The jangle of the bell distracted Spike from cataloguing the torn pages and collapsing spines of the pile of worn-out books stacked neatly in front of him. Quickly cleaning off his quill, he trotted out of the back room into the main library to see a pale-yellow Unicorn stallion looking around with great interest. Far more interest than if he's just come in looking for Fifty Shades of Hay, or Of Mice and Mares, Spike thought sourly.

“Can I help you?”

The stallion jumped, and whirled around to fix him with a wide smile. “Hey there, little guy! You're Spike, aren't you?”

Oh, great – and he's got a camera. He was willing to be that his new best friend had a notebook and press pass tucked away in those saddlebags of his, too. “Can I help you?” he asked again pointedly.

“I was hoping to speak to Twilight Sparkle, actually.”

Spike remained stony-faced. “She's out.”

“And do you know when she'll be back?” he asked, still oozing fake charm.

Creep. Spike channelled his inner Big Macintosh. “Nope.”

“Oh, that's all right. I don't mind waiting.”

Spike crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. “Then you can wait someplace else. We're not a train station, here.”

“No, but you are a library. Maybe a good book is just what I need to kill some time?”

“We're closed.”

Finally, the stallion's winsome smile slipped. “You're kinda making this difficult, friend.”

“Good. I'm not your friend, now tell your story walking; the door's that way.”

The smile disappeared entirely. “You know what? I tried being nice. If you don't want to play ball, that's fine, but this is a public library – says so right outside – and I'm a member of the public. So I'm going to do some library-ing, and there's not a darn thing you can do about it.”

Spike ground his teeth, but the irritating Unicorn almost had a point – plus, the second he stepped out to get reinforcements he'd be willing to wager that his foe would be rooting through anything and everything he could get his hooves on. So all he could do was glare disapprovingly as the stallion walked slowly around the shelves, pondering loudly.

“Hmm...what to do, what to do? Geography? Geology? Geomancy? Geometry? Gee, don't you have anything interesting in this place?” He stopped and plucked a tome out of its pristinely-organised shelf. “Graze Anatomy – A Descriptive and Surgical Manual for Ungulates – an interesting book to keep out here where the foals can see it, don't you think?”

Spike couldn't stop himself. “The Foals' section is right over there. Try it, you might find something about your level.”

“Aren't you a little short to be making those sorts of gags, junior?” the stallion fired back, unperturbed. “Horology – Holistic Hoof Health? What a crock!”

With a growl of frustration, Spike stomped over to the counter and started sorting through the returns. Unfortunately, that didn't occupy him for long as he'd only finished marking off the loan records and reshelving yesterday ahead of Twilight's return. In fact, about the only task he had left to complete was writing up the books that needed replacing. With a loud sigh designed to catch the visitor's attention, he returned to the back room and closed the door behind him leaving just enough of a gap to see out. The trap was set.

He watched carefully through the crack around the door-jamb as the reporter rattled books and generally made enough noise to sound like he was well and truly occupied and sure enough, after a few unconvincing minutes' browsing the shelves the Unicorn drifted quietly around the room and, with a quick glance around, crept up the stairs on tip-hoof. Easing the door open, Spike followed him.

As he expected, he found the stallion in the spare room, camera clicking rapidly as he rifled through the drawers. I can see the headlines now – 'Twilight Sparkle Cross-Dressing as Royal Guard! Exclusive!' He coughed loudly and the guilty stallion jumped, losing control of his camera and fumbling it to the floor. Seeing that he'd been well and truly rumbled, he smoothed his mane back with one forehoof and tried to play it cool.

“OK, you got me, it's a fair cop. Can't blame a guy for trying, though, right?”

Spike advanced into the room and circled left, forcing the stallion to back up but leaving the door clear. He could feel the old heat rising inside him, making the lateral scales on his neck flare and the choanae at the back of his throat start to close as his fire ducts opened. His voice took on a guttural rumble, “Get. Out.”

The stallion held up a placating hoof. “Look, if you'll just-”

“I said – get out, before I make you regret it!” Spike barked, balling his fists.

“Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try!”

That did it. With a deep breath, Spike spat a concentrated lance of white-hot fire across the room. The stallion let out a high-pitched scream and scuttled backwards, saucer-eyed in horror at the hissing, boiling puddle of black goop on the floor which was all that remained of his camera.

“What? Did I stutter?” Spike demanded, batting a tendril of smoke away from his muzzle with a sharp gesture. “I said, beat it!”

The stallion exploded into a dead sprint, launching himself head-first down the stairs and crashing out through the door.

Watching him go, Spike sighed and prodded the congealing puddle with a claw. “Great. It's going to take forever to get that off the floor.”

Ignoring the grumbling of her stomach, Junebug wrestled the canvas cover down over her cart and dropped the little wooden sign on top; Back in 1 hour. With the lunch hour rush over with, she knew that she would have time to grab some food of her own and take a break, but instead of doing her own shopping she snatched up a muffin and trotted through the crowds, eating on the hoof.

The lights behind the window were off, and the sign on the door still proclaimed it as closed. She felt a flicker of anger at the shadows of the cruel words still visible despite the efforts of the hooves which tried to scrub their slurs away. Those words were an even greater mockery now, and she felt with a surge of vindictiveness the hope that they would remain branded in their place as a reminder to set the culprits afire with renewed humiliation every time that they walked past. Enough. That's not what you're here for.

The sound of her knocking echoed through the empty stalls inside, but there was no sign of noise or movement. After a moment, she sighed in defeat. Please, Celestia, tell me that she hasn't done anything foolish! But how long do I leave her? What do I do? Opening her mouth, she called up the upstairs window. “Come on, Summer, I know you're in there. I just wanted to make sure that you're OK. Please come down?”

But the curtain did not more, and there was no movement or sound from inside. Finally, irresolute, she turned away. If she doesn't want to see me, I can't force her. But... I hope she's OK.

Reaching the end of the lane, her pace increased as she decided on her new destination; an undistinguished little flat on the east side of town. This time, her knock was answered almost immediately by a pale-green Pegasus with a greying blonde mane.

