixie Lulamoon, who’d also gotten her cutie mark not too long ago. She was yelling about how she could accomplish amazing feats, like showing other ponies who was boss. I ran until I couldn’t hear them laughing anymore, but she followed me. She asked what my cutie mark represented, and when I told her, she said … she said it was ‘the dumbest cutie mark she’d ever seen.’” Fluttershy blushed at her own language. “She said real pegasi would have an eagle cutie mark o-or something like that, and that when she grew up she would be the greatest pegasus Equestria had ever seen.”

There was an audible creak as Pinkie tilted her head.

“I’m … not sure I heard you just then,” Rarity said delicately. “Are you saying that she honestly wanted to be a pegasus when she grew up?”

“That’s almost exactly what she said,” Applejack answered, deadpan. She smirked as Rarity rolled her eyes.

“She was always more interested in pegasus magic than in unicorn magic.” Fluttershy pretended to take a swig of her cocoa. “I … it’s horrible of me to say, but I think she was jealous of me. Of all of us other pegasi, really, but I was the easiest one to make fun of. The other foals were just glad it wasn’t them being picked on. I tried to take it up with her brother, Silver Shill, but he said she was just having fun. And our grandpa, Double Whammy ... well, I won't talk about him.”

“You should’ve told me about them,” said Dash, flapping her wings in a show of would-be aggression. “I would’ve shown them real pegasus magic … in the face.”

Fluttershy smiled wanly. “I’d almost forgotten about it, actually. The reunion felt like a long time, but it was really only four days. After that, my mom and dad decided their time would’ve been better spent with Dad’s side of the family, so we didn’t go back for later reunions.” She considered the floor. “I’m a little surprised Trixie remembered me after all these years.”

“Hey, you’re unforgettable, ‘Shy. And I mean that in the best way possible.” Dash patted her on the back, prompting a nuzzle.

Twilight gulped down the rest of her cocoa. “But why would she have such an interest in pegasus magic? Not that it’s a bad thing to be interested in, of course. It’s just that unicorns aren’t really adapted for flight and aeromancy, and those are the main schools of pegasus magic.”

“Maybe she just wants to be the best at everything?” Pinkie suggested. The proposition was weak, even to her own ears, but she felt like she had to say something. “Or she’s crazy. She did kill me with a balloon that one time.”

Stares met her strange remark.

“Well,” said Rarity, breaking the awkward silence, “we should probably keep her away from you, Fluttershy. Would you like to stay at the Boutique for the day? I doubt she’ll think to look for you there.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’d like that.”

After some additional words of comfort, the ponies dispersed. Pinkie watched Rarity lead Fluttershy down a quiet street, then turned back to the bookshelves and continued her reading. She had been slowly but surely been making her way through the stores of the library over the course of the loops, searching for answers that remained resolutely hidden.

“What are you looking for?” Twilight asked, shelving a few returned books. “Maybe I can help.”

“Do you know anything about time?”

“I know there are three thousand six hundred seconds in every hour. Lots of time for potential studying!” Twilight’s smile faded as Pinkie blinked. “Or did you mean something else?”

“Is there … is there time magic or something? Can you manipulate time?”

“You mean chronomancy?” Twilight rubbed her chin. “I’ve seen a few mentions of it in my classes at CGSU. But it’s not something really taken seriously, since it hasn’t been studied in hundreds of years.” She hurried to add, noting Pinkie’s crestfallen expression, “Still, there might be something about it in here. Even I haven’t been able to read all these books yet.”

“If there is, it’s not gonna be obvious.” Pinkie gestured toward a particular shelf. “I’ve already checked the C’s.”

“You did? When was this?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now, I’m up to the L’s …”

Reading with Twilight was not an unpleasant experience. Granted, the comfortable rhythm of turned pages was often disrupted by the scratch of a quill against parchment as Twilight came across passages that may or may not have had anything to do with chronomancy. But there was something comforting about the fact that somepony else was sitting comfortably just feet away, helping to search for an obscure topic without poking into the reasons why.

Even if she is interested in studying for the sake of studying, Pinkie mused, turning a page in a discussion on sloth dictatorships in the third century, it really is nice of her to do this.

“Aha!” Twilight dragged her quill as she made an enormous checkmark.

Pinkie perked up. “Did you find anything?”

“There’s a note here on how spell matrices can more easily be constructed with a simple application of ceratomancy to the cerebral cortex! I told Moondancer it didn’t have to be a strictly mental construct, but did she listen to me? What do you think?”

