For the first time in a long time, it was the ringing of the alarm clock which dragged Fluttershy from sleep – not exactly kicking and screaming, but certainly digging her hooves in and saying that she'd really rather not if it was quite all right with you. Normally up with the first rays of Celestia's sun, or even before in winter, today it was a struggle to even roll over and switch off the alarm.

Gritting her teeth, and knowing her animal friends were relying on her for their breakfast, she tried dunking her head under the cold tap in the bathroom for a minute but still felt slow and cold and lethargic, out of sync with the world. She made her way to the top of the stairs where she could hear her house guest arguing with Angel Bunny. Oh dear, that would never do! She hurried down to find a strange steeplechase running the length of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Gimme that here, you overgrown rodent!” Hovering irately by the stove, Rainbow Dash made a fruitless swoop for the box that Angel Bunny had clutched in his paws. Feinting towards the door, the white rabbit lunged around the end of the kitchen table, then made a short-cut underneath it as the Pegasus tried to head him off.

Fluttershy gasped. “Oh, no! Stop!”

Her voice was lost in the crash as Rainbow hauled a chair carelessly out of the way, sending it toppling over. Angel Bunny took that as the cue to hare into the living room again.

“Stop it!” Fluttershy screamed. Her voice didn't carry far but Angel hesitated in mid-stride, his head turning to find the source of the sound. It provided Rainbow with just enough of an opening to swoop in and snatch the box out of his paws.

“Ha! You shoulda kept running, ya little runt!” Rainbow Dash taunted the vanquished rabbit, who folded his forelegs and gave her an evil scowl. Ignoring him, Rainbow finally noticed the other Pegasus, still poised on the stairs. “Morning, Fluttershy! Whoa, are you OK? You look terrible!”

“Oh! Um, well, I didn't get much sleep last night, so I guess I could be better,” she mumbled. “What's going on?”

Rainbow Dash puffed out her chest proudly. “I got back off the Dawn Patrol to find this little critter raiding your cupboards. He wouldn't listen to reason, so I had to do it the hard way.”

Really, from her attitude you'd think that Rainbow had just tamed a wild dragon instead of a cute fluffy little bunny rabbit, Fluttershy thought to herself. She blinked, surprised at her uncharacteristically uncharitable thoughts.

“Um, Rainbow? He's supposed to do that,” she pointed out quietly. “I was a little late this morning, so he was about to feed some of the animals for me.”

Rainbow's jaw dropped. “What, this stuff?” she demanded, shaking the box at Fluttershy. “Do you know how much this... and you feed it to animals?”

“The squirrels and chipmunks love it,” said Fluttershy.

Rainbow spluttered incoherently for a few moments, then slowly lowered the box to the seething rabbit. Angel snatched the box out of her hooves and, with a swipe at the Pegasus, stomped outside.

“Oh dear! Um, I really ought to go and see to the birds and the other animals. They'll be waiting for their breakfast,” said Fluttershy meekly. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Like a log, once I got used to it. The wind sounds weird down here, and there's all this scuttling and shuffling going on.”

“That's great!” said Fluttershy, putting on a brave face and forcing herself into motion. “If you're hungry, there's bread in the cupboard over there. I'll try not to be too long.”

Outside and out of sight of her friend, the small smile on Fluttershy's face fell and she went through the motions of feeding her little friends mostly by rote, lost in thought and oblivious even to the excited chattering of the birds which clustered around her and perched on her back. Rainbow Dash hadn't noticed a thing last night. Was it all in her head, then? And if so, was that good or bad? Or both?

She left several piles of small mammals stuffing their cheeks as fast as possible, and checked the bird feeders for the finches and jays before topping up the sugar water for the hummingbirds. By the time she had finished, she decided that there was no point bothering Twilight with her nervous night-time fantasies. The poor mare had more than enough on her plate at the moment.

It was only later that she recognised the minor detail that was bugging her.

The measuring cup by the seed store was missing.

Twilight was surprised by a knock at the door early that morning, and even more surprised to see Silver standing there with a toolbox on his back. Although her greeted her politely, any hope that their argument the previous night had been forgotten was quickly dispelled. He carefully explained what he would be doing for the day, but any further attempted conversation outside that was politely but firmly rebuffed. Reluctantly, she gave up and retreated upstairs to her books. She could only hope that their rift could be mended with time.

The Illusory had dissipated overnight, as she had expected, so instead she pored through her more corporeal references for anything further on the Leprefaun. Sounds from downstairs drifted by on the edge of her awareness, mainly the heavy clomp of Spike moving books for the carpenter and the occasional burst of laughter – obviously the two of them were still on speaking terms, she thought sourly – but the familiar, resounding belch of a letter arriving 'Dragon Express' dragged her out of her papery world. Sure enough, a few minutes later Spike arrived with a scroll in his claws.

“Sheesh, you'd think that pony had never seen magic before,” he grumbled.

“Thanks, Spike!” she said, lifting the scroll with her magic. “Maybe he was just surprised? The letters are a bit abrupt.”

“Tell me about it!” said Spike, rubbing his stomach gingerly. “Anyway, he's best buddies with a Unicorn – you'd think he'd see more magic ten times a day. Everything OK up here?”

“Fine, although if you find Bluebell's Bestiarum Vocabulum, can you bring it up when you get a moment?”

“Sure thing, Twilight.”

The little dragon ambled away, closing the door behind him and leaving Twilight pondering on the nature of Summer's abilities again, the pony who had inadvertently set her on the Illusory in the first place. Could her difficulties be hereditary? Both her parents were Unicorns, but to what extent was magical ability determined by birth? Her own parents were both moderately powerful, but nothing like on the scale of Twilight and her brother. Setting the question aside for another time, she unrolled the scroll in front of her.

