I sat bolt upright, slamming my head against the underside of a hardwood desk before crashing back to the floor in a daze with bright starbursts clouding my vision. Through the blinding pain just introduced to my skull I breathed in ragged gasps, willing the pain away I could only stare up at the slightly marred surface of well-kept desk I’d just bludgeoned myself against. Not moving my head, fearing the inevitable pain that would follow I cast my eyes to the left and right.

No Pinkie.

No mountainous and ragged pony.

I decided that wherever I had gone to, I was now back in Ponyville. The floorboards were swept, the curtains tasteful and maintained. I concentrated for a moment as a glow suffused my horn and swept down into my head, the dull throbbing that I knew was a precursor to the inevitable pain ebbed away. I rose gingerly, the ache now reduced to a twinge and looked around, the room I was in had more furnishings and showed the signs of at least relatively recent use, but empty all the chairs and rugs leaving only a battered desk and it was a twin to the room I had been in only moments ago. I put a hoof forward, intending to make my way out to the main foyer again when a fresh stab of pain hit me in the chest. I gasped as I felt the fire of my wound shoot through my lungs and grate against my ribs. I glanced down and saw a thin white scar where Her knife and slid into me.

So it was real, I thought, She was real.

I shook my head, banishing the fears, terrors, and mad-eyed phantoms with knives from my mind, it wouldn’t help here. A noise interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the now.

“Miz Twa’light? Miz Twa’light?!” it was Big Macintosh, he was searching for me, I breathed a sigh of relief I hadn’t even realized I was holding in. He hadn’t gotten drawn into that place, he wasn’t stuck there either. That was a bit of good news at least.

“I’m in here Mac,” I called out to him from the room as I approached the door. I opened it to find Big Macintosh standing there with a worried expression creasing his face. It was probably the most emotion I’d ever seen him show since I met him that day before the Summer Sun Celebration.

“Ah, Miz Twa’light, ye gave me a right scare disappearin’ like tha’, where’d yew go off ta?” he sounded almost winded, I couldn’t help but smile, at least inwardly. Having somepony worry about me like that was kind of… nice. I just shook my head in response to his question though, I hadn’t the foggiest idea where I’d been either, not really.

“I don’t know,” I explained, “one moment I was standing there talking to you, the next you were gone I was standing in a room similar to the one we were both in but… older, more broken down and worn. I suppose it could’ve been some kind of translocation magic or maybe a dimensiona-…” I trailed off at the expression on his face.

“Heh, never mind,” I shrugged, a little embarrassedly, there were times I forgot that only Unicorns had any real understanding of magic, and even amongst Unicorns only a few were really erudite in the subject. Rarity was a perfect example, a talented unicorn and capable of the simple powers that are our birthright but mostly ignorant of the deeper workings of magic. I felt a little foalish and not a little inconsiderate but Big Macintosh just waved one of his giant hooves and nodded.

“Well, ah’m jus’ glad yew came out alrigh’ Miz Twa’light,” he said, sincerity in his eyes, I began to seriously doubt there was anything but sincerity in him though. I smiled a little at the thought.

“Just Twilight is fine,” I answered, “ok James?”

He coughed and averted his eyes, “Uhm alrigh’ Miz… uh, that is, uh… Twa’light.”

I giggled at his response, for such a large pony he was certainly awkward, I chose to find it endearing, the effort he was putting into not placing the polite ‘miss’ in front of my name like he usually did certainly was. Even after he had, in his own way, given me permission to call him by his first name I still usually just called him Mac, he seemed more comfortable with it and I had known him as Mac for over a year. Besides, not everyone knew his first name, calling him by it in public felt like it would’ve been rude, though I’m sure he wouldn’t have said anything.

I peered out the window, nudging the whole and untarnished curtains aside with a hoof, it was still snowing, albeit not as harshly as before, and the wind had died down somewhat.

