Another evening had passed along with another busy morning. It was mid-afternoon once more and Twilight had gotten the third line in the ancient spell down. The fourth had been easy enough for her; she was starting to get more and more used to the grammatical rules from long ago. Previewing the fifth and sixth verses, she noticed that the first halves of each were the same. Likely, the way it was written was meant to be almost ritualistic in its execution. To Twilight, that just meant less learning.

"Shouldn't be too long now," the unicorn stated. "At this pace, I should have the last two parts down by tonight. The second half of this whole incantation is fairly repetitive."

"Indeed. I'm impressed with how fast you've gotten this down. Perhaps later, we can attempt to hold a conversation using only this language?" Celestia joked. As serious as things were, she needed to keep Twilight at ease at best she could and keep her mind off everything that had been happening.

"I don't know if I've figured all that out yet. I'm always willing to learn though. Maybe after I've used this we can try to."

Twilight resumed practicing the fifth verse when she paused, Gilda appearing in her thoughts.

"What's on your mind?" Celestia asked.

"Just thinking about what happened to Gilda again. Trying to figure out who else she may have a grudge with. We went over the rest of Ponyville when we spoke to Private Eye a few nights ago and couldn't think of anypony."

"Well, aside from the Crystal Empire, where else did you and your friends visit?"

"Let's see, we've been to Appleloosa, Dodge Junction, um... we were able to get to Cloudsdale with that cloud-walking spell.. been to Canterlot obviously.. hmm.. the Crystal Empire like you said. I can't think of anywhere else we went at the moment. Why?"

The Princess rubbed her chin in contemplation. An idea was beginning to form. She realized, based on Spike's letter, that the detective had already sent warnings ahead to everypony he could think of. Perhaps a notice from royalty would garner more immediate attention. Though she didn't find it necessary to send correspondence to the authorities in any towns Pinkie hadn't visited. Unless she had become completely unhinged, there was at least a method to her madness that they were aware of.

A quill and several sheets of parchment popped into existence in front of Celestia. She quickly began to write, rousing Twilight's curiosity.

"Princess? What are you up to?"

She continued writing as she addressed her student. "Well, we know Spike and Private Eye have gotten in touch with who they could. I don't know what they said, but we do know, based on your encounter with Pinkie and how you were able to escape, that a good, sudden jolt of pain from the waking world is enough to bring you out of the nightmares. I'm going to send a few letters to the mayors of the places you've been and tell them to issue a.. well, warning isn't the right word.. more like a suggestion from me."

"I don't follow."

The first of the notices evaporated and the mist floated out the balcony's open door, on its way to its intended destination.

Celestia continued, clarifying. "If everypony had a partner to sleep by, with proper preparations, they can forcefully wake their friend, whether using a small bit of fire, poking at them with something sharp, whatever works. I'm also asking those in charge to call emergency meetings to inform the citizens of these instructions. Even though the situation is dire, they may not respond so quickly to a missive from a detective as they would from me. If this works, we could prevent the worst from happening."

"What about the nightmares themselves? Won't ponies start to wonder what was happening if suddenly Pinkie shows up and tries to kill them?"

"We'll dismiss it as just night terrors, nothing more."

Twilight boggled at the Princess' actions. Outright lying to her subjects was something she never expected out of her teacher.

"That.. just doesn't seem right. Shouldn't you at least tell them what would be happening?"

"The last thing we need is for ponies to start panicking. The first thing that they would do is try to fight off rest, and we know fatigue takes its toll not only on the body but on the mind as well. Who knows what they could end up doing to themselves or to others in such a situation?" Celestia said as she finished putting together the second letter.

"I suppose that makes sense. I just hope it works."

"So do I."

The sun was starting to set in the dusty little town of Appleloosa. The orange and red tints painting the sky blended with the ground so well that one could have a hard time seeing where one began and the other ended. A gentle, cool breeze tickled the coats of the celebrating citizenry.

It had been a year to the day when the ponies of Appleloosa and the buffalo tribe of the plains put aside their grudge, learned to work together and share the land in harmony. It was a festive occasion that had the streets full of party goers from both sides singing and dancing merrily. It seemed like everypony in town and every buffalo in the herd were present. The most popular treats for the celebration were, of course, the famous apple pies that made it all possible.

