Applejack sat opposite me, chewing on a small bundle of her straw-golden mane. Her being brought an almost unwelcome radiance to The Settle Inn, a dingy bistro on the outskirts of Ponyville, its gloom rivalled only by Black Bean, the dejected owner.

There was a noticeable colour gradient running through the establishment, so the place looked somewhat inviting from the outside, as did most things under the seemingly perpetual sunshine of Ponyville. Following the brightness gradient further into the bistro, darkness quickly advanced until you reached the tables at the back wall where lamp light was necessary to see further than your nose, as though sources of natural light were being consumed by the furnishings.

This was where I usually conducted business.

I saw no need for an office; the flow of work was never grand enough to necessitate a desk and chair. It had crossed my mind at one point that perhaps my small trickle of clients remained so because I insisted meeting here, or if not here, somewhere equally drab. Mad Star's place, for instance, was my temporary office whenever I was in Canterlot. One name change away from a carbon copy of The Settle Inn.

Still, I didn't need more work. I charged handsomely, but not unfairly, and it was enough to keep me living a modest lifestyle since I wound up here. Besides which, more work would raise my profile higher than I'd like, which would earn me the attention ponies I would rather keep a comfortable distance from - a distance of several light years, ideally – who might decide my activities are far too irritating to be allowed to continue.

I listened to her tale of woe, which I knew was garnished with a small serving of hyperbole. I was growing tired, not of her white lies, but of situations like hers, and the frequency with which they manifested. Hers was of a lost sibling, and as she told it, I heard echoes of my own life. I've known the pain of losing loved ones, in no small measure.

It was a Wednesday, I think, in the dead of winter. Snow was piled so high on branches barely able to sustain the mass growing upon them. I beat them out of the way while precariously traversing the icy path up to my one-bedroom flat. I had lost count of the miles I drove from my parents house, with whom I had spent the greater half of November. Suffice to say that it was cold and dark by the time I rolled up to my flat.

Eagerly had I awaited the prospect of a proper meal after eating the mess they dare call food served up in greasy little service stations by equally greasy staff. At that time, I had forgotten that in my absence, wind blows, sun shines, and meat goes off. I remembered this fact when I entered my flat, and the wall of eye-watering aroma invaded my nose.

I regarded the food with equal measures of disgust and intrigue when I opened the fridge. If evil had a smell, it was emanating from there. I promptly disposed of the bio-hazard masquerading as meat, as well as any food in proximity to it, in case the mere stench had somehow promoted bacterial growth.

I opted for a less solid comestible in the form of Jameson's, with ice, and slumped in front of the T.V. I cycled through the channels for few minutes before settling on The Phantom of the Opera. Shortly, I was mumbling my own rendition of the soundtrack, convinced that I was a better singer than Gerard Butler. Had I known these were to be my final moments on Earth, I doubt my evening would have gone any differently.

Maybe I would have watched Close Encounters of the Third Kind instead.

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa while the opera phantom serenaded me, because that was my last memory of home. Smashed, alone, and hungry. Something stirred me from mid-way through my REM cycle that night, something that stimulated my body to produce enough adrenaline to kill a small animal. Despite my normal inability to function as a human being in the first half-hour of waking, I was alert, my senses heightened. Immediately I recognised that I did not wake in the same place I fell asleep. I was in a damn forest.

I walked, because that was all there was to do, while I racked my brain for some small sliver of information that might explain what happened. Initially, and the theory I now subscribe to, I thought I had been kidnapped. I also thought I might have been the victim of some sadistic game show, and men with cameras and microphones would pop out at any second, chortling heartily at their deeply unfunny prank. Now I find this unlikely.

After all, it's been five months.

Hours passed me by, and I had made no progress. I began to think I would die in the realm I would later come to know as the Everfree. It's simultaneously the most natural and most unnatural landmark in Equestria. It oozes and heaves and sweats like a living thing. A great, greedy mass, gradually consuming more and more of the surrounding land in its insatiable hunger. The Everfree is not a forest, any more than I'm a pony.

In the dying light of the late afternoon, I happened upon a hut I had first mistaken as a hunting lodge. I briefly reflected on the good fortune I had not to get shot by trigger-happy aristocrats, despite how admittedly feral that stumbling through dense woods had made me appear. Slightly nervously, I approached the door, and noted it for it's strange proportions.

Stepping back a few paces, it then struck me the whole hut was cramped, hardly large enough to house two people, let alone their hunting equipment. It was like someone had pimped out a child's playhouse with a working fireplace and double glazing. Smoke rose and danced from the chimney pot before being ushered along by the increasingly chilling wind. Someone was inside, and I wanted to be inside too, even if it meant I hit my head on the crossbeams holding up the roof whenever I stood up. If I couldn't deal with that, the icy fingers of the wind and the monsters concealed in undergrowth would be more than willing to play host to me.

I reached for the crude knocker upon the door before something stayed my hand. Perhaps it was the faint but invasive odour of vegetable matter seeping from under the door. It was a smell more pungent where I stood in front of the door than it was anywhere else. Whatever the exact combination of scents and sights was, they made me feel uneasy, almost threatened. Suddenly, the invitation to take my chances in the forest looked rather appealing.

I was on the precipice of turning away and embarking upon another quest to find civilisation when I heard her voice for the first time. The owner of that voice was one I would come to see in unique light. She would become a friend, someone I enjoyed spending time with, the first I would turn to in my times of need. Her name, as I would learn, was Zecora.

“Do not be shy, wandering one.” the voice from beyond the door commanded. “Come inside, for light of day is almost done.”

The suddenness of her words after several hours of hearing nothing but the incessant chattering of birds and rustling of leaves served as the spark that ignited all the tension and fear that had been piling up inside of me since my arrival.

“Er, okay, miss.” I replied.

There was no response, so I willed myself to take the stranger up on her offer, despite protests from my common sense. I decided common sense would do me no good in uncommon circumstances, and had done my best to silence it.

Pushing the door open steadily, I had to duck at least two feet to get my figure through the frame. It was like a mad scientist had used a shrink-ray on the place. The interior was shrunk in much the same way – fireplace, crockery, chairs, tables, all common household furnishings, only much smaller. While entering, I picked up a vase containing what I presumed to be flowers local to the area and held it in my palm for a while, taking note of the weight and size of it.

Then, as the owner of the voice entered the room, I dropped it.

I put my hooves together, trying to interlock fingers that didn't exist when I used this form, while I pondered Applejack's story in silence. I had already decided whether or not I would help, and was using this time to mentally collect myself. It was hardly a request I could refuse, let alone charge for.

The ECMB is little more than a rabble of unicorns that specialise in a specific type of magic called anti-magic plus an unreasonably rigid approach to their methodology, hence their name, the Equestria Counter-Magic Bureau. To their credit, they are extremely good at what they do, which is use magic to solve crimes where magic had played a part. In crimes where magic was not used, they and the rest of the various organisations that exist to keep the law are about as effective as a chocolate fireguard. The papers were always full of unsolved crime stories.

This is what spurred me down the path I currently find myself on, for better or worse. I recall one night as I lay awake thinking I could probably do the ECMBs job better than they could do it themselves – without magic, to boot.

I hardly slept that night. Too many thoughts occupied my mind, each one like a separate voice ringing in my head. How they argued, those voices. Some encouraged me, some chastised me. Others simply didn't care.

It seems the encouraging voices won the debate, because the following morning, the fire of my convictions were stoked and burning hot in my chest. I opened for business as a P.I, the only one in Equestria as far as I know.

I still carry each voice with me, and each night I hear them, arguing still. Once or twice I thought about getting psychiatric therapy in an effort to shut them up, to allow me nights where I don't hear them bickering. Like every good male of a species, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, continually putting it off until the last possible second, until I realised it was in my interests to keep them around.

After a few weeks of being mentally berated by the voices, I wound up in hospital. I recall my visit to the burns unit was caused by judicious application of soldering iron to my skin.

Earlier in the week I took on a job from a divorced mare, Feather Dance. Mother of three, owner of a two bedroom flat, divorced to one Azure Bolt. A hat-trick that produced the (justifiably) most scorned mare I ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Azure Bolt had divorced her two months beforehand and had moved to Whinnyapolis. I could hardly blame the guy for running away, Ms. Dance radiated so much anger it would have overloaded a Geiger counter. I could blame him for not coughing up a bit of the alimony he owed since he left Ponyville.

Ms. Dance, as she told me, heard my name from a spa pony during idle chatter. I don't know how my name came up there, but I raised an eyebrow hearing that she could find the spare bits to have a hooficure when she could barely afford a mane trim for her increasingly feral-looking offspring. I knew better than to comment, however. I'm not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds me.

She told me he owed 1,500 bits, half of which would cover my fees. She offered to add a bonus of 100 bits if I broke some of his ribs in the process of collecting the alimony. I declined, knowing it would be up to Azure Bolt to decide if he wanted to make trouble for me.

I wasn't looking for trouble, but it found me anyway. When I explained to him I was there to collect alimony, he got mildly pissed. This elevated to severely pissed when I mentioned Feather Dance by name, and he attacked me with a soldering iron. He managed to plunge it into my skin three times before I found a monkey wrench on the worktable and hit him as hard as I could in the kneecap.

I delivered a second blow to his chest. I felt it depress as the wrench made contact with his sternum, causing him to fall to his knees. I raised the wrench for a third strike when he finally conceded.

He gave me the alimony, as well as another, smaller bag. Inside was fifty bits, and he politely requested I never come back.

After delivering the money to Feather Dance, and collecting my fee, I went straight to the hospital. The wounds had been cauterised as soon as they were made, but I figured there was no harm in making a visit anyway. I was told I had semi-severe second degree burns, deep partial thickness burns. The doctors offered me a skin graft, but I decided I didn't need the expense, not to mention I didn't like the idea of having skin from my ass relocated to my chest.

It was while the doctors were arguing about the best self-administered treatment that I realised the true nature of the debating voices in my head. They were helpful. Constantly they reminded me of what I was capable, of what was impossible, of what didn't matter. Like the contentious doctors, they argued until they reached an answer that was probably close to the truth, and suggested a course of action with that truth in mind.

Every night from that moment, I listened avidly to the voices.

I froze like a rabbit in headlights. Water from the dropped vase pooled around my feet and seeped into my already battered shoes. My face and hands were a mess of grazes and cuts from thorny vegetation, but I didn't feel it. My palms were clammy, but I didn't care. All things ceased to exist, all but two entities. The zebra and I.

We watched each other for a time, never breaking eye contact. I don't recall what I was thinking, perhaps I lacked the mental capacity to comprehend what was taking place. The zebra, though, it's eyes were intense, focused, but calm, like it was simultaneously reading and critiquing a book. This may not have been far from the truth.