My dear Twilight,

Once again, your dedication to your studies continues to astound me! The Leprefaun is a creature I have not heard of in many centuries, and then only in certain very rare books. All became clear when the Head Archivist informed me that you had requested the spell for Illusory. Many ponies have studied this work over the years, but to fully understand it requires you to understand Huygen Complex himself.

Huygen was fascinated with illusion in all its forms; unfortunately, that also included the creation of illusion through words. As he was fond of saying, you may trick the eye with light, but with words you can convince a pony to create the perfect illusion in their heads. Interwoven throughout Illusory are a series of codes, ciphers, and puzzles, some – but not all – of which have meanings other than as challenges to be solved. For example one such code, if recited out loud, will cause a Unicorn to turn themselves bright pink! The thought of tangling the unwary pony in these traps appealed greatly to his brilliant and delightfully devious mind. There are also sections of his text which are outright fabrications based on just enough facts to appear plausible; a different sort of illusion. I think my favourite such invention was 'Equus-Coprolith Theory' – which, I believe, translates approximately as 'A load of old horseapples'!

This is, of course, mostly irrelevant to your original letter, but Huygen was a fascinating pony and I hope you will forgive a small digression while I indulge in some fond memories.

Regarding the Leprefaun itself, I believe Huygen included this partially as a relic of an ancient myth which was dying out even then, and partially as an allegory for manipulation of the absence of light. He is quite correct in its traditional description and abilities, but unfortunately it is entirely mythical. Were the Leprefaun or its goddess, Loka, to exist, I am quite certain that I would know of them-

Twilight's horn fizzled out and the scroll dropped to the floor. Dejectedly, she hauled herself over to the bed and flopped down with a dispirited sigh. Not just back to square one again, but apparently she'd made a total fool of herself getting there, too. It was almost too good to be true, she remembered thinking at the time. Why hadn't she thought more critically? She felt affronted, like a close friend had betrayed her. Books shouldn't be able to tell lies!

As wonderful as books were, they were only sources of information, she reminded herself. It was still up to the reader to assess, evaluate, and utilise the knowledge they contained. She only had herself to blame for letting a book do the thinking for her.

She sighed again. It was hopeless; no leads, no information, and from the twitch of her cheek under one eye, a futile waste of sleep caused by another wild goose chase. Perhaps things would seem better after a nap.

Summer Clip was sweeping up the tail clippings of another customer – rather worryingly, only her second of the day – when she heard a cheery voice from the door. “Room for one more?”

She looked up and felt a wide smile break across her face. “Hi Cloud Kicker, come on in!”

The Pegasus fluttered in and gave her a now-customary hug. “I thought you'd be busy?”

Summer made a face. “It's been a bit of a slow day. So, what can I do for you?”

“Well... I think I could do with a bit of a tidy-up,” said Cloud Kicker, running a nervous hoof through her blonde-streaked, butter-yellow mane.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Why does everypony come here in the first place if they're so worried about what I'm going to do to them?” she asked, mostly joking.

Cloud Kicker scuffed a hoof, looking embarrassed. “Because you could do anything and they'd have to live with it? I'm sorry, Summer, maybe that wasn't very nice.”

Summer just laughed. “Hey, it's OK. So, are you going to stick with your usual look, or try something new?”

“I dunno. What do you have in mind?” Cloud Kicker said reluctantly.

“You're a Pegasus, right? So simple, quick and easy to maintain, and stands up well to flying, right?”

“Right!” Cloud Kicker looked relieved at her understanding, and Summer grinned evilly.

“So nothing like this, then?”

Summer touched her horn to the other mare's neck and set her mane swirling and lengthening before finally clumping into preposterously long spikes which stood out from her head like a fan. Cloud Kicker watched the magic unfold in the mirror with a dumbfounded expression before throwing back her head and roaring with laughter.

“That's brilliant! Do another one! Do another one!” she squealed when she'd got her breath back. Summer was only too happy to oblige, and her friend clopped her hooves and laughed excitedly at each one, bouncing like a filly on a sugar rush.

Eventually, she ran out of ideas – and was starting to wonder if her friend had given herself the stitch from laughing too much. “So, the Granny Smith look?”

Gasping for breath, the Pegasus still managed a passable impression of the irascible Apple matriarch. “Dagnabbit, you pesky young whipper-snapper!”

Summer giggled. “I could do the giant chicken comb again?”

“All right, I give in! You win!”

“The usual?”

“The usual!”

With a weak splash of magic, she returned her friend's mane to normal and took up the scissors and comb. “So, are Silver and I accidentally going to run into you completely by chance again tonight?” she asked with a smile.

The Pegasus twitched, nearly losing a hank of her mane. “Uh...”

Summer's grin widened, “You two were looking pretty cosy yesterday!”

Cloud Kicker coughed awkwardly. “Poor Silver! I think he just needed somepony to talk to for a while. I was only filling in for you.”

“Yeah, right!” Summer knew that Silver wouldn't talk to just anypony like that, but decided to let it pass. Fun as it was to tease a little, if anything really was going to happen between those two it was best to keep out of it and let them work it out for themselves. “Did you see Junebug today before she left for the Fillydelphia show?”

“No, I slept in a little this morning. Colgate said I didn't miss her by much, though,” Cloud Kicker said distractedly. She took a deep breath and continued, “Look, there was something I wanted to talk to you about, actually. It's related to what Silver told me yesterday.”

Summer nearly made a joke, but Cloud Kicker's unusually sober voice gave her pause. “Go on.”