However, sitting alone in front of the local store, was Braeburn. Despite the joy filling the air, he could help but feel horrible. It was just a week ago that he heard his cousin Applejack had mysteriously burned to death in her home in the middle of the night. So far, nopony had any answer as to what happened. Foul play was suspected, but there were no leads.

The last thing the brokenhearted stallion wanted to do was celebrate. But, Braeburn was fairly well known around town, being one of the suppliers of the trees that made up their orchards. He had to make an appearance, whether he wanted to or not. As hard as he tried, he couldn't maintain a smile for longer than it took to greet an occasional passerby. From behind, another pony familiar to the townsfolk sat down next to him, a frosty mug of cider in hoof.

"How're you holdin' up, Brae?" Sheriff Silverstar asked.

"Alright, Ah guess. Ah just don't wanna be here, y'know?"

"I understand. Still going to be a while before the party starts to break up. I don't suppose you've had anything to drink? I know that kind of thing sometimes helps ease the pain a bit," the Sheriff suggested.

"Naw, ain't had nothin'. Ah always felt that that kinda thing was meant for good times like this. Wouldn't help me none," Braeburn said sadly.

The Apple felt a hoof on his shoulder. "Look at it this way, son. You think Applejack would want to see you moping around like this? Course not! She'd want you up and about and having fun with what you have right now. I ain't suggesting you forget about her, nothing like that. Remember the good times you had and go from there. Celebrate her life, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, Ah know what you're gettin' at. Just been rough is all."

"Will just take time. You'll be OK." Silverstar looked just down the road and saw two friends approaching. Judging by the looks on their faces, they saw what bad shape Braeburn was in as well. "Besides," the Sheriff continued, "your friends wouldn't want to see you like this, especially one in particular."

"Huh?"

Braeburn's question was met with a pointing hoof. He looked and saw Chief Thunderhooves and Little Strongheart a few paces away. Seeing the young buffalo helped bring a small smile to his face.

"Hello, Sheriff. Hello, Braeburn," Thunderhooves said pleasantly. "Quite the celebration today, isn't it?"

"Yessiree! Been great so far!"

The little calf looked away nervously and her cheeks flushed when her gaze met Braeburn's. For a moment, the young stallion thought that maybe he could forget about how lousy he felt. Unfortunately, the bit of happiness faded as fast as it came.

"Braeburn? You OK?" Little Strongheart asked.

"Not really. Just.. just thinkin' 'bout Applejack."

She sat beside him and rested a hoof on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about what happened. I wish there was something I could do."

"S'alright, darlin'. Ah'll be fine."

Little Strongheart laid her head against Braeburn. Though he was grateful for the support, he was too upset to show it. Silverstar cleared his throat and glanced at Chief Thunderhooves.

"Say Chief, want to go get a drink? I think the Salt Lick has this new brew they made up for tonight."

"Sure, Sheriff. Lead the way."

As they drifted further away from the grieving couple, the stallion peeked back and grinned. He had noticed Braeburn and Little Strongheart hanging around together a lot over the last several months, but his friend never really said much about what they'd do while they were out and about. But, he had his suspicions. It was becoming obvious to Thunderhooves as well back in his tribal home too. Neither party had a problem with the two seeing each other. Besides bringing them some happiness, it helped strengthen the bond the town and the tribe shared.

"Hopefully she'll be able to bring him out of his funk," Silverstar remarked. "He's been miserable for a few days now, but that can't be helped."

"What's wrong?"

"His cousin Applejack was.. found dead about a week ago in her home. Nopony has any idea what happened."

"Oh my. I'm sorry, Sheriff. I hope he'll be alright."

"I think he will be after a while. See?"

The large buffalo glanced back. Little Strongheart and Braeburn were curled up together, doing their best to get through the stallion's heartache.

"Yes, he should be. Those two have been getting rather close lately. She hasn't been exactly keeping it a secret around the village. Granted, she hasn't said anything outright, but we're all pretty aware of how she feels."

Silverstar nodded as they walked to the watering hole. "Well, I'm glad they seem to be happy. But, I ain't gonna lie, Chief. There isn't any new drink the bar has. I was just trying to give them some privacy. But, I'll still get you a drink or two. Everything's free today thanks to the party."

Thunderhooves chuckled at the revelation. "That's OK, Sheriff. I had a feeling that's what you were up to. How have things been here in town otherwise?"

