Rarity and Pinkie Pie stopped by the library for a visit. Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack were already there. The ponies had been coming by for weeks now, ostensibly to gossip, but really to follow the news of the strange occurrences in Hoofington. All had heard the disturbing phonograph recording, save for Fluttershy who did not ask, and had not been asked to.

Dash asked Twilight had gotten any news yet today. She had not, the imbecilic mail pony had not yet made her rounds. However, Twilight had received a message the day before, and things had gotten worse.

“One of his dogs was killed,” Twilight said.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Fluttershy.

“What?” asked Dash, “How did it happen?”

“Professor Martingale says that the dog was shot,” Twilight answered.

“Shot?” they all asked, stunned?

Twilight nodded. “He thinks some of the townsponies are helping... whoever it is that’s been attacking his house. He said that he used to call them spies, but now they’re more like traitors, or slaves. He doesn’t even go into Hoofington proper anymore, he says they all stare straight at him when ever he comes near. He skirts the town, going the long way around to get to Saddleboro, where he sends the messages. And he only goes in the middle of the day, when there’s plenty of light. He says he keeps going there to pick up more dogs and ammunition when he sends the messages. The ponies who run the kennel must think he’s nuts.

“Any way, he thinks a few in the town have joined with his attackers. He said they called out to him in the night, to try to negotiate with him. He said they spoke in the Hoofington vernacular, but that it sounded like “they” were telling them what to say. They kept using words that were too big for the locals to be using. He thought it was the erudite pony from the phonograph telling them what to say. Or maybe that other voice.

“He didn’t answer back to the voices. And after awhile the voices just stopped. That’s when the dogs started barking again. It was real loud, louder than it had ever been before. As if whatever it was had been getting closer than it had before. One of the dogs actually leapt out the window. Through the window, actually breaking it. That’s when the shooting started. They shot the dog and killed it. So he started firing back with his big game rifle. He couldn’t see what he was shooting, it was pitch black out and he had all his lights on the inside. He wanted to get a whole flood light system set up for his house, but he couldn’t find the time or the help to do it.

He said he just kept standing there in the window firing into the darkness. He made a perfect target, but he said he didn’t care anymore if they killed him because he loved his dog. They fired back but somehow they missed him. He thinks he hit one of them, because there was a scream and the shooting stopped. About half an hour later the dogs stopped barking, as if whatever it was had gone away. The sun came up soon after.

There weren’t any bodies outside, save for his dog, which he had gone outside to bury. He found a pool of blood though, and tracks that looked like somebody had dragged a body away.”

She stopped the description of the letter she had received the day before.

None of the other ponies spoke. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Not pony tracks,” Twilight added. “The other kind. From the photographs.”

Fluttershy whimpered.

That’s when Spike made his entrance from the loft above. He had been eavesdropping, of course. He had read the letter himself the day before, and while perturbed, sought to cheer the pony some, Rarity in particular.

“You know, ladies, what we could do is...,” Spike’s tail began to twitch. It began striking the floor rapidly, in a series of intervals, some long, some short. “Oh god, not again,” he added, “I hate it when this happens.”

“Here we go, girls,” Twilight said, walking around Spike to intercept the message, “it’s a telegraph.”

Spike reached his arm into this throat, and pulled out a long thin piece of paper. Spike left his fanged mouth open, and continued to pull the tape as Twilight read it too the listeners.

APPRECIATE THE OFFER BUT IT IS TOO LATE TO HELP STOP DO NOT COME TO HOOFINGTON STOP IT WOULD ONLY MAKE MATTERS WORSE STOP PLEASE RETURN ALL PHOTOGRAPHS RECORDS AND IDOL TO ME AT SADDLEBORO ADDRESS STOP I WILL EXPLAIN LATER WAIT FOR MORE INFORMATION STOP MARTINGALL

Twilight let the tape fall as the message ended.

“I’m going to be sick,” Spike said, “if you need me, I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“I haven’t got the idol,” Twilight said. “Why does he think I have the idol? All I have are the photographs and the recording. And why does he want me to send back everything that I do have? This doesn’t make any sense.”

Pinkie walked over and picked up the telegraph tape. “Girls,” she said, “This isn’t how you spell Martingale.” She always had a sharp eye for letters.

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