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The tall buildings of Canterlot made Sweetie feel even smaller than she normally did in Ponyville. She couldn't help but gasp in wonderment and curiosity at how everything was so much faster moving than out in the country environment. She couldn't say that she hated that idea of not slowing down; she didn't like the idea of having to learn to follow in their hoof-steps for the next two years. Everything was so ear-splittingly loud; the roar of the manticore was drowned out by the mess of sound. Everything Sweetie could smell was dirty or stinky, nothing fresh. She had witnessed a pedestrian pony almost get struck by a wagon going too fast to stop properly. After that, she didn't want to leave Rarity's constantly moving side. She was talking excessively about the shops that she knew or had been to, but why would Sweetie want to listen to her going on about that? Only a few pieces of information were really needed.

"And this is the school that you would be attending for your higher studies. Well, what do you think?" Rarity's voice cut through the clouds of the daydream with ease with its shrillness. For once, Sweetie was beginning to see how annoying that voice could be. It no longer brought up a feeling of joy, but instead brought up resentment. Maybe Sweetie was silent throughout the trip up here past Ponyville train station, but harsh words rocketed through her mind with how much betrayal she was feeling now.

"I think this place is dangerous. Didn't you see that pony almost get hit by that wagon?" Sweetie asked her sister in a tone that was between a child's quality and dark, gritty anger.

"Oh, that happens all the time. Maybe ponies should watch where they are going. I better not find you in the hospital after such an accident." Rarity shrugged off Sweetie's question.

Was that all she had to say? Did lives even mean anything to Rarity?

Sweetie looked up at her new school and was appalled by what she saw. No wood, barely any windows allowed light to filter inside. "It looks like a prison."

Rarity obviously didn't like that comment from the skunk eye Sweetie saw out of the corner of her eye.

BANG, BANG, BANG!!!

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The echoing sound of metal being struck interrupted the dream. Why would some pony want to bang on that metal hatch? Hitting that with such force could hurt them. Maybe break a few bones before she got to them for waking her up. Of course, after she had hugged them with a passion for getting her out of that horrifying memory pile of rotten vegetables. Dreamswere very evil. In this world, everything could be pretty much evil. Maybe that was why she wanted to break this pony's hoof for waking her up from an evil dream. They were just being evil too. Right?

BANG! BANG! BANG!

From the sound of the frantic pounding, they were in a hurry. Maybe she should take a bit more time to prove to them that they could wait a few seconds for her to get over to the door and open it. But she couldn't do that; it would be mean. Unless it was an infected, then she could smash the door into their necks, cracking the vertebrae and see them die right there on the spot. Though that might be a bit quick for them to go.

But they were still sentient ponies, so was thinking this way even right?

Sweetie didn't notice that she was moving towards the door absentmindedly. Well, that was a way to choose what to do next, congrats to involuntary movement.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Shut up!" she shouted at the door. She had to stop herself from taking another step. What about her mask? Maybe the parasite fog was still out there and this pony wanted her to make a morning stupor mistake. Well, she was too smart for that. She used her magic to bring the lifesaver over to her and to strap it onto her face.

BANG! BANG!

Sweetie had no idea what she would do if they struck that door one more time. Sweetie thought about what punishment would fit the annoyance of this. Why would it even have to be something with death? To everypony else it was only about death and survival. Didn't they find the irony in that? She grabbed the hoof pistol while she thought about punishment.

She marched over to the doorway and threw it open in a blind anger. "What!!!?" She shouted in Lyra's face. The green mare seemed unaware of Sweetie's anger, and she continued banging on the now open door. BANG! BANG! BANG! Sweetie could feel her blood pressure rising and was betting on how much steam was whistling out of her ears.

Then she heard the strange humming of Lyra laughing. It wasn't a happy laugh, but one that was scraped dry like the sand on the beach. It was…just dry. "You get angry far too quickly, Sweetie. That could cause you to lose sight of the goal that's right in front of your muzzle." Lyra spoke like a mare teaching to her foal the values of life. How young did Lyra think she was? "Why are you still wearing that mask? You haven't realized it yet, but I'm standing outside without one. The fog has moved on to look for other ponies, so it's safe to take that off. Unless it's a new fashion statement; I haven't been keeping up on the latest fads after the first time I almost got eaten."

No, Sweetie had never noticed that. And she was the one who paid attention to details and her surroundings. Good going, smart one.

Lyra curled her brow as she shook her head. "How did you even survive walking all the way to Ponyville from Canterlot? It was Canterlot you were sent to, right? That school that wasn't as good as the one that Celestia had started. Oh well, I can't remember."

Oh, what a punch to face, and Sweetie felt it alright. Maybe she should fire the gun nonchalantly at the mare's hoof…Click…nope, it was out of bullets.

"And then you allow your anger to, once again, control your actions and thoughts to try and shoot me in the hoof, right? I heard that click and it revealed another mistake of yours. You just showed me that you have no ammo to protect yourself. I also see that you have no melee weapon, and I do," She showed Sweetie that same long piece of wood she had seen yesterday. "You would be in a pickle if I was infected."

Sweetie couldn't hold back the boiling hot question that she felt she had to say to try and get the information. "Why are you acting like a master of survival, and treating me like a foal?" She had not been here even a day and Lyra was acting like she was the queen of the town. Was she really and master of survival, or the fool in a costume?

She could see Lyra's eyes just cloud over and her body language started to become more rapid like she couldn't stay still: maybe she had something stuck to the bottom of her foot. It was an awkward silence for a while before the green mare said anything in the form of a question back to Sweetie. "Do you know anything about sacrifice?"

What type of question was that? "Yeah I do. I've watched my best friend die right in front of me…"

"That's not sacrifice, that is loss." Lyra interrupted Sweetie. "Maybe you haven't had to choose to let somepony you care about become infected because of a mistake you, yourself, made. With loss, you had no place to choose. Which do you think is more difficult to live with?" Lyra brought her forelimb up onto Sweetie's shoulder. SKIN! Sweetie promptly jumped from under her caress. Lyra was obviously confused but none-the-less let it go. "You are still young. Thirteen years can come and go so fast. I am getting older and older, while you're still young and beautiful. When I first saw you come into town. I could believe that I could help you get in the right direction."

"I don't need another Rarity." Sweetie promptly said. No one could take her place. But she betrayed her. What was the right thinking for this? Was Rarity a good sister or not?

"Of course. But think of me as not Rarity, but as Lyra." Lyra gave another forced creepy smile.