“Oh, hallo Junebug!” the mare exclaimed, her face falling into the well-worn creases of a smile. “I was hoping we might see you. Thank you so much for writing, Cres and I came as soon as we could. But here I am, keeping you on the doorstep – come in, come in!”

The green mare turned away into the cramped lounge, calling out, “Cloudy? Junebug's here, darling.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Cloud Kicker poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hi, June! I thought you were working today?”

The mare was neatly groomed but her face was drawn and she looked uncharacteristically run-down, her usual vivaciousness missing. Behind her, Crescent Moon waved over his daughter's shoulder. Junebug smiled at him. “The lunchtime rush is over, so I'm taking a bit of a break. I just went past Summer's place, actually. She's still not answering, but I was hoping maybe you'd seen her?”

“No. Not since, since...” Cloud Kicker bit her lip, her face grim. “I think this has gone on long enough. Inglenook must have a spare key somewhere, so if she won't come out we should go in. She can't hide in there forever.”

“You're probably right,” Junebug said reluctantly. “I just don't want to intrude, you know? I have a feeling that if she wanted us-”

“I don't know about wanting you two, but it sounds like a question of needing you. If you really haven't seen her for days, anything could have happened,” Cloud Kicker's mother interjected gently.

“I think that's me outvoted, then,” said Junebug with a short, nervous smile. “Are you coming with us, Skywriter?”

The green mare nodded. “I think I might, if nopony minds. I don't want to intrude, but if there's anything I can do for the poor filly I'd be happy to help.”

“Fine. Cres, what about you?”

“Oh, I'll stay here and mind the fort,” Crescent Moon said in his quiet, mild voice. “I don't want to crowd her with ponies, let alone ones she doesn't know.”

“That's settled, then,” Cloud Kicker said determinedly, setting off for the door.

“Before we, do, though,” Junebug said hurriedly, “Before we do, there's something I wanted to ask you, Cloudy – how are you holding up?”

Cloud Kicker stopped but didn't turn around. After a moment she spoke, her voice unsteady. “I keep telling myself that it'll get easier. But either way, I know that I can't just sit around here. I can't hide myself away and feel sorry for myself. I-if I do, it will just get harder and harder to get out of that rut and get on with my life. I'm a grown mare with responsibilities, and I intend to live up with them. Now please, can we get a move on before I embarrass myself any further?”

Junebug saw the deeply-concerned look that Skywriter shot her before she answered. “Of course. I'm sorry, Cloudy, I didn't mean to upset you.”

Cloud Kicker let out a shaky sigh. “I know. You're a good friend, June. Come on – we'll see you later, Dad.”

There was no mistaking Skywriter's look as they followed Cloud Kicker outside and down the street. We'll talk later.

The door to Summer's landlord's house swung open at their knock with a shimmer of magic, but there was no pony behind it to greet them. Instead, Inglenook waved at them from across the room where he sat tucked up in a blanket in his favourite chair next to the fireplace, knitting with the gramophone on low and the sun streaming in through the window in front of him. The ancient Unicorn stallion looked rather befuddled at so many visitors, but nodded at their request and slowly extracted himself from the tangle of blankets and skeins of wool and shuffled off deeper into the house, muttering to himself in puzzlement, “I know I put that key somewhere safe, now where was it...?”

It was hard to look around and not notice the layer of dust and grime that had settled on the shelves and mantelpiece despite the old pony's best efforts. That those surfaces were all crowded with little knick-knacks and photo frames probably didn't help, but she suspected that he simply didn't see very well any more. She wondered if he wouldn't be better off in the old ponies' home on the outskirts of the village, but this was his home and his routine, and perhaps taking him from it would be a shock that he wouldn't survive. So instead he sat each day and knitted, a fire permanently lit to keep his old bones warm, and with help and firewood and the occasional meal from his neighbours he lived out his dotage on his own terms. And that can't be a bad thing for the dear old duffer.

The minutes stretched out, and she found herself watching the progress of his life captured in photographs which spanned nearly fifty years. Inglenook in the full flush of youth, a demure young mare at his shoulder, smiling shyly at the camera. Tack styles and clothing became more modern and the black-and-white pictures gave way to colour as they traced the years forward until they suddenly stopped. She knew why – fifteen years it had been, now, since Honeysweet went upstairs for a mid-afternoon nap. Fifteen years since the aneurysm took her, leaving Inglenook alone with his memories. At least he has those memories. You are both alone, but what do you have? What will you remember when you are his age?

She shook her head, trying to clear the melancholy thoughts from her mind as he shuffled back in, the key dangling triumphantly in front of him. “In the tin behind the tea bags, I knew I'd find it!” he announced happily.

“Thank you, Inglenook. I'm really sorry to have bothered you, but we're getting quite worried about Summer,” said Cloud Kicker, as she and her mother settled the old stallion back in his chair and made sure everything was close to hoof. “We shouldn't be too long.”

“She's a good filly,” said Inglenook fondly. “She brings me ginger cake and has tea with me, sometimes. It's always nice to have company.” His smile dimmed slightly. “It's hard to believe that ponies have been picking on her. You tell her that I'm thinking of her, all right? Tell her that her friends know what's what, and that she isn't to worry. I'm sure it'll all be put to rights very soon.”

Junebug felt her face fall. He doesn't know. She glanced over at Cloud Kicker to see her looking very determinedly out the window, but Skywriter was there to fill the sudden silence. “I'm sure the girls will do just that. In fact, if you wouldn't mind some company, I could make you a cuppa while they go and see her? They'll need to return the key anyway, and I'm only tagging along.”

Inglenook perked up immediately. “Would you? Oh, that would be nice!”

Skywriter smiled at him. “I'd be happy to. No, it's all right, don't get up – if there's anything I can't find, I'll shout.” With that, she trotted out into the kitchen.

