“My Dearest Diary,

“Today we discovered that Scootaloo was right; there are rats the size of ponies in this town. The size of two mean little fillies, to be exact. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon ratted us out, like the sniveling little vermin they are. Cheerilee was furious at us for sneaking out of town at night, and now Scoots and I have to spend all day in our hotel room 'to think about what we did' while the others have fun.

“It's so unfair! Apple Bloom promised to bring us back something nice when she gets back tonight, but it's just not the same.

“Anyway, more importantly, have I ever told you that Scootaloo has a really hot flank?”

I stop writing and look at the last sentence. I can't believe I just wrote that. I glance up and sneak another peek at my friend in the window. She's standing with her back to me, hooves in the windowsill, while staring out at the city. I can't blame her that she looks bored out of her mind. Her tail flicks idly now and then, which I think is utterly adorable. I stifle a giggle and swiftly look down as she turns her head and gives me a questioning look.

“What?”

“Just, um, thinking of a really funny rhyme,” I say evasively and try to suppress the blush on my cheeks. I hope she's not going to ask to hear it, because the only rhymes in my head right now are ones that sound like 'flank'.

I needn't worry, of course. It's a rare day when Scootaloo is interested in wordplays. “Oh,” she merely says and turns back to the window. But I can forgive her that failing, because …

“Well, she does. I wish I had that sort of body, but I'm all flat and shapeless. Scootaloo is perfect balance and grace, with the most adorable tail and shapely rear, and her smile is to die for with those little dimples and the way her eyes seem to sparkle. She is so adorable and pretty.” I continue my thoughts on paper and glance up at the subject of my attention and affection. I hold a hoof up to cover my smile as I let the little book know my biggest secret. “I can’t deny it; I'm falling for Scootaloo.”

“She's always been my best friend, even before we met Apple Bloom. She's always there for me, and I just feel safe when she's there. I feel like I could tell her anything, and she'd understand. In her warm embrace at night I feel like I belong. Is it wrong that I look at her like this without her knowing? I think it is, but I'm not sure how to tell her. I hope she feels something too, when I am in her hooves or when she looks at me. Does she look at me too, like I look at her? Does she think I'm pretty?”

With a sigh, Scootaloo pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance up from my writing as the pegasus drops down on her pretty haunches. “I'm bored,” she complains to her own little world at large and stretches her limbs tiredly.

I watch in fascination as she ruffles her wing with her muzzle and takes a single long feather in her mouth, dragging it slowly between her teeth. She looks like she could do it in her sleep. I've seen Scootaloo preen her feathers before when we've spent nights together—at sleepovers and school trips—but I haven't watched many other pegasi doing it.

I watch her pick out another feather with practiced skill, and I realize my mouth is hanging open. Before I know it I'm blurting out my thoughts. “I'd love to try that, if you want.” I clap my hooves over my mouth in astonished horror at myself.

Scootaloo lets go of the feather she was grasping in her teeth and gives me a curious glance. “What, seriously?” She looks between me and her wing as if wondering why I'd want to do that.

“Um, if you want, that is,” I repeat. I relax a little and tell myself that Scootaloo is pretty cool and will probably not mind. “I've never tried it, but I think they offer it at the spa back in Ponyville.” I close my diary and jump off the bed. “Like, um, a hooficure for your wings.”

“So, you're saying you could get, like a cutie mark for preening?” Scootaloo looks back at the window and scooches over to give me room. “I've been preening my wings all my life, I'm pretty good at it, but I don't have a wing or anything on my flank.”

I giggle and sit down behind her with my hooves on either side of her, in easy reach of her wings. “I think you'd have to preen other ponies' wings to get one like that,” I explain and lift her right wing. The feathers are so amazingly soft, they're like silk or something against my hoof. “And maybe do other things too, like massaging and such.”

Scootaloo turns her head uncertainly at me. “You're not going to do that too, are you?”

“I could if you like me to!” I say excitedly and pick out a feather, gingerly holding it in my teeth.