"Quiet as usual. Nothing really ever happens here that makes me have to fill out reports or nothin'. I did get some weird letter from a.. oh, what was the name?.. Private Eye or something the other day. Said some nutjob pony got loose and ran off to who knows where. Haven't seen anything unusual yet. Hopefully it'll stay that way."

As the buffalo and stallion continued their trek to the tavern, they passed the sheriff's office. It had been locked up, closed for the evening, about an hour ago. Through the window to the right of the front door, Silverstar's room, a brief flash appeared from inside. Though it was noticeable enough to be seen in the fading sunlight, neither of them saw it.

A scroll embroidered with the Equestrian royal seal landed on his desk.

The torches were lit up and down the streets of Appleloosa. The night had arrived a little over an hour ago, and a few minutes previous, Silverstar and Chief Thunderhooves stumbled out of the Salt Lick, laughing loudly and smelling of what would normally be expensive booze. The small stallion was somehow standing up straight as the large, inebriated buffalo laid a drunken foreleg across his comparatively tiny back.

"I.. haha!.. I can't believe you said that to her, Sheriff!"

"I'm tellin' ya, she was comin' on to me, and.. and it was.. it was so terrible, I had to.. to embarrass her like that. She left me alone after that, I tell you what!" Silverstar slurred, poking his friend in the chest as they enjoyed a merry story on the way out.

"Oh goddess, that's great!" The Chief looked up, his eyes swimming, at the full moon in the clear, twinkling sky. "Getting kind of late. Should.. should round up the tribe and s-start heading home."

"Nah, nah, come with me. I can.. probably set up s-somethin' in my office. I've caught myself s-s-sleeping there sometimes on real slow days. 'Sides, I th-think I saw a few of your brothers leaving with a f-f-f-few of the town's mares, so I'm not sure if they'd want to go anywhere just yet!" the sheriff said, chuckling in a fit. His level of intoxication was no better than Thunderhooves'.

The buffalo glanced around, barely able to stand up straight. "Hm. Where's Strongheart?"

"Aw, she's probably with Braeburn somewhere."

"Those two make a cute couple."

"Yeah."

Thunderhooves took another step and promptly fell, chin first, into the dirt. He rubbed his forehead, already feeling the painful punishment that came with too much alcohol as his head continued to spin. Silverstar stumbled back a step, drunkenly surprised at what happened to the tumbling buffalo.

"Whoa! Easy, big guy! Come on, let's.. go to my office."

With a weak tug, the stallion helped the chief up to his hooves and they slowly made their way down the block. When they arrived, Silverstar reached for his pocket four times before his hoof finally landed in it, pulling out the keys. After jabbing at the lock several times, grunting in increased frustration, he finally connected and unlocked the door, leading his friend inside and to the main area on the right, next to his office.

On the far side of the room was a large, blue couch where ponies would wait before being summoned for questioning or making statements. Right now, to Thunderhooves, it was the most wonderful couch in the world, even if he may have been a little big for it. They walked clumsily to the sofa and the bison sat down as gently as his girth, and level of intoxication, would allow. Somehow, the couch didn't collapse.

"I'm gonna turn in in my office right over there," Silverstar said, nodding backwards and almost toppling over, "so if you need anything, just let me know. I don't think I'd.. make it home right now."

"Thanks, sheriff. I'll s-see you in the morning."

"Night!"

Thunderhooves plopped his head down on the couch's wonderfully soft arm and almost immediately passed out. Silverstar's door shut behind him and he hobbled over to his desk, kicked his hooves up and closed his eyes. A soft crunching sound, like that of paper being crumpled, spoke out from under his hooves, but Silverstar was too groggy to notice. It wasn't long before he was quietly snoring as well.

Chief Thunderhooves stood before his tribe's ceremonial fire, stomping the dirt in a rhythmic fashion. Four other buffalo were each banging on a small drum, mimicking the chief's steps. The rest of his clan followed suit for a few moments before the music and the hoofsteps stopped in sync.

Silverstar stood on the opposite side of the campfire, his head held up proudly. Thunderhooves was making him an honorary member of their tribe, and he couldn't be happier. He was to be the first of the Appleloosans, and any others who wished to follow suit were more than welcome. They had become almost like a family after they settled their differences, and becoming an honorary member was the highest honor an outsider could be given, according to their ancient customs.