Junebug was painfully aware that Cloud Kicker was still lost in her own thoughts, and tried to extract herself with as much grace as possible. “Well, thanks again, Inglenook, we won't be long. Let's go, Cloudy.”

The salon was only a few doors away, but she was still surprised when Cloud Kicker abruptly took flight when they made it back outside. It made sense seconds later, as she came to a hover just outside Summer's upstairs window and beat a hoof on it. “Summer? It's me and Junebug – we're coming in, all right?”

With that, she returned to ground level and gave Junebug an expectant look. Shaking her head, Junebug unlocked the door and together they stepped inside. Passing quickly through the salon, they stepped through the curtain to the rear and she followed Cloud Kicker up the stairs. Reaching the landing at the top, Cloud Kicker slowed abruptly, forcing Junebug to sidestep her, but as she opened her mouth to ask why she noticed the smell. Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore the sudden frisson of dread and pushed open the door to the little attic room.

The scent that washed over them, stirred up by the gust of air from the movement of the door, nearly made her gag at the foul mixture of stale sweat, mud, and the rancid odour of putrefaction. “Summer?”

The humped mass of blankets on the bed moved slightly in the dim light which found its way through the thick curtains, and she forced herself to approach it across a floor littered with a strange mixture of Summer's belongings, some neatly and carefully boxed, some seemingly thrown down at random or kicked into heaps. She felt a strange sense of unreality as she reached out a hoof. “Summer?”

At her touch, the ball unwound a fraction to reveal Summer's head, the mane lank and dishevelled, the eyes unfocussed but bright with fever.

“Summer!” Cloud Kicker shoved Junebug aside and began to yank frantically on the stinking blankets. “Summer, what happened?!”

The mare that was revealed was a terrible sight, her coat soaked with sweat and matted with mud and burrs, but the rude awakening seemed to draw her back to the present. “Cloudy?” she croaked in confusion.

That voice, as dry as dust, sent Junebug leaping over to the little kitchen area at the opposite end of the attic to fetch her friend a drink. She returned to find Cloud Kicker attempting to sit her up, but when she accomplished this task Summer was shivering so badly that Junebug had to hold the mug for her while she drank greedily.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was improved, but still dull and bewildered.

“Looking for you, dummy!” Cloud Kicker said, smoothing damp strands of mane away from her face. “We hadn't seen you in ages, and we were starting to worry.”

Summer blinked and shook her head. “Uh... why, what day is it?”

Her tail twitched, and the movement drew Junebug's eye to a huge, turgid swelling on Summer's gaskin. It showed a sinister dark-green colour even through her grey coat, and dark lines stretched ominously away from it up to her flank and down almost past her hock. The swelling was surmounted by a circular wound, and from its suppuration the source of the dreadful smell became obvious. Junebug couldn't restrain a sharp gasp, and regretted it immediately.

“Summer! What happened to your leg?!” she exclaimed, but gave her no time to answer, instead rounding on Cloud Kicker. “Cloud Kicker, go and fetch a doctor,” she demanded, trying and failing to keep the panic out of her voice, “Now! You're faster than I am!”

“No! Wait!” Summer protested feebly. Cloud Kicker back away a step, her eyes darting between the two of them. “Please, Cloudy, don't.”

“Junebug?” the Pegasus asked uncertainly.

Junebug swallowed her instinct to scream at her to go and bent down close to Summer, trying to both reassure her and impress the gravity of her words. “Summer, that thing on your leg has gone really bad. You've got a raging fever, you're sweating buckets, and unless you get some help, this... this could go badly. What exactly are you worried about?”

“I-if you get a doctor... I don't want to go!” Summer sniffled, “They've been after me non-stop, banging on the door, shouting through the letter slot. All sorts, but I'm safe here. They can't get to me, but out there they'll find me, they'll tell everyone that I'm, I'm, uh-”

Junebug shook her head, trying to make sense of her friend's incoherent stream of words, “Who will? The reporters? The ponies from the village? Don't worry about them, Summer. This is serious, and your health is far more important than whatever nonsense they might come up with.”

“Please, don't!” Summer choked, her tears flowing freely now. “They'll take me away!”

“Summer, you have to have medical care. Right now. I promise you that we'll look after you, but this is an emergency and we must get you to a doctor. There is no alternative.”

“A-a-anything! Um, uh, Zecora! She's not a doctor!”

Junebug sat back, caught unawares at the strange suggestion, but the kernel of a plan was germinating in her mind. Perhaps there was a way to play along with Summer's feverish fears and get her into the hospital. The strange Zebra was no conventional doctor but she had a wide knowledge of herbal potions and medicines and she was by no means unreasonable. “Zecora? You'll let Zecora take a look at you?”

“Yes!”

“Well, okay, then. Tell you what; we'll get Zecora to come and examine you, but if she says that you need more help than she can give you, you have to let us take you straight to the hospital – deal?”

“Thank you!” Summer sobbed in relief. “Thank you! Don't let them take me away!”

Junebug smiled reassuringly at her, but turned away and led Cloud Kicker to the top of the stairs. “Please tell me that you know where Zecora lives?” she hissed in a harsh whisper.

Cloud Kicker ducked her head. “No, but I know a pony who does – and Rainbow Dash usually takes a nap in about the same place at this time of day,” she replied in the same tone.

“Then I hope to Celestia that she's there today! Look, go and find Zecora, and make sure you tell her everything. If we can get her on side ahead of time then with any luck we can get Summer to the hospital without wasting any more time. I don't like the look of that thing.”

Cloud Kicker swallowed nervously. “Me neither. Hang in there, June, I'll be as fast as I can.”

With that, the mare bolted down the stairs, and Junebug hurried back to the window to see a lavender-grey form streak into the sky. With an anxious sigh, she heaved it open to let fresh air into the room and smiled down at her stricken friend. “Would you like some more water, Summer?”

It was as much an exercise in keeping herself calm as it was in helping her friend, but feeding Summer sips of water and mopping her brow with a damp cloth at least helped to fill in some of the time while they waited. She kept an obsessive eye on the clock, both dreading the passage of time and willing it to go faster so that Cloud Kicker would return, and she fretted incessantly as Summer dropped back into a sort of drowse.

