Paardenvlees

"We should probably stick to areas known. Small towns would most likely be the best course." After all, the wilderness was filled with frightful creatures, much stronger than a staggering, disease ridden- he shuddered.

"The nearest place to Canterlot, while a rather sizable town, is likely smaller, my dear. Especially on the night of the Gala- many ponies- and creatures- had the privilege to attend this year." Which would mean....

"Anyplace aside from Canterlot is much safer than it would be, if this happened any other day. We should probably travel to Ponyville. It's close by." It wasn't exactly a plan, but it was a goal to reach, at least.

The question was, how would they get there? It was two days by train, but in these circumstances, they'd have to trot there by hoof. It'd probably be several days. They'd have to bring- "Supplies. I don't believe I have enough for two, for several days. I'm.. I'm sure they'd be fine with us looting... For survivals sake, of course..."

Yet, he found it was greatly difficult to take food off of somepony else's counter. What other choice did he have? Sure, it was possible to survive off grass, but that was a desperate measure. As difficult as it was, it'd have to do. He wasn't willing to forgo proper nutrition, yet.

Fancy willfully ignored the stunned gasp of the yak behind him. Probably because he was resorting to petty thievery. "I know it's not very... Ideal.... But it's the best we can do. It's this or malnutrition, and I'll pay them back."

They left the house, met with utter chaos outside. Ponies were fighting off the diseased, or becoming diseased themselves, royal guards and Wonderbolts could be seen dotting the area, trying to hold back the invasion. One by one, they were falling to the diseased, as much as the regular citizens of the city.

Fancy ignored the crashing around them, trying to focus on the task at hoof. He was cut off, by one of the diseased tackling him, chomping at him in a foaming frenzy.

This one, unlike some of the others, seemed aggressive, to his confusion and terror. It snapped at him repeatedly like a ghastly gorge eel, until its teeth sunk into his horn.

He shook his head violently, no doubt cutting into the creatures mouth, before forcing his head forward, his horn protruding from the top of her muzzle. He pulled away, ripping her face open, before getting a good look at who it was.

Fleur.

Fancy slowly approached the unmoving pony with numb fascination. It was as if the damage he had done hadn't quite sunk in, yet. Then, like a particularly sturdy brick wall, it hit him. As did the realization that the disease had just been injected into his head, by a pony that... He... Murdered.

It was rather difficult to properly register it. He killed somepony. Somepony who knew. Fleur was dead, and even when this mess was over, she would remain so.

"We can't stop, Fancy pony! Scary ponies are all around!" Yona's voice cut through the ringing in his ears, and he was brought back to the current situation. There would be time to grieve and deal with his horn, later, they had to get somewhere less overcrowded! They ran toward the train station.

They couldn't go to Ponyville via train, but it'd be best to follow the tracks, there. The train station was empty. The silence, deafening, but not unwelcome after the loudness of screams and destruction they had faced a mere hour ago.

What was unwelcome, however, was how dark the tunnel into the mountain was. It'd be difficult, if not impossible, to see what was happening in such darkness. Fancy winced, lighting his partially damaged, and probably infected horn, causing Yona to slightly jump at the unstable crackle it let out.

Light illuminated the station... Then sparked back into darkness. Fancy cursed, before taking another look at the tunnel. Perhaps it'd be less dangerous to climb down the mountain. At least then, there wouldn't be the danger of a speeding train, or an unseen enemy.

Although, looking outside, it seemed that leaving the station during the cities chaotic state seemed like a bad idea as well. He sat in front of where the train would never come, most likely. "Well, Yona is it? I believe everypony- creature- is affected by this. We can't go this way, but... We can rest here, at the very least, until things die down."

He had noticed how quiet she had been. While he had little to no knowledge of yaks, he couldn't help but think it was probably uncharacteristic for such silence to take hold. "Pardon my forwardness, but is something wrong?"

Yona not like strange ponies! Yona want to go back to Yakyakistan, where yak safe! Yona's friends are all gone! Yona not know where they went, in fancy city!"

It dawned on him, now, that asking if something was wrong, on what was probably another worldwide problem, was foolish. What was even more foolish was his assumption that a yak that was very clearly not full grown had been by herself in Canterlot of all places. "Yes, I do see why that would be a problem, for anypony- anycreature.... Hmm."

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about this. Sure, the situation is rather unfortunate, but we've been through a lot of horrors, haven't we? Things always turn out alright. Every threat that's happened so far has been defeated by the Elements Of Harmony. As long as they exist, and as long as those they connect to survive, everything will turn out. You'll see."

"Now, for both our sakes, get some rest. We have a mountain to climb."

The moon hadn't moved an inch, nor had the sun. Everything was frozen, dark, and silent, only occasionally broken by a distant scream, from the inner city. Fancy's head was pounding, as he felt the infection trying to spread, staunching his magic. He couldn't afford to get diseased, as well, he knew.

If he did, he could end up like Fleur. With this thought, he failed to withhold a shudder. His eyes were burning, yet everything else felt cold and bitter. He had killed a pony. And if he became more infected, he could force a young creature to do the same. He couldn't let this happen.

He laid his head on the ground, carefully placed his hoof on his horn, and slowly started pushing. Increasing in pressure. He bit back a shout, at the first crack. He brought his other foreleg to his mouth, biting onto his nice suit. It shamefully ripped, as he fought the urge to buck and scream as it cracked past the third layer of bone.

Then, with a violent yank, and a rip of his suit sleeve, his horn was violently cracked off, the cracked stub oozing blood, and sparking with unstable magic, trying to heal itself, but unable to. And the weight of the situation brought his head back to the ground, as he spent the rest of his time, weeping into his hooves.