I want you to picture Dappleshore, surrounded by misty marshland and forests, sitting at the southern arm of the Horseshoe Bay. You can reach it by land if you travel through the swamps, but most ponies take the ship from Baltimare. The village is about the size of Ponyville, and the houses are old and made of wood and stone. It's like the buildings resist change, as if looking down a random street takes you right back in time to the founding of the village hundreds of years ago, much older than Ponyville. Rarity calls it quaint and crooked, but I already know I'm going to love it as we step off the small ship and set hoof on the creaky old pier.

“Ugh, this is Dappleshore? It's so …” Diamond Tiara pushes past me, followed by Silver Spoon. “Old and dirty. Watch out where you step, Silver Spoon, we might catch something icky.”

“Ew!” Silver Spoon lifts her hoof and looks concerned at the wooden pier. “Do you think the beds have, like, lice in them or something? Or … or rats!” The two fillies squeal in horror at the suggestion.

I grin as I watch the two of them freak out; it's better than any theater. I love this place even more knowing those two hate it, and that it was Diamond Tiara's own dad who paid most of the trip. Life can be so ironic. I turn to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo coming off the ship. “Isn't this place amazing?” I ask, with exaggerated volume and cheer.

“Yeah!” Scootaloo says and flaps her wings. She's been almost ecstatic at the prospect of finally being able to stretch them freely. “I bet the rats here are the size of dogs! Or ponies!”

Apple Bloom chimes in with an evil smirk, “I hear there are enough lice in the beds to suck you dry overnight.”

“And … and all the water comes straight from the swamp,” I add, getting carried away by the moment. “You need to scrape off the green top layer just to bathe.”

Silver Spoon glares at us. “Oh yeah? I think it sounds like the perfect place for you three, then.”

“It won't be much different from their lives in Ponyville,” Diamond Tiara scoffs.

“Now now, girls, let's be nice.” Cheerilee interrupts the small feud and smiles at us. “After all, we have a whole week to spend together in this beautiful historic village. There are not many places like this left in Equestria, and maybe they will all be gone in another century.”

“More like prehistoric,” Diamond Tiara whispers behind us.

Cheerilee either didn't hear the remark or ignores it as she pulls out her list yet again to make sure everypony is off the ship. We all know the drill by now, and soon we're trotting down the street towards our new home for the week.

The hotel we're staying at is in the west part of town and overlooks a small plaza with a flower garden. It is the only hotel in Dappleshore, and it's a really charming three-story building of wood and stone. There's a small café right across from it where one can sit outside and watch the flowers and the ponies walking by while enjoying a sandwich and a cup of tea.

My sister stayed here when she was a filly, too, but it's not the same to hear her describe it as it is to actually stand here and look around at the old houses and the ponies trotting about. They aren't like ponies in Ponyville. They seem to have much more time; it's like they are never busy. There are more pegasi than in Ponyville, too, but most of the ponies here are still earth ponies.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon quickly seize the “best” room, of course. The rooms we get are all pretty much identical, but they insist theirs is the best, maybe because it faces the plaza. I don't care. There are two beds in each room, but the three of us convinced Cheerilee that we could stay together in one if two of us share a bed, so I now share a bed with Scootaloo.

We're staying in room number seventeen, facing west with a view of the swamps and forests.

I throw my saddlebags on the opposite end of the bed from Scootaloo's and fall down between the two bags, bouncing slightly a few times on the mattress. Scootaloo is off somewhere looking for the restroom. Knowing her as I do, she'll be exploring the building from top to bottom before she finds her way back here.

I glance around the room while Apple Bloom upends her bag on her bed. The room is small and cozy, with warm wooden colors. It has two beds with a nightstand and large trunk each, and a table and chair by the door. All the furniture is wood and looks antique. There's one window, overlooking the town and the forest in the background. A painting hangs over each bed. Mine shows a pony on a pier, and the one over Apple Bloom's bed depicts the moon hanging above the sea and a small ship. There's a vase of fresh flowers on the desk, and each bed is made with clean blankets which smell slightly of perfume.

No lice or rats. It's really a very nice room.

