With slow deliberateness, he set the last page face-down on the pile and took his time straightening them up and setting the report out neatly, right side up, while he waited for the faintly nauseous feeling to pass. “I'll need a copy of that, later,” he said abruptly, still minutely aligning the report with the side of the table.

Autumn nodded. “Not pleasant reading, is it? The poor sod got worked over worse than I've ever seen. There's some interesting stuff in there, though, especially the parts about weapons and possible sequence of events. It sounds like it could well tie in with Applejack's story.”

He bit back an unkind retort. “And how is she doing this morning?”

The Pegasus shrugged. “Same as yesterday, really. I think Bluebell's tried talking to her, but she's barely said a word.”

“How much longer does this go on? We both know she didn't do it,” he said bluntly.

Autumn sighed. “Until this evening. The Prosecutor should be on the evening train from Canterlot; we'll know when he makes a decision. In the meantime, it's interviews, interviews, interviews. Your sister for one, those foals as well. Probably a few other ponies around here, too. And we definitely need to get statements from your Guardsponies.”

“Twilight's expecting you. Would it help if I asked my Guards to write their own statements, or would you prefer to do it under caution, and so on?”

“Their own statements will probably do. You have a decent idea of what we're interested in by now, so if you can ask any relevant questions I think that ought to cover it. And as for your sister, it's probably best if you give that one a miss. It's a bit too close to home.”

He'd been expecting that, anyway. “Fair enough. For now, I think I'd better go and see to my Guardsponies.”

For the second time, Junebug raised her hoof to knock – and then lowered it again. What if she's asleep? What if she doesn't want to see me? And anyway, she's probably not in. It was only a moment before she told herself off firmly. Of course she does! If you're not prepared to help her at a time like this, you're not a proper friend at all. With that, she quickly rapped on the door before her nerve failed her again.

Several long moments passed. Do I knock again? Maybe she really is asleep? Just as she was about to turn away she heard the scrape of the lock and the door opened to reveal the exhausted, bleary-eyed figure of her friend. All thoughts of carefully-rehearsed condolences and speeches flew straight out of her head.

“Hi.”

Cloud Kicker looked at her blankly for a moment then turned and walked back into her house, leaving the door open. Cursing herself Junebug followed, stopping only to pull the door to behind her.

She stepped over the saddlebags discarded carelessly in the entrance to the main room and felt her way cautiously over to the sofa. The inside of the little flat was dark and gloomy, with the sun kept at bay by the still-drawn curtains. Cloud Kicker was standing by the little two-pony table jammed into the corner of the living room but didn't turn to face her. “I'm sorry, I suppose I should get the kettle on,” she said in a lifeless voice.

“Don't, it's all right,” said Junebug, jolted into action. “Would you like something, though? I can make it for you.”

Cloud Kicker said nothing, her head bowed.

“Cloud Kicker, when did you last eat something?” she asked firmly.

“Uh... yesterday, I think,” Cloud Kicker said vaguely.

That was enough to launch Junebug into action, and she trotted into the tiny kitchen and started rifling through the fridge feeling a surge of relief that she could do something tangible. “You need to eat. I'm sure you don't feel like it, but you do need something.” She filled the kettle and set it to boil, and pulled out some alfalfa and bread which still looked reasonably fresh. The domestic arrangements took a few minutes, but she set a sandwich on the table in front of her friend and then returned with a cup of tea heavily laced with sugar.

“Thanks,” the Pegasus said, with an empty smile. She stared at the sandwich for a moment, then mechanically started to eat. One hoof rested on the table beside a little box and, although trying not to pry, Junebug couldn't resist leaning in for a closer look.

The box was small but gleamed brightly even in the dim light, and its lustre didn't hide the intricate patterns set into it as Cloud Kicker's cutie mark stared back at her from each face. The words, 'That's beautiful', formed instinctively but died in her throat when she realised its likely source; there was only one pony who would have made that for her. Oh Celestia, what do I say to her?

“Did you get any sleep last night?” she blurted in a mild panic, realising that the silence had stretched out between them.

Could Kicker chewed and swallowed. “A little. I just... um...” She broke off, looking sick, and the sandwich dropped back onto the plate.

Junebug felt a sharp lurch in her heart. “You do know that if there's anything you need, you can come and see me, don't you? Anything at all, don't worry about the time or whatnot. Even if it's just a bit of a chat or some company.”

