“You do understand our reluctance, though,” Twilight said. It was six a.m., and Roan was just waking up. The first street vendors were setting up, and the hotel’s earliest risers moved around slowly. A shower ran above their heads, a soothing sound, but also an unsettling reminder of their position. Luna had teleported them back to their hotel, and Applejack had not left since then. If they left late enough for ponies to see them, then the fragile net of excuses that had been set up when Twilight wasn’t around would burst.

“Sure,” Pinkie said, a cup of coffee between her hooves. “I’m pretty scared too, but I think it’ll be good.”

“Ya got anythin’ specific that’s good ‘bout this?” Applejack asked. “Boy howdy, talkin’ still don’t feel right.” She glanced at Whooves, who looked back somberly. “Anyway, Ah missed y’all sorely; Ah don’t wanna say goodbye so soon, especially to you, Pinkie.”

Pinkie laughed and reached across the bed, hugging Applejack and nearly upsetting her coffee. “Aw, I’m gonna miss you too, AJ! But don’t you see? It won’t be that long, and then I’ll come back and we’ll be even closer to beating Discord! Two Elements to go and the most recent battle won, what’s not to like?”

“If I may step in,” Octavia said. “May I?”

“Of course, sis.”

“I would never have asked any of you to accompany me, though the idea of going alone was a cause of great concern. I believe Pinkie will be perfect for helping me handle what is to come.” She frowned. “That I should need it at all just goes to show my weakness, I suppose.”

“Let’s not start in on that,” Vinyl said.

Octavia nodded.

“It’s my choice, girls, and I wanna do it,” Pinkie said. “I really, really wanna do it, just about as much as I really, really don’t wanna do it, you know?”

“I think we’d all be scared,” Twilight said.

“But it’s a good fear, like the kind that feels all funny and tingly in your tummy, and makes you wanna jump around and do cartwheels and—” She stopped herself. “Well, you get it.” She sipped her coffee.

“Any thoughts, doc?” Big Mac asked. “Ah’m all fer it, myself.”

“Oh, hm, hm, more power to her, I suppose,” Whooves said.

“Are you quite all right?” Rarity asked.

“Not a morning pony?” Vinyl asked.

“Exactly, not one for the dawn,” Whooves said. “No pep in this step ‘til after noon.” He chuckled halfheartedly.

“Fluttershy? Thoughts?” Big Mac asked.

“I support you, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said, nodding. She sat beside Rainbow, sharing a dome of warm air on the bedspread.

“Now that does come as a surprise,” Rarity said.

“If she wants to help, I think she should. Especially considering… well, they’re blood. And that’s thicker than… um, water, I guess.”

“We understand,” Twilight said. She pointed at both of them. “Just you two?”

“I think so,” Pinkie said. “Right?”

“I will not request that anyone join us,” Octavia said. “You all have your own places in this mission, and I would not infringe on that.”

“Idea,” Rainbow said. “We’re heading north anyway, to Trottingham. Let’s just swing by after the battle and pick you two up.”

“If it would not be too far out of your way, I would appreciate it.”

“Don’t go passing up any Elements to get us early, though,” Pinkie said. “We can wait, or ask Luna for a ride.”

“I agree.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Twilight said. “Octavia, do you want me to keep your cello for you, or do you want to bring it along?”

Octavia thought as the others got up and began grabbing bags. “I would like to keep it, please.” She floated the instrument in its case and looked at it. “So strange.”

“What’s strange?” Applejack asked.

She glanced at Twilight, who shrugged. “When we first entered this city, we hid your body inside this case, to not arouse suspicion.”

“Shoot, sorry fer askin’,” Applejack said, laughing. “Ah gotta tell ya, girls, Ah think Ah’m gonna need the full story on my resurrection.”

“Yer not disturbed ‘bout hearin’ it?” Big Mac asked.

“How can Ah possiby? Ah’m alive, ain’t Ah?”

It was seven when everyone boarded their new airship. Big Mac insisted he take the controls, and Applejack agreed with an affable pat on the back. Octavia and Pinkie waited until the balloon was inflated and the turbines were humming comfortably before leaving and watching from the tarmac as their friends merged with the sky. Seven hooves waved back until they were out of sight, and Pinkie let off a final, shrill goodbye before they returned to the hotel.

“When’s Luna bringing us to that angel thingy, sis?” Pinkie asked, bouncing on the bed.

Octavia went immediately to the window. She was used to stepping over bags, discarded clothes, books Twilight had not picked up, or sleeping ponies, but nothing got in her way as she crossed the room. She resisted the urge to turn at the window and absorb the emptiness, a sign more abrupt and cold than her friends’ gradual fade into the sky. “Around eleven. Until then, we have nothing to do. For once.” She tried to see the airship while Pinkie, wriggling with anticipation, climbed back under the covers and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels until she found a news station.

“No turning back now,” Octavia thought. “My only—our only way forward now is with that angel.” She sat down. “This is really happening.”

As she understood it, Discord would be hitting Canterlot like a typhoon in the coming month, and the city had only a depleted Royal Guard and whatever Luna could muster with her own mysterious ponies to defend it. Even victory would be trying on the city, and the inevitability of a fourth battle weighed in the back of her mind, as she imagined it did for the goddesses. By that time, if they had not recovered all six Elements, she saw no possibilities of victory. Their time, so slowly draining away, would finally run out with the last of the capital’s resources. She had threatened it several times, but had never fully imagined it herself.

Her thoughts once more went to her residence, the apartment she had abandoned with neither notice nor forethought. Legally, she had no home, and she knew her career would have dried up by the time she returned, if she did. Most times, when those thoughts surfaced, she could distract herself, but, standing in the empty hotel with her sister on the bed and her friends in the air, there was nothing else to occupy her thoughts.

“And if I—we—fail, then the others will share my fate. If Canterlot falls, there really will be nothing left.”

“You okay, Octavia?”

“I am fine.” She looked at Pinkie, then went to the bathroom and crouched by the toilet as a sudden tide of nausea built inside her. She hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, and could feel hunger sapping at her underneath the illness, brought on, simply, by stress. She breathed heavily as her thoughts ordered themselves, all of them coalescing around one hard point: “no more than I deserve.”

She had passed out on the airship deck when her friends needed her most, and Applewood had been lost. There was no anger in her mind as she reflected, only loathing. She hated her weakness; when it was not of the spirit, it was of the body, both so difficult to overcome, no matter what she thought of her own willpower. She looked into her own eyes in the toilet bowl, hating them.

“You all right in there, sis? You didn’t fall in, did ya?”

Octavia coughed. “Fine, fine. I will be out in a second.”

“You don’t sound too good.”

Octavia hung her head. “I know.”

Luna arrived, again disguised as a bellhop, and waited until after Pinkie tipped her to reveal herself.

“Are you girls ready?”

“Let’s do it!” Pinkie cried.

Luna nodded, and the three of them teleported back to the angel’s chamber. Pinkie gawked and exclaimed as they passed through the crowd of ponies, but Octavia stared straight ahead, trying to clear her mind and taking deep breaths, recovering from the shock of teleportation. With every step, one phrase repeated in her mind: “This is really happening.”

The angel hung just where Twilight had left it, huge and useless-looking in its chain cradle. Pinkie sat on the stone floor and uttered a long, dramatic gasp as she took in the sight. “Wowsers, that’s big! I didn’t know what to expect, but this sure isn’t it! Look at that! One, two… six wings! Six, Octavia!”

“Yes, I see them,” Octavia said. “How do I wake it?”

“I’ll take you aboard,” Luna said. “You have to hit a special place with some magic. Pinkie, you can stay here. We’ll be coming back out.”

“How do we get it out of here?”

“My ponies will handle that. We do want it awake first, though, so there’s no threat of someone else accidentally waking it and making it their own during the movement process. Come along, Octavia.” Luna teleported them inside the machine.

From a shady colonnade outside a movie theater, Whooves had watched the airship take off. There was no crowd to interfere with his view, but he wished there had been. As he was, able to see his friends’ departure unbroken, he was not able to stem all of his self-consciousness, and found himself tearfully waving goodbye to the empty, blue sky, unheeded and painfully aware of himself.

He had only been positive of his decision the night before. Until that point, he had been wavering between two choices that frightened him: stay with the Elements and brave the dangers they were sure to face, or turn away and live with guilt he knew would come.

Twilight had been the deciding factor, which, looking back, did not surprise him. He remembered first meeting her years ago in Ponyville, thinking her charming in her shyness and desirable in her intellect. Her conversation was companionable, her appearance a constant delight, and her presence never failed to brighten his mood. Crossing paths with her and her friends on the coastline had been, for him, a minor miracle.

Then, Roan. With Applejack dead, something had emerged in Twilight that he knew he was not alone in noticing. Where once there was cautious confidence and a warm core of good nature, he was quick to discover instead an unnerving bolt of determination, from where he could not say. Whether it had been inside her all the time or had developed in the dark of her psyche, unseen until its emergence, he had wondered with a fervor he felt was greater than his own minor affections.

Alone, it was enough to bother him. What pushed him, at times of deeper consideration, into outright fear was the fact that no one else seemed as concerned. Those who did not help her supported her, and his was the only dissenting voice. The image of Twilight and Rarity, stolen casket between them, standing in the hotel room could not be erased from his memory, and it was in that moment that he realized he had cast his lot with a much more dangerous group than he thought.

Even so, his decision had not been easy, for he had also to consider the others. He had grown fond of Vinyl and Rarity, despite the latter’s involvement in robbing a mortuary, and he also didn’t like the idea of vanishing so soon after Applejack’s return. It seemed to be in poor taste.

“Still for the best,” he said to himself. Despite his liking for the others, there remained one fact that he could not excuse: he knew of Pinkie’s mistake, one of the three inessential ponies who did, and his absence would unerringly make the secret that much easier to keep. And Big Mac had said it himself, Whooves reasoned. He had the biggest mouth of all of them.

He sat and enjoyed the shade for a minute more, then set off on hoof to find some breakfast. He had no money on him, but hoped he could charm an attractive tourist into letting him join at a table. Barring that, he wasn’t above begging. He had done both before.

Walking down the street, the sight of ponies emerging from their homes or hotels, many still blinking sleep out of their eyes, warmed his heart. He looked back instinctively, then laughed to himself. He’d traveled with the Elements so long, he was accustomed to making sure whomever he was with was keeping up.

He grinned and jogged across the street to a large café, just opening. A few diners had already trickled in and were being seated at tables, and the smell of eggs and fresh fruit made him want to cry for joy as he approached. Veering to one side to examine the patio area, he saw no one who struck his fancy, and he played his approach off as a shortcut to the street beyond. There, he turned around and stared dolefully at the restaurant’s windows, then noticed one of its plantar boxes close by. He grabbed a flower off the top and hastily ate it.

“I saw that,” a passing mare said, giving him a stern look. He smiled and moved on.

Once he reached the edge of downtown, he turned back, knowing that he would be better off exploring deeper into the city, where the neighborhoods outnumbered the tourist destinations. After breakfast, he would need to set his mind to finding somewhere to live, and, after that, a job. So it had been in Ponyville, so it had been on the coast, so it would be in Roan. He whistled a small tune as he looked for someone attractive with food, the idle music enough to keep his mood up and stem any guilt from abandoning his friends.

He stopped briefly in more shade outside a flower shop and nodded a greeting to an approaching mare. She stopped beside him and pretended to check the shop’s hours, though it was clearly open.

She didn’t look up. “Have you eaten yet, doctor?”

“I? No ma’am, I’ve—I’m sorry, do I know you?”

She fixed him with two dark, unsmiling eyes. “Not yet, no. Let’s get some breakfast. My treat.”

He followed meekly, at once amazed at his luck and uncomfortable that the strange mare had appeared to know him. Assuming it was an acquaintance he had forgotten, he began to speak.

“I dare say, I think I’ve always had a little bit of Roan in my heart. I love this town, though, I confess, I’ve not spent much time here.” He laughed, and she didn’t look at him. “I’d actually been eyeing that nearby establishment for a while, but I take you for a local. If you know a place that’s better, then I happily defer to your good judgment.”

“Here’s fine,” the mare said. She got them a table on the patio, near the corner, and waited until they had water and bread rolls before introducing herself. “My name’s Peaceful Meadows, and your name’s Dr. Whooves. At least, that’s what you’ve gone by recently.”

He looked at her and bit into a roll.

“I’m a friend.”

“Why, my dear, I didn’t doubt it,” he said, pretending her words hadn’t lifted a weight off him. “But I have many friends in the world. Perhaps we’ve met over tea in Trottingham, or ale in Applewood?”

“We don’t know each other.”

“We seem to.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought all you were gone. I saw the ship you brought back from the desert, and I saw it leave this morning.”

Suspicion rose in his mind for the first time, and he narrowed his eyes. “What ship?”

“The airship, doctor.” She narrowed her eyes back at him. “Do you think I’m some kind of spy?”

“Oh, hm hm, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t work for Discord, or any of his clowns. I’m a friend of the Mansel family.”

“I—”

“And don’t you dare pretend not to know who they are.”

He swallowed. “Okay, the Mansels. Delightful bunch, are they not?”

“Not to everyone,” she said. “Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“It’s a, um, a long story. Perhaps for when we’re better friends, Miss Meadows.”

“We still need a minute,” Peaceful Meadows said, and the waitress scurried back from their table.

“What exactly do you want? What do they want?” Whooves asked.

“The same thing they wanted days ago. They want to know what happened to Pure Waterfall, and how the Elements were involved. They know the Elements are gone, but not that you’re still here.” She smiled. “It’s lucky I found you.”

“Is it?”

“It could be, doctor. It could be.”

“Soooo… well, Pure Waterfall, he was that CEO, wasn’t he? The dam pony.”

“Yes, him. A valuable client.”

“I heard he was—” He stopped himself. “Money launderer” tingled behind his lips, but he bit it back. “I too heard he was valuable. I suppose being a CEO will do that, no?”

“You were there, weren’t you?”

“Where?”

“Doctor, I have little patience for roundabout conversations with ponies I don’t know, and you are making me wish I’d chosen somewhere less public to conduct this interview.”

“Oh?” He could feel his heart speed up.

“What happened to Pure Waterfall? Just tell me what you know, and we can have breakfast in peace. Look at that poor waitress, she wants to come over here, but she’s afraid I’ll rebuff her again. Look!”

Whooves took his eyes of Peaceful Meadows for just long enough to glance at the waitress. Even though they were in the open, he felt trapped.

“Do it for her sake, lover boy. Tell me what you know.”

“Well…” He forced a chuckle. “It was rather a pell-mell situation, and I’ve no photographic memory, but I’ll do my best.”

“Please.”

He took a long drink of water, and Peaceful Meadows sighed. “Seems to me that Discord, that merciless puppeteer, had Pure Waterfall in his grasp. Metaphorically speaking.” He smiled. “The poor pony had signed over his dam a couple months prior, promising its control for a speedy return to the status quo. It was Discord, and his friend, Vanilla Cream—I dare say you’ve heard of him?”

Peaceful Meadows’ eyes gained a little life as she studied him. “I don’t. Let’s go back to that later.”

“Oh.”

She accepted a refill of water from the nervous waitress. “Proceed, doctor.”

“So Discord had them put in all these big magical alterations to the dam, to the structure of it. When the time came, and I imagine the time was our arrival, or shortly after, he had that cork poised to pop.”

She looked at him, and he smiled back. “You’ll need to be clearer than that.”

“Oh, sorry. Yes, yes, forgive me; I’m a little scattered right now.”

“Then collect yourself.” She stared into his eyes, and he blushed before looking away.

“You might not believe this. How well acquainted would you say you are with the magnitude of his magic?”

She sighed. “Well enough to believe you’re about to say something ridiculous. What did he do to the dam?”

“Er, it’s more a matter of what the dam did to us. It, uh, it walked.”

“Mm hm.”

“No, I mean it!” He looked around quickly, startled at his tiny outburst. “I don’t know the logistics or any such and such, but I know it detached from its cradle and tried to advance on us. It was, er, rather a bit more than luck that we survived.”

“And Pure Waterfall died at some point in this story?”

“I suppose he must have. I wasn’t aware of any harm that came to him.”

“So you never actually saw the pony yourself.”

“To my knowledge, none of us ever did.” He frowned at a roll. “Wait! No, not so. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash did; they met him before the fiasco. And what a fiasco it was, Miss Meadows. Count yourself lucky that you weren’t there for it!”

“Where are the Elements going now?”

“Why, Trottingham. They’ve… hang on, why?”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t. My employers do.”

“Now, Miss Meadows—”

“Who is Vanilla Cream? A friend of Discord, you said.”

“Well… oh, my, is it hot out here? Well, this Vanilla is—again, I’m not up on the logistical side of this—Vanilla is some kind of magical being, something Discord summoned. Not a pony, like you or I. No, not at all.”

“A magical being, like the ghost ship.”

Whooves smiled wide and nodded. “The very same, yes! Well, probably. I’m not positive of it.”

“And what does this Vanilla do? How is he related?”

“Oh, well, he’s a sort of double-agent type, I suppose, to put it in broad strokes. He’s ostensibly on Discord’s side, but throws in and helps us out from time to time just the same. Why, Miss Meadows, he has access to magic that we don’t. Perks from being a summoned pony, no?”

“How does he help?”

“Well, most recently, by pulling us out of Applewood. We—that is, all of us—were about to be run down by this monster dam, and Vanilla popped in and gave us a good old yank.” He bit into another roll. “These are terrific. Want one?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He shrugged. “Anyhoo, that’s how we made it to your neck of the woods so quickly. Teleportation, long-distance stuff.”

Peaceful Meadows nodded. “I see. And this Vanilla Cream. What does he look like?”

“Oh, just about anything, really.”

“He changes his shape.”

Whooves nodded. “Another perk of being a summoned pony.”

“What shape does he take when he’s with you?”

“Ah, yes! Well, when he’s consorting with the likes of us, he’s a stunning white, with a black and white mane. Reminds me of an ice cream cone, with a tapered horn. Beautiful blue eyes, and a bold, black dot as a cutie mark. I imagine he was going for a touch of intimidation on that, wot?”

Peaceful Meadows smiled. “Thank you, doctor. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Now, hang on. Why were you so keen on knowing the Elements’ location?”

“Goodbye, doctor.” She stood and threw a couple bits on the table before leaving, and he stared after her for a second before finding his resolve and giving chase. She was well down the sidewalk before he caught her.

“Miss?”

“Leave me alone, doctor. Our business is concluded.”

“But miss! I simply must—”

In a single, fluid motion, Peaceful Meadows angled her body and kicked out, hitting him in the jaw with a hard back hoof. He coughed and staggered back, and she adjusted her balance as a pair of onlookers slowly backed away.

“Wh-what was that for?” he shouted. “I’m—”

“Shut up,” she said, moving toward him. “I don’t know you, so leave me alone.”

“Well maybe—”

“Leave, sir. Leave me alone.”

“But I just—uh, that is, well—”

“You got no business with me.”

He wiped his muzzle. His lips stung, and he could feel blood pooling in his mouth, but he also felt brave. The pain was not so bad that he couldn’t speak his mind. “And what if I do?”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t.” She was walking away as she said it.

He grinned to himself, but then stopped when he noticed the assurance in Peaceful Meadows’ movement. He had only to repeat what Twilight had told them, and she would listen, and probably more, he thought. The spreading pain in his jaw was reason enough to keep away from her.

“Never mind,” he said to himself, putting his back to her and taking off at a trot. “The good doctor lives to see another day.”

Luna teleported Octavia and Pinkie back to their room and left them, promising to return in a couple hours to escort them to the angel, which would be left in a clear spot in the desert outside town. Octavia had woken it, then ordered it to allow itself to be transported. Luna wanted it awake and ready to go at a moment’s notice; having something like it out in the open outside Roan was a dangerous idea, she explained.

The sisters sat in their separate beds and watched TV, neither saying much. Pinkie had exhausted her questions about the angel before Luna had left them alone, and Octavia was too busy contemplating the next few days to speak. The idea of commanding such a massive machine was personally appealing, and had seemed like a good idea when she suggested it, but, the more she thought, the less certain she was that she had made the right decision. She had no idea how she might use the angel in battle; it had no weapons that she was aware of.

“Wanna play a game, sis?” Pinkie asked.

Octavia glanced at her. “No.”

“Okay.” She fiddled with the sheets. “Why?”

“I am not in the mood.”

“What? Not in the mood for games?”

“I think they left us a deck of cards. Play solitaire.”

“But that’s no fun!”

“I am confident that you can find a way to entertain yourself with them.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Pinkie raced to open it. Octavia’s ears flattened when she heard the voice on the other end.

“Praise the princesses, but I don’t think I can believe my own eyes!” Whooves cried. “I thought you’d left already!”

“Doc!” Pinkie shrieked, hugging him. “Sis, look! It’s the doc!”

“I see him,” Octavia said.

“Just as warm and fuzzy as ever, I see, Miss Octavia,” Whooves said, nodding.

“What happened to your mouth?”

“Oh, this? A little disagreement, that’s all. A rather attractive mare made it abundantly clear that my company was not appreciated.”

“You hound dog, you!” Pinkie cried, patting him on the back.

“Er, yes, that’s right, Pinkie. So I figured I’d return to the home base, as it were, and what do you know? Familiar voices from within.” He sat on Pinkie’s bed, and she with him, their tails entwined. “What fortune!”

“So you did not go with the others,” Octavia said. “Why?”

“Well, you know, differences in opinion, and so forth.”

“Did you have a fight?” Pinkie asked, her concern just as loud as her joy.

“One might not call it a fight, per se, but there was some, shall we say, discomfort. Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself, it’s so good to see you two!”

“What happened?” Octavia asked.

“Well… I felt that, perhaps, a leave of absence might not be wholly unwelcome to them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She narrowed her eyes. “Do they know that you are gone?”

“Uh? Er, well, I would imagine so, yes. By… now, anyway.”

Pinkie gasped. “You mean you didn’t tell them first?”

“Not as such, no,” he said quietly. “I was going to, I swear, but I hadn’t the words. Goodbyes are so hard, and so often end in tears, at least for me. I honestly feel it’s better this way.”

“You coward,” Octavia said.

“I?”

“Yes, you. You abandoned them. Did you at least leave a note?”

Whooves hung his head.

“Pathetic.”

“It’s not my fault! I can’t contain my own feelings, Miss Octavia. Would you ask a sparrow not to fly, a—”

“Shut up. Just shut up, doctor.”

“Did Twilight scare you?” Pinkie asked, rubbing his back affectionately.

He leaned in and accepted a hug. “Perhaps a little, yes. But how could she not?”

“Perhaps you are afraid of what we are planning to do,” Octavia said. “Perhaps you are afraid of our responsibility.”

“Oh, hm, hm, could be so, my dear.” He smiled. “Is not our Twilight emblematic of that, though? She is, after all, a figurehead of determination now.”

“Yeah, she’s great!” Pinkie said. “I really like her now!”

“So what are your intentions?” Octavia asked. “I take it you do not want to find a place to settle down here, since you came back to your room.”

“Well…” Whooves made a show of considering her question. “I had meant to do that very thing, but, now, I’m not so sure. I might need some help.”

Octavia showed her teeth in a sardonic grin. “This should be good.”

“Now now, no need for unkindness, my lady. But yes, I might have inadvertently gotten myself into a can of worms here, in the great Roan. The wonderful mare I met, who gave me this,” he indicated his hurt jaw, “she said she was a friend of that family of yours, the Mansels. Yes, the very same!”

“Did you get her name?”

“Why, yes, I did. Peaceful Meadows, she was called. Ironic, I think, since peace seemed the furthest thing from her mind at the time.”

“She accompanied us to the Mansels’ boardroom,” Octavia said. “What did she want with you?”

“News of what happened in Applewood.”

“Persistent, huh?” Pinkie asked.

“Did you make sure that she did not follow you back here?” Octavia asked.

“Oh, I doubt she’d do that. She seemed much more interested in being rid of me,” Whooves said.

“What did you tell her?” Pinkie asked.

“Well, nothing incriminating, I can tell you that right here, my dear. I told, quite simply, the truth. The truth and nothing but—for even then, I felt—”

“So why’d she thump you? Is it tender? We can get some ice, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to prevail upon you in such a way. Ah, but the punch! Well, I, so curious, approached her after our conversation had concluded, but she was in no mood to tolerate me further. My line of inquiry was cut short by her hoof. What a hit, too!”

Pinkie looked at Octavia, who thought. “I do not see anything wrong with her knowing what happened. If they know that we are not directly responsible for what happened to Pure Waterfall—wait, you did not tell her what you knew, did you?”

“About the money laundering?”

“Not so loud,” Pinkie hissed. “These walls have ears. Mansel ears.”

“Do they?”

“I dunno!”

“Did you tell her, doctor?” Octavia snapped.

“Oh, no, no, not at all,” Whooves said quickly. “The temptation was there, to be sure, but I kept mum. Our knowledge of Mr. Waterfall’s wheelings and dealings is as hidden as ever.”

“Thank goodness for that, at least.”

“But what’s the problem?” Pinkie asked. “If you two went your separate ways, then what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I went hardly half a day away from my friends, and get assaulted by one of the Mansels’ thugs!” Whooves cried. “How am I to know what more they want from me?” He lowered his voice. “How am I to know they might not decide that I’m more use to them dead than alive? After all, I know what happened, and am no Element. I am, to put it bluntly, expendable.”

“So you want to stay in our company, for protection,” Octavia said.

“Well…” Whooves formed a word, but did not speak it as he looked at them. Octavia could see the distress on his face.

“We are going to Canterlot, remember.”

“Yes, yes, I’m recalling that just now. So I can stay here, and risk the Mansels’ charming company, or I can go with you, and go to war. Quite the choice.”

“I say come with us!” Pinkie said. “Two’s company, but three’s so much better!”

“Ah, well, perhaps.” He looked at Octavia, who stared back at him. “What does the lovely Miss Octavia think?”

Octavia sighed. “As much as I dislike you, if you truly are afraid for your life here, then you should come with us.”

He gave a thin smirk. “Such selflessness.”

“I only ask that you not get in the way, when the time comes for us to fight.”

“A coward like me? Never in a million years. I’d be surprised if you even see me for the duration of the battle.”

“You’ll be fine,” Pinkie said. No one smiled.

At ten in the morning, Colgate walked through the empty town of Grass Graves to return to their hotel. She had been up since eight, startled awake by a dream of disembodied, shadowy pony heads, always turning away when she came close to recognizing their faces. The symbolism was not lost on her, even as she strode the streets in a partial daze, sweating and shivering from withdrawal.

She had seen no one on her walk to the train station and back, but felt watched all the same. She moved slowly, not hiding her suspicion as she studied shadows, hoofprints, and anything she felt was out-of-place.

When she arrived, the single pony at the desk told her that her roommate had been anxiously asking about her, and to go back to her room as quickly as possible. Irritably, Colgate trudged to their room.

“Hot shit, Cole, there you are!” Rouge cried, jumping up from her seat. An open bottle of mouthwash sat on the end table. “Where were you?”

Colgate didn’t look at her as she went to the small desk, where she had left their train tickets. She needed only to look at them for a second to re-confirm her suspicions.

“Hey, good morning! Cole, c’mon, what’s up?”

“Rouge, we’re in trouble.”

“Huh?”

“Look at these.” She floated the tickets over to Rouge, who stared at them blankly.

“What am I looking at?” She sat down. “I don’t feel too good.”

“Look at the arrival and departure times. Compare them.”

Rouge rubbed her eyes and glanced at the mouthwash. “Uhhhh…”

“We arrived last night at nine twenty-seven, and we were supposed to catch a train coming back at six-thirty, today. That’s around four hours ago.”

“Oh. Wait, what?” She jumped out of her chair. “Crap, what?”

“Hold it,” Colgate said, taking the tickets back and fanning herself with them. “Think about it, Rouge. Fancy Pants didn’t say anything about hurrying, and he didn’t say anything about not sleeping, even though he knew we’d be getting off in a place with a hotel, and at night. He didn’t warn us about missing our train, even though it would be easy to do if we slept.”

“Well, geez, Cole, maybe he assumed we’d pay better attention to that kind of thing on our own?”

“I considered that. But how about this? Nine-thirty to six-thirty is nine hours.”

Rouge nodded dumbly, and Colgate could still see the tension in her muscles. She was ready to panic.

“Take about a half hour for us to get here from the train station, and a half hour back. So eight hours left. Probably an hour and a half to walk from here to the watchpoint, so that’s three more hours. Now we’re at only five hours for the mission. I don’t know that much about watchpoints, but I’ve been a part of magical inventories before, and those can be pretty time-consuming. I’d be surprised if we finished at the watchpoint in under four hours.”

“And that leaves one extra,” Rouge said. “So?”

“So only one hour, maybe less, for us to prepare, to rest between walks, to eat, and all that. Especially since neither of us has much experience in recent times, it’d take us longer to do the inventory than most others. All of that, Rouge, is without us sleeping.”

“Okay.”

Colgate frowned at her, hating her slowness. “Think about it like this. You and I do nothing, just run around and drink and have fun, for a couple weeks. Then things start heating up, and we get sent on a mission in the middle of nowhere, with a tight schedule that Fancy Pants doesn’t even mention to us. He knows we’re not the best Daturas in the bunch, he has to, and yet he sends us out here without a care in the world.”

Rouge thought for a second. “That is freaky, huh?”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to come back from this mission.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

“What?”

“I dunno about that, buddy.” She sat down and teetered for a second. “Lemme see those ticks again.”

Colgate set them on the bed, and Rouge stared down at them.

“Yeah, that’s not much time. But still, I dunno.”

“I say we go over there and scope it out, see if there’s any kind of trap there, or anyone waiting for us.”

“That’ll definitely prove something.” She swept the tickets off the bed and lay back down. “Crap, how the heck are we gonna get home? How often to trains come by here? Not often, probably, huh?”

“Get ready,” Colgate said, digging through their meager supplies. “I want to see what’s waiting for us.”

The first rule of investigating a possible trap, Rouge had explained after a sobering, freezing shower, was to always assume someone was watching. She and Colgate left the hotel and carried on a false conversation about hoping a train would come by soon so they could get back to town, and split up at the train station, each one circling around one side of Grass Graves to meet in the wilderness outside. They had agreed on a tree they could see from their window.

In Colgate’s mind, her theory did not need confirmation. The facts lined up perfectly, and she had always found Fancy Pants mildly suspicious on his own. His complacency had bothered her from the moment she met him.

The grass was tall and tickled her underside as she made her way through the fields outside Grass Graves. Her ears were up for any sounds of grass moving around her, or for voices. She heard neither, but her attention didn’t waver, even as her patience thinned. She wondered whether Rouge could be trusted to meet her, or would circle back to the hotel and drink more mouthwash. She batted a stalk of grass out of her way, disgusted with the thought.

She could tell that Rouge wasn’t feeling well. Her movement had been sluggish, her eyes filmed, and her fur had lost some of its sheen. The exuberance and pep that so often radiated off of Rouge had been lessened. Colgate knew that she was probably not much better off.

Since going off her painkillers, she could feel her own mind slipping in places. Concentration was difficult, both for magic and for basic thought; she had glowered at their tickets early in the morning for ten minutes before figuring out what the problem was, even though she had spotted that something was amiss almost instantly.

She could ignore the nausea and the headaches, and she could endure the muscle cramps when they came. Even the craving itself, while powerful, was not difficult to divorce from her idea of herself as a living thing; with enough going on outside, she could forget that it was she who was suffering, and simply imagine the drug cravings as empty sensations, uncomfortable feelings to which she was witness but not victim.

It was the chills and the hot flashes that most upset her. As she walked under the autumn sun, she felt frozen inside. Her fur was damp and her hooves shook if she stopped walking, and her whole body twitched and shivered uncontrollably. She felt electric, as though the life inside her had been sapped and replaced with a cold, chemical sludge.

Her eyes watched a butterfly judder across the grass, and she looked back at Canterlot, hate swelling in her chest. In the city, she could be happy; she could find herself, find her medication. She could find purpose there, and power, and leave the sensation of lost determination behind her in the fields.

When she drew closer to the agreed-upon tree, she was relieved, but not happy, to see Rouge coming from the other side, a little ahead of her. Her movement was still unsteady.

“What now?” she asked after they checked for any evidence of followers.

“Well, there it is,” Rouge said, pointing to a broken down house standing by a ridge of trees. “Let’s go for it.”

“How do we check for traps without actually falling into one?”

Rouge leaned against the tree. “I dunno, Cole. Kinda hard with us not knowing what kind of trap it’s gonna be, you know?”

“Let’s see if we’re alone first, then,” Colgate said. “Could be as simple as some thug waiting to bash our heads.”

“You think the Pants would do that?”

“Sure.” She put her forehooves on the tree to stand, giving herself a better look at the house. It was clearly abandoned, its windows broken in and its paint scuffed off in many places. The chimney, the actual point on which all the spells had been cast, leaned to one side, a few holes in its side where bricks had fallen out over the years.

They needed to approach through more thick grass, and did so slowly, ears cocked and eyes wide. At every sound, one of them would stop and look around, and, closer to the house, Colgate began pushing grass out of the way before stepping. There was no fence around the house, no sign of habitation. No tire or wheel tracks indicated travel to or from the watchpoint.

“Move around the house first,” Rouge said. “Secure the area.”

“What if it’s not secure?” Colgate asked.

Rouge looked at one of the broken windows. “We’ll play that by ear, good buddy.”

They walked a slow circle around the house, checking for signs of life, finding nothing. Colgate could feel the faint effervesce of standing magic in the air, something that unicorns could almost universally feel and that others usually only noticed in extreme concentrations.

“Anything?” Rouge asked, making Colgate jump. “Sorry.”

“Idiot,” Colgate muttered.

“Hey, c’mon.”

She was shivering again, and her head felt like it had been squeezed in a vice all night long. She looked through a window to an empty kitchen.

“Don’t be like that, Cole.”

“Sure, sorry,” she said automatically.

“So, anything?”

“I don’t see anything. You?”

“Looks okay to me. Looks like a regular old watchpoint.”

“Do you know what a ‘regular old watchpoint’ looks like?”

“Kinda, yeah. I’ve seen some. Not in C-lot, but down in Applewood, I did a couple.”

They circled back to the front door, unlocked, and Colgate led them inside. The interior was just as barren as the exterior, with countertops and tables faced with dust and cobwebs that had come loose from the ceiling. A petrified log had rolled out of the fireplace.

“Wow, this place sucks, huh?” Rouge asked. “Hey, echo. Cool.”

“Look at this,” Colgate said. She trotted around the dark brown table and pushed out a chair. It was covered in dust, save for a single reed-like swish pattern. “Looks like someone’s tail.”

Rouge laughed and opened a cupboard. “Sure it wasn’t yours?”

Colgate looked down at the chair and shoved it back in. “I was.”

“Hey, no worries. You still got that train ticket thing, and that was smart.” She snapped the cupboard closed and opened a drawer under the sink. “Well, lookee here.”

Colgate joined her. Partially hidden behind the bending pipe, its joints calcified, sat an opaque bottle of rubbing alcohol. Rouge grabbed it, and Colgate noted the dust that was underneath, but had not settled elsewhere. It was not as old as everything else.

As Colgate pondered the significance of her discovery, trying to bully her mind into work through a cramp that was turning her lower half into a ball of wire, Rouge was rummaging in the other cupboards. She finally selected a large spoon from the silverware drawer and set it on the counter with an audacious clack. “Uh, little help? You’re magic.”

“What in the world are you doing?”

Rouge looked at Colgate as if she had uttered the question in another language. “Booze, Cole.”

“That’s isopropyl alcohol. You’re not supposed to drink it.”

“No, you’re not supposed to drink a lot of it. Look, this is only seventy percent. C’mon, I just want a little bump. Like a spoon full, and I’ll be straight. C’mon.”

Colgate weighed her choices; her decision wasn’t hard. She opened the bottle and squeezed out enough to fill Rouge’s spoon, and she held back a laugh as Rouge awkwardly got the alcohol in her mouth. She sputtered and coughed as she swallowed it, but was soon laughing.

“Hoo! That’s wacky stuff, Cole. Want some?”

“Maybe later,” Colgate lied. The cramp was letting up, but her headache was not, and she was in no mood to argue health with Rouge.

“It’s medicine. Doctors treat patients with this stuff all the time, so how bad can it be?”

Colgate shrugged, trying to get a good look at the fireplace interior. A grille of thin chains separated her from the chimney’s dark barrel, and she used Rouge’s spoon to poke it. Nothing happened.

“So you a genius or something?” Rouge asked. “Holy crap, that booze is fighting something fierce, Cole.”

“I told you you’re not supposed to drink it.”

Rouge released a sickened gurgle and nothing more, and Colgate didn’t spare her a look as she continued prodding the grille. When she was satisfied that nothing would happen, she opened it with her hooves and leaned in to look closer at the firewood. It, too, was covered in dust.

Behind her, Rouge slumped to the ground and vomited. It was a fast affair, and she stared dismally into the bitter puddle under her mouth. “Well, this sucks.”

“There’s more on the counter,” Colgate said. “Next time, take it outside. I don’t want to slip in that.”

“Yeah yeah, mom,” Rouge said, moving to the bottle, still open. Instead of waiting for Colgate to help her, she simply grabbed it in her teeth and upended it, where it swiftly flipped away and spilled on the floor in a spray of her choking spit. She went to the floor, coughing and retching, and Colgate approached. She lifted the bottle off the ground, wiped its mouth on her tail, and sniffed it.

The acrid, potent smell made her nostrils flare, and she tried to imagine drinking it. A lone part of her mind commanded that she try it, and, before she had thought about it further, she tipped it up and squeezed a little into her mouth. She spat immediately, not mindful of whether she hit Rouge. Her tongue and gums felt swollen and afire, and no matter how much she spat, she could not rid herself of the sharp residue that accompanied the biting pain.

Rouge moaned, and Colgate took another drink, this time swallowing before she could register a fresh wave of pain. Her throat clenched and her stomach churned, and she grit her teeth, dropping the bottle and spilling more. All she could think was “awful, awful.”

“Nasty stuff, huh?” Rouge asked, and laughed.

“It’s okay.” She went back to the fireplace, but stopped before she could resume her inspection of the logs. Her guts turned somersaults while her eyes strayed up the room’s corner, where a triangle of empty holes had been bored long ago. She looked back at the table, where she had found the displaced dust.

Behind, Rouge pushed herself back up. “No more of that for me, that’s for sure. Wait, where’d you put it?”

“Rouge, are watchpoints usually this empty?”

“Huh?”

“Rouge.”

“Oh, crud, sorry. I’m, uh… uh, not that I remember. In Applewood anyway, I think they typically have, like, a lot of stuff. Living stuff, like food and crap, in case someone has to camp out there.”

“That would make sense,” Colgate said. “And yet there’s nothing at this one.”

“There’s that booze. Where’d it go?”

“Nothing essential here, but some rubbing alcohol for the alcoholic.”

“I’m not—”

“You obviously are, but that’s beside the point. This is a setup.” She scanned the room again, paused to sit down and wait for another bout of cramps to pass, and finished looking around. “I don’t feel very good either.”

“Crazy, huh?”

“Let’s get out of here.” She stumbled to her hooves. “Oh, hell.”

“Here it is.” Rouge took the rubbing alcohol.

“I need that.”

Rouge frowned at the cap on the floor. “Me first.”

“No, not to drink.” She approached as Rouge fought another sip and took the bottle as it tumbled from her grasp. Most of it had been spilled, and Colgate went outside. The yard was filled with weeds, but not overgrown, and she walked all around the house, collecting any dried plants she could find until she had a large bundle gathered around the alcohol.

“Cole, I’m keeping it down this time!”

“Good for you,” Colgate said, passing Rouge as she came outside. “Where’s a good spot for this?”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, this was a setup, so I’m gonna burn it down.” As an afterthought, she added, “we’ll get more booze at the hotel before heading home. Too much of this stuff’ll blind you, anyway.”

“Shit, really?”

She knew it as a fact, but only said, “I’ve heard that, yeah.”

“Huh. Now that’s… uh, hold on.” She trotted into the tall grass, and Colgate could hear her throwing up as she spread her dried grass around the corner of the house and soaked it with the remaining alcohol.

Without looking around, without seeing whether Rouge was a safe distance away, she leaned down and cast a simple spell to produce a couple sparks at the tip of her horn. She had just enough time to back away before the bundle had become a modest fireball. “Let’s go,” she said, patting Rouge on the back.

“Guh. Hurts a lot worse coming back up.” She turned around. “Whoa, I thought you were joking.”

Colgate doubled over, sweat coursing out of her skin, stomach cramping and burning like a red hot ball of metal. She went to her knees and split her face in a silent retch.

“You gonna be okay?”

Colgate shook her head, words beyond her.

“We might wanna, uh, get out of here. Once that house gets hot, we’re gonna burn up pretty good.”

“I’ll be fine,” Colgate whispered.

“No, Cole, you don’t understand,” Rouge said, fear beginning to overtake her voice. “House fires are hot. Like, you’re sweatin’ twenty feet away.”

“I’m sweating now.”

“You know what I mean, buddy. Aw, crap, you used the last of the booze, huh?”

Colgate spat and tried to get up, succeeding only in rolling over to stare into the sky, filling at the edge of her eyes with strands of smoke. “Rouge, can you shut up about the booze for two seconds?”

“Oh, shit, sorry, Cole.” She shielded her eyes. “You know, you could’ve asked me before wasting all that.”

“It’s rubbing alcohol, for Celestia’s sake,” Colgate growled. “You keep puking it up.”

“That’s not the point!”

Colgate rolled over again and got up. “Fine. If it’s so important to you, go get it. The bottle might not have melted completely yet.”

“Screw you, buddy.”

Colgate flashed her a guarded glare and kicked her puddle of vomit, splashing a little on her chest and a lot on the grass.

“C’mon, let’s not fight out here,” Rouge said more kindly. “It’s getting really toasty. Let’s get out of here.”

“Right, right,” Colgate said. She didn’t know whether she felt guilty for her minor outburst.

Together, they walked and stumbled through the meadow as the fire behind them grew, a pillar of darkening smoke rising to divide the blue horizon.

Luna, Octavia, Pinkie, and Whooves stood in the hottest part of the afternoon, only slightly dampened by a shelf of storm clouds, in the desert outside Roan. The angel lay peacefully in the dirt, its six wings forming two sides of a huge, rough metal rib cage. There was room in the angel for around ten ponies comfortably.

“It will follow your orders to the best of its ability,” Luna said. “Remember to address it first. Say ‘angel,’ and then give your command. If you don’t address it, it won’t respond.”

“I understand,” Octavia said. She shifted the cello case on her back.

“I know it looks unwieldy, but it can fly, and I believe it can fly pretty fast if you want it to. We searched it quite well, and found no weapons.”

Octavia nodded.

“It’s not exactly easy on the eyes, is it?” Whooves asked.

“I think it’s kinda charming,” Pinkie said. “Kind of. In a creepy, coffin-y way.”

“I suppose that’s appropriate.”

Luna stifled a chuckle, and Octavia looked at her. “I’d actually like to come with you for a couple minutes. I want to talk with you about something.”

“Is it bad?” Pinkie asked.

“Not for you.” She looked at Octavia, then the angel.

“Oh, sorry. Angel, let us board you,” Octavia said, and the machine leaned to one side, half of its wings retracting to allow its strange, seed pod body to rest on the ground.

When they were aboard, it righted itself without being asked, and Whooves fell over.

“Does it know we’re on it?” Pinkie asked. “If Octavia tells it to take off, are we gonna fall off the side?”

“Angel, fly, and keep us level,” Octavia said, looking down at the corrugated floor. Around them, the gunwales were thin cords of metal, only chest-high and with ample room beneath for a leg or more to slip out.

The wings scraped against the desert floor and swung upwards, once, slicing the air in a heavy, slow sound. They lifted off smoothly, much smoother than the wings’ appearance suggested, and were quickly aloft. Off the ground, the wings were silent, even their joints inside the angel’s connective sockets. As Octavia had ordered, it stayed level, and they were able to walk freely, though with occasional corrections as they dipped and rose. Octavia set down her instrument after a moment of consideration.

“See? It knows how to take care of you,” Luna said. “Be careful with your orders, Octavia. Anything too complicated, it probably won’t understand. No ‘if-then’ orders.”

“That is good to know.”

“Now, to business. Oh, be sure to tell it where it’s going. We’re flying the wrong way right now.”

“Oh, I apologize.” She cleared her throat. “Angel, fly towards Canterlot. Does it know where that is?”

“Tell it to fly north for now. You can get more specific as you get closer.”

“Angel, fly north.”

They turned sharply, still level, and coasted back toward Roan.

“Angel, take us around that city.”

Luna nodded. “Very good. No one else needs to see this.”

“So what’s the biz, princess?” Pinkie asked. “Element stuff? Discord stuff? You stuff?”

“Financial stuff.” She smiled a humorless smile. “Octavia, you said something about this Pure Waterfall laundering money for the Mansel family.”

“I believe I recall that, yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Planning a criminal hunt, your highness?” Whooves asked. “No more fitting a family, if I say so myself.”

“I did not hear of this personally,” Octavia said, craning her neck to look out over Roan. From the air, the completeness of the city was astonishing. She had grown so accustomed to seeing fragments in their travels that not doing so was strange. It almost filled her with dread; the appearance was too final, and it disconcerted her.

“Who told you?”

“Vanilla Cream told Twilight, and she told us. I am quite certain that is why they were so interested in what we were doing in Applewood. If their money launderer has perished, and we were involved, then it makes sense that they would suspect us of something.”

“Interesting,” Luna said slowly. “Why would Vanilla say that?”

“Can you confirm it?” Pinkie asked.

“I cannot. However, it would not be entirely surprising.”

“It would not?” Octavia said.

“The family’s always been wealthy, fabulously so. Let’s say it’s been… advantageous to not look as closely into their personal dealings as certain others.”

“How is that?”

“Well, they have quite the share of political clout,” Whooves said.

“Exactly,” Luna said. “If the Mansel family were to lose its money, or its good face, a lot of ponies in Canterlot would be very unhappy. A lot of powerful ponies.”

“But they are criminals,” Octavia said. “You cannot allow them to go unpunished, your highness.”

“No, I’m not suggesting that. If they’re truly laundering funds, as Vanilla Cream says, then there will need to be action. I’m actually more alarmed at the implications than the fact itself. What sort of things are they involved with to produce enough money to need the entire dam to launder their money?”

“I do not know.”

“Rhetorical question.” She sighed. “This is going to be delicate.”

Octavia only stared at her, inscrutable.

“I will need to keep this calm and diplomatic back in Canterlot. Like I said, a lot of ponies will be very angry if the Mansel family goes down. They control the largest chain of banks in the south. There’s a lot of money to be lost here.” She sighed again. “Don’t worry about it, Octavia. You need only to worry about the coming battle. I’m going to have more of my ponies focus their efforts on disrupting Tartarus gateways; hopefully, that’ll distract Vanilla. The last thing I want is for him to notice you three coming and report it to Discord.”

“Maintaining the element of surprise,” Whooves said, nodding. “A wise decision, your highness.”

Luna gave him a withering look that he didn’t notice. “Thank you.”

“What can we expect from the battle?” Octavia asked. “Is anything known?”

“I’ll have the Royal Guard helping as much as it can, as well as several of my own personal ponies, some on the ground and others coming from Ponyville in a caravan, also a surprise. You’ll see siege engines with my cutie mark on them; do not attack those.”

“Yes.”

Luna appraised the three of them. “As for what we can expect from Discord, I’m not sure. I’ll keep in touch.” She shook Octavia’s hoof, then Pinkie’s, then, after a pause, Whooves’. “I can’t thank you enough for this, truly. It’s an incredible risk you’re taking, especially you, Pinkie.”

“It must be done,” Octavia said, shrugging. “I would be a coward not to do this.”

Luna smiled softly. “I need to take my leave now. I’d love to stick around and chat, but I’m needed in several places.”

“The life of a goddess is never easy,” Whooves said. “It’s been wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness!”

“And you, doctor. Stay safe, everypony. I’ll keep an eye on you as well as I’m able.” In a silent flash of light, she was gone, off to parts unknown.

Many miles north of Octavia’s angel, Twilight and her friends were relaxing on the deck of their new airship, its flight much steadier than the angel’s. Twilight and Rarity were taking turns relaying the details regarding Applejack’s resurrection, something to which Twilight had objected at first.

“So that’s where ya got that casket,” Applejack said, and laughed. “Hoo-wee, now that’s a story. Ah’d’a thought you’d’ve just bought it or somethin’.”

“That was the first idea,” Rarity said. “But, well, it didn’t work.”

“Ah’ll say.” She chuckled again.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” Rainbow said.

“Why shouldn’t Ah?”

“Well… ugh, I don’t know. Isn’t death bad? Wasn’t it, like, really terrible?”

“Sure, it was terrible, least at first. If Ah didn’t have Princess Luna to help me out, it would’ve been a lot worse.”

“We’re all quite fortunate,” Rarity said.

“Don’t get me wrong, RD, it weren’t no picnic,” Applejack said. “Ah had plenty of questions at first. The night princess walked me through it all. Bless her, she’s patient.”

“Well, you did just do something most ponies don’t even know is possible,” Twilight said. “What was… um, what was it like? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Shoot, Twi, Ah don’t mind. But Ah’m not too sure. It’s hard to put into words.”

“Did it hurt?” Rainbow asked.

“Psh, no. Ah didn’t know what ‘hurt’ was then. There ain’t no sensation in death, not my version.”

“None at all?” Big Mac asked. He was at the wheel.

“Nothin’. Ah wanna say everythin’ was dark, but Ah couldn’t see either, so that ain’t right. ‘Blank’ is better, but that still doesn’t do it justice.”

“I guess we’ll all know in time,” Rarity said.

“Geez, Rare,” Rainbow said. “Wanna warn us before you drop something like that?”

“Sorry.”

“Vinyl, Ah wanna thank you especially fer helpin’ out,” Applejack said. “You don’t hardly know me, an’ you still pitched in.”

Vinyl blushed and looked at her hooves. “Not knowing you made it easier.”

“What’s that? Sorry, Ah fergot how quiet y’are.”

Vinyl repeated herself, and Applejack laughed good-naturedly.

“I’m just glad to see you so happy and at ease,” Twilight said.

“Much unlike you, Twilight,” Rarity said. “Just saying.”

“No, I’m aware of it. I’ve been keyed up for a while now.”

“Whooves is afraid of you,” Vinyl said.

Twilight smiled. “I noticed.” There was a moment of silence. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Huh?” Rainbow said.

“He’s not here,” Rarity said, looking around. “Oh.”

“What the hay? How did that happen?” Twilight asked. She sighed. “Crap, let’s turn back.”

“Let’s not,” Vinyl said, holding up a hoof.

“Why?” Rainbow asked. “Not that I’m objecting.”

“Doubt it’s an accident. More likely he chose this.” She shrugged, her horn lighting up a dark fuchsia.

“You think he abandoned us,” Fluttershy said.

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Big Mac said. “Seems the type.”

“I agree,” Vinyl said. “Noticed him being quieter these last few days. More aloof. Probably thought about it for a while, finally made a break for it.”

“What a coward,” Rarity said. “And he didn’t even leave a note.”

“It would’ve been excuses and long-winded apologies anyway,” Rainbow said.

“Still, dear, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Yeah, and here, there is none,” Fluttershy said.

“Yowza, Fluttershy with the beatdown,” Vinyl said.

“‘Fluttershy with the beatdown’?” Rainbow said.

Vinyl laughed.

“So we just go on without him?” Twilight asked. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh, who cares?” Rarity asked.

“Ouch,” Applejack said.

“AJ cares,” Big Mac said, and chuckled.

“You quiet down there, big bro.”

“I say good riddance,” Rarity said. “He was hardly any help, and often just background noise. He was the very definition of inessential.”

“I don’t disagree,” Vinyl said, “but I kind of liked him. He was cute.”

“He was cute, sure,” Twilight said.

“Watch out, AJ, Twilight’s after your coltfriend,” Rainbow said.

“RD, don’t you start up. Ah may be recently back from the dead, but I’ll whup ya.”

Rainbow laughed, but, like everyone else, sobered.

“Ah can just hear him makin’ some kinda comment right now. ‘Well that’s one way to stop a conversation, ha ha.’ Or somethin’.”

Twilight fell back in laughter, and Rarity looked at her, smiling queerly.

“Yer a peach, sis,” Big Mac said, grinning himself.

“Too bad Pinkie’s not here to enjoy this,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, too bad,” Twilight said, standing again. “Still, we won’t be apart for too long. We—whoa, hold on.” Her horn burned and a small flame flickered out, and she had to react quickly to catch the letter before it was whipped off the deck.

“What do you think? Princesses, or Discord?” Rarity asked.

“I say Celestia,” Vinyl said. “Checking in. Doesn’t know Luna just dropped by.”

“Ah say Discord,” Applejack said. “Now’s a good time to hear from him. Spirits are up.”

“Including yours,” Rainbow said.

“Damn,” Vinyl breathed.

“RD, that was downright gutsy of you,” Applejack said, patting her on the back. “My word, it’s good to be back.”

“Okay, here we go,” Twilight said. “Crap. Discord.”

“Oh boy, Ah won.”

“Dear Elements and friends, how’s life? I’ve been preparing for my move against your capital, as I’m sure you know, and all this setup has been the death of me. Happily, most of it’s ready. Are you? You still have three Elements to go, remember. A hint, if I may: watch the skies. Adequate preparation for your next stop will be vital. Say hello to the princesses if you see them again. I would, but I’ll probably be too distracted when I visit Canterlot. All in good fun, Discord.” She balled up the letter. “Useless.”

“At least it was short this time,” Fluttershy said.

“So what are we preparing for?” Vinyl asked. “Next stop is Trottingham.”

“What are we watching the skies for?” Rarity asked. “He didn’t make another of those horrid ghost ships, did he?”

“Princess Luna would have told us,” Twilight said.

“Unless—”

“No, she’d know. She watches for those types of things. She, or her ponies. Whoever they are.”

“Secret agents,” Rainbow said.

“Could be,” Applejack said. “After everythin’ lately, there really could be.”

By one o’ clock, Colgate and Rouge were back in their hotel in Grass Graves, staring stupidly at the TV. There was a warrant out for Colgate’s arrest, and Rouge’s likeness and name were beginning to appear as well, but only as a pony of interest. The severity of it landed on neither of them, smacked out of their minds on mouthwash and, in Rouge’s case, another bottle of rubbing alcohol from their first aid kit.

“I’m gonna puke,” Rouge said, and Colgate automatically leaned the other way while Rouge put herself to the side of the bed to look down at a clean patch of carpet. She had announced her illness more times than Colgate could count, but she still turned away, just in case.

Colgate’s head felt fuzzy and heavy, and she would occasionally catch glimpses of the smoke pillar from their window. The fire had not lasted, though no firetrucks had made their way out to the countryside; she assumed that a team of Daturas had seen to her conflagration. She felt no pride and no anger; only a dull, dead hunger. She needed her pills.

“All systems clear,” Rouge mumbled, easing back into her spot on the bed. “No go. Pass me a… uh, pass me. It. You know.” She lay back and sighed at the ceiling while Colgate drifted the mouthwash over. She considered spilling it on Rouge, but did not, deciding to wait until the next time she was asked.

“We should get back,” Colgate said.

“Back home?”

“Sure, that.”

“I think so too.” She took a swallow of the blue liquid and coughed, rocking the bed. “This stuff is rotten, Cole. Oh, wait a sec.” She leaned over, and Colgate leaned her way, this time hearing Rouge produce the vomit she had been promising since halfway to the hotel. The room was immediately filled with a cloying, minty smell that almost burned Colgate’s eyes.

She got up. “Need a towel?”

Rouge coughed in response, and Colgate looked at the mouthwash. Plucking it up, she gingerly tipped it over onto Rouge’s spot on the bed and walked to the bathroom to examine herself. Her head was swimming, her pupils dilated, her eyes unfocused. Her fur was patched in ash, her mane tangled, her horn dull and sandy. Her tongue was coated in thick, blue-white film.

“I’m okay,” Rouge said from the other room.

Colgate ran the faucet and tried to rub a spot of ash out of her side, succeeding only in smearing it across her flank.

“Hey, I think we finished the booze, buddy.”

“That’s okay. I think we should get back home soon.”

“The hotel?”

“Yes, the hotel.” Her temper momentarily flared, but no action came to mind.

“Yeah, okay, that should be… should be fine. Hey, lemme get some sleep first, huh?”

“The pulse crystals are still there.”

“Aw, crud.” Rouge began snoring.

Colgate took a two-hour shower, half of which was spent throwing up until all she could produce was a foul, black bile, and then she stumbled into the room to see Rouge still asleep, lying on her side with a puddle of vomit under her muzzle.

“Wake up, Rouge,” she said, knowing Rouge would be too intoxicated to hear. Frustrated nonetheless, Colgate took a corner of the TV in her magic and pulled until it was poised to tip onto the carpet. “Hey, Rouge,” she said again, quieter. When Rouge did not stir, Colgate nudged the TV, and it went to the floor, its cord snapping out of the wall and its stand crunching as an outside edge was suddenly crushed.

Rouge bolted awake at the sound of shattering glass, and Colgate stared down at the mess, pretending to be surprised. Shards of glass littered the carpet while an acrid tendril of smoke rose from the black casing, and Rouge shook her head.

“What’s going on?”

“Come on, naptime’s over,” Colgate said.

“Did you do that?”

“No, I just heard it and rushed out.” She pointed to her mane, still damp. “I was in the shower.”

“Oh, sweet. How was it?”

“Water pressure’s not great.” She looked at the TV. “You sure you didn’t do that?”

“I think so,” Rouge said. She looked down at the bedspread, blinking slowly as she processed the stain under her face. “Good thing I slept on my side, huh?”

“How do you feel?”

“Still not great. Hungry, actually. Wanna get room service?”

“They’re not going to serve us with that in here. We need to get out before anyone wises up.”

“You think so?” Rouge’s eyes were wide. “Is it that bad?”

“You tell me. Look at all this glass. That’s a safety violation. We really ought to go before we get caught up in the middle of it.”

Rouge got out of bed. “I’m glad you’re on top of this kinda stuff, Cole, I really am.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

“What about the bill?”

“I took care of it already.”

Rouge laughed. “The Mighty Colgate to the rescue!”

The four o’ clock sun saw Colgate and Rouge walking along the solitary set of train tracks that would eventually lead them back to Canterlot. According to the schedule board at the platform, the next train was set to arrive in two days’ time, so they decided, with some reluctance, to walk. They could probably stay the extra in Grass Graves, Rouge had thought, but Colgate was right: no one would want them in their town after a broken TV.

The only problem was that, in the excitement of slipping through the gift shop and away from the hotel, they had both forgotten their hunger. Out in the middle of nowhere, with only their one saddlebag between them and minimal supplies, food was at the front of both their minds. The grass was no good to eat; most of it was dead.

“At least we have water,” Rouge said, smiling at Colgate.

“Sure.” She had her eyes on her hooves, paying no attention to what was in front of them, trusting Rouge to alert her to anything strange ahead. With the fresh toxins finally clearing her system, she was able to think more clearly, and the first thing she remembered was why she had given up drinking in favor of prescription pills.

“How much trouble could I have gotten in earlier, all because of Rouge’s idiotic drinking? I can’t believe no one caught us after that little TV stunt.” She smiled in spite of herself. “Pretty good of me to do all that without their notice. I don’t remember it, though. Damn it, Rouge.”

“Hey, I just thought of something we should probably talk about,” Rouge said.

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw you on the TV earlier today. You’re, like, under arrest, I think.”

Colgate thought back. “Something like that.”

“How we gonna get back to our crystals, Cole? They’re probably watching the hotel as we speak.”

Colgate registered the words, but they didn’t spark any response in her crowded mind. She continued to watch her hooves as they moved through the grassland. She remembered her lonesome walk back to Ponyville after the other Daturas betrayed her, and found it strikingly similar. Even with Rouge beside her, she felt alone.

“Hey, Cole? I don’t like it when you get quiet. That usually means you’re gonna yell at me.”

“Just thinking,” Colgate said, pushing an insult back. She needed Rouge, she knew, and would for a while.

“Well, I’m thinking about those crystals. Remember those?”

“We’ll get them when we get there.”

“Well, yeah, sure, but how, Cole? How? You’re a wanted pony now.”

“We’re Daturas, they’re just cops. Should be no sweat.”

Rouge was silent for a second. “That’s a darn good point, buddy. Why didn’t I think of that? Celestia, I’m hungry. Hey, let’s get room service after we get the crystals, huh? How ‘bout it? I think I’m gonna get a big, fat cherry pie.”

By ten p.m., they were walking past the outermost house of Lower Canterlot. Both hungry, tired from the walk, and painfully sober, they looked at the lit structure with unconcealed envy as they passed. Colgate had been trying, unsuccessfully, to conceive a plan for retrieving their pulse crystals—her pulse crystals, in her mind. No matter the sense of urgency or importance, no idea stuck long enough for her to give it more than passing consideration. She needed her pills.

They passed a second house on the other side of the street, still unpaved, and Colgate saw furtive eyes peering at them from a slit in the curtains. She gave the house a friendly nod, simply to show that she had seen her watcher.

“We’re gonna need to have a plan on getting back to the hotel,” Rouge said. “You’re wanted now. I don’t think they’re gonna let you in easy. Right?”

“I was just assuming we’d run in, grab our stuff, and run out before anyone can do anything,” Colgate said, thinking of it on the spot. “That’s been my plan since the start.”

“That might work, but I dunno. It’s a little dangerous.” She paused in her walk. “Hey, wait a minute, what about after that, huh? Where are we gonna go if they recognize us at the hotel?”

“That’s a good point.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“Your friend probably wouldn’t appreciate us potentially dragging the cops with us back to her place.”

“Which friend? Actually, yeah, no, none of them would really be keen on that. Well, crap, Cole, and it’s too late to turn back. We gotta get somewhere tonight.”

Colgate shook her head. She wanted to think about her predicament, but the pony in the curtains had taken all her attention. The eyes, and her nod to them, made her nervous.

“We could sneak in, spend the night in our room, and get a fresh start tomorrow,” Rouge said. “How about that? It’s a dingy, crappy place, I bet they don’t have a great security situation.”

Colgate shrugged.

“I recognize that shrug, good buddy. You’re not listening, are you?”

“I’m listening just fine.”

“So what do you think of my plan?”

“It sounds great. Let’s do it.” She hadn’t paid the plan any attention.

“Now that’s what I like to hear! But how do we do it?”

Colgate looked up at Greater Canterlot, looming, as Rouge thought through her plan out loud. From it, Colgate gathered what she had agreed to.

“But, the only problem is, no room service. Oh, well, we could have it delivered to a different room, and then just catch ‘em in the hall. ‘Hey, sorry, wrong room number, but that was me. Yeah, the giant cherry pie and the bottle of red wine. Yup, right here.’ Cole, you likin’ this as much as me?”

“You’ll have to be the one to get our food. I can’t show my face,” Colgate said.

“Yeah, true. That shouldn’t be a problem. Hell, you wanna get in one last swim before we have to leave?”

“That sounds good.”

“Yeah, your last swim as a free mare.”

“A free mare?”

Rouge forced a laugh. “Well, you’re sure not getting away with all this, you scamp. Someone’ll catch you.”

“I doubt that very much.” In her mind, she was speaking directly to the Canterlot police. The warmth of defiance filled her chest with a pleasant lightness.

“Well, if you run, you’re still, you know, on the run. Leave town, and you’ll be wanted elsewhere, probably. You gotta be cagey wherever you go.”

“There are Datura safe houses. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that. Hey, Cole, no matter what, though, don’t leave me hangin’, okay?”

“What do you mean?” She sensed the conversation’s sudden turn, and quieted her voice accordingly. A conscious decision.

“If you have to skip town or something, just try to drop me a line sometime, okay? You’re my number one, and I’d hate to lose ya.”

“I’ll keep in touch.”

“Good, good. That’s all I ask, I guess.” She looked at Colgate, who plodded resolutely on, into the city. “Oh, one more thing. Make sure you remember me whenever you’re getting trashed with your new friends.”

“You’re talking like me leaving is an inevitability.”

“Isn’t it? One pony sure can’t hide from the whole police force, even if she is a Datura.”

“I’ve managed so far, and with someone with me too. I’d think going it alone would be easier.”

“Mmm, I dunno. Guess it depends on who you ask.” Her stomach growled. “If I don’t get that pie and wine tonight, I’m gonna die.”

“We’ll be fine,” Colgate said. She looked back at the house they had passed and saw a pony enter one of the cars by the side of the road. They continued walking, and the car never started.