“Silver was saying that you've been getting some strange looks from ponies around the village recently, so I did a bit of nosing around today. The ponies making all the noise tend to shut up when they realise I'm listening, probably because everypony knows we're friends, but some of the things I've heard...” Cloud Kicker trailed off for a moment before looking up with beseeching eyes. “I can't believe I'm saying this, Summer, but I'm actually a bit worried about you two.”

Summer paused mid-cut, then walked across the salon to shut the door and flip the sign to 'Closed'. “So, how bad is it? Pitchforks and flaming torches?”

The half-hearted attempt at humour fall flat as the Pegasus fidgeted in silence for a minute, the shifting and re-settling of her wings betraying her agitation as she gathered her thoughts.

“The whole thing's just a nasty mass of rumours and counter-rumours,” she said finally. “Most ponies don't seem to be too worried, for all that they gossip, but there's a couple that are talking about having you locked up or run out of town. Nopony's really listening to them – yet – but just the fact that the other ponies aren't laughing at them is enough to make me worried. I don't know, Summer, I don't think anypony's going to do anything silly, but... be careful, yeah?”

Summer tried to fight off the shiver that her friend's words gave her. “I don't understand. There must be something we can do? Who are these ponies, anyway?”

Cloud Kicker shook her head sadly. “Pick a pony, get a different rumour. I mean, I heard Mr. Breezy saying something about you threatening Silver the other day. Mr. Breezy, for Celestia's sake! He's a really nice, level-headed sort of pony, but now he seems to think you're dangerous!”

“You what?! I... Silver? What the hay would I be threatening Silver for?” Summer spluttered incredulously.

“He said he heard you two arguing, apparently.”

“What? But we were... that's ridiculous!” said Summer, outraged. “We were joking around and he was trying to embarrass me!”

“So did you threaten him?”

“Of course I did!” Summer exclaimed, throwing up a hoof in exasperation, “He was winning! I just told him to shut up – I can't believe anypony would take that seriously!”

Cloud Kicker sighed, stamping a hoof absently. “Yeah. But thanks to the blabbermouths there's so many of these stupid stories flying around now that ponies are automatically thinking the worst of you. Can you believe that Thunderlane pulled me aside on the way here to 'warn me' about Silver?”

“Do I want to know why?” Summer asked acerbically.

Cloud Kicker made a face. “Apparently not only is he your lover, he's fooling around with Twilight on the side and I need to be careful not to do anything 'rash'. Supposedly that's why he's spending all that time at the library recently,” she said in a disgusted voice.

Summer could only look at her in horror, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Cloud Kicker snorted derisively. “Yeah, I know. I can only assume it's that stupid story about your welcoming party. It was kinda funny at the time, but nopony was taking that seriously, either!”

Summer groped around for something to say, but the words refused to come. “That's got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” she settled for eventually.

“I'm going to ruin my reputation, apparently,” said Cloud Kicker wryly. “I didn't even know I had one! I haven't had the heart to tell Silver about this yet. I don't even know where to begin.”

“I know exactly what he'd say, and I'd have to give him a clip around the ear for it,” Summer grumbled.

“What's that, then?” asked Cloud Kicker, curious.

“'Where was I when all this was going on?'” Summer quoted in a deep voice. “Big jerk!”

Cloud Kicker chuckled. “He'd have a point; where were any of us when this was going on, because I sure as hay don't remember any of it?”

There was no stopping the shivers this time, radiating out from the nape of her neck and sending chills pricking across her back and down to her hooves. She closed her eyes and briefly she was a filly again, the jeers of the other foals ringing in her ears as they lobbed old horseshoes at her and she felt the welts coming up on her neck and shoulder, a burning agony in her horn where one of her tormentors had scored a 'ringer' and the hot, salty taste of blood in her mouth from a split lip.

“Summer? You OK? Hey, you know you'll have Junebug and I right next to you, right? Shoulder to shoulder, and I know that Silver will always have your back,” Cloud Kicker broke in gently, her voice quiet but adamant.

She took a deep, shaky breath against the ache in her chest and blew it out, willing the memories to go with it. Cloud Kicker was more right than she knew. Old hurts, long since gone, she told herself. Not trusting herself to speak, she opened her eyes and gave Cloud Kicker a small smile intended to be reassuring but it was a sickly, tremulous thing. It didn't work; the other mare was still looking at her intently, concern plain on her face. “You're a pretty awesome friend, Cloudy, you know that?” said Summer with forced lightness.

“I don't know about that. Maybe I should have kept this to myself; I didn't mean to scare you, but this is wrong, Summer! You two have got absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, so you've got to keep your head up and show them you won't be bullied or intimidated. If I can help you with that then I will,” said Cloud Kicker earnestly.

The tightness in her chest was nigh-on unbearable now, and she had to bite firmly on her lip to keep the tears from falling. If only it was that easy, she thought to herself, and if only that was all it took. She had survived more than harsh words when she was younger, thanks to a strong friendship, so surely she could take this malicious sniping in her stride when she had another kind, generous soul at her side? Focus on the job in hoof, she told herself firmly. There's time to think this through later. And probably to cry like filly!

“Well. Well. Thank you,” she forced out between short breaths, before trying to brighten her voice. “But right now I've got a job to finish, or you'll come out of here looking like a scarecrow, which is what you were worried about earlier, wasn't it?”

Summer wondered if she could ever express just how grateful she was for Cloud Kicker's understanding smile as she let the abrupt change of subject pass.

Or how grateful she was that neither of them commented on how badly Summer's hooves shook as she finished trimming her friend's mane.

“I mean, who even knew that butterflies migrated?”

