The world came into view in a careful crescendo of color, blossoming forth into the lush hues of early fall. Shapes the followed the hues as lines and forms began overtaking the messy dispersion forcing them to hold coherence and made visual sense at last. Before Zeccaran fuzzy grass gained its own strands and leaves started blowing across the empty meadow he now found himself occupying. He strode forward confidently finally accustomed to the lack of physical connection to the subconscious world that an observer possessed and peered across the field to find the past version of himself and Gusty trotting slowly towards a broad pond on the other side of the forest-cloaked pasture. On the farthest side of clearing well past the placid body of water there were tiny lights of houses tucked away in the forest. A large knobby mountain pushing itself up in the distance completed the landscape.

“Ahh yes. The forest near Hollow Shades, lovely place really. Certainly a rather calm picturesque land. It still irks me that Foal Mountain is egregiously tainted with the evil of the Cult of the Night. The fact that I was once one of their lead members doesn’t help anything either. Frankly, I just wish Luna had left that portion out of my memories...if Gusty ever found out everything, I’d be dead in my stripes!”

The smell of leaves and dirt blew up as the wind rushed from the north. The vague smells of a bakery nipped at his nose. The hints of pastries were quickly knocked away as more wind lay flat the grass of the clearing and the smell of forest returned instantly. Gusty stood before him awkwardly shifting from her left to right as if she hoped that something would happen. Rustling of his dream counterpart drew his attention away from the mare.

“Hey.” He looked out over the lake. “We could go fishing. Though fish aren’t always very tasty.” Gusty simply nodded in agreement at his words His past attempt at generating excitement was genuine judging by the awkward smile, but perhaps a touch misguided. The blustery condition of the field almost made him shiver from the familiar feeling of the memory.

“Hmm...I just noticed that when it's my memory or dream I don’t observe it from my point of view like I did when I jumped into Gusty’s by mistake. Strange, I wonder why that is? I guess the reason is because it is my memory and I can choose how to view it...odd that I was in third-pony view as a default. Oh well. Kinda interesting to look at things this way.”

Dried leaves blew by the two ponies of the past some bouncing off their hooves. Zeccaran watched Gusty carefully as she followed the brown greeneries with her head. They whisked away but not before he noticed something curious among them. A piece of parchment flew about the leaves. They zipped by Gunther who took notice and chased the grouping biting and barking at them as the wind slowly calmed. Gunther caught the leaves and the wayward paper. He began chewing right as Gusty and her curiosity reacted to save the parchment

Running after the timberwolf, “No, no, no! Bad dog!” she shrieked. Lifting Gunther up and shaking him about with her telekinesis she grimaced angrily. He yipped and howled in shock but managed to hang on the paper. He had followed Gusty and found that it was the old wanted poster of himself.

“Let go, Gunther!” Gusty cried. “I want to read that!” Gunther stubbornly maintained his grip and even managed to lose a short growl before Gusty resumed her telekinetic shaking.

“Bit off more than you could chew Gunther, ol’ buddy ol’ pal. Heheheh.”

Seemingly unaware of what Gusty was doing, Past-Zeccaran strolled up to the poor flipping hound and waited. Gusty stopped shaking Gunther, her face betraying her befuddled mind. When he settled, floating next to his master Zeccaran stated plainly and without anger. “Give.”

In response Gunther opened his jowls and the poster dropped down slimily into Zeccaran’s outstretched hoof. Dumbfounded, Gusty looked on jaw agape as he stretched out the chewed document. He read it, shrugged, and tossed it over his shoulder. The wind caught its outstretched sides and whipped it towards the alicorn. Before she could think to dodge it the now cold, gooey poster slapped Gusty in the face.

“Bullseye! Way to go past me! Ohhh! I needed this so bad right now!”

Instantly she dropped Gunther from her telekinesis to which he responded with a relieved sounding bark. Gusty struggled valiantly with the rogue poster only narrowly removing it before it claimed victory. The poster was completely disgusting, Zeccaran could even smell it through the dream as it produced the stench of acid reflux and rotten meat that only dog breath could. Gusty turned a vibrant green as she held the viscous paper away from with her telekinesis. Both the observer and past-self laughed at Gusty some more as she scowled at the poster doing her best to ignore the situation.

Zeccaran struggling to remember what the poster had said exactly strode up to where Gusty was holding it and tried to lean over her shoulder to read it. Instead of touching flesh he phased clean through the memory mare and shrieked in surprise and horror. He caught himself on the ground and breathed heavily as he calmed himself from the intense disorientation he had just experienced.

“Okay. Note to self: The subconscious dream world has no physical form and you can walk right through the ponies you are observing...no matter how real they look. Phew! By the stars that was most unpleasant!”

