“Thank you so much, Sassy!” I say as I back out of my sister's shop in Canterlot, The Canterlot Carousel. “I'm sure the dress you'll make with that fabric will be lovely.”

I feel warm and satisfied. Another day, another client helped. This errand was not an official Cutie Mark Crusaders business, but eh. Whatever. Family is family. No matter what goes down, I'll always make time for the fams. That's just how I roll.

Or, at least, that is what I'd like to tell myself.

But the moment I spin around and sweep a gaze across the streets of Canterlot, I am immediately taken aback by how empty and how eerily quiet it is. These streets should be filled with crisscrossing ponies, especially in the capital city of Equestria and in the broad light of day.

But instead, the streets are empty. Empty of all but a white fog.

I wince as I consider this very strange. The fog might explain the absence of other ponies from the streets of Canterlot, but a fog like this should have been scheduled way in advance. Everypony should be notified.

Then it occurs to me that perhaps they have been notified, but since I don't personally live in this city, I might have missed that notification.

A cheeky frown spreads across my face as it occurs to me that Sassy Saddles should have warned me about this if everypony in the city knew.

Oh well. Time to make my way back to Ponyville. As nice as it is to visit Canterlot, Ponyville will always be my home.

So, with a simple shrug, I make my way down the streets. I am bound for the train station back home. The last that I recall, I have plenty of time so I don't rush.

But, as I continue my journey, I hear my own hoof clomps on the cobblestone streets of Canterlot. Normally that is no big deal. I'm a pony so I grew up with these kinds of sounds all my life, although I will say that the mostly dirt streets of Ponyville greatly diminish this kind of sound.

However, whenever I do hear these kinds of sounds, especially in a normally busy street like this, the hoof clomp sound is joined by so many others that they all collect together in a cacophony of noise. It isn't really irritating noise. Just normal. The kind of sound a pony takes for granted.

But here . . . everything feels wrong. The emptiness is wrong. The fog is wrong. My lone hoof clomp sound is wrong.

I'm starting to get scared.

I pause for a moment. Upon doing so, my own hoof clomps silence as well. Replacing that sound is . . .

. . . nothing. Absolutely nothing.

This is wrong. This is so wrong.

“Huh . . . hello?” I call out into the empty fog around me. “Is anypony out there?”

No answer. Not even the slightest sound except for the sound of my own breathing.

I don't know whom I expected to answer me. I suppose I could have accepted anypony. I would gladly accept anypony at this moment. This city is just not meant to be this quiet during the daylight hours.

I shiver. I can feel my fear growing like a shadow claiming my heart. It almost feels like my white, alabaster hide is draining into a gray color.

White glowing fog hangs around me. The silence is deafening. I'm very attuned to music so I pay attention to these kinds of things.

I moan a little, hoping against hope that somepony would hear my distress and take pity on me by answering my lonely call in this empty fog.

It might be my imagination, but the fog even seems to be thickening. I can no longer see down the end of this street. Even the buildings and pushcarts off to my side are starting to vanish as if claimed by the fog. As if the fog is erasing my environment from existence.

I momentarily panic as I imagine the extreme form of this. If there is nothing but fog all around me then I'd totally lose my spatial orientation. Every direction would seem the same as another. Nothing would be visible except the cobblestone under my hooves. I imagine trotting in any direction and encountering nothing but endless fog.

For such white, puffy clouds low to the ground, they oddly seem to have a menacing quality to them at this moment. Normally I think they are pretty. I especially love the way it causes dew to drip from grass.

I trot on. Desperation drives me forward. It isn't intense in me yet but I can feel it growing. I very much do not like this pattern.

I continue. Hoof clomps beneath me, but otherwise thick silence.

As I feared, I am quickly growing convinced that I am lost. I continue, but there isn't much apparent change around me. The movement of cobblestone below is the only true clue that I'm moving anywhere, but I encounter nothing else in that fog.

No buildings.

No street signs.

No street corners.

No horse carriages.

No ponies.

Nothing!

I moan louder with worry. I am growing very distressed.