Cloud Kicker gave her a ghastly rictus of a smile, but despite the wavering in her voice her earnest reply told her that she was still grateful. “Thanks, June.”

“It's not much, I know, but... oh, bother!” she said awkwardly. “Have you told your parents?”

Cloud Kicker shook her head miserably/ “No. I don't know what I'd say,” she said in a hollow voice.

“Would you like me to write to them for you? Everypony needs their mum, sometimes.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. I'll get Ditzy to hoof-deliver it this afternoon.”

“Have you... how's Summer?”

Oh, Celestia! What do I say? “Devastated. And angry. Sergeant Nightjack came and fetched me yesterday. He had to break it to her and she didn't take it well. Not that she could have-” she broke off, feeling both helpless and furious with herself. She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts and continued. “She tried to throw me out at first, screaming and shouting all sorts. I won't say I calmed her down, but eventually I got her in off the street and, well... she just collapsed. Cried her eyes out. Nothing much I could do. Put her to bed. Made tea. I'm not much good at this,” she finished gruffly. To her surprise, the younger mare rested a hoof on hers.

“I should have been there. Some friend I am,” she sniffled.

“Cloudy, it's OK. I'm sure she understands.”

“But... but, I mean, she needed somepony. She knew him her whole life and-”

“Now, stop that. Of course she loved him, but you did, too.”

“But-”

“Cloudy, it's OK for you to hurt. It's not a contest over who knew him longest or loved him more. Just the fact that you did is enough; your heart knows how badly it hurts.”

Cloud Kicker let out a quiet sob, caressing the little box on the table gently, pushing it back and forth. She looked up and caught Junebug watching her. “H-he made this for me.”

“I'd guessed. It's really special,” she said gently.

“That's what I said. And he said, he said... I was a very special mare,” she finished in a strangled, keening voice.

Junebug's stomach clenched abruptly, driving all the air out of her lungs in a rush. “Oh, Cloudy!”

Two violet eyes like great wounds stared back at her, words tumbling out in jagged spurts between great, heaving gasps. “It was two days ago. We... went outside together and sat in the sun. Just me and him. It was beautiful. And I told him... I told him that ever since we met I thought he was cute and I had a bit of a crush on him. And as I got to know him, it became way more than that until I realised that I'd fallen for him in a really big way.

“And he told me... I was fun. I was the highlight of his day, and even when things were going bad he knew I would be there. And we could talk about stuff – serious stuff – too, and how much he valued that. And he trusted me. And then he gave me that smile of his; you know, that one? And said...,” she paused, fighting for breath, and a strange smile flitted across her face. “He said... 'Well, I always was a bit slow on the uptake'.”

Junebug wrapped a foreleg around the other mare's heaving shoulders, feeling sick and hopelessly lost. She was fleetingly glad to feel the face buried in her neck and the tears dampening her coat as it meant that Cloud Kicker didn't see the horror on her face nor need her to speak words that she knew would not come, and inwardly she cursed herself bitterly for such cowardice. What should have been a heart-warming anecdote brimming with optimism and the promise of future happiness for her friend had instead become a horrifyingly cruel reminder of what could have been – and just what had been snatched away from her, right as it began to fully blossom.

Bluebell's naturally sunny disposition was somewhat dimmed as she trotted away from the familiar schoolhouse. She had fond memories of the place herself, even if Cheerilee had replaced old Miss Sunflower since her own school-days, but her morning's work had left her with a lot to think about on the short trip back to the station.

The teacher had been very helpful, setting up a room for her to use and providing a brief insight of what to expect from each filly. She had been happy to go along with Cheerilee's recommendations and sure enough, the little Pegasus she interviewed first had been hard work; uncommunicative and even a little surly. With patience, she had slowly teased the story out of her but it had been an uphill struggle all the way.

Sweetie Belle, the Unicorn, had been much more enlightening, although she still seemed a little stunned at just how things had unravelled so quickly. She was observant, though, and she fleshed out her account with a surprising degree of detail, especially for somepony so young. The margins of her interview notes were filled with stars against things to check or corroborate. That would also be a good prompt for her to talk to Sweetie's parents and older sister, and to remind them to be patient and supportive with her.

