Two Generations Past

Far from the young village of Ponyville, in a deep and unpleasant forest known only as Hollow Shades, a young filly sat in the shade of a tall Jeffrey Pine.

Her coat was ashen, her long mane a dark gray with rusty streaks. There was tree pitch all over her, but she didn't seem to care. She was too focused on lifting a large wooden mallet.

Finally, she brought it over her shoulder, and swung it with all her might at a tree tap.

She dropped the mallet, picked up a nearby bucket, and placed it under the tap.

This tap's predecessor had been damaged by some sort of animal, and had needed replacing. Now that this tedious task was complete, it was time to get to the real chore.

She turned to the little road through Hollow Shades. It wasn't exactly clear of plants, nor was it very distinct, but it allowed her to pull the small wagon she'd built.

The wagon was even shoddier than the road, built from layers of tree bark and cut logs, and lacking sides. But the wheels turned.

It was currently laden with at least eight full buckets of tree resin.

The earth pony walked in front of the wagon, picked up an attached rope in her teeth, and started to pull it.

The road to the Alchemist's home was a long one.

Hairtrigger looked at the note she'd received.

Wraps had taken to leaving letters at Hairtrigger's door. Taunts, mainly. Hairtrigger knew it was a bad idea to pay them any attention, but she read every one.

To the esteemed psychopath,

I saw a human the other day. It waved and asked me to let a 'Hairtrigger Heartstrings' know it would be visiting soon.

Hairtrigger glared. She crumpled up the letter and threw it into her small fireplace.

The fireplace wasn't lit. It didn't matter. She'd burn it later.

Actually, there was a large pile of crumpled lettered. Hairtrigger sighed. “I need to find some matches one of these days...”

She looked around, at her cluttered home. The walls were covered in pictures of humans, crude sketches, blurry photographs of humanoid creatures—each one of which had turned out to be much less fearsome beings. Rabbits, dragons, monkeys, slendermares...

Feeling a sudden wave of disgust, she grabbed the nearest drawing and threw it into the fireplace.

She blinked. What had she done?

Slowly, she reached for the discarded diagram.

Then she stopped. She turned. And she ripped a photo off and threw it in as well.

Suddenly, she was grabbing everything she could find involving humans, crumpling, shredding, even biting. She just felt so angry. The pile in the fireplace continued to grow.

The moment passed. Hairtrigger stopped, panting.

“Panic attacks?”

Hairtrigger yelped. She looked around. “Wh-who's there?”

“Um...up here.”

Hairtrigger looked up to the ceiling. There was nopony to be seen. “What?”

“The chimney.”

Hairtrigger frowned. She walked slowly to the fireplace and stuck her head in. She looked up.

A pink-maned yellow pegasus looked down at her, eyes wide. “H-hi.”

Crab turned away from the tree, braced, and kicked. The pattering of apples falling into their baskets followed.

He smiled. “Nothing like a--”

He stopped as he saw a pair of white pegasi coming up the path. They were dressed in golden armor.

Crab sighed. “Darn. Here I was hoping it'd be a nice, slow day.”

He trotted up to meet the two royal guards. “Hey. What's it this time? We handled that dragon problem, but--”

He stopped again. The guards looked confused.

“Sorry, sir,” one of them said, “have we met?”

“Eh? Oh, no.” Crab shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry. Name's Crab Apple. Smith's son. I helped her with the dragon 'bout a month back, see.”

They still looked confused.

“Smith?” the other guard asked.

“Huh.” Crab frowned. “So you ain't here with a...sorry.” He sat down on the path. “Well, what can I do y'for? You here on official business, or--”

“Yes.” One of the guards stepped forward. “One month ago, three dragon eggs were stolen.”

“Oh. Oh.” Crab nodded quickly. “I see. Yeah, was a real crisis. Any luck findin' 'em?”

“We have reason to believe so, yes.”

“Great!” Crab grinned. “So, where are they?”

“We are not sure.” The guards' eyes narrowed. “But,” the closer one said, “they have been on this farm.”

Crab's grin melted.

“We would like to have a...talk with you, Mister...”

“Apple.” Crab's mouth was dry. “Crab Apple.”

“Sooo.”

Merry looked up from her whiskey bottle. Scratch was standing there, grinning. Other than Doctor Scratch, they were alone in the club.

“Yes?” She took a sip of whiskey.

“How've you been, Merry?”

Merry started to frown, then caught herself. She took another swig from the bottle. She wasn't nearly as drunk as she needed to be. “Good.”

“That's good.”

“Yes...”

Scratch just stood there, grinning.

Merry looked at the table, avoiding Scratch's gaze. Even with those shades, Scratch was still watching. She sighed inwardly and took another deep gulp of the drink. It burned her throat, but she barely noticed that anymore.

Scratch was still grinning.

This was going to be a long day.

Rosin Wheel had arrived.

She looked over the dark stone dwelling for a moment. Then she walked over to the thick iron door, raised her hoof, and knocked four times.

The door opened almost immediately. A gaunt lavender unicorn stood there. His white mane was thinned and unkempt, and he sported a small goatee. He looked Rosin Wheel over. “Where is the resin, brat?”

Rosin turned and pointed at the wagon.

The Alchemist raised an eyebrow. He stepped outside, pushing Rosin out of the way, and walked stiffly over to the wagon.

He leaned over and sniffed. “Hm.”

He turned and walked back to Rosin. The tall stallion towered over her.

