A powder-blue mare ran helter-skelter through the streets of Canterlot. It was Canterlot yes? For the longest time after the blue mare seen that horrible creature she had done what she imagined many ponies had done. She locked herself in her dingy room, curled into a ball, and tried in vain to wake up. She had tried to block out the screams, but they were everywhere, no matter what she did she could hear them. Ponies that were taken by that... thing... they were brought to the castle and... and...

Trixie Lulamoon felt a fresh wave of nausea hit her, she staggered to one of the alleyways and heaved up what little remained of the contents of her stomach. Goddess she was such a wretched sight, matted fur and mane stained with tears and other less identifiable fluids. Lightning and fear flashed through her, urging her to move as another inequine scream echoed out from the castle. It wasn't fair, she'd been doing so well until she'd disgraced herself in the middle of a small town that just happened to be home to the prodigy of Celestia herself, the Element of Magic no less. She'd been a foal and acted like one too. Since then she'd gone from bad job to bad job and dealing with humiliating conditions, everything from ungrateful customers to sleazy managers trying to coerce her, HER, Trixie Lulamoon, into their beds with promises of bits and promotions. Now here she was, at what she considered to be her lowest point, fleeing down filthy backstreets and alleys trying to desperately outmaneuver the horrors that had bled out from the castle nine days ago. She only knew because keeping track of time had become a hobby of sort. Trixie rounded another bend and ducked into a side-alley, taking a deep breath and fighting back the urge to give in and have a nervous breakdown she reached into her soiled cape and withdrew a simple silver pocketwatch. With a sob she recalled her fathers' words, he had been a kind pony who had done his best to raise a daughter on his own.

I want you to have this Trix, it was your grandfathers' and it has always worked perfectly, we stage magicians need to have perfect timing.

Her mother, had run off mere weeks after her birth, Trixie didn't even know her name. She had no desire to either. Even after her father had passed away from illness when she was sixteen she had never sought out her other parent. Trixie withdrew her mind from those unpleasant memories and focused on the even-more-pleasant present. A quick glance at the ticking watch told her it was exactly two hours til the start of another day.

Day 10, she thought to herself, Trixie will be out of Canterlot by then...

The notion of being free from this nightmare was a consoling one, she'd be in the mountains but she knew of a small shop on the outskirts that sold hiking and travel gear. No doubt the owners would be long gone. They'll not miss a blanket or two, Trixie does not want to freeze in the mountains after escaping, that would just be...

Trixie huffed, a sliver of her old arrogance resurfacing as she muttered to herself, “...that would just be disgraceful." She mentally cursed herself as she spoke, she had been so careful to stay quiet, she could only pray that nopony heard-

tip-tap... tip-tap...

Trixie's blood froze in her veins at the sound. It was a familiar one. One she had heard, and later seen, when the cold and hunger had forced Trixie to seek food outside her little room.

The Collector.

Trixie did not know what it was called, only that her mind called it that. Truthfully? It was unspeakable. Dressed so very finely, a smartly tailored suit of white with a tie the color of arterial red. Immaculately kept and brushed, free of dirt or hairs and very clean. The cuffs were the only part of the suit that was tarnished at all. They were stained by the filthy black tar-like ichor that bled from its' split hooves. If one was smart, Trixie reflected, they would make every effort to stare at the hooves and nothing else. She had made the mistake of looking up into its' face. Its' face's. Three of them. Trixie fought down the urge to panic, to scream and howl in defiance of whatever unholy demiurge made that... that thing. Goddess, those faces of pale flesh stretched over a malformed skull like a badly fitting glove. Three faces, one head. The one on the left with its' mouth full of metal nails, that did nothing but laugh and cackle like a hyena. The one on the right, effeminate, almost mare-like, that cooed and whispered honeyed words through cracked lips and rotten teeth. Trixie swallowed back a wave of bile. In the center... In the middle...

No, no I won't remember the last face, that horrible grinning face with perfect white teeth that whispered terrible secrets into my mind. Oh goddess, that voice, I can hear it. A voice like the buzzing of a swarm of poisonous flies.

Tears flowed freely down Trixies' face as the hoofsteps passed her. She had to get out, to escape. If she died cold, alone, and forgotten on the rocks of the mountain that would be fine with her. If it meant being away from this living, breathing, buzzing, nightmare.

“hahahhehehahehhahahehehaaheheha”

“Where are you sweetness? Come out and give us a kiss my love.”

“hatedyoulittlemoonhedidyeshedidohhehatedyouforeatingawayathisoul.”

Trixie gripped the wall, she tasted the acrid tang of vomit in her mouth but she didn't dare move, not even to retch, she gripped and prayed.

“hahahehehehehahahehahehahehehaheha”

“We miss you love. Oh yes we do, we will hold you oh so tightly sweetness.”

“wantedyouhedidwantedyoubutnohecouldnotsoprettysolikehersomuchlikeher.”

+=+

“Trixie clung to that wall, 'Go away,' she said 'Please, leave Trixie alone,' she said, Trixie begged and prayed and whispered for what felt like hours.” The eyes of the powder blue mare were filled with a feverish delight as she told her story to her captive audience. “So long she clung to that wall and prayed. It finally left, oh yes, it finally left her alone. It filled Trixies' mind with beetles and razors but it left us alone.” Trixie ran a hoof along one bruised cheek of her 'friend' and leaned in to nuzzle her neck affectionately, “And Trixie ran when it left, she ran and ran and ran. Out of Canterlot, out of the nightmare. She ran into the mountains. She found little furry things that she could eat.” With a deft hoof Trixie reach out and gave the little mountain-rat another turn on the spit, the smell of cooked meat filling the cave. “Trixie found shelter. Found You.”

Trixie leaned in, her mane falling in a filthy curtain and her eyes glinting with the light of a broken mind, pursed her cracked lips and, with exaggerated tenderness, kissed Twilight Sparkles' barely-conscious form.