Chapter Two

The Enchantress

The night was chill and crisp, the sky a perfect field of stars, free of even a scrap of cloud or errant light. After almost a year of oppressive tree canopies, the sense of openness was both breathtakingly beautiful and a little frightening.

It seemed prudent, after all, to wait until darkness fell before undertaking this kind of activity.

Trixie crept along the shimmering, snowy track to the low, glowing collection of houses that she knew to be Ponyville. Her plan, in the end, was a very simple one: first, she would try to find a vegetable garden with more than enough to spare, filled with winter produce, such as it was. Secondly, she planned to take enough to last her for a few days, but also hopefully an amount small enough to easily be blamed on garden pests. Then she would return to the forest until the food ran out, and repeat the endeavor until the weather’s anger eased.

Her stomach clenched almost painfully at the ‘plan’, but she knew that she had no choice.

Of course, it was demeaning, having to resort to these means to survive, but Trixie’s entire stay in the forest had been demeaning in one way or another, and this was not so much of a greater stoop. What rankled most was the guilt, knowing that she was stealing from ponies who already had enough perfectly understandable reasons to despise her.

Promise yourself, Trixie. Promise yourself that once this winter’s over you’ll get back to civilization and find yourself a decent shrink before you end up killing yourself.

I fully intend to. I just wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Isn’t this what cutie marks are for?

She never had the chance to answer her mind’s own question, because at that moment she caught sight of a house ahead of her. Its location surprised her; it was beyond the outskirts of town, nearer to the Everfree border than most ponies would feel safe building. Were it not for the warmly glowing windows and smoking chimney, Trixie might have mistaken it for a hillock in the moonlight. The roof was almost entirely covered in grass and shrubbery, blending the place down smoothly into its sizeable and lively gardens.

At the sight of the house—obviously somepony’s home, somepony who lived their daily life in warmth and comfort—Trixie was seized by an insane urge to simply gallop up to the door and beg for forgiveness and lodgings from whoever lived within. Instead, she shook her head, forcibly suppressing the thought. She had no right to expect forgiveness from these ponies, let alone houseroom.

What did pique her interest, however, was the spacious back garden. In fact, a closer inspection revealed that to call it a ‘garden’ utterly failed to do the place justice. It could only be described as a menagerie. It seemed that every animal imaginable was hopping, flapping or crawling dozily around on the lawn, the sun-loving creatures settling down for the night, and those of a more nocturnal bent sluggishly beginning to awaken. A squat wooden chicken coop sat beside the lawn, but beyond that the area was remarkably unrestricted.

Some of the animals were evidently just visitors in need of food or rest, rather than more permanent residents. Trixie noted that these passers-by would occasionally edge in or out of the garden through a clearly-deliberate gap in the fence, before heading back out into the meadows or the Everfree.

Why don’t the others just escape? Trixie wondered idly, as she approached. What’s stopping them?

Around the edge of the well-populated grassy expanse stood various stone bowls, dotted here and there for the perusal of the animals, each one laden with various fruits and vegetables. If the spacious and well-tended allotments around the front of the house were anything to go by, whoever lived here provided not only for themselves, but also for their veritable army of pets.

Trixie let out a sigh of relief. As long as she did not alert any guard dogs that might be lurking amongst the huge variety of animals, then this outing would be far easier than she had ever imagined.

And it’s not as if it’s wrong to take some, she thought to herself. It’s obvious this food’s set out for any animal in need, so surely whoever put it out wouldn’t mind me taking a few stalks of something.

So that’s what you are now, is it, Trixie? An animal? This is what it’s come to?

She had reached the fence, and with utmost care edged around the perimeter of the garden until the reached the narrow gap in the fence.

I’m living like one, eating like one, and surviving like one. At this stage I might as well be.

Staying low, she squeezed between the wooden posts. A few animals glanced her way, but for the most part they were too sleepy or preoccupied to bother with her. A wallaby chattered a little questioningly in her direction, but she ignored him and presently he returned to his rest.

Don’t whine about it, you chose this life.

And Celestia strike me down if I know for one second why. It’s true. I need help.

A sudden noise of creaking wood snapped her out of her introspection. The front door of the cottage, out of sight around the front of the grassy building, had swung ajar. Somepony was coming.