I stretch and look up into the ceiling. There's thick rope all along the edge, in place of panels where walls and ceiling meet. Apple Bloom is industriously sorting all her stuff and putting it in the trunk or on the nightstand. All of mine is still in my saddlebags. All except my new scarf, which I am still wearing. I lift one end of it and dangle it above me, staring at the flower motifs.

“Aren't you going to unpack?” I hear Apple Bloom from the other side of the room.

“Yeah,” I mutter and drop the scarf.

“I like your new scarf,” she says. I imagine she would; it kinda fits her better than it does me. It would probably fit Scootaloo even better.

“The colors don't really fit me, do they?” I search my bag for my hoofheld mirror. I find it and look at myself in its polished surface. The earthy colors do stand out against my white coat and light purple-and-rose mane. My sister would call it a crime against fashion.

“Ah think it looks nice.”

I smile and put the mirror away. I feel the scarf was meant for me, even if it looks all wrong on me. Maybe if I find some more clothes in these colors I can make it work. Do detectives wear scarves? I bet they would wear scarves in these colors if they did. Not with flowers, though.

With my mind abuzz, I begin unpacking.

“This is the Dappleshore clock tower.” Cheerilee points up at the grand old tower. All our eyes follow her hoof as the minute hand moves with an audible click to six minutes past three. “You can see the tower from all over town. If you ever get lost, simply head for it and it'll be just a brief walk down this road to the hotel.” She turns and points back the way we came. You can easily make out the front of the hotel from here. “You are not allowed to leave the town without me, but you are free to explore within the town during your own time. Just be back at the hotel by the planned times that you have on your lists. Are there any questions?”

A few random questions later, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and I are galloping down the street in no particular direction and with no real goal in mind. Scootaloo is the fastest, followed closely by Apple Bloom and me. We round a corner, and I nearly collide with Scootaloo while Apple Bloom storms right past. I scramble to stop and end up next to the pegasus.

Scootaloo looks around, then jumps back up and beats her wings with excitement as she turns to me. “I just had a great—” She blinks and looks around as she settles back down onto the road. “Hey, where did Apple Bloom go?”

I point a hoof past her, and Scootaloo turns to look as Apple Bloom comes trotting back towards us. She stops and looks at Scootaloo. “What's going on?”

“I think Scootaloo had an idea,” I say.

We all look at Scootaloo, even Scootaloo. After a confused second or two she flares back into life with a grin. “Yeah, a great idea for how we can explore the city and be like real detectives or something. We split up, see,” she begins explaining. “Then we walk in different directions and one of us tries to hide somewhere in the city. After, um, five minutes or something, the other two must try to find her. The one hiding can move around or stay in one place, but when one pony finds her they must stay together.”

“That sounds like fun!” I look at Scootaloo who's poking her hoof at her nose and looking between me and Apple Bloom with a grin. I blink and quickly lift my own hoof, but too late; Apple Bloom touches her own nose triumphantly.

“Nose goes!” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo cheer at me.

“No fair. I wanted to search. I want to be a detective too,” I pout.

“You can still explore the city,” Apple Bloom says. “You don't have to hide, just try not to be found.”

Scootaloo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, you could be like a detective trying to solve a mystery while avoiding the bad ponies who are after you.”

That's not such a bad idea. “Ooh, I can do that!”

“Right! Let's go earn our cutie marks!” Scootaloo jumps up and throws one hoof in the air. We all join her, high-hoofing before running off in three different directions.

The sign here says Pedigree Lane. As I trot along, the houses on each side grow bigger and further apart. If I continue much longer, I'm going to leave town, so I stop and look around. The houses here are old too, like they were built hundreds of years ago and never changed. Some of them look abandoned.

I look up at the one in front of me. The paint is flaking off the old wood, but the garden is neat and well tended. Roses grow on the latticework of the front porch where an elderly stallion is planting new seeds in small pots. I turn and look at the neighboring house, further down the street. The garden is completely overgrown, and the house itself is clearly abandoned.

It looks like an old photograph.

I don't like that house.

The stallion with the roses is looking at me now. I smile at him and he nods, but he doesn't smile and his eyes are suspicious and not kind. I hurry up, cantering back along the street the way I came.