I had not yet found the courage to speak, and so when the zebra was satisfied it had learned all about me from looking, it spoke.

"One such as you I did not expect. Your mind, your form does not reflect."

Her voice was melodic, hypnotic even. I tried to speak, but couldn't decide what I wanted to ask first. I just moved my mouth, making throaty, sighing noises in place of words.

"You're talking." I managed to say. "How are you talking."

"You seem stricken, confused, what's to be done? Perhaps too long you've been in the sun." she said. "Come, and sit, while I fix a brew. It shall fix what sent your head askew."

I couldn't place my emotions. Fear? Anxiety? Confusion? Delusion? A mixture of them all churned inside my head, compounding as a burning flare in my mind, rendering me catatonic. When I walked to the sofa, it was like I was watching myself, a silent observer to my own actions over which I had no control. From the doorway, I saw myself walk, and sit. Cardboard movements. My eyes, seemingly fixated upon one spot on the wall.

The zebra returned from a smaller room adjacent to the main room, a wooden bowl in it's teeth. It placed the bowl in front of me. The zebra said something in her unique fashion.

I watched myself take the bowl in both hands. I moved as though a cut-out figure had been given working muscles and ligaments, bringing the bowl to my mouth. I wanted to shout, scream even. I wanted, more than anything, to not be here at this precise moment. I felt the liquid against my lips. Viscous, bitter, dark as coal.

I swallowed.

I looked down. Dregs of whatever made up the brew lay glistening in the light of the cabin. Better, I thought. I felt good, like a post-coital cigarette.

"Your eyes have changed, this is good. Perhaps now, we may be understood." it said.

"Who are you?" I asked. I surprised myself with how mellow I sounded.

"My name is Zecora, this is my abode, into which you have unknowingly strode."

"Why are you talking like that?" I said. "In fact, why're you even talking at all? This doesn't make any sense."

"Zebra do not speak from where you come? Consider you're no longer where you come from."

"I guessed as much. I think I'm a long way from home." I sighed.

Zecora pursed her lips. "This land is Equestria, home to pony kind."

I shrugged. In a land where zebra can talk, it was probably best to take everything at face value.

"Ah, but, I have something to which you may be inclined."

The elation from feeling that I was making a difference was rather more ephemeral than I would have liked. It was a month after I had began my work and, after ponies began to understand what my work entailed, I had my business running slowly but profitably. Many of my first clients were mares suspecting unfaithfulness on their husbands part – it was easy work, but not the child's fantasy I had envisioned of subduing petty criminals before disappearing into the night.

I recall a promiscuous husband was the subject of my third ever client. His name was Ink Spot, and his wife suspected he was seeing another mare. This turned out to be the understatement of the year, as Mr. Spot was juggling no fewer than three other mares while still finding the time to service his own wife and walk his children home from school. I hardly blamed him, in fact, I envied his energy.

Other clients included suspicious bosses and their employees claiming time off work due to a physical ailment. I groaned internally at these jobs, as it invariably involved me stalking the ponies in question until they started picking up heavy stones in their back garden, but I couldn't refuse the work.

Some of my customers were so shifty you could hear the jangle of fake watches and jewellery as they shuffled about through dark corners and narrow alleyways – they were usually asking for something not-so-legal, which I wasn't above rejecting, given the inefficacy of the police in such matters. The last type of client usually got me mixed up in some larger game that I was not overly fond of being included in; a game that involved unsolved crimes, murders, and situations that smelt like off-milk.

The latest misdoings that had my attention, and the attention of the ECMB, were missing ponies cases. Though I hated to admit it, these type of cases are better left to the police, who have the resources to conduct large searches. But my clients interests are my own, and since I was particularly fond of Lyra Heartstrings, I agreed to track down her brother, from whom she hadn't heard from since he promised to come visit her five days ago. She gave me his home address and a a note I was to give him should I find him.

It didn't take long for me to discover his fate.

I stared up at the apartment complex, an imposing building on the outskirts of Seaddle. It was one of many such buildings that stood together in a great concrete line, visible from the train I rode into Seaddle station. A quick flash of my ECMB card to the landmare gained me entry to the complex in seconds. ECMB agents had become feared individuals around these parts after they hit the headquarters of a notorious crime ring operating out of a building not far from where I stood.

I came up on the door to Reed Hearstring's flat after a few minutes of climbing stairs. I pressed one ear against it, only hearing my quiet breaths amidst the silence.

“Mr. Heartstrings?” I said. There was no reply.

“Reed? My name is Anon, I'm a private investigator. Are you there?”

I waited a few moments for a reply. When none came, one quick buck to the door was enough to break in. The wood splintered and showered the corridor.

I let the door swing on its hinges while I stood outside, waiting for the sound of panicked hoof-fall from within. When all was quiet, I made a cautious entry.

He lived in a three room flat. Bathroom, bedroom, living area combined with an open-plan kitchen. It was a neat little flat that I wouldn't mind owning myself. Upon the kitchen counter-top stood a percolator of coffee, steam rising from the spout. I was halfway done processing the implications of a fresh pot of coffee when an unfamiliar male voice spoke from behind me.

“Don't make a move, don't make a damned move. Don't speak either.” he said. I heard the faint hum of a charging spell, and did as I was told.

“Why can't you freaks leave me alone? I got nothing now. Nothing! You took it all from me.” he said. His voice was unsteady, and he sounded tired, barely able to manage the spell he was a hair's breadth from using. I turned my head slightly, and slowly.

“I told you not to move! You want to speak?” he said. I nodded. “That's a new trick. I figured the lot of you were a bunch of mute fucks.”

“I'm not who you think I am.” I said. “My name is Anon, I'm an investigator. Lyra hired me to find you.”

“My sister sent you?” he said. I couldn't tell if he was surprised or not.

“That's right.” I said. “There's a letter from her in my left coat pocket. You gonna let me get it without blasting my head off?”

“Turn around first, let me see your hooves.” he said, and I did. He had the same mint coat as Lyra, and similar streaks of white in his unkempt mane. I guessed he'd been awake for at least twenty-four hours, judging from his bagged, twitching eyes.

I showed him my hooves. Seemingly satisfied, he motioned for me to take out the note.

“Drop it in front of you, then walk back to the far wall.” he said. Like a good dog, I obeyed.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Shut up.”

He picked the letter from the ground and opened it. From what I could see, there weren't many words on the note, and a few of them looked like numbers. He reread it several times before focusing on me again.

“Looks like you were telling the truth.” he said, and the glow around his horn faded. He seemed as relieved to have ceased the spell as he was knowing I wasn't here to hurt him. He folded the note and slid it into his coat pocket.

“Expecting someone else?” I asked.

“It's none of your business.” he replied. “I can handle myself.”

“That's what everyone says. What is it then? Loan shark?”

“Like I said, it's none of your business.” he restated. I thought aggravating him further might be unhealthy for both of us, but I kept going.

“They'll find out, you know, that you have a sister. Maybe you can protect yourself, but you're gonna drag Lyra into this sooner or later.” I said. Something in his eyes changed. The weariness that existed before had been stripped, and his mouth contorted into a snarl I didn't believe ponies could manage. He approached me, and in an instant, I was on the floor, tenderly cradling my jaw.

“Don't ever threaten my sister.” he said, rubbing his hoof.

“It won't be me you gotta worry about.” I said, rising to my hooves. “What should I tell your sister then? That you're fearing for your life? That there are ponies out for your blood?”

He kept his glare for a few more seconds before the fury left him. He walked around to the kitchen area, picked up a pen and a notepad, and began writing.

“Give her this.” he said, passing the note to me. It was folded, but the ink had bled through the paper a little. It was much shorter than Lyra's note. I didn't much like being reduced to a glorified delivery colt, but it was inconsequential. I had found Reed Heartstrings.

“Why do you need me to do this? There is such a thing as a mail service.”

“Too dangerous.” he said, shaking his head. “They'd intercept it, and Ly-”

He never did finish that sentence. Perhaps he tried to, after his frontal lobe was violently removed from his skull and repurposed as an interesting new wall paint. I had never hit the deck quite so quickly in my life. Parts of grey matter littered my coat and mane.

I dared a glance upwards and saw the single window had been blown in, glass covering Reed's spasming body. Half his head was missing, some of it on me. I tasted bile in my mouth and forced myself to swallow.

I waited for half a minute before I risked getting up. I shook off the fragments of skull and singed hair and pressed myself up against the outside wall, next to the broken window. I could hear dogs barking some twenty feet below me, and the wind gushing through the window.

I exposed my head for a brief moment so that whoever was outside could see me before pulling back. Nobody attempted to blow my head off, so I looked out again. There was nobody in the streets below, nobody on the rooftops. It was as though I were the only living thing for miles.

I took Lyra's letter from Reed's still corpse and left via the fire escape on the other side of the building. I walked a convoluted route through Seaddle, terrified that I might share Reed's fate if I let my guard down for even a second. The comfort of safety returned to me when I finally boarded the train back to Ponyville. I read Lyra's letter:

Reed,

I hope this note finds you well. You should already have met Anonymous, the one who gave you this. I hired him to find you after I heard nothing from you following your last letter. I know you'll say I'm mothering you, and it's not my business, but if there's a problem, I'll help you if you let me.

Now if you're in some kind of trouble, I don't know how much use I can be, but if you're ever going to accept anyone's help, it should be Anonymous's. He's done a lot for a lot of ponies, I'm sure he can help you too. His address is 38A Tia St., Ponyville.

I love you brother, stay safe.

Lyra.

I refolded the letter and stared out of the window, watching the passing scenery. I was bad at delivering bad news, so bad that I thought about finding a new line of work where I could bear good news. How do you tell a mare that the brother she loves and cherishes had half his head taken off? I didn't know, and I even thought briefly about lying to Lyra, telling her I hadn't been able to locate Reed. I stopped thinking about it, and read Reed's note.

Lyra,

I got your letter. Things aren't going so well. We can't see each other for a while. Anonymous can't help. Remember that I love you, always.

Reed.

I refolded the note. All I remember is feeling that somehow I'd dodged a bullet with this job.

Lyra had asked me to find her brother, and I had. When I next met with Lyra, she didn't feel like doing much discussing. For her sake, I gave a modified version of the story, saying the spell struck him in the chest and he died instantly.

I gave her Reed's note. She held it in her hooves for a moment, turning it, fiddling with it, deciding whether or not to read it. She thanked me, before promising the payment of my fee. I left the Settle Inn, sparing a glance at Lyra through the window. Her head was buried in her hooves on the table, her shoulders quivering. The note, I noticed, was unread.

That was it for Mr. Heartstring's case. His death made regional news once or twice, which was reported as collateral damage during a gang war, or possibly aggravated burglary. They made no mention of a source. Last I heard, the investigation was still ongoing, but quickly progressing nowhere.