She had taken up a comb and was using it to coax the burrs and tangles from her friend's tail when she heard a muffled voice from downstairs.

“Junebug? Cloud Kicker?”

“Whazzat?” Summer asked in sleepy alarm.

“It's okay, that's Skywriter – Cloud Kicker's mum. I'll be back in a second.”

“OK.” That explanation seemed to suffice, and Summer's eyes drifted closed again.

With a deep breath, Junebug trotted quickly downstairs to let the Pegasus in – and to try to explain the situation. She needn't have worried, though, as Skywriter rose to the occasion magnificently. When they returned upstairs Skywriter walked straight up to Summer's bed without hesitating and sat beside her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hallo, Summer. Sorry for dropping in on you unannounced, but I was looking for my daughter. It looks like she's gone flying off on me again,” she said calmly, taking up the cloth from its bowl and wringing it out to pat across Summer's brow. She looked pointedly at Junebug and then at Summer's tail and, taking her cue, Junebug resumed her work with the comb. “It's a bit like a spa treatment, isn't it? Just relax for a while, we'll take care of you.”

It was an incredible relief to have another pony take the pressure off her by taking charge. Skywriter somehow managed to talk fluently about nothing very much, using her voice as soothing reassurance while they worked with their hooves. With Summer's tail and face done, they started moving down her body, cleaning off the mud and leaves while she drifted half-awake, shivering occasionally. They stayed well away from her injured leg but found many other scrapes and contusions on her body as they worked which they cleaned as gently and as best they could.

Finally, to Junebug's enormous relief, she heard galloping hooves approaching and peered out the window to see Cloud Kicker landing outside and a cloaked pony sliding to a halt beside her, bulging saddlebags across their back. She heard the rattle and slam of the door followed shortly after by panting ponies puffing their way up the narrow staircase. Cloud Kicker was the first to emerge, her wings spread to cool off.

“Hi, Mum,” she panted, seemingly unsurprised.

“Hallo, darling,” Skywriter said nonchalantly, like this was an everyday occurrence. “And I assume that you're Zecora?”

“Zecora am I, I heard of your need. For this stricken pony, I came with all speed.” The cloaked pony pulled back her hood to reveal that she wasn't really a pony at all.

Skywriter jumped at the sight of the striped face and beringed neck. “Uh... y-you're a Zebra?!”

“Mum!” Cloud Kicker hissed frantically.

Skywriter cringed. “Sorry! Sorry, it's just that I've never met a Zebra before, and... uh...”

Zecora just stared her down. “We Zebras are rare in these parts, it is true. But that is no call for you to be rude!”

Skywriter backed away, her head low, and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, that didn't quite come out right. Thank you for coming so quickly, and I'd be very grateful if you could help Summer in any way,” she said humbly.

Zecora's stern look softened as she walked towards the bed. “Cloud Kicker explained her friend's distress, and I could do nothing less. I heard her tale and-”

She broke off with a sharp hiss and uttered a string of syllables in a strange tongue, touching a hoof just below her right eye, then to her forehead, then to her heart. She whirled on them and reared, driving them back with the ominous words, “Back away, back away, if you have any wound, keep away, stay away, lest it be your doom!”

Cloud Kicker and Skywriter skittered nervously backwards, but Junebug's hooves seemed to have taken root. “W-what is it?” she asked, her voice wavering uncertainly.

“Corpse wasp!” Zecora snapped shortly, already wriggling out of her saddlebags to root through their contents more effectively. “Now, move!”

Junebug bolted the few steps to the far end of the room, where she watched the Zebra shed bundles of herbs and bottled lotions and strange-looking crystals and totems in the search for... well... whatever it was. The chosen items were quickly piled up on Summer's bedside table before Zecora galloped over to the kitchen area to rifle through the cupboards.

“Empty this, and act with haste,” she ordered peremptorily, shoving a large jam jar across the counter at Junebug who had to lunge in and juggle it before it hit the floor, “For we have no more time to waste!”

“Uh, do I...?” Junebug wanted to ask her whether she needed to clean or sterilise the jar, but the sight of the Zebra with a large and very sharp-looking knife clutched in her teeth encouraged her to hurry to the sink start scraping out the contents rather than argue the toss. She scrubbed frantically with the bottle brush, mentally cursing the dried, gummy residue around the rim, and after a nervous glance over her shoulder she decided that she had time to dry it as well. Her task done, she trotted over to put it with the rest of Zecora's chosen tools.

The shaman nodded gratefully at her without interrupting the rhythm of her near-silent chant as she shredded cloves of garlic between her hooves, dropping the pulp into a little carved wooden dish. Junebug backed away but kept watch, fascinated by the peculiar preparations. Zecora wiped the last of the garlic from her hooves and started pouring a viscous yellow oil from one of her vials into the dish, then some bright-yellow powder. Leaving the dish to one side, she peeled yet more garlic cloves with sharp blows of her hoof and gently started feeding them to Summer. Summer huffed and snorted a little at the burning, acrid taste, turning her head aside.

“Hush now, eat and do not make strife. I feed you this to save your life,” Zecora said in a tender near-whisper. “Be at peace, take ease, and do not fear. Your friends and I are very near.”

She continued feeding Summer slivers of garlic, interspersed with sips of milk from the kitchen jug.

Skywriter cleared her throat nervously. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Zecora looked up and gave the two scared Pegasi a reassuring smile. “To kindle fire in the hearth would be another step along the path. And a shallow pan, I must remember, to let me fetch a burning ember.”

While Cloud Kicker and her mother hurried to comply, Zecora checked her little dish of garlic and began setting candles out around Summer's bed. She grinned tightly when she caught Junebug watching her. “A ghost these candles would not fetter – but the ritual makes me feel much better!”