It's been two hours, and I haven't seen my friends yet. I wonder if they've given up as I turn off Pedigree Lane and follow a small alley through a neighborhood of smaller houses. This place looks nicer. The houses are still old, but they don't loom, and they all look inhabited and well kept. I pass a mare with three young ponies in a small playground at the end of the alley. She smiles at me as I pass, and one of the fillies wave.

I smile and wave back.

The alley ends blindly here at the edge of town. It looks like it once continued west towards the forest, but the swamp has long since claimed it. I follow it with my eyes. There's a little house out there in the swamp on the outskirts of the forest. It must have once been sitting at the end of the street, but now it has been cut off. It looks a bit sad, sitting all alone in the marsh and overgrown with green plants and moss on the roof.

“That's the house of the little dead filly.” I look down into a pair of periwinkle eyes hiding behind the naughty grin of a small pegasus filly, younger than myself. I recognize her from the playground a moment ago. “You don't want to go out there,” she says with a playful wink.

“Fern! Don't frighten the nice filly with your stories.” The mother trots across the playground and picks up the young pegasus, who sticks out her little tongue at the mare and giggles. “I'm so sorry, she's just trying to be friendly,” the mother smiles. “Are you new around here?”

I smile too and nod, “I'm here with my school.” I point at the little house in the distance. “Does anypony live in the house out there?”

“The little dead filly lives there.” Fern wriggles her eyebrows at me and stands up on her mother's back with her front hooves on her head.

Another little filly and a smaller colt come running up to us from the playground. “I hear she was a wicked little witch come back from the dead to eat all those who killed her and their families too!” the second filly joins in with gusto. The colt hides behind his mother's leg and looks out at me like I'm the witch.

“Skyline, honestly!” The mother sighs. “It's just an old house. No pony's been living there since the old days 'cause the ground is too soft and the foundation has sunk. That's all.”

“And 'cause everypony who ever stay there go barkin' mad!” Skyline chirps and dances around unevenly, her bright eyes rolling around in her head to demonstrate.

Her mother quickly picks her up. The little filly flails her legs helplessly in her mother's grasp. “No pony is going mad 'round here 'cept me. The house is not haunted and there is no such thing as ghosts or ghouls or evil old witches!”

Fern jumps off the back of her mother and leans close to me, whispering conspiratorially. “I've seen the lights at night. They're real, you know. That's when she's brewing her evil witch brews and poisoning the swamp.”

It's a bit funny to watch their poor mother try to stop the wild stories. Meanwhile their brother hasn't said a word or moved out from behind his mother. “We have talked about this, girls,” she says tiredly. “The lights are just swamp gas, nothing else. Now please calm down.”

Skyline bursts out laughing. “I-it's the w-wicked witch f-farting,” she chortles and struggles with tears in her eyes.

Fern evades her mother and runs in circles around me. “I hear—” the filly whispers, now even lower, as if what she's saying is a huge and terrifying secret “—that Fillystata stitched her together from dead orphan fo—”

“That's enough, Frost Fern!” Their mother stomps the ground, her eyes flashing dangerously. Fern stops in her tracks and looks down at her hooves. “I will not hear that name or any of those awful stories from you, young filly! You and me are going to have a very serious talk once we get back home! Now march to it!” She looks briefly back at me before marching off with the three little ponies. “I'm very sorry. I hope you and your friends have a nice stay here in town.”

I watch them all walk down the street. Skyline looks back at me sadly before they disappear into one of the houses. Once they have gone, I turn around and look at the supposed witch house in the distance. It doesn't look like an evil witch's house. It looks a bit like I think Fluttershy's cottage would look if Fluttershy lived in a swamp, and Fluttershy is no evil witch.

I look back over my shoulder before trotting along the uneven ground towards the house.

My hooves sink into the soft ground where the road has been flooded. I pull my hoof out of the marsh with a soft gurgling sound and stumble back onto a dry stretch of the path. I look back at the town behind me and hope this doesn't count as leaving it. Turning back around, I look up at the house in front of me.