He gathered himself up and stood inside the image of Gusty and read the poster as himself, looking younger and less weathered. Below it still covered in Gunther’s slobber were smudged words indicating: “Wanted for special questioning, Dead or Alive: 500,000 bits Alive, 500 Bits Dead. Deliver to Canterlot” written in that old ridiculous wild-west font style

He stepped quickly out of Gusty before turning up to look at her hoping to distract himself from the empty existential feeling of walking through his friend. Her face was pinched in a perfect suspicious glare as she looked between the poster and Past-Zeccaran. Perhaps she was merely pondering why the petitioner would still take a dead body like he was, then again she did not have the meta knowledge he did viewing this event from the future. The patron had turned out to be none other that Stormwalker himself. However, he had not found that out until Luna had mentioned it during a surprise visit a few days after he had woken up in Canterlot Castle back when Gusty had helped break the memory charm on Celestia. That was another whole can of worms that he ignored by shaking his head until his ears started ringing.

When he looked back to Gusty in his memory world, she gave a shrug and tossed the poster over her shoulder, as she scrunched up her nose in a mixed emotion of disdain, confusion, and apathy. The voucher had other plans than just flying away, after being flung he watched as it curved back towards the group. Past-Zeccaran did not see it coming as it looped past him and covered up his whole snout and mouth with a disgusting squishing sound. He gagged remembering what it felt like to be choked by a slobbery paper as his counterpart flailed about like an idiot. Next to him Gusty to burst into laughter. She quickly was rolling on the ground clutching poorly at her sides while he watch himself continue to flip about and lose oxygen. She eventually gained enough composure to use her telekinesis to remove the poster.

“Karma sucks. And this was a prime example.”

He watched rather angrily as Gusty teased him, unable to defend his past actions. Eventually white stripes returned to his counterpart’s face replacing the purple they had become. Gusty sat there and snickered at him as Gunther came by to like his face dumbly. Silence overtook the memory as they sat there idly.

“I’m going to sleep for a few hours!” Gusty suddenly declared. Both Zeccarans shrugged and watched her unload her things. Gusty unfastened her pack and let it fall to the ground, visibly letting her haunches and flanks relax from carrying the weight of her camping equipment. She dug around in the pack until she found her rolled sleeping bag. She grabbed it in her mouth and tossed it to the ground, simultaneously untying the strings that kept it rolled.

“I guess I’ll just sit here...alone?” Past-Zeccaran asked pitifully.

“Sure, you can meditate or read without me trying to steal one of your scrolls or poke you in the belly!” Gusty smiled.

“Oh, I remember that! She took both the scroll and held me down with her magic while she tickled me, laughing like she was some type of lunatic the whole time. Then again...she is some type of lunatic. I had just wanted to read-but noooo!”

“Yeeeeeah. I could!” he responded his voice turned from its usual dull sarcasm to a higher, happier sound. “Go on then! Take your nap. I have the most excellent applied magic theory text to read!” he ordered, reaching into his ratty bag without casting another gaze at Gusty. She watched briefly as he pulled a small nearly torn apart book out from the bag and plopped it down on the grass. He opened to random page and practically stuffed his whole snout into its miniature pages.

“Yeah, that’s a good book...didn’t I loan it to Amethyst recently? I wonder how much she had read into it.”

Gusty busied herself with her sleeping bag which for some reason was several sizes too big even for her. She plucked it open and flopped down with a whoosh! of the grass, leaving him to read in peace.

“Where did she get that giant thing anyway? Its big enough for me, her, and Gunther with room to spare. Wait what’s happening? I don’t read that fast! Pretty fast but not like that!”

The world around him burst into an frenzied flurry. Above him the sun began to march across the sky in a fast motion as fast as seconds ticking on a clock. His image began moving pages in the book at such a blistering pace that it was not but a blur of white. The sky above slowed finally turning the bright yellow and light-blue of afternoon. The transition shocked the memory into a normal state of time leaving the observer equally stunned by the various dilations and contractions of time.

“What the hell was that? Was that you Dream Overlords? No? Then who decided to make it impossible to re-read my favorite Magical Physics book?! By Luna, I wish I had better control over this damned thing!”

Before him the the other Zeccaran closed the book with a thwmp! He had finished the book and now sat there idly hoofing the ground. He looked up towards Gusty his eyes betraying his distrust of her resting posture.

“That was a good read.” he said aloud while maintaining his suspicious glare. Gusty did not budge. In fact she continued to lightly snore in her girly way as if he had not spoken so loudly. His counterpart remained sitting and staring at Gusty in disbelief for a solid minute before standing up giving a shrug and a brief rub of his rump before walking towards the line of trees. He poked about idly gathering up kindling and various branches to make a fire. He slowly piled them up and after a brief stint a small blaze began burning. On his last trip before sitting down there was a sudden rustling of leaves amongst the underbrush broke the peaceful silence of the meadow.

Past-Zeccaran swiveled his head around like mad trying to discern the location of the noise. Seeing nothing Zeccaran looked over at Gunther, to see of the timberwolf was intrigued by the noise, but the wooden canine lay on his side calmly blinking, staring off into the distance. He sat down and began watching the fire after relaxing his legs and pulling the book back out. The observer got up next to his past self and angrily looked over his shoulder, unwilling to stride through the image.