“Let’s go, if the Apple farm is safe then we need to go pick up Spike and Sweetie Belle as soon as possible,” I said, authority slipping into my tone, Big Macintosh just nodded, phlegmatic as always. He tightened his work harness, wrapped the large muffler he had brought with him around his face and pushed the door open. I shivered at the icy winds that blew in, the town hall wasn’t really heated at this time but it was positively cozy compared to the outside, Macintosh stepped out, clearing the way before holding the door open for me. I smiled at the gentlecoltly gesture, it seemed so out of place given what was happening and yet it was charming all the same.

As Big Macintosh stepped out into the snow he started shoving forward, clearing a swathe to walk through, I had no doubt it would mostly gone on the way back, I reminded myself to thank Big Macintosh again for this, I doubt I’d have made much progress without him. Something caught my eye as we made our way out from under the relative cover the awning though.

“Mac, stop for a second, do you see that?” I asked, “There, in the snow.”

Mac stopped and peered down before nodding.

“Thos’re tracks, pony tracks, how d’yew reckon they ended up on top ‘o the like tha’ though?”

The question had entered my mind as well, hoof prints on the surface of the snow, too big for a foal. Logically there was no way those tracks could be there on the snow so clearly, but as much as it galled me I knew logic had very little meaning where that damned curse was concerned.

“I don’t know Mac, personally I don’t want to find ou-“ even as I said the words, I heard a voice on the wind, not just a voice, it was singing. “Mac do you…?”

He nodded, “Ah do hear it Miz Twa’light.”

I arched an eyebrow at him, he blinked before shrugging a silent apology to me. The song was more important now, it was wordless and tuneless, more like a melodic wail than an actual song, as it became louder though the wind started to pick up fiercely.

“MAC! DO YOU SEE IT? WHAT IS IT?” I yelled as the wind became a pandaemoniac gale, howling raucously, and yet by some perverse virtue the song remained constantly within our hearing. Macintosh moved right next to me, leaning down to speak where I could hear him. I was thankful for his resonant voice; he barely had to raise it above its usual timbre to make himself heard.

“Ah think ah do Twa’light, ah saw somepony a’movin’ out thar in tha snow, ah think it was a mare, she was pure white an’ had this sorta cloth whippin’ an’ dartin’ aroun’ her.” He said, trying to explain what he saw, “She had her head point’d up an’ her mouth open, ah can still hear tha’ song Twa’light an’ ah don’ like it one bit.”

I shook my head, somehow I knew that I needed to catch a glimpse of her, something in me was driving me forward I pushed through the snow towards the sound, Mac was calling after me, I poured out magic, creating a wedge of force in front of me to break the wind so I could move faster. It seemed like the closer I got the fiercer the storm became though. Despite the near whiteout conditions though, I made it, for a brief moment I saw her. Her mane and the gossamer cloth that draped across her was caught in a hurricane wind, whipping it around just as Mac had said. In the storm I couldn’t make out the color of her coat or mane, the snow obscured everything, her mane was a darker color though, I could only tell because it contrasted with the snow. What struck me was her face, she was walking forward but she wasn’t looking where she was going, she moved on heedless with her head bent skyward, wailing melodiously. Her eyes though, I remember clearly, they were deep black pits and tears like pitch streamed down her face, grief filled her voice and whatever impetus had driven me forwards now screamed at me to turn and run. As it did her face turned towards me, ever so slowly so that a single empty eye was regarding me, I felt my heart starting beating faster and terror hit me like a steel bar. The spell was broken, I turned and ran, and that was probably a mistake in retrospect because the song turned into a scream.

I could hear it, I could hear the pounding whisper of its hooves striking the top of the snow, leaving hoofprints but carrying no weight, I saw a red blur pass me, sheering through the snow at a speed I couldn’t believe Big Macintosh was keeping up with me, between my wedge and his raw muscles we ran. The scream was deafening and beneath it I could hear weeping and moaning amongst other more unpleasant sounds. I could hear the hissing of the black viscous liquid dripping from her eyes to the snow.