Apple Bloom, the last of the three, was a real sweetheart. The softly-spoken little filly was also the most badly-affected by her experiences, not only because it turned out that she had remained behind when the other two left and was their mysterious first-aider, but massive guilt over her sister's arrest. After she had finished with the interview she had spent quite some time with the little filly, trying to gain her confidence and ease some of her worry. It wasn't her job to be a social worker – not really, anyway – but Apple Bloom was in desperate need of support, and while she would see Big Macintosh and Granny Smith later to suggest they get her some professional help, it was also important that she knew that there were adults who would listen to her and help where they could, too.

Pushing through the front door of the Station, she snatched the hoof-scrawled 'Out on Business' sign off the counter and made her way through into the back, intent on a nice, soothing cup of raspberry-leaf tea while she wrote up her notes.

As the kettle started to bubble, she heard hooves approaching from the custody suite and a head with a blue-and-white-striped mane popped around the door frame. “Oh! Hallo, darling!”

Bluebell smiled reflexively. “Hi, Mum! Everything all right?”

“Yes, yes, fine. Just doing some house-keeping,” said the mare. Blueberry's coat, the same shade as her namesake, was smudged here and there with dust, and a cobweb lay plastered over one ear. “How Nightjack lets the place get into such a state, I do not know. I keep telling him I'm more than happy to pop around occasionally, but he never asks,” she clucked in mild indignation.

Bluebell hid a smile. Occasionally she wondered if her mother had a fancy for her boss, but Nightjack seemed either unusually oblivious or impressively tactful. Or a combination of both. Nevertheless, he did appreciate her willingness to mind the shop on the rare occasions when he and Bluebell were both out at the same time. With a mental shrug, she pulled down a second cup and bombed a teabag into it, too.

“Did anything happen while we were out?” she asked, pouring boiling water into the two mugs and mashing the bags vigorously with a teaspoon.

Blueberry huffed. “Some reporter tried to sneak his way in, but I caught him and sent him away with a flea in his ear. The nerve of some ponies!”

Bluebell's ears pricked up. “Really? Did you get his name?”

Blueberry snorted derisively. “He called himself Colonel Shine, or some much nonsense. I don't know where he got the Guard outfit, but it was quite convincing.”

Bluebell was just taking the first sip of her tea, but at her mother's indignant revelation, she choked, snorting it all over the place. Coughing, as her mother pounded her on the back with a look of long-suffering fond exasperation, she wiped her suddenly-streaming eyes to splutter, “That's because it's real.”

“What?”

“Colonel Shining Armour was asked to help us investigate by Princess Celestia herself! He's wearing a Guards uniform because he's Captain of the Royal Guard, for pony's sake!”

A mortified grin spread slowly across Blueberry's face. “I probably shouldn't have threatened to have him arrested and whacked him around the flank with my duster, then?”

“Mother!” Bluebell wailed in exasperation.

“Ah. Whoops!”

The jangle of the bell echoed around a deserted Sugar Cube Corner, drawing Mr. Cake out of the kitchen.

“Good afternoon, Rarity! What's your pleasure today?” he asked with his usual jovial warmth. “The apricot Danishes are fresh out of the oven just now?”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cake, but I'm watching my figure at the moment. Perhaps another time? I was hoping to see Pinkie Pie, if she's around?”

The stallion took her refusal in his stride. “She sure is, she's just up in her room. Go on up.”

The demure, ladylike smile fell from her face as she mounted the stairs, her face settling into an unaccustomedly-stern frown. She and Rainbow had been surprised not to find the party pony at Twilight's library that morning, and her continuing absence throughout the day had led them to conclude that something important must be holding her up. Instead, she found Pinkie rummaging around in her dresser, bobbing her head with her usual restless energy.

“Hi Rarity! How's Ponyville's premier purveyor of fabulous fashion today? What are you doing here?” Pinkie's greeting seemed very forced, and faltered badly on seeing the look on her friend's face.

“Pinkamena Pie, where have you been?” she demanded sternly.

“Oh. Well, you know, working and stuff. Cupcakes wait for no mare, and uneasy lies the head that makes the vanilla crowns,” Pinkie chirped cheerfully, fiddling with a party hat and unable to meet Rarity's eyes.

“It's your day off,” she pointed out, struggling to keep her temper.

Pinkie paused in her fidgeting and slumped back onto her hindquarters, her ears drooping. “Yeah. I'm sorry.”

