The pillow muffled Pinkie’s cries. Her cries muffled the knocks and voices at her bedroom door.

She wanted them to go away. They couldn’t help; if she told them why she was upset, word would spread, and Twilight’s political meeting would be ruined. It would be Pinkie’s fault.

She couldn’t do that to her friend, but at the same time, she had stolen from another. She had butchered one of Fluttershy’s pets, and it was all for nothing. Pinkie just wanted to die.

“Eat me!” she’d shout to Glut. “You want pony meat? Then eat me. I don’t want to live anymore.”

He would still reject it. He’d find fault with Pinkie’s flesh and still take away Sugarcube Corner.

“Pinkie Pie!” said Mr. Cake on the other side of the door. “Are you okay? What happened to you?”

“Pinkie, sweety,” said Mrs. Cake. “Please let us in. We’d like to talk to you.”

“Go away. Just leave me to die!” shouted Pinkie. She regretted it immediately. That only made things worse; and it made her feel worse. She sunk her face back into the snot-and-tear-stained pillow and wailed.

Mr. and Mrs. Cake remained outside her door. They whispered to each other.

“What do you think happened to her?” said Mr. Cake.

“I don’t know, hun. I’m scared for her. She’s never been like this before.”

“What can we do?”

“Maybe she’ll talk to her friends,” said Mrs. Cake. “You go get Rarity. I’ll go see if I can find Fluttershy. Maybe they can comfort her.”

No!

Pinkie pushed off of her bed. A hoof got entangled in her bedspread, and she tumbled onto the floor.

“Pinkie! What’s going on in there?” shouted Mr. Cake. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, but it rattled against the lock, so he pounded on the door.

“Pinkie!” cried Mrs. Cake. “Are you alright in there? Are you hurt? Speak to me!”

The door opened in front of them. Pinkie ran through, shoved them aside, ran down the stairs, and out the front door.

She ran until her muscles ached. Until she didn’t know where she was. Until she couldn’t see straight.

The surrounding trees closed in on her. The branches with their craggy fingers reached out and pulled her mane. Bushes snared her ankles, and thorns scratched her skin.

“Liar,” whispered the trees.

“No!” She cried.

“Failure,” whispered the bushes.

“Leave me alone!”

“Murderer,” whispered the wind.

“I’m not! Please, leave me alone!”

A root jerked up from the ground and tripped her. She fell on her shoulder and her head bounced off the ground. She fought to keep her eyes open, but she couldn’t.

Everything went black.

---

When Pinkie woke up, her head ached. She brought up her hooves and rubbed her face. One side of her head was damp; she rolled onto her belly and rubbed the mucky hair. The stickiness was all over her hoof. She inspected her hoof, and what she saw made her sick.

Blood.

The side of her head was matted with blood. She pushed herself on her hooves. Her legs wobbled, and she fought to keep her balance. Slowly, her vision cleared, but her mind was still foggy.

She wanted to go home. But where was home? She tried to walk, but fumbled on the first step. Instead of exploring, she leaned against the nearest tree.

She couldn’t remember how she had gotten here; but why she had come here was engraved in her skull.

All around her, she saw trees reaching up for the sky. Above them were clouds with the slightest tinges of purple of the setting sun. To the west, there was the dying light of the day. Perhaps her last full day in Ponyville.

She drooped her head as she tried to think. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t know how much time she had left. All she knew was she had to make a pony into a pie, or ruin the lives of those she cherished the most. She would rather die than do either.

She hit her head against the tree. She hit harder. And harder. Kill me.

She slammed her head once more against the tree. “Just kill me!” she wailed and fell to the ground.

Curled up in the fetal position, all she could do was cry. If she was dead, she wouldn’t feel pain. She wouldn’t see the horror on her friends’ faces when they learned about her wrong-doings. She wouldn’t have to see Sugarcube Corner be demolished or the twins go hungry. Or worse.