“He’s in the bushes you idiot! He’s gonna hop out and kick your ass! Come on! Just get up! Don’t sit there! I can’t believe myself sometimes. Oh, just open the book back up sure! Hey wait, written by Twilight Sparkle and G.A.S. huh. I guess my mysterious benefactor has the favor of at least one of Equestria’s Princesses!”

A twig snapping jerked Past-Zeccaran’s head up from the book. The pair of zebra’s were clearly able to see the source of the noise this time. A big Earth Pony stood a short distance away towards the forest. He carried a huge single headed axe, its blade as long and as wide as Zeccaran’s chest. Hs body adorned spiked steel armor, pulsed with an obnoxious amount of muscles beneath a dark brown-red coat. He wore no helmet, but instead was covered in blue body paint that made intricate swirl patterns on his face and neck. It clashed harshly with his puce-red mane; perhaps the lack of color coordination provoked the inner artist of Zeccaran’s animal companion. Immediately, Gunther jumped up and began barking at the interloper. Zeccaran looked to see if Gusty would wake. She remained snoring, loudly, unaware of the happenings outside her dreams. The observer backed away from his foolish past-self huffing as he did.

“I’m still mad she slept through it. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it either. Well, go on Bunker, kick my butt, get it over with.”

A throaty yell made the zebra look back up at the stallion, pitting the axe in his mouth he charged at his quarry. Past-Zeccaran sat frozen, a look of terror and panic quickly growing and his face. WIth good reason, he did not have any of his equipment on him, it lay on the other side of the fire in a pile. He only had some of his most rudimentary magic to defend himself. Bunker had almost closed to axe range when Gunther jumped in front of him. The brute half-bellowed half-grumbled something unintelligible and batted Gunther away with the long handle of his axe. He briefly looked directly at the fool still on the ground. His fierce green eyes expressing even now one thing very clearly to the zebra. I’m going to kill you. Past-Zeccaran timidly squeaked as he cast a final glance at Gusty.

“Wow. I squeaked. I literally squeaked in fear. Hah-Oh well, at least I made it through.”

A flashing of green light distracted him from his self-criticism. The stretching and moaning of wood and grass echoed across the clearing as the plant life sprang into action. Tall grass tied itself in wads around the stallion's legs forcing him to a stop his charge. He struggled but remained bound.

“Yes! It worked!” his counterpart cheered from a barely safe distance. He stuck his tongue defiantly out at the trapped bandit. The stallion responded by starting to chop away the grass with his axe. Leaving Zeccaran to mumble an “uh oh” before scrambling over to the somehow still snoozing Gusty.

He bent down next to her and began trying to shake her awake: “Gusty! Gusty, get up!” He tried in vain. The alicorn mare only partially stirred, and began snoring again. This time she did so with her mouth open, drool and snores pouring out without effort. Grimacing, Zeccaran rushed over to grab his sickle before Bunker freed himself. He reached his pack and grabbed the weapon with his mouth just as a tremendous bellow exited the vagabond.

He gave a great swing of his axe, cutting away the defiant weeds before casting a displeased snarl in Past-Zeccaran’s direction. He snorted angrily readying to charge again. Gunther interceded at that moment. The timberwolf had made a good lunge for Bunker’s neck but was thwarted by bad aim and Bunker’s general ability to see. The stallion sidestepped the attack and began a gallop towards Zeccaran. Gunther went flying into the living weeds and proceeded to be stuck there grasped by the plants.

“Dis time no cheating!” he growled before again yelling out his battle cry. He charged clean over the top of the past’s image before turning about swinging his axe downward. The observer watched on, barely recalling how he had stood up in time to dodge being cloven in two. He was even more surprised when Past-Zeccaran slashed at a gap in Bunker’s shoulder plating. The old sickle hit flesh and sent blood down the stallion’s armor as he jumped away yelping in pain and surprise.

“Wow, me! Kinda have it together when I’m not trying to fight demi-gods or spectres of the past. Hold up. I lost this fight though. I remember that very clearly. Let’s see, charge him while his axe is stuck. Yeah! Good hit! Aaaaaand he knocked me to the ground...readied his axe...I scream-”

“NO! NO! DAMNIT NOT LIKE THIS!” his voice cracked and echoed off of the trees around the edge of the clearing.

“And cue Gusty.”

True to form a powerful yawn caused both stallions to look towards the mare in question. She stretched up out of her sleeping bag, loudly smacking her lips. She game another yawn as she scratched her head and turned to look over at them eyes still half closed.

“Zeccaran. I heard you suffering...awhhhh….” Gusty yawned a third time. “So I woke up so I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Note to self number three: Gusty can literally feel my pain and suffering through the ether. If I ever need her..just start feeling really bad, or get really hurt. Great prospects there.”

“Ohhh...pretty mare…” The Bunker cooed from above his counterpart. He dropped his axe completely and out right ogled Gusty. The zebra looked on in confusion as his female counterpart completely hammed it up.