Pinkie's voice was quiet and sad, and Rarity's anger softened at the sincerity. She walked over and rested a hoof on her friend's shoulder. “What's wrong, Pinkie?”

Pinkie swallowed and look up at her, regret and sadness warring in her eyes. “Everypony's all sad and scared and normally I'd throw a party when ponies need cheering up, but somepony's dead, Rares. Somepony's dead, and Applejack's in jail, and... I don't know what to do.”

She could see how much the admission cost her friend, and the remained of her anger drained away. She moved forward and sat beside her friend, her shoulder pressed up against the pink mare's in solidarity and support. “Then you rally around the ponies that are left. You don't have to do anything special, you just have to be there and show them that you care. Maybe we can't do much for Applejack right now, but Twilight needs her friends. She needs us to help her cope with the loss of a friend and the sort of guilt you know that she'll heap upon herself for not solving everything in time. She needs her friends, Pinkie, and that means you.”

To her shock, Pinkie sniffled quietly. “If she wants to see me. She must hate me for abandoning her.”

“Oh, darling, don't be so silly! I promise you, the only thing that will go through her head when you walk through her door will be relief that one of her best friends is there. Come on, I'm heading back there now – what do you say?”

“Okay,” Pinkie said in a small voice.

Rarity threw a warm smile at her friend and together they set off towards the stairs. She paused at the top step and motioned for Pinkie to go first, but the other mare also stopped and took a deep breath.

“Rarity? Thanks. You're a good friend.”

“I'm sorry!” Bluebell yelped for what seemed like the hundredth time over Autumn's hysterical laughter.

“...with a, with a duster!” the blue Pegasus gasped yet again, pounding a hoof on the table.

Beside her, Nightjack was trying – and failing – to contain his explosive sniggers. “The might of the nation, defeated by a housemare with a cleaning implement,” he added in mock-solemnity. “Thank Celestia she didn't have a plunger!”

Shining Armour rolled his eyes. “Well, what was I supposed to do? She wouldn't listen to a word I said, and I was hardly going to bale her up and lock her in one of your cells, was I?”

“I'm sorry!” Bluebell interjected yet again.

Shining Armour ignored her and continued. “All I wanted was to see if you were in and leave you the statements, so I guess I found out what I wanted to know.”

“It's all right, I've stopped laughing now,” Autumn panted insincerely, mopping at her eyes. “So where did you go?”

“I went to see my sister,” he said coolly. “I wanted to make sure she was all right after you two had finished with her.”

That sobered Nightjack, at least. “Ah. And...?”

“She'll be fine. Eventually. Just as long as those idiot reporters stop banging on her door. There was also a message for me; the Princesses are expecting me on the evening train. They also want Twilight to come.”

At last, Autumn returned to her normal demeanour. “Oh? Now that might be a problem.”

Shining Armour's tone became positively frigid. “Oh really? And why's that?”

“I think it would be better if she stayed close for a while.”

“You do, huh? Is she a suspect?”

“Well, no, but-”

“You think she should ignore a direct summons from the Princesses? That one of the best-known ponies in Equestria might suddenly do a runner?” he demanded caustically.

“All right, Colonel, you've made your point,” Nightjack interjected soothingly. “We don't have a problem with it. Do you know when she'll be back?”

He snorted, feeling annoyed with himself for letting them get under his skin. “A day, maybe two. If it's longer, we'll send a message.” He blew out a deep breath. “Sorry. I really ought to thank you all for your help over the last few days.”

“Not a problem, Shining, I just wish we hadn't had to meet under these circumstances,” said Nightjack diplomatically. “You and your Guardsponies have been invaluable.”

Autumn sighed. “Likewise. It's actually been a pleasure, believe it or not.”

“Thanks. So, what happens next?”

“The Prosecutor will make a decision on charges. We're supposed to be meeting her, strangely enough, on the evening train from Canterlot.”

“Then I guess I'll see you at the station.” He turned to go, then stopped and grinned at Bluebell. “Just don't tell your mum, in case she turns up with tar and feathers!”

The others laughed, and he closed the door to another of Bluebell's vociferous apologies.

Star Glimmer stood at the Canterlot cross-roads, facing Thunderlane and Windrush. From what she'd heard of the last few days they were going to be a pony light for the evening shift, but given the relatively straightforward forecast they had to achieve she didn't see any point in dragging anypony in for overtime.