It's very green, with moss and grass growing all over the roof and ferns and creepers claiming the walls. The whole house has sunk in one side, and the chimney has collapsed. The wood has long since lost all color and the stone become green with age. But all the windows are whole, and if it wasn't because it had sunk, the house looks like it could be made habitable again.

I push through the thicket of ferns to peek through one of the windows into what used to be a kitchen. Pots and pans still hang by the fireplace, though rusted through, and small pots on a table once containing herbs have long since withered and died. Half the floor is flooded.

I trot around the house, stepping carefully around puddles of dark green water. There's an old pile of logs, long rotted, piled up by the crumbled chimney. Elsewhere, an old wooden ladder has fallen over and grown over ages ago. I pause behind the house and gaze up at the trees of the forest. They are only a short walk away, but that would definitely be leaving town, and Cheerilee would be so mad at me if I went in there.

The distant cry of a bird breaks me out of my thoughts, and I look away from the forest. I return to the front porch and gaze up at the windows of the loft. There's a small balcony, but it's all dark inside.

“Sweetie Belle!”

Turning, I spot Apple Bloom waving at me down the road. I wave back and wait for her as she trudges right through puddles and all without stepping off the flooded road at all. I bet this is nothing new when you live on a farm. “Hi, Apple Bloom.”

“Found you,” she says and looks around. “What are we lookin' at here?”

“A house,” I say matter-of-fact. “I heard it's haunted by an evil witch.”

Apple Bloom holds a hoof up to her pursed lips and nods. “A sloppy witch is what it is. This place needs a hoof, or maybe a wreckin' ball.” She looks back at me. “What do you think?”

“I think we should look inside.”

“Aye, for clues!”

I grin and step onto the porch, checking the door. It opens outwards with a creak, causing a minor cascade of dirt, molding wood, and dead beetles from the frame. Brushing aside some creepers and cobwebs, I step through a small entrance hall into the living room, followed by Apple Bloom.

I look up and turn around, ears perked as I thought I heard something. I scan the small room with bated breath, but see nothing.

It's starting to get a little gloomy outside, but not yet really dark. I can still make out the forest through the window, though not very clearly now. This room has a large bed and a closet with nothing in it. I already checked, but I still eye it nervously. The room has been spared the flooding, but there's not much left from whoever lived here once.

It was probably just Apple Bloom in the other room who made the noise. I turn back to look under the bed, but it's not long before I hear another creak. I look at the door to the hall and stand up slowly. “Apple Bloom?”

The hall is empty as I peek around the corner of the door. Another creaking sound, now clearly above me, makes me look up at the ceiling. “Apple Bloom?” I call again, my voice subdued.

Apple Bloom trots in from the living room, brandishing a rusty old fire shovel from the fireplace in her teeth. She looks around before settling her eyes on me. “What?” she says.

“You said the door to the second floor was locked, right?” I look across the hall to the stairs leading up.

“Yeah, what of it?”

We both gaze towards the stairs at the end of the hall as one of the steps creak and a cold gust of wind blows through the hall. A chill runs down my back at a sudden voice.

“Whoooooooo—”

I feel cold and can't move. Somewhere, in another world, I hear Apple Bloom scream and drop the fire shovel, which clatters against the floor.

“—'s got my rusty horseshoe!” An orange blur rushes down the stairs and lands in the hallway, wide grin facing us and wings beating the cold air. “You do!” Scootaloo burst out laughing.

I breathe out and glare at her. “That's not funny, Scootaloo!”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom chimes in and picks up the shovel, cheeks flushed. “You really scared us.”

“You should have seen your faces.” Scootaloo wipes a tear from her eyes. “Aw, come on, you have any idea how hard it was to find you two out here? I've been trotting around for hours; I even went back to the hotel because I thought you might have given up. I'm lucky I met somepony who saw you, Sweetie Belle.” She holds out a little box for us. “Want some chocolates? I found this really sweet shop. It had a huge chocolate Celestia in the window, and they made me these awesome chocolate scooters!”

I look in the box and pick up a small round chocolate with a scooter engraved on top. The wheels are little red crystals of sugar. “Wow, that's sweet.” I stuff it in my mouth and let it melt on my tongue. “Sorry about leaving you.”