Her heart racing suddenly, Trixie looked around wildly for a place to hide. Gentle hoofbeats were fast approaching, and with no other option open Trixie dived behind the chicken coop and, dropping herself to the ground, prayed that the silvery darkness would make up for the utterly inadequate concealment that the raised wooden boxed offered. She watched fearfully, looking out from under the coop, chest leaping almost visibly as the hoofbeats grew closer.

Had she been spotted from a window? She could see no other reason for anypony to visit their garden at ten o’clock at night.

Then, a pegasus mare rounded the corner. Her primrose coat was made silver by the glowing night, her carnation-pink mane falling in a sweep around her face. She wore a striped scarf to protect her from the worst of the cold, and her eyes… her eyes stole the breath from Trixie’s lungs. They were the deepest aqua, and like the rest of her were made all the more magical by the moon’s gaze. There was a gentleness in those eyes; a genuine peace as she stood alone, looking around at her pets. No, not her pets. These animals were quite obviously her friends.

Trixie suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if she were observing something deeply private and personal. She tucked her tail in nervously, ensuring that she was as well-hidden as she could possibly be.

The canary-yellow mare picked her way across the garden with an astonishing, carefree grace, smiling gently at the drowsy animals as she made her progress. It was almost a surprise to see that she left so much as a hoof-print behind her in the snow.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a couple of bats flitted down and alighted upon the pegasus’s back, nestling into her wings and chittering a greeting in their scarcely-audible squeals. She smiled at them over her shoulder, fluffing up her feathers to offer them warmth, but did not break stride. Kneeling down, careful not to dislodge the bats, the pegasus eyed with sympathy a badger whose hind leg was bandaged right up to the haunch. It was clearly for this creature’s benefit that she had come out tonight.

Then, she spoke. Her voice was incredibly quiet, a murmur away from inaudibility, but it cut through the crisp night air like a knife and Trixie caught every word. “Is your leg feeling a little better now?”

The badger gesticulated a little irritably, but made no vocal response.

The mare sighed, gently raising the animal’s leg, inspecting the white bindings with an expert’s eye. “You poor thing,” she cooed reassuringly. “I know it’s itchy, but just be patient and you’ll be running around again in a couple of days. I promise.”

She sounded sincere, and after a moment, the badger jerked its head in reluctant acquiescence. The look in its eyes said quite clearly that it would accept this from no other pony, and only grudgingly from this one.

Trixie blinked in astonishment. She had never known it was possible to achieve such a rapport with wild animals. Here, she knew, was a pony with an extraordinary talent. At that moment, however, that fact only barely impinged upon her.

Something about the mare’s voice was incredibly soothing, almost hypnotic, and she could not help but be calmed by it. Her heart-rate was normal once more, and she felt, for the first time in years, a sense of genuine peace, a peace to match the calm in the unknown mare’s eyes. Life in the forest had never allowed her to lower her guard, even in times of relative relaxation, so the feeling now was almost alien to her, but no less wonderful for its unfamiliarity.

“Now then,” murmured the pegasus, “you try and get some sleep. I know it’s difficult, but if you can just drop off to sleep it’ll feel so much better by morning.”

The badger lowered its head a little uncertainly and curled up into a ball, although its wrapped-up hind leg kept twitching with the obviously unpleasant itching sensation. Its breathing was fast and shallow. Sitting at its side, the primrose mare fell to gently stroking the badger’s back. After a few more moments, she began humming a low, scarcely-audible lullaby that Trixie did not recognize.

She sat like that for several minutes, stroking and humming, until the badger’s leg ceased to twitch, and its chest began to move with the slow regularity of sleep.

Smiling fondly down at the creature, the pegasus stood almost soundlessly, and began to make her way back to the house. The bats slid out from beneath her wings, and took flight again, shimmering away into the night.

Part of Trixie’s brain was screaming at her to reveal herself, to fling herself on the mercy of this unknown pony. Somehow, she knew that she would receive nothing but unconditional kindness and help from this beautiful, enigmatic mare. She would be safe, protected, never left in fear of starvation or cold or the jaws of any one of the million monsters that filled the cold, grim Everfree.

In the end, though, she did not move. Some irrational fear held her paralyzed in place, rooted beneath the coop until the sound of the front door closing sent her reverie shattering like sugar glass.