“Okay, everypony, we might as well get started. Tonight we need to break up this cumulus cover, and-”

She paused, hearing the thump of wings beating at the air behind her, and turned to see a familiar mare drop onto her hooves and trot into their little circle.

“Sorry I'm late,” she mumbled quietly, her eyes fixed on the ground.

Star closed her hanging jaw with a snap. “Cloud Kicker?”

“Yeah?”

She flailed for a tactful way to express herself, then gave up. “I... uh, never mind. Good to see you. Now, getting back to the cumulus...”

She ran them through the chart and assigned each of them to specific areas and roles before dismissing them to get started. She caught Cloud Kicker just before she set off.

“Hey, Cloud Kicker? I, uh, I heard about, uh... well, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry, and if you need any time off then it's not a problem. Don't worry about the weather, we can take care of that, just make sure you take care of you.”

The lavender-grey mare drew herself up proudly. “Thank you, but I have a job to do.”

Star could only stare at her, nonplussed. “Just saying, y'know.”

There was a tremor in Cloud Kicker's voice as she replied but she kept her fragile composure. “I had a life before him, now I'm going to have to have a life after him. I may as well get started.”

She gave up. “Well, okay then. Let's push that cirrus in before it gets dark.”

Several hours' work later, she gathered her team in to review their progress. The beautiful pink and purple tints reflecting off their cirrus in the vaults of the sky had finally given way to full darkness, replaced by the pale light of the waning moon. Broken cumulus, thinning to nothing towards Trottingham, drifted gently south on the fitful light breeze. She paused, staring up at the familiar night sentinel; even now, she looked for the form of the Mare in the Moon, as familiar to her as the back of her hoof ever since she was a filly. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that the Mare was now returned to them as Princess Luna, lifting the shadow from the moon.

Shaking herself, she turned her attention back to her team. “Hey, looking good up there. Great job, everypony! Take a break, then we'll just monitor for a while.” As she spoke, she realised that she was down to two wingponies again. “Has anypony seen Cloud Kicker?”

Thunderlane shuffled his hooves uncomfortably. “Yeah. She's on that little stratocumulus over there,” he said, pointing. “I, uh, I think she might need a while.”

Sure enough, she could just make out the tip of a blonde tail hanging over the edge of the cloud. Poor girl! I just hope a good cry will help a bit – Celestia knows, nothing else will. She sighed and shook her head. “Well, I guess she's done her bit anyway. Okay, break time, ponies. Anypony trade for strawberry jam and peanut butter?”

It seemed rather surreal, somehow, to be waiting on a moonlit train station platform with his sister and her friends on one side, and the police on the other, for the train which would deliver the Prosecutor from Canterlot to decide the fate of one of said friends and which would then also take Twilight away from said friends to Canterlot.

Nopony said much while they waited, but what little conversation there was died away as they caught the distant huff of the Friendship Express, growing louder with each passing moment. Eventually, the train hissed is way into the station, the brakes groaning loudly as it came to a halt.

“Ponyville! This station is Ponyville! This service terminates here – all change, all change, please!” boomed the conductor amid a small stream of ponies emerging from the carriages. One pony in particular stood out, a slender, ascetic-looking peach-coloured mare dressed in a blue pin-striped jacket and tie. She looked up and down the platform before fixing her eyes on them and approaching at a stately pace, a highly-polished briefcase clutched in her teeth.

“Sergeant Nightjack? Senior Counsel Cui Bono, Royal Chamber of Justice,” she introduced herself grandly, setting her briefcase down and proffering a hoof. Strangely, even in the darkness she wore spectacles with peculiar, blue-tinted lenses.

Nightjack shook the mare's hoof politely. “Senior Counsel.”

Autumn, however, just smirked at her insolently. “Hey, Cuddles.”

The mare's glare would have flash-frozen a lake. “Ah. Detective Inspector. An unexpected pleasure.”

Autumn's smirk widened, and Shining Armour decided to get out of the blast zone as fast as possible.

“Well, thank you both for all your help. I might well be back here shortly, so who knows? Maybe I'll see you around.”

“Safe trip, Colonel.”

Shaking both their hoofs, he hurried on board after his sister and her friends.