Apple Bloom picks up a chocolate too and bites it in half. Red sticky stuff flows out; she quickly licks it off her hoof, grinning. I bet it's cherries; Scootaloo loves cherries.

“So what's up with this place?” Scootaloo asks as she closes the box.

“Just an old house,” Apple Bloom says and gobbles down the last half of her chocolate.

“I heard it's haunted by an evil witch, but it doesn't look like a witch's house,” I say. “How did you get up there anyway? Apple Bloom said the door was locked.”

Scootaloo grins. “I climbed in through a window, what else?”

Apple Bloom trots past Scootaloo and looks up the stairs. “So what's up there?”

“I don't know.” Scootaloo shrugs. “Rooms? I didn't look around.”

“Let's check it out then,” Apple Bloom says and begins climbing the old stairs.

Scootaloo and I follow as Apple Bloom pushes the door to the loft open. She steps inside and sneezes at a small cloud of dust. The room is full of it, as well as dense cobwebs. Everything has been covered in white sheets, which are now rather gray with age. There's a door at the other end of the room, and a pair of windows near the stairs.

I trot past my friends to a table covered in sheets. The floor creaks as I stop and reach out to touch the fabric. I wonder what things have been stored up here and how long. What stories are stowed away under blankets and decay in this old loft?

“Sweetie Belle …”

Something hits the floor as I pull my hoof away and freeze in place. I turn slowly to the closed door. I don't need to ask, the looks on my friends' faces tell me they heard it too. I really wish they hadn't.

“W-was that you?” Scootaloo asks, eyes wide as she looks at me.

I shake my head stiffly. But it sounded like me, and it came from the other room. There was no doubt.

“P-probably just the wind,” Apple Bloom says. We all glance at the windows. One of them is still open from Scootaloo's entrance earlier. None of us believe it.

Scootaloo backs away slowly towards to the stairs. “Yeah, o-or somepony playing a trick on us.”

Apple Bloom looks uncertainly around the room.

“Sweetie Belle … in here.”

I stare at the door, and ice fills my veins as a green light seeps out under the door.

“L-let's get out of here!” Scootaloo stammers. Apple Bloom is already halfway down the stairs.

I stare at the door as both of them scramble to get out. I swear it's moving. Part of me wants to open it and find the filly who knows my name and speaks in my voice. I want to help her, but I don't know why. And I'm also screaming at myself to run.

“Sweetie Belle!”

Scootaloo's voice pulls me back into reality, and before I know it we're racing down the stairs, stumbling wildly through the living room and out through the front door which clatters loudly behind us.

“Come on!”

I stumble over the porch and gallop down the road, led by Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. As we race down the overgrown and flooded path, I glance back at the house in the dimming light of early dusk. It looks sad and abandoned, and all the windows are dark.

“Maybe somepony lives there?”

“In that old dump?”

“The loft wasn't too bad, and … and maybe they're poor.”

“And how did they sound like Sweetie Belle, then? Or know her name?”

“Maybe it was a prank, then? Like you said.”

“If it was, they sure made us look stupid. And if it was anypony we know, they'd be laughing themselves silly at us right now.”

“I don't know. But what I do know is that I am plum tuckered.”

“Yeah, me too. I don't think I've slept at all since we left Ponyville.”

“Wow, that's a long time. Goodnight, Scootaloo.”

“Goodnight, Apple Bloom.”

“Goodnight, Sweetie Belle. Goodnight Stitch.”

I mutter something. I haven't really been listening.

I'm standing by the window of the hotel room. I can see the dark outline of the forest from here, and the small house at its edge is barely visible. A tiny green light flickers in one of the upper windows. I stare transfixed at it as it moves from the loft and appears a little later in the living room, then out on the porch. It drifts slowly towards the woods.

I watch it until it has faded entirely among the trees.

“Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo yawns.

I stand for a little longer before turning around with a sigh. I crawl in next to her and wrap the blanket around myself tightly. “Goodnight, Scootaloo,” I mutter and close my eyes.

“Goodnight, Sweetie Belle.”

Scootaloo is fast asleep.

An hour later I'm still staring at the window.