Rainbow Dash, sprawled on her belly, reached out a hoof to flip the page while Fluttershy lay curled more demurely on the rug beside her. After a late dinner and a game of Battleclouds, Fluttershy had pulled out one of her photo albums to illustrate a story about her foalhood home in Cloudsdale and they ended up flipping through the whole thing, talking about their adventures and the friends that shared them on every page.

“Well, what did you think they did in winter?” Fluttershy asked with a small grin.

“I dunno, maybe they hibernate, or make one of those chrysalis things, or something. I never really thought about it.”

“Oh no, they have to fly south to warmer areas where they can feed, just like the birds do. If they don't, then they won't survive the winter cold. What's really amazing is that they don't fly back – their offspring do, thousands of miles back to the same place. Nopony knows how they find their way to somewhere they've never been before,” Fluttershy lectured gently. Her friend gave her a sceptical look.

“So how does a puny little thing like a butterfly fly thousands of miles in the first place?”

Fluttershy smiled distantly. “Persistence. They may not be very strong fliers, but they keep going until they reach their goal. I sometimes wonder if that would make a good Friendship Report for the Princess? Maybe I should suggest it to Twilight if she's having trouble thinking of what to write.”

Rainbow laughed. “Yeah, when she's having another meltdown 'cos her letter might be a day late it'd be good to have something in reserve!” She hid a yawn behind one hoof. “'Scuse me! Well, I should probably head up to bed – Dawn Patrol in the morning.”

“OK Rainbow. Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, I'm good. G'night Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy watched her friend circle the room one last time, checking the bar was across the door before heading upstairs. With a small sigh, she collected her photo album and slid it back into place on the shelf. As much as Rainbow Dash tried to be casual about it, her precautions were a chilling reminder of the strange sounds that had woken her the previous night. Briefly, she considered find some sort of weapon; a strong stick, perhaps, but she didn't have anything to hoof and she knew that she probably lacked the presence of mind to use one should she need to.

Having completed her night-time routine, she settled into her bed and propped herself upright on pillows, determined to stay awake and see if the mysterious noises returned or whether her fears were simply the result of an over-active imagination. In spite of her firm resolve, she quickly nodded off, and slept soundly until the next morning.

“I been looking for you,” said the hated voice from behind her. “Shove off, loser!”

She heard a protesting squeak from Poppy as her friend was roughly shouldered aside. Spinning around, she saw him strutting arrogantly towards her, and a ring of his buddies and sycophants quickly formed around them. She took an involuntary step backwards, looking reflexively around but she was quite alone in the wide corridor.

His victorious, malicious grin widened. “What's the matter, gone and lost your shadow?”

He knew. He had set this up, he had done something, oh, this was going to be bad! Her disquiet deepened when she heard a heavy metallic crash from the back row.

“What's the matter, Spikehead, cat got your tongue?” taunted one of the others, with an arrogant toss of her head. “Surely you can manage to do something without him holding your little hoovesies for you?”

There was a burst of laughter, and the unexpected jolt on her dock made her jump. Somehow, she'd backed up against the wall. Rather appropriate, really, a detached part of her mind noted. It wasn't that she couldn't think of anything to say, more that she knew that there was nothing that would make a difference. Another glance around revealed a small gap between two lockers just to her left, and she manoeuvred herself into it in the forlorn hope of getting some cover when the inevitable happened.

“Course she can't. That thing on her head's just there for decoration, ain't it? So she needs her dear little shadow,” the leader sneered, “I hope he's getting something out of it, at least – when's the foal due?”

Another roar of laughter fanned an ember of resistance into life. “Shut up, you jerk!”

There was a round of mocking gasps and 'Oohs'. “It speaks! A miracle!” The sneer hardened, and he took a pace towards her. “Just what you shouldn't be doing. You need to learn when to keep your gob shut, Spikehead. You think I don't know who snitched on me yesterday?”

“Obviously not, if you're pestering me.” She tried for disdainful, but even to her own ears she simply sounded scared, and so, utterly unconvincing.

An iron-shod hoof rammed itself into her chest painfully. He was the only one of their class wearing shoes yet, and he seemed to delight in treating them as weapons. “Again with the big mouth, you dumb nag!” he snarled, his breath hot on her cheek. He shoved her again, but it was the sudden searing pain behind her shoulder that drove the breath from her lungs. Something hit the floor with a ringing clatter; a large horseshoe, one kept for games. Through her sudden tears of pain, she could hear the other ponies' laughter, some mocking, some merely glad that they weren't the target. A rough hoof forced her chin up painfully until she met his eyes again.

“Now, beg, and maybe I'll let you off easy this time.”

His twisted grin was reflected in his eyes, eager with anticipation, smouldering with the desire for her humiliation. It was that look that touched off her temper.

“Go boil your head for glue, you pathetic creep!” She had only managed to slap his filthy hoof off her when she felt another thumping impact in her side, this time making her stagger. She caught herself and looked up just in time to see his rear hooves coming around before they slammed into her chest, sending her flying back into her little refuge, her head bouncing off one of the lockers and sending sparks dancing before her eyes. Another horseshoe crashed into the locker beside her before the world dissolved in a blinding thunderclap of agony-

With a gasp, Summer thrashed her way free of the covers and sat up, her panting breaths echoing throughout the little garret room above her salon. The memory of that dreadful pain was still fading from her horn and forehead as she found her little clock beside the bed. Nearly half-past two in the morning. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to take deep, steadying breaths as uncontrollable shivers ran through her. Just the chills from the sweat drying in my coat, she told herself firmly. There was no way she was afraid of that sad little creep, not then, not now.

She sank back against the pillows. Perhaps this particular nightmare shouldn't be a surprise, given that the memory had crept up on her at the salon earlier, but it had been years since its last visit. With a sad half-smile she remembered the usual antidote in her younger days. It had worked then, perhaps it would still work now?