"Silverstar," the chief began, "we once didn't see eye to eye with your apple orchard and our stampeding grounds. We had threatened to destroy your way of life instead of try to compromise. Looking back, I can see how horrible it would have been if such things had come to pass.

"But now, we stand together as friends. And, if you would accept our humble gift, we wish for you to stand together with us as family."

In his hooves was a headdress with numerous large feathers of whites and faint blues with red tips. Happily, Chief Thunderhooves offered it to his pony companion, fully expecting for the ceremony to end on a high note.

"No," he said with an unusually high voice.

Shock hit the herd like a train. "I'm.. sorry?"

"After how much you didn't want to listen to me and went ahead and did what I suggested anyway? Without so much as an apology? No thanks, sir."

"Sheriff, I.. I don't understand. Why would you say no? And.. what's with your voice?"

"Never you mind that. Why don't you ask your family what they think?" the fake sheriff said, pointing at the others.

"Can't believe you would side with them."

"A real chief fights for his tribe!"

"It was our land first!"

"Why would you be OK with me and Braeburn being together?" Little Strongheart asked. "Are you trying to thin out the herd so much we eventually disappear? Why not just wait for them to come invade and kill us all?"

One by one, they turned their back on their leader, including the young calf, and walked away, fading into nothingness after a few steps. Thunderhooves could only watch in helpless confusion as he was abandoned by his companions. He tried to call out to them, reason with them, but no words came from his mouth. After a moment, he was alone.

He spun around to plead with Silverstar, but suddenly found himself in the middle of an empty Appleloosa. A dry gust carried dirt into the air, spinning it around in a small vortex, before floating away. The bright sun beat on the back of his neck and he began to sweat.

"Hello?" his voice echoed.

No answer.

Another quick burst of wind passed by, and he heard the saloon doors flopping open from behind. He turned and saw a shadow disappear into the building. Desperate to find help, he sprinted to the tavern and threw the swinging doors open only to find it empty, save for the bartender, who hopped up from behind the counter.

It was a pink mare with a straight mane and a rather unusual smile. In her mane was a frilly purple feather, and she wore a matching purple dress with a black halter top and stockings. Her stare crept to the right and met his eyes, causing him to shrink back uncomfortably.

"Howdy there, Chiefy!" Pinkie said with a bad accent. "Can I interest you in sharing a delicious, Appleloosa-baked apple pie? Perfect for the celebration today!"

"Uh.. but, I didn't see anypony around. What's going on?"

"Hey now, no reason just the two of us can't celebrate, is there?"

"Well, um.. I suppose not." The buffalo cautiously approached the bar and sat down, never taking his eyes off the unmoving gaze. Something about the familiar pink pony was unsettling to say the least. "Do I know you? I feel like we've met and I just can't place your face."

"Of course we have! I sang for you, remember?"

It suddenly hit him and he felt his stomach drop. How could he have forgotten that.. mess?

"Oh! Yes.. yes, now I remember. That was.. uh.. such a.. delightful tune! And it had such a wonderful message. Yes, you were absolutely right. Sharing and caring was.. definitely the right way to go," Thunderhooves stuttered, putting on an unconvincing smile.

Pinkie didn't bat an eye at the obvious attempt at a fake compliment. "So nice of you to say! Now, let's dig into that pie!"

She reached below and pulled out a fresh, piping hot piece of heaven. The chief's nervousness was quickly forgotten at the sight of the delectable, wonderful smelling treat. A second later, his fear returned when Pinkie pulled out a knife, still smiling widely and staring right at him.

The blade came down hard in the center of the dessert and carved it carefully. A quarter of the pie was sliced into two equal parts, one for each of them. They both took a piece, Thunderhooves keeping one eye on the pie and the other on his bizarre host. Pinkie's smile grew wider and she swallowed the slice in a single gulp, half of it getting all over the counter.

Now a bit less nervous, the large buffalo took a few cautious bites. Slowly, a grin crept across his face. It certainly was delicious. Maybe he was worried about nothing. He continued to enjoy his pastry when suddenly, his throat felt like it was on fire. No, it was worse. This wasn't just a sudden, unusual spiciness that one wouldn't get from a pie. It was utterly excruciating. He tried to scream, but nothing but pained wheezes came from his mouth.