With that, she returned to her task, setting bunches of dried lavender on the bed and dabbing Summer's face and hooves with what smelled like clove oil before lighting the candles and scraping the burning kindling from the fireplace into a frying pan which she set down at Summer's bedside. Finally, her preparations complete, the Zebra turned the face the three other mares and took a deep breath. “Now I must ask for your strength and aid, to hold her in the spot she's laid. I hate to cause her so much pain, but it's the only way to extract this bane.”

“Can't you give her something to knock her out, or numb her somehow?” Cloud Kicker asked, looking sick.

“I have juice of the poppy, but if it reaches her marrow – its essence will cause the foul creature to burrow. So be strong, good ponies, use all your power. We must not delay another hour.”

She set them out around the bed, with Skywriter and her daughter each holding one hind leg while Junebug gripped her front legs awkwardly. When they were all in position, Zecora paused by Summer's head to touch her shoulder reassuringly. “Be brave, little mare, I hate to say, but this is surely the only possible way.” She took a deep breath and scooped up some of her garlic paste on one hoof. “Hold her.”

Junebug couldn't help but watch as the Zebra lowered her hoof and began to gently massage the paste into the area around the swelling. At the first touch of her hoof, Summer convulsed and let out a gasp, and Junebug instinctively tensed herself against the movement. Undeterred, Zecora scooped up more of the foul-smelling paste and continued her task, working ever-closer to the summit of the lump and oh my stars it's moving!

It was horrifying to have to pin her friend down like this, and worse to realise that Summer was trying to hold the limbs vibrating with tension in her grip as still as she could manage. Her teeth were clamped together, the lips drawn back in agony, but only the occasional grunt or strangled moan escaped. Tears poured from the stricken mare's eyes, and Junebug could feel her own tears tracking down her face in sympathy.

Finally, Zecora stopped and set her dish aside. Taking up the knife, she held it in the flame of the pan for a second and then drew it sharply over her own fetlock. Blood darkened her grey-and-black striped coat immediately, and she slapped a thick pad of gauze over it. When the gauze was thoroughly soaked, she carefully set it aside before holding the jar over the burning pan, the flames licking at the open end.

“Hold her,” she ordered again. Lifting the jar, she dexterously flicked the blood-soaked gauze inside it and pressed the open end firmly down over the swelling. Summer bucked in agony, a barely-strangled scream echoing around the room, and Junebug had to fight to hold her down. What in Celestia's name am I doing? This is wrong, this is cruel, oh, Summer! I'm so sorry!

The desperate struggle continued for nearly a minute until she heard Cloud Kicker moan, “Oh Goddess, I'm gonna be sick!”

Junebug turned her head towards the Pegasus but her eye was caught on the way by movement inside the jar clamped over Summer's gaskin. A pale-green insectoid head protruded from the wound, its mandibles working furiously as it struggled. Junebug stared, transfixed in horror, as the huge insect slowly wriggled its way out of the wound, the head followed by a thorax and finally a long, tapering abdomen. It sat there for a moment, its front legs cleaning the blood and unspeakable fluids from its head and slowly fanning its damp, wrinkled wings, before scuttling over to the gauze pad and starting to burrow its way inside. Once it was well entangled, Zecora moved like lightning to whip the jar away and screw the lid on tightly.

The Zebra let out a sigh of relief and carefully set the jar down on the table. “It is done. Release her, the worst is over.”

There was an abrupt clatter of hooves as Cloud Kicker bolted for the bathroom, and Junebug slowly eased up and dropped her aching front hooves back onto the floor. Zecora was cradling the sobbing mare's head and crooning soothingly at her, while at the foot of the bed Skywriter simply stood and stared at the nightmarish creature slowly sinking itself into the bloody gauze, appalled.

She swallowed twice, trying to force some moisture back into her mouth. “What is that thing, Zecora?”

“A parasite of distant lands, the jungle is its home. They seek living flesh to eat and breed and make their noisome home. If your hide be whole and healthy, they will let you pass on by. But if gashed and pierced they burrow in and start to multiply.”

“But how in Equestria did Summer come across it? There's no jungle here?” Skywriter asked in a shaky voice. “And how did you know?”

“I cannot guess for I have never heard of one found so far north, but praise to my wise old Shaman lord, who taught me much of worth. The symptoms I did not recognise until they were in my presence, but when I saw and smelled I realised that time was of the essence.

“But now you must watch over her, for I must fast depart. The wasp is drawn but the septic wound itself must still be lanced. I go now to fetch her medicines and analgesia for the pain – I must clear out pus and larvae or the cycle starts again.”

Junebug shivered. “We'll look after her,” she promised. “But before you go, you must let us bandage up that fetlock.”

Zecora looked puzzled for a second, then sheepishly raised her foreleg to let them clean and dress the cut that was still slowly oozing red. “Thank you. I must now go but I shall be brief, as I go in search of Summer's relief.”

After the Zebra had gone, Cloud Kicker emerged from the bathroom, the short hair on her face spiky from the water she'd splashed on it, her haunted eyes wide and her tail twitching nervously. I probably look the same, Junebug thought, restraining a wild impulse to laugh.

“H-has she gone?”

“Just for a while,” Skywriter confirmed in a hushed voice. “She said she needed more supplies to deal with, with Summer's injuries.”

“Ah.” Cloud Kicker started towards the head of the bed but abruptly changed course. “Can somepony cover that thing up? I can't bear to even look at it,” she begged, her hooves treading nervously in place. From the direction she was looking, there was little doubting what she meant.

“A good idea.” Junebug rummaged briefly for a saddle blanket in one of the piles strewn across the floor and dropped it over the jam-jar and its hideous contents. Once the deed was done there was a collective sigh of relief from the three mares.

Cloud Kicker carefully skirted around the now-covered jar and dropped back onto her haunches by Summer's head. The little grey mare was teetering on the verge of unconsciousness, her breathing a series of short, shallow snorts. “We've got to get her to the hospital. I mean, it's lucky that Zecora could help and everything, but surely they're better equipped for this sort of thing?” she said, taking up the damp cloth again and gently wiping her friend's face. Summer twitched at its cool touch and mumbled something unintelligible.