The carriage was deserted apart from his sister, Spike, and the small gaggle of mares who surrounded her. Rainbow Dash and the exhibitionist Unicorn, Rarity, had been joined by a pink pony, appropriately enough called Pinkie, and a Pegasus so timid that he hadn't even caught her name. Perhaps she was some sort of counterpoint to the brashness of Rainbow Dash. Their individual foibles aside, it was plain to see how much they cared for Twilight, and for that he could forgive them just about anything.

“Remember, if you need us, darling, just send word and we'll come galloping,” declared Rarity.

“Huh, flying if you need – and I'd be there a whole lot quicker!” huffed Rainbow Dash. The others let that pass without comment, evidently used to it.

“Thanks, girls. I'll see you all soon.” Twilight said quietly.

“We'll be there even quicker than quick if we don't get off – I think they're about to leave,” giggled Pinkie.

“Then we shall see you when you return,” said Rarity grandly, giving Twilight a hug before turning to Shining Armour. “Such a pleasure to meet you at last, Colonel – do let us know if you dropping by again.”

Please tell me she isn't going to... oh, thank Celestia! “Uh... likewise,” he said weakly. Even if I was single? When Tartarus freezes over!

There was a sharp blast on a whistle from the conductor, and Twilight's friends all scrambled for the door, saying their farewells. She sat with her face glued to the window as the train let out a loud, groaning wheeze and eased away from the station in a cloud of steam.

“It's OK, Twilight, you'll all be back together again soon,” he said quietly as the train gathered speed towards Canterlot.

Twilight was silent for a long time, before letting out a sigh and slumping down in her seat. “Will we? You know, I'm really not sure any more.”

The booming thump of her hooves on the wooden floor was driving her crazy. Summer added that additional goad to the cauldron of wild, incoherent emotion boiling in her chest as she raged around her little garret room, driven by a restless, ungovernable energy which made the walls of her little flat feel like they were pressing in on her until she wanted to buck and thrash her hooves to drive them back.

She ignored the piles of belongings that she kicked over or stepped on in her erratic circuits. They had appeared after a half-formed thought sometime that morning of packing up and simply skipping town. Leaving the lies and the spite and the vicious, insular, gossipy boneheads of this Celestia-forsaken hick town behind sounded good in her head for a few minutes, like she could cut Ponyville off from her life like the bad end of a carrot. She'd turned her flat upside down in a manic burst of energy before realising that she had no boxes to pack, no transport, and no hope of escaping the pain of the pony-shaped hole beside her.

Some tiny part of that pain had overflowed and spilled out onto the few ponies brave enough to face her. First the policepony, who came to tear her heart to pieces with his carefully formal words. And then Junebug. Poor June – she had been little more than a figure to lash out at, a way to take some of her rage and grief and anguish and howl it out before she burst from it. Junebug had stood stolidly against the torrent until it abruptly ran dry, and all her energy with it. She remembered vaguely Junebug putting her to bed and pottering around for a while, floundering awkwardly for something to say, before finally retreating to leave her in solitude.

Her rest had been troubled and fitful, haunted by dreams which briefly dragged her from sleep only to dissolve as she surfaced, leaving impressions of yawning chasms of despair and loneliness and undefined terror. When she awoke, there was a few blissful moments of uncomprehending disorientation before the realisation of the previous day's events crashed in on her with the force of a falling house. Instinctively she had curled herself into a ball and pulled the covers down over her pounding head, but the pounding at the front door which had woken her echoed through the flat again. There was a moment of panic at the bright light shining around the edges of the curtains, but she disobeyed her first instinct to roll out of bed and gallop downstairs and instead cautiously stuck her muzzle under the hem of the curtains.

A trio of unfamiliar ponies were clustered around her door. She had only a second to recognise their notepads and pencils before a flashbulb flare sent her reeling backwards across the bed, and a gleeful voice called out, “There she is!”

The hammering at her door had intensified, and soon they were shouting up at her through the letterbox. Cowering, bewildered, she had retreated to the safety of her covers again like a little filly, but a sudden, sharp rattle told of one of the misbegotten sons-of-goats trying her window! A spark of indignation had flared, rapidly growing as she sat up and caught some of their questions. Her face had bloomed red; the first, instinctive flush of embarrassment quickly followed by hot rage. This time she had shot to her hooves, suddenly spoiling for a fight, but doubt had seized her at the top of the stairs.