It was Silver who had found her, of course. The first she knew of her rescue was when he bucked his way through the locked door; a ridiculously melodramatic entrance, she had teased him in later years. Through a mist of tears and the jagged knives of agony in her head, she saw him slide to a stop beside her and hesitate for a second, taking everything in, before turning and falling on the culprits like an avenging angel. He had been in scraps before, but this time he was like a pony possessed, whirling, bucking, biting, as they tried to swarm him under. Somehow, through luck or strength or sheer will, he kept wriggling free although she saw him taking plenty of punishment in doing so.

The crowd abruptly thinned, a sure sign that a teacher was on the way and the fainter of heart had suddenly found other places to be, and Mr. Blizzard arrived at a gallop. With a cry of “Break it up, there!”, he dived into the melee and emerged holding Silver by the mane, the colt still twisting and thrashing wildly. The angry stallion shook him bodily, then threw him to one side where Silver stumbled and fell sprawling. “I said, enough!” Mr. Blizzard roared, the noise like a lance to her ears. A sudden hush descended, broken only by the occasional moan and somepony sobbing. She was surprised to realise it was her.

She didn't see Silver again until that evening, after she had been patched up at the medical centre and sent home. She lay sprawled on top of her bed with her head resting between her front hooves, the curtains drawn against the sinking sun's light which was still painful to her eyes, when she heard her mother's voice in the hallway.

“I wondered if we'd see you tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Clip,” came his familiar, tired voice, “How is she?”

“Better than you, by the looks of it. You look like you ought to be in bed, poor thing!”

“I'll live.” He was trying to sound flippant, but instead his voice wavered uncertainly.

“Hmm,” her mother sounded unconvinced, “And I suppose your mother knows you're here?”

She heard a weary chuckle, “If she doesn't yet, I'm sure she'll figure it out. Can I see her? Please?”

Her mother hesitated, then gave in as Summer knew she would. “Oh, all right, but only if you go straight home to bed. You need to rest as well, Silver.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Clip.”

A few moments later he appeared, pushing her door open slowly. “Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey,” she replied, raising her head. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest to see him limping heavily towards her. He was covered in welts and contusions, and a massive swelling showed black through the short hair on his face, closing one eye completely. She scooted over and patted the space next to her, and he gingerly lowered himself down beside her. Neither of them spoke for a long while, just drawing comfort from each other's warm presence. “You OK?”

He shrugged lop-sidedly. “I took a few sore ones, but I reckon I dished a few out as well, so I can't complain. Headache?”

“Hornache, mostly, but yeah,” she said softly. “Your dad came to see me earlier, at the medical centre.”

“Good. Did he say anything?”

“Not really, but I think he talked to the nurse. Why 'good', though?”

“Old Blizzard locked me in the Principal's office – naturally, seeing as it was all my fault-” Here, both of them snorted derisively. “-And I guess they went off to sort everything out. Eventually Mrs. Aurora came in and Dad was with her. I must have been looking a bit sorry for myself, because Dad actually threw her out of her own office – it was kinda funny! He cleaned me up a bit, then said he'd heard their version and what did I have to say for myself? You know what Dad's like.”

“So what did you say?”

“Well, I was pretty sure excuses weren't going to fly, so I told him that if he checked on you, he'd see why.”

“And he took that?” she asked in disbelief. Silver's dad was a quiet, rather stern pony who took no nonsense from anypony. She couldn't see such a glib answer satisfying him.

“I dunno. He's still up at the school, I think. He's not back at the forge yet, anyway,” Silver said, failing to hide the apprehension in his voice.

She winced in sympathy. “So, what did you get?”

She felt him fidget beside her. “Well... I'm not really sure.”

She jerked her head back up off the bed to stare at him, dread in her heart. “What do you mean, you're not sure?! How can you not be sure?” she demanded, failing to keep the rising panic out of her voice. School would be utterly unbearable without Silver; that day being a case in point.

Silver took a deep breath. “Mrs. Aurora started off on one, blah, blah, the upshot was suspension for a month and I had to apologise to the other ponies.”

“What?!” she gasped, outraged.

“Individually, in front of their parents,” Silver added.

“But... how the...!” she spluttered.

Silver gave her a half-smile. “So I told her to make it two months, 'cause there was no way in Equestria I was going to apologise. And then I walked out.”

She looked at him wonderingly, speechless, and with no small amount of pride. It was a minute before she could find her voice, and all her thoughts distilled down to one thing; “You are so incredibly dead.”

He sighed, and let his head flop down onto the bed. “Very probably.”

In the end, Silver had got off with only the bumps and bruises. Copper Braise's absence had been due to carrying out his own investigations, and his reaction to what he found quickly became the stuff of legend around Fetlock Bath. The normally serious, taciturn blacksmith started with a thundering denunciation of the Principal and her staff in the mayor's office which must have been overheard by half the village, and progressed all the way up to threatening her with lawyers from Manechester at his own expense. For all his unassuming ways Mr. Braise was well-respected around the village and quickly acquired the support of some of the other parents whose foals had come home bruised or bleeding from similar encounters in the past. With the writing well and truly on the wall, the junior grade teacher resigned and left for Manechester together with his son, the ringleader.

Summer sat up and wriggled her way to the edge of the bed, poking her head under the curtains and resting her chin on the sill to get some fresh air from the window left slightly ajar. From her elevated view Ponyville slumbered peacefully, striped in shades of grey from the faint moonlight, although something stirred in the shadows over towards the marketplace.