Pinkie smiled pleasantly. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“Oh, right.” Twilight’s ears drooped as she set the parchment aside. “Sorry, Pinkie. I just get so wrapped up in studying sometimes … I haven’t found much on time itself, much less chronomancy.”

Pinkie’s eyes lit up. “But there is something?”

“Just a few references to mages who studied time over the ages. Star Swirl the Bearded, Clover the Clever … some lesser-known figures, too. It might be interesting to see what this ‘Heart Knell’ had to say …”

Studying the references Twilight had jotted down, Pinkie broke into a grin. “This is great! There really might be something out there I can use!”

“These don’t look like common books and scrolls, though. I’m not sure we could find them here in the library.”

“But they might be in the palace library! Princess Celestia said it was fine if I came over there!”

“... She did? When?”

“When we freed Princess Luna. But at the same time, it never happened. So it’s complicated.”

Whatever Twilight had been about say to that, Pinkie never found out. The library door slammed open, revealing a panting Spike, who leaned against the doorframe for support. “Twilight! Come quick! Everfree … bear … huge …”

“Spike, take a deep breath.” Twilight rested a hoof on his shoulder. “Can you repeat that?”

Spike gulped in air, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Snips and Snails were—”

A bloodcurdling roar made everyone’s eyes bug out.

Pinkie jumped, scattering books everywhere. “What was that?”

“The Ursa Major!” Spike stared into space, shell-shocked. “Snips and Snails were hearing that Trixie pony brag about beating one while she was signing autographs — I mean, she was bragging while signing autographs about beating an Ursa Major, not bragging about beating one while signing autographs at the same time — no, that makes it sound like her autographs were about the Ursa Major, rather than her bragging — actually—”

“Spike!” Twilight shook him, gently but firmly. “We can discuss syntax later. What do Ursa Majors have to do with …”

She trailed off, eyes wandering to the window. From there, the night-darkened sky could be seen, though a second roar made it difficult to properly enjoy. Distantly, they could hear someone scream about their ruined mane.

“They brought one into town, didn’t they?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

Pinkie and Spike looked at each other in that awkward assurance two creatures feel when neither has a clue what is going on. Finally, Pinkie spoke up. “Somepony ... brought a giant bear into Ponyville?”

“Not just any bear.” Twilight galloped out of the library, and Pinkie, though startled by the sudden motion, followed in quick pursuit, while a wheezing Spike trailed behind. “The star beasts are said to have come down from the night sky millennia ago. There are all kinds of legends about them — that they’re the children of constellations, or that they’re running from some even bigger monster in the stars — but the one fact everypony can agree on is that they’re really, really big.”

“How big are we talking?”

Twilight pointed. Over the thatched rooftops, a mass of the night sky loomed a few shades lighter, as though the sun hadn’t quite set. It was only when the mass moved that Pinkie, suddenly wobbly, realized its significance.

Pinkie’s voice was barely a squeak. “Oh.” And she turned and ran the other way.

“No, stop that!”

She struggled as purple magic grabbed her, dragging her back toward Twilight. “No, Twilight, I can’t deal with that bear! If I do, I know for sure it’ll kill me.”

“Don’t be silly.” Twilight continued to gallop toward the source of the chaos, with a hyperventilating Pinkie in tow. “Earth ponies are too tough for that.”

“And unicorns can just teleport an entire bear back into the forest, right?”

Twilight missed a step, but caught herself. She glanced back at Pinkie, seeming to realize what she’d implied.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” Twilight examined her hooves, slowing as she thought it over. “I made a generalization … a stereotype, even. I’m not thinking straight.”

“That’s understandable.” Pinkie gestured as another roar rattled windows to either side. “We do have a slight problem here. Can you let me go?”

“We need all our friends to deal with this,” Twilight reasoned, continuing on her way. “That’s how it works, right? With friends, you can do anything!”

“If I ever go crazy,” Pinkie mumbled to nopony in particular, “please don’t have me say something like that.”

They arrived at the scene, and Twilight paused at the edge of the site of destruction to get a better view. As for Pinkie, she could only stare as the Ursa, easily large enough to rival most buildings, stepped on a house and growled to itself, sniffing at wafts of smoke. The star on its forehead glowed with irritation, and it roared, sending everypony scattering even more.

Before the beast, though, stood Trixie, whose horn blazed like a beacon. Around her, wisps of air whistled through the square, creating a painting of every color of the wind. Strange shapes loomed to life in the opaque fog, reaching with thirsty claws as they stepped resolutely forward …

The Ursa sniffed. Then, with a paw the size of the largest of them, it batted them away, leaving colors dissolving in their wake.