"Oh gosh! Are you OK?" Pinkie gasped. "Quick! Have some water!"

She ducked down behind the counter and instantly returned with a glass and a jug of clear liquid. She poured a tall one and the chief snatched it away, guzzling it down hard. That only made the burning worse. He clawed at his neck, desperately trying to make the agony go away.

Chief Thunderhooves laid on the couch, clutching his throat and shrieking loudly. He rolled and tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, landing on his stomach. The horrific noises snapped the still tipsy Silverstar awake, almost throwing him off his chair and onto the floor himself. He stumbled off his makeshift bed and out his office door in a panic. His head almost instantly started throbbing thanks to the sudden, jerky motions. Wincing through a single open eye, he watched as Thunderhooves fought against nothing, utterly baffled at the situation.

"Chief! What's going on?!" he shouted. He received no response beside more screaming.

He wobbled toward the buffalo and tripped over his own hooves, slamming the side of his head into the desk next to his friend and crashing hard to the floor. "Oof!" A tiny river of blood trickled out from under the unconscious stallion's skull.

The scent of flesh and fur being burned away filled the chief's nostrils, and it made him sick to his stomach. A hoof found a hole in his neck that was slowly growing in size, and a slow, steady drip of blood flowed from the wound and down his chest. His eyes darted around searchingly as he wondered what in the world was happening to him.

"Why isn't the water helping?" Pinkie pondered. "It's the same stuff I used when I baked the pie!"

She turned the jug and faced the large white label that said 'Water', eying it suspiciously. A second later, one of the corners peeled away to reveal another white label hidden underneath.

"Huh?"

The pink mare grabbed the false label and pulled it completely off, revealing the jug to be filled with strychnine.

"Ooh! It all makes sense now! Wait a second.. "

She poked at her own neck and found a similar gaping hole. Wanting to see it for herself, she raised a small hoofheld mirror from out of nowhere and gazed curiously at the wound, giggling at the sight.

"Well, it doesn't do a thing for me, so let's get rid of that."

With a quick swing of her hoof in front of her throat, the maw disappeared, leaving her skin as good as new. Tossing the mirror away, she trotted with purpose around the bar and stood before Thunderhooves. He reached for Pinkie's hooves, pleading with watering eyes for her to stop or even help. She was a statue before him with a hideous, menacing grin.

"Y'know, Chiefy," she said, "I do care, believe it or not! Normally, one might see you laying there and give you a hoof, maybe take you to a hospital or something, which would only prolong your suffering. Me?" She whipped out a tomahawk from behind her body. "I'm just going to make it quick. Because I care."

The psychotic pony hopped up beside him, grabbing the fur on his head and pulling back hard. In a single, fluid motion, she dug the sharp stone blade of the axe into his forehead and ripped it across his scalp and neck. As his skin was suddenly torn off his skull, he sharply gasped, and his body began to twitch. After a moment, his muscles went limp and he slumped over.

The next morning was gloomy with thick gray clouds hiding the bright sun. Under several balconies along the road, buffalo and ponies alike were found laid out, fast asleep or just starting to rise. Seemed that some had partied harder than others the night before and were probably going to be paying for it once some beams of sunlight peaked through.

A dark green stallion with a blonde coat and a ten-gallon hat sauntered toward the sheriff's office. His cutie mark was that of a small rust-colored twister. Deputy Dusty was as awake as the others in town and it showed. Fortunately, his fatigue wasn't due to an excessive amount of alcohol. But, he still needed to get the day's law and order going. Even in quiet towns such as Appleloosa, you couldn't be too careful, especially with reports of an escaped madpony possibly running loose through Equestria somewhere.

He tested the doorknob when he arrived. Locked. No big deal though; he did have a key. In a single try, he popped the door open and headed inside. He hung his hat up on the rack to his left and headed into the main office, ready to begin going over some papers or sending some letters out or whatever else needed to be done.

He stepped through the doorway and found Silverstar laying in a small puddle of dried blood on the floor. His eyes began to twitch when a beam of light came in through the window and warmed his face. Beside him, in front of the couch, Chief Thunderhooves was sprawled out. The top of his head had been torn off and tossed onto the carpet on which he laid. His exposed skull had bled all over his face and onto the floor. The deputy's pulse began to race at the grotesque sight.

"What in tarnation?!"