“Your job is simple, brat.”

Rosin looked up at him, expressionless.

“Be glad I am willing to tolerate your failures, but my bones are weak. I cannot risk the woods, with the bears and cougars and jack o' lanterns.” He glared narrowly at the young filly. “Your job is simple. So simple the most brainless of bison could manage it. And yet. You continue to disappoint.”

Rosin just looked up.

“I require resin from Jeffrey pines, imbecile.” The Alchemist leaned down and shouted in Rosin's face. “Jeffrey pines! What you have brought me is the urine from a Ponyderosa pine! Do you know what can be done with this?”

He turned, spun, and gave the wagon a solid buck. His hooves went through the bark contraption like they were no more than sheets of caked mud. The buckets went every which way, spilling gallons of resin that had taken a week to collect.

Rosin only stared.

The Alchemist walked back to Rosin. “Now. You will bring what I ask for. I'm not paying you for worthless buckets of pitch. And if you bring me any more of this, food will be the least of your worries.”

He shoved past again and went back inside. The door slammed shut and locked.

Rosin looked at the door, then at the remains of her wagon.

It had taken so long to build.

The only thing harder than telling the difference between Jeffrey pines and Ponyderosa pines was telling the difference between their resins. The Alchemist's sense of smell depended only on his moods.

Food was getting harder and harder to come by as his moods worsened.

Still showing no emotion, Rosin walked over to the wagon.

She picked up the emptied buckets and stacked them.

She would wash them in the river, and decide quickly how to get food.

It had been two days. If the Alchemist's threats were to be believed, she would begin to suffer serious side effects on day three.

“Hi?” Hairtrigger looked up at the yellow pegasus, frowning. “What...uh...”

“How'd I get up here?” The pegasus seemed to shrug—it was hard to tell, since Hairtrigger could only see her face. “I, um, climbed. I heard yelling.”

“Oh.” Hairtrigger blinked. “Uh...sorry.”

“That's okay.”

The two mares looked at each other.

“So. Did you say panic attacks?”

“What? Oh.” The pegasus nodded. “Yes, um. I sometimes, um, get them. Were you having one?”

“Uh...” Hairtrigger hesitated. “I'm...not sure. I just kind of get angry, and I don't have anywhere to get it out but here.”

“Oh! I'm sorry.” The pegasus started to pull out. “I'll let you...”

“No, no, it's fine.” Hairtrigger shrugged, realizing as she did so that this strange visitor probably wouldn't be able to tell. “I mean, I'm done. I just...” She looked at the pile of papers. “I think I need to burn something. So, yeah, I think you should probably...”

“Okay.” The pegasus pulled out. Hairtrigger heard her whisper something.

“What's that?”

The pegasus looked back down. “Um...my name is Buttered Rye.”

“Hairtrigger Heartstrings.”

“Okay,” Rye whispered. She backed out again.

Heartstrings looked up for a moment, to be sure Buttered Rye wasn't coming back.

Then she turned. Alright, I know I had matches somewhere...ah!

She spotted a little matchbook lying on the floor. She levitated it up, took out a match, and struck it.

It didn't light.

She scowled. She didn't use her magic very often. She tried again.

This time, it lit. Smiling, she tossed the burning twig into the fireplace.

Then she lay down on the straw mat and watched it burn.

It burned quickly. Soon, she was alone in the dark house, lit only by the cracks in a worn window shade and the light from the chimney—currently filled with smoke, and therefore not very bright.

She sighed, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

She got up, went over to the window, and looked out.

The sun was setting.

She hesitated.

Then, scowling, she got up and walked to the door.

I'm not scared of them. I'm not scared of her.

She opened the door, and went outside.

On a whim, she chose the one place she was sure somepony like Wraps would never be at this hour—the nightclub.

Wraps trotted alongside Dizzy. “You're certain it will be quiet?” she asked skeptically.

“Oh, totally.” Dizzy nodded enthusiastically. “It's only crowded in the evenings because of a specific assortment. A bunch from out of town. Their leader is sick, so...”

“So it will be quiet.” Wraps nodded. “Excellent. Thank you for alerting me to this, Dizzy.” She smiled. “I am sure this will be a pleasant evening.”

Crab found Smoky on a tall hill in the middle of the orchard. She was practicing a spell on a pile of rocks as he approached.

The words of the guards were still ringing in his ears.

“Suspected teleportation, given what we know...”

“Knowledge of the mission beforehand...”

“...know anypony like that?”

“No,” he had answered. *“No, I've no idea. I'm sorry.”*

“...protecting anypony?”

“...covering up for anypony?”

“No,” he'd said firmly. “Sorry. Smith an' I went alone. No unicorns. Y'can ask, she'll tell you.”

Fortunately, the nearby Smith had worked out enough of what was happening to support Crab's lies.

Or was it so fortunate?

He shook himself. Sighing, he walked over to his friend. “Smoky.”

“Hm?” Smoky glanced over. She grinned. “Ah, Crab! I have not--”

“Smoky. We've gotta talk.”

Smoky's grin lapsed a little. “...about what, Crab?”

Crab took a step closer, scowling. “About two guards lookin' for you.”

Smoky froze.

“About the dragon.”

Smoky didn't move for a moment.

Then she laughed nervously.

“Oh...that.”

Rosin looked up at the setting sun. Three days had nearly elapsed.

She had replaced the buckets. All she could hope for was that, when she'd lugged the buckets one at a time to the Alchemist's door, he would be in a good enough mood to pay her.