“Pretty?” Gusty asked. “I always thought I was only average.” she emphasized in her melodramatic Gusty way. She pushed the front of her sleeping bag up against her face and neck, hiding playfully behind it. Meanwhile the vagabond emitted a droning “duhhhh” while staring in the most awestruck fashion Zeccaran had conceivably seen. Then again that was pretty much how all stallions reacted to Gusty. Even Stormwalker had broken his restrained mannerisms to smile while judging her form. The only trouble was Gusty knew what she looked like and was, in fact, not above using it to gain leverage over males.

“You really think I am, big boy?” She purred. Zeccaran watched with growing concern as Gusty’s countenance began to glow with all of her female charm. Her hips shook playfully underneath her sleeping bag. Her pupils dilated, and she pushed out her lips in a pout. He had only see her like this once before, when she had coerced the conductor to give her access to the other half of the bunkroom he had rented on the train. It had worked then, and it definitely worked on Bunker.

“Beautifool goddess! Please let me worship ye! Forgiff me for waking you from your slumber!” he proclaimed in his broken Equestrian. He fell forward hooves extended in front of him. The brute buried his face in the grass and began muttering incoherent apologies.

“Come on, Bunker! You are better than this! She’s just pretty! It’s not like she is casting spells on you to make you adore her...although I wouldn’t put it past her. Very vain mare, that Gusty Twilight. I suppose that is why she is always so perturbed when she can’t persuade me or old demon-pegasus with her looks alone. Not that Gusty isn’t gorgeous, far from it, I guess it just doesn’t work on stallions who have had their mind made up about what to do and how to behave...speaking for myself of course.”

“Goddess, I am not wooorhty. I am not wooorthy. Not wooorthy!” Bunker chanted as Gusty cautiously paced towards him, a devious, satisfied smile growing on her face.

“Rise, my dear stallion. Do not fret for or fear your goddess.” Gusty proclaimed in the most magnificent set of rolled consonants. The vagabond slowly rose and looked at Gusty, his eyes rapt with anticipation. She extended her left hoof. He grabbed it and kissed it gently, falling again to the ground.

A loud thump! drew the observer back to his past self. Past-Zeccaran had fallen down on his back and was now staring blankly at the sky. He laid there comatose, eyes totally unblinking as Gusty slowly worked on Bunker’s inability to stand. Meanwhile, finally free from the grass that had trapped him, Gunther walked over to his master and licked his face only to recieve no response. Zeccaran turned away from watching his dog lick his past-self’s eyes to a fully formed scene of Gusty and Bunker. He was equally happy and amazed that his aural memory had been good enough to project what he saw now which simply was Gusty trying to smack Bunker into regular behavior. That seemed to be their usual way of resolving erratic actions, simply hit the perpetrator upside the head.

“Not that I would have done anything different even now. Gusty’s influence on others is sometimes just too frustrating to handle. Only reason I didn’t fall down like that again is because I’m kinda deadened to it these days, still feel pretty perturbed though.”

“Tell me then, my dear, what is your name?” Gusty asked Bunker who was finally able to act coherently. He performed a half-bow, bringing his left front hoof up to his chest. He lowered his head. His deep voice reciting his name, family and station.

“I am Bunker. Journeyman of clan Junkerson. I am fulfilling my sacred and traditional oath to seek glory and fame in the world of ponies, away from the Great Forest.”

“The Great Forest? It has been some time since I’ve been there.” Gusty mused aloud. It was clear that she could not recall the last time she had visited that easterly place. However, Bunker, as it were, was quick to remind her.

“It is as it was told to us goddess! A hero from the fatherland would venture forth and find you again. You told us yourself, Mistress! The legend has been passed down for seven-hundred years. Ten generations have searched! and...and...I…found...you.” Bunker stammered out jaw returning to its slack position.

“Huh. Where hasn’t Gusty been? At least it makes sense to me now why Bunker followed her so willingly. She’s his local folk legend! Then again...she was also my tribe’s...and-and I swear there was a book about her fighting during Equestria’s founding...like a children’s book? Eh, don’t remember, point is: Gusty is old and just as flamboyant as she ever was evidently”

Gusty giggled in that telling way that meant she liked somepony. She was often quite forward about who and what she desired, Zeccaran actually rather appreciated that, it made her predictable, somewhat anyway. He watched as Bunker slowly recovered from starting through Gusty and into some mystical land of grandeur. The mare in question continued to laugh at him as the stallion cleared his throat and grumbled half-hearted condolences to cover up his embarrassment.

“You know, Bunker, you are pretty alright. Very amusing, good at fighting, can smack Zeccaran around for me...I wouldn’t mind if you tagged along. I could use some muscle around here.” Gusty said seductively.

“Really laying it on thick there, eh, Gusty?”

“Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I wilt help! I wilt follow!” Bunker answered scooching towards Gusty on his knees. He bit his lips and looked eagerly at her, his eyes dazzling with admiration for his “goddess.”