“MAC! WE AREN’T GOI-” I started to yell before losing all of my breath to the most powerful kick I’d ever experienced, I know I felt some ribs crack as I sailed through the air…

…and crashed directly through a window, moments later there was the sound of a splintering crack and another slamming of hooves. I looked up and saw Mac driving a table against the broken remains of the door he must’ve burst through. His face was straining with effort as blood coursed down it from a dozen tiny scrapes. Outside I heard her, the mare, bellowing and screaming, it sounded as though she were beating herself against whatever Big Macintosh had left of the entrance. I rose unsteadily, my left side was a network of fiery pain and numb throbbing and I was almost dry magically speaking but I poured a little magic into my side to heal some of the worst fractures before moving beside the great red workhorse and pressing my good shoulder against the table. For a moment I was almost thankful for the things that were done to me down in that castle, at least it taught me how to handle extreme pain. Pressing myself against the door was certainly that… my body screamed in protest but I kept pushing, unwilling to allow whatever that thing was inside. I felt the newly healed fractures start to buckle, I was almost blinded by pain, and all I could think of was to continue pushing.

Suddenly the pressure let up, I stopped straining and dropped to the floor, Big Macintosh leaned heavily against the makeshift barricade we had used to stop it from entering. We both took the moment to breathe, the wailing scream had dissipated, the howling winds were letting up, and I slowly keeled over and slumped onto my side. A mistake as it turned out as that was my wounded side, I hissed in pain but I simply lacked the energy to move. Macintosh leaned down and gingerly lifted me onto his back, careful not to jostle the fractured ribs of my side. He moved us towards a set of stairs and we ascended.

“Ah’m righ’ sorry ‘bout tha’ kick Miz Twa’light… Tha’ thar mare was ‘bout ta get on ta yew and I couldn’t see no other way ta keep yew out’o her gullet…” He kept talking as we moved down a familiar hallway towards the room at the end. “Ah didn’ know what else ta do so… so ah saw this here buildin’ an’… kick’d yew through the window… Ah’m awful sorry… Ah swar ah didn’t mean ta hurt yew.”

I shook my head and patted his shoulder with my good arm, “Don’t be Mac, it’s nothing, you saved my life, that’s worth a couple of ribs any day.”

He still looked devastated at his own actions; he’d probably never forgive himself for it. Mac nodded though, I knew he felt terrible, Mac wasn’t the type of pony to hurt anypony in anyway, and he was gentle to his bones. He had saved my life and risked his at the same time. He had no way of knowing that he could outrun that thing, or that it wouldn’t turn on him the instant I was out of its vision. We entered a bedroom, it looked disused, and he laid me carefully on the bed.

“Ah know this pro’ly ain’t yer favorite place but it was tha only place nearby… sorry again Twa’light… Ah guess this is tha las’ bed yew’d like ta be layin’ in,” he said as he settled himself on the floor and set to tearing up a brightly colored piece of sheet to dab at his wounds. I glanced around at the décor, bright pink wallpaper decorated with balloons, a desk covered in all manner of costume ornaments; fake mustaches, hypno-glasses, a red clown nose... I felt my heart sink to a pit in my stomach before burying my head in the pillow. It was the smell of Pinkie Pie, which made sense since I was lying in her bed.

“No… it’s ok Big Macintosh, this was the only place…” I said softly, trying to fight back my tears that had nothing to do with the pain in my side. Big Macintosh just nodded and went about cleaning his wounds, albeit a little clumsily.

“Let me do that, you’ll just shove the splinters in further, I read a book about how to get them out, it’s easy, just stay still,” I said as I leaned over and took the cloth from his hoof, slowly going about the task of cleaning up his face, picking out stray bits of wood and splinter from the cuts. Fortunately they were all superficial, it was still a calming exercise though, and something I could do to take my mind off of things. Like the idea of lying in the bed of my best friend and the worst murderer in the history of Ponyville. Like the fact that if I didn’t distract myself, I could still hear her, the mare in the snow, wailing her song into the storm.