“Guh!” Trixie gasped, collapsing as her horn went out. She struggled to get back onto her hooves, but the bear’s roar made her freeze in place. “Help ...”

“Trixie! Hold on!” Twilight galloped forward, seeming to have forgotten that she was still carrying Pinkie. Her horn glowed vividly, and she refused to falter even as the Ursa turned its attention toward them with its lip curled.

Pinkie gazed up in resignation. “This is not going to be fun …”

The Ursa leaned in, faster than anything that size had a right to do. Its jaws, bared wide to expose every tooth, swiped down at Twilight … missing her by inches. As a consolation prize, it managed to snap Pinkie up instead, and it bit down with a mighty crunch.

∞

“Fluttershy!” Pinkie exclaimed, dragging her toward a cafe. “Why don’t you have lunch with me?”

“Well, I already ate …”

“Eat some more! I’m sure you get hungry sometimes!”

“That’s true.”

They took a window seat. The establishment was oddly quiet at that hour … odd, that is, for Fluttershy, whose past experiences with the food industry had apparently been crowded affairs. Pinkie, who was aware that most of the town had gathered to watch Trixie’s show, was less surprised.

“It’s a little strange,” Fluttershy admitted, sipping at her juice. “Nopony’s around. It’s a bit eerie … like they’re hiding until the perfect moment to startle somepony.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Pinkie poked at her jelly doughnut. It was oozing red all over her napkin, and suddenly she lost her appetite. “They’re probably getting embarrassed by a braggy pony with a pegasus complex.”

“It’s funny you would say that.” Fluttershy’s eyes roved over a stylish painting of a duck. “I have a cousin just like that. I haven’t seen her in years, though …”

They talked through the evening — that is, Pinkie talked about nothing in particular, and Fluttershy would occasionally chime in when it seemed appropriate. It was nice, Pinkie thought, to spend some time with her shy friend. Even though Fluttershy was a little reluctant to speak her mind at times, she usually put plenty of thought into what she would say. The little pauses between when Pinkie ended and Fluttershy began, the scrunch of a yellow muzzle, and the eyes flitting down as if to pick thoughts like flowers … all of it spoke of an interest in the conversation, even if a hint of hesitance colored most of her words.

So Pinkie could be forgiven if, until a roar rattled the window, she had completely forgotten that a giant bear was going to attack thanks to two stupid colts.

“Eep!” Fluttershy dived under the table. A lock of pink peeked out from beneath. “W-What was that?”

“It’s an Ursa Minor.” Pinkie took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down.

“A what?”

“A giant bear made of stars. Sometimes it eats ponies.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy dared to poke her nose beyond the safety of the table. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

Pinkie remembered. She saw, in her mind’s eye, a shy pegasus soothing a rampaging manticore with minimal effort. “Fluttershy … you like animals, right?”

“Oh, of course! Working with them is my special talent.”

“How do you feel about bears?”

“Well, they can be grumpy sometimes, but that’s usually in fall and winter. They tend to avoid ponies during spring and summer, so unless you go out of your way to confront them they tend to you leave you alone. They can be perfectly nice once you get to know them and earn their trust.” Enthusiasm shone in her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Fluttershy whimpered.

“See? It’s just like any other bear!” Pinkie had to raise her voice to make her assurance heard as she pushed her friend toward the rampaging beast, leaving a lengthy skidmark behind them. “He’s really disoriented, I think. I know I’d be disoriented if I were a giant among not-giants!”

“B-but he’s so huge … and scary …”

“Well, he’s probably more scared of you than you are of him!”

Fluttershy didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Twilight!” Pinkie called, noting two unicorns facing off against the Ursa; their horns glowed with effort as they cast spell after spell. “Everything’s okay! I brought an expert!”

Twilight didn’t look around, instead staring resolutely up at the beast, with a force field shielding her and her companion. “A little busy right now …”

Fluttershy shrank a little at the closeness of the bear. Then her eyes widened even further. “T-Trixie?”

The blue unicorn’s ears perked at the sound of her name, and she looked over, the Ursa briefly forgotten. “Fluttershy?! Where have you been hiding?”

“We don’t have time for your monologuing, Trixie!” Pinkie picked Fluttershy up with all the strength she could muster, and tossed her into the air. “Fluttershy, go show that bear who’s boss!”

“...” Fluttershy fell face-first into the dirt. A muffled mumble was her response.

“Come on, I know you can do this!” Pinkie pulled at her wings, but they seemed to be glued to her sides. “I saw you tame that manticore like nopony’s business! He had poison and everything. This guy is just big!”