“Nah,” she says and looks down at the wing I'm grasping. “Don't bite the feather, and don't pull. Yeah, like that.” She looks back out the window. “Just let them glide slowly between your teeth and lips.”

I glance up at her with one of her feathers in my mouth. “Mhmm.” I'm getting the hang of this, I think. It's not all that difficult, and it's kinda neat. I like being close to her like this and just relaxing together. I wonder if she likes it too. I let go of the feather and look up at her as I pick out the next one. “What do you think?”

She shrugs a little, but it looks more like a reflex. I think she really likes it. “It's kinda nice,” she admits. She's silent for a time before letting out a little sigh again to break the silence and boredom. “I wish we could be outside with the others. It's so boring sitting inside all day.” She looks down. “Stupid Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.”

I let go of the first wing and wrap my hooves around her waist and pull her back into a friendly hug. I just want her to feel better, and she's just so cuddly and warm. “We could play a game,” I suggest.

Scootaloo groans a little at the hug but doesn't protest too much. I know she likes it and just doesn't want to show it all the time. “What kind of game?”

“What about …” I let go and lift her second wing, considering all the games I know. Many of them require more than two players, or can't really be played indoors very well. “Um … Truth or Dare?”

“Oh, um …” Scootaloo taps her chin and looks up. “Dare me.”

She always picks dare if she has the chance. Apple Bloom almost always picks the opposite of what she last picked. They are both very predictable. I continue the slow preening as I think of a good dare. “I dare you to … open that window up wide, then dance and sing a silly song about lickin' a chicken. And you have to sing it really loud so everypony outside can hear it.” I finish the second wing and brush my hooves through its soft feathers.

“Oh, it's chicken season again, is it?” Scootaloo turns her head and sticks out her tongue at me. “Okay, watch me!” She jumps up and throws the window wide open before jumping onto the windowsill. I can't help but giggle as she begins to dance and sing, strutting around in the window and shaking her wings and tail like some kind of freaky chicken.

She does a little pirouette in the window and bows at me with a flourish and a grin. Her poetry skills are atrocious, and her singing skills even worse, but her moves are so graceful and … sexy, even when she's being silly. I clap my hooves and stick out my tongue at her. “So funny.”

Scootaloo jumps off the window, bows again, and plops back down on her haunches. “You should learn to be more specific,” she grins and gives my nose a bop. “Now it's your turn. Truth … or Dare?” she asks dramatically, staring into my eyes.

“Truth,” I say and stare right back into her piercing eyes of purple.

“Tell me truthfully …” Scootaloo begins, dragging out the question dramatically while maintaining eye contact. “What was the last embarrassing secret you wrote in your diary?”

I stare at her widening grin and feel a bright blush come to my cheeks. She can't possibly have seen what I wrote, could she? I glance at the window and wonder if maybe the glass worked like a mirror. Or maybe she noticed me looking at her flank. But that means she knows, and …

“You have to tell me,” she says and leans so close that our muzzles are almost touching, making it impossible for me to avoid her gaze without turning away entirely. She's clearly seen my reluctance.

Stupid me. I should have chosen dare. I look down and sink to get the dryness out of my mouth. “I, um, I think you have a r-really nice f-flank.” I can not believe I just said it to her face like that. Oh Celestia, she's silent. Give me anything but silence.

I look back up into Scootaloo's surprised eyes. She didn't know, but there's no going back now. I chose truth and I have to let her know. Before I know it, I've closed my eyes and pressed my lips against hers. I want to show her what I really feel.

She … she's not returning it …

I fall on my back as she pushes me off. “Whoa … Whoa! I'm not cool with that!”

I can see disgust in her eyes. I can't look at it. “I … I just …” I just want to run away and hide.

“Thought I was a fillyfooler?” She drags a hoof across her mouth with a look of … something, but it's not a blush. “I can't believe my best friend … kissed me.”

I gasp and look up at her. I thought she would understand. How could I have been so blind? How can she be so blind? I stand up with a sniff and glare at her. “I … I thought you were cool!” I cry. “But n-now you're just a mean bully or what?”