A couple of weeks later, Applejack approached me. I wouldn't have said it to her face, but a situation like hers blows away the cobwebs that develop in my mind when I've been doing more menial work for clients. A cold shower, in a manner of speaking; long overdue. This was the first time someone I cared about had come to me asking for my services, and the first time someone I cared about had gone missing.

“You know I could never say 'no' AJ, after all you've done for me.” I said, uncrossing my imaginary fingers.

Applejack had offered me some crude lodging in Ponyville when I first arrived. For a ten bits per week, she gave me a bed on the barn mezzanine plus breakfast with her family every morning. She even paid for an advert in the local paper for me when I mentioned I was setting up my own business. If not for her, I'd probably be foraging for nuts and berries in the Everfree right now.

She looked down at her empty coffee cup, flicking her eyes up at me every so often, possibly internally debating whether or not to say what she was about to say.

“I heard about Lyra and her brother, and its just...” she paused. “It makes me think the worst things are gonna happen.”

“Don't talk like that AJ.” I said, reaching my hooves over the table to take hers. She gave a slight smile at the gesture and met my eyes. “Let me do the worrying, after all, it's my job right?”.

“Ah wish ah could.”

My last statement wasn't strictly true, worrying is not my job. My job is getting things done, the polar opposite of worrying, but I had to say something. I brought my hooves back and leaned on them, bringing myself closer to Applejack.

“It's normal to feel like that.” I said. “Honestly, I'd be more worried if you said you were doing fine.”

“Ah bet all this is just so routine fer ya.” she said, with a hint of venom. “How'd ya do it? How do ya take it all in yer stride? It's like ya can turn yer emotions on and off like a lightbulb, so no matter what ya see, it don't affect you none.”

I thought for a bit. Maybe what she referred to is a uniquely human quality. I leaned back into my chair, producing a loud creak that prompted a glance from Black Bean. I was a little offended that Applejack presumed me to be at peace with my line of work. I'm the arbiter of bad news, and not the kind with a silver lining. All the time I witness the sinister side of Equestria, and the acts of those that dwell within it.

The reason I can continue doing what I do, is that I stand in a unique position. I'm not a part of this world, but forced to live in it. As a result, I have the luxury of emotional detachment, which suits my work better than a tailor.

That luxury has disappeared now. Applejack is more than a client to me. She's my most fierce, and perhaps, my only friend in this world. Certainly I couldn't name others who mattered equally or more to me than her. Not even Zecora, to whom I also owe a great deal.

“It takes a certain mindset.” I finally said. “I don't know if I was born with it, or I accidentally cultivated it, but it's there.”

Applejack squinted at me for a few seconds. I felt nervous.

She shook her head. “Y'know, sometimes ah wonder if ah know ya at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah mean, ah've known yer fer, what, five months? And fer one a' those months, we saw each other every day. Ah thought ah knew yer inside and out.”

I knew what was coming, and I was powerless to stop it.

“Tell me Anon, durin' all that time, were you ever once honest about who ya were?”

“I never lied to you AJ. You know that.”

“That ain't answerin' the question and ya know it. Please Anon, who were ya before we met?”

I let the question hang for a moment.

“We all have our secrets. This one is mine.” I said, in a finalist tone that made it clear I wouldn't be answering any more questions on the subject. Applejack seemed to pick up on it, and sighed, from both disappointment and fatigue. Sorry, AJ. You're my best friend. I owe you so much, but I don't owe you the story of my past, I thought.

I rapped on the table in an effort to dispel the tension.

“I guess Ponyville PD is on this?” I asked.

Applejack brought her hooves together in her lap and shifted her weight around. I made an internal reminder to play poker with her more often, since her tells were about as obvious as a clown fight.

“Ah filed a missin' pony report with them.” she sighed. “Ah know y'all think they're a buncha morons, but they got eyes in their heads. That's all they need ta help find Applebloom.”

I prevented myself from sighing as my empathy kicked in again. It's too much to ask of Applejack to not talk to the police just so I don't have to work around them. Besides, they were mostly useless, probably couldn't find the ground if they fell over. They'd want my help.

“That's true.” I said.

I took out a notebook and stuffed a fountain pen in my mouth. I still can't get over the indignity of the accepted writing method, preferring whenever I can to use my hands, even to the point of accepting the brief pain associated with transforming. Due to my lack of practice, my mouthwriting is atrocious, but improving.

“Question time?” she asked, knowing she was right. I've done minor investigative work for her in the past, just silly things like looking for Big Mac when he's been in town too long, so she knows my 'interview' format, as it were.

“Yeah.” I said. “Start from the last time you saw Applebloom. Things like what she was wearing, what she said, who she was with.”

“Well, it were yesterday, in the afternoon. Could have been four or five. Ah was out in the field as usual, buckin' apples, towing the cart, you know how it is. Applebloom came up to me askin' where her helmet was. Ah told her it were probably in her room where she left it. She thanked me and sped off, to her room ah guess. Ah could see Scootaloo leaning on the fence next to the barn. She were wearin' a helmet also. Ah didn't think nothin' of it, so ah just went back to buckin'. That was the last time ah saw her.'

“Do you know where they were going?”

“Ah didn't, at the time. When Scootaloo got back about three hours later, she said they went to Zecora's hut. They said they got lost in the Everfree on the way, and when they went ta turn back...” Applejack stumbled on the last word, trying to dam the tears welling at a resurfacing unpleasant memory.

“Take your time.”

She coughed loudly, and then quietly, attempting to recollect herself. She swiped the napkin under my cup and dabbed around her freckled cheeks, eyes and forehead.

“...she wasn't there no more. Gone, Scootaloo said. Didn't know how long she'd been gone after she started back here.”

I took a moment to consider the situation. Frankly, those fillies got what they deserved by wandering around in the Everfree so close to twilight, but I quickly silenced the part of my mind responsible for that thought. Ponies do go missing in that place, though. It's like the Everfree actively tries to corrupt your senses and rob you of your composure, leading you deeper in, inexorably, to your demise.

“So, Scootaloo was with Applebloom when she went missing?” I asked. She nodded. “Did they ever make it to Zecora's?”

“Scootaloo said they turned tail before they even came close.”

“And you told the police this?” I asked. She nodded again. “Did they send out a search party already?”

“Not yet. Said they needed ter bring in more police officers from surroundin' towns if they were gonna search the Everfree. They set off at nine.”

I glanced at my watch. It was eight-thirty.

“So I'm gonna be part of this search party?”

“Yeah. You'll come with Twi, Dashie and me.”

A pair of touristy-looking ponies with more money than sense took seats on the table next to ours. The screeching of the chair legs on the floor made me wince, as did their inane babbling when they finally got comfortable. I motioned that Applejack and I should probably leave now, lest we be forced to share our delicate conversation with the newcomers.

I produced a couple of bits and placed them on the counter in front of Black Bean, who seemed appeased by the undeserved tribute. I thought briefly about leaving an anonymous note on the bar table suggesting he stop poisoning his customers with WD-40 masquerading as coffee, before remembering that he knows my terrible mouthwriting. I thought better of it.

Together, we stood outside for a brief period. The wind had picked up since we had entered the Settle Inn, making Applejack's mane whip gently against the window. I took a deep breath and cast my eyes skyward. I thought I could see Applebloom's profile reflected in the clouds. Applejack turned to me, expecting me to deliver a nugget of wisdom.

“I'm sorry, about earlier. My life before I met you was...” I searched for the right word. “Unstable. That's as much as I can say about it.”

Applejack bowed her head slightly and exhaled.

“No Anon, ah'm sorry. It's got nothin' to do with me. I shouldn'tve asked.” she said. “Still friends?”

“Still friends.” I said. We shared a short hug. “So, are we gonna meet with Twi and co. now?”

“Yeah, they're waitin' in the centre a' town.”

“Are they up to speed?”

“Ah told them everythin' late last night. Bless those two, they started straight into the Everfree not five minutes after ah told 'em. Didn't matter none in the end, could only search for an hour 'fore the sun set. We never did reach Zecora's hut, and there were no sign a' Applebloom.”

“Did you do anything after getting back?”

“Tried to sleep, couldn't sleep. Partly because ah was so worried, partly because it didn't seem right. Twi and Dashie agreed that we should search again come mornin'.”

Assuming there's anything left to find, I thought.

My attention was drawn to the large number of cupboards, drawers and cages pushed to the edges of the room. She began tearing through them, with little care, seemingly a single goal in mind. She held various tidbits I didn't recognise in her hoof, examining them, before unceremoniously throwing them aside.

She held another small trinket in her hoof, examining it in the same way as the others. It was small and metallic, simply decorated. She closed the drawer it had been in and walked over to me, not bothering to step around the mess she created.

"This land's inhabitants are kind and content, but will be easily frightened by the form you present." she said. "Take this relic, it will change your form, to their image you will conform."

"You're saying, if I use this, I'll look like you?" I asked. She nodded. "Can I ever change back?"

She nodded again. "All you like, no need to abstain. Be warned, however, its use will cause terrible pain."

We walked back to the town square without saying another word to one another. I've talked to Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash only on two occasions, and I would have liked to keep it that way.

It's not often I meet ponies that are stronger disaster magnets than I, and just as like-poles of magnets repel, we've naturally kept distance from each other since the day I rolled into Ponyville. Now from across the paved slabs, I could see them standing, conversing. Their voices bounced through the air with distinguishable cheer, but their eyes betrayed the unrest they had experienced the night before.

Applejack waved as we came within conversation distance from each other. As I came to a stop, Twilight and Rainbow Dash regarded me with a faint air of discomfort, probably because they know my preferred dwellings and the kind of company I usually keep. I deigned not to comment on it.

“Anon.” Dashie said, offering a slight nod. “It's been a while. Up to much?”

“Just the usual.” I replied. “Princess Twilight. I heard you subdued a dragon the other day. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Twilight said. She seemed happy that I mentioned her title.

They both knew, to some extent at least, the nature of what I did. They were never keen on hearing the details, nor was I to disclose them, but they knew Applejack trusted me enough to come asking for my help. That alone was enough for them to extend their own trust.

Our search party was composed of an alicorn, a pegasus, an earth pony, and a human disguised as an earth pony. With such a small search force, we'd have trouble finding snowflakes in winter, even with the help of police pulled in from here to Appleloosa. Fortunately, I already knew where to begin, and I was anxious to start.

“Not much of a search party.” I said. “More of a search get-together.”

“The police are helping too, you know.” Twilight said. “They're going to form a half-mile long line and sweep the forest.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Thirty or so.” Twilight said. I sighed, it wasn't enough. She seemed to know it too.