I increase my trot to a canter. Surely if I go far enough, fast enough, I'll encounter something out in this fog. Some clue to tell me where I am. A street lamp. A statue. Anything! I'll take anything!

But there is nothing. I seem to be lost in an empty, endless void.

I slow to a stop as a troubling thought occurs to me; what if this is why I can't hear anypony else? What if this is what happened to the others? What if this is a magical fog that transports everypony into some endlessly empty dimension? If so, this wouldn't be the first magical menace to plague Equestria.

Normally I do not regret my life's choices. Being a founding member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders has fulfilled my heart in such a way that I can't explain to others.

But this particular moment makes me wish I was a wizard instead. I am a unicorn, after all. In theory, the profession is at least possible to my kind. That's a wonder and privilege that many other kinds of ponies cannot enjoy.

If I was a wizard, maybe I could use my magic horn to dispel this fog or teleport someplace else in Equestria. Boy, I'd sure save a lot of bits since I wouldn't have to use the train all the time!

But, on the other hoof, I kind of enjoy riding the train. Even if I'm alone, there is something soothing about that subtle rocking of the train, watching the terrain pass me by outside the window, or listening to the sound of my own voice as I sing in the somewhat acoustic car of the train. During such times I have plenty of time to stop and think. It gives me time to sort out my plans and arrange my next moves. I've often found it vital.

And sometimes I meet very special ponies on the train.

Well, that and other creatures too lately.

A jolt passes through me when I finally hear another sound out in this endless fog. In this case the slow trot of another pony. It sounds very distant but fairly intense. I have to surmise that it must be a fully-grown pony, unlike me.

“Hello?” I call out into the fog around me. “Can somepony hear me?”

For a moment I am elated. Finally somepony is out there. I feel especially encouraged by the fact that the other hoof clomps pauses for a moment as if to acknowledge my call. Next, I expect that pony to call me back.

But, instead, I hear the hoof clomps resume its journey and nothing else.

“Hello?” I call again. “HELLO!” I cry out louder.

Eerily, no answer, but the hoof clomps resume. From this distance, it is very hard to tell if the hoof clomps are moving towards me or away from me.

I shiver as a danger instinct suddenly claims me. It occurs to me that, if there is somepony out there, it isn't necessarily friendly, though that usually is a safer bet. My species is normally a kind race. Likely that is because the magic of Harmony washes over us all. It's so deeply intrinsic to our nature that most of us don't even question it.

But it isn't universally true. Some ponies have strayed from the norm. Cozy Glow and King Sombra are pretty infamous cases of that.

What if . . . what if the pony those hoof clomps belong to is the reason everypony else has vanished? This sound is the only thing breaking this otherwise deafening silence. That already makes it suspicious.

I might be in danger. I was scared before because of the fog, but I've grown to realize that I'm even more frightened now that I know for sure that I'm not alone out here. Somepony else is out there. A pony that will not answer my call. I can't think of any normal pony that would resist calling back under these circumstances unless it is the villain that caused this fiasco.

Suddenly I realize it is very important to establish if those other hoof clomps are getting closer or more distant.

Then it occurs to me that I better not wait to find out.

I break into a hard gallop. I'm not taking any more chances. I have decided that it no longer matters if those hoof clomps are getting closer or more distant. I will make sure they are growing more distant.

My breathing quickens. I can hear it. I pant, but I also continue.

I must go. I must gallop away! I must retreat from danger!

And I do. It takes me a while to notice, but the sound of the other hoof clomps does eventually fade due to the escalating distance.

After some time I slow to a stop in order to just pause and listen, or at least I try to listen. The sound of my own quickened breath temporarily obscures any other sound but, eventually, it does calm down somewhat.

I listen.

Empty silence greets me.

I breathe a sigh of relief until it occurs to me I'm right back at square one. I'm still lost in the fog. Lost in an endless void.

It also terrifies me to consider the fact that I might have been wrong earlier. What if the other pony would have been friendly? What if he or she would have helped? No pony else seems to be out in this endless fog. Maybe even a villain might be preferable to absolutely nothing.

Lost in the fog . . . for all eternity!