“Hey, I'm way cool!” Scootaloo glares back, looking hurt, but I don't care. I want to hurt her back for what she called me. “Kissing fillies is not cool, Sweetie Belle. It's wrong,” she says like she's trying to help me or something. But she's the one who's wrong!

“Rainbow Dash does it!” I practically scream. Oh, I know that truth is gonna hurt.

Scootaloo gasps and bumps her head against mine, glaring death at me. “You take that back! Rainbow Dash is not a fillyfooler!”

“She totally is! I've seen her smooching all over one of the weather mares after work! Rarity says she's always flirting with her friends, too!” There! I hope I've ruined her perfect little dream forever! I hope she cries herself to sleep over it. I spin around and jump over the bed, galloping across the room to slam the bathroom door shut behind me.

I skid across the floor and collapse in the shower, ignoring her yells from the other room as I roll up and cry. I just want to be alone. How could she say those things? How could she believe those things?

There's a look in her eyes. Ever since that tea party it's been there. Every time she looks my way at school or in the street, I fear I'm going to soil myself in front of everypony. I almost did once. I spent that day locked in the bathroom at school, trying to wash myself clean, but her touch never washes off. I'm a total wreck, and all she has to do is smile at me.

There's something in her eyes. They've changed. I don't know what it is, but she looks at me different now. I think she's sad. And I know … I know she's going to do something to me. Because I tried to poison her.

I can't take it. I just can't take the way she teases me and how she touches me when we're alone. She barely has to do a thing. A single glance or brief touch and I'm trembling at her hooves and letting her do … anything. She never hurts me when I let her do what she wants; she's so gentle and sweet it frightens me, the way I can't resist her. I don't want her to hurt me.

She's going to hurt me now. I know.

I have to end it. I have to tell somepony everything.

There's a single candle sitting in the upper window, burning softly. I look up at the little house by the woods. Mandrake is the only pony I can talk to, the only friend who will understand. She'll know what to do about Midnight.

I look at the window with the candle and take a deep breath. I can see her silhouette behind the glass, sitting at her desk. She's so close, just behind that glass. I can do this. I can tell her.

I spread my wings and rise towards the window. I need to tell her. There's no other way to end this.

“Hello Dreamy. Not flying off, are you?”

I freeze in mid-flight and look around at the bright smiling eyes trotting towards me, so casual and relaxed. “H-hello Midnight,” I whisper, my throat tightening around the words. “I was just …” I trail off, choking on the sounds.

She skips along the last bit of road between us and comes to a halt, tilting her head back at the city in the direction of her home. “I was going to invite you to tea. Wanna go?” Her teeth show as she smiles, a little more than usual. I feel like breaking down and crying. I am crying!

“T-tea?” My body is shaking uncontrollably. There's something playing in her eyes, deep, deep inside. Behind that smile hides a monster, and it is sad. She is sad, but why?

“Yeah. My mom baked these sweet delicious scones for us. I just had to share them with my best friend.” She turns around and wraps a hoof around my back, caressing my shoulder as she leads me back along the road. “Come on. Don't wanna stand out here in the cold, Dreamy.”

As we leave, I look back up at the window behind me, at the silhouette of the only pony who could help me. I want to pull myself free and rush up to scream and beg for help.

I didn't.

“Sweetie Belle?”

I look up, eyes heavy from weeping and slumber. I look around confused for a moment before remembering where I am, still lying curled up in the shower of the hotel room. I sniff and wipe my eyes.

There's a cautious knock at the door, and Scootaloo's voice sounds again. “Sweetie?” She sounds like she's been crying too. I don't know if that makes me happy. “C-can we talk?”

I pull myself up into a sitting position and lean my head against the cold wall.

“Sweetie? Are you … are you alright? You aren’t hurt, are you?” She sounds worried now, and I can see her shadow under the door, trying to peek inside. I close my eyes and concentrate hard on the light switch on the wall. It flips off and the light goes out, flooding the room in total darkness. Scootaloo must have noticed it. “I'm sorry I said those things, you know.”