“Well, lets go.” I said, starting towards the forest. “Daylight's burning, as they say.”

“Wait, hang on.” Applejack said. “We ain't supposed ta start 'till nine, police said so. We're meant to be part a' the search line.”

“They won't find anything, it'll be a miracle if they do. Plus, a formation like that takes hours to advance just a few miles.”

They looked at me like I'd just punched their sainted mothers.

“It's the best chance we have at finding Applebloom!” Dashie said. The others concurred.

“No, Dashie, it isn't.” I said. “I have a better idea: we go straight to Zecora's, fast as possible. She knows the forest, she'll be more helpful than the police. Might even turn out that Applebloom stayed the night there.”

They looked ready to object until I finished talking. They looked at each other. Dashie and Twilight shrugged, looking at Applejack. It was only fair the final decision lay with her.

“Alright, I get yer.” Applejack said. “Lead the way.”

With that, we all donned our saddlebags and started the walk out of town.

It was midday by the time we found the trail that leads to Zecora's hut. The edges of the path had blurred into the general chaos of the forest floor, making it difficult to tell there was even a path at all. Applebloom wouldn't ever have found it in the night, but I kept that detail to myself. Applejack didn't need more stress.

The trail, as I recall, extends for about 150 meters, with a distinctly gnarled tree where the trunk has grown at an angle almost perpendicular to the ground about halfway down. It terminates in an imposing wall of undergrowth, beyond which one would find Zecora's home. A keen observer would be able to see plumes of smoke, originating from Zecora's fireplace, winding around the leaves that form the forest canopy.

I saw no smoke as we passed the near-horizontal tree, though I wasn't looking at the sky. I, along with everyone else, was looking for any sign that Applebloom might have come this way.

Before long, we reached the thickets and brambles denoting our destination was no more than 10 meters away. The normally animated forest was quiet, until Twilight blew a hole in the greenery, and birds erupted from the trees. I moved through the hole first and waited for everyone else to clamber through the same passage.

“That's strange.” I said, knowing that strange usually meant bad. My gut wrenched and I felt my carotid artery produce few heavy pulses.

“What's strange?” asked Twilight, who came through the hole straight after me.

“There's no smoke coming from the chimney.” I said, with an involuntary dip in volume.

I paced towards the cabin, trying my best to avoid sticks and leaves. I made my way on to the wooden porch and tried to glimpse inside through the window, but the curtains were drawn.

“Maybe she's out?” said Twilight.

“And left the door unlocked?' I asked, pointing to the large gap between the door and the doorframe.

“Why would she ever need to lock the door? I doubt anyone would come this far to burgle her house.”

“Maybe.” I said. “Take Dashie, go around to the back door. When you hear me kick the door in, you do the same.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Twilight relented, motioning for Dashie to follow her. I gestured for Applejack to come closer.

“What's happening?” she asked. I put drew my hoof across my mouth like a zipper. I counted to three in my head.

One

Two

Three

I nearly knocked the door off its hinges before I burst into the cabin. While I was checking the corners, Applejack came in from behind me. Twilight and Dashie similarly kicked in the back door. Shortly, the four of us met in the main room. Apart from the creaking of the floorboards as we shifted our weight around and our semi-laboured breaths, the cabin was silent.

After a few seconds of exchanging clueless glances, Dashie grunted loudly and kicked the sofa.

“What the hell was all that for!? You damn near gave me a heart attack!” Dashie said.

“Sorry, Dashie, I couldn't be sure.” I said.

“Sure of what?”

“That nobody was in here.” Twilight said. I stifled a smile at the fact that Twilight understood my worries. I felt proud, like how a teacher might be proud of a student that solved a hard maths problem.

“I don't understand, where's Zecora?” Dashie asked.

The place had been ransacked, to the point where it was almost unidentifiable as Zecora's hut. There were ashes in the fireplace, only slightly warm as I pushed my hoof into the centre of the pile. Upon the table two mugs, smashed, much like the rest of the room.

Underneath the table, I spied something that didn't belong there.

“Zecora's gone.” I said.

“You know what I mean. Where is she now?”

“Fucked if I know. Could be she was out foraging or something when this happened. If that's the case, could be hours before she gets back.”

“And what in tartarus happened here then?” Twilight asked.

“Seems like someone was looking for something.” I said.

“Who?”

“I don't know. I wonder if they found it though.”

I noticed Applejack pacing around the cabin, making very deliberate steps and wearing a look of sorrow that might turn to despair at any moment. I decided to share what I found under the table with her, as we had come to look for Applebloom, not indulge in some guesswork about who did this to Zecora's cabin.

“Applejack?” I said, waiting for her to acknowledge me. “She was here. This is her bow, right?”

I dragged the length of pink material out from under the table. Bringing my nose down to the floor, I could smell Applebloom's earthy scent upon it, crimson hairs clinging rebelliously to the fabric as a foal clings to its mother.

Applejack caught a single glimpse of the bow and turned away, pulling her hat down over her eyes. Her shoulders rose and fell in time with her whimpers, heralding the onset of sobbing. Twilight and Dashie quickly went to comfort her. I succeeded in containing my own grief, partly because I was used to situations like these, but mostly because I knew that by no means were we at a dead end.

The events of last night began to unravel in my head, like a celestial spinster was aiding my thought processes. Applebloom was here. Zecora had prepared two cups of tea for herself and Applebloom. Some time later in the night, someone came. Zecora heard them outside, and knew she only had a few seconds. She knew I'd come to visit sometime during the month, and left clues.

Two mugs, one for her, one for Applebloom.

The bow, she'd never take it off. The fact it was here and not on her head was significant. Why was it there? Why? Think, Anon, think. What happened here?

I instructed us to form two groups of two. Twilight and Rainbow Dash in one group, Applejack and I in the other. The unicorn and pegasus would scout the surrounding area for any piece of information that would give us a lead, however tenuous. Applejack and I scoured the interior of the hut in a hunt for similar information.

After twenty minutes of searching, I stepped outside for some air, hoping that when I went back to it, I'd be looking at the place with a new pair of eyes. The clouds blocking the majority of the sunlight had dispersed now, allowing light to pierce the forest canopy. Dust danced and spun in its rays as the wind meandered around the trees and bushes.

We'd been searching the hut for only a few minutes before the most obvious observation struck me. There were a lot of muddy hoofmarks on the floor, more than two ponies could produce even if they danced a salsa. From the number of them, I guessed there had been no fewer than four, possibly five ponies here at one point. They were also still quite moist, so they had been made very recently.

Zecora had unexpected visitors, that much is for sure. They were probably also unwelcome. The hoofmarks are erratic in intensity and direction, did a fight occur? Zecora must have been here then, no way she's out foraging. The visitors overpowered her, one was probably a unicorn. With Zecora subdued and Applebloom of no danger, they ransacked the place.

What were they looking for? You don't come out this far without a big incentive. Money? Zecora trades rather than buys or sells, there's no money here. Besides, there are easier houses to burgle. Why pick this one? There was something here they knew Zecora was in possession of, something they wanted badly enough to traverse the Everfree at night for. Something like my transformation device? Maybe. I could see a pony wanting that.

Did they find what they wanted? Would they have done anything differently if they had or hadn't? What became of Zecora and Applebloom in either outcome?

Applejack emerging from the cabin broke my train of thought. She stood beside me, looking at me briefly before lazily surveying the forest. Though she was by no means a stranger to hard work, her bagged eyes told of her emotional fatigue.

“Y'know how we'd used to sit on the fence around the field and watch the town?” she asked.

I did remember. During lunch breaks we'd teeter on the fence to the orchards, looking towards the town.

“I'd always complain my back hurt.” I replied.

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, but ya really hammed it up. Could've served it to a gryphon.”

“Feeling nostalgic yet?”

She looked skyward. “I wanna go back to that time.”

“I thought you always said I was a bad worker. You'd have to take me back on.” I said. “Damn, that'd mean I'd have to move back into your barn as well.”

“Ah, you've been spoiled by town life, you'd move out again in no time.” she laughed. Good laugh, came from the diaphragm. Not like Rarity's insipid tittering.

I knew I'd probably never work for Applejack ever again. Our lives, my life in particular, had changed irreversibly, and I didn't want the Apples, the few souls I actually cared about in this world, to be associated with my work.

I was smirking a little following our dialogue. It wasn't often that Applejack and I could spare the time to make conversation with one another. I always loved how easy it was to talk with her, one of the many good things I forfeited when I left Sweet Apple Acres.

My smirk disappeared quickly. A patch of earth now illuminated by the cones of light penetrating the canopy had caught my attention. It was loose earth, and I immediately feared the worst.

“Anon?” said Applejack. “What's wrong?”

I pointed to where the soil had been disturbed. Her breaths became shorter and more frequent as her pupils ever so slightly dilated. The patch of earth in question was about ten meters from the back door, and about two meters inside of the tree line. I trotted quickly towards the loose soil, which spanned an area of about one and a half square meters.

I formed a crude shovel with my hooves, attacking the ground with a ferocity I can't explain even now. It didn't matter how hard or fast I dug, because it wouldn't change what I found down there. Soon, my hooves made contact with something other than dirt, rock or root. I cocked my head to look at Applejack. She looked ready cry. I felt the same.

Reaching into the ground with both hooves, I grabbed an arm and strained to pull it above ground. As it surfaced, a pang of guilt followed the relief I initially felt. The arm was white and black.

After we regrouped, I showed to Rainbow Dash and Twilight the body in the ground. They didn't say, but I suspected they too were relieved it was Zecora that suffered this fate rather than Applebloom. The four of us scoured the area surrounding Zecora, looking for, and hoping we wouldn't find, a second burial. We didn't, which gave us hope, but not much.

Jesus fucking Christ. They killed Zecora. Why? What could have justifed that act? God, they didn't even bury her properly. These fucking amateurs. They left so much physical evidence that even the police could find them if they pooled their brain cells. Hoofmarks, a dead body, hairs. They should count themselves lucky that there's no such thing as DNA profiling in Equestria.

Christ, what about Applebloom? Why didn't they put her in the same grave? There's only one grave. Maybe they kidnapped her? For what reason?

Amateurs. Inexperienced. Not used to this kind of thing. They had the stomach to kill Zecora, but a foal? I wouldn't kill a foal, I bet they wouldn't either. Yes, they couldn't kill Applebloom, their consciences wouldn't allow it. It's a safe bet they kidnapped her. Where did they go afterwards? I need more time.

Twilight, who had left 'i'm-here-for-AJ' duty to Rainbow Dash for the time being, walked over to me. She must have seen my eyes glazed over, looking intently at one spot on the ground but not registering the visual information.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. I blinked once and lifted my eyes to see her mirroring my gaze. I gave her a blank look that meant I only half heard. “You had a serious face on, I was asking what you thought.”