“Too big …”

“Just look at him. Is he really all that different from normal bears?”

Reluctantly, Fluttershy peeked up at the Ursa through her mane. As it slammed a paw against Twilight’s shield, Fluttershy flinched, but she managed to keep her eyes on it.

“It would be nice if you could do something, Sparkle!” Trixie was shouting, summoning thunderclouds to swarm the Ursa. “I’ll admit your skills are decent, since you trounced me so easily, so put them to use!”

“I would if I didn’t have to protect you!” Twilight grunted, flaring her horn. The cracks in her shield were swiftly washed away in a flash of light. “It isn’t easy casting multiple spells at once!”

Trixie waved her forelegs, casting a spell to make every cloud unleash its bolts on the Ursa at once. It grumbled, more from annoyance than pain, and lazily started to swat them away. “Clearly you’ve never heard of linking spell matrices! A simple ceratomantic chain reaction can allow many effects for the price of one pulse of mana!”

“I’ll admit spell matrices are useful, but linking them in ways not meant to be used is asking for disaster! Besides, you still can’t avoid the need for concentration, and using them too frequently makes you run the risk of becoming complacent!”

“Are you calling me lazy?”

“Not in so many words! But if I were, I’d have thought that was already implied.”

“Hmph! I’ll have to set you straight later.” But a grin pulled at the corner of Trixie’s mouth.

Fluttershy looked from the unicorns to the bear, and then back again. Then, she took a timid step forward. “Um, maybe you could stop fighting …?”

“Fluttershy, this is dangerous!” Twilight called. She shifted the surface of her shield into something spikier, and the Ursa roared in pain when its paw slammed down onto its points. “Don’t come any closer!”

Trixie barked a laugh as she twisted at the winds, creating a small cyclone that did little more than ruffle the Ursa’s fur. “Just because you have the Element of Magic, dear cousin, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t leave this to the experts.”

Pausing mid-step, Fluttershy bit her lip.

At her side, Pinkie leaned forward, patting her shoulder.

Fluttershy swallowed, and then spoke. “No.”

“I don’t think they heard you,” Pinkie half-whispered.

Yellow wings flared, and blue eyes narrowed. Fluttershy resumed the long march forward. “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do, Trixie, especially not now. I am an expert.”

Both unicorns stared as she approached. “Excuse me?” Trixie asked.

“Fluttershy, run!” Twilight winced as her shield took another blow.

“I know animals,” Fluttershy said, ignoring both of them. “And I know that you need to stop provoking him. He’s only a baby.”

Trixie’s eyes bugged out. “He’s what?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Twilight said, a little exasperated. “Ursas Minor haven’t grown in their tusks yet! And Ursas Major are usually larger than entire towns! This is basic cryptozoology!”

Pinkie, gripped with the urge to run, found herself rooted in place.

“That might be true,” Fluttershy admitted, “but you’re still scaring him.” Her wings flapped, lifting her into the air. “Let me handle this.”

Nopony else moved as she approached the Ursa Minor, which had stopped pounding at the shield and was now staring at her in curiosity and a little trepidation. It cocked its head, nostrils flaring as it took in this new scent.

“You’re not mean, are you?” Fluttershy’s words flowed like water, smooth and uninterruptible. “You’re just a little lost and aren’t sure how to get home. Poor baby bear.”

The Ursa’s eyes crossed slightly as it tried to focus on Fluttershy, who landed daintily on its nose. Its ears flopped back, and a moan like a dog reverberated from its chest.

“I know. I’m sure your mommy misses you. Would it be okay if I pointed you back to the Everfree Forest? That way you could find her again.”

There was a low growl.

“You’re absolutely right; they shouldn’t have woken you up. That was very rude of them. But don’t you think their parents can best tell them that?”

Hidden in an alleyway, two colts exchanged guilty looks.

“And it’s okay to be angry sometimes. What’s not okay is destroying other people’s homes. Okay?” Fluttershy smiled. “Let’s get you home.”

The Ursa dipped its head. Fluttershy rose to its eye level, and, following her lead, it began its lumbering walk back toward Everfree. Wreckage crunched beneath every sweeping step.

“Did she just …?” Trixie watched as the bear turned, looking pensive. “Perhaps there’s more to her than I thought. Just maybe, though. I wonder if—”

Twilight screamed. She lunged after the bear, stopped only by the sudden appearance of Applejack and Rainbow Dash as they leapt in to hold her back. She strained against their grasp, horn flaring in an attempt to push them out of the way; in the flickering light of firelight, twin streaks gleamed on her cheeks, and her eyes bulged in horror.