These poisonous thoughts of death rotted her mind. She couldn’t think of anything else. But if she was dead, her friends would still have to deal with her passing. They might not learn about her betrayal, but she still would have ruined their lives. How would they mourn her passing? How would they be at her funeral? Would they bury her in the earth the traditional earth pony way in the Ponyville cemetery? How would--

Pinkie opened her eyes wide. Hey, wait a minute!

Hope filled her veins. There was a fourth option. She didn’t have to kill again, fail the Cakes or Twilight, nor did she have to kill herself. This idea--this sick, twisted, revolting idea--lifted a weight of Pinkie’s shoulders and gave her the strength to pick herself back up.

I don’t have to kill. I just need the body of a pony. A body a pony is no longer using!

With her renewed vigor, she pushed herself back up on her legs. Judging by the tall, organized trees, she could tell she wasn’t in the Everfree, but one of the other safer forests that dotted around Ponyville. If she was to guess, she was to the west of Ponyville.

Using the setting sun as her guide, she found her way back to Ponyville--covered in the darkness of night.

---

She was right. As the trees cleared, she could see Ponyville in the distance. She had come out of the wood behind Cheerilee’s schoolhouse.

Darkness had blanketed Ponyville by the time she arrived. Unlike the night before, the stars were obscured behind a layer of clouds. Under the shadow of the clouds, she should be able to get what she needed and do what she needed to do without running into a single pony.

She slipped into Ponyville.

---

Using bushes, barrels, and buildings as cover, Pinkie snuck to Sugarcube Corner.

It was easy enough to sneak onto Sweet Apple Acres and get a shovel, but Ponyville was another matter.

Her outburst had caused the whole town to panic, and ponies were out looking for her. Every other street had a guard or a friend on them. The pitch-black night was illuminated by their lanterns as they walked and flew through Ponyville.

Still, she managed to make it home without being caught.

The lights were on in Sugarcube Corner. The Cakes must have still been up. No doubt worried sick about her.

Why did this have to be so hard?

She slunk around the back and peered in through the kitchen window. Nopony was in. She left the shovel on the ground next to the door, crept in, and switched off the light. Under the cover of darkness, she grabbed the cooler from before.

As she filled it with ice from the refrigerator, she heard voices coming from upstairs. It was Mrs. Cake crying. Her sobs echoed down the stairs and into Pinkie’s heart. Tears welled up in her eyes.

She mustn’t dilly-dally. But still, she couldn’t help but inch towards the door and listen.

“Why? What could have caused her to run off like that? We love her, and she knows that. Why wouldn’t she let us in?”

Pinkie wiped away her tears and sniffed. She wanted to run to Mrs. Cake. Give her a big hug and make her stop crying.

“Mrs. Cake, I’m sure she’s alright.”

Pinkie froze. That voice.

“How could she possibly be alright, Fluttershy? You weren’t there, you didn’t see the look on her face. You didn’t hear her crying.”

“You’re right,” said Fluttershy calmly. “I wasn’t there, but Pinkie is a tough girl. I’m sure she just needs a bit of alone time. When she is ready, she’ll come back home to us.”

Pinkie took a step backwards. No.

“How can you say that? She’s out there alone. She needs us.”

“If we were to force her to tell us what’s wrong, she’d resist. Even if she knows we’re trying to help her, she will still feel that we are trying to pry into her when she’s at her most vulnerable. If we truly want to help her recover, we need to wait for her to be ready to open up to us.”

Pinkie shook with frustration. She couldn’t stand to listen to them any more. Too quickly, she spun around to leave. A hoof kicked the cooler and it tipped over. Ice spilled out all over the floor. She flinched.

Horseapples!

“Who’s that?! Pinkie Pie, is that you?” The clopping of Mrs. Cake’s hooves echoed upstairs.

Pinkie scooped up as much ice as she could. As the clops reached the steps, she abandoned the rest of the ice, threw a knife into the cooler, put it on her back, and ran outside. She didn’t bother to shut the door.

With the cooler on her back and the shovel in her mouth, she ran into the nearest darkened alleyway. Behind her, she could hear Mrs. Cake crying out her name.