It was then Trixie realized, as she rose quietly from beneath the henhouse, that her cheeks were a burning scarlet, for reasons that she could not place. This mare’s menagerie of friends quite obviously meant everything to her, and something told Trixie that those quiet, intimate moments with them were not something that the pegasus would share willingly with just any ponies. These moments were surely meant to be seen only by those whom she trusted implicitly. This knowledge made Trixie feel every bit like the intruder that she was.

Hastily, not wanting to taint such a pure and peaceful place for any longer than necessary, Trixie scooped up, from the nearest bowl, a pile of random food with an absent-minded flare of her magic.

Maybe I was wrong about this place.

Squeezing back through the fence with her spoils clutched to her back by restraining tendrils of lilac flame, her thoughts began whirling, whipped up from the stagnant cycles into which they had fallen for so much of the last year’s repetitive, dangerous life. She closed her eyes for a second, as she began to trudge away through the snow.

Maybe next time. Maybe next time she would not be such a coward. There would be a next time; she knew that now. Her conscious mind insisted that her motive was the food so obviously set out for those in need, but when she closed her eyes, the eyes of the unknown mare swam in her vision, moon-kissed and enchanting.

As she began the trek back into the forest with her head slung low, she could not know that those same eyes were watching curiously from a half-curtained bedroom window, gazing at the dejected mare’s silhouette as she slunk slowly away. A single, sympathetic tear fell, leaving a miniscule stain on the wood of the windowsill.

With a sigh of magical exertion, Trixie finally allowed the enchanted glow which bore her prize to ebb away, and the food fell with a chorus of muted thuds into a stone-lined hollow that she had spent the day digging. She had also spent her time making a rough ‘lid’ of woven willow to cover her modest cornucopia as thieving rabbits were not an indignity that Trixie intended to suffer twice. Indeed, she took it as a point of pride to not allow the little sneaks a second shot at her supplies.

There was enough in her makeshift larder to last probably two or three days; more, if she happened across some of the few provisions that a forest in the grip of winter had to offer.

The fire she had concocted was still burning well, and the tired mare tossed a few more logs into the flames, kicking up a cloud of embers and smoke with a satisfyingly sharp crackle.

The persistent heat meant that a large patch of ground was thawed and dry, and Trixie could not suppress a groan of relief as she pulled her rush-blanket over from the hastily-repaired shelter in which she slept. She then collapsed back onto it by the fire, the woven plants providing a little comfort compared to the rock-hard ground. Her stomach growled, and she half-smiled; tonight, at least, she would eat well.

As she threw neat slices of swede and broad bean into the battered old pot, waiting for the water to come to the boil, her thoughts kept drifting back to the odd, grassy house on Ponyville’s outskirts, and more specifically to its intriguing inhabitant.

Now that she had put some distance, and the best part of an hour, between herself and those eyes, she was growing more and more convinced that she had simply fallen victim to another of her all-too-common leaps of mood and emotion. Through the eyes of hindsight, the magic of the mare’s voice was dulled, her poise and grace diminished, and her rapport with nature a mere tawdry quirk.

She had not eaten properly in weeks, Trixie reasoned. Most likely, her spirits had been so buoyed by the sight of such plenty, to be freely taken by any creature in need, that she had naturally seen the pegasus responsible as some kind of paragon of kindness. She told herself firmly that she had, in reality, seen nothing more special than an ordinary mare going out at night to check on her pets.

Trixie wanted to be angry with herself for becoming so distracted on what proved to be a simple expedition, but the prospect of real food had lifted her spirits to the point where staying morose was nigh-impossible. Nevertheless, she vowed to make her next excursion in the daylight, and watch for the mare’s appearance from a distance, just to prove to herself that she was nothing but a normal pegasus. After all, a pony with so many pets would doubtless need to check on them with great regularity, so catching sight of her again would hardly qualify as a challenge.

The unicorn yawned widely, her eyelids heavy, idly stirring the pot with a tendril of magic, as midnight wore ever closer.

“I… I’m sorry, Trixie. I can’t do this anymore.”

A grassy hilltop road, the midsummer sun blazing overhead. The city of Manehattan spread out beneath them, glittering. Two hitched caravans, side-by-side, one cluttered with the wares of a trader, the other filled with the trappings of a stage magician. A tearful palomino mare, strong and rough-edged from her time on the road, and at her side, an immaculately groomed sapphire showmare, an expression of blank shock and hurt on her frozen face.

