Scootaloo shrugged, and kept walking. “There isn’t really a way to find out unless we keep going.”

“I… guess,” Flight breathed. As she spoke, she noticed she could see her breath linger in the mist for a moment before dissipating. Her teeth began to clatter involuntarily.

“I-is it just me, or did it… suddenly become really cold?” Scootaloo asked.

“N-no, I feel it too,” Flight replied. “I don’t know where it’s coming from, though.”

“Maybe it’s the mist.” Scootaloo squinted, trying to see through the nebulous expanse before her. “Or… whoever’s out there.”

“You think they can just change the temperature like that?” Flight asked. Her question remained unanswered, though, and hung in the air just like the breath that came with it; the fillies, however, moved on. They hardly noticed as their hooves began to slip slightly on the slick floor, but as time seemed to wear on, they did grow more confused.

“Um… how long have we been walking?” Flight asked.

“The voice can’t’ve come from further away than this…” Scootaloo mumbled. She stopped in her tracks. “Okay, uh… Flight?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna do something that you’re probably going to think is weird, and I can explain later, but right now I just gotta do this.”

Flight gave her an odd look. “Um… okay?”

Scootaloo took a deep breath. “You there, Grey?” She waited for a few moments, and then stamped her hoof. Trying to ignore Flight’s increasing stare of confusion, she continued: “Seriously, Grey, I know you’re there. We don’t know what to do, and I could really use your help. We can trust Flight, I swear.”

She was about ready to throw her hoof up there to squash the bug, but luckily, she heard a buzz near her ear. The filly let out a sigh of relief when she saw the distinctive flash of light reflecting off the beetle’s chitinous shell.

“Wh-what’s that?” Flight stammered, watching the bug as it flew off of Scootaloo’s head and into the space in front of the two fillies. Before Scootaloo could respond, however, the bug had landed on the ground and had begun to glow with a silver light.

Scootaloo put a hoof up to shield her face from the momentary burst of blinding light. Once she saw it had subsided, she lowered her hoof and, to her immense joy, she was once more greeted with a grey stallion with a triangular cutie mark, standing about a head taller than her.

"Grey!" she exclaimed, sliding forward.

"Hey there, Scootaloo," he said softly, though his expression was rigid. He turned towards the other filly. "And it's good to finally make your acquaintance, Flight."

"Buh-huh?" Flight buh-huh'd, jaw having dropped. "What... who...?"

"No time to explain," Grey said, turning back to face the mist. "We're in danger just by staying here, and we've got to move. Follow me."

"There'll be no need for that," came a voice from the depths of the mist—the same voice from before that had told them to trot forward. "You can stay where you are, Argent."

"Anaxagor!" Grey swore. "Alright then. Come out where we can see you, and tell me what you want."

In response, the mist parted like the waters, and a shape began to take form before the three ponies.