She nestled into her little bed of leaves and feathers. It wasn't comfortable, but it was right by the road. Most predators had learned to let her be—she wasn't too bad in a fight, after an entire life spent in these woods.

Of course, if she didn't get food soon, she would grow weak. Then the predators might decide to try their luck once again, for a taste of pony meat.

She did her best to dispel such thoughts as she closed her eyes.

Then she opened her eyes.

Her senses had been honed by a lifetime spent surrounded by danger. She heard something she had never heard before.

Something very strange was headed her way.

Reaching for her staff—her only real protection—she peeked through the bushes at the road.

Something big was coming her way. It reminded her of her now demolished wagon, but much larger, better made. It had walls and a roof, too. Even a door, with a small window covered in blue cloth.

It was pulled by an irritable-looking earth pony stallion. It wasn't going very quickly—the weeds tugged at those amazing spoked wheels.

She stared, as blank as ever.

“Hey!” A white unicorn with a light gray mane stuck his head out the window. His voice was strange. Accented. “Hurry it up over there!”

The stallion turned around, scowling. “I'm goin' as fast as I can, Doctor. This path ain't exactly paved in gold. Ain't paved, period.”

Rosin looked at the two ponies.

Then she crouched, and scurried off.

“Did you hear something?” she heard the stallion ask.

“I don't pay you to hear things! I pay you to get me through these abysmal woods! Do so!”

“I'm just sayin'...”

As their voices faded away, Rosin zeroed in on a single fact. A single truth that meant every difference in the world.

The Alchemist would be asleep by now.

Dizzy and Wraps sat at the bar, as the sky grew dark, laughing. Nearby, Merry leaned on the bar, talking to Scratch, getting drunker and drunker.

Basalteus sat in the corner. He had bought a glass of milk, and was watching the interactions between Merry and Scratch with a wariness that somewhat confused Dizzy.

But Dizzy was just concentrating on having fun with her best friend. She'd had a shot of brandy, for the first time, at Wraps's recommendation. It tasted good, but she was feeling a little light-headed now.

Wraps had stuck to ordinary cider, but she had had enough that it was small surprise when Wraps got up. “I'll be right back, Dizzy. Don't go anywhere. I just need to...”

She trailed off. Dizzy shrugged. “Outhouse is right by the back door.” She gestured.

Wraps nodded, and hurried off.

Dizzy giggled softly. This was a good night.

Then the door opened.

A mint unicorn entered, looked around, then trotted over to a table. “I w-want some...cider,” she called to Scratch.

Dizzy felt her heart sinking. This was not a good night.

“What?” Scratch looked away from Merry, scowling. “Oh, sure. Fine.” She turned, and began pouring the drink.

“Hairtrigger!” Dizzy hissed.

Hairtrigger turned, and seemed to notice Dizzy for the first time. She glared. “What do you want?”

“Hairtrigger, Wraps is--”

The back door opened. Wraps reentered. “Alright, Dizzy, where were...” Her eyes widened. She stumbled, nearly tripped, then came to a complete stop. She was looking straight at Hairtrigger. “...we.”

The room suddenly became very quiet.

Rosin cracked open the window. For all the Alchemist's supposed caution with the door, he never locked the window. Too often did he need to open it to air out the cottage.

The filly climbed up through the window and down onto a wooden table.

The night sky was cloudy now. All was nearly pitch black. She could see enough, though.

She picked her way over the table and hopped onto the messy floor. She felt a searing pain—she had stepped on some broken glass.

She saw the Alchemist sleeping in his cot nearby.

He never cleaned this place.

She limped over to the far wall, and pulled a small latch in the floor.

She leaned down, grabbed the trapdoor handle in her teeth, and yanked with all her might.

The trapdoor swung open. She leaned it against the wall, and reached down.

In the little pit dug below, at least eight kegs of a strange black power had been stacked. She remembered the Alchemist ranting about them in one of his worse moods, claiming borderline godhood, referencing his power to obliterate whoever he chose.

She was expressionless as she lifted up the highest keg. It was very heavy, but her years hammering taps and carrying buckets full of thick resin had made her strong.

She rolled the keg over the floor—the glass made small tinkling noises as the keg crushed it further, but the Alchemist was sound asleep.

She lifted the keg up, and shoved several vials and papers aside to make way for it.

She then climbed up, picked it up, and stuffed it through the window.

It landed with a small thump in the bush below.

Rosin landed beside it. She pulled it out of the bush, and rolled it a fair way from the cabin.

Then she turned back.

Getting back in was easy, of course.

Finding the Alchemist's supply of candlewick twine was as well—it was always right by the door. She saw it every time she saw him. Equally easy to find was the knife, for similar reasons.

Using the knife to pry open the next keg down, however, was rather difficult. The knife was badly bent by the time she managed it.

She set the string lightly on the smelly powder, then turned away. Unrolling the roll of twine, she scrambled onto the table, through the window, and onto the ground below.

She unrolled the twine as far as it would go.

Then she procured the last item she had taken.

A match.

She struck it, set it to the twine, and watched it. It burned easily—the Alchemist knew his craft well.

Still expressionless, Rosin Wheel turned to her stolen keg. She picked it up and hoisted it onto her back.

Balancing it was a little tricky, but Rosin was nothing if not graceful. She made her way back through the forest.