“It was my thinking face. I ought to hang a 'do not disturb' sign around my neck.”

“Well you're disturbed now. C'mon, you're meant to be good at these things, what's on your mind?”

“I'm trying to get the order of things clear in my head.” I replied. “I think Applebloom was foalnapped, or she'd would have been buried with Zecora. The killers, after burying Zecora, probably headed to the nearest town.”

“Ponyville.”

“Exactly.”

“They won't stay there for long.”

“No.”

“Where will they go?”

I didn't know. “Who knows. Anywhere with a train station, probably. I'd guess that's how they're planning to leave, if they haven't already.”

“And they could be anyone.”

“No, think about it. It'll be obvious who they are. It'll be two or three stallions, medium build, judging by the number and size of the hoofprints. One or more will be unicorns, for sure. One or more have brown coats.

“How'd you know their coats are brown?”

“I found brown hairs in the hut, might look chestnut in the light. Last I checked, Applebloom had a yellow coat, and Zecora had black and white. If they're really stupid, they'll still be caked in mud too.”

“So they'll be easy to find?”

“With time, yes.” I said. “Too bad we don't have much of it.”

We were sitting on a nearby felled tree, watching the hut as we spoke. Twilight flinched and faced me.

“What? Why the time limit?” she asked. I sighed, bowing my head slightly. I didn't have the courage to look at her face when I explained.

“The odds you can find someone who's been foalnapped decreases substantially after a period of four days. After then, I doubt the even the ECMB, with all their resources could find her. Oh, fuck me, I just made Applebloom a statistic.” I rubbed my eyes, they felt sore. “Fuck.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself. Celestia knows the situation is hard enough.” she said.

I was anxious to divert the subject. “How's AJ doing?”

“Not so great.” Twilight said. We both directed our attention towards Applejack. She and Dashie were lying against the side of the hut, talking. We couldn't hear what they were saying.

“She's tough. She'll be okay. For now, at least.” I said. “She could do with some good news.”

“Couldn't we all?”

“Well, this massive breadcrumb trail is pretty good for us.”

“What?”

“You never read Hansel and Gretal?” I said, before my gut twisted for the second time in less than ten minutes.

This is a speed-bump I sometimes run into, confusing things that exist on Earth with things that don't in Equestria. Normally this is never a problem, but in the wrong context, it could reveal me. In this context, there wasn't a worse pony to which I could have accidentally mentioned Hansel and Gretal.

“No.” she said. “You mean a trail of clues?”

My shoulders, that I had unconsciously tensed after my mistake, gradually relaxed and a feeling of relief washed over me like a cool breeze. I nodded, and Twilight seemed to understand.

“Yeah.” I said. “I'll be visiting the train station when I get back, see if I can't find a station manifest or an eyewitness who might've seen them.”

“Oh good grief. I'm gonna have to deal with the press and police when I get back.” she said. “Guess that leaves it to you, Dashie and AJ.”

“No, the police are gonna want to talk with Dashie and AJ. It'll just be me.”

“They're gonna want to talk to you as well.”

“I can't afford to waste time answering inane questions. We have to find her as soon as possible. The police can take my statement after I've found her. Hopefully the gibbering retards won't drool on the pad while they write.”

Twilight made a short, sighing laugh. “You know, I once read about the distinction between law and justice. They say you get the law in this world, and justice in the next, that law is the imperfect attempt to realise justice.”

“Sounds about right.” I said. “Where are you going with this.”

“Sometimes I look at you, and wonder what justice would look like if it had form.”

I laughed. “You think I'm an arbiter of justice from the next world? Princess, you've been out in the sun too long.”

Twilight gave me the hard eye for a few seconds, before turning away. Her gaze drifted over Applejack and Dashie. Applejack looked a little perkier now. They both looked ready to leave.

“Well, maybe you can't, or won't see it, but you're a good pony. If you were anything less, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Christ, from the next world? Sure, why not. Arbiter of justice? That's a good joke.

We reburied Zecora in a neater grave, fitting her proportions so she could lie naturally rather than in a contorted mess. Now she was resting a couple of meters from the back door of the hut, beneath the twisting trees and fallen leaves. A quiet funeral, buried in familiar ground.

Twilight set about appeasing the press and the police when we got back. Applejack, Dashie and I got pounced by a couple of police officers eager to waste our time. I was able to weasel out of that one using my fake ECMB badge. It struck me how much respect police gave to anti-magic agents.

We agreed to spend the rest of the day pursuing our own avenues of investigation before meeting to exchange information at Twilight's castle that evening.

Well, they agreed.

I had no plans to waste more time with a group meeting. I knew that with every passing minute, the odds of Applebloom being alive were dropping. I knew that I could find her faster than those three could. Speed was everything.

I went straight to the train station to confirm my suspicions. The station manager was more than helpful once I convinced him I was an ECMB agent. I told him I was looking for two or three ponies with a yellow filly in tow that boarded a train here sometime after eight last night, producing a picture of Applebloom while I talked. He didn't recall, but he called in the on-duty conductor from last night, who remembered seeing such a trio.

The first, as he described, was an average built chestnut unicorn, bearing a cutie mark of a six-tooth cog and a jet-black mane. The second was a similarly sized earth pony, with a a coat of white and a silvery, gently spiked mane, though the conductor claimed not to have seen his cutie mark.

The third passenger he described perfectly as Applebloom, though she was asleep upon the earth pony's back.

I asked if there was anything else unusual about them, specifically referring to the state of their hooves and coats, to which the conductor replied they looked as though they'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

They bought tickets to Canterlot.

On the train, I finally had time to think about how all of this came to be. Why did they kill Zecora, and what were they looking for in her cabin? I glided my hoof over the stud in my ear. A relic like mine would certainly be desirable, something that the wrong kind of pony would kill for. I thought there must have been other objects of worth hidden in Zecora's hut, disguised as worthless pieces of tat to the untrained eye, and perhaps something like that could have been their target.

My mind wandered to the personality of her killers. They had the conviction to end Zecora's life, but not Applebloom's, going so far as to risk exposing themselves by taking her near Ponyville, even if it was late at night.

Amateurs, I thought.

I guessed it was probably an unsavoury job they took up for a sum of money. I've encountered ponies like the ones I was tracking before, and they fall into one of two categories. Either they desperately need the money for one reason or another, or they owed favours, and this was how they were going to repay them. Neither type is inherently evil, as I myself have mused while dispensing my own form of professional justice upon them. I didn't much care though. I was going to find them, and make them suffer, because they killed Zecora and took Applebloom.

Now I was alone, with only my brooding to keep me occupied. My darkest thoughts surfaced and compounded in the forefront of my mind.

The train squealed as it slowed and entered Canterlot station. They must have had a 15 hour head-start on me, but they'd need more than that to disappear completely. My first port of call was the Bull & China, a little establishment on the south side of Canterlot run by Mad Star, or Maddie.

He wasn't a friend exactly, Applejack is a friend. However, I knew I could ask him for help and not have it come back and bite me in the rear sometime in the future, as long as I paid him well.

The Bull & China is of little worth in and of itself, as anyone can tell by spending more than thirty seconds within its walls.

The last time I was in there, Maddie shooed away two ponies before they even opened their mouths. He could tell just by looking if an individual was worth his time. Only ponies that know what Maddie provides are admitted, and if you have to ask, then you have no use for what he provides, nor is it your business to ask. Things that money can't buy, Maddie sells. I once told him to use that as a strapline.

It was a brief walk from the station to the Bull & China, a journey spent throwing glances in every direction, as if I might find those ponies by accident. No such luck visited me that time, and soon I found myself looking up at the sign to the cafe. Its name was decorated with bulbs that turned on automatically when it got dark – at least that would happen if they weren't all broken. I guessed repairs weren't at the front of Maddie's mind.

I entered the cafe and was met with profound silence, broken only by the bell above the door. There were no customers, and Maddie was nowhere to be seen. A percolator of coffee was perched on the counter top, still warm. I could hear quiet clattering from the kitchen.

I took a mug from behind the bar and poured myself some viscous black liquid, waiting for Maddie to emerge from the saloon style doors that led to the kitchen. I raised the mug up to under my nose before setting it down on the counter top, having drunk none. I knew it was impossible to make coffee smell so bad, but Maddie found a way.

“It's rude to keep customers waiting Maddie.” I said.

The gentle clanging of pots and pans ceased, and I heard hoofsteps coming from the kitchen. He made as grand an entrance he could, as though he were the king of his small world. Being he was the proprietor, it made sense.

Maddie was a pretty large earth pony, but not fat or 90% muscle. He was like an average pony scaled up about a third. You could be forgiven for thinking he was a relative of Big Mac. His coat was a fiery orange, his black mane cut short. Upon his flanks was a cutie mark of a five-pointed black star, circled by a red ring.

“Well if it ain't Anon.” he said. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I've got some work for you.”I said. He didn't seem to hear me.

“I've been reading, y'know.”

“No, really?”

“I know right? Crazy.” he said. “There's some interestin' things in Canterlot archives. Every dirty little government secret, all in one place. It's an information broker's paradise.”

“Too bad it's not open to the public.”

He shot me a slight smile. “Y'know, it took me a long time, but I finally managed to get one of my crew in there. Slight little feller, slips by real easy. Could've had me a peek at anythin'. Tax records, city plans, census data. There's probably a record of which hoof Celestia uses to pick her nose.”

He rapped a few times on the counter top.

“Get to the point Maddie, I'm an impatient pony.”

He dragged his hoof along the counter. Nails on a blackboard.

“Lets just say, someone's been telling fibs.”

I smiled absently. If any pony were ever to discover my false identity as one of their own, it would probably be him, which is why I tried my best to limit the size of the information file on me he undoubtedly keeps. Perhaps he was bluffing about infiltrating the Canterlot archives, but if he had, his dossier on me would be so thick you could flatten daises between its pages.

“Well.” I said. “Takes one to know one.”

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, then let go a hearty laugh. It echoed eerily throughout the place.

Am I funny to you, Maddie? Fuck you. You come poking your snout into my past I'll kick your fucking teeth in.

He recovered from his bellowing, wiping a tear from his eye as he did. “It's been too long Anon. What you been up to then?”

“You just got done with a massive spiel saying you knew everything about me. Or did I mishear?”

“I prefer to hear it from you. You got a good voice for tellin' stories.”

I sighed. “Read the papers much?”

“You know I do.”

“You read about the Heartstrings case?” I said. He looked off to one side and tapped his chin with one hoof. “Couple of weeks back.”

“Oh yeah, heard his head got ripped to shreds.” he said. He barely finished talking before his eyes widened. “Holy shit, that wasn't you was it?”

“Of course not. It was a spell that did it. Do you see a horn coming out of my head?”