The breath of time seemed momentarily to be held.

“I can’t live if I’m watching you get consumed like this. I love you, Trixie, but sometimes I don’t know if that’s who you are anymore.” Something close to anger flashed in her glistening eyes. “Can’t you see that you’re starting to believe your own act?”

“I’m not!” Trixie exclaimed desperately. “Rosemary, the Great and Powerful Trixie’s just a persona; you’ve seen the way she draws the crowds.” She tried to move closer to the mare, but the shafts holding her in place at the front of her caravan held her fast. “I’m still your Trixie,” she choked.

Rosemary shook her head, breaking eye contact and looking hopelessly down at the earth. “I’ve heard that once too often,” she said, quietly. “I can see it getting worse, too. I’ll hear you refer to yourself by name outside of shows, and you’re doing it more and more lately.” She sighed. “It’s not like we haven’t talked about this before!” she burst out suddenly, tears running freely down her face now. “Trixie, I can’t bear to see you destroying yourself like this. If you go much further down this road, you’ll end up in a place where there’s no room for anypony but yourself in your life, and I’ve got to stop this now before it comes to that.”

She looked up almost shyly at Trixie, her eyes and stained cheeks shining. “If this is what it takes to bring you to your senses, then I’ll… I’ll be doing you a k-kindness.” Her voice was broken with tears, and almost inaudible. “I… I’m s-sorry. Goodbye T-Trixie.”

With that, she began to walk away, her cart rumbling and jangling behind her. Trixie wanted more than anything to go after her, but she knew deep inside that it would do no good whatsoever, and in any case her hooves might as well have been cast in lead. She watched, scarcely comprehending what had happened, as the mare she loved walked down the hillside track, turned left into the trail through the woods, and was lost to sight.

Within ten seconds, the sound of the cart bearing her wares had faded out of earshot, and Rosemary had gone.

Trixie stood as if rooted to the spot. She did not know for how long she remained in place, as waves of numb shock crashed over her. Rosemary had gone.

All of the strength had left her knees, and she found herself supported only by the yoke that bound her to her caravan. Only then did the tears begin to fall. It felt as if a vacuum had formed in the centre of her chest. She had driven away the mare of her dreams; she had driven away the one mare who could see through her as if she were quite transparent. What hope had she now?

You don’t need her, spoke up a snide yet somehow reassuring voice in the back of her mind.

Of course I need her. I can’t live without her.

No you don’t, cooed the voice, remember who you are. You’re great. You’re powerful. You don’t need petty, ordinary little mares like her.

I don’t feel great or powerful right now. I love her; I still love her.

She left you because she’s jealous of you. Couldn’t you see the anger and the fear in her eyes when you’d tell everypony the amazing things you’ve accomplished? You’re the mare who vanquished an ursa major single-hoofed.

I’m not! That’s just a story, and you know it!

You outgrew her so, so long ago now, Trixie.

But… she cared about me. I… I don’t understand why she’d…

The voice suddenly turned cold. She provided entertainment on the long journeys, and she knew the right places to lick. You, on the other hoof, are worth so much more than that little whore.

Don’t call her that… don’t you dare call her that, she wasn’t just…

The voice cut across her, snapping as if its patience was wearing thin. Listen to me. You’re the Great and Powerful Trixie, so dry your eyes, and show the world that you’re the most powerful unicorn who ever lived. Forget her. Forget her, and it’ll numb the pain.

The pain. The pain of losing Rosemary throbbed constantly like a dull ache in the pit of her stomach, draining her appetite, her happiness, her will to live. I need to. I need to forget her.

You wish you’d never known her, don’t you? You wish she’d never been a part of your life, so she could never have hurt you like this.

I do wish that. She hung her head, defeated. A rising anger was bubbling in her chest as she railed against the hurt. This… this is all her fault.

That’s right, Trixie. It is. But now, she’s not holding you back anymore. Become who you really are, Trixie. Become me, and I can help you to forget her.

Her final tear broke away from the bright blue fur of her cheek, splashing down inaudibly into the grassy lane below. The showmare looked up, a new determination burning in her eyes; a new hunger. She threw a contemptuous sneer into the trees, amongst which the mare who had tried all that she could to save her was even now walking away.

Become me. Become yourself.

She smiled; an arrogant, carefree grin. No further tears formed in her hardened eyes.