“Good. But let’s get one thing straight.” Gusty’s tone shifted serious. “I am not a goddess. I’m just a mare. An alicorn, yes, but I am no different than anypony else, and if you are to come along you need to stop groveling. Otherwise I will get bored with you and send you packing back to that forest you said I visited some...seven-hundred years ago you said? I don’t even remember being there, a part of me knows you are right, but...there is nothing I can remember. Okay?”

“Is...is that modesty? Real modesty this time? I’ll be a giraffe’s cousin. So all that is just an act, a part of her personality. I guess I shouldn’t take her jabs so seriously then, she is just doing it because we are friends and knows I can take it. I guess that’s why she drug me on this adventure in the first place, and why she always asks me my opinion. What a curious way to make friends.”

Bunker bowed his head deeply in response to Gusty’s speach before jerking it up with scared revelation on his face. He balked about opening his mouth only saying half words: “Seven hun-...er. I...but uhm. Argh….Please, forgive me, god-”

“Gusty. Please forgive me, Gusty.” she cut him off. Zeccaran rolled his eyes as he watched the stallion blush, glad he had missed it during the actual moment. He probably would have slapped the big lug had he known about it then. He cast a glance back over to where his past-self lay spread eagle on the ground still staring into the sky with a distressed and confused look on his face. The observer gave a shrug and looked back at Gusty and Bunker who were busy discussing his various deeds.

“Why you travel with wanted criminal?” Bunker towards the comatose version of Zeccaran..

“Zeccaran? A criminal? Pshhh. He doesn’t have the stomach for something like that. In fact he has been really helpful with apprehending a group of robbers and one very, very evil pie.” Gusty said, clearly unable to imagine Zeccaran doing anything harmful to anypony or anything. “I saw the poster. He’s wanted for questioning. Not for anything beyond that. It's actually really weird.” she continued making a thoughtful look.

“I am glad you don’t even have an inkling, Gusty. I really am, some of the things I have done...they are unforgivable, even for you. That’s why I have to help you...why I have to do something right before I find the end of my proverbial rope. Ahh...I love existential moments like that. Not.”

“Oh!...Oh...that what it said. I know numbers but I can’t read Equestrian.” Bunker proclaimed. His eyes sparkling with recognition. “I thought money was for body...heh. If he is your friend I hope he is okay…”

“Don’t worry about it. He will be fine.” Gusty patronized him with a flash of her eyelashes. “But fresh food would be very nice. If you wouldn’t mind” she made sure to have her lips extra pouty.

“You know what: I take it back! I’m doing things in spite of her! And the next time she drags me out of my lab...ohhhhh!... at least Bunker pretended to care! Even if she does she certainly refused to show it, even when I’m over there lying on the ground in a partial coma!”

Bunker buzzed away from Gusty in the next instant. He retrieved a bag of things from the bushes he had jumped out of earlier. He returned to the fire with a blistering pace and assembled a fishing rod with such precision that it practically bent space-time. In the next instant he was over fishing. Zeccaran had to fight nausea as the world sped up even faster. Meanwhile Gusty and his past-self slept peacefully.

“Come on! Slow down! Who is driving this crazy thiiiinnnnng!”

The smell of frying fish, hay, and wild onions drew filled the air by the time Zeccaran opened up his eyes. It was the sort of mouth watering smell of wild and fresh made food that made a pony hungry. The sun was beginning to set in the west and set as a half-disk on the top of the tree line. The food also had to addition effect of lowering the nausea down to a much more manageable level. His main regret was that he was not able to eat the faux dream food, even though his stomach growled at the recollection of the smell.

Bunker was stirring a pot that hung over the fire that had a pile of fish skins, scales, and bad meat set next to him. The concoction he had in the pot billowed steam as he smiled happily behind the vapors. He shot proud a smirk at Gusty once he noticed her sitting up from her bedroll.

A gasp of surprise made everypony look to her left. Past-Zeccaran was sitting up staring at Bunker. At first the he looked on in horror, however it rapidly changed to confusion. Immediately following, he looked as if he would begin to cry, then he loosed a long sigh and stood up.

“Yep. That’s right, me. Big, deep breath, let it go...just grab some food use sarcasm and just repress and let it go, nothing you can do about it anyway. Goooood.”

He cast a glance at Gusty as he walked up to Bunker’s pot. He seemed resigned as he looked at her, nothing more. Gusty couldn’t help but smile at him. “So whatcha cookin’?” He said dryly turning back to Bunker, completely dodging her grin of glee.

“Excellent use of the sarcasm, I give myself an A-plus for that one!”

“Hello, striped one. Making fish stew. Is good.” Bunker replied, seemingly not bothered by his previous quarry’s attitude.

“It does smell pretty good.” Past-Zeccaran said closing his eyes and rubbing his left temple with a hoof. “So, just to check you aren’t trying to kill me anymore right? This isn’t poisoned with something that will kill me but not little miss sleepyhead over there right? Seriously, I need to make sure I’m not hallucinating.” he looked fairly desperate by the end of his questions. He kept looking between Gusty and Bunker waiting for either to answer.