“How'd you know it was a spell?”

“Because I'm still finding pieces of his skull in my mane.” I said. “I was standing as close to him as we're are now.”

Maddie wrinkled his face. He looked like a purse. I was sure I heard one of his goons say that. I doubted anyone had the courage to say it to his face.

“Know what you are? A damned death magnet. I've noticed wherever you go, someone usually dies.” he shook his head. “Anyway, come on, what's this work you got for me?”

I took the picture of Applebloom out of my coat and passed it over the counter.

“This filly. I need to find her.”

Maddie examined the photograph with the same detachment a microbiologist would examine bacteria in a petri dish.

“She would have rolled into Canterlot late last night in the company of two stallions.”

“Uhuh, and what what do they look like?”

“One earth pony, brown with with a black mane, six-tooth cog as a mark. The other is a unicorn. White with silver mane, dunno the mark.”

Maddie paced over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of cider. I didn't recognise the brand.

“Just find this filly then?” he said, opening the bottle.

“Yeah.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah, and then tell me where they are.”

“Ain't gonna be cheap.” he said. “A lot of my crew, they don't much like this kinda work. Money is the only thing that motivates 'em.”

“A thousand.” I said. “Half now, half after I get the filly.”

“1,500.” he replied.

“1,250.”

“1,300.”

“Done. Half now, half after you deliver.” I reminded him.

He put his hooves up and nodded. I wasn't particularly keen on parting with a sum of money like that, but these were desperate times. Maddie left me alone in the seating area after I wrote him a cheque for 650, inviting me to take a seat and help myself to some complementary beverages while he made the necessary preparations. I took a cider from the fridge and planted myself in a chair that threatened to collapse with the slightest weight.

Where did they go? Think, Anon. They were hired to do this, almost certainly. What would they do after they finished the job? Did they have a contact here in Canterlot? What about Applebloom, they must have a reason for bringing her here.

Could they not decide what to do with her? Did they need someone else to make that decision? I'd guess they took her to whoever was paying them. Morons like them need someone they can look up to, someone who can make hard choices. Yes, their contact will decide what's to be done about Applebloom.

My train of thought was interrupted when Maddie squeezed through the saloon doors from the kitchen, and I realised I hadn't so much as touched the free cider, probably to my benefit. He took a seat opposite mine.

“It's done.” he said. “I got twenty of my crew on the job. If that filly so much as sneezes, we'll know.”

I nodded my approval and made an ill-advised start on the bottle.

“So.” he said. “Don't you wanna share your troubles with daddy Maddie?”

“The less you know about me, the better. For both of us.” I replied. “Besides, I can pay professionals for counselling if I want it.”

“You are paying me.” he said, patting me on the knee. “C'mon Anon, don't you trust me?”

Despite the cheeky grin, I couldn't tell if he was joking or serious, but I decided it would be better to humour him and stay on his good side rather than piss him off and make a potential enemy of him in the future. It was obvious that he didn't want me as an enemy either, so it was unlikely I would regret throwing him a small bone.

“This job I'm doing is a favour.” I said. “That filly I'm looking for is the sister to a friend. She was abducted.”

“Shit, I didn't know you had friends.”

“Write it down in my file now or you might forget.”

He raised both eyebrows and rubbed his chin, as though he were surprised I had divined he kept a dossier on me.

“Anyway, the ponies that took her, they also killed one of my other friends.”

“This all sounds very unprofessional Anon.”

I laughed. I wanted to torture those ponies for no reason other than to make them suffer, and then I would kill them. Their motives meant little to me. Perhaps, I thought, if I didn't kill them too quickly, I'd find out why they did it.

“No, it isn't. But I take my violence very seriously. Is that not good enough?”

“You gonna kill 'em?”

“Why not tag along, you can find out first hoof.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“You might regret sayin' that. One's a unicorn, I recall you sayin'. Gonna be a tough fight, might be glad of some help.”

“I don't plan on it being a very long one.” I said. “Besides, there are more ways to fight than just head-on. You should know that.”

“Well.” Maddie said. “Don't say I didn't warn you.”

I was cantering. I didn't canter often, as I preferred to plan so that I'd never find myself in a situation that required me to move quickly. For me, cantering was an admission of the fact I hadn't properly planned whatever I was doing, and I'd found myself wanting for time as a result. Unfortunately, events beyond my reasonable control had developed that required me to act with haste.

Maddie and I had been conversing for little more than thirty minutes before we were interrupted by one of his mooks bursting through the door of the cafe. He came bearing news that ponies like the ones I described had been spotted, and they were moving. Not towards the train station, or even anywhere they could find a form of transport.

They were heading to the north, in which direction lies a handful of cart trails leading to neighbouring towns, and the mountain that looms over Canterlot. I knew I could catch up to them before they reached the city walls if I cantered, at which point I could follow them. I also knew I couldn't take two ponies, let alone a unicorn while I was myself a pony. In my human form, I stood a chance if I took the unicorn by surprise, and then overpowered the earth pony with superior strength.

There would be bodies tonight. I didn't know if it would be mine or theirs.

The skies had darkened since I entered the Bull & China, threatening to open the heavens upon the city. It wouldn't last though. The weather ponies would scramble their pegasi any moment, and the clouds would be obliterated, allowing rays of sunshine to touch every dark corner. I figured I had ten minutes before light returned to the land, at which point, tailing my enemies would become difficult.

I followed Maddie's grunt, Stoke, through the crowds, not bothering to apologise to the ponies we ran down in our urgency. My breathing became heavy and deep, not just because of physical exertions I wasn't so used to, but at the prospect of catching up with the ponies that killed Zecora.

Stoke came to an abrupt halt as we came within a few minutes of the north city gates. He turned to me briefly, and pointed down the street.

About ten meters from where we stood, I saw them. I saw the chestnut unicorn with the six-tooth cog, and upon his back was Applebloom, sleeping soundly. I was overcome with an unusual concoction of feelings: relief that Applebloom lived still, happiness that I had found her, and rage at her kidnappers. They combined to further reinforce the flight or fight response that was running strong in my veins.

“Those the ones?” Stoke asked.

“Yeah.” I said. “That's them.”

“Happy hunting.” he said, and he began ambling back the way we came.

My targets had walked about five meters further, and I might have lost them in the crowd had I taken my eyes off them for but a second.

I still remember the feeling. It was as though the rest of the world ceased to be, and was replaced with visions of only the silver and chestnut pony, with Applebloom unconscious on his back. Gradually, colour and sound returned to the city, and I found myself motionless in the chaos of Canterlot, still staring at my targets as they were receding into the background.

I regained my senses and began following them. I trotted until I was only a couple of meters behind them, and then slowed to match their walking speed. She was so close, that I might reach out and take her hoof, but I knew it would be impossible.

I stayed as close as possible, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, but it became lost in the background noise of the city. After this I put a few more meters distance between me and them, in case Applebloom were to wake and reveal me.

I tailed them closely for no more than two minutes before we came to the northern gates. Beyond which, there was no cover to be found among crowds, and it would be obvious that I was following them. Though it wrenched at my heart, I stopped under the gate and waited. If I could somehow divine their destination by the direction they were walking, I could tail them from as far away as I liked with no chance of being discovered.

I watched them for as long as possible, until they were out of sight. They took a right turn straight out of the gates and followed the city walls for about one-hundred meters, before taking a sharp left, disappearing behind a range of small hills. I knew all this, and still had no idea where they were going, or what their planned to do.

I looked left and right. I didn't know what I was looking for, or what I needed, but I needed it badly. Everywhere, tourists blighted the streets, obscuring anyone or anything that might be of use. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, until I realised tourists were the most useful thing I could ask for, specifically, what they undoubtedly had in their possession. I grabbed with both hooves the first pony I found that had a camera around their neck.

“Excuse me.” I said. The pony flinched. Perhaps he expected me to mug him. “I need a map of Canterlot, do you have one?”

“Well sure mister.” he said, fishing it out of his saddlebag. “They got a bunch of 'em at tourist information. It's down by-”

“Thanks.” I said, swiping it from his hooves and running out of the north gate. His protests echoed in the streets.

I had cantered fifty meters along the length of the north walls before I stopped and unfolded the map. It was a very touristy map, highlighting specific areas of Canterlot like hotels, restaurants, and nice views of the city. I wasn't interested in anything within the walls of the city though.

I found the northwest corner of the map and squinted at the writing. The map showed the only noteworthy place in the direction my targets were heading as the crystal caverns, a huge cave network that ran deep into the mountain and under Canterlot. I'd heard stories of ponies venturing into those cursed caves and never coming out.

The only reason I would go into that place of my own volition if is I needed to disappear and never be found, a place of perfect privacy. An ideal meeting point, then, for ponies of a less legal persuasion.

An ideal place to hide a body.

I clumsily refolded the map and clamped it between my jaws as I cantered along the length of the north wall. To my left, when the hills dipped, I could see the ruins of old settlements, and the marks they made upon the landscape. Collapsing drystone walls. Ruins preserved for their cultural and archaeological significance.

Beyond these lay the colossal doors to the caverns, embedded in the foot of the mountain; a relic of times when these ponies fancied themselves as lords of nature, controllers of the darkness that resides within the caves. Perhaps they were justified in that notion. After all, they managed to tame cloud and lightning. Even the sun and moon were at their whim. Here stood a mere cave they could never hope to control. It must have been a bitter pill to swallow.

As I stepped through the crumbling homesteads, a curtain of light lifted across the land. The pegasi had cleared the skies, lifting the shade and the cover it provided. It also illuminated fresh hoof-prints left in the mud and grass, two sets of them, running in parallel with each other. I followed those tracks, which pointed the direction of the mountain.

I came up on a small crest which marked the end of the ruins. As I scaled it, I could see the flatlands between myself and the entrance to the caves. At this distance, they were little more than brown and white blemishes that tainted the landscape. I was only a couple of minutes behind them.

I waited, and watched the figures to enter the smaller door to the caves before cantering across the plains to where they once stood. I hugged the base of the mountain all the way to the doors, where I took a moment to recover.

I peered in carefully, seeing little more than the heavy darkness that promised to take you, and a faint glow, most likely an illumination spell from the unicorn reflecting off the perfect geometry of the crystalline rocks. I could hear their muffled voices too, reverberating throughout the structure, though I could discern no words.

I glanced around myself briefly, looking for anyone that might have tailed me here. I doubted Maddie was below sending one of his mooks to see what had got me so riled, but looking around the plains, I could see only nature. In the skies, the weather pegasi were finishing their meteorological duties, and returning to Cloudsdale. The day was transitioning into twilight now. It would be dark when I came out of the caves, if I came out at all.