Skywriter shivered. “For what sort of thing? That wasp, or whatever it is? Can you imagine that thing loose in a hospital full of sick or injured ponies? Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all.”

“I think you're both right,” said Junebug. “I don't know what else Zecora can do, but Summer's going to need proper medical care to recover from this. Don't get me wrong, I'll do whatever I can, but that's not really much.” She let out a jittery laugh. “I mean, I suppose I can water her and put fresh compost around her hooves, but that's about as far as my knowledge goes!”

Her weak joke withered and died a lonely death, and she cringed at her own gaucheness. After a short pause, Skywriter continued as if it hadn't happened. “I'm afraid that I'm not going to be much help. Cres and I were going to fly home later today; I have clients waiting on me and Cres' firm is in the middle of an audit. I can probably arrange somepony to cover me, but it'll take a few days.”

“I can probably do it,” said Cloud Kicker. “They keep telling me that I should take some time off.”

“Speaking of which, do you need to be going? It's getting on towards four o'clock?”

“No, when I spoke to Rainbow Dash earlier I got her to cover for me. She owes me one, after all.”

There was a brief pause. “Well, that's good, I guess. That just leaves your dad. One of us should probably go and tell him what's going on – would you mind?”

Cloud Kicker gave her mother a look which clearly said, I know exactly what you're up to, but she agreed, saying simply, “Look after her.”

There was silence in the little room long after Cloud Kicker's hoofsteps had faded away, broken only by the occasional snuffle or muttering from the bed. Junebug took over at the head of the bed, feeling the heat still rising from her friend's forehead with the back of her pastern and smoothing back her mane soothingly.

Skywriter watched for a moment, then shook herself and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on, absently clearing up some of the mess as she waited. As the kettle began to bubble, she let out a sigh.

“So. My daughter.”

“She's doing her best,” Junebug blurted, not quite sure why she sounded so defensive.

Skywriter held up a placating hoof. “I know, I know. I'm glad you wrote to me. I know she's trying to be brave, but she just seems to be bottling everything up.”

“Maybe she is – when she's in company, at least. I don't know, Sky, I guess she's dealing with it her own way. I mean, is there a right way to cope with some thing like this?” Junebug flailed helplessly and gave up. “I've just been trying to let her know that if there's anything I can do, I'll be there. I don't know what else to do. Not much good at this sort of thing.”

Skywriter sighed again. “Nopony is, June. You've got a good heart, so follow it and hope for the best.” She was silent for a moment before asking, “What can you tell me about this colt she was seeing?”

“Silver? Didn't she tell you anything about him?”

“We weren't even entirely sure that there was a 'him', not until you wrote. To her, colts were always on a 'need to know' basis as far as we parents are concerned, I think! She'd mentioned him a few times in her letters, so we assumed he was at least a friend, but he was appearing more and more regularly. Perhaps she would have been writing a letter to us about him now, if things had turned out differently.”

Junebug smiled faintly. “I dare say she would have. He's Summer's best friend. Or was, I suppose. He was... he was a nice guy.”

“Was he?” Skywriter said neutrally. “I've seen some of the stuff in the papers-”

Junebug cut her off with a fierce scowl. “If those idiots told me the sky was blue, I'd want to go outside and check. Yes, he knew Twilight; yes, he was friends with Applejack. The rest of it I'd like to say was their own imagination, but there was a lot of nasty, mean-spirited rumours doing the rounds here in Ponyville from ponies who should be utterly ashamed of themselves.”

Skywriter's brow furrowed. “So none of it was true?”

“I can't put it any better than he did when he and Summer were surrounded at the town meeting – did they really think so little of Cloud Kicker, because she isn't stupid. Gosh, that seems like ages ago – was it really only last week?”

“Suddenly, I'm starting to like him,” said Skywriter. The kettle had long since boiled, but she simply toyed with the tea tin and pot without taking any definite steps towards brewing up. “Do you want any?” she asked suddenly. “I was going to make a pot but I sort of just realised that after seeing that earlier, I really don't know if I could stomach anything right now.”

“And Zecora said that she has more to do when she gets back. Thanks, but I'll give it a miss.”

“I don't even know why I started.” Skywriter said, not looking up. “A habit, I suppose – when in doubt, make tea.”

“It's all right,” said Junebug awkwardly. “I do the same thing.”

After a moment, Skywriter asked, “What's all this about a meeting? And why did those rumours you were talking about start, anyway?”

Junebug spent the next few minutes explaining. “She would have taken on the whole town for him, right there,” she concluded. “And Summer, too, of course, but I think it was mainly for him. And of course I stood there like a lemon trying to work out what I was supposed to do.”

“I'm sure you did your best, June.”

“That's what Summer said, but I don't feel any less awful for it. All water under the bridge now, of course.”

“So how did they meet,” the Pegasus asked, changing the subject.

That made Junebug smile again. “We all met shortly after Summer and Silver arrived. Pinkie Pie throws parties at the drop of a hat, and two new ponies moving to Ponyville definitely calls for a party. He and Summer would meet up every evening and go for a walk. I'd join them if I was about, but Cloud Kicker seemed more determined than I was. She thought he was cute and wanted to get to know him, so most evenings she'd make a point of meeting up with them. Summer thought it was hilarious.”

“And Silver?”

“I wouldn't say that he didn't notice at first, but... I don't know. Have you ever seen two ponies who just clicked? That was him and Cloud Kicker. They'd trot along together, rather oblivious of Summer and I, and just chat away about everything. They were good at making each other laugh, but there was more to it than that. It wasn't long before it was obvious that they really cared about each other, but they took things slowly. Maybe because of everything else going on around here, maybe that was just the way they wanted it, I don't know. Either way, she was radiant, Sky, she was just glowing. And now? Now I can't help but wonder what took them so long.”

Skywriter closed her eyes and turned away, a long sigh leaking out. “Kids,” she said at last, in a hollow, choked voice. “They must have thought that they had forever.”