But then my ears twitch as another sound finally greets it. I direct my ears on the top of my head in that direction. I listen to it carefully. Upon doing so, I eventually realize that I hear the sound of those hoof clomps again. It is even more distant this time but it is definitely coming from another direction. In fact, it is now coming from the direction I was galloping towards. If this is the same pony, it's as if he or she teleported ahead of me.

Either that, or there is more than one pony out there.

I try to squash down the panic that tries to bubble up from within me. Instead of that, I quickly analyze my options.

Hoof clomps that were behind me. Hoof clomps that are now ahead of me. Maybe coming towards me or away from me, I still don't know, but it is clear that I'm not totally alone out in this terrible fog after all.

Pony feathers! Am I dreaming? If so, Princess Luna . . . help!

I frown as I recall the former Princess of the Night is now retired. She doesn't make house-calls into ponies’ dreams anymore, does she?

Aside from that, I still haven't established if I'm dreaming at all yet. It might be safer to assume I'm not for the moment just in case the danger around me is mortally real.

I decide to pause for a long while and simply listen. After all, if I start galloping in any direction, the other pony, if indeed it is a pony, would hear my hoof clomps. That might not be the best idea for the moment.

Pony feathers! Now I wish I was a pegasus so I can simply leap up and fly through the air. No guarantees the fog won't just continue in every direction above me as well, but at least it means increasing my odds of escaping those menacing hoof clomps in the fog.

I listen. My breathing slows, but my annoying heart rate increases. Bump-dee-bump-dee-bump rhythmically drums in my eardrums and thus threatening to obscure the sound of the other hoof clomps. Despite that, I eventually realize that the other hoof clomps are indeed drawing closer to me. They are growing very steadily louder. As they do so, they start to echo just slightly as if the sound is bouncing off brick walls that I can't even see anymore in that thick fog.

As a pony, I am a herbivore that likes to travel in herds. I feel so displaced being out here all alone, but in addition to that fact, it also means my species is prey at some primitive level. Our minds have evolved so much beyond mere primitive instincts, but that part of our brain is still there. Right now those instincts are ringing like crazy that I am in serious danger right now!

I slowly start to back off from the direction I hear the approaching hoof clomps. I don't want to make a sound in order to avoid drawing attention, but there are two problems with that strategy.

One; I'm traveling too slow. The other hoof clomps aren't hurried, but they are traveling faster than me, and they are getting closer!

Two; even at my greatly reduced pace, I can still hear the sound of my own hoof clomps. Right now I curse that fact! I really wish I was back in Ponyville with its soft dirt that hides our hoof sounds.

Now, admittedly, my ears are better trained to detect minute sounds. That just comes with the territory of being a singer. Since more of my brain is dedicated to that task, I can detect more subtle tonal shifts than most other ponies can. Just because I can hear my own hoof clomp sounds doesn't mean this quiet stranger can. Besides, I'm closer to the sound of my hoof clomps anyway. I hope the distance between us is enough to conceal my hoof clomps, but the distance between us is decreasing. As it does so, I feel myself drawing ever closer to escalating danger.

Then, spontaneously, the sound of a whistle breaks the otherwise eerie silence.

I gulp hard, but I decide to test this pony's motivation one last time.

“HELLO! IS ANYPONY OUT THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME? CALL BACK TO ME IF YOU CAN!”

There is no change which starts to deeply frighten me. The hoof clomps continue to get closer and the sound of the whistle does not even slightly cease. It is as if this pony never heard me despite how loudly I called out. That might mean this pony is deaf, though it seems a little unlikely such a pony can hold a tune as well as . . . he? . . . does if he really is deaf.

Yeah. From the sound of the whistle, I'm now leaning towards a male gender for this individual but without total certainty.

While there might be many possibilities, my instincts insist that I don't ignore the one that claims this pony heard me alright and is choosing not to call back to frighten me on purpose. If that is the case then he might do so much worse if he finally catches up to my position.