I am alone.

A simple, obvious thought, but by turns terrifying and immolating. The pony that had always, always had her back... didn't. Her friends were her friends but they would never be him, and they weren't here, and suddenly a lot of her bravado had vanished. She remembered a sob, before whirling at the scratching sound and quiet patter of falling soot that came from the fireplace. A loose, grimy ball of paper bounced out of the hearth, and her tears of loss became the hot tears of helpless anger and despair. She was trapped, and she simply couldn't bring herself to face them.

That had been late morning, and her tormentors had remained long after the sun had set. She had heard them outside, talking and laughing amongst themselves while she paced and the room became smaller and the walls closed in on her and the deep, resounding echoes of her hooves on the floor wore like broken glass on her nerves. All had been silent for a couple of hours, now, but she still dreaded the thought of them lying in wait to ambush her, and so she paced, and cursed, and wept.

A solitary, shimmering note from the clock startled her, and she tripped over a loose jar before one hind leg shot out and she backhoofed it into the wall with a snarl. She felt a fleeting pinch of shame as the inoffensive pot shattered, and it was enough to give her pause. She had to get out before she completely spit her bit. Surely they weren't still waiting for her? And if they were, well, she could just hoof it – but either way, she had to get out.

She crept down the narrow stairs, wincing at their occasional creaks, and paused at the bottom where she could see out into the salon. No faces were pressed against the glass, no ponies lurked in the street. Good enough.

Silently, she eased the front door open and had just turned the key to lock it when a startled voice beside her made her jump.

“Miss?”

Her instinctive reaction was to bolt, and the second her legs were in motion she felt all her pent-up energy find the release she had long craved. Teeth gritted in a fierce scowl, she drove harder and harder through her hindquarters, racing flat-out. Her hooves struck sparks as they slithered across the town's damp cobbles, but soon she was across the bridge and out into the countryside. She had no idea where she was heading, simply that it was away, and she couldn't bring herself to care as the cool night air streamed her tears back from her face. She struck out aimlessly across the fields, the distant lights of Canterlot far to her right. Her pace was starting to slacken a little, but it was no good. She couldn't outrun her loss – or the nagging sense of guilt.

“I don't want you to feel like you're obliged to go with me, that's all.”

“Oh, come on! This is, what, the millionth time we've talked about this since we got our cutie marks? You've always wanted to try your luck in Canterlot, and I've always said that I'd go with you. Now seems like as good a time as any. After all, I can't stay at my uncle's place forever, and I'd kinda like to see a bit more of Equestria than just the valley, you know?”

She hit a boggy patch, splashing mud and water over her legs and belly. She changed course and slogged her way to the left, where she could see what looked like solid ground rising between some trees and a faint path.

“There!” Her hoof slammed down on the map beside the large green splodge, just short of Canterlot.

He leaned closer to read the name, and shrugged. “Ponyville? Sure, why not? But I'm gonna hold it against you if I end up spending my life building pig pens while you're trying to sell manecuts and tail-trims to two rock farmers and a mouldy chicken!”

She gave him a flat look and tossed a guidebook at him. “Look it up, genius! It's right on the railway to Canterlot.”

“Oooh. So two rock farmers, a mouldy chicken, and a train driver. That's it, we're set for life. This time next year, Sums, we'll be millionaires!”

She rolled her eyes, earning her a disarming grin and a friendly nudge.

“Ponyville it is, then. When do we get started?”

The trees thickened, forcing her to slow even more as the branches of the gnarled trees knitted threateningly together overhead, cutting the light from the moon down to a faint gleam. Several times unseen thorns tore at her legs and barrel as she twisted and turned through the trees, but for the life of her, she couldn't stop her legs from pumping.

He had started pacing as soon as the door closed behind them. “You know, I'm starting to think you were right, Sums. Maybe we should just cut our losses. Those morons would have gone for us tonight if the Apples hadn't stepped in.”

She noticed that he made a significant omission. “And Cloud Kicker, too. Maybe especially Cloud Kicker.”

She winced at his growl of frustration and hurried on. “As it happens, I think we should hang in there. I'm damned if I'll be run out of town by the likes of them! We've done nothing wrong, Sils – and with our friends standing by us, we'll be fine.”

She got a weak smile. “And if you've got my back, I've got yours.”