I was about twenty meters inside, following the light of my targets before I felt it safe to transform. I took the map, unfolded it, and crumpled it into a ball before putting it back in my mouth. I bit down on it hard while I twisted the cylindrical stud in my ear, and did my best to remain silent throughout the brief but maddeningly painful transition from equine to human.

When my senses returned to me, I spluttered quietly and held my head in my palms, waiting for the lingering dizziness to end. I stretched my arms and legs, my knees clicking, echoing in the cavern loudly. Fortunately, the sound of my creaking joints paled in comparison to the clopping of hooves that rung in the cavern, and I began stalking them.

The cavern was akin to a hall of mirrors, each rock face reflected both sound and light, so that it was difficult to determine the true location of those two ponies. I had been walking, feeling the walls along the way, when the sound of hoof-fall stopped. For a moment, I was sure I had been discovered, until I heard the two ponies conversing. This time, I could hear them clearly.

“Think we're deep enough yet?” asked one. “Hard to tell distance in this place.”

“Twenty meters was probably deep enough.”

“She said to go at least a hundred meters in.”

She?

“Fuck what she said. She ain't here, and I can see why. This place is just wrong. Plain fucking wrong.” one replied. “Besides, any further and we might get lost. Do you wanna get lost? In this place?”

There was a loud silence for a few moments. They were close, very close, probably no more than ten meters between us.

“Alright. Here is fine I guess.” one said. “So, how do you want to do it?”

“Don't talk like I'm gonna be the one to do it.” one said. “It's not right. I can't. I won't.”

“I already dealt with the fucking crazy zebra. I did my part, now it's your turn. Spells are faster and cleaner anyway.”

“What if the ECMB finds out? I'd be a dead pony.” the unicorn said. “Can't you, I dunno, find a rock or something?”

“And what? Smash her head in?” he said. There was another period of silence. “Holy fuck, that's just sick. There's somethin' wrong with your head.”

“They never said there'd be a filly! They were pretty fucking clear. One zebra, alone. Get the list, get out. If I'd known this was gonna happen, I'd have told 'em to get fucked.”

“I know what they told us. Don't you get it? We're in the same boat. I've bailed my share of water.”

I could have sworn I heard a sniff. “She's just a filly. She probably doesn't even remember our faces.”

“It's our lives, or hers. They'll kill us if we don't.”

The ultimatum filled the cavern, lending to the gravity of the situation. Minutes, or so it felt, passed before a reply.

“Fine.” the unicorn said. “Fine.”

The cavern was enveloped in darkness once again as the illuminating spell ceased. A few seconds later, a weaker light shone from the same direction, accompanied by a quiet, electrical humming.

I knew that sound, the sound that preceded an attack spell, which I have been on the receiving end of more times than I would have liked. I had perhaps three to five seconds before Applebloom died, and through my inaction, it may as well have been me who killed her.

There was no time to plan, or to consider the outcomes of my actions. The only thing I could do in my small time window was rush them. I stood from my crouched position and began to run through the cavern. The earth pony had heard my footfall, and turned to look in my direction. The unicorn had not noticed me just yet, instead focusing on his spell and on the unconscious filly in front of him.

As I came ever closer to the light, I saw the fear manifesting on the earth pony's face. I felt powerful, unstoppable even. The earth pony shook the unicorn with both hooves, begging him to turn around.

He did so, just in time to feel my foot connect with his neck. I felt the hairs, then the soft tissue, followed by his oesophagus. Finally, I felt the tiny crack of bone, and I was sad. The swiftness of his demise was too great, too kind. Unfortunately, there's no easy way to keep a unicorn subdued without the help of another unicorn, and so his fate was necessary.

Behind me, I could hear panicked breathing and uneven clopping of hooves. The earth pony had run after witnessing his partners death, into the darkness that he thought would conceal him. I walked after him slowly, carefully listening to the racket he made. Short breaths, loud swallowing, horseshoes on rock.

After thirty seconds of our game of cat and mouse, the clopping stopped. I kept walking, quiet as humanly possible, towards the sound of the last hoof-fall. Sure, it was easy enough to stop the sounds of your hooves, but the sound of deep breathing is impossible to suppress. I could hear him now, and though the cave was pitch black, I knew he was within arms reach.

I stretched my arm out, finding a lump of mane. The earth pony it belonged to began screaming. I dragged him back to where his partner lay dead, the glow of his horn now dissipating into nothingness.

There's a little known fact about unicorns concerning their horns. Providing the horn remains intact, one can stimulate the nerves inside to produce spells, even if its been liberated from its owner. This is purely theoretical however, as determining exactly which nervous pathways are involved in producing specific spells is nigh on impossible, but it is possible to continuously stimulate the neurons inside the horn to generate low-level lighting.

To this end, I repurposed the dead unicorn's horn as a biological torch. I didn't bring anything resembling a sharp object with me into the caves, so I found myself improvising with a few jagged lumps of crystal rock in the sickly green light of the horn.

Shrike, that was his name, though I had asked him nothing. Perhaps his talkativeness was because of the shards of crystal buried in his thigh and shoulder.

I held a third piece of crystal in my hand. An igneous rock. When broken, the pieces can form edges with a thickness of three nanometers. I recall surgeons sometimes used obsidian scalpels in place of tempered steel.

I drew another piece of crystal over his leg, leaving a long, shallow, and messy cut. How he screamed. I didn't know if I was enjoying it, or if my body was so flooded with hormones that I felt good regardless. The sensation was there, though. That was all that mattered. It was as though I were in a Skinner box, and each painful, tormenting cut rewarded me, conditioned me to associate the pain of another with a positive stimulus.

I was preparing to make another cut, this time to remove his left eyelid, when he whimpered to himself.

“Why?” he coughed. “Why?”

“Why?” I asked.

He brought his bowed head up to meet my eyes. The stench of fear all around him excited me. Both our hearts were beating so quickly you could almost dance to the beat. This was the first time I spoke.

“You can speak?” he asked, through a waterfall of tears. “Why are you doing this?”

“Shrike. That's your name, right?” I said. “Let me ask you something instead Shrike: why'd you do it? In the Everfree, there was a zebra that you killed and buried in a shallow grave. Why did she need to die?”

“It was part of the job.” he said. “I swear I was just doing a job. Let me go. That's all you gotta do just please let me go.”

“What job?” I asked, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. “What job? What were you looking for in that cabin?”

“A list.”

“A list of what?”

He hesitated. I removed the shard in his thigh and replaced it in his right hoof.

“Names!” he screamed. “I don't know what its for, I didn't recognise any of 'em. I was just told to find it and give it to my contact. Let me go. Please, just let me go.”

“Zecora and Applebloom had to die for a fucking list?” I said. “Is that what you're telling me?”

“Who?” he said.

Wrong fucking answer.

I gripped the crystal shard tight and raised it above my head, before burying it in his shin. He screamed so loudly that it continued to echo throughout the cavern for several seconds.

“Zecora! The one you did kill, and Applebloom, that filly over there that you were going to kill! All over a god damned list?”

“I'm sorry.” he blubbed. It seemed he ran out of tears. His eyes were bloodshot. “I was just doing a job, I swear. I had to, or she was gonna kill me.”

“She?”

“I don't know. I don't know!” he said. “I never heard her name, and I never saw her without a cloak on. It's her. She's the one you want.”

“Really?” I said. “Well that's a pity, since she's not here. Guess I'll have to settle for you. Maybe your broken and bloodied corpse will send a message.”

“Please.” he said. “Please, don't kill me. I have a wife, two foals too.”

I laughed. “That's a pity as well. You've seen my face, you know my voice. You know I care about that little filly. There's only one way I can guarantee my safety now.”

“Please don't!” he whined. “I swear I won't tell anyone!”

“I know.” I smiled at him.

“I told you, it was just a job! I was just doing a job!”

“So am I.”

I plunged one final piece of crystal into his right eye. God, how he screeched. I thought he might bring the whole cave system down upon both of us. I wedged the shard in a little more, probably far enough to stab his medulla oblongata. A mixture of blood and other fluids erupted from the area once occupied by a functional optic organ, replaced by an irregular piece of rock. In time, his screaming stopped, but it continued to wail through the cavern long after he expired.

I knelt for a while, supporting my arms on my thighs: exhausted, but satisfied. I understood what I just inflicted on Shrike, and reflected briefly on the irony of his namesake and the particulars of his death. I could find not a shred of regret in my heart, nor an internal voice condemning my actions, despite knowing full well what I forced him to endure.

As I would come to realise, I had undergone more than just one transformation that day.

I found Applebloom still unconscious on the floor having dispatched Shrike. Unharmed, and luckily, oblivious to what had just occurred.

Next to her, a few feet away, lay the unnamed unicorn with the cog mark. His eyelids were still open as he stared at my feet, and a line of saliva connected his slack mouth with the ground. There was no longer a need for my human form, and so I twisted the tiny stud in my right ear. The hormones coursing through my body did a lot to numb the pain, and I was able to keep the vocals accompanying it to a level below deafening.

I passed the horn over her from head to tail, checking for open wounds. Her kidnappers had been remarkably gentle with her, not so much as a bruise or scuff on her yellow coat.

“Applebloom?” I asked, gently shoving her with my hoof. “Applebloom, wake up.”

She didn't respond. I pondered for a moment, before covering her nostrils with my hooves. After a few seconds, she coughed and spluttered back into consciousness. She took quick and shallow breaths and tried to back away, eyes fixated on me.

“Hey Applebloom? It's only Anon.” I said. “You remember me, right?”

The scuffling stopped and Applebloom regarded me with fear, followed by confusion.

“Anon?” she asked. “Is it really you?”

“See for yourself.” I said, passing the glowing horn around my face so she could see me clearly.

“It is you!” she said, launching herself into me.

She knocked me back with so much force that I hit the back of my head on the ground, but I didn't mind. Partly because I was too happy, partly because there were still excess endorphins being pumped around my body, dulling pain quite effectively.

“How'd you find me?”

“It's what I'm good at.” I said, sitting back up and returning her affection with a hug. She broke it off abruptly, I thought, for a moment, she was scared of me.

“Those other ponies, are they here?” she asked. “They scare me.”

“No, you'll never be bothered by them ever again.” I said. She wrapped her hooves around my neck, finishing the hug she thought was owed.

“How did ah get here?” she asked. “Ah was at Zecora's, and then those two ponies turned up and... ah don't remember. Why can't ah remember?”

I didn't know how to tell Applebloom that Zecora had been murdered in cold blood, and that she almost shared the same fate.

“How about we get out of this cave first?” I said. “I'll tell you all about it on the train back to Ponyville.”

“We ain't in Ponyville?”

I shook my head. “We will be soon, though.”