Panic wells inside me again and, this time, it is growing too powerful to fully contain. I moan in fear as my situation feels increasingly more desperate. I might be too helpless to prevent whatever harm is coming my way. Whatever it is, it is in no hurry to come. It is as if he's taking his time to savor my terror.

As primitive instincts rush to claim me, I break into another hard gallop. Once again, I rush away from the sound of the hoof clomps as well as the sound of the whistle. As before, it starts to fade in the escalating distance. Whoever this other pony is does not increase his pace. My hoof clomp sounds are very noticeable now but it provokes no change in this other pony.

While I rush, I once again notice that I encounter no other sign of civilization aside from the cobblestone beneath me. At this point I am certain this is some kind of spatial distortion. I should have run into something else by now, but I haven't. The street does indeed seem endless no matter which direction I choose to go. The only difference in any direction is one of them has the sound of hoof clomps and a whistle which continues to grow more distant.

Until it doesn't. Eventually I notice that the same hoof clomps and whistle is now ahead of me again. It is as if I galloped within an inverse universe.

I stop and listen. As before, it is hard to hear over the sound of my own breathing, but when I eventually am able to, I notice that the other sound is indeed approaching me again. More frightening still, I notice it is much closer than it ever was before.

How did that happen? I galloped away from the sound! This can't be happening!

The whistle echoes off structures I can't even see. Because of that, it starts to surround me. I gradually grow confused which direction it is actually coming from.

The tune itself is fairly innocent. I'd normally dismiss it as casual and jaunty, but the current context puts a nightmarish spin on it. Now it feels like the sound a psycho would make while happily chopping a pony into tiny bits with an ax. Blood would splatter on this mad pony's face and hide as he merrily continues his gruesome work. There is such casual indifference in it, too, as if this has been done many, many times before. If that is true, this psycho is an expert at killing. Someone with that much experience would be very hard to defend one's self against.

Especially against somepony like me. I'm just a little filly!

What do I do? Every direction I gallop, I seem to only be drawing closer to the danger. It seems I cannot escape this being. It's like a looping universe that is steadily growing smaller, thus locking me closer and closer to the danger that intends me harm.

For a brief moment, I move away from where I think the sound is now coming from, but due to the echoes around me, I'm no longer as certain which direction is safe anymore. This makes me hesitate after just a few short steps.

I pitifully moan again in helpless fright.

Princess Luna, help me!

Mother! Father! Rarity! Somepony, anypony, help me! Help me or I'm going to die!

I don't want to die. I have so much to live for! So many ponies to help. So many moments I want to share with my very dear friends.

The whistle around me gets closer and closer. As it does so, it starts to distort. It starts to get a bit shrill as if the pony behind it is steadily revealing that he is, indeed, a monster that intends me harm. No longer does the song sound entirely carefree and innocent. He's shifting it to deliberately be scary.

I have noticed that he's just very gradually dishing out these pieces of evidence one by one. Whoever this pony is is much worse than a mere psycho. This is a pony who also knows psychology at an expert level. A pony who knows how to build fear one layer at a time. Each layer is carefully sculpted and crafted like a true artist.

Everywhere I turn, I realize I am surrounded. There is no direction that seems safe anymore, and even my current spot may lose it's safety soon.

I really don't want to give up and accept my fate, but it feels to me like I simply have no choice. This person is giving me no choice. Whatever he's going to do to me now feels inevitable.

I do have my magic. I can maybe toss him around a little with it, but I really doubt that I can. In the first place, it is very hard to concentrate with this much fear gripping my heart. Secondly, I'm really not the type of pony who can consider harming others in any capacity. Maybe I'd bluff my way into safety by pretending I'd be willing to cause harm with my magic, but that's about it. I draw the line there even if my life is at stake.

However, if other's lives were at stake that I care about . . .

Well, I really don't want to think about that.

I collapse to the ground and tuck my legs beneath me. Since it seems every direction is as dangerous as another, I just painfully accept my fate and wait for it to come to me. As I do so, I am desperately hoping that this person will find some mercy in his otherwise black heart.

The whistle increases until it seems to reverberate all around me. It surrounds me. It penetrates me. It feels like a predator just waiting before taking a painful bite out of me. I brace for the pain as much as I can. I cringe, whimper, and squint so tightly that I eventually close my eyes entirely.