She'd made it back to the carriage by the time the flame touched powder, but she wasn't nearly far enough to miss the light show. Nor to miss the cacophony.

There wasn't even a scream from the Alchemist. He probably hadn't even woken up.

“What in Celestia's name was that?” she heard the earth pony pulling the carriage cry.

The unicorn put his head out the window, looking terrified. “I—I'm not sure! Just...keep going!”

The earth pony hesitated. “Could be somepony hurt back there.”

The unicorn shook his head. “My daughter's in here. We must keep moving.”

The earth pony sighed. “Fair 'nough.” He turned away, and went back to driving.

They didn't notice Rosin sneaking around the back, nor did they notice her open one of the doors and clamber inside. There was a lot of luggage—one couldn't even see the front past the crates and cases.

Rosin set her keg down, closed the door quietly, and nestled into a pile of  sheets. She closed her eyes, and smiled.

It was over.

She was out.

Rosin awoke to bright lights and shouting.

“Celestia's sake, doc, she's just a kid. Look at those scratches. She might've--”

“I do not pay you to talk back to me!”

“Given all the things you 'parently don't pay me to do, it's a wonder I'm getting paid at all.”

“Indeed it is. Back to your station.

Rosin opened her eyes. The white unicorn was glaring down at her. Nearby was the earth pony, going back to the front of the carriage.

The unicorn doctor raised an eyebrow. “Ah, good. It's awake.”

Rosin looked around. She was still in the carriage. She didn't recognize the outside, but it wasn't a forest. The prairie beyond, she supposed.

Her foot hurt bitterly. She glanced at it. The glass cuts had turned an uneasy yellow.

“What are you doing in my carriage, whelp?”

Rosin turned to him. She opened her mouth, and a hoarse croak emerged. “I...”

She had not spoken in a long time.

“Don't bother.” The unicorn's horn glowed, and Rosin felt herself being lifted into the air. She fell to the ground with a cry.

“I...just...” Rosin felt queasy. She fell to her knees.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. He looked Rosin over. “Hm. Three days without food, I'd guess. And your wound looks infected. A vagabond. Thief, probably.”

“N...no...” Rosin felt her voice becoming desperate. Her stomach hurt, and her leg throbbed.

The doctor glared. “You have a lot of nerve. Sneaking aboard my carriage.” He glanced over. “And sneaking your illicit goods aboard.”

The keg levitated up and landed beside Rosin.

“I just...” Rosin coughed. “Some food?”

She was nearly whispering. She'd hoped it would hurt less to speak softly. But it hurt anyways.

“Scratch!” she heard the earth pony call. “We takin' her, or what?”

The unicorn looked up, rolling his eyes. “Certainly not. Expose my daughter to her? No. She should feel lucky I don't decide to teach her a lesson.” He trotted off, and back into the carriage.

The carriage departed. Rosin spotted a paper bag in its wake, dropped around where the driver had been standing.

She went over and looked inside. An apple, a sandwich and a bready disc of some sort.

A tear trickled by, unnoticed. She looked off down the path. There was a great mountain in the distance.

Too far.

She would see to her wound and eat this small gift.

Then, she would prepare.

The unicorn's name was Doctor Scratch.

And she came to a nearby little village. She didn't enter it, of course. She stuck to the woods nearby. There were plenty of farms nearby, that never noticed a missing carrot or apple.

She grew up beside Ponyville. And all the while, she prepared.

The keg's contents weren't too difficult to duplicate. She knew enough from the Alchemist to know what she needed, and what she couldn't scrounge up or substitute for she could steal from passing merchants.

There was also an easy means of working on her main project. A little piece of parchment from the Alchemist's room she had forgotten to take. Fortunately, Rosin had a good memory.

The diagram had been simple, but Rosin Wheel was able to expand on it. Proximity to an easily tampered-with furnace made things easy.

Interactions with other ponies were rather rare. There was one instance, with a pair of ponies who sought to detonate a workshed. Luckily, their means were inadequate. Rosin explained the errors to them, before taking something precious and departing.

The green fluid had made things much easier.

And while she worked on the device, and acquired the components, Rosin wondered.

Where was Scratch now?

Her questions were answered one afternoon, as she snuck to the home of a drunk. Mere lamp oil had been what she sought—the mare had a great deal of it.

Instead, she found something bigger.

A pair of earth ponies came to the house at that time. Rosin hid, but she did not leave.

They were discussing trivial matters. But suddenly, everything became very relevant when the gray stallion asked the purple mare a question.

“Have you shown Doctor Scratch any of this work?”

It was time.

“Heh.”

Hairtrigger sat in her chair, eyes wide, perfectly still, as Wraps approached. The earth pony had  predatory smile.

“Fancy seeing you here, Heartstrings.”

Dizzy watched, only a short distance away. She wanted to say something. But she felt paralyzed. I've been still this long...why speak up now?

She felt sick. The wall-eyed pegasus knew that this excuse was not going to cut it.

“Leave me alone, Wraps,” Hairtrigger muttered. She lifted her drink and took a deliberate sip.

“Hm?” Wraps chuckled. “Did I just hear a threat?”

“I didn't threaten you,” Hairtrigger said, putting down her drink. She glared at Undercut Wraps. “Just go away.”

“You know what?” Wraps grinned widely. Like an old friend. “I will. Soon. I just wanted to have a little talk with you first.”

“I don't want to talk to you.”

“That's a pity.” Wraps leaned in, still smiling brightly. “Because here I am. And short of leaving this club now, there's nothing you can do about it.”