---

The clouds above veiled the moon from the ground below. The only light in the night where the lanterns moving through the streets of Ponyville. They were barely visible this far out of town.

Separated from the rest of town, the Ponyville Cemetery was located on a low, flat plain to the North. There was no iron fence to keep ponies out. It was always open to those who wished to visit loved ones passed.

Pinkie, with her back to Ponyville, walked along the tombstones. Some of them were the standard slab of concrete, upright with a rounded top. Others were like plaques that came up to her knee. A few from the more wealthy families had carvings. Tall spires that pointed to the heavens above. On all of the stones, the names, dates, and cutie marks of the ponies below were engraved. Some even had loving send-offs chiseled in by the ones they left behind.

If she had been there for other reasons, she would have taken the time to read the stones, even admire the detailed carvings of the cutie marks. But she avoided them. She didn’t want to know their names. She didn’t want to see them as equine. She came with the intent of defiling one of the graves, and she’d sleep better not knowing whom she disturbed.

With her eyes focused on the ground, she passed each grave. The ones completely covered with grass she passed without a second glance. She went through several rows before she came upon one where the dirt was exposed. Only a few fresh blades of grass grew on the dirt.

Fresh.

So must have been the body below.

She looked at the date listed on the tombstone. She deemed it recent enough. Turning her back to the tombstone so she wouldn’t risk learning the pony’s name or cutie mark, she placed her cooler to the side and started digging.

The dirt was soft and loose. Within a few minutes, she already found herself about a foot deep. She had no idea how much farther she had to dig. The deeper she went, the more time elapsed. The more time elapsed, the greater the risk of a pony spotting her became. The greater the risk became, the more Pinkie stressed. She didn’t know what she would do if she got caught, and she didn’t want to think about it.

After digging until the hole was shoulder high, the head of the shovel hit something with a wooden thump. She found the coffin. Using her hoof, she wiped away the loose dirt until she found an edge of the light-brown casket. She jammed the shovel between the lid and the bottom of the coffin and pushed down on the handle. The wood creaked as the nails holding the lid in place were pried out of their holes. The smell of death bled out of the gap.

The shovel tip slipped out of the wedge, and Pinkie fell on the shovel and rolled onto the coffin. She moaned as the curved edges of shovel dug into her sides. She pushed herself up and picked up the shovel again. She jammed the shovel underneath the lid again, and this time she found more purchase. With all her weight, she gave a mighty push, and the lid popped off. A whoosh of trapped gas escaped through the large opening and blew into Pinkie’s face. She gagged and plopped her torso onto the grass outside of the hole, where she hacked and heaved. She took a deep breath of fresh air before submerging back into the grave. She lifted the hexagonal lid and leaned it against the side of the whole.

Inside the coffin was the body of an earth pony stallion. His body was surrounded by pictures of his loved ones, a pocket watch that must have been a special personal belonging, and a horseshoe. The top of his head was pointing east, as all earth ponies lie in their final rest. They go to the great fields of Elysium by rising with the morning sun. His body was laid in the fetal position, just as he had been shortly after he was born. His eyes were closed, as if he were sleeping. The color of his fur was a pale yellow. His mane was a pale brown. Both paler than when he had been alive. With the life that left his body, so did his color, his magic...

Pinkie looked down at the stallion’s flank.

... so did his cutie mark.

Never before had Pinkie seen a dead body. She wished she would never see one ever again.

At least she was one step closer. She didn’t need the whole body, just enough meat to fill a pie tin. A slab from his flank would do.

As she tried to climb out to get her knife, the dirt gave way under her hoof, and she slipped backwards. Her back hoof hit the body, and she flinched. Frantically, she dug her way out of the pit. When she got out, she turned back and looked down into the grave.

The body had moved, but only slightly. Not his limbs or head, but as a whole.

His body felt so stiff.

She breathed heavily through her dry mouth. Shivers ran down her body. She felt unclean. Repulsed. Contaminated. No bath would ever make her clean again. Now wasn’t the time to be concerned with that. She had already lost her purity. She’d mourn it when she had the time. Right now, she had to get what she came for and--

“Hey! Hey, you!”