With the heart cut out of the gang of bullies and the reputation Silver earned from the fight life at school had become easier, even if she never became the height of popularity, and that plus the best friend anypony could wish for was all she wanted. It didn't stop hurtful words and catty games, but at least nopony laid a hoof on her. Silver got less slack than others from the teachers, especially the Principal who probably resented him for his role in her colleague's disgrace, but he never let it bother him.

Whatever it was by the marketplace didn't entirely look like a pony, or move like one. The light never quite seemed to catch it, although having seen it once and knowing it was there, the motion caught the eye. It was probably just a loose tarpaulin moving in the breeze, she decided.

Pulling her head back, she rearranged the covers and settled in to her bed. This time sleep came swiftly and untroubled.

The evening rush was just starting to settle down in Sugarcube Corner as hungry ponies from all over town dropped in for dessert or just to chat with friends. Mr. Cake waited on his customers with his customary bonhomie while his wife ran the till, occasionally dashing out to check on her twin foals and also their hyperactive pink employee who seemed to spend at least as much time talking to everypony who came in as she did in the kitchen.

Silver queued patiently, letting his mind wander to the little cabinet of spice drawers he was building for Cinnamon Swirl's kitchen back in his workshop. He found it a useful way of ignoring the ponies who gave him the cold shoulder while remaining alert enough to reply to the friendly ponies who greeted him. There was still more of the latter than the former, which was a relief, but many others still regarded him warily, not quite sure which camp to fall in to. Presumably it varied depending on the strength of the local rumour mill's churn.

“Hallo there, Silver, what can I get you?” Mrs. Cake greeted him with a pleasant, professional smile.

Silver blinked, snapping back to the present. “Evening, Mrs. Cake. What have you got in the way of muffins tonight?”

The mare leaned forward, pointing with her tongs. “Let's see... blueberry, chocolate, chocolate chip, chocolate chocolate chip, banana and bran, apple and cinnamon, Death-by-Chocolate...”

Silver was detecting a distinct chocolate theme. Still, given the little project he was thinking about earlier, apple and cinnamon sounded appropriate.

Mrs. Cake quickly had a pair bagged up for him, and he thanked her with a smile and waved at Pinkie, whose head had suddenly appeared in the hatchway, before turning to go. At the door, he held it open with his hind leg to let another pony enter. “Evening, Rose!” he said amiably. It was only as he words left his mouth that he saw the look of furious recognition dawn on her face.

“You! You've got some nerve showing up here!” she snarled at him.

Silver blinked in shock and confusion. “Sorry?”

The enraged mare shoved her face right up into his. “Sorry? Sorry!? Do you know how long it took me to breed that orchid? Do you? Seven years, that's how long!”

Silver backed up a step, and he heard a sudden hush fall in the store behind him. “What the hay? What orchid?”

“You ought to be real careful, buddy, we're on to you now!” said Rose in a low, threatening voice, prodding him sharply in the chest with one hoof. “One day we're going to catch you in the act, and when we do-”

“You'll make some more ridiculous accusations on the basis of nothing whatsoever?” Silver couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Hmm? Oh, that's right, you've been listening to the village gossips flapping their gums, they must be right. Tell you what, you do that; keep a sharp eye out, do whatever you want. And when you catch whoever it is, feel free to come and apologise.”

He heard a snort of laughter from within, rapidly turned into an unconvincing cough. Realising he'd gone rather a lot further than he intended, Silver turned and stalked off, holding his head high and trying to look unconcerned. Hopefully he'd convinced a few doubters, but it was just as likely that he'd made things a whole lot worse.

The blanketing, suffocating silence drew her out of her rest again, but it took several minutes for her to recognise it before she sat up and reached for her clock. Nearing dawn, she noted blearily. There had been several uninterrupted nights of peace after the first incident, but now her ears strained again for that terrifying snuffling sound. Her head felt thick and congested and her joints ached dully, almost like she was coming down with the flu. Oh dear, not the flu, not when she had a house guest.

The sharp crash from the sheep shed sounded deafening in the unnatural quiet, making her jump and let out a quiet squeak of terror. It came again, together with an anxious bleat. Baabera, by the sound of it, kicking her enclosure.

She sat there, nerves electrified and the blood pounding painfully in her head, poised to, to... do what? Flee? Panic? Scream the house down? All of the above?

Gradually, the normal sounds of the forest returned to her ears, and after another half-hour of her vigil the first sign of the half-light before dawn stained the horizon. With it, the illusion of safety returned. She could hear Rainbow stirring in the next room, who would shortly set off on her Dawn Patrol.

She waited for her friend to leave and the first rays of the sun to peek over the trees of Sweet Apple Acres before getting up and exploring outside. The heavy dew overnight had left the ground soft, and she caught signs of something large here and there, circling the cottage and passing between the animals' pens. The impressions were too vague to tell her much, even the sort of hooves it may have had. Taking a deep breath she stepped over to the sheep shed to find them huddled closely together as far away from her as possible.

“Baabera? Is everything OK?” There was no response, and the herd was so tightly-packed that she had difficulty in picking out the right ewe. “Did you see something last night?” she asked timorously, dreading the possible response.

The ewe shrank back even further into her colleagues, eyes rolling in agitation. She bit her lip. She would take that as a 'Yes', but knew that nopony else would understand. Did she tell Rainbow about her fears? It still seemed so silly and nebulous, but even now she felt the vastness of the forbidding forest pressing in on her like she had seldom felt before.

She trotted quickly back inside.

Cloud Kicker glided lazily across Ponyville, flying wide, sweeping 'S' turns to stretch each wing in turn. The air was rather disturbed thanks to the rain cloud that the weather ponies had been stacking up, waiting for the night's scheduled downpour, but it still drew a blissful smile from her at the feeling of it flowing across her outstretched flights and ruffling her blonde-streaked mane.