Hairtrigger looked up defiantly at her tormentor.

“Excellent.” Wraps raised an eyebrow. She pulled up a chair and sat. “You see, Hairtrigger, I've been doing some research. What do you know about cardiac arrest?”

Hairtrigger blinked.

“Hm?” Wraps looked around. “Nopony? Honestly. This town really needs a school.”

“I know,” Scratch snapped. She turned to Merry. “Cardiac arrest. Also called a heart attack. It's caused by a lot of factors, notably an unstable collection of lipids and...um...” She frowned. “Whatever. I learned this ages ago.”

“Heh.” Wraps turned back to Hairtrigger. “Stress, Hairtrigger. It's called by stress.” Her wide smile had turned into that of a shark. “Stress makes the heart beat faster. When the heart beats too quickly, it can fail. And I don't know anypony more stressed than you.”

“If you're trying to scare me, it won't work.” Hairtrigger's grip on her glass was tightening. “I'm done being scared by you.”

“Oh?”

Wraps leaned in and whispered something. Dizzy couldn't hear what it was, but Hairtrigger went white.

“Y-you can't...”

“It's only a matter of time, Hairtrigger.”

“You...” Hairtrigger's expression was a mixture of terror and fury. “You're bucking threatening me.”

“Hm? Am I?”

Hairtrigger 's grip tightened further. The glass shattered.

Everypony in the club froze, having already been paying close attention.

Hairtrigger leaped over the table at Wraps, giving a cry.

Wraps yelped as the unicorn tackled her, pinning her to the floor.

“Listen closely,” Hairtrigger hissed. “I've had enough of your bile. I. Will. Not. Be--”

The unicorn stopped.

She looked at the broken handle around her hoof—all that remained of her glass of cider. The ends were razor sharp.

She looked back down at Wraps.

Wraps was smiling again. “Attacking me with a deadly weapon.”

Hairtrigger's eyes widened. She looked at the handle, and threw it away like it had just burst into flame. “N-no!” She scrambled off of Wraps. “I wouldn't--

Wraps got up, laughing. Her laugh was almost manic. “Oh, but you would. And you did.” She advanced on the trembling unicorn, who was at the moment struggling to hide in a corner. “It's over.”

“I—I would never--”

“You came close enough.”

Hairtrigger kept backing away, and realized she had nowhere left to go. She looked left, then right. Then she tried to bolt.

Wraps's arm shot out, blocking Hairtrigger's escape. Wraps leaned in, smiling. “No. You're going to the insane asylum. And you will never leave. And if those humans do come, who will they find? A deranged mare who's only been driven madder by her stay in one of the most awful places she's known. Your cousin went there. You can join her.” Wraps cocked her head, appearing to think. “She killed your siblings, didn't she? Tried to kill you?”

Hairtrigger was crying now. “I--I--”

Basalteus and Merry started to move off their chairs. Dizzy wanted to, too. But the same words of cowardice rang in her ears. Surely it's better to let them handle it...not get involved...

Wraps leaned closer, her smile widening further still. “You're going to be the best of friends, you two.”

And then she did something Dizzy didn't understand. She grabbed Hairtrigger, leaned in, and planted a kiss on the mare's forehead. Then she released the unicorn, with one final chuckle. “I suggest you go pack.”

Hairtrigger looked at Wraps, her face stained with wet tears.

Then she turned, sobbing, and ran. Past Hairtrigger, past Dizzy, and out the door.

Finally, something in Dizzy's head clicked. She turned slowly to her best friend. She realized she was crying herself. “Okay,” she whispered.

Rosin looked up at the starry sky.

It was a nice night.

She reached into her wagon and procured the final keg. They were much easier to lift than they had been those years ago.

She set the keg down against the wall of the building.

The other two were either also against the walls, or in the cellar. Placing those had been the trickiest, but Rosin had a knack for sneaking in whatever environment.

She reached into the wagon. There were two final items.

The fuse.

It wasn't actually a very long fuse. Treating the string to burn reliably had not been easy. But it was long enough to clear her from the blast.

Besides, she wanted to be nearby anyways. This time, she wanted to see the black powder in action.

About half a mile away stood a tall gray boulder. This was where she had placed her device.

She doubted she would need it. But it had been too risky to carry about while conducting the operation.

She looked around, then nodded.

Nopony had seen her. Ponyville was sound asleep, save for the inhabitants of the club.

A few minutes ago, one of the inhabitants had left, but she was nopony of consequence. She went back inside, anyways.

Just now, a sobbing green unicorn had run off as well. But she, too, was of no import.

Doctor Scratch was inside.

Rosin hesitated, then took out the other item in the wagon. A bucket of stolen lamp oil. She set to pouring this over the walls and—with a bit of difficulty—the roof.

What wasn't obliterated in the blast would burn.

She looked the club over.

There was no turning back now.

She placed the fuse, and began trailing it away.

She did not go far.

Then she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a single match.

Once again, it all came down to this.

“You robbed the dragon.”

Crab wasn't even bothering to ask. It was a fact.

“I...” Smoky looked down. “Yes.”

“You did more than that. You foalnapped three hatchlings.”

“But—they won't be harmed!” Smoky said, her voice breaking. “I was told! Nobles favor them as pets, for their--”

Crab glared. He stood right before his close friend, and shouted at her. “I lied for you! Smith an' I, we lied, because you're our friend! What if we get caught?”