“This was one of those moments I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Bunker began to chuckle. He raised a spoonful of the stew up to his lips, carefully balancing the utensil on the flat of his hoof. He slurped loudly as if intentionally to emphasize its savory taste. “Nope. I misread poster. You worth more alive.” he uttered matter-of-factly.

“Oh good. Wait what?” his past-self did a double take.

Trying to snicker over the noise her growling stomach, Gusty hopped up and trotted over to the pot herself. “Yep. You didn’t read that poster very well did you?” She breathed as she absorbed the smell longingly, waiting with a curious look towards her companion..

“No, I did. But, but...I didn’t think anyone would actually be trying to track down the bounty, though!” the past-zebra answered face still distraught.

“No pony would be dragging me to Canterlot except them. And anypony who would try to separate me from these two headaches would rue their foolish decision. That didn’t stop Gusty from teasing me though. Or pulling this next stunt. To this day...I’m still not sure if they were serious or not. Even if they are actually engaged now.”

“Well, Bunker and I decided to take you to Canterlot ourselves.” She smiled and winked at Bunker. Briefly a spark of recognition lit Bunker’s eyes, followed by a mischievous grin as he came around the fire to stand next her

“Da. We split award fifty-fifty. She gets all gold, I get new marefriend!” He nodded sagely and nudged her side with his leg. Gusty looked over to him with surprise, while the observer just rolled his eyes. There was no way Gusty would not go along with it. It had bothered him too much in the moment. Bunker clearly knew this, judging by his clever grin and was either some type of psychological genius or luckiest stallion of all time, having the situation just fall into his lap.

They unlikely pair continued to tease Past-Zeccaran until Gusty tried the stew that Bunker had made. It took her all of two seconds to drain the bowl and then go and stick her head directly in the cooking pot, foregoing any sense of decency as she slurped up the food loudly. Both the observing and participating zebras shook their heads at Gusty’s inability to control her stomach. By the time Gusty fell away from the stew’s container she laid flat on her back slightly bloated from the sheer volume of soup she had consumed in such a short time. It was not much longer that Bunker began rubbing her belly in response and the memory and the real deal rolled their eyes in perfect tandem that only a being that was the same person in the same moment could manage. Then again, it was easy to roll one’s eyes at Gusty and her shenanigans, she was an extravagant lunatic with impulsive behavior. It was surely a long series of miracles that had kept her from getting herself killed. If she was truly as old as she was supposed to be Zeccaran had some strong reservations on the cruel fate had allowed her to make it to him, especially since she was now his keeper.

The sun had finished setting by the time the party had completed eating and relaxing. Zeccaran looked over his past self with a dull blanketed ire:

“How exactly did I think that just waiting around would be okay? I haven’t been this mad with myself in a good long while! I don’t understand why I didn’t feel what Chrysanthemum and the Cult were doing that night. I just laze away not caring until the drained souls of those poor ponies came floating by to spread the misery of Nyx and all her pomps. And to think those three were only the pre-ritual, the practice; really it’s no wonder when I completed the ritual the next night and the errant goddess of darkness herself came into the motral plane. Oh, how I wish I had been more careful, paid closer attention, or maybe just remembered enough to stop what happened. Arghh...Too late now, but maybe it was all for the better. It certainly got me my comfy lab here in Canterlot...whenever it is that I’ll wake back up in it.”

The slow, low groaning of the dead Gusty to snap up her head from where it rested haughtily on Bunker’s barrel. She looked around the now darkened camp looking through the fresh evening’s shroud before jumping up and drawing her sword with her telekinesis “Did you hear that?” she asked quietly over the faint hum of her magic

“No?” responded the past Bunker and Zeccaran in unison.

“I don’t know what it was but it sounded unfriendly.” she told them.

“Hey where did the stars go?” Zeccaran commented, as he came up next to her.

“Managed to notice that didn’t I? Nailed it! Pffft. Not like it’s a terrible unnatural darkness caused by the cursed practice ritual that just finished taking place or anything.”

Gusty looked out towards where the sound had come from squinting her eyes suspiciously. The moon also obscured by the empty blackness or uncertainty making seeing anything even harder. Even through the memory, Zeccaran could feel Gusty’s uncomfortable twitching as her sixth sense registered that the party was indeed in danger. Then she did something Zeccaran had not recalled. The tiniest flinch twitched across her face causing her to blink hard just once as minute sparks of pure white magic danced around the edge of her blue eyes.

“The only thing I think I can call that is that weird “divine” magic Gusty uses. As if Divinity even exists anymore: which I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. Except-you! Dream Overlords! I know you are real!....Okay, I’m officially losing it. I don’t even remember half of this stuff anyway. Even in this memory I spent most of the time incapacitated or looking away from Gusty, yet...I don’t like this. Did I die or something? I figured Tartarus would suck a lot more. Oh, well.”