She stands back up, and I hear her slide down the door, slumped down with her back to it. “I'm sorry I called you a fillyfooler. I'm sorry I said it was wrong,” she says through the door. “I just want to be your friend again, Sweetie Belle. I don't mind if you like fillies. I don't think it's wrong.”

“You just think that because Rainbow Dash likes mares,” I say, my voice hoarse and a little pained. “Suddenly it's cool because she's like that? But what about me? It wasn't enough that one of your best friends likes fillies? It had to be Rainbow Dash to change your mind.”

She's silent but then says, “I'm really sorry, Sweetie Belle.” I can hear her sniffing sadly. “I was wrong, and I'm an idiot. When you kissed me I just … I freaked out and I didn't think.” She's silent again, but I just let her speak. I don't want to talk to her right now.

“I had no idea, Sweetie. And … I guess I don't understand it. I … I'm kinda flattered that you like me like that, and um, thanks for the compliment. I just don't, um …” She scrapes the floor with a hoof uncertainly. “I'm not into fillies, I guess. That's how I feel and I don't think I can change that.”

“I-I do think you're really pretty, and I bet you'll find lots of fillies who would want to be with you, but kissing a filly just kinda squicks me out. Um, anyway, you're the best friend I could imagine. You're a great pony and I really like you, but … only as a friend, okay? I don't want you to be hurt or lose you just 'cause I'm a big dumb idiot.”

I hear her turn around to face the door. “Can you forgive me? It's m-my turn, so i-if I say 'dare', does that help? I-I could tell Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon that I think they're pretty hot or something, if you like?”

I stumble back up and open the door a crack, peeking my head outside. “You'd really do that? They'd tease you for years about it. The whole school would know.”

Scootaloo stands up and nods. She's really been crying; I guess I hurt her pretty bad too. “Mhmm, right to their faces if it makes you feel better. I'll also defend you if anypony calls you anything nasty.”

I open the door fully and look down a little. “Y-you're not even a little curious about fillies?”

She shakes her head a little and rubs her leg. “I'm sorry.”

“If I dared you to give it a chance, would you kiss me?”

She looks up at me. I can see that she really don't want to do it. I also know that she would take the dare anyway. I could make her do things she really don't want to do, not just silly things that don't really mean anything. Memories of my dreams return, bringing images of a sad and frightened little pegasus with them. “D-do you?” she asks.

I'm not a monster. I hold out a hoof to her and sniff. “No. But can I just hug you?”

She accepts the hoof and leans over, hugging me tightly. “Sure. Always.”

“Will you … will you still hold me at night?” I ask as I rest my head against her neck. “I had another nightmare out in the shower. I don't want to be alone.”

“I … I guess I'm cool with that,” she says.

I smile and wipe my eyes. “You're a great friend, Scoots. I'm sorry you won't be more than friends, and … I'm sorry I told you about Rainbow Dash.”

“It … it was true, right?”

I nod.

She's silent for a second before grinning. “Hey, do you know who she was making out with? I totally want to hear everything about that.”

“Oh no, it's your turn first. I'll tell you all the juicy details, but first I dare you …” I give her an evil little smile. “… to buy me ice cream tomorrow. I want the biggest one they have around here.”

Scootaloo lifts a hoof and grins. “It's a deal.”

I return the grin and bump the hoof.

“Are you sure you should dig in this, Sweetie Belle? Isn't it better to leave all this ghost stuff alone after what happened the other night? What about these awful nightmares that you told us about? They sound really bad.” Scootaloo looks at me worriedly. “I'm not super thrilled to go back there, myself.”

Apple Bloom gives a nod of agreement and looks back at me as we trot down the street. “Yeah, and Cheerilee is still furious at you two for runnin’ into the woods. You know I had to promise I would keep an eye on you. I don't know if she'll be happy if she finds us near the forest again.”

“It's not leaving town. We're not going into the forest again.” I throw one end of my scarