Twilight Sparkle lays on her back, on top of the soft blanket in her room, wearing a fresh purple tunic and no socks or boots. The room is warm from the sunlight and the chirping birds, distant bells and soft splashes of water are soothing ambiances, but Twilight cannot relax.

Her hands are balled and resting on her chest, where they clutch the pendants her father gave her. Her eyes burn and no matter how many times she swallows the lump in her throat will not leave. Trails of tears roll down her cheeks and all she can see inside herself is a fog that shrouds all the answers she needs. Even when there is a knock on the door, Twilight's ears barely move and all she can do is sniffle.

The door opens and Celestia enters with Spike by her side.

“Twilight, you need to come down to eat,” says Celestia.

“I will,” says Twilight without looking away from the ceiling.

“You said that yesterday,” says Spike. “And the day before that, and the day before that, and the week before that.”

Celestia moves to Twilight's side and places her hand on her shoulder. “You need to eat, Twilight. All you have done for the past month is read and sleep, and it is worrying me.”

Twilight swallows and tightens her grip on the pendants with a new flow of tears trickling down her face. “Don't worry about me, please. I'm fine.”

“No, you aren't fine,” says Spike. “Ever since we got here you've been starving yourself and doing nothing but research and sleep. Heck, you don't even bathe as much as you used to and you reek like a dead animal, now.”

“I have to do my research, though. Apple Bloom, Shining and Twist are gone because of me, Purity hates me, and Trixie is still trapped by Sombra. If I can free Trixie then there will be at least one good thing to come out of this mess.”

“But starving yourself will not help you solve anything. You probably cannot even think straight, right now,” says Celestia.

“I can think just fine,” says Twilight.

“Oh, really?” says Spike. “Then what's five hundred and fifty two times sixty seven divided by twelve?”

Twilight stares at Spike, wanting to answer his question, but all she can think of is dancing numbers using cinnamon sticks as canes and singing about candy and vegetables. The result, a blank stare and a dumb hum.

“See? You cannot even solve that easy problem,” says Spike. “You need to eat, and if I have to drag you out of bed and strap you to the chair, then so be it.”

“Knock. Knock.”

The trio turns to the door, and Twilight's exhausted eyes nearly pop out of her sockets, as does Spike, when she sees Pinkie Pie standing in the door. Celestia, on the other hand, looks confused.

Pinkie Pie is holding a tray of food, and dressed in a servant attire for some reason. The black dress is tight fitting and flows down to her ankles, and the white apron barely passes her waist, and she is wearing her gloves, again. However, she is not wearing any underclothing at all, leaving her muscled, pink arms exposed, as well as a generous portion of the top and sides of her bust, which Spike is staring at with bigger eyes.

Perverted displays and food aside, Twilight notices that along the mare's arms are a series of healed scratches and puncture wounds. There is even a large one that makes a clean line at the bottom of her neck, from one side to the other, and partially covered by the clothing strap is a “5” seared on her shoulder. Twilight is speechless about what she has just now noticed, but seconds later, she breaks free from the observational trance and leans over and smacks Spike, making him jump and look at Twilight.

“What did I do?” says Spike.

“You know what you did,” says Twilight.

“Pinkie, why are you wearing one of the servant's dresses? And where are your underclothes?” says Celestia.

Pinkie Pie snickers and bounces her way into the room, hopping to a stop in front of Celestia and peering up at her with a massive smile and their chests pressing against each other. Celestia looks down at Pinkie Pie, still confused, but now has a faint red tint on her cheeks.

“I had to do some laundry and it was either this or the birthday suit,” says Pinkie Pie. She then lifts up the tray off food, which is stacked with pastries and breads. “Cake?”

Celestia's eyes flick around the room, and then with a tiny sigh, she plucks a slice of chocolate cake from the plate. Pinkie then twirls on one foot and leans towards Spike, smiling at him with lidded eyes and holding the plate to his nose.

“Donut?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“Um, I guess,” says Spike, slowly taking the first donut he sees.

After he takes the donut, Pinkie Pie leaps on the bed, landing on her butt next to Twilight, making her bounce with an surprised squeak.

“How about you, Princess? Do you want a high carbohydrate meal of the best bread ever?” says Pinkie Pie.

Twilight pushes the plate away and slides down the bed. “I'm not hungry.”

Twilight's stomach growls in disagreement.

“Don't give me that,” says Pinkie Pie. “I hear your hunger and I can see your collar bone. Starving yourself is really stupid, you know?”

“She's right,” says Celestia, her mouth full of cake. “You really need to have something to eat.”

Twilight does not answer, and even though she is frowning at Pinkie Pie, she cannot get pity out of her mind when she sees more faint scratches on her face.

“I'm still not hungry,” says Twilight, even though her stomach has tightened and her mouth is flooding with saliva from the scent of fresh baked goods.

Pinkie Pie hums and leans back. “I see. Hey, Celestia, can you and Spike hold her down while I force feed her?”

Spike cracks his knuckles and rolls his neck. “No problem.”

Twilight tenses and mentally prepares herself for a defense spell while trying to keep her eyes on her new enemies and not on the treats. Those delicious, nose tingling, mouth watering slices of Paradise that are hypnotizing her with their inviting colors and wonderful builds. Truly, devils disguised as angels.

However, Spike and Pinkie Pie do not get the opportunity to stuff Twilight with the pastries since as soon as they make their move, Celstia orders them to stop. They freeze in their tracks and the two plus Twilight look at Celestia, who is staring at the drake and Ranger with a patient look.

“You two do not have to waste your energy on something as childish as that,” says Celestia.

“Yes I do,” says Pinkie Pie.

“No you don't. In fact, I actually have something important to tell Twilight and I would like for you two to be elsewhere when I do.”

Pinkie Pie whines. “Aw, come on! I'll be quiet and you won't even know I'm here.”

“I don't even think you know where you are,” mutters Spike.

Pinkie Pie looks at him with a bemused frown and cocked brow. “Was that supposed to be an insult?”

Spike rolls his eyes, but Celestia folds her arms across her chest and stares at them like a scolding mother.

“Do you want me to call Eulabir?” says Celestia.

“Nope. Nuh uh. No no no. We're good. We're gone,” says Spike and Pinkie Pie over each other, both of their hands held up like shields and their heads shaking.

The two then turn tail hastily walk out, but Twilight frowns when Pinkie Pie links her's and Spike's arms and gives her a quick wink and smile.

“Come on, Spike. I'm going to show this great place I found when I was pranking the Night Watch,” says Pinkie Pie, now dragging the drake with her despite his objections.

“Behave, you two!” says Celestia.

When the two are out of sight and earshot, Twilight huffs and continues her stare down at the doorway.

“I don't trust her,” says Twilight.

“She got you here and saved you and Spike, didn't she?” says Celestia.

“Yes, but I've had some very strange experiences with her. She has no sense of privacy and over the past month she has proven to have no idea how civilization works.”

Celestia hums. “You'll just have to forgive her, then. Believe me, I know she is strange to be around, but if she was an actual threat to any of us, she would not be here. You just have to remember that scars go deeper than skin.”

Twilight is silent and looks down at her hands, noting how bony they are and how years of travel have left them rough and scarred. Just not as much as the Ranger's.

“But, I do not wish to discuss odd behavior. For now, I have some news for you. One good, one bad, and one just news,” says Celestia.

“What's the good news?” asks Twilight.

“I'll tell you if you eat.”

Twilight wants to decline and tell Celestia that she needs to study as a poor excuse to make sure Pinkie is not doing something awful to Spike. But while she thinks about the choice, her legs keep her down and her stomach scolds her for her stupidity. In fact, whatever resolve Twilight has to starving herself in the name of research and espionage quickly crumbles when Celestia holds up a thick piece of bread with shredded cheese cooked into it.

“Eat, Twilight,” says Celestia firmly.

Twilight nibbles on the bread, and she sips tangy drink that Celestia summons. The combination of the bread and drink is filling, but it also leaves her a bit nauseous. That said, when Celestia starts speaking, Twilight stops eating listens carefully.

“An odd company was spotted not too far from here,” says Celestia. “According to our scouts they are less than a day's journey away and consist earth ponies, pegasi and foalings. They are worn, but appear to be unharmed.”

Twilight gasps and grins brightly with tears of joy flowing down her face. “It must be Apple Bloom! It has to be her! Did they give any descriptions about the foalings? Is Shining with them?”

Celestia shakes her head, barely able to look at Twilight. “I'm sorry, but your brother has not been sighted. Nothing of his fate or whereabouts have been heard, but I did spread the word and offered a reward to anypony that returns him alive and in good condition to Armonia.”

Twilight's face falls and her shoulders and ears droop. “Oh. Please tell me that was the bad news.”

“It was.”

Twilight nods and sniffles, trying to blink the tears out of her eyes. “Okay. What's the news-news?”

Celestia holds out another piece of bread to Twilight, and in turn, she sighs and reluctantly restarts eating. When she is done with her meal Celestia speaks again.

“I have assembled a meeting between the nations,” says Celestia as she brushes crumbs off of Twilight's thigh and the bed. “Truthfully, I sent the letters out on the day of your arrival and I gave one to Davenport to personally deliver to his parents when he left for Everfree. Originally, the meeting was going to be about a ceasefire between the factions so we can combat Sombra's power. However, if the foalings have the Amulet, then its destruction must be addressed.”

“You sent letters? Why didn't you have Luna do her dream message thing?” asks Twilight.

Celestia's shoulders sag with a quiet sigh, and her eyes drift out the window to look at an observatory on the top of a peak. “Luna has not been well, lately. She has not said it to me, but I can see it in her actions and hear it in her words. The growing darkness is making her sick and I do not want her sickness to spread to others, so she is strictly observational at this point. It aggravates her, but she knows it is for the best.”

Twilight wrings her hands together, nibbling her lips and peering up at her mentor meekly. “What about you, Celestia? Are you sick from all this... darkness?”

Twilight grimaces slightly from her own vocabulary choice, but Celestia makes no apparent notice of this. Instead, the Alicorn Queen stands up, straightens out her dress, and smiles down at Twilight while giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You do not have to worry about me, Twilight. Just rebuild your strength. You'll need it for what's to come... And you also need to take a bath. A long, hot, deep, scrubbing bath. You're stench is equivalent to that of a corpse and we're running low on perfumes to block it.”

And then Celestia smiles, pats Twilight on the shoulder, and wishes her a good day, leaving her alone to burn alive in her own embarrassment.

Heat is something Applejack usually does not mind. A good, hot day on the family orchard meant better apples, more refreshing drinks and comfortable shades. The orchard behind the Apple Manor is something she really misses. The endless, uniform rows of apple tress that were maintained by the diligent servants was a sight she had loved and knows she will never see again. She misses conversing with them, sneaking away from the guards so she can climb the tress, help pick apples and watch and learn how they prepare meals. However, as good as those days had been, those memories are hard to find. It is like walking through a mausoleum built into a maze. All she can find are snippets, and they only remind her of how the Apples have been abandoned on heaven and earth.

“Take care of those around you, and they will be forever by your side,” is what her father would say, but in the end it did not that play out like that. She still sees her father's head bouncing down the stone steps of their manor, hears her brother's agonizing cry as the fires consume him, and the swinging body and weak gasps of air from her mother are clear as if it happened only minutes ago. The slaughter of her grandparents, cousins, nieces and nephews, and aunts and uncles by the Davenport's hands faced no ounce of resistance. None of their “loyal servants” came to their aid, choosing the shadows and comfort of surrender over the light and chaos of defiance. Not even her pledging servitude in exchange for the safety of what little of the family remained could save them.

Now, here she is, walking through a town on a hot day as a slave too scared to run, carrying a container clipped to her belt that is filled with orders of the local stores. Originally she was tasked with alerting the stores of Davenport's hiatus, but they did not listen and gave her lists of products, instead. Applejack is sure he will be grumpy about it, but then again, he is always grumpy.

After getting an order from a general store, Applejack finds just a little bit of relief taking the weight off of her shoulders. The major task is done for the day. Now all that is left is to give Davenport the papers, listen to him gripe about it, feed him and his company, do the dishes, count the stock, clean the ship and don't look anybody in the eye. Maybe if she is lucky she can get more than four hours of sleep.

In the midst of her thinking, Applejack barely picks up the curious whispering of children, and she looks to the source and sees a small group of foals gathered at an alley. She goes to them and notices a unicorn stallion laying face first in a puddle of mud, and from how ratty his clothes are and how his rancid smell burns her nose, she is sure that he is dead. The flies buzzing around him and nesting on his greasy, clumped, blue mane don't do the potential corpse any favors, either.

“Is he dead?” asks one of the kids.

“I don't know,” says another.

“There's only one way to find out. The stick test.”

The kids nod and one of them grabs a conveniently placed stick on a nearby barrel and starts poking the body. The flies swarm around and land on different parts of the fallen unicorn, and sickly, wet squishing sounds are somehow heard over the giggling. The kids prod on his arms, thighs, and ribs, but when they poke the bandaged muzzle, the unicorn's hand snatches the stick like a striking snake.

The kids squeal and run away, cursing or laughing or doing both, and the unicorn lifts his head up, growling in pain as mud drips from his face.

“Stupid brats,” says the unicorn weakly.

He throws the stick away, face plants the mud and then becomes motionless. Applejack, meanwhile, stares at the unicorn, wide eyed and completely clueless as to what she should do. With how still the unicorn has become, she sincerely believes that he has died on the spot, but she also thought he was dead last time, so against her better judgment she lightly taps his shoulder with her foot.

“Are you alive?” asks Applejack.

“No,” replies the unicorn.

“Are you okay?”

The unicorn frowns at her. “You ask really stupid questions.”

Applejack returns the frown. “There ain't no reason to be rude about this.”

The unicorn rolls his eyes, then with a wince he sits up against the barrel, his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut. With him sitting against the barrel, Applejack's frown disappears to horror that sucks the air out of her, for much of his ruined clothing are covered in dried blood.

“What on earth happened to you?” asks Applejack.

The unicorn removes a canteen from his belt, takes a swig from it and wipes his muzzle with a shaky hand, revealing some of his white fur.

“I got into a fight and it didn't end well for me,” he says.

“Are you a crook or something?” asks Applejack hesitantly.

The unicorn shakes his head. “Nope. Just one of the unforgiven.” He takes another sip and studies her halfheartedly. “Could you please tell me where I am? I've been nomadic for the past month and I think I might be walking in a big circle.”

“Oh. Here?” Applejack nibbles her lip and looks around, trying to remember the name of the town, and his drunken stare is not helping her, any. Only when a cart full of smelly, glass-eyed fish passes on by does she remember. “Fishburg. You're in Fishburg, Everfree.”

“Fishburg? What kind of name is Fishburg?”

Applejack shrugs. “Its got a lot of pegasi, does a lotta dealings with the Pegasi Tribes and pegasi love their fish. They say its got somethin' to do with protein, brain health and, er, lustrous coats.”

Applejack recoils inwardly about the last part, and the unicorn looks at her, then past her shoulder where a group of overly buff, severely scarred pegasi pass with ratty fur, wild hair and missing teeth, all armed with half a dozen weapons. One whistles at Applejack, but she ignores them and is glad when they keep walking to buy bundles of cod.

“Lustrous coats, eh? I always knew they were a bunch of peacocks,” says the unicorn.

“You said you were lost. Are you going anywhere in particular?” says Applejack, wanting to change the subject so the drunkard does not say anything stupid about pegasi while the brutes are nearby.

The unicorn takes another sip from his canteen. “Armonia. There's some business that I need to take care of.”

Applejack studies the unicorn, finding it hard to believe that someone as filthy as him has business in Armonia. However, after searching for any signs of deception, she sees nothing of the sort. All she sees is pain and aggravation, which she really cannot blame him. She knows she would be grumpy if she were in his shoes. Or worn down leather boots, in this case.

“What's your name?” asks Applejack.

“Just call me Sprinkles. Everypony else does,” says the unicorn after taking a large gulp of his drink. “What about you? What's your name?”

“Applejack.”

Sprinkles stares at her quizzically, and in turn she stares at him. Things start to get awkward with the staring, and not even her shifting her stance or pretending to take interest in a random passing couple can alleviate it.

“Isn't that a guy's name?” asks Sprinkles.

“Its unisex,” replies Applejack quickly.

“Oh.”

“Look, I, um.” Applejack takes a deep breath and looks over her shoulder again, not seeing Davenport's boat, but quite a bit of buildings. “I am also heading over to Armonia with my master. Maybe we can give you a lift?”

“Would your master even let somepony like me on?”

Applejack shrugs. “Honestly, I ain't sure, but he let a dragon on a boat last time, so I don't see how a hobo will be any different.”

Sprinkles' brows scrunch. “A dragon?”

Applejack nods.

“Would this dragon happen to be purple, civilized and traveling with a unicorn mare?” asks Sprinkles. “She's also purple. Like, all purple. Purple fur, purple mane, purple eyes, probably purple clothes, too. She really likes purple. And grapes. Especially grapes.”

“Yeah, there was a purple unicorn with him, and they were being escorted by Pinkie Pie.”

“Pinkie Pie? Pinkie Pie as in the pink, hammer wielding mare who is absolutely insane?”

Applejack drums her fingers on her container, inhaling slowly. “Well, I don't think she's too bad. I mean, I think she was dropped as a baby, but Pinkie's just Pinkie.”

Sprinkle's shoots his hand up to Applejack, with his eyes burning bright with the flames of determination. “Take me to your boat.”

Minutes later, Applejack finds herself absorbing the odor and grime of Sprinkles as she half carries, half drags him up the ramp to Davenport's improved boat, and really wanting to dunk him in a tub. The boat still has its sail and large paddles, but the sail is made of new white fabric, like a sail made of a cloud, and the paddles are all new. The ship has been reinforced with metal strips holding the wood in place, and the wood has been painted red. The windows are polished, an anchor has been attached and an extra storage block has been added to the deck, as well as new railings.

Though, while the ship is a beautiful sight, the guards greeting them on the deck are another story. They are clad in dark red leather armor with brown cloaks held by golden apple clips and their gazes condemn Applejack and Sprinkles on the spot. And standing not too far from them is Davenport.

Applejack stops and looks at Davenport, tensing and holding on to Sprinkles tighter, hoping he cannot feel her shaking. The guards and their equipment of swords, clubs and bow and arrows are not making the hiding any easier, and when Sprinkles puts a comforting hand over hers, she gets a sick feeling in her gut that she has failed at hiding the fear.

“Applejack, I told you to inform the store owners of my hiatus, not bring in strays,” says Davenport.

“I'm sorry, but he's hurt and needs a ride to Armonia,” says Applejack, nodding to Sprinkles, who offers a smile and friendly wave.

Davenport shakes his head. “No. Put him back where you found him. We don't have the time to be a charity ride.”

“Are you the captain of the ship?” asks Sprinkles.

“That I am,” says Davenport.

“Good. Look, I really need a ride to Armonia. I can pay you or something. Like do your laundry, or wash some dishes or do whatever. I just need a ride to Armonia as soon as possible.”

Davenport scoffs. “Unbelievable. I just said no and here you go asking again. Maybe I should just paint: 'Davenport's Transportation Service' on the side of my ship! Seriously, what is so hard about no? When did no become yes?”

“You don't know how to enforce a 'no'. That is why everypony walks all over you,” says an old stallion with a shaky voice. “And this is no ship, Dilbert. If you want to see a ship, you should have a look at Marque's ship. That is a craft of beauty.”

Applejack gulps and takes a step back, taking Sprinkles with her when a stallion with pale gray fur and a wiry, white mane steps out from the boat's gut with the help of a polished cane with a large, white orb on its top. His eyes are black and sunken, but his robes are made of silk of all bright colors. Gold, white, sky blue, bright, leafy green patterns, and emerald cuffs and necklaces. It really is an eyesore for Applejack, but one particular jewel has once left her blood boiling, but now every time she sees it, it leaves her feeling numb from her failure.

A ruby with a sun inside a tree etched in gold and attached to a gold chain. The Apple Family's heirloom. Their sacred jewel. A piece passed down from each king and queen of the family, and never worn by anyone without Apple blood. That is, until she failed her family. Now, every time she sees the black pits of the old noble's eyes and the jewel, she is only reminded of how the Davenports taunt the last Apple and how she will never win against them.

“I really should have had him transport me instead of you, but unlike you, he is actually doing important work with his time,” says the old noble, not paying any mind to Applejack.

Sprinkles snorts. “Well, aren't you just a phallus.”

The old noble snaps a glare at Sprinkles and a guard snarls and swings his club against the back of his leg. He drops to his knee, growing in pain and Applejack screams at them to stop, but she is quickly pulled away,restrained and silenced. He awkwardly grabs his injury while Applejack is kept back, keeping her hand to mouth and body shaking, and he stares at the guard with a pulsing hate in his eyes.

“That was rude,” says Sprinkles.

“No one has the right to talk to King Adirondack Davenport in such a manner as you did, hobo scum,” says the guard.

“Adirondack?” Sprinkles looks at the old noble. “Then I retract my statement, Your Majesty. You're an asshole.”

Applejack gasps and takes another step back, feeling ice cold dread surging through her whole body, knowing full well that she is in for a rough night.

“Throw the hobo off!” barks Davenport.

The guards grab Sprinkles arms and are about to haul him off when someone hollers at them to wait. Applejack, the guards the two Davenports look and see none other than Clan Lord Rainbow Blitz Hurricane with four armored pegasi by his side. He is not huge or thin, but rather average in build. His powder blue coat is well groomed and his rainbow mane is tied in a pony tail. The armor he wears is not elaborate, but simple, consisting of metal strips lanced together with sturdy fabric, and underneath that is chainmail and a shirt tied at the wrists with a lightning bolt circling his collar.

“That is no hobo. That is Shining Armor Sparkle, the Exiled Prince of Unicornia. There is a reward for his return to Armonia. Placed by Queen Celestia herself, if I am not mistaken,” says the pegasus.

The Davenports and guards exchange looks, some perplexed, others skeptical, and Sprinkles flashes a smug smile and straightens himself slightly after shrugging the guards off of him.

“Oh, you know me?” says Sprinkles. “I'm flattered.”

“How could I forget you? You punched me when I called you a fool for courting a peasant,” says Blitz.

Sprinkles thinks for a moment. “Oh, yeah. I remember you now. And you actually called Redheart a whore.”

“Same thing.”

Sprinkles narrows his eyes. “I also just remembered how much I hated your guts.”

Blitz returns the look. “Hate me all you want. I don't like you, either.” Then he smirks devilishly, grabs Sprinkles shoulder and forcefully leads him away from the others. “But let's push our hate aside and get my daughter to clean you up. I wouldn't want my reward dwindled because of a wanted man's poor condition. By the way, do you like grilled mackerel, by any chance?”

Blitz takes Sprinkles out of sight, and when the door slams shut, Applejack flinches, Davenport face-palms and Adirondack rolls his eyes with an abrasive sigh.

“I really hate that colt, sometimes,” says Adirondack. Then he snaps his fingers at Applejack, getting her attention. “Servant, bring me an apple salad to my quarters at once.”

And then he walks off to Davenport's quarters while his son moves to unanchor the boat, and Applejack scampers towards the kitchen. Along the way she barely hears Davenport mutter: “Rotten bastard.”

“I really don't like you,” says Rainbow Dash, staring straight ahead at a pile of kindling and logs being prepped for fire. “Not one bit. So do you know what that means?”

Behind her, Sweetie Belle shakes her head, but keeps her fingers moving in swift, delicate motions.

“It means you stop braiding my hair!” yells Rainbow Dash, suddenly turning around with a red face and her voice echoing.

Birds fly off in fright and Sweetie Belle yelps and falls back, but before Rainbow Dash can make a lunge, one of the earth pony's tugs on the chain attached to her cuffs. The result is Dash flopping to the side, swearing up a storm and kicking up grass and leaves. Her halfway braided mane swings to and fro during her trashing, and when she is done, she is on the ground, snarling rabidly while Braeburn's soldiers laugh.

“I hate you! I hate all of you! You can't treat me like this!” says Rainbow Dash.

“You're such a whiner, Colored Witch” says Braeburn. “I wonder how fast that story will spread. Colored Whiner. The loudest crybaby of the Pegasi Tribes.”

Rainbow Dash narrows her eyes at him. “I hate you the most.”

Braeburn snickers and pats her head. “I know you do, sugar tail.”

“I wouldn't press your luck. She's kind of crazy,” says Flash Sentry, also cuffed, but unlike Dash, he is being calm and collected and has already let Sweetie Belle braid his mane.

Redheart is also next to him, tending to his injuries, but she absolutely no care about the conversation around her, and Braeburn stands and looks at Flash, still smiling.

“Prisoner's ain't supposed to speak, either, pretty boy,” he says.

Flash holds up his hands defensively. “Hey, I'm just saying, you guys are not doing yourselves any favors by being rude like this.”

Not too far from the group, Apple Bloom sits, eyes distant and shaded with black. Nothing can stay in focus for her. Everything is splitting and overlapping, and her body and eyes feel like stone. She hears the voices, sees Scootaloo shoving Braeburn away and feels the afternoon heat, but she still feels dead. She wants to sleep, she wants to close her eyes, but cannot. Sleep provides no sanctuary for her, just like reality.

“Sleep. Sleep. Sleep little one~” hums the Shadow Foaling.

The voice is cold in Apple Bloom's ear, and the icy fingers tracing her shoulders bring tears to Apple Bloom's weary eyes and pushes a whimper out of her throat.

“Go to sleep, my little Apple Bloom~” continues the Shadow Foaling.

The fingers reach the edge of Apple Bloom's shoulder, and the Shadow Foaling steps in front of her, grinning with her ratty dress floating in the wind and her dark fur sucking away the light. She extends her hand and gently pulls down Apple Bloom's eyelids with no resistance. The world becomes black, and Apple Bloom feels all the weight disappear, making her feel like a feather floating in a void.

The Shadow Foaling's voice echoes in the darkness. “Sleep. Sleep, my sweet, little friend, and we'll end the torment as one~”

A sharp pain suddenly pierces through Apple Bloom's back, and her eyes snap open and she screams in pain. She expects to find an ice blade popping out of her gut, but she does not see that. Instead, she finds herself on the ground in the waning hours of the day with no injuries and Pipsqueak, the other foalings and Braeburn running to her side. Around them, the soldiers take defensive positions. Some aim their bows to the invisible foes while others grip the handles of their weapons or point their blades at the pegasi.

“Apple Bloom, are you all right?” asks Pipsqueak.

Apple Bloom looks up, sweating and shaking with bloodshot eyes. “It was just a nightmare.” Her trembling hand clutches her old wound. “I'm fine, really.”

“Uh huh,” says Braeburn, unconvinced. “Let's get you closer to the fire.”

Braeburn scoops up Apple Bloom, carries her the short distance over and sets her across from the pegasi. Once he steps back, the other foalings are quick to surround her and flood her with questions of concerns. Apple Bloom answers the best she can with uneasy smiles, and every now and then she will glance at Rainbow Dash, only to quickly look away since the pegasus is glaring daggers at her.

“Are you sure you're okay?” asks Pipsqueak, his hand on Apple Bloom's shoulder.

Apple Bloom nods. “I'm okay. I promise.”

“Do you want me to make you some tea or coffee or anything?” asks Twist.

“I'll see if I can make some more ointment for you,” says Redheart, now fishing in her bag of supplies.

Apple Bloom shakes her head. “No, you don't have to do that. I'm fine. Really.”

“Liar,” mutters Scootaloo.

“She's just trying to be brave,” says Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah. Brave like me,” says Button Mash proudly.

The foalings, the pegasi and Redheart stare at him and his pride vanishes to embarrassment.

“What? I'm brave,” says Button Mash.

“You're an idiot,” says Scootaloo.

“Quiet!” snaps Braeburn.

Apple Bloom flicks her eyes to Braeburn and sees him crouching with his crossbow aimed at the tree line and his finger resting against the trigger. His ears are perked and the tip of his tail flicks as he sweeps the area.

“Keep the weapons out, colts,” orders Braeburn. “We got company.”

He stops sweeping and aims his crossbow straight ahead while the soldiers form a protective circle. It becomes silent after that. There is no wind rustling the leaves, no bugs clicking their wings, no birds chirping. All Apple Bloom can really hear is her own heartbeat, and she holds on to Pipsqueak tight while Twist grips her arm, and she continues watching Braeburn. Waiting for the threat to come.

The seconds tick by. The breaths become jagged. The hearts beat louder. And right as Apple Bloom is about to suggest a false alarm, branches snap, and before she can even comprehend what is happening, a thick vine explodes out of the forest and whacks Braeburn in the chest. He sails overhead and narrowly misses the campfire when he lands and rolls to a stop, dazed. Then more vines break out of the forest and assault the soldiers with the ferocity of a rabid animal.

“Tentacles!” yells one of the soldiers.

“Oh, hell no!” says Scootaloo. “Somepony give me an axe!”

The soldiers roar, charge and slash at the vines, and Apple Bloom dives to the ground, trying to stay as low as she can as the vibrations of the earth shake her body. Her eyes dart to and fro, watching with terror and wonder as the thick vines rip apart the ground and strike down the screaming soldiers. The thick fog of dirt and grass clog her nose, and her cries for her friends are lost in the explosions, thumps and all around chaos of the battle.

Apple Bloom gasps and scampers backwards when one of the soldiers chops a vine, only to be cocooned by thick, sticky one and pulled into the forest. He screams for help and Braeburn dives after him, trying to grab his hand, but he, too, is grabbed. Only, it is just his arm that is wrapped in a vine and he is pulled into the forest as well, with the vine not caring about dragging him against the grass or that he is hitting logs and trees. It certainly does not care about his colorful vocabulary, either.

“Braeburn!” calls Apple Bloom, her hand outstretched.

“Run, Apple Bloom,” urges the Shadow Foaling.

Apple Bloom tries to find the Shadow Foaling, but all she can see is dust and the soldiers getting whisked away. Then a hand grabs her shoulder and she is turned to get an up close view of Redheart's terrified face.

“Apple Bloom, you need to move!” says Redheart.

She pulls Apple Bloom to her feet and helps her run. The two weave through the thrashing vines, ducking and dodging, and in some cases leaping over or crawling under the onslaught of the plants. Both are quickly covered in stains of grass, dirt and a strange, translucent liquid that puddles around severed vines. Direct contact leaves Apple Bloom's thin fur coat feeling sticky and tingly, but she and Redheart keep going, both shouting for the foalings and the pegasi.

“Apple Bloom! I'm right here!” says Twist.

Apple Bloom sees Twist waving at her frantically, but a vine wraps around her waist and she is pulled away, leaving her glasses behind and her scream to be carried off with her.

“Twist!” shouts Apple Bloom, her voice cracking and tears building.

Not too far from Twist, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle are slashing away with an axe and sword, but a particularly thick vine attacks them both from behind. They are knocked to the ground, thus losing the grip on their weapons, and they are wrapped tightly together their muzzles are pressing into each other.

“Oh, come on!” yells Sweetie Belle.

And then those two disappear into the forest, along with one of Braeburn's soldiers, and Apple Bloom's arm is tugged in the direction away from her captured friends.

“Don't stop running!” says Redheart.

“But my friends!” says Apple Bloom.

“Apple Bloom, I'm sorry! But they're gone!”

As soon as that sentence is finished, a vine whips Redheart in the gut, dropping her to the ground and leaving her coughing and gasping for air. Another vine attacks Apple Bloom, as well, and that puts everything in a blended mess of colors as her boy twirls in the air. When she lands flat on her back, her head is throbbing, her body aches and she tastes copper.

Apple Bloom winces and gingerly rolls to her side, trying to focus on anything, but with all the motion and her head swimming she barely has the capacity to sit on her hands and knees. She swallows the copper flavored spit and dumbly scans the area for Redheart, and when she sees the nurse, she is relieved to see her staggering towards her.

“Are you okay?” asks Redheart.

Apple Bloom nods, and so does Redheart, but when the nurse extends her hand to help the foaling, a thick vine wraps around Redheart's waist, and in a blink she is pulled away. Redheart's shriek fades quickly as she disappears into the trees, and Apple Bloom screams after her and tries to give chase, but her collar is grabbed and she is dragged back, narrowly avoiding a vine. The vine slams into the ground, kicking up dirt and grass, and when it lunges at Apple Bloom again it is sliced by Rainbow Dash, covering her in the translucent liquid.

Four more vines descend on the unbound, and she is able to dodge their stabs and whips with pivots, rolls and other forms of fancy footwork. Every move she makes is coupled with a slice of her sword that leaves the vines flopping and spraying the liquid like severed arteries.

Apple Bloom knows she has to run, but her legs won't move and her eyes won't break off from the sight of numerous vines being cut to pieces by the mare before her. It amazes her how agile the pegasus is, and it amazes her more that it is the same pegasus that got her tail handed to her in a hand basket a few times prior. It is for that reason that she can really do at this point is watch the Colored Witch decimate every vine that comes towards her. There is also the uncomfortable weight on her chest and her limbs feeling like stones, but amazement plays a big role in her lack of movement.

“What are you standing there for? Run!” says Rainbow Dash after cutting a vine that tries to grab her foot.

Rainbow Dash slashes a thick vine, causing it to squirm and recoil with the translucent liquid pouring out, and when another vine charges at her from it gets hacked by Flash. Around him, Pipsqueak, Button Mash and the remaining soldiers are slashing away at the every growing number of vines. Each passing second leads to more dismembered vines flopping on the ground and less soldiers to face the growing number of possessed plants, and Apple Bloom finds her chest tightening and her body feeling heavier. Even the other ponies in her company seem to moving with less coordination and are losing their grips on their weapons.

Apple Bloom gasps for air and drops to her knees, watching mist float from the spilled liquid with droopy eyes and a hazy vision.

“Run... Run... Run, Apple Bloom. Run,” says the Shadow Foaling.

“Get away from the trees!” says Rainbow Dash, her voice distant.

Apple Bloom looks towards the pegasus, still dazed with her hand clutching her chest and her maw trying to suck in air. Rainbow and Flash are still striking at the vines, but the other foalings have collapsed, and while the earth pony soldiers are putting up a good fight, they too are plucked away or dropping to the ground.

Then the Shadow Foaling skips through the growing fog, past the falling vines and soldiers, grinning with her hands behind her back and her tattered dress flowing like cloth in water.

“Run... Run... Run, Apple Bloom. Run,” chants the Shadow Foaling. She stops in front of Apple Bloom and leans close. “You can't find me if you aren't running.”

Apple Bloom tries to speak, but her tongue won't work. It feels swollen and her lungs feel soaked, and when she extends her hand to the Shadow Foaling, a sticky vine wraps around her wrist and another goes around her waist. Then everything blurs out as she is pulled away, and the farther she goes from the field, the thicker the forest and the heavier the darkness becomes, and now the only thing that is clear to her is the giggling of the Shadow Foaling.