But then, all of a sudden, the whistling stops. I also gradually notice that I'm not in horrible pain yet so I slowly start to open my eyes again.

The whistling is gone. The fog is gone. I'm still alone, but I'm now surrounded on four sides by tall brick walls that seems tucked away in some hidden alley of Canterlot.

Although, judging from the architecture of that which surrounds me, it eventually dawns on me that brick walls like this are too out of character for Canterlot itself. That city is way too classy for this.

“Caaaaaaw!” calls a raven that lands on a metal rail at the edge of a building ahead of me. It skips a few steps as if needing to to cancel the remainder of its momentum. After that, it turns to face me.

I sniffle and wipe my tears away with the back of my hoof. As I look up at the raven, I smile a bit to myself. Finally seeing the company of some other creature is comforting, and there isn't much a raven can do to harm me anyway.

In fact . . .

“Hello, Mr. Raven,” I cheerfully greet as I crawl up to stand again. “Were you lost and scared in the fog too?”

The raven just silently stares at me.

“I was lost too. That was really scary!” I confess to the raven.

The raven just stares at me.

“But maybe we can help each other?” I suggest innocently, then frown. “Gosh, now I really wish I had Fluttershy's gift of talking to animals, although . . . if I can get you to deliver a message for me to her . . .”

I leave the thought hanging.

The raven just stares at me.

“Mr. Raven?” I ask in a little more frightened voice. The way this bird just seems to stare right through my soul is gradually growing unnerving.

Finally he makes a move. The raven slowly spreads his wings to his side. There is a bend and the middle point, making two arch shapes to each side of him. At the same time, the black feathers on him start to stand on end, making him appear just a bit bigger.

“Mr. Raven?” I repeat with greater worry.

“Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!” he cries more deeply.

Just then I notice shadows thicken unnaturally around him. A shadow stretches from his diminutive body but grows frighteningly large as it envelopes the alleyway. It's almost as if the sun is suddenly setting in a hurry, but what it actually looks like is this raven is projecting darkness like a star would project light. The shadow seems to swallow the light as if consuming it.

“Mr. Raven, you're scaring me!” I complain in fright in a shaky voice.

Just then I noticed that a steady hum is rising in the background. When I finally realize it is there, it also occurs to me it was there before but too soft to detect at first. Now, however, it is quickly rising. Like the frightening whistle earlier, the menacing hum starts to surround me.

As illogical as it sounds, it dawns on me that this raven was somehow responsible for the hoof clomps and whistling earlier. Maybe he changed his shape somehow. In any case, the monster has finally caught up to me. I am staring at him right now, and he is staring back.

The humming grows louder. It becomes almost deafening. As it does so, I sink to my knees again. Tears blur my eyes. Snot clogs my nostrils. I don't know what is about to happen to me, but it probably isn't good.

“Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwww!” the raven cries out menacingly. During that moment, his tongue sticks out far too long to be normal. It is a bit less than half of his entire body length.

Then, at the last second, the caw sound shifts to a terrifying screech.

Or maybe that is the sound of my own voice.

Author's Notes:

Oh no! What's going to happen to Sweetie Belle?

Well, you'll have to find out each week on Saturday if all goes to plan.

Here we go again. A start of a new series.

When it comes to writing for non-OC characters, it is my aim to make them feel like show-canon characters who may or may not be in situations they would face in the show.

It is also my hope that this story can re-light fire and passion for this story severe enough to even provoke comments from those who normally stay silent. Please let me know what you think because it provides me with the incentive to continue.

Something else to note about this story; because it has the mystery genre tag (which is the first of its kind among my fanfics on this site), I'll withhold other genre tags that apply to this story until it becomes pertinent to reveal them, otherwise they'd act as a minor spoiler. I'll also note in the author's note of each chapter exactly when the story gained the new genre tag. But, once it's added to the story, it shall remain there from then on. If the story needs to lift the rating from T to M, I'll likewise inform you in the author's note of the chapter that caused the story to change to that.