“I...” Smoky's eyes widened. “How? What?”

“Two guards came here today,” Crab said. His voice had dropped to a quieter level, but his tone remained furious. “The eggs were on this farm, at some point. They cast a spell.”

“I...oh.” Smoky had gone a bit pale. She leaned on the rock pile. “I see. Of course. They must have known the guards had that spell. They knew I'd fall under suspicion, covering their tracks.”

“'They'? Smoky, who in Celestia's name is 'they'?”

“A...the ones who bought them.” Smoky looked intently at her two front hooves. “Well, they won't find the eggs here. They won't catch us.”

“Yeah, until they find out we've got a teleportin' unicorn on the farm.” Crab waved a hoof at the orchards below. “We stand to lose everythin', Smoky. I hope it was worth it.”

“It...” Smoky hesitated. “It wasn't, Crab.”

Crab raised an eyebrow.

“It...well, first, they tricked me. A clever teleportation spell. I was out of my league. I got a few hundred bits out of it, certainly, but...well...”

“A hundred bits?” Crab's eyes widened.

“Don't sound so shocked. It should have been more, but--”

Crab snorted. “You get hundreds of bits out of this an' you're only angry you didn't get more?”

“Yes!” Smoky looked up at Crab, and he saw that she was crying. “Because I bucked up, Crab!”

Dizzy hopped off the barstool.

It was a simple act. But it caused Wraps to turn. And once Dizzy had her best friend's attention, it felt like it was truly solidified.

There was no going back.

Dizzy took a step toward Wraps. Reflexively, perhaps detecting Dizzy's anger, Wraps stumbled back.

“You know,” Dizzy spat, “I remember when we met. It was a really dark day. You were sitting alone by an old oak. You didn't have any friends, of course. I lived nearby. I felt sorry for you. So I brought you some cake from my birthday party. You saw my eyes and told me to get lost.”

Wraps blinked. “I...”

“I gave you the cake, and you said sorry later.” Dizzy rolled her eyes. “And when some bullies picked on me, you got me to help you get them expelled from school. It worked, too. You were always good at lies and cheats. If it was dishonest, you excelled in it.”

“Dizzy, why are you--”

“I thought you cared about me.” Dizzy stepped forward, glaring. “I thought you were—and you did care about me. But only because I brought you that slice of cake. Otherwise, I'm a freak, aren't I?”

Wraps stepped back, nearly tripping on a chair. “You aren't, Dizzy!”

“Yes, I am. Shouldn't you be making my life miserable?” Dizzy advanced on Wraps. “How can you live with yourself? How can I live with myself? I let this happen!”

“Dizzy!” Wraps was almost pleading now. “What's this about? Please, tell--”

“What's this about?” Dizzy jabbed Wraps in the chest. “It's about you and your...your crap, Wraps! All of it! I wish I'd poisoned that stupid cake! I should have known you'd turn out this...awful!”

The club was dead silent. Basalteus said nothing—perhaps caught by the same paralysis that had gripped Dizzy moments ago. He seemed very interested all of a sudden in the club window.

Dizzy pursued Wraps, until her friend was in the same corner Hairtrigger had been in moments ago. The salesmare was crying, as well. But Dizzy didn't care. She loomed over the tearful earth pony. “I'm done ignoring this, Undercut Wraps. You're done. We're done.”

Scratch chuckled.

Merry stared at the bartender. “What?”

Scratch gestured to the two feuding mares, smirking. “Looks like someponies have issues, is all. Some idiots just over-complicate things, don't they?” She reached up and lowered her shades. “Not like us, right?”

Merry looked at Scratch blankly.

She heard herself speak. Slowly, hollowly, but very surely.

“I...don't love you.”

Scratch's red eyes blinked. Once, twice.

“I never did.”

There were a lot of bottles around Merry, but her head felt clearer than it had all day. “You're an awful pony. How can you laugh at something this horrible?”

Scratch blinked. She reached to put her shades back on.

“No! Damn it!” Merry's arm shot out, and she snatched the shades. She put them on the counter, raised her whiskey bottle, and brought it down on the sunglasses with all her might.

Once, twice.

On the third swing, the bottle shattered. Merry tossed the broken remnants away. “You aren't going to hide!” She was shouting. “Every time, you hide behind those stupid sunglasses, because you think if we can't see your eyes, we won't know who you really are! But I know! I have to deal with you every! Single! Day!”

Scratch closed her eyes and rubbed them with a hoof, as if trying to wake from a bad dream. Merry grabbed the hoof and forced it down. “Look me in the eye! I know exactly what you are!”

Scratch stared at Merry like she was staring down a crossbow barrel.

“You are a horrible pony! You think you're better than everypony--”

She heard Basalteus say something, but ignored it.

“--but you aren't! You're no more than a pathetic, insecure little--”

“Look out!”

Those were the last words Merry heard.

Then there was a boom, a flash, and...nothing.

Basalteus watched the proceedings grimly. Dizzy was fighting with Wraps. Merry was looking increasingly frustrated with Scratch.

Half of him wanted to go after Hairtrigger, to help her. But he had a feeling he'd be needed here.

Basalteus was a very perceptive pony.

Of everypony in the room, he was the only one to hear the thump outside.

Something heavy had been placed against the wall.

Frowning, he glanced out the window.

He didn't see anypony.

He glanced back at the others. They hadn't noticed. Merry was shouting at Scratch now.