She slugged him gently on the shoulder. “Always, Silver. Always.”

The forest opened up into a clearing, and she skidded to a halt as the moon's pale light shone on the wall of trees surrounding her. A primal howl tore itself from her guts, a banshee cry of jumbled emotion reached up into the night sky until something popped in her throat and her voice cracked. Finally spent, her rubbery legs shaking from the exertion and her head drooping, she stood and listened for a while, but her harsh, panting breaths were the only sound in the little clearing.

I am alone.

She suddenly felt small and very, very alone. And also, although she hated to admit it to herself, completely lost. She tottered in a slow circle, but there was little to show which way she had come – and then even less as a cloud passed in front of the moon, cutting off even that feeble light. She swore fluently and tried to convince herself that the shiver that ran down her spine was from the sweat that soaked her coat. The dense, close-growing trees mean that she must be somewhere in the fringes of the Everfree Forest. She racked her brains, trying to think which direction the forest ran in relation to the village, then laughed aloud. Knowing that was fine, but she had no way of telling north from south. She couldn't even see the Pole Star – although she wasn't entirely sure which one that was, anyway.

The moonlight grew brighter as the cloud passed overhead, and she repeated her revolution, vainly searching for some sort of clue in the various dark openings around the clearing. After checking the moon again and searching for marks or hoofprints to tell which way she had come, she took a deep breath and picked her course.

“There.”

Saying it aloud didn't really add to her conviction. As she lifted her hoof to take a first step, she heard a low, menacing cough, and froze, eyes scanning the trees. She tried to hold her breath and listen, but the fierce burning in her lungs meant that the brief silences were punctuated by great, whooping gasps. Nothing moved. It wasn't... that thing. The killer. Junebug had told her that the Princess had said it was safe now. Promised that it was gone.

What if she's wrong?

She blew out a few quivering breaths. It wasn't the only dangerous thing in the forest, by all accounts. Screwing up her nerve, she hurried in her chosen direction on aching legs, her ears alert and swivelling frantically as she plunged into the gloom.

The undergrowth was thicker here, and it grasped at her legs and pulled at her tail ceaselessly as she kept up a dogged jog-trot. A sixth sense made her stop abruptly, ears straining. The rustling sound of her passage didn't quite seem to die away as fast as she would have expected. Swallowing hard, she set off again, only to bark her knees on a fallen tree-trunk and collect a painful scrape down her front to add to her catalogue of minor miseries. Whimpering words her mother would never have guessed she knew, she limped back and forth across the faint path only to find that the only way forward was to clamber awkwardly over the obstacle.

She kept gamely on, and was finally rewarded with a tiny glimmer of light coming through the trees ahead. Muttering in relief, she increased her pace. I've got to be going in the right direction, that has to be civilisation? But who has a light burning at this time of night?

Her uncertainty was resolved by a sharp rustle in the undergrowth off to her left, and she sprang forward into a stumbling, lurching gallop. The tortured wheeze of her lungs told her that she couldn't keep it up for long, but, thank Celestia, the glimmer was strengthening. It had to be a-

Her flying hooves were whipped out from underneath her and she crashed in a painful heap on her shoulder, tumbling head-over-hooves. Winded, heart thundering in terror, she gagged at the sickly, repulsive odour that flooded her nostrils as she strained for breath. Thrashing desperately, thorns and broken branches stabbing painfully into her sides and legs, she regained her hooves and plunged headlong towards the little light, her lips forming frantic, soundless prayers for deliverance.

The trees parted, and she found herself in a small yard behind a cosy little cottage. Light flooded out from an upstairs window, revealing outbuildings and animal pens clustered around the house like chicks around their mother. She staggered around the side of the cottage and almost cried aloud; a well-tended path ran from the cottage's front door to a small road nearby, and surely that was the shape of Ponyville's town hall and clock tower in the near distance? Ears pricked forward, she shambled towards it as fast as her hooves would carry her.

Ponyville's streets were deserted, but she refused to slacken her pace or let herself rest until she had turned up Whitetail Lane and finally closed and bolted the salon door behind her. She leaned against the counter for a minute, too exhausted to even curse herself for her narrow escape. Finally, sweat-soaked, covered in mud, and scratched and bleeding all over, she dragged herself upstairs into the flat.

She didn't even remember making it to the bed.