Pinkie jumped and snapped her head toward the voice.

Outside the cemetery was a pony holding a lantern, and she was running toward her.

Oh no. Pinkie snatched up her cooler and ran. The pony behind her gave chase.

“Wait! Wait up!”

No! Leave me alone! Go away. GO AWAY!

Pinkie galloped through the cemetery and weaved between tombstones, but she couldn’t lose the pony behind her. Once she made it out of the cemetery, she made a beeline for the nearby forest. Under the darkness of the starless night and the blanket of trees, she’d be able to escape.

She ran as fast as her shaking legs would let her. The trees grew above her, like pillars of black against a grey sky. The shadows engulfed her as she passed the first of them. She made it.

A cragged root was in her way, and she jumped to avoid it. The cooler on her back fell off, and she froze in her tracks. Her heart stopped as the pony’s lantern grew closer and washed away the darkness concealing her. She couldn’t leave the cooler. They could trace it and the knife inside back to Sugarcube Corner. Back to her. They’d know she was the one that dug up the grave. Everything she done would have been exposed.

She jumped on the cooler and snatched it up. She turned to run until--

“Pinkie!? Pinkie! It’s you! Please, wait up!”

No.

She’d been found out. All the fight in her disappeared. She lacked the energy to stand and plopped down in defeat. The cooler tipped over and the lid popped off, spilling ice on the ground.

She watched the shadows ahead of her retreat as the pony and her lantern came up from behind.

“Pinkie! There you are!”

She buried her face in the dirt. She wanted to hide. Be swallowed up by the earth and never be seen again.

The clopping came closer. When the mare was only a few feet from her, she stopped.

“Pinkie? What are you doing out here? Everypony’s worried sick about you.”

Pinkie cried into the dirt.

“Come on. Let’s go home. The Cakes miss you terribly. Your friends spent the whole day looking for you. Twilight even sent out half her guard to look for you.”

The words penetrated Pinkie’s defenses. She doubled down and curled up tighter in her grave.

Pinkie felt the mare touch her shoulder. Electricity shocked her spine. “Pinkie, please. Come with me back to--”

“Don’t touch me!”

She jumped off the ground and smacked the hoof away. The mare’s face was clearly visible in the lantern’s light. She’d recognize that mint-green coat and those golden eyes anywhere. It was Lyra. She stared at her wide-eyed and took a few steps back from Pinkie.

Pinkie shivered. “Lyra…”

Lyra nodded. “Yes, Pinkie. It’s me. Please let me -- Pinkie! Your head! You’re bleeding! Come on, let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

Her eyes. Pinkie couldn’t stand them. She focused on a spot on the ground and didn’t look at her. Lyra stepped forward and reached out to touch Pinkie’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” Pinkie growled. After that, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t move. All she did was ignore every plea Lyra made until she shut up.

The two of them stood there in silence. Their stand-off was only disturbed by the occasional attempt of Lyra getting closer to her. Each time, Pinkie flinched back, as if she was ready to flee, and Lyra would quickly back off. They stayed this way for a half an hour.

Hatred welled up in Pinkie’s stomach. Why? Why did Lyra have to find me? How dare she look for me. I was close. So close to solving all my problems. Then she comes by and ruins everything. She had to fumble along into the cemetery. Who checks a cemetery for a missing pony? Pinkie gnashed her teeth. What in Tartarus is she doing out anyway? She said that Twilight sent out half the guard to look for me. That’s more than enough to look for a missing pony. Why did she decide to go out and look for me too?

“Please, Pinkie…”

Pinkie looked up from the corner of her eyes. If she wants to help so badly…

Pinkie licked her dry lips. “Lyra,” she said quietly.

Lyra leaned forward.

“There… there is something I need to show you.” Pinkie got up, took a few steps into the woods, then looked over her shoulder. “It’s over here.”

Lyra picked up her lantern and followed Pinkie into the darkness.