Basalteus closed his eyes and sighed. This is my fault...

He glanced outside again...and noticed something that had not been there before.

A white length of twine. It stretched from the building—or beneath the window, anyways—beyond.

Basalteus looked closer. His night vision was fairly good, thanks to some time spent in caves, and he noticed after a moment that the twine was moving.

More accurately, it was being placed by a strange pony only a short ways off.

Basalteus felt a feeling of extreme forboding. He glanced at the others again. They were still arguing with each other.

He looked back. The pony had finished placing the twine. They were fiddling with something...

...which ignited.

Basalteus's eyes widened. “...oh dear.”

He glanced quickly between the lit match in the distance and Dizzy, who was currently shouting down the cowering Wraps.

“She is hurting, and you try to claim that you--”

“Dizzy.”

Dizzy either ignored him, or simply didn't hear. “--are better than her? Just because she has some serious problems?”

“I—Dizzy, please, I never--”

“I hate myself because of you! Because of--”

The match struck the twine.

It began burning.

Very, very quickly.

“Dizzy,” he repeated, louder.

He heard Dizzy sob. “I—I can't even blame you! I've just been friends with you for—for so long--”

“Dizzy!” Basalteus shouted. "Look out!

The twine led right by Dizzy's corner.

Basalteus turned and leaped, as the flame passed out of his view—somewhere very, very close to the building. He grabbed his friend and threw her clear.

Then, he heard a hiss.

The club exploded.

Dizzy opened her eyes, and leaped away as a beam fell.

She looked around, coughing. Smoke obscured her vision. An awful acrid smell she didn't recognize competed with the smoke for ruination of the air she needed to breathe.

The building was wrecked and on fire. Parts of the floor had been demolished, showing the cellar beneath—which was now flooding from the destruction of several key pipes. Two of the walls had been utterly obliterated, including the one she'd been standing by.

And Wraps lay on the floor nearby. A huge beam had fallen on her.

“Oh, no,” Dizzy whispered. She ran over, dodging flaming debris. Behind her, she heard Scratch screaming for help, but she didn't hear.

Wraps was unconscious and bleeding. A stray bit of brick from the fireplace had hit her in the head, in addition to the beam crushing her.

Dizzy struggled with the beam, but it was too heavy. “Please!” she cried. “Somepony! Help!”

“Dizzy!” she heard Basalteus shout. “Get the others out of there!”

“Where are you going?” Dizzy shouted. She stuck her head under the beam, trying to get her back beneath for extra leverage.

She missed some of what Basalteus said as a part of the ceiling caved in. “...the perpetrator!”

Dizzy let out a grunt of pain as she stood, lifting the beam off of Wraps. With difficulty, she kicked her friend out of the way, then scrambled out from under.

She looked around again.

What had a moment ago been no more than a large building filled with heated words and raging emotions had turned into a heated and raging bonfire.

Crab stepped back, stunned. He had never seen Smoky this vulnerable.

“I--” Smoky shook herself. “I didn't want to steal them! It's just...I mean, money's not a problem for me, but your farm—and Dizzy's been having so much trouble—I wanted to help! There was so much! I...I let myself think of the dragon as just another beast. And...well, I didn't really plan it, but it—it happened! I snuck in, and I cast the spell, and there was no turning back!”

Crab blinked.

“I mean...” Smoky muttered, “...I regretted it the moment after. But what could I do? I almost told the dragon right then, when I saw her crying, but...it wasn't...well, she would have killed us all!” She looked Crab in the eye. “But I haven't even used a cent of this! It feels...it feels like, if I don't spend it, I can still take it back. I can still pretend I didn't do it. But I did, and this horrible feeling isn't going to leave, and--”

She stopped. The unicorn frowned. “I think I smell--”

Crab heard an explosion come from the south.

Crab and Smoky both turned, and they saw a grim sight: smoke.

“Oh, no,” Smoky whispered. “We have to--”

Crab took off running.

Smoky hesitated. Then her horn glowed, her hooves flashed, and she started running.

Basalteus tore off after the fleeing mare.

Now that he was outside, he could make out her features more distinctly. She had similar coloration to his, but a bit darker, grimmer. Her mane was short and ragged.

His hat had fallen off long ago, of course. And his hooves were bleeding from the glass he'd trodden on. The explosion itself had taken him down, but only for a moment—Basalteus had been up the next second.

He could only hope Dizzy could handle the rescue. She was a clever mare.

He was faster than the mare.

The mare seemed to notice that, because she was slowing down as she approached a large boulder. Basalteus recognized it—he'd been meaning to have it broken down and transported for some time.

He put on a burst of speed. If the mare was slowing down, she had to have a backup plan. He had to catch up before--

The mare darted behind the boulder. Basalteus ran faster still. Faster than he'd run since the incident with the timber wolves.

Then the mare stepped back into view. She held in her hooves a strange club-like metal device.

Basalteus frowned. Parts of it were glowing green.

Then the mare raised it like a crossbow and fired.

Twice.

Hairtrigger saw the gray stallion fall, eyes wide.

The mare advanced, placing what looked like bullets into the device.

Hairtrigger hesitated. Then she started running.

The mare was raising the device to fire again when Hairtrigger hit her.

The strange mare was bigger, but Hairtrigger had enough momentum to send her target flying.

She glanced back at the burning building.

Then she looked back at the perpetrator, eyes narrowed. “Alright. Let's--”

The gray mare leaped to her feet and fired.