Pinkie wasn’t sure what her deal was. She was feeling kind of tired, and she wasn’t sure how she’d ended up bouncing on her side, but as far as she could tell, she was doing fine. The sight of Twilight wailing in anguish bounced gradually away, shrinking into a pitiful display of frantic pastels.

“Oh …” Fluttershy’s face loomed into view. “Pinkie, you’re … are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. I can’t feel anything, though. Isn’t that weird?”

“Um.” Rubbing her hooves together, Fluttershy struggled to keep apace. “I think you’re a little … oh my goodness … you really can’t feel anything?”

“Not a thing.”

“Pinkie, I’m going to ask you not to panic. Can you do that for me? Uh, please?”

Something niggled at the back of Pinkie’s mind. “Why? What’s wrong?”

They were outside of Ponyville by now. From this distance, she could see the trail of destruction the Ursa was leaving behind. She hoped somepony would be able to get that cleaned up.

“Well …” Fluttershy flew around in a tight arc as they passed a tree. “You know shish kebabs?”

“Yeah. You know what sounds good right now? Chocolate-covered fruit shish kebabs. I should try that sometime when the world’s not in danger.”

Fluttershy shivered. “Pinkie, the Ursa’s claws … you got impaled on them.”

“... Oh.” Common sense would have left her a gibbering wreck, but she was just feeling a little lightheaded. “That explains all the red stuff we’re leaving behind. How bad is it?”

“Um … they’re bigger than I thought … and you’re getting crushed every time he takes a step.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Blue eyes welled with tears. “Pinkie … I’m sorry, but … I don’t think you’re going to make it.”

Pinkie burst out laughing. With each guffaw, she thought she could feel hints of movement deep within, though she couldn’t move her head to check just how bad she looked. It didn’t matter, really. What did, at this point?

“It’s … not that funny,” Fluttershy mumbled, sounding almost offended.

Trying to pat her friend on the shoulder had no effect, so Pinkie grinned a snaggle-toothed grin. “Hey. Hey, Fluttershy. You can let me go die, okay? I don’t think I can recover all that well from this.”

“B-but … Maybe Twilight …”

“I don’t think she went to med school. Sorry, Flutters. You can collect my body later, okay? Right now I think Twilight needs a friend.”

Fluttershy looked almost as torn as Pinkie was. “You’re … oh!” And she took off for Ponyville again, watering the ground with her tears.

“Poor Fluttershy,” Pinkie said. She heard something squish as the Ursa’s paw came down again. “I hope I die soon. I bet this would be really uncomfortable if I could feel anything.”

The moon was high in the sky, though its light was heavily filtered by the Everfree canopy. Pinkie lay scattered across the forest floor like a rag, having finally slipped and fallen from the Ursa’s claws. She could still faintly hear its footsteps crunching vegetation like twigs, but she wasn’t in much of a position to appreciate nature in motion, only being able to see a few inches in front of her in the dim light. Scraggly undergrowth tickled her nose.

“Well, here I am.” Pinkie’s voice was quiet. “Here in Everfree, waiting for death. I wonder if I should say something poetic to send myself off. Or did I do that already? Wow, life is just full of surprises.”

Part of her screamed that the wolves were due to descend any minute now. Strangely, the rest of her didn’t seem to mind. There probably wouldn’t be enough for them to eat, anyway. Would she taste good? Strange what kinds of questions occurred to a pony on the verge of death. Maybe she could get an unofficial doctorate in philosophy.

The snap of a branch caught her attention, and she noticed the swish of something moving past bushes alongside the clip-clop of hooves. Blinking, she listened.

“Oh dear.” The voice was probably male and definitely sickened. Pinkie wasn’t sure why. “Oh, you poor, poor girl. I hope you died quickly, Pinkie.”

Pinkie held her breath. Or maybe she just stopped being able to breathe. It was hard to tell at this point.

“I hope there’s enough time,” the voice said. There was a clink of glass against metal, and a hoof stepped into view, gray in the shadows. “If I’m right, there should be five weeks until the collapse of everything. By then, this business should be … taken care of in …”

He trailed off. Slowly, a face leaned into view, eyes peering at her through the dark.

Pinkie grinned.

“Horseapples!” The stallion tore through the brush, sending equipment flying behind him. An hourglass landed on her head, cracking it — the hourglass, not her head — and dumping sand into her eyes. With only one sense left to her, she heard him galloping off into the night.

Finally, having nothing else to do, Pinkie died.

∞

“Mrs. Cake?”

“Yes, Pinkie?”

“Do you have a teddy I could burn?”