“Something is for sure out there, and it’s evil. Stay on your guard.” Gusty whispered as she bent her knees in readiness. Bunker, who was now on her right, seemingly had acquired his axe from nowhere and without any noise. Slowly, the noises of their foes grew louder. It was vaguely recognizable as the disembodied voices of ponies. They bayed with moans and gibberish-hissing as they shadowy figures’ outlines became visible. The motley group waited carefully watching the specters encircle them slowly. The fire still crackled behind her but its light had dimmed as the shadows surrounded them.

The figures zipped forward in a coordinated attack as one. Their now visible faces and bodies, a see-through green-white. They moaned and passed through one another as they lunged at her. Gusty ducked down to the ground avoiding their flying attacks. Bunker and Zeccaran followed suit either by instinct or by following her lead. As soon as the ghastly creatures whizzed past the party they collectively sprang back up to their hooves in a near synchronized dance. Absently the observer could hear Gunther barking and whimpering a distance away, while he watched.

“Poor Gunther. He had such a hard day. Friendly fire from when my spell snagged him. Getting the literal shit scared out of him by wraiths. I need to do as G.A.S. says and pay him a visit in the gardens.”

Meanwhile one of the wraith’s had swung back around to attempt to hit Gusty again. It \vaguely had the body of a pony draped in dark tattered robes. It’s too long legs and misshapen hooves were a sickly pale see-through green. Eyes that had clearly been bleeding were rolled back to expose their total whites on an otherwise recognizable face of a mare. Its permanently tortured visage left the jaw agape in pain as the withered, bodiless soul hissed angrily trying to spread its torment to Gusty.

“Wraiths! Don’t let them touch you!” she shouted as if she was trying to remind him of what he had just mused about aloud.

Gripping her sword with her levitation she slashed at the wraith that had clumsily swung its hooves at her. She gritted her teeth in that primal hatred that only Gusty could make. At some point, Zeccaran was certain, she had described one of her duties to her “Divine Origin.” Said duty was to help rid the world of the influence of the evil undead. That divine blessing was actually the reason her battered bastard sword was sharp at all. The thing looked like it had been beaten by rocks for the last one thousand years distinctly hiding its deadliness. So it came as no surprise that when her blade struck the wraith it was cloven in two. The insides of its separate halves glowing white hot from the magic instilled in the sword melting away the spectral beings by virtue of its “pure” strikes. Said split wraith quickly withered and loosed an angry hiss as it dissipated.

Great grunting turned his head towards Bunker as he swung his axe in a wide arc hitting two of the wraiths but doing nothing. Without the proper enchantment his strikes would be like splashing a fish with water. It was impossible for him to hurt the incorporeal beings.

“Take that!” Past-Zeccaran yelled. His past self fully hefted Gunther at one of their ghostly combatants throwing him straight and true. Gunther passed through it with a yelp and landed in a heap on the ground. The wraith responded by making a flying charge, it narrowly missed the zebra jumped to the side.

“Scratch that. Both Gunther and I had a terrible day. I resort to throwing my one true friend through a spirit sapping shadow of agony, and Gunther actually flies through said terror.”

Said wraith passed by and stopped its advance as it reached Gusty. The other two of the remaining four grouped up with their undead kin as they made a pass on Past-Zeccaran. This time the hideous creatures hit him, their ghastly tendril-limbs visibly draining his life force. However, this placed the four wraiths were now in range of Gusty’s holy spell, that most annoying of situational spells that she possessed. Highly annoyed Zeccaran watched as she reached into her mail to grab her symbol of Origin. It was not much more than a simple triangle shape with various ancient looking swirls on it, there was nothing particularly holy or special about it, other than it was highly effective.

“Okay. Another note to self: Get Gusty to let you examine that weird ‘symbol’ of hers. I wonder if Luna has noticed this? Probably, but I doubt she has the clout to just snatch it away from Gusty. She would have better luck convincing Celestia to stop eating cake! Which relatively speaking is impossible. Anyway...ow! Jeez! Those damn wraiths are still just as horrible and shrieky as when she scared them in person. Almost worse. And up they go, save that last one.”

The fourth wraith, seemingly with no idea of who Origin was, floated stubbornly. Zeccaran did not blame it, he had no idea who or what Origin was either, nopony did but Gusty did. Said wraith hissed angrily at Gusty, turning about and moaning with despair as its comrades flew about decidedly as annoyed as an undead could possibly portray. It turned about once more to face her again and rolled its ethereal pony head in a full rotation grumbling in its undead tongues. Before she could raise her sword the wraith reached out with one of its wispy hooves and touched her. She screamed in a vicious uproar of pain as the wraith moaned back at her in a disturbingly satisfied way.

“Vile creature!” Gusty shouted after she recovered. She swung her sword downward into the wraith intending to trace her blade through its eyes. Humiliatingly, at her point-blank range, she missed. Her blade rocketed to the ground propelled by the sheer mental force she had applied. It buried itself in the soft dirt up to almost its hilt.

“Ahhh ahhahaha! Ahahaha! OH MY YES! I-I-I...I can’t believe I missed this! This is gold! I’ll have to taunt her about this every chance I get! Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!”