Shining Armour pushed his pile of forms back across the counter and tried to hide his impatience as the mare in the shiny peaked cap carefully checked through each one. Paperwork was a necessary evil, he knew, but that didn't make it any less of a pain in the flank.

It had come as a relief when Nightjack confirmed that Applejack was to be charged later that afternoon. Inflicting GBH, as he and Autumn had proclaimed all along. It did at least relieve him from kicking his hooves around the police station and he could go and set things in motion – like travel warrants for his guardsponies to return to Canterlot tomorrow morning.

Finally satisfied, the mare stamped each form in turn and slid them back to him, his Royal Warrant on top, and he was free to make his escape. “Have a nice day, sir!” she chirped happily.

“Thanks – you, too.”

He had barely taken two steps outside when a lightly-armoured, bat-winged grey scout landed in front of him and saluted. “Colonel Shining Armour? Trooper Starshine, Princess Luna's Own Light Cavalry. Sir, I'm an outrider to the main detachment; the chariot containing Mr. Braise's parents should be arriving shortly in the main square.”

“Thank you, Trooper. At ease!” He briefly contemplated nipping back to the library for his armour to present a more formal look. “How long do we have?”

“Maybe five to ten minutes, sir. It took me a while to track you down.”

Shining Armour grunted. Hmm. Perhaps not, then. His natural state would have to do. “Follow me, Trooper.”

Together, they trotted back through the town, the bat-winged Guardspony getting a few strange looks from some of the townsponies, stopping outside the front door of the town hall. It was the biggest landmark in the square and seemed a natural place that the chariot team would aim for. Relaxing into a natural Stand Easy posture, he scanning the square for trouble through force of habit as well as the skies for the arrivals, constantly alternating between the two. He assumed that his companion was doing the same, although her eyes were lost behind the dark lenses of her helmet. He frowned at the sight of an ambulance hurrying away from the far end of the square, the pony between the traces ringing his bell to clear the way. Just what we need – more trouble.

There was a discreet cough from the Trooper and, redirecting his attention and squinting across the sky, he could make out first one, then another chariot, each being pulled by a Pegasus team. It's a shame about the saddlebags, I suppose, but it's not a fashion contest.

The chariots circled overhead to give the few ponies in the square time to get out of the way, then touched down gently. One, its contents covered in a cargo net, halted where it was, but the other one drove right up to the door of the town hall. As he advanced to meet it, the two civilians it bore stepped off on rubbery legs and looked around, tired and befuddled.

“Ma'am? Sir? Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would like to extend their sympathies to you in your great loss, as do I. I'm Colonel Shining Armour of the Royal Equestrian Guard. I have been ordered to see to it that your stay in Ponyville is as comfortable and trouble-free as possible.”

The mare, a powerful, pale-yellow Earth pony with a sunset-red mane, blinked her weary, red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a quiet, strained voice. “My name is Amber Hammerbuck, and this is my husband, Copper Braise.”

“Sir,” Shining Armour nodded respectfully. Copper Braise, a towering, angular Earth pony, simply turned a stony gaze on him in silence. The craggy, forbidding face was actually a little intimidating – a look not helped by the thick splatter of old burn marks across his neck and chest, ranging from little dark-grey circles in his reddish-brown coat to the hoof-sized naked patch on his left shoulder.

He cleared his throat and continued, “I've arranged a hotel for you nearby. I know you've had a long journey, so if you'd like to follow me, we can get you booked in and discuss what you'd like to do from there.”

“That would be great,” said Amber, sagging a little in relief.

After a brief aside to give orders to the Sergeant in charge of the detachment, he led them across the square to the hotel – the same one, in fact, that Twilight had hired for the lawyer, Pro Bono. They had a comfortable suite on the second floor with a small balcony overlooking the square, and after they had had a nose around in a desultory fashion, they rejoined him in the main room.

“Now, I know you must be tired and it's getting a bit late to leap into things today, but I thought I should give you some outline of what you can expect. Firstly, Princess Celestia has authorised me to cover any expenses you may incur for the duration of your stay. That includes the hotel, and if you want to eat anywhere in Ponyville please just show them this card.

“I will also be acting as your guide and liaison with the authorities. The pony in charge of the investigation is Sergeant Nightjack; he's based here in Ponyville but has extensive experience with major investigations in Trottingham. He's currently being assisted by Detective Inspector Autumn Breeze from Trotland Yard's Flying Squad. You'll meet both of these ponies tomorrow morning, and also the Prosecutor, Senior Counsel Cui Bono. Those three will be able to tell you what happened, as far as they can work out, and what happens next. They will also try to answer any questions you may have.”

“I saw the newspapers at one of the stops on the way here,” said Amber. “They said that somepony had been arrested?”

Shining Armour nodded reluctantly. “Yes, a local mare was arrested for assaulting Silver. As I understand it, she has been charged this evening over the attack. I really shouldn't say any more, I'm afraid; that's in the hooves of the Police and Chamber of Justice. They'll tell you everything they can tomorrow.”

Amber and her husband exchanged a long look, and for a second, Copper's stoic mask cracked a little. His wife turned back to Shining Armour, her eyes pleading. “Why Silver?” she whispered. “Why my son? He was a good colt.”

Shining Armour swallowed heavily and groped for an answer. “I don't know that anypony can answer that, Ma'am,” he settled for eventually.

“Why are you here?” Copper's voice was a low, gruff rumble. “A pony of your rank? The Princesses could have sent anypony. There's something more to this, isn't there?” The stallion's piercing grey eyes were fixed on his face, and once again Shining Armour felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“The answer to that question is a very long one, and one which I will need to explain in conjunction with the police tomorrow. I'm sorry if I seem to be putting you off, but honestly, it's best if you get the full story at once rather than bits and pieces here and there.”

Copper's narrow gaze continued for a moment, then he nodded and turned away. Shining Armour felt a momentary relief.