The Great and Powerful Trixie, she thought to herself, likes the sound of that.

Then, the scene dissolved, with such speed that she could not so much as scream. The mountains on the horizon melted into a liquid haze, the town crumpled and shattered, and then the earth beneath her hooves dissolved to nothingness, and she was falling, falling into inky blackness.

Then, silence. The midnight air was chill, the full moon bright overhead. She was lying in a meadow on her back, the grass pleasantly soft against her withers and haunches.

A soft, melodious voice sounded, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere.

“Shh, now. You’re alright… you’re alright.”

Somepony was stroking her mane and neck with luxurious, calming motions, whispering comfort in her ear. The fetlocks against her fur felt like warm silk. With what seemed an enormous effort, she turned her head to meet the eyes of whoever had found her in this strange, vulnerable state.

It was the pegasus; the unknown mare from the outskirts of Ponyville. Her long, carnation mane cascaded around her face, almost tickling Trixie’s forehead. Her empathic aqua eyes were dazzling.

“Who are you?” Trixie breathed.

“That’s not important,” murmured the primrose pegasus. She leaned down, her breath hot in the chill night air, and kissed the supine mare gently on the lips. She held the contact for scarcely a moment, an eternity too little for Trixie to even begin to appreciate the nuances of the mare’s intoxicating scent, before pulling back and smiling down at her. “What matters is who you decide to be.”

She began to nuzzle the unicorn’s cheek and neck with a loving, comforting diligence. She sank slowly down to lie down at Trixie’s side, occasionally letting out little purrs of enjoyment as she continued her soothing work.

Trixie felt herself relaxing under the mare’s calming ministrations, and gave a long, low sigh.

Then, she stiffened with shock as the mare’s tongue slipped smoothly into her ear, exploring the contours of the supple, sensitive flesh. The pegasus snuggled up close to the former showmare, draping a sensual forehoof over her belly. After the initial surprise, Trixie had to admit that the twin sensations of soft fur and a warm, gentle tongue were deeply pleasurable; an undeniable, rising arousal was gnawing hot in the pit of her stomach.

“Who are you going to be, Trixie?” the mare whispered, her breath dancing hot in Trixie’s ear. Her warm, curvaceous form pressed up tightly against the unicorn, as her hooves began to roam teasingly.

Trixie let out a low moan as the mare’s untraceable scent overwhelmed her senses.

Then, with a playful giggle, the pegasus bit down sharply on the tip of the ear that she still held between her lips.

The sapphire mare yelped aloud, then her eyes flew open, and she woke with a start, breathing hard.

It took her a second to realize that she was still alone in the chill of the Everfree, the clouded and moonless night pressing in on all sides.

She had dreamt of the moment Rosemary had left her a great many times since she came to the forest, but it had been a long time since the images had been quite so vivid or upsetting. Her stomach was full for the first time in weeks, and her sleep was correspondingly deeper.

Looking back now, the day her former love had abandoned her had been the day when an unpleasant pattern had morphed into a full-fledged downward spiral. That had been the day when the Great and Powerful Trixie had ceased to be her creation, and had instead become her life.

Trixie lay back on her bed of rushes, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. Of course, that had been the first time her dreams had been intruded in that way; ordinarily her mind stayed within the realms of memory as she slept.

The unknown pegasus’s eyes floated before her in the blackness, belying her earlier certainty that the primrose mare had been made enchanting merely by the hazing hands of hunger and moonlight. The ghost of her tongue’s caress drifted across Trixie’s mind, and her ear twitched reflexively, even though the memory was merely of a dream.

With a pang of something close to shame, she became aware of a damp, tingling warmth between her haunches, in spite of the bitingly cold air.

Tomorrow, she decided, with a sense of finality. She needed to disabuse herself of this ridiculous obsession in her subconscious mind. I’ll go back tomorrow.

She needed to prove to herself, once and for all, that this mare was nothing other than quite ordinary. She would see her away from the moonlight’s gaze, stripped of her magic by the cruel flush of dawn.

But still… those eyes. If she wanted, that mare could hold half the world, enchanted, in those eyes.

Angrily, Trixie shook her head with a snort. She rolled over and closed her eyes tightly, as if to keep the world away.

This time, when sleep at last found her again, it was deep and silent. As she felt herself drifting, she welcomed oblivion like an old friend.

Oblivion was so much simpler.