Gusty loosed a girly shriek and ran away moving much faster than the wraith, spluttering and cursing as she went. She stopped after gathering herself behind Bunker.

“If you kill this wraith in one hit, I swear I’ll marry you!” She screamed both in anger and in an attempt to use Bunker as a distraction. She stared daggers at her stuck sword clearly just wanting to retrieve it and kill the damned wraith herself.

Ohhh and now it makes so much more sense! No wonder Bunker was so ecstatic he won the fight! At the time I let it go but this is great!”

Loosing a mighty scream Bunker took his axe in his two front legs and rose up on his back ones. Lifting the axe to the full length of its handle Bunker yelled again, his voice a combination of righteous fury and a primal fighting spirit. Gusty watched in awe, her sword forgotten in the ground. The edge of the steel axe-blade lit with yellow light as Bunker swung the weapon.The stroke was quick, nearly too fast to catch with the eyes. The axe impacted the wraith’s center splitting its greenish head and sternum in two, and carrying on completely cleaving it in twain. Instantly the two halfs dissipated into nothingness, the dark sorcery that kept it held together destroyed in a single stroke. Shocked, Gusty fell to her flanks and stared on in disbelief.

“Ha!....HA!...You see!!?! I killed it! I-I-I...I Killed the wraith! And in one hit too!” Bunker cheered his own feat. Gusty barely could acknowledge him. She just looked down at her sword, still stuck in the ground a look of disdain one would have for a traitor coating her face. The blade shimmered in the returning firelight mockingly as if to help Zeccaran tease her.

“You promised to marry him on a whim, you promised to marry him on a whim!”

The observer danced around Gusty mirroring Bunker’s rhythm as he mocked her with his bad little song. Perhaps it would have been more appropriate had the real Gusty been there, but he decidedly did not care. He completely ignored the charade of

Meanwhile, Zeccaran had begun throwing various objects at the still panicked wraiths above. The wraiths would probably remain in their ever circling state for the next half-hour or so. Gusty was still fairly confounded with the Bunker situation and Zeccaran now tossing his sickle at the wraiths, was making the matter worse.

“Hey,” said Bunker passing by Gusty and looking up at the spiralling undead. “How about those ones? Do I get bonus if I kill those too?” He asked. Gusty looked at him with a straight face, she had no emotions to display anymore. “Sure. Use my sword too, if you can get it out of the ground…” She deadpanned to him.

“Ohhhh yeeeaaaah! Here it comes! Round two! Haha! Here we go!”

Bunker perked up a deviously confident grin before striding over to where Gusty’s sword was stuck. He bent over grabbing the mouth grip and free it from the dirt with ease. He just grabbed it and went. HOW DID HE DO THAT? Gusty mouthed

“‘ere weeck zzzzzeh’bra, lit meh’ uzze ‘agic ssswoord tah kill wriths.” Bunker matter-of-factly stated through the sword grip. He moved so the bigger stallion could fling the sword easier. Making a few practice twists of his neck Bunker angled his throw for the nearest wraith. He made a quick spin and swirled his neck, the sword flew in slow spins up towards the undead.

Smiling with delight Zeccaran watched as the wraiths’ aerial paths brought them into a tight group. Gusty’s sword spun up and through them passing through each of the putrid beasts. Shrieking and changing from green to white the wraiths slowly dispelled. Both luck and a good throw had finished them in a single instance. Then a familiar sickle flew through the air to hit the puff of fog and then fall harmlessly to the ground. It had been his previous attempt to matter during the combat.

“See!!?? I helped!” his apparition yelled pitifully. He ran over and grabbed his sickle and returned. “I totally got that last one. Heh..heheheh...wahhh…” He finished with noises that were somewhere between a mope and a sob.

“By the stars I can be super pathetic at times. This was one of the those times. At least I got a good laugh out of Gusty before that healthy dose of karma smacked me in the face.”

Gusty managed to finally recover as the last mote of the purified white smoke started to blow away a nervous smile on her lips. She looked back and forth between Bunker and the ground. Bunker began snickering pridefully at his victory before attempting to comfort the past.

“It is ok striped one. You were great distraction!” He chortled out. “Maybe next time you hit enemies, da?” The bigger stallion broke into a full laughter. Gusty seemingly pleased with his suffering once again also started laughing.

“And there they go again. They are a rather nice matched set aren’t they. Both big, dumb, jerks. Perfect pair really. Yick. Oh, and now they are making out! By Celestia’s beard, Gusty! Slow down! You’ve known him for like six hours, does a guy fighting evil really turn you on that much? Ugh!”

“Hey wait...isn’t tomorrow in this set of memories the day that...oh no. No. No. No! Not again! Come on! Noooooo!”

A powerful wind of astral magic sucked Zeccaran towards a black vortex. He tried to claw on the ground with his hooves but found it a false surface as he flailed helplessly. The dark hole sucked him down into a blank expanse that was slowly filled with grey color. Somewhere deep inside of him Zeccaran was hoping that this new chromatic land was the end, but he knew better.

Official edit: 10-14-2017