Together we sat in the train carriage. In front of us there were empty seats, and we could've seen the scenery pass by if the daylight was still with us. Instead I saw myself and Applebloom reflected in the glass, and I regarded myself with surprise.

I was tired. Bags under my eyes, partially drooped ears, and my mane had become a little wiry, like an old toothbrush. Upon further consideration, my fatigue was understandable. It was an early start, an effect of conforming to Applejack's farm work schedule, and though I had no need to get up so early, old habits die hard. The whole day was spent walking, and when I wasn't walking, I was thinking, or cantering.

The events of the last couple of hours had almost finished me off, the last little prod that knocks down the exhausted boxer.

I tried various tricks to keep me awake, eventually settling for watching Applebloom in the reflection of the window. She looked worried, which I could understand. Everything I've said to comfort her, she knows it's all talk, things that you tell foals when they've had a bad day.

“Applebloom?” I asked. She stopped chewing her hoof to look up at me. “What's got you worried? Is it those ponies?”

“No.” she said. “It's not them.”

“Then what?”

She rubbed her hooves together and cleared her throat. I would understand if she was still scared of her kidnappers, despite my insistence she would never see them again. But, if it was something else, something less tangible, I don't know what I could say to make it better.

“Scootaloo.” she said. “Ah was with her in the Everfree. She okay?”

'Yes.' I replied. 'She's fine.'

“What about Zecora?”

At that moment, I wondered if there was a parallel universe where Applebloom didn't ask me that, where I wouldn't have to spin an ambiguous response. It was unfair to tell her the truth, and it was unfair to lie to her, not to mention she'd find out eventually anyway.

Foals, they can't grasp the concept of death, that you can be here one moment and gone the next. To them, everyone is immortal, and the arrow of time that propels us into the future remains stationary.

“She's-” I began. “She left, and she's not coming back.”

“How'd you mean?”

“Those mean ponies, they made her go away.”

“Can't she come back now that they're gone?”

“No. They made her leave forever.” I said, shaking my head. “Nobody can ever see her again.”

I sighed melancholy as my shoulders gave out slightly. Applebloom seemed to mirror my actions. She would find out the truth one day in the near future, and I prayed I wouldn't be the one that had to confirm it.

“Hey.” I said. “Wanna hear the story of how I found you now?”.

Omitting details where necessary, I thought to myself. Applebloom loved hearing about my exploits, which I usually embellished heavily, in place of the rather more graphic reality. Applejack said she sees me as some kind of champion of justice, a crime fighting superhero.

Perhaps one day I'll become just that.

Applebloom nodded enthusiastically. I leaned back into the corner of the row of seats, and told her all that had happened that day. She sat next to me with an awestruck expression and absolutely no trace of the drowsy sadness that had infested her not five minutes ago.

I was proud of myself.

It was late, very late, by the time Applebloom and I had rolled into Ponyville and walked to the farm. Despite spending most of the day unconscious, she had fallen into a deep sleep about ten minutes before we got off the train. Unresponsive to pokes and prods to usher her awake, I found myself carrying her the rest of the way. I was about ready to collapse as well.

I came up the dirt path leading to the house. Lights were still burning inside, casting a narrow carpet of light upon the ground outside where it leaked from the windows.

“Applebloom.” I said, she grunted a little. “Applebloom.”

I used the back of my head to knock her awake. She stirred and yawned, making me acutely aware of the number of hours I'd been active.

“We're here.” I said. “Time to get off.”

“Will sis' be mad at me?” she asked, clambering down from me. “I know I'm not supposed to go near the Everfree.”

“No.” I said, shaking my head and offering a smile. “She'll be happy. I promise.”

As walked to the door together, I experienced a strange feeling that excited the hairs on the back of my neck. It was more than just pride, both personal and professional, it was a kind of completeness, as though part of me had departed when Applebloom went missing, and had now been returned to me. I rapped on the door quietly, and heard a series of hoof-falls and quiet muttering from beyond.

“Now ain't a good time.” Applejack said. “Who is it?”

“It's me, AJ.” I replied. “I've found a lost filly, she says she lives here. You know anything about that?”

“Anon?” Applejack asked, followed by encroaching hoof-steps, quickly increasing in frequency.

“I'm back.” Applebloom said, with a mixture of anticipation and shame in her voice.

The door flung open to reveal Applejack. Her face was an exact likeness of mine, sporting all the hallmarks of exhaustion and stress. In an instant it disappeared as she laid eyes upon her sister. Her bottom lip shivered some as words failed her, and tears began to well in her eyes. Almost ignoring my presence, she scooped Applebloom up in a wet hug.

In the moonlight, they cried together for a long time. Despite myself, I was dabbing at my eyes and sniffing to hold back my own tears. It's been a long time since I cried over anything, but if there was ever a time to open the waterworks, it would have been then.

I sat in the living room with Big Mac. It's was too easy to forget about that stoic stallion, easier still to regard him as unaffected by his little sister's disappearance. I didn't. If an observant soul spent enough time in his company, they would come to know his tells, as I have done.

He had fixed both of us some coffee while Applejack cherished her time with Applebloom. I waited in silence, staring into the swirling black liquid, breathing in the vapour and taking the occasional sip. After about twenty minutes, Applejack descended the stairs, still sniffling. She thanked Big Mac for looking after me, and he promptly left the room by the stairs, presumably to pass out on his bed. Applejack slumped into the sofa opposite me, taking what Big Mac had left of his coffee.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Sleeping.” she replied. “She were so tired. Barely stayed awake for five minutes, then out like a light.”

“Probably shouldn't wake her up too early.” I said.

Applejack offered an absent nod, and I could tell something was troubling her as well.

“Bit for your thoughts?” I asked. She stretched and rubbed her left arm.

“Don't get me wrong, Anon. I'm grateful, real grateful. I couldn't repay you in a thousand lifetimes.”

“But?”

“But, I'm worried.” she said. “Did you find who did this?”

“Yeah. Well, no. Kinda. The ponies that took her, they were working for someone.” I said. “But I did find her foalnappers.”

“And you-” she began. “You did things, to them?”

I nodded. “They won't bother anyone again.”

“Tell me, Anon." she said. “Tell me she didn't see anything. She's too young.”

“She was unconscious the whole time.” I replied. “She didn't see anything.”

She let out a single quiet laugh. All this time, she had been looking at the floor, and had just now met my eyes.

“Y'know.” she said. “When Dashie and me were at Twilight's, I had this thought.”

“A dangerous pastime.”

She smiled. “I thought that, the only reason you'd ever turn up is if you couldn't find anythin'. The other two got angry that ya weren't there, but ah knew, felt, that you were out there, doin' yer best ter find her.”

“Oh yeah, did any of you find any leads?”

“Only Twilight. Turns out we're pretty useless at detective work. Who'dve thought, right?” she said. “Twilight went to the station same as you did, around sunset. Said she was lookin' fer Applebloom, showed the station commander a picture. You know what the station commander said?”

“Go on.”

“He said an anti-magic agent had come through asking the exact same questions.” she folded her arms and gave a wry smile. “I bet that fake badge comes in handy right?”

I smiled. “It has its uses.”

“Twilight were livid, looked ready to burst when she realised it were you.” she said. “Ah convinced her ta let ya hang onto it.”

“She can have this one if she wants. I got, like, three more.”

“Ah should've guessed.”

“Thanks though.”

“Fer what?”

“Y'know. For looking out for me.”

She got up and headed to the kitchen with mug in hoof, leaving me alone with my tepid coffee. I swirled it a little, but didn't take another sip. I leaned backwards into the couch, letting the cushions envelop me. My joints clicked loudly and with much satisfaction as I fidgeted to get comfortable, and rested my eyes a little.

I woke not five minutes later when a weight on the other end of the couch caused it to quietly creak. Still experiencing some pep from the coffee, I was alert in a matter of seconds. Applejack was kneeling on the couch, facing me. She was avoiding my eyes.

“AJ?” I asked. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I thought-” she began. “I thought you'd like ter, y'know, come with me.”

Despite having been awake for many hours, I was aware of the subtext like it had just spat on my food. This wasn't the first time a pony wanted to get busy with me. I knew from the first week that it could conceivably happen, and until now, it had been easy to dismiss those advances. It was easy to refuse strangers, but I gave no thought to the fact that a friend, perhaps my only friend, would be one to try it on.

I liked Applejack, of that there was no doubt, but the problem was twofold. One, she felt obliged to try and repay my favour in this way, and an enormous favour it was, which I would probably be above accepting even if I was a pony, and two: I couldn't get around the feeling of it just being plain wrong. I wasn't a pony, not really, and extended time in their company had made me no fonder of the idea of sex than I was when I first considered the possibility.

“AJ, you don't want this.” I said. “Not really.”

She seemed to ignore what I said and moved closer. Her hooves drifted over my shoulders and met together behind my neck. Her coat was soft, like feather down. Her mane draped over my ears.

“But ah have to.” she said. “After what you've done fer me, fer all of us.” she said. Her words, spoken so softly. Most stallions would cave.

“But you don't want it.” I said. “And you don't have to, don't think you do.”

“Is it because I'm just a farm pony?” she asked. “I know I ain't the prettiest or smartest, but I can still show you a good time.”

She brought herself forwards so that our foreheads and torsos were touching. She smelt good. Her body heat felt good too.

“No, AJ.” I said, taking her hooves from my neck and holding them in my own. She leaned back slightly. I silently cheered at my small victory. “You're not 'just' a farm pony. You're the smartest and most beautiful pony I know, popular opinion be damned. I know what you're gonna say, that I'm 'just saying that' or 'you don't mean that'. I do, AJ. I see it in you every time we meet, even if others don't.”

“But you saved Applebloom.”

“I did it because it was the right thing to do, and because I like you AJ.” I said. “I didn't do it to gain favours.”

A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and I wondered what emotion spawned it. She smiled with a warmth that I thought would follow me for weeks to come, protecting my being from any sadness life decided to deal me.

“Ya big tease.”

She leaned in to me again, wrapping her hooves around my waist, and I returned the gesture. Before I could protest, she kissed me on my cheek, leaving a small damp patch when her lips left.

“I owed you that, at least.” she said.

“Y'know.” I said. “Nobody ever paid for a job that way.”

“Well, there's a first time fer everything.”

She broke off the hug and sat on the sofa next to me, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hoof. Yawning, she let her head be supported on my left shoulder. I spent a few moments, just watching her as she began to slip into a peaceful sleep. When I thought she was safely asleep, I gently touched the point where she had kissed me. It was still a little moist, an echo of what happened tonight, and what could have happened.

It was a precious moment, bound to become a precious memory. One that I replayed in my head, like counting sheep.

I slept well.

Author's Notes:

Feel free to leave a comment or do the bookshelf thing or whatever. I'm not exactly sure how these things work.

Stay gold.