“I should probably be going for now, as there's several things I need to attend to. If you want to talk to me about anything before morning or if you have a question or problem, the porter downstairs knows where to find me. If you're around town, I will be either at Ponyville Police Station, which is just across the square, or at the library. Anypony will be able to give you directions.”

“One more thing, Colonel,” said Amber haltingly. “There's another pony who will have been with him. Summer Clip, she was his best friend. Do you know where she is? S-she must be absolutely in bits and she's all alone here...”

“I know she has a place in town but I'm not sure where, exactly. I'll make some enquiries and tell her that you've arrived,” he promised.

“Thank you. Summer, she was almost like a second foal to us. She and Silver were so close,” the mare said, her voice breaking, and her husband leaned close to comfort her.

Feeling increasingly awkward, Shining Armour decided to make his exit. “I'll go and get started. The hotel does room service, or feel free to go to one of the restaurants around the square. Failing that, the porter will be able to help you if there's anything you want.”

Suddenly, Copper Braise's burning eyes were fixed on him again. “Want? Colonel, they can't give me what I want.” His voice cracked, husky words forced out of him by sheer will.

“I want my son back.”

Pulling open the door to the library, Shining Armour let out a quiet but heartfelt sigh. Inside, the soft glow of the floor lamp illuminated the central table and cast strange shadows on the surrounding shelves. Two figures were sitting side-by-side at the table, deep in a large stack of books.

“Hey Twily. Hey Spike.”

The two looked up from their work, blinking slowly at the mental change of gears, and mumbled their greetings.

He felt a twitch of a smile as he shrugged off his saddlebags. “I see the literary madness is catching, Spike?”

“Huh, you can't live with Twilight for so long without picking up a few bad habits,” the dragon said half-heartedly. “You're out late tonight?”

“Yeah, Nightjack and Bluebell asked me to help wrangle the press. Applejack's been charged now, so brace yourselves for the papers in the morning.” He took a deep breath. “Also, Silver's parents have arrived. I spent some time settling the in to the hotel.”

Twilight paused for a minute, the pushed her book shut with a gentle thump. “They must be devastated.” Her voice was firmly neutral, tightly controlled.

“They're holding together, but only just. His mum seems to be all right, but I wouldn't want to mess with his dad at all. I don't mind admitting that he's one scary pony.”

That made Twilight smile for a second. “My brother the guard, intimidated by a civilian?”

“Trust me, you'd understand if you met him. That reminds me, actually; Silver's mum was asking about Summer Clip. Do you know where I can find her?”

Twilight's smile vanished and she shared a look with Spike. “Yes, actually. She's in Ponyville Urgent Care right now.”

Shining Armour felt his stomach drop into his horseshoes. “Please tell me you're joking?”

“I wish I was. Summer's friends were worried about her earlier, so they borrowed a key and checked up on her. She has some sort of nasty infection on one of her hind legs and she was a little delirious.”

“Oh, boy.”

“It gets worse. She was being difficult about doctors for some reason, so they got Zecora to check her over. That turned out to be quite lucky, because Zecora recognised the wound and knew that it was caused by some sort of exotic tropical insect. She managed to extract it and clean the wound out, then she brought it here. It, and its larvae,” she added, looking faintly green. Shaking herself, she continued. “Spike and I were trying to find some sort of reference material on this thing; I'll need to talk to the Princess about this as soon as possible and at the moment I can only tell her what Zecora told me.”

He frowned. “You think it might be something to do with the creature in the forest?”

“That's a reasonable assumption, because there's no way that this thing should survive up here, even at this time of year. Summer's going to be fine, but for now she's up in the hospital being pumped full of antibiotics.”

“Is anything ever simple around here? My Goddess, how am I supposed to explain all this to Silver's parents?! And how do you get yourself into these things, Twily?”

“Welcome to Ponyville, I guess,” said Spike, getting up and toting a pile of books over to a trolley marked 'Returns'.

The tentative, almost apologetic knock at the door came as no surprise. If nothing else, the glow of her lamp still burning must have been one of the only lights still showing in Ponyville at this hour. Sliding the bookmark into her novel, Junebug rose from her chair, joints clicking in protest, and went to answer the summons.

She smiled sympathetically at the drawn figure with the pleading eyes that waited silently in her doorway. “Come on in. I wondered if I'd see you tonight.”

She led Cloud Kicker back into the living room and started hurriedly clearing off the sofa. “Sorry about the mess, I needed the table earlier and then the sofa tends to become a bit of a dumping-ground. Can't sleep?”

“No. I keep thinking...”

She trailed off, but Junebug understood perfectly. “I know. I don't feel much like sleeping after going through that, either. Coldheart stopped off on her way home; she says that Summer's going to be fine in a week or two, but all the same...! Did your mum and dad get off home all right, earlier?”

“Yeah. They've both got work in the morning,” Cloud Kicker said in a hollow voice, lowering herself onto the sofa.

“And suddenly the old house feels a bit quiet, doesn't it? You're welcome to stay if you want, the spare room is made up. Would you like something to drink? Cocoa, or maybe hot milk?”

Cloud Kicker summoned a ghost of a smile. “I haven't had hot milk in years.”

“It's a nice, calming thing, I find. Even if it's not quite the season for it. I won't be long.”

She stepped through into the kitchen and set to work. With the pan on the heat, she reached to pull a cup down and noticed a shadow move in the living room. A dark-grey form, its long, fluffy fur unkempt, rose from the pillow on the window sill and stretched unsteadily. She smiled fondly, Poor old Bertie, he really is feeling his age these days. He jumped down and padded slowly over towards the sofa and out of sight, but she heard the little chirp he always made when he jumped up and Cloud Kicker's startled inhalation. A few seconds later, she could just make out a low, decorous rumbling in the silence of the still night.

Smiling to herself, she returned to her task. A few minutes later she switched off the heat and poured two steaming mugs and placed them on a tray, adding a pair of cookies. Balancing the burden on her back, she poked her head around the door frame to see Cloud Kicker gently nuzzling the purring form curled up against her shoulder, her eyes already closed.