Hairtrigger leaped out of the way of the first bullet.

She was less lucky with the second.

It clipped her hind leg, and she fell with a cry.

Rosin Wheel began reloading the double-barreled rifle again.

She had not expected a pursuit, but she'd placed the gun for a reason.

She prepared to fire again at the newcomer...then stopped. She looked over, frowning.

The stallion was still moving. He had two bullets in his side, but he was still moving.

He was getting up.

“That...” the stallion growled, “...will not suffice.”

He leaped at Rosin.

He seemed to understand the rules of a scrap. But so did Rosin. She ducked under, swinging her rifle like a club.

Then she realized that the leap had been a feint. The stallion grabbed the rifle from her.

He was stronger, certainly.

Rosin jumped back, trying to put some distance between her and the newly-armed enemy.

But he did not seem intent on firing her weapon.

Instead, with a grim warcry, he charged.

Rosin fell to the side, and tried to pull a spin and a kick.

She felt her hind leg freeze in place. She looked around, and spotted the green unicorn. Her horn was glowing, as she glared at Rosin.

Rosin fell, but was already rolling. She would--

Then the gray stallion raised the rifle, and brought it down on her head.

She crumpled. She rolled over—more to see the face of her killer than out of any intent to win now. She couldn't make herself move any more than the vain roll she'd managed. It hurt just to keep her eyes open.

Her killer raised the rifle again, and brought it down on her again.

And again, and again.

Until the unicorn intervened, limping over and grabbing the rifle away with magic.

And by then, the eyes of Rosin Wheel had long since closed.

Merry had fallen through a hole into the cellar. Scratch was hanging down, trying to reach her. “Please!” she cried. “Somepony, help!”

Dizzy looked between the unconscious Wraps and the helpless unicorn.

She grabbed her friend—or former friend?--by the arms and dragged her away. The entrance was right there.

With a final heave, she swung Wraps around and shoved her outside.

Then she hesitated. Wraps really needed to be clearer of the burning building.

“Please!”

Dizzy turned and ran to Scratch. Already, she was hearing shouts from outside. The rest of the town were coming to help.

Dizzy hesitated, looking down. Merry was lying on the floor of the basement, bleeding from a cut in her head. Scratch didn't look very good either, but at least she was conscious.

Dizzy struggled. She couldn't lift a fully-grown earth pony.

She looked at Scratch.

Then she looked at Merry.

“Scratch,” she said, “blast the ground right here.” She beat the floor with a hoof.”

Scratch looked up. “What? Are you--”

“Do it!”

Red eyes met gold ones.

Scratch's horn glowed, and a blast of flame appeared in the air and hit the indicated point.

The building creaked...

And the floor beneath Dizzy and Scratch collapsed.

They fell about ten feet, and landed beside Merry.

“Blast up!” Dizzy shouted. “Now!”

Scratch looked dubious. But she also looked desperate. She looked up, and obeyed.

A blast of flame flew toward the ceiling just as one of the timbers gave way. The blast cut through it, and both pieces fell on either sides of the three ponies.

“Okay,” Scratch said, “we're down here. We're safe for the next fifteen seconds. Now what, genius?”

“I...” Dizzy looked around. “I'm not sure.”

Crab leaped off the hill, fell, and landed mid-run on the path.

He was among the trees now. But all he could see was that burning building.

The club.

The club Merry spent all her life at.

He couldn't understand how panicked he was. It might not have even been the club. The club was the largest building, but he hadn't gotten a very clear look. Besides, what remained of whatever building it was wasn't very recognizable.

But Crab was panicking. He bolted down the path.

Sweet Apple Acres did not have quite so many acres to its name as it would someday in the distant future.

But it was still very large.

The distance was very great.

He heard Smoky running behind him. He wasn't sure how she was keeping pace, but he didn't care. The houses were coming into view now. He could smell smoke, mixed with an acrid smell he recognized from Smoky's wagon.

Black powder, Smoky called it.

Somepony had tried to blow up Merry's club.

“Crab!” he heard Smoky shout. “Moment...you get...arrive...say yes....if nopony...inside ground level...”

Despite Smoky's surprising speed, she was clearly having trouble breathing.

Crab nodded—not that Smoky could see it. He ran.

And there it was. The club. Burning uncontrollably. The smell was enough to make Crab gag.

A line of townsfolk had established a bucket brigade, led by the Mayor, but they seemed panicked.

“It isn't working!” Stinkin' Rich shouted. “Some sort of oil!”

Crab leaped over the heads of the ponies and landed at the doorway, ignoring the extreme heat. He looked inside.

“Yes!” he shouted, as loudly as he could manage. Between the smoke and the exertion, he was having trouble breathing now.

“Hold...breath!” Smoky shouted back.

He heard the chimes of unicorn magic at work, and took a deep and painful breath.

He felt wind rushing all around him. His ears rang. Everything was suddenly very cold, and very dark. He felt something dragging him inside...

Then it stopped. The light returned to the world. The fire was gone.

In the distance, he spotted Basalteus and a unicorn he didn't recognize carrying to the town a third figure between them.

He heard Dizzy down below, shouting for help.

Crab looked at the crowd of confused ponies filing in to oblige.

He looked at the Mayor and several others heading to meet Basalteus.

He looked at Smoky. He suddenly felt like just closing his eyes, collapsing, and sleeping for a year.

He shrugged.

Smoky shrugged back at him.