Far below, she spotted a familiar shape pulling a little cart eastward out of town. Her eyes widened in delight; she hadn't seen him in nearly a week! Of course, Summer said he lived out by the Berry farm, so why not fly down and say, 'Hallo'?

She swooped around to approach him from behind, controlling the flare of her wings to reduce her speed and lose height without having to flap and give the game away. Noiselessly, her hooves touched down on the bed of the cart and she kept her wings spread for a moment to balance herself against the motion of the cart.

He ambled slowly on for a surprising length of time, humming softly to himself, before he realised something had changed. He looked around in confusion for a second, and her heart soared to see the warm smile break out on his face. “Hi, Cloud Kicker!”

She laughed excitedly. “How're you doing, big guy? Gosh, I haven't seen you in ages!”

“I've been busy up at the library, trying to get everything done, and I finished up this afternoon. As for me, well, I was doing OK, but I seem to have developed a cling-on!” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “How about you?”

“Oh, same-ol', same-ol'. Flying around, herding a few clouds, you know how it is,” she said airily.

He cleared his throat. “Absolutely. I'm one of those really rare flying Earth ponies, after all,” he said in a deadpan voice. Her eyes flew open in shock before she saw him grinning back at her; for a second, she had been worried that he'd taken offence. “Are you working tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, but not for a couple of hours. We've got a heavy downpour scheduled later, but it's all set up ready to go, so when I saw you down here I thought I'd drop in and see how you were keeping.”

“Great! Well, I was just heading back to the workshop. You're more than welcome to join me, if you'd like?”

It was cute how the last sentence seemed to ruffle the normally-confident pony. “I'd love to!” she said enthusiastically. In truth, she didn't have much idea what the woodworker's house would look like, but she was still curious to see his workshop.

He gave her a pointed look which she loftily ignored, prodding around her carefully with one hoof as if she was going to settle down amidst the toolboxes and varnish cans and other odds and ends. “Well, don't let me stop you – drive on, driver!”

He shook his head and faced forward again, making loud straining noises as the cart creaked into motion, moving at a snail's pace. Her laughter bubbled up and she took pity on him, springing lightly into the air to hover beside him.

“Aww, was that all just a bit too much for you, you poor little guy?” she asked in a gratuitously mothering tone, rubbing a hoof between his ears. He chuckled and ducked out of it, setting off at an effortless walk. Keeping pace with him she reached out again, her voice going from mothering to babying. “Poor little Silvy-wilvy!”

“Get off, you overgrown sparrow!” he spluttered, laughing loudly as he sidestepped and swiped half-heartedly at her merciless hoof.

She stuck out her lower lip in the biggest pout she could manage and flew a little higher. “Little Silvy-wilvy's all cross and angry with me,” she cooed mockingly.

His response was to snap playfully at her tail, making her squeal and zoom out of his reach before the giggles which had been threatening to break out all along swamped her.

She landed, rather breathless, well out in front of him. “OK, truce?” she suggested.

“Don't tell me you're giving up that easily?”

He has a really nice smile, she thought happily.

“No, but it seems a little unfair that you're all hitched up and I'm just goofing around.”

“Uh-huh. Just wait 'till I get home, ditch this thing, and get my wings on – then you're in trouble, sunshine!”

She laughed, falling into step at his shoulder. “Now that I would like to see!”

Together, they wandered steadily along the lane and up to the Berry farm, joking and teasing each other. His humour tended to be rather dry, but somehow she thought it worked quite well with her own playful spirit. He turned off the long driveway through a gate and down a rutted track that led to a low, ramshackle building behind a forest of splintered wood and rusting iron, the remains of years of broken farm equipment. She paused uncertainly while he pulled the cart in under the eaves and shrugged off his harness. “Come on in,” he called over his shoulder, before grabbing one of the toolboxes out of the cart in his teeth.

It was cool and dark inside, with only thin slivers of light penetrating through the shutters. She heard a metallic clash as her set his toolbox down and a few moments later a rapidly-widening column of light flooded the room as he threw open a shutter, making her blink. The room was long and spacious, and although it lacked any softening touches of paint or decoration it had a surprisingly homely feel provided by the wooden items of various shapes and sizes which sat on workbenches or next to machinery, evidently work in progress. Best of all, the air smelled absolutely heavenly with the mix of cedar and pine and many other woods.

To her left, Silver was rapidly pulling tools out of his toolbox and returning them to their rightful homes. She saw him squint casually at one chisel and set it to the side with a curved, double-gripped knife. “Feel free to have a look around, but be careful in here. As a rule, the things that aren't sharp are heavy,” he said, trotting outside again. She opened her mouth to ask if she could help, but he was already gone. Shrugging, she stepped carefully over to a nearby bench where a strange little cabinet sat, its front covered in little openings. A pile of tiny, half-made drawers was heaped next to it, and a collection of small bowls and delicate-looking goblets were perched on a shelf behind it. Moving along, she found a flat rectangular shape with a slightly domed top, about two hoofwidths long and a little more than one wide. Gently, she touched it with a curious hoof and the curved top twisted aside, one corner dropping into the hollow revealed inside; it was a box! She was leaning in for a closer look when his unexpected voice, just over her shoulder, made her jump.

“Do you like that?”

“Oh! Um, well, yeah! It's not solid, is it?” She hadn't noticed any seams or joins in the smooth wood. She side-stepped and turned to look at him.

“No, it's just made from some odds and ends,” he said, looking a little abashed. “If I get bored, I tend to start fiddling with stuff. Or if I get sick of making fiddly little drawers, I guess.”

She smiled. “What is that thing, anyway?” she asked, pointing at the cabinet.

“It's for somepony called Cinnamon Swirl; she wanted something to put her kitchen spices in,” he said, and-

Wait a minute, was he checking out her flank? Oh, now that was awkward! It wasn't like he was being overly subtle about it, either. You should be more angry about this, Cloud Kicker, whether you like him or not, she told herself firmly. He had turned away and was calmly talking about something else, seemingly oblivious. He was so relaxed, in fact, that she started to wonder if she might have misread his look? It didn't really seem to fit with her image of him, either, although that could just be rosy eyes on her part...

“Hallo?” His voice sounded amused, and she shook herself back to the present.

“Sorry, I was a million miles away.”

“So I see,” he smiled understandingly at her before obviously changing whatever-the-subject-had-been. “How about a snack out in the sun?”

“Sure!” she chirped. She could think about this later, she told herself.

He led her out the front this time, and she found herself under a long, low veranda which shielded them from the lowering sun. Between the bottom of the veranda and the tops of the berry vines, she could make out the roof-line of Ponyville in the near distance. He left her at the easternmost end where a roughly squared-off log had been propped on a couple of stumps to make a bench, and vanished back inside for a moment.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” he said when he reappeared, “Show the slightest bit of interest in my job and I can bore you absolutely senseless in no time!”

In spite of herself, she could feel her cheeks burning as she took a cupcake. “It wasn't that! I just started thinking about something, and I guess my mind sort of ran away with me.”

He chuckled, unconvinced, as he sat beside her but said no more; instead he took a bite out of his cupcake and leaned forward so the sun fell on his face, chewing contentedly with his eyes mostly closed. He looked tired, and she could imagine him dropping off right there. Had he been up at night... no, she was not going there, no matter if she was currently miffed at him or not! Well, supposed to be miffed at him, anyway.

The loud, unexpected male voice from beside the workshop made both of them jump.

“Hey, Silver? You in there, buddy?”

She watched his grey eyes fly open. “Yeah, 'round the front!” he called.

“Are you coming tonight to the... oh. Err, wow, sorry dude!” The pony's loud voice faltered as he trotted around the end of the workshop and stopped in his tracks at the sight of them.

She craned her head around to see. “Hi, Caramel!” she said brightly.

The Earth pony gave her a rather fixed smile, shuffling his hooves awkwardly in the dust. “Hi Cloud Kicker. Sorry, Silver, I didn't know you had company.”

Silver got to his hooves and walked over to meet him. “Hey, no problem.”

The two stallions talked briefly in low voices before Caramel hurried off with a muttered farewell, still looking a bit embarrassed. Silver sank back on to the bench with a sigh.

“You'd think he'd walked in on us... I don't know,” he trailed off lamely.

Cloud Kicker laughed. Indeed! “He did look a bit flustered. Your notoriety grows, it seems!”

Silver didn't join in with her amusement. “Yeah. I got chewed out by Rose the other day, for no particularly obvious reason. I swear, some ponies...!”

She felt her good mood drain away. “What was it this time?”

“An orchid. Sounds like she really treasured it, too. Whatever, the local brains trust has decided I'm responsible for that, as well,” he sounded uncharacteristically bitter, and more than a little resigned, too.

“Well, you're not, so don't let it get you down,” she pointed out gently, “Anyway, knowing Caramel he'll probably forget about it by the time he reaches town.”

“I hope so. I get a little bored of being treated like a leper after a while,” he said, before trying to lighten the mood. “I'm sorry for being such a wet blanket. You didn't come here to listen to me whinge.”

“That's OK. Sometimes everypony needs somepony to talk to.” A thought struck her and she hesitated for a moment, mulling it over in her mind before she spoke. “Silver, have you ever thought of trying to find out who it really is yourself? I mean, I could help? So would Summer, and lots of ponies.”

He gave her a brief half-smile. “Well, I did think about it but I'm a carpenter, not a detective. We're not exactly known for our Sherclopian deductions! I don't know half the ponies here, and I bet some of them wouldn't even talk to me... I wouldn't really know where to start. And anyway, what am I going to do, hunt them down and build furniture for them until they give in? Maybe mercilessly French polish their kitchen table until they squeal?”

His heavy sarcasm made her squirm uncomfortably. “OK, silly idea,” she capitulated.

“No, not really, but there's other ponies investigating who are better placed for it than I am. I guess I'd better hope one of them gets lucky sooner rather than later,” he said, before adding in a more jovial voice, “Anyway, this is a mystery, so shouldn't I be the hapless stallion in distress? Which I guess would make you Poppy Marelowe.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Sounds pretty close to me, although I don't think I can do the accent too well; 'Lischen, Schweetheart, we can do dis da easchy way, or we can make it hard. Real hard! Ya don't wanna end up with da four concrete horseschoes, capiche?'”

He grinned, the life coming back into his eyes and lighting up his smile. “'Oh, Cloud Kicker, how could you? After all we've been through, you'd throw me to the mob?'” he begged in a melodramatic voice, throwing a hoof over his eyes and pretending to swoon.

She flicked the brim of an imaginary fedora and gave him a cocky smirk. “'Hey, a dame's gotta go what a dame's gotta do!'”

Once again, she noticed how his sense of humour struck sparks from hers to lift the gloomy mood and give the conversation a distinct upswing. Stretching out on the rickety bench they ranged from books and friends to adventures and growing up, all leavened with wit and laughter. As well as thoroughly enjoying herself, she found it relaxing to unwind with him, a lightness in her chest like her heart was soaring on its own under the reddening glow of the setting sun.

And it really was a nice, warm smile.