In the buttery dawn light, deep in the Everfree Forest, Flitter and the other two spotters practiced with Windy Weathervane inside his odd, cramped, lotus-shaped ship, as they had all that week. Sometimes, they raced amongst the trees, practicing tight maneuvering, and sometimes they flew underneath the edge of the land.

On days when they were to be in the open air between Equestria and the rest of the world, Windy Weathervane would bring a black briefcase and set it down on the beach towel where they kept their things. With a gentle nudge, he would open it and allow its shining, spherical contents to spill out and roll harmlessly off the edge; Flitter thought he was going to make them try to catch them when she first saw it.

It turned out to be the opposite. The spheres—unmarked, metal balls, much the same in form to the magic that pursued Colgate nearly fifty miles to the north—floated in air, bobbing harmlessly like lures. During one of their lunch breaks, Flitter finally overcame her fear of going over the side alone, and soared with the metal balls.

They were called chasers, Windy said. With a pony, they were no threat, but, allowed to move on their own and left too close to a strong source of magic, like their airship, they would be swiftly and relentlessly attracted. Their training, on those days, consisted of evading and parrying the chasers, an act that always left Flitter in a state of mingled dizziness and elation.

“Ten on the three,” Flitter said from her station, and, inches from her muzzle, the mechanism snapped into place and one of the ship’s many fins flipped up to bat a chaser away. Though she had gotten used to the proximity to so many moving parts, she was not used to the ship’s transparency. She felt she could see everything too clearly, and it sometimes made her uneasy.

Behind her, another spotter called out a pair of numbers: positional directions, the first to indicate horizontal orientation, the second vertical.

“Okay, ladies, we’re going to do something a little more exciting now,” Windy Weathervane said as they looped away from the chasers for a second. Flitter could see the smile on his face, and hid one of her own.

Without a word more, he pulled hard on a lever, and they were flying straight down toward a checkered floor of soot-gray clouds below. Flitter’s stomach turned, but she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t see the ground behind them, but could tell that it would be receding quickly if she turned back.

The air around them shrieked as the clouds rose up to meet them, and Flitter shifted uncertainly in her seat. She could feel the air pressure changing in her ears, and she could see, beyond the clouds’ rim, the shapes of land features, small but grand. She knew they had probably descended a hundred or more feet in the space of a minute, and they weren’t stopping.

Finally, unable to resist, she turned for a quick peek behind. The play of shadow and light through the shell of her world had never been so structured; beams and columns of light appeared to hold up a loft of shadowy earth far above them, their edges soft as if with magic, as if they had entered into the enchanted foundation of the world. Her keen eyes perceived, as well, needles of flame, and she realized with a start that they belonged to the chasers.

“We’re gonna turn around in a second here,” Windy said. “We’re gonna fly through our little buddies up there and get back to the forest, just as quick as we can. Ready?”

Flitter looked back where she was supposed to, a bolt of fear causing her to tense her wings against the seat back. She had never felt so vulnerable and so lost, hurtling through pure open space. She doubted she could fly back to safety on her own, if she had to.

Her cockpit was outfitted with a U-shaped cushion that went around her head, which always messed up her mane and often made her neck sore after a day of practice. In the space of a single second, Flitter realized its use as the world flipped around and almost tossed her out of her seat. No longer was she facing the storm that raged on the planet’s surface. She had only a moment to react as they entered into the concentrated storm of flaming chasers, the first one glancing off their side and sending sparks raining across their face as Windy Weathervane hit it with a fin and sent them spiraling upwards at a fast approaching pair of fireballs.

“Eight-two!” Flitter cried, shrinking back as the chaser disappeared in a sickening mixture of serene blue and pins of spitting white. They spun a full rotation only, long enough for her to get a look at the fast diminishing clouds below, and then spun back the other way as a different spotter cried out a direction. To her other side, the third spotter was watching their back, watching as the chasers turned their meteoric descent into a meteoric rise. More sparks flashed across the clear pane of enchanted wood that kept them contained.

Voices, her own often mixed in, began to escalate and overlap as chasers veered in from multiple sides. Numbers and corrections, as numerous as the embers that traced white hot striations across her eyes, flew inside the airship, and Windy Weathervane cackled as they wove and bounced upwards through the maelstrom of their own creation. Flitter’s ears popped without her noticing.

“Ready for the grand finale?” Windy Weathervane hollered when the voices died down. With all the chasers once again behind them, the ground was drawing near, and Flitter could see trees on a few inside edges.

No one replied, and he steered them, still at their earlier speed, in a wide circle and then at an oblique angle directly toward an edge. Flitter saw it early, but one of the other spotters did not, and screamed as they burst into the open mouth of a river. Water roared over their heads while silt billowed below, and, only a few seconds after, Flitter heard the enraged hiss of the superheated chasers hitting the water behind them.

They came to a rest on top of a wide, flat stone, and allowed the metal balls to catch them, streams of bubbles still rising from their surfaces as they gently adhered to the airship. Once the bubbles had stopped, Windy Weathervane floated them out and over to the starting area.

“Now was that a way to start the day, or wasn’t it?” he asked, puffing his chest and taking a deep breath of the brisk, morning air. “Ahhh. Nothing like it! And a fine job you all did, too. Composure mostly intact, as it should be.”

“How do you keep all our commands straight?” one spotter asked. “I could never follow three voices at once.”

“It’s actually not your voices I listen for, precisely, it’s the patterns. Why else would I impress the importance of standardized communication, hm? Let’s take a breather. Oh, and don’t touch the chasers; they’re still quite hot."

Everyone trusted Twilight and Fluttershy to represent their interests to Gold Ribbon, so, while the two of them were in his office, everyone else went out for breakfast. At sunrise, they had taken off and flown over to the mountains, where there clung a small village of stone and moss to the aqueduct ruins, long ago dried up.

“This used to be the center of Equestrian commerce,” Vinyl said over a flute of white wine. They sat on a cracked dais, its surface embossed with depictions of ponies carrying jugs and pitchers of water. Once the crown of a multi-channeled tower, it had been converted into a patio for the few ponies with money enough to eat out. They had been served by a courteous, but poorly groomed, earth pony with a grape vine cutie mark, Trottingham’s answer to Ponyville’s generic hourglass mark. Only a couple other diners were in view, but Vinyl, Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow, and Big Mac had the patio to themselves.

“We were here when it was still active,” Applejack said. “Ah’d say it was probably on the decline then, but nothin’ too severe had happened yet.”

“We fought a monster here,” Rainbow said. “On the vineyard, actually. I think you can see it from here.”

“It’s probably overgrown by now,” Rarity said.

“Hope not.” She stood up to get a better look. “Eh, I can’t see it. Maybe you’re right.”

“What kind of monster?” Vinyl asked.

“A bunch of barrels.” She grinned at Vinyl’s skeptical look. “Discord got a bunch of wine barrels and stuck ‘em together, then made them come alive.”

“Like a golem,” Applejack said. “That’s the word, right?”

“You must have defeated it, since you’re all right here,” Vinyl said.

“It was no sweat,” Rainbow said.

“Yes it was,” Applejack said. “We had a bad time of it. Twi wound up with a concussion, if Ah recall.”

“That’s right,” Rarity said. “It wasn’t easy, Vinyl.”

“Still, you did it,” Vinyl said. “That must have felt good.”

“Only once we’d gotten out of here. There was… quite a bit more unpleasantness than that.”

“Yer referrin’ to the Astras an’ Thunderhead?” Applejack asked.

“Yes, and Octavia’s little stunt with their crow.”

“Now this I have to hear about,” Vinyl said.

“Do ya know what we’re talkin’ ‘bout when we talk ‘bout their crow?” Big Mac asked.

“Oh yeah. I’ve wanted to see it for as long as I can remember.”

“You might get the chance,” Rarity said. “They’re still out there somewhere, and we still have one more Element to go. Who knows where we’ll have to go?”

“Have we decided, ladies?” the waiter asked, bowing as he did so.

They placed their orders, and Vinyl got a refill on her wine.

“So, the crow?” she asked. “Octavia did something with it?” Her horn glowed a soft sepia. “Of course it would be her. She’s reckless.”

“She’s saved us too many times to count,” Rainbow said.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“But she is,” Applejack said. “Yer right on the money on that.”

“She rode it,” Rarity said. “Climbed up on its back and rode it across the city, to head off Thunderhead.”

“Hootchie mama,” Vinyl said, eyebrows climbing up over her goggles. “Not what I was expecting.”

“Yer glad you missed it, big bro,” Applejack said.

“Yes Ah am,” he said. “Most of this stuff is too rich fer my blood, or it’s supposed to be.”

“These last few days have been quite tame, though,” Rarity said. “We just need to not get involved in anything untoward, and we’ll be golden.”

“Yeah, just in time for Snowdrift, too,” Rainbow said.

“Speakin’ of untoward, how are you takin’ Lacey bein’ here?” Applejack asked.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Rarity said. She looked into the distance, holding a soup spoon in her magic.

“It’s totally okay if you don’t wanna tell me, but what happened?” Vinyl asked.

The spoon bent in the air. “We were manipulated and betrayed, me particularly. I’ll leave it at that.”

Vinyl faced her, as if appraising her response. “Severely? It must have been, for the reaction you had yesterday.”

“As I said, I’ll leave it at that.”

“Vinyl, it was rotten what that mare did,” Applejack said.

“She deserves to rot in Tartarus,” Rarity said, setting the spoon down gently.

“Dang,” Vinyl said. “That bad?”

“I understand why we’re helping her here, I’m not going to let my feelings blind me to that, but, girls—and Big Mac—I must admit some rather… strong feelings.” She quieted. “Stronger than I’ve let on.”

“That’s only natural,” Applejack said, reaching over to rub her back.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal of it in front of Twilight last night.”

“Yeah, thanks for including us in that conversation, by the way,” Vinyl said.

“It just happened, it wasn’t planned,” Rainbow said, looking at her over the menu, which the waiter had neglected to take back.

“Ah kept you occupied away from them fer a reason,” Big Mac whispered in her ear. She only looked at him, perplexed, and he shrugged.

“How do you feel, Rarity?” Applejack asked. “Honestly, no sugarcoatin’.”

Rarity took a deep breath. “No sugarcoating, okay. Yes, well, quite frankly, I think Lacey Kisses needs to stay here and waste away. I think she deserves to see her money dwindle, and then her possessions, until she’s living under one of these broken aqueducts somewhere. After that, maybe lightning can strike her, I don’t know.”

Applejack nodded solemnly.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Vinyl asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rarity asked.

“Can you just let her talk?” Rainbow asked.

“I was done. I’ve… well, I have a lot of practice, saying it to myself.” A deep-set frown appeared on her face. “I hate this pony.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Applejack said.

“It’s how I feel. No sugarcoating.”

“Why not bring this up last night?” Big Mac asked. “Why did ya not want Twilight to know?”

Rarity’s frown deepened.

“Rarity? You okay?”

“Because it wouldn’t do any good. She’s the leader, and I could tell her mind was made up. Better to keep my mouth shut and get along than make a big fuss over something I can’t change.”

“Twilight’s not the leader,” Rainbow said. “None of us are. This is a team.”

“No, Ah think Ah know what you mean,” Applejack said. “There’s been kind of a, a sense, Ah s’pose, of authority ever since Ah came back. Ah know she’s been actin’ like she’s more in charge.”

“She’s not like that ordinarily?” Vinyl asked. “Sorry, I didn’t know the dynamic before.”

“No, yer fine.”

“Twilight’s less considerate of other ponies’ opinions,” Rarity said. “She’s less thoughtful, and quicker to spring into action than usual.”

“Bringin’ me back really did a number on her, huh?”

“There’s nothing like it, dear, truly. Talking about it like this, I do understand somewhat where Twilight’s coming from. She must have felt a little like Celestia when you opened your eyes again.”

“No reason why we should feel like we can’t speak our minds around her, though,” Vinyl said.

“I do it,” Rainbow said.

“I’ll bet if you told Twilight how you feel, she’d have no idea she’s making you feel that way.”

“You’re probably right,” Rarity said. “But I shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. The Element of Generosity shouldn’t have room in her heart for hate.”

Vinyl’s horn glowed again, rose. “I remember something Twilight told me in Applewood. You may be the Elements, but you’re not perfect, and you’re not out here with friendship as the primary goal. I’d say some hard feelings here and there are reasonable. To be expected, even.”

“Let’s not go validatin’ hatred,” Applejack said. “If that’s what it is. Ah don’t mean to belittle yer feelin’s, but you could just be sore ‘cause you saw her yesterday.”

“Sure,” Rarity said with a shrug.

Applejack scrutinized her for a minute, then shrugged herself.

The day passed slowly and without diversion; their sole task had been addressed that morning, and they had two days to wait before Gold Ribbon said an airship could be ready for Lacey. Twilight had written a check for thirty-five hundred bits, made payable to The Water Loop, and kept it in one of her books. Gold Ribbon, when questioned, had assured her that he had a place to cash it, but volunteered no further information.

By sundown, restlessness had overtaken the crew, and no amount of card games or reminiscing of home could dull it. By nine, Rainbow and Fluttershy had flown out over the barren, parched farmland, hoping to find Lacey and let her know of her impending departure; Big Mac and Vinyl went for a walk amongst the ruins. For a time, Applejack remained with Twilight and Rarity, but she reluctantly volunteered to watch the ship when it became clear that they, too, were aching to go elsewhere. The two unicorns decided to walk into the small village. They had seen its buildings all along the mountain’s slopes, but hadn’t ventured far that morning or afternoon, which had been spent going over plans for Lacey and for Snowdrift afterwards.

The road was swept but unpaved, guarded on both sides by spindly branch and twine rails. Dried flowers bobbed their heads in a chilly wind, and, above, the stout stone faces of buildings seemed to wink at them as heat lightning fluttered overhead. Another storm was coming, more work for Gold Ribbon and his Water Loop.

It was just beginning to sprinkle when Twilight and Rarity reached a stretch of level ground where waited a dark, gray building whose corners were overgrown with soft grass, as if the ground were in the early stages of subsuming the structure. Just past, lantern lights waved behind the smudged glass of a castle-like pub. Its roof was a sharp, shingled cone from which waved a blue and white pendant, the same colors represented on the round sign that creaked as the wind moved it under the shadows of mossy crenelations.

Twilight and Rarity were able to get seats at the bar beside a pair of denim-clad farmers who gave them a casual look and nothing more. Both unicorns had left their Elements back on the ship, not wanting to be so easily recognized.

For a while, neither said much. Twilight took small, grudging sips of her ale while Rarity stared into her martini, prepared, it seemed to her, by someone who had never done more than pour into a glass.

“Question,” Rarity finally said, giving up on her drink and ordering what Twilight had gotten.

“Go ahead,” Twilight said.

“Do you think of yourself as the leader of this group?”

Twilight paused. “Not really.”

“Maybe a little?”

“Maaaaaaybe. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“What is it?”

Rarity sipped her ale, hating it just as much as her martini, but determined to finish it. “I know it’s too late to do anything about it now, but I don’t think we should have had Gold Ribbon help Lacey.”

“I know you’re still angry with her, but, like I said last night—what?”

Rarity had slouched in her seat and took another difficult swig of her drink.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is why I didn’t bring it up last night. I knew it wouldn’t do any good.”

Twilight frowned.

“Can I talk now?”

“Sorry, yes, please. Go ahead.”

“I believe that Lacey is getting what she deserves, and sending her to Canterlot is rewarding her for living how she does. She’s a poisonous mare, and we’re allowing her free access to the big city. To me, that’s stupid.”

Twilight glanced at Rarity’s glass to see how much she had drank, a detail that Rarity didn’t miss. “I don’t think it’s our place to mete out judgment for past mistakes.”

“We’re doing it to Discord. We’re doing it to Gold Ribbon—if we didn’t care about his ‘past mistakes’, we wouldn’t be making him do anything to earn that check you wrote. We’d just give it to him and be on our way. Frankly, I think we should have just left him and washed our hooves of all this mess.”

“We can’t just do that, though.”

“That’s hypocrisy, then,” Rarity said, pushing back a hotter retort. “You say we shouldn’t pass judgment on those who wronged us, but you preach intervention wherever you see injustice.”

“I’m not saying we should intervene everywhere. Like this time, for instance, I just think we should give him the money so nothing bad happens.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “We’re just trying to get by, Rarity. Nothing more.”

“Getting by, but also helping that nag who stabbed me in the back.”

Twilight sighed.

“What is so bad about letting someone suffer for their own mistakes?”

“I think she’s—”

“You think she’s suffered enough. Well, I don’t.”

Twilight took another drink. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Who does it sound like?”

“I don’t know, but not you.”

Rarity threw a dark look at a table of ponies she could see pointing at them in the bar mirror.

“I’ve never known you to be mean like this. To wish pain on someone else.”

“Well, I’m not the Element of Kindness,” Rarity said sulkily.

Twilight thought and sipped. Rarity could see frustration building in her friend’s expression. “Would you do to her what she did to you?”

“It wouldn’t work.”

“Something equivalent, then?”

“Without hesitation.”

Twilight took another sip. “You would?”

“Happily.” Rarity looked at the ponies again, and one of them got up.

“I don’t think I believe that.”

“Ladies, my friends and I were wondering if you’d like to sit at our table. A couple of us are leaving, and we’d love the company.” He was broad-shouldered and short, a toothpick moving jauntily as he spoke. His tail curled back strangely, as if bent out of place.

Rarity and Twilight looked at each other and got up. The table was cluttered with drinks, coasters, and open notebooks, the ponies seated at it all talking boisterously amongst themselves. They seemed no threat; Twilight noticed that no one hastened to close the notebooks as they approached, and Rarity noticed that none of them paid their arrival much attention, until they sat down.

“You are—right? Twilight Sparkle and Rarity?” a teenage filly asked, eyes gleaming under a wide straw hat. “You’re my heroes, both of you, really!”

“We, eh, don’t want a lot of ponies knowing we’re here,” Rarity said.

“Neither do we,” the broad-shouldered pony said. “We’re—hey, Vintage! Over here.” He hopped up to wave another pony over, and Twilight scooted over to give her room, not recognizing her at first.

“Well, it sure is good to see you two again,” the brown earth pony said. Her freckled muzzle and marbled red and blue mane looked familiar to Rarity, but Twilight stared at her. “Last time you were here, you restored my vineyard and smashed some of my best barrels.” She hugged Twilight. “It really is good to see you again.”

“I’m sorry?” Rarity said.

“Vintage,” the pony said. “You stayed with me while you were recovering.”

“No, that I remember. I just didn’t have your name. Vintage, it’s great to see you again.” She gave Vintage a firm hoofshake. “I’m happy to know you’ve made it in this town.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Vintage said. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce my other friends.” She indicated the stallion who had brought them over. “This is Heart of Palm, and this is Copper Wire, Fruit Tree, Saturday Sun, and Moment’s Notice.”

The teenage filly, Saturday Sun, pumped Rarity’s hoof. “It’s great to see you two, really!”

“Are you old enough to drink?” Rarity asked, and the table laughed.

“So what happened?” Twilight asked. “When did Trottingham become… this?”

“Trottingham is dead,” Copper Wire said in a breezy voice, her sea-green mane hanging over her eyes and touching the rim of her glass. “You’re in The Mountain Zone now.”

“We couldn’t hold on without the aqueducts,” Heart of Palm said. “We tried to repair them, but it was impossible. We had to move up here, where we could still reach the old reservoirs.”

“And by the time we had this town established, the rains were starting to come down,” Saturday Sun said. “Then The Water Noose showed up.”

“The Water Noose?” Twilight asked. “Gold Ribbon’s company?”

“That’s what we call it,” Vintage said. “A lot of us aren’t particularly happy about the recent state of affairs.”

“What’s going on up there?” Twilight asked, looking out the window. From where she sat, she could see a dark bore hole in the mountain, its mouth lit weakly, but enough to show the straight lines and sharp angles of machines huddled around. Dark shapes moved among them, some holding lanterns, many not.

“Mining,” Fruit Tree said. He was a pastel pink unicorn with pale blue eyes and a shaved mane. In the bar’s light, it looked like he had no fur at all. “For more water.”

“They’re searching for more water? Why?” Rarity asked. “I thought you were all taken care of.”

“‘Taken care of’ is about right,” Heart of Palm said. “You know what the tax is for basic water delivery? Seventy-five percent.”

“What?” Twilight blurted. She had been watching the ponies on the mountain, trying to see more of their operation, but jerked her gaze back to the burly farmer. His toothpick had switched sides.

“Three quarters,” Saturday Sun said. “Rotten, huh?”

“Why is it so high?”

“He’s extorting them,” Rarity said. “Or embezzling, or something.” She paused as thunder crashed overhead. “Rainbow Dash was right, he is Mansel scum.”

“Who’s Mansel?” Vintage asked.

While Rarity explained, Twilight watched the village outside. Rain-lashed and dark, The Mountain Zone looked more like a ruin than the remnants of Trottingham. No ponies moved in her view, except those at the cavern’s mouth, and no signs gave away a population larger than what fit in their bar. She drank her ale without recoiling, finally accustomed to the bitter flavor. A pegasus flew over a distant rise in the ground and pelted over the buildings, heading for the mountain crew. A minute later, an earth pony raced up the road, the lantern chained to her neck swinging recklessly. She made for the bar.

The door flew open, and the new pony, breathless, half-shouted something that Twilight did not make out, but everyone else did. At the cue, nearly half the bar rose as one, tankards and glasses clunking onto tables and chairs scraping. Their table was among them, and Twilight saw the earth pony fade into the darkness between buildings as she rose herself.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Rarity asked as ponies began pushing out into the wet street. She and Twilight followed, confused and worried, shoved along by the mass movement of so many agitated bodies.

Lightning crackled above them, a long bolt that lit on a mountain farther north of town, and wet ponies scattered, some into houses and some down the same road the first pony had taken.

“You get out of here, Elements,” Saturday Sun said, pushing at Twilight and Rarity fearfully. “You can’t be seen here!” Then she joined the retreating mob, kicking up mud as she went down the road.

“What’s going on?” Rarity asked again, to no one. In the space of a minute, she and Twilight were the only ones outside the bar.

“Come on,” Twilight said, jogging to an empty triangle of grass beside a collapsed house. Using a chunk of fallen aqueduct to brace herself, she rose up to look over the rise at the dark, windswept valley below, the original site of Trottingham. She could still see their airship, and momentarily imagined Applejack trying to keep herself occupied in the cold and the rain.

“Those lights,” Rarity said, pointing at twin pin pricks of light sliding along below. “Someone’s coming. Is that what everyone’s so afraid of?”

“It’s just a car,” Twilight said.

Rarity was silent for a second. “Twilight, who’s the only pony in this city we know who has a car?”

“Whippoorwill. But what’s the problem with that?”

The car turned slowly onto a larger path and briefly vanished behind a patch of trees. When they spotted it again, it was past their ship, and heading their way.

“Let’s hide,” Rarity said. “I don’t know what’s going on up here, but I don’t want to be on the receiving end.”

“Right,” Twilight said, following her. With only a dim horn-light, they crept into the collapsed house and found a window that afforded them a good view of the street that Whippoorwill was using.

“Turn off that light,” someone whispered from behind, and they both jumped. The voice laughed nervously. “Sorry. Thought you saw me go in here. C’mon, if he sees you with us, it’ll be our end.”

Twilight snuffed her light and they crouched at a window, empty of glass. The rain was slanting away from them, but there was a biting draft from behind, through the broken door.

“What in the world is going on?” Rarity asked again, softly.

After what felt like twenty minutes of silent waiting, nervous breathing, and hammering rain, Whippoorwill’s headlights came up over the rise and cruised slowly past. In the dark, his car appeared even sharper and more sinister, its flat, black hood bearing down on their hiding place for only a second, and long enough to make Rarity hold her breath. Its windows were tinted and its windshield wipers were racing to keep up with the storm. Its white wheel rims were spattered with mud, and, as it moved up the path to climb the mountain, she saw that it had no license plate.

Only when he was fully out of sight did Rarity and Twilight relax. “So what’s he doing here?” Twilight asked. “And why are we afraid of him?”

“Heard you talkin’ about Gold Ribbon, familiar-like. I expect that’s why you don’t know; he’s Gold Ribbon’s attack dog,” the voice in the shadows said. “Those ponies up there? Trying to find a fresh source of groundwater, or a better way into the deep aquifers inside the mountain, so we don’t have to rely on The Water Loop.”

“He has a monopoly on your water, that’s what they said in the bar,” Rarity said.

“That’s right. You can’t make a living with three quarters of what you make going back to the bastard who owns your city, but we’re powerless. Pony can’t go without water, after all.”

“And he sends Whippoorwill to do… what?” Twilight asked.

“To shut down our operation. If we find our own water, he’ll sink, and he knows it. He has to keep us reliant.”

“Shut down, as in incarcerate the ponies up there?”

“No jails in The Mountain Zone, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Twilight, we can’t pay off this creep,” Rarity said.

“Pay off?” the voice asked.

“It’s complicated,” Twilight said. She could see Whippoorwill making his way up the mountain again, winding up the narrow road toward the mining operation. If the ponies hadn’t seen him earlier, Twilight thought, they certainly would now. He made no effort to conceal himself.

“How many other ‘attack dogs’ does Gold Ribbon have?” Rarity asked.

“Just the one, but it’s enough,” the voice said. “They say Whippoorwill’s the most powerful unicorn south of Canterlot. You don’t fight him and walk away from it.”

“He can’t be that powerful,” Twilight said.

“I can’t speak for what others’ve said, but I once saw him throw one of those big yellow diggers, what’cha call ‘em, right off a cliff.” As if ashamed of his own fear, the voice added, quieter, “plus, none of us know how to move the water like Gold Ribbon, and we do need it.”

Twilight stood up, and Rarity put a hoof on the windowsill. She thought she knew what Twilight was thinking, and wanted to be ready to help.

The car stopped, but the lights stayed on. Lightning flashed, but they were too far to see any details. Before Twilight could form a plan, there was a bright yellow plume of flame, catching the underside of a tree for a second before the rain put it out. Tiny, thin voices popped and chattered.

“He’s gonna offer ‘em a deal,” the voice said. “Leave town, or die. Same result either way, if you ask me.”

“He’s going to kill them, on the spot?” Rarity asked, appalled.

“If’n they don’t accept his deal, yeah. Like I said, no jails in The Mountain Zone. Lots of room for graves, though.”

“Twilight, we can’t let him do this.”

Another flash of fire burst up at the cavern’s mouth, and his car blended into the rock and shadow.

“That’s their machines he’s burning,” the voice said. “He’s giving ‘em a warning.”

“Can you teleport that far?” Rarity asked.

“Not safely,” Twilight said.

“You don’t have to get involved on our account,” the voice said.

“We can’t let you stay like this,” Twilight said back into the darkness. Lightning flashed and she looked up again, thinking it was another explosion.

Twilight’s blood turned to ice as a sudden flurry of lights flashed at the cavern’s entrance. A confetti spray of colorful magic flew through the air and mingled with the lightning and rain, but the largest light by far was a mild, sand-colored shield that sparked and flickered as the attacking magic chipped at it. Another tail of flame sprouted and withered, and then, without warning, the shield flew apart. Rarity gasped beside Twilight, who could only watch in mute astonishment as small figures filled the air with the larger forms of their vehicles. A digger tumbled and paused, its arm hooked on a tree, before slowly rejoining the small avalanche of machinery.

“Guess they took the quick way out,” the voice said. “Hope I’d have the courage to do the same.”

“He’s going to just get away with that?” Twilight demanded. “He… that son of a nag.” She scoffed and looked around, trying not to see too much of the lights coming up along the mountainside.

“But he’s just one, and there’s hundreds of you,” Rarity said.

The voice only sighed.

“Well, someone has to do something,” Twilight muttered angrily, and Rarity knew they were going to go back into the weather. She followed Twilight meekly, her earlier anger forgotten, as they went down the road until they could see the advance of Whippoorwill’s headlights.

“What’s the plan?” Rarity asked.

“We’re going to hide behind that garden gate, and when he comes by, I’ll grab his car and shake him out of it.”

“And what then?” They crouched behind the cool iron gate.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I can’t take another life.” She looked Rarity in the eyes. “And I don’t want you to either.”

“I don’t think I could.”

They were silent, and the headlights dipped and emerged from a copse of trees, closer and moving fast.

“I could try to teleport him out into the country somewhere, far from here. Or we can bind him and bring him… no, that’d be too far.”

“We could just write the princesses, and leave it at that,” Rarity said.

“I’m not waiting for them to find time for this.”

“What about Gold Ribbon? What are we going to do with his money?”

Twilight didn’t respond, only watched the car draw nearer. She could make out its shape among the shadows, could hear its tires laboring in the mud. Her breathing was hard and her skin tingled, her horn lit preemptively.

“He doesn’t even have that shield around his car,” Rarity said. “Arrogant cad.”

“Just as he’s passing, I’m going to do it.”

They waited and watched, feeling much the same as they had inside the collapsed house, as he closed the distance.

Twilight didn’t say anything when she cast her spell. She simply stood up and the black car followed her example, slamming to a halt and turning lazily in the air until its front end hit the ground with a shockingly loud clap.

Before either pony could react, the sandy shield formed, in one instant a little bead of sunshine behind the tinted glass, in the next a concussive wall of magic that slammed both of them back into the house and rattled the gate. The car hit the ground with a shuddering sound, and the engine wheezed as Twilight got to her hooves, blinking rapidly to clear the harsh afterimage.

The car trundled down the path and managed to pick up speed just as it reached the top of the rise. Without thinking, Twilight took off after it, her horn alight and a smaller shield forming around her. Rarity raced to follow her, though the wind had been knocked out of her.

The car bumped and yawed down the path, and Twilight could see that one wheel had been knocked out of alignment. Still, she could not run as fast as Whippoorwill could drive, and she didn’t want to lift the car again. It had taxed her magic more than she had expected, though, she thought as she ran, she shouldn’t be surprised; she hadn’t practiced in a while.

“Twilight, wait!” Rarity cried behind, but Twilight didn’t look back. Her heart was racing and her mind was aflame with anger. The pony before her had destroyed countless days of planning and work, and the lives behind them, as casually as someone kicking over a sandcastle, and all he wanted to do after that was go home in his fancy car.

Making a snap decision, Twilight lit her horn and, taking only the shortest time to focus on her destination, teleported to a clear spot by the road. She slipped on the mud as she came out of the spell, but was still able to throw up a wall of magic to hold the car in place, remembering too to add strength to her own shield.

When Whippoorwill’s spell exploded outwards again, Twilight’s shield faded momentarily, but did not buckle, and she could feel the power inside her horn burning slowly. It was a pleasurable feeling, a confident feeling, and she used it to rip one door open, then completely off. Glass scattered out to dust the soaked grass.

A quick duo of magical pulses glanced off her shield, and she looked in time to see Whippoorwill dodging out the car’s other side. He dashed into the road, and, with a screech of twisted metal and broken plastic, wrenched the other door off and held it aloft.

His body was scarcely visible in the darkness, but his contrasting mane was, as was the magic that slithered across his horn. Twilight could tell by its opacity the power that he had, and saw, with a moment of fear, that the voice in the room had not exaggerated as much as she had hoped.

He slowly put down his pulse crystal, but did not lower the car door. Twilight raised hers to match, two fencers at the ready on opposite sides of the road.

“Ah didn’t peg ya as the type, Miss Sparkle,” Whippoorwill said. He was dressed more formally than the day before, his black suit jacket protected from the rain by a thin skin of magic. In the whipping wind, the only loose articles on his body were the same eye-shaped bola tie and the cold, white corner of his pocket square.

“What type?”

“The type to fra-ter-nize with terrorists. The type to say one thing an’ then do exactly another.”

“Terrorists? Those farmers you threw off the mountain, you mean?”

“Eco terrorists, Miss Sparkle.” He took on a cordial tone, so smooth and sincere that Twilight almost lowered her improvised weapon. “Ah was plannin’ on sittin’ ya down an’ explainin’ everythin’, but Ah can see yer curiosity got the better of ya. Ah’m sorry we have to reach this topic on such violent terms, but you left me little choice.” He chuckled. “That was my favorite car, by the way; Ah’ll be wantin’ some restitution for it. We can talk about that later, though.”

“You’re squeezing them out of their way of life with your big business,” Twilight said. “They just want to be left alone, and not have their water held hostage.”

Whippoorwill took half a step back and tilted his head. “Well golly, Ah hope this whole affair ain’t the result of some sort of misunderstandin’,” he said. “It ain’t my business that’s doin’ the squeezin’.”

“No, you’re just the one helping Gold Ribbon to keep it that way, that’s all.”

He shrugged. “Stallion’s gotta make a livin’ somehow. These are rough times, as you, of all ponies, well know.”

She looked up at his car door, still held tight, ready to swing down on her or sweep across the road. She had hoped to keep him talking and tire him out, but his magic hadn’t wavered one iota.

“Let’s put down our weapons,” Twilight suggested. He may match her in stamina, but he may not in reflexes.

“If’n you please,” he said, taking the pulse crystal back out. “You first.”

“You won’t shoot me. I’m the Element of Magic.”

“Now, Miss Sparkle, Ah’m not sure Ah follow that logic. Seems to me Discord an’ his friends are all quite content to hurt you. Ah don’t see that Ah shouldn’t be, acceptin’ it’s gonna one of us who goes underground tonight. Given the choice, Ah’d prefer it be you.”

“I’d like to see you try that.”

He brought the pulse crystal up and pointed it at her, but didn’t fire. The car door streamed with rain, and lightning flashed in its window.

She brought her door higher in response.

“If you intend to do somethin’, Ah suggest you do it soon,” he said.

Twilight was afraid to take her eyes off him. She had foolishly attacked someone more willing to do her harm than she was to him, and had gotten herself into a standoff. She could break his shield, but he would be far from harmless; moreover, he had seen her with the other ponies, and would tell Gold Ribbon at his next chance. She would be lucky to escape Trottingham without harm to herself or her friends, she knew, all because of a momentary impulse.

“Unless…” she thought, an idea rising out of her discouragement. She smiled to herself, and tried to keep her voice from showing the sudden, shaking sense of relief at finding her solution. “You better back off, Whippoorwill. Last chance.”

Whippoorwill turned swiftly and ducked into an oncoming gust of wind, his magic flashing out and engulfing the car. In an instant, Twilight’s eyes were seared as the black metal turned orange and then white, and a deafening thunderclap popped inside her ears. Fire poured upwards with a spiraling column of smoke as the car bucked and separated, its underside flying in one direction and shards of its chassis exploding outwards. Her shield held, and kept her from being thrown back, but she hadn’t expected the noise or the light.

Something heavy smashed off her shield and bounced into the grass beside the road as she took off running for shelter. She could feel smaller pieces of debris hitting her shield, but could see only a brilliant white field imposed on the weak lining of the car, a rosy tinge surrounding all. She rubbed her eyes to no avail.

Resting against a tree to catch her breath, she tried to see where Whippoorwill had gone, knowing it impossible. She would simply have to wait for her vision to come back and trust in her shield to prevent any further attacks. She cursed herself; there was a spell to temporarily give herself artificial senses, but she had never bothered to commit it to memory.

Far off, she heard shrill screaming. She wanted to yell back and tell Rarity to keep her distance, but knew it would do no good.

Lightning flashed, and she was able to see it, as well as hear its thunder. Her head lolled back and forth for a second as she tried to parse the night sky. She could see a little better, and got back on the road, going as close to the wreck as she dared. The rain had put out the worst of the flames, but she could still smell fresh smoke and feel a powerful wave of heat coming from its middle.

“Where’d you go, you scum?” she whispered, pushing herself a little closer to the car to shield herself from any pulse crystal shots. Uncertainly, she picked up her car door again, spun far off into the mud, but unharmed.

She snapped her head up at the sound of magic. Back up the road, she was able to see the last second of Whippoorwill’s sandy shield bursting outwards and sparking against Rarity’s smaller one.

Twilight made no effort to sneak. She galloped through the mud and the rain, almost slipping several times, straight at the ducking and weaving form of Whippoorwill’s mane, the only part of him that was clearly visible. With just a moment spared to make sure his shield was still up, she put more of her magic on the car door and swung it down fast enough to make a thunderous, shredding noise; hard enough to shatter it entirely against his magic.

Whippoorwill stumbled as his shield went out, and Twilight, ready, hit him with a bolt of raw telekinesis, only powerful enough to knock him off his hooves.

“Stay back!” she shouted, preparing her last spell. She hadn’t the time to hope that Rarity had heard or heeded the warning; even as the magic leapt off the tip of her horn, Whippoorwill was rising and trying to aim his pulse crystal.

He stopped, stunned, as the magic hit him in the face. The faded remnant of his shield vanished, and his pulse crystal drooped at his side. He was only just able to catch himself with the upraised hoof.

“We have to go, now,” she said, not turning to him but running past Rarity, panting where she stood.

“What did you do?”

“Now!”

The two mares galloped back up the road to the dark cluster of buildings, and Rarity put a thinner shield around them to keep the rain out of their eyes. When they reached the bar, its lights still on but most of its patrons gone, the few that remained at the window to see the ruckus, they were able to stop.

“I hit him with a memory spell,” Twilight said between long, deep breaths. “Wiped his memory of this whole day. Now he won’t be able to tell Gold Ribbon he saw us up here.”

Rarity craned her neck to look down the road. From where they stood, a scant forty feet away, there was no evidence that there had been a unicorn fight. The car fire had been smothered, and the smoke blended into the night.

“Thanks for helping me. I didn’t see what you did, but it kept him distracted.”

“I just rushed him,” Rarity said, wiping her mane out of her eyes. “I tried to use one of those force spells you showed me. At least, I think it was you.”

They began walking again, Twilight leading them past the bar to a smaller road behind it, which, after a moment of study, they saw would take them close to the ship. They would need to cut through some field to reach the lot where they were parked.

“Might have been Celestia, I don’t remember,” Rarity added.

“We can’t let him see us up here again,” Twilight said. “We can’t give him any reason to think we were involved.”

“How, er, thorough were you?”

“Not as thorough as I could have been. I don’t know how much Gold Ribbon knows about memory restoration, but I don’t want him to think someone with much skill cast this spell.” She smiled at Rarity. “Hopefully, they just chalk it up to a lucky shot by one of those farmers he killed.”

“But won’t we be in huge trouble if they recover his memory?”

“Hopefully, we’ll be gone by then.” Twilight stopped, thinking she heard hoofsteps nearby. When she was sure they were still alone, she kept going. “If not, I don’t know. At least next time we’ll know what to expect.”

When they got back, Applejack was still the only one there. She watched them board the ship with a small smirk. “Can you two ever go out an’ not get in trouble? What the hay happened up there?”

“You saw all that?” Twilight asked.

“It took me ‘bout two seconds to realize it wasn’t lightnin’. Ah take it yer okay? Come on, let’s hear this story.”

Sunrise was Whippoorwill’s favorite time of the day. A new day, a new sun, a new light parting his curtains and giving him a new spotlight before his mirror. He had made it back home around one a.m., having to walk when he discovered that his car had been destroyed; he guessed by his own magic, but couldn’t be sure.

He lived in a shed much like the other employees of The Water Loop, although his was only a few doors away from Gold Ribbon’s office, and filled with expensive trinkets. Each night, if he could spare the time, he enjoyed sitting on his chaise lounge with a tumbler of cognac and a thin, pale cigar, which he could slowly disintegrate into a crystal ashtray etched with his cutie mark, a florid bass clef. If he needed to dull a headache or any other injury received on the job, he had five bottles of ibuprofen, something the town had long run out of when it stopped importing. Better yet, he could walk over to Gold Ribbon’s house, on the other side of his office, whenever he wanted, and indulge in all manner of decadent dishes that the fat earth pony prepared for himself. He ate well, which meant that, often, so did Whippoorwill.

But, before anything, he had to look good. In the golden tumble of morning sunshine, he put the confusion of the night before out of his mind and focused on his wardrobe. First step: the shirt. He leafed through his closet and, after several minutes of indecision, selected a simple aquamarine button-down among more somber, businesslike fare; it fit a little snugly around the withers to accentuate his more triangular shape. Over that, a two-button suit jacket, iridescent white with navy trim, again helping his shape with its rigid, pointed shoulders. He was the type of pony to button both buttons.

He combed his mane until pink and orange were blended into the shining, helmet-like shape he preferred, then looked through his pants, paying them less attention than the shirt and jacket. Gold Ribbon liked to keep his cutie mark covered with wide cloaks and drapes, but Whippoorwill had never been able to make the look work for himself, something for which he envied his boss. He eventually settled on a pair of simple, black slacks, ironed the day before using one of the few private generators left in town. Lastly, he tucked a royal blue pocket square into his front pocket and donned his bola tie, the eye he had purchased years ago in Manehattan. It had been speckled with mud, which took him an hour the night before to clean to his satisfaction.

He allowed himself only a couple minutes of admiration before heading out the door, thinking once more of what may have happened to him. The fact that his mind was a blank was disturbing, but he tried to look on the bright side: he was alive.

In the main branch of The Water Loop, he bypassed his coworkers without even looking at them and made for Gold Ribbon’s office. There, he shared the troubling fact of his altered memory, and there he was patiently informed of what he had been assigned to do the night before.

“So Ah go up to the mountain to pay those water miners a fine ‘howdy doo,’ get in a scrape, an’ lose my memory along with my car. But Ah still shut down their operation, yer sayin’.”

“That is what I’m saying.” Gold Ribbon looked at Whippoorwill as if expecting a response.

“It’s… well, obviously, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Do any of these malcontents of yours have access to this kind of magic?” Gold Ribbon’s attention was divided between Whippoorwill and a folder full of charts and schedules, through which he sorted carefully as he spoke, rarely looking up.

“Ah s’pose one of ‘em must,” Whippoorwill said. “Couldn’t speculate who.”

“I advise you speculate harder, then. Find the pony who erased your memory and deal with them. Meanwhile, I’ll have someone contact you so we can begin rebuilding last night. It could be a lucky shot from someone who didn’t want to maim, but it could also be covering up something important.”

“Of course, sir.”

Gold Ribbon sighed and closed his folder. “I’m not happy that you allowed this to happen.”

Whippoorwill bowed his head after a moment of defiant indignation. He couldn’t defend himself; he had nowhere to start. Besides, perhaps it was entirely his fault, and he had simply forgotten the fact.

“The Elements of Harmony have magic enough to erase your memory.”

“Ah haven’t given ‘em any reason to do that to me. They know nothin’.”

“You know this?”

He paused, knowing what he was about to say would not please his boss. “Ah’m supposin’ it, sir.”

“I don’t pay you to simply suppose. We’ve been over this.” He looked at Whippoorwill as one would look at a fresh problem. “Because you failed to complete your assignment to my satisfaction, I have no choice but to deduct from your paycheck. You understand that, do you not?”

Whippoorwill only stared at him. He could feel his face reddening, but he was too stunned to reply. He only nodded, hoping to put as much hate into his eyes as he could.

“Even better, now I need you to take the day to investigate last night. Come back here at four. I’ll have someone to work on your memory by then.”

“Yes sir.”

Gold Ribbon gestured to the door, and Whippoorwill left, quietly seething. Outside the workplace, Gold Ribbon was a fine friend, but inside, he was unmerciful and easily displeased. Whippoorwill wondered, as he had many times before, whether Gold Ribbon was a boss first, or a friend. In his heart, he supposed he knew.

In a special room to which only he and Gold Ribbon had the key, he armed himself with a large, white pulse crystal, a cannon in comparison to the crystal he had found on himself the night before.

It was a pleasant day for a stroll, Whippoorwill thought without conviction, as he followed the damp path up to The Mountain Zone’s tiny settlement. His car still sat where he had left it, too disoriented and frightened the night before to attempt any sort of recovery. He paced around it impersonally, his nose burning from the persistent gasoline smell, his eyes slowly taking in details and peeling away the layers of mystery concerning its destruction.

The rain had washed away any tire tracks, but it was reasonable to assume that he had encountered his enemy on the return trip. He knew he had done what he was ordered to do up on the mountain.

The car doors, he noticed next, were not scorched as the rest of the machine was. Someone, possibly himself, had torn them away. If it was he, he thought, then it had been an ambush; he wouldn’t deface his own vehicle if he had time to think. The doors lay on opposite sides of the road, and, after a moment more of thought, he decided it was most likely he had held one and his attacker the other. It made sense; someone powerful enough to wipe his memory would also be powerful enough to yank his door off.

“So I run into someone down here who wants a piece of me, and we fight. She doesn’t kill me, though she probably had the power to. Maybe not, maybe she had help. How could they get through my shield? Was I distracted? Doubt it, but maybe.” He scratched a circle in the dried mud, frustrated. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that he had been distracted.

His mood was black when he finally reached the abandoned mining operation. He couldn’t shake the thought that he had been distracted or otherwise compromised, that he had been too proud of himself or too excited to be as careful as he should have. He felt stupid and angry, but he let nothing show on his face, even though he was alone on the windswept mountainside. Working for The Water Loop had taught him to conceal his emotions well.

Down amongst the trees and rocks, he could see the diggers he had tossed off. A group of ponies moved quietly below, finding the injured and the dead. The sight of it brought neither pride nor disgust to Whippoorwill.

“I come up here, ruin their operation, and apparently do fine. They only ambush me below, when I’m almost back home. Maybe someone who saw but wasn’t involved.” He thought, but no one came to mind. In The Mountain Zone, he was not often challenged, and never before had he been actually harmed. The town was populated exclusively of farmers and small laborers, many uneducated beyond their trades. For as long as he had worked under Gold Ribbon, he had been the most magically proficient pony, and most ponies quickly came to know what that meant.

Going back down, he wondered about the Elements of Harmony, whether they might have had cause to attack him after all. If they had seen him on the mountain, it was likely that at least one would come to The Mountain Zone’s aid.

By the time he had reached his car again, he was certain that one of the Elements had found him out. His identity was known—he never had reason to hide it, before—and it would be easy for someone to learn it, simply by visiting The Mountain Zone and speaking with one or two ponies there. If they had been in the area, and seen the flashy, intimidating display it was clear he had made, then they could have rushed him as he drove back into the valley.

Head buzzing with suspicion and worry as he returned to the office, the day gone too quickly, too much time spent walking and waiting for unanswerable questions to resolve themselves, Whippoorwill snapped at the receptionist who told him there was someone waiting in his office. With a mumbled apology, he hurried past.

As soon as the door was closed, he set his pulse crystal down on the desk between himself and the memory therapist. She eyed it with an unimpressed smile.

“Yer the pony?” he asked.

“Mr. Gold Ribbon appointed me to assist you with regaining your memory, Mr. Whippoorwill.” She looked into his eyes as she spoke, hers large and expressive, her lashes long and lustrous. Ridiculous, he thought, that they reminded him of his car.

“Ah’m afraid ya have me at a disadvantage, Miss…”

“Second Look. You can call me Look; most ponies do.”

Whippoorwill shook her hoof. She was a salmon-colored unicorn with the typical, farmland stoutness in her shoulders and her barrel. She wore thick glasses that made her large eyes even larger, almost grotesquely so, a fact not helped by her skull-short brown mane. He had seen her once or twice over the course of his work, but they had never met, though he had always thought her pretty in a homely way.

“Miss Look,” he said. “Pardon my askin’, but yer a true memory therapist? Here, in this wasteland?”

“I’m a cop, actually. Former cop.”

He stiffened in his seat as she fixed him with an empty, searching gaze.

“No fear, I mean you no harm. I work for The Loop just the same as you.”

“Well, that’s good,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“Shall we?”

“Oh, you mean right here, right now?”

“In my office, Mr. Whippoorwill.” She smiled unconvincingly. “You can leave the crystal behind.”

He rose and levitated it into its holster at his side. “Ah’ll put it back in its locker.”

She held the door for him and followed quietly behind while he put his crystal back, setting it on a rack beside five others, and then she took the lead out of the building and across the road to a fallow field.

“How far do we have to go to get to yer office?” he asked.

“A mile, give or take. I’m told you lost your car last night?”

“Yer told correct.” Whippoorwill saw her ear twitch as he spoke, and he thought he could see the minuscule change in her profile that would indicate a smile. From behind, it was hard to tell, but he decided he knew what he saw. He fixed her with a bitter glare as she led him deeper into the abandoned countryside, certain that she was judging him. Back in his office, from the first look, he had thought it a possibility.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Shouldn’t we wait ‘til we get to yer place?”

“It makes no difference for now.” She paused. “Unless you think it would.”

“Ah—”

“If you’d be more comfortable talking about it in an office setting, we can wait. I just figured I’d start now.”

“She wants to get this over with as fast as possible,” he thought. “Is it me? Did I make a bad impression?”

“Well? Which will it be?”

“Let’s wait,” he said. He wanted to trot ahead and walk alongside her, to ask her more about herself, but didn’t. He was too worried that she disliked him, and didn’t want to spoil the cold, but civil, way she was treating him.

They walked in silence for a while as more clouds sailed in from the north. They were in the midst of a long chain of rain clouds, which, according to Gold Ribbon’s schedule, would soon end and leave them with a month of very little. Ponies were scrambling to save as much water as they could to prepare for the drought.

“I’ve seen you around before,” Second Look said. “How did you come to work for The Loop? You don’t dress like someone from Trottingham, and you’re no farmer.”

“Ah come from the corner of Equestria, Snowdrift. Well, Ah was born there, anyway.”

“And then?”

“Moved up to Appleloosa when Ah was seven, me an’ a whole troupe of folks. There’s always some group or another goin’ between cities. Ponies in Snowdrift complain it’s too cold, ponies in Appleloosa complain it’s too dull. Ah can tell ya, they’re both right.”

“I’ve not been to either.”

“Yep, Ah expect not,” Whippoorwill said. “What ‘bout you? Native?”

“Roan, actually. I moved up here ten years ago. The police force in Roan wasn’t a good fit.”

“Ah see, Ah see.” He looked at her again, and realized that she hadn’t looked back at him once. His follow-up question died as he imagined with renewed bitterness that she had already come to dislike him.

“Shouldn’t be surprised,” he thought. “Everyone hates an attack dog.” For he knew that that was how ponies knew him.

Second Look’s office hove into view, a single-room shed of corrugated metal and empty windows that most likely doubled as her living quarters. A scrawny cat fled at their approach.

“It’s not much, but here we are,” she said, again holding the door for him.

“You said you were a former cop. What do you do now?” There was only one place for him to sit, and he took it.

“I get to file employee complaints and give pep talks to unhappy workers.” She sat on a straw mat and, with a tiny spell, lit a stick of incense.

“Livin’ the dream,” he said, and she smiled thinly.

“Let’s get started.”

“Course. How does this work? Yer not gonna invade my thoughts, are ya?”

“Hopefully not, but I may have to if we can’t rebuild your memory with standard techniques.” She looked him in the eyes again, and he felt suddenly guilty for the frown he was wearing for her. “If it comes to that, anything I find will be one hundred percent confidential.”

“Hope so.” His voice was low, the voice he used on ponies he wished to intimidate. Second Look glanced away with a blink and a pause before she began.

“What’s the last thing you remember before losing your memory?”

Second Look had plywood boards that she put up to keep the rain out of her shed. It was dark when the rain finally began to fall, and Whippoorwill was getting ready to leave.

“I want you to try not to think too much about the night in question,” she said. “You’ll only worry yourself, and anxiety makes it harder for us to rebuild your memory. It clouds thought.”

“Of course, makes sense,” Whippoorwill said. He felt defeated as he said it.

“I’ll come by and check in tomorrow afternoon, but I want to wait a little until our next session. Too much too soon is detrimental.”

“That’s fine. Ah could use the time to… relax, Ah s’pose.”

She gave him one of her anemic smiles. “You’ll be okay in the rain?”

“Ah’ve got the best shield out here. Ah won’t even be damp when Ah get back home.”

“Good. Have a nice night, Mr. Whippoorwill.”

He stepped into the cold rain, his sandy shield gleaming above his head as the water covered it. “You too, Miss Look.” The door closed before he was off the doorstep.

All seven ponies sat in a circle on the airship deck, dry under Rarity’s shield and warm from Rainbow’s radiating magic, and played cards. Applejack had managed a pie from various berries Vinyl and Big Mac had picked earlier that day, and a single slice of it sat in its tin at the shield’s edge.

“So he has no idea what happened last night,” Vinyl said, voice raised against the rain. Between her hoof and the deck, she waggled a chip.

“I thought I saw him poking around earlier today,” Rainbow said. “I thought I saw that ugly mane on the path.”

“We have to assume he told his boss what happened,” Twilight said. “Which means he probably knows some things, like that he blew up that mining operation. That wasn’t random, that was planned; Gold Ribbon can just tell him he was assigned to it. I raise.”

“Ah fold,” Big Mac said.

“But he can’t pin anything on us, right?” Vinyl asked.

“I doubt it very much,” Twilight said.

“But what do we do?” Rainbow asked. “We’re safe from this Whippoorwill guy, but the other yahoos out here aren’t. As soon as we leave, they’re toast.”

“An’ we can’t just rely on Gold Ribbon needin’ ‘em fer the money,” Applejack said, pushing her chips into the middle. “Last night proves that. Whippoorwill seems free to blast to his heart’s content.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Twilight said. “Unfortunately, I don’t really have any ideas.”

“Well, they need him, like it or not,” Rarity said.

“They need water,” Vinyl said. “Maybe instead of directly getting back at Gold Ribbon, we find some way to help them find more water.”

“I mean, there’s only so much water to be had out here,” Rainbow said, folding as well.

“We also have to do it after we see Lacey off,” Twilight said. “I know, Rarity, I know. She said she’d be ready?”

“She doesn’t have anything to pack,” Rainbow said. “So yeah, she’ll be ready. She’s ready now.”

“Could we get her to help?” Vinyl asked. “Or do something on her own?”

“She won’t care, as long as she’s safe,” Rarity said, putting her chips in. “And if you think I believe that raise, dear, you’re strongly mistaken.”

Twilight rolled her eyes.

“Wait, hang on,” Applejack said. “There is water close by.”

“Where?” Rarity asked.

“We passed a whole lake of it just before gettin’ to town, behind that monster dam. It’s just sittin’ there, waitin’ fer ponies to scoop it up.”

“Holy crap, that’s right,” Rainbow said. “Wait, but that’s way out there. It’s close by airship, but I sure don’t think they have any airships hiding in those dingy little shacks.”

“I’ve seen some tiny airships,” Vinyl said, folding.

“Well, we can’t give them a ride, if that’s where this is going,” Twilight said. “How about this? It’s easy. Well, not easy for them, exactly. I’ll just throw up a semi-permanent beckoning enchantment above the dam. We can swing out and pass it a second time on the way to Snowdrift, and that’ll be that. It’ll guide them.”

“They’ll have to walk all that way,” Big Mac said.

“We can’t do everything,” Rarity said, taking the pot with a sneer at Twilight, who tucked her pair of threes back into the deck. “Besides, they seemed competent enough, just until that Whippoorwill showed up.”

“We destroyed his car,” Twilight said, “So he won’t be able to chase them down as easily.”

“From what you said, kinda sounds like he doesn’t need it,” Vinyl said.

“One pony can’t keep everyone inside a town who wants out,” Rainbow said.

“He can if he scares the pants off everyone he looks at,” Rarity said. “As it happens, if last night is any indication, this stallion does.”

“That much of a reputation?” Vinyl asked.

“Five-card draw,” Twilight said. “Deuces wild.” She paused. “And yes.”

“Ah dunno, one pony scarin’ a whole town? Seems like too much to me,” Applejack said.

“Wouldn’t hurt to set up a diversion, just in case,” Vinyl said.

“They’re not all going to leave at once,” Twilight said. “They’ll be trickling out over the course of a month, probably.” She dealt. “We’ll do what we can, but we have to trust them to take care of themselves too.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Twilight looked at her for a moment. “Well, what would you suggest?”

Vinyl’s horn glowed softly as she raised her goggles. Even in the nighttime, she seldom revealed her eyes. “I don’t have anything, I’m just voicing my opinion.”

“Ah, I see. Noted on above.”

“All right, all right,” Applejack said. “Twi, gimme four.”

“That bad?” Rainbow asked.

“None of yer beeswax, RD.”

“I just need one card.”

“Me too,” Vinyl said.

Fleur dis Lee was known in the Datura as a skilled magician in the Celestial schools of magic, which was chiefly concerned with different forces and their applications. She could bore a hole through ten feet of rock, could bring a pot of water to a boil in a matter of seconds, and—with more effort—conjure a whirlwind of enough size to rearrange a house. Dispelling and enchanting objects or locations, and otherwise dealing with the less physical aspects of magic, however, had never been her strength, or her preference. To teach it to Colgate, she first had to learn it herself, for which she spent an entire night with Ink Pearl, her team’s defensive mage, the pony originally tasked to assist in Colgate’s destruction; it was for that reason that Fleur didn’t simply put the two together, and leave herself out of the educational process.

Fleur and Colgate practiced in the living room, the table and couch pushed against the walls to give them more room. The TV was on, but muted. It simply being on, Fleur had quickly surmised, was often enough to relax Colgate. Her cat watched them practice from the kitchen, offering an occasional, curious meow.

“How am I supposed to ‘feel the shape’ of these enchantments if you keep changing them?” Colgate asked irritably. “You’re not giving me a reference point.”

“They’re all similar,” Fleur said. “You’re not looking closely enough.”

“Then I’m missing something bigger, ‘cause these don’t seem similar at all.” She paused and looked past Fleur, who braced herself for a lie or an excuse. “Can we do this outside?”

Fleur raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather the neighbors not see us doing this.”

“If they’re scrutinizing us, they’ll see the magic lights through the curtains anyway.”

“Us being out on the front lawn is more noticeable than lights through the curtains, Colgate. Here, try this one.” She dispelled the enchantment on the pillow and replaced it with something else simple.

Colgate frowned at the pillow and shifted her weight, eyes darting around. Her horn glowed for a time as she glared at her target. “Kinda spikey.”

“You can explain it better than that, I hope?”

Colgate shot a dark look at Fleur, but didn’t lose her concentration. “Yeah, hey, sure, ma’am. I’d say there’s points of magical intensity all over it, but they’re small. Mostly, it’s smooth.”

“Good. And how do you deal with something like that?”

Colgate’s horn glowed as the magic inside the pillow faded. Fleur could feel her enchantment peeling away like shell from a hard-boiled egg, finally leaving the pillow as it had been.

“Nice. See? Confidence is key, Colgate.”

Colgate eyed her, and Fleur knew she had said something wrong. The unicorn’s suspicion was easily aroused, and Fleur hadn’t yet figured out all the triggers. She hoped surviving the rogue enchantment would help.

“Ready for another?” One thing she did know: Colgate hated to be interrogated about her feelings. It was best to let the moment pass.

“I need to go outside,” Colgate said, not waiting for Fleur. She stepped into the front yard and began a small circuit around the lawn.

Fleur watched and distractedly stroked the cat. “What in Tartarus is eating at you?” she asked the window. Despite their differences, despite what Colgate had done to earn her mistrust and the enmity of many others, Fleur liked her. She had only seen the merest glimpses over the past several days, but Colgate, it seemed, contained an articulate and interesting personality beneath the layers of meanness and deceitfulness. Fleur had worked in the Datura long enough and seen too many damaged ponies for any one disorder to bother her overmuch, and she had enough experience to spot the good amidst the bad in anyone. Most of Colgate’s act, Fleur thought, was defensive.

She said nothing when Colgate came back in. She wasn’t sure what the right response might be, if there even was one, and didn’t want to try her luck again. She just stood by the pillow and pretended to take interest in the TV.

“Hang on, turn the volume up,” Colgate said. “This looks interesting.”

“…are advised to report any suspicious activity to the police at the number below. At this time, there have been eleven reports of gang violence on local businesses in the Lower Canterlot area, all within six square miles of one another, but police say they believe the violence may not stay in the same place for long.”

Fleur turned the TV back down. “Are you interested in gangs, Colgate?”

“I thought I saw somewhere familiar,” Colgate said.

“Are you ready for more?”

Colgate sighed. “Sure, go for it. Why do I need to do this tomorrow, again?”

“We’re doing it, not you; we’re a team. We’re doing it tomorrow because that magic will be coming into our house the day after that. I can’t have you running cross country to escape it, and I’d really rather not have you fight it off here. No offense, but you’re not the most orderly pony I’ve met.”

“You also have all these enchantments lying around that might interfere, I’d imagine.”

“Some, yes. So I’d rather we meet it somewhere in the middle; that means tomorrow. I’ve got a location already picked out, don’t worry.”

“You work fast.”

Fleur just smiled. “Pillow’s ready.”

Fleur got up at seven, Colgate eight-thirty, and they got to work practicing dispelling enchantments by nine. By noon, Colgate was dispelling everything Fleur put on the pillow without much trouble.

By one, Fleur set the pillow back on the couch. “Let’s go.”

“Huh? Wait, now?”

“Now, Colgate.”

Colgate stared at her, dumbstruck, while Fleur got her things into her purse. “You could’ve given me some notice, you know. What if I’m not ready?”

“You’re ready. Come on, we have a schedule.”

Colgate shook her head in vexation.

Fleur opened the door to the garage. “Let’s go.”

Colgate wordlessly got into the car, and they sped out of the neighborhood.

“I didn’t want you practicing with that hard deadline on your mind. You’d get sloppy and nervous as it got closer. Better to spring it on you, like ripping off a bandage.”

“And here I thought you just did it for a laugh.”

“I have your blindfold right here. Actually, it’s just my sleeping mask. I’ll tell you when to put it on.” They stopped at a red light. “This,” she continued, producing a small headset from the back seat, “is what we call a hummer. You ever seen one?”

“No,” Colgate said sulkily.

“You wear it on your head with this little piece in your ear, and it emits sounds at either constant or intermittent intervals.”

“Oh, I get it. So if the sound starts to get all chopped up, I can know I’m close to the moon.”

“The moon?”

“That’s the form it took when it targeted me, so yeah, the moon.” Colgate looked askance at Fleur, as if not sure Fleur would approve the name.

“You’re right about the hummer. I can talk through it too, so that’s what I’ll use to guide you.”

“I didn’t know they made machines this small.”

“It’s mostly magical.”

Colgate nodded and put it on, experimenting with the adjustments. “I guess I get why you didn’t tell me when we were leaving.”

Fleur smiled, knowing not to respond verbally to the statement. Colgate might think she was rubbing it in that she was right. “We’re going to a track. Specifically, Jackdaw University’s track. A couple of my other Daturas have already seen to it that the area is evacuated. You’ll have plenty of space to dispel the moon.” She tapped her hoof along with the radio. “I like the name.”

“And you’re completely certain this thing is going to be there?”

“Once we get there, I’m going to drive a little ahead. If you look back there, you’ll see a set of potions wired together. Those are for detecting it.”

Colgate looked back obediently. She had noticed the potions earlier, but paid them no mind; her thoughts had been elsewhere. Fleur had wired up six huge, circular beakers full of what looked simply like colored water, and, on the lip of one, perched what resembled a dislodged clock face, inscribed with a tiny sigil.

“You made this yourself?” Colgate asked.

“Last night, yes, after you went to bed. I tested it then too.”

Colgate narrowed her eyes, and Fleur knew why; it didn’t sit well with her that Fleur had left her in the night.

“We’ll go up, make sure it’s where we want it, then circle back and get you out in the field. Then, it’s just like how we practiced.”

Colgate fiddled more with the hummer.

They drove past the college and up to a strip mall, where Fleur turned in. They circled the parking lot and stopped for a moment by the north entrance.

“I don’t feel any different,” Colgate said. “Hummer’s working okay. How do I adjust the volume?”

“That little dial on the side there.” Fleur looked back at her potions, willing the first one to react. When it did, Colgate jumped; she had not expected the liquid to emit a sound. The washed-out green potion chirped like a mechanical bird in the back seat, and Fleur nodded, satisfied. “We’re within sixty feet of it. First chirp is sixty, second fifty, and so on. They increase in pitch.”

“Drive us closer. I want to be sure all of these work,” Colgate said.

“That’s the plan.” She got them out of the parking lot, where the potion stopped for a moment, and then up the road, where it restarted and was quickly joined by two more. “Blindfold, Colgate. I’m gonna get us closer.”

“I don’t like this.”

“Put it on.”

Colgate glowered at her.

“Do you want to have to deal with it here, or on the field? Blindfold on. I promise I know what I’m doing; you won’t get teleported.”

Colgate slowly covered her eyes, her frown etched like a thin cut in stone. As she had often since taking Colgate in, she wondered how close Colgate was to doing something impulsive. The frown gave little away, aside from general dissatisfaction.

Fleur had to only drive them, slowly, for a minute before all six potions were singing in the back. As soon as the final one activated, she threw the car into reverse and got them well away before doing a U turn. Colgate, blinded, had frozen in her seat. Fleur could see the tension in every part of her body.

“We’re fine, we’re back away. Everything works.”

Colgate didn’t say anything until they were back at the college. “How long do I have?”

“Between fifteen and twenty minutes. Get out there and do your best to relax.”

“Where will you be?”

“I’ll drive ahead and monitor the potions. I’ll let you know as it gets closer.”

Colgate lifted the mask. “Any recommendations on where to stand?”

“Wherever you like. Preferably somewhere flat.” Fleur let Colgate out near the bleachers, patted her once on the back, and drove beside the track to the field’s far end. Through her earpiece, she could hear Fleur humming to herself.

“Can I talk to you through this thing?”

“I have your voice come through on the radio, yes.”

Colgate slowly walked into the empty field and, after a moment of looking around, decided to stand in the exact middle, in the white, painted circle. “You have a thing for radios, I notice.”

“I used to take them apart and try to rebuild them when I was younger. That was when I had time.”

“Go figure.”

“Second potion just started.”

“Any reason you made ‘em sound like birds?”

“That’s how it turned out. Are you okay? You sound nervous.”

Anger, but not suspicion, appeared in Colgate’s mind. “Of course I’m nervous.”

“Take some deep breaths. Think of this as your re-initiation into the Datura, if you like.”

The words passed straight through her ears; she was watching the fence at the end of the track, waiting for the strange, smooth shape to appear against the city backdrop. It would probably appear as a shadow at first, until it started to grow. Imagining it, she backed up a step.

“Third potion’s on. Get your blindfold. It should be coming into sight momentarily.”

The word startled Colgate. Momentarily: in a moment. In a moment, it would be in visual range, and upon her not long after. She fumbled the mask over her eyes and backed up another couple steps. The hummer pumped a soothing, low pulse into her ear, and she thought she could detect the first signs of fragmentation.

“Fourth potion. How’s your hearing?”

“Getting fuzzy. How close until I can dispel it?”

“Your horn isn’t on yet?”

“Should it be?”

“Colgate, as soon as you can feel it with your magic, start.” She heard Fleur sigh, and more chirping start up behind her. “Fifth potion.”

Colgate lit her horn and extended her magic as far as she could, which was not far. Prior to the night before, she had never needed to extend it farther than across the room; stretching more made her feel lightheaded, something Fleur told her would improve with practice.

“Sixth potion. It’s right on top of me.”

For a brief, horrifying moment, Colgate could hear only the potions making their noises, and thought that the rampant spell had gotten Fleur. Maybe she had been wrong, and the moon could get anyone.

“Fleur?”

“What?”

“Nothing, just checking.” Relief filled her for only a second, then she heard the background noise lose one potion.

“It’s coming. Remember, deep breaths, relax. Reach out and feel it, then just apply your magic however you need to. Unwrap the spell, Colgate.”

Fleur’s voice, like the hummer’s sound, was steadily losing its cohesion. She once again sounded like she was speaking from the opposite end of a tunnel.

“I need quiet,” Colgate said. Her lips tingled.

“Acknowledged.” Fleur paused. “Back to four.”

Colgate didn’t hear her relay the potion count; she was in her own world of anxiety. She remembered the night she had accidentally found the moon, the fractured darkness and the drilling sound of the crickets singing, and she thought that she might prefer it. That night, she had been inundated with sensations, but, alone in the field with just the disintegrating sounds of the hummer, she felt like she was already dead, but hadn’t yet discovered it. Her practice suddenly didn’t seem to amount to much.

She stumbled and fell into the grass, and realized that she had been backing up. The hummer sounded no less insistent, the feel of the ground on her hooves no less distant, but she was tuning them out all the same. She was focused, but on nothing in particular. It was simply an empty intensity of thought, bereft of intention or target. She was ready to panic.

“Three.”

The voice pulled her back, and she was able to make herself stop and reach out with her magic again; she still felt nothing. Though blinded, Colgate turned her head in a slow, worried circle, noting the mild unsteadiness creeping into her hooves, parting her from the ground.

“I could let it get me,” she realized suddenly. It would put an end to her suspicion, her mood swings, and the infrequent but still intense onslaughts of withdrawal symptoms that beleaguered her. She might die, or she might wind up somewhere completely different, but, either way, she would be finally free of the Datura.

“Two potions left, Colgate. Can you feel it?” Fleur’s tinny voice asked in her ear, echoing as if from the bottom of a long shaft.

Colgate backed up again, feeling as though she must soon pass out. As before, in the dark field, and before that in the company of her drug-addled friends, her only recourse was to sit down and wait for the feeling to pass, or else claim her and allow her to wake up in a hospital somewhere.

“Maybe it’ll teleport me to a hospital,” she thought. “That would be funny.”

“Last one. You can do it.”

Colgate looked around again. Her head felt like a bowling ball wheeling through empty air, and her ears buzzed with the hummer’s noise, reduced to static.

“Your horn! Use your magic, damn it!” Fleur’s voice was as soft as a memory to Colgate.

Her face pressed down into something that felt, to her, like a feather pillow. In her ear, Fleur was shouting about her horn.

The hummer’s static had turned into a white hiss.

Then, something clicked in her mind, and she sprang up, falling back over into that same pillow. She rolled and crawled back, trusting her muscles to move her even though she could not feel the ground. When the hiss returned back to static, she realized the impression of pain was flashing across her face.

She stood up and activated her horn, not sure when she had let it go out, and felt with a jolt of fear the magic, bearing down on her and big as life. Fleur’s enchanted pillow had felt harmless, even fun, the night before, but there was nothing harmless or fun about the magic that approached her a mere ten feet away. She could feel its size as it relentlessly rolled toward her, and she backed off as fast as she could while trying to concentrate on the dispelling magic.

She stumbled again and fell, this time hitting something much harder, and felt another flash of pain across her side.

“You’re on the track, Colgate.”

Colgate steadied herself as well as she was able and tried to concentrate on her magic. The static had returned to a fuzzy pulse, but was turning back steadily.

She felt the moon’s size and heft once more, but did not let herself be frightened, instead letting her magic cover its surface; that was frequently the first step to dispelling something.

“Relax, take it slow,” Fleur said.

Colgate could feel her magic seeping into the moon’s outer shell, just as she was again losing touch with the ground. Her head swam, but her magic didn’t break; she used it as an anchor.

“Too close,” she thought unhappily, and once again began her backwards march.

“You’re at the bleachers,” Fleur said.

Colgate stopped. Her magic was working, but it was slow. Fear again grew inside her, but she smothered it.

“Move to your right. You’re right against the bleachers.”

“This is it,” she thought quickly. The thought simply shot through her mind, but, once there, she could not reject it. Fleur had her completely trapped. She couldn’t take off her mask without risking falling into the malign spell, and she couldn’t move any farther back; she felt the bleachers against her back legs. She was cornered and blind, easy prey for a Datura seeking revenge.

“Your right, Colgate, your right.”

She trembled where she stood, her magic thinning in the lapse of concentration. She was finished, she knew; it was just a matter of how she chose to end her life.

The static in her ear was again becoming a hiss, and she faltered away, not trusting Fleur, but preferring that to being sucked into the moon. She could feel her legs moving at a gallop, and sensation again clarified. She stopped and turned, redoubling her magic, still keeping a tenuous grip on the moon.

Nothing happened. She had expected some kind of sudden attack, either a burning scythe of magic to cut her down or perhaps simply Fleur’s car, tossing her like a crushed cup. Her anxiety heightened in the calm, sunny air; she wanted again to cast off her mask and her efforts and run away.

“You can do it, Colgate,” Fleur said.

She lifted her hoof as she felt something drip onto it, thinking at first that rain had come. Then, with a start, she realized the significance: she could feel.

The moon still approached, but from afar, and Colgate thought again of her magic, finding it easier to reach in and begin the process of untangling the spell that chased her. In her focus, she didn’t notice the hummer’s familiar transition from pulse to static.

“Almost there,” she mumbled, not knowing whether she was.

She had not felt a sensation of its like in her life. Her magic, comparatively weak, was mixing and moving inside the larger spell like an infection. Her horn was warm, and her mind felt adrift with the effort of holding the spell in place. Still, she could feel the moon coming undone, and, once it began, it was over so fast that Colgate thought something had gone wrong.

She turned in place, casting about for the threatening magic, feeling nothing. The hummer pulsed gently, and the ground felt solid and real.

“Colgate? Did you get it?” Fleur asked. Her voice was as clear as a bell.

Colgate lifted the sleep mask off her face, pulling with it some of her fur. Her face was sticky with blood, and she had a scrape down her flank. She threw the mask off onto the concrete. “Think so.”

Fleur breathed a sigh of relief, and was silent for a minute. “You had me really scared there.”

“I was pretty scared myself.” She felt clear and attentive, and, for the first time since arriving in Canterlot, strong. It was not the feeling of bombastic power that she felt when she was with Powder Rouge, but the feeling of simple solidity, the proud feeling of overcoming adversity. Her mistrust of Fleur had vanished in a wash of honest relief.

“You probably see that you took a few spills. Do you feel okay?”

Colgate tenderly touched her muzzle. “Some ice wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll be right there, and we can get you back home.”

Colgate looked back at the bleachers that had hemmed her in. Fleur had guided her past them to an open patch of dust in front of an empty concession stand. She looked down to see a few speckles of blood in the dust, trying to consider the implications of what she was realizing. There had been no setup. From the start, Fleur had only tried to help.

She got into the car, not forgetting to grab the bloodied sleep mask.

Thousands of miles to the south, under another heavy Trottingham thunderstorm, Twilight walked to Lacey Kisses’ shed. Back at the airship lot where they had first landed, Gold Ribbon was personally seeing to the preparation of her airship, with the other Elements keeping close watch. Whippoorwill waited in a different, smaller car, Gold Ribbon’s chauffeur.

Twilight had to pound on the door to be heard over the rain. Though she had a shield up to keep out the wetness, she could not completely block out the cold, and shivered on Lacey’s doorstep.

“I wasn’t totally sure this was really happening,” Lacey said, walking out with no bags and no belongings. “I’m still not.”

“Applejack promised we weren’t tricking you,” Twilight said. “She’s the Element of Honesty.”

“I have a tough time with that logic. Anyway, let’s do this.”

The two mares walked back toward the lot, Lacey keeping a respectful distance from Twilight, who had to extend her shield to keep the rain off both of them.

“Why would you do this, Twilight?”

Twilight looked at her. In the short time she had allowed rain to batter her, Lacey had been diminished to a bedraggled, ashen skeleton. When they had first met, in Manehattan, her mane and tail had been colored in jarring stripes of jet black and hot pink, the remnants of which had remained when they met her again days ago. She had washed it all out in the intervening time, though, and Twilight was surprised and a little amused to see her natural hair color, a bubblegum pink much like Pinkie’s. The only vibrant color on her now was the ruby red lipstick cutie mark, which often reminded Twilight of a small flesh wound.

“I did it because I don’t think you deserve to waste away here,” Twilight said.

“A sentiment shared by everyone in your group, I presume?”

“Not entirely.” Twilight didn’t explain; she knew Lacey knew who did want her to waste away.

“I appreciate it.”

They walked past the water collection station where Lacey had once worked. The large metal trough at the top had extended like an orchid blossom, stems of magic holding massive, thin sheets of plastic out in a wide, flooding funnel. Where the water went, Twilight could not see.

“It’s kind of silly to have just one of these out here,” Twilight said.

“They were working on building more. Just never got around to it, I guess.”

“Hm.”

When they reached the airship lot, Gold Ribbon was there in a dull, black cloak that made his olive fur appear dark and rotten. A wide, burgundy umbrella floated on a magical string attached to a small, golden button on the clasp of his cloak, and Twilight was reminded of a wilting, magical flower that had somehow taken root in stone. Gold Ribbon’s entire lower half was soaked, but he appeared not to mind.

They walked to the side of the second, much smaller airship, to talk out of the rain.

“Your ship, Miss Kisses,” Gold Ribbon said, nodding solemnly. His deep-set eyes studied her dourly, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“Are you coming with me?” she asked.

“One of my employees will escort you to Canterlot.” He looked back at another heavyset earth pony, who sauntered up and shook Lacey’s hoof perfunctorily.

Lacey looked back at the ship, then at Gold Ribbon, then at Twilight. “This really is happening.”

“Don’t let Canterlot eat you alive,” Rarity said from a distance, she and the others comfortable under her superior shield.

Gold Ribbon gestured at the ship. “Safe travels,” he said with a final note.

“I’ll be right back,” Twilight said, and he frowned. She still held his check, but wanted to say goodbye to Lacey first. She wanted him to wait in the rain.

The employee boarded first, mindless of the rain, and took a position at the small torch. Lacey boarded next, stepping out of Twilight’s shield into the cold rain. “I won’t forget this, Twilight.”

“As I said, I didn’t want to see you waste away here.” She looked around. “Does this have any protection against lightning?” she asked the employee.

“It has all the standard protective enchantments,” the employee said.

Lacey came closer and stuck out her hoof, which Twilight shook firmly.

“Friends?” Twilight asked.

“You really screwed me over in Manehattan,” Lacey said. “But this is… I’m grateful, truly. Not friends, but not enemies either. If I see you in Canterlot, I’ll say hi. Maybe.”

Twilight smiled. “Probably the best I can ask for, considering.” She stepped off the airship’s gangplank, and Lacey turned the crank to bring it up.

“Good luck out there.”

“And to you, Lacey.” With that, she walked back down to Gold Ribbon, who stared at her unabashedly.

“Your friend is on her ship, and the hundred bits in her cabin,” he said.

Twilight neatly took out the check, already signed, and floated it to Gold Ribbon, who deftly stowed it in a pocket somewhere in his cloak. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said.

He nodded and walked off the lot. Only when the car doors slammed and the tail lights disappeared into the rainy distance did Twilight and her friends board their own ship and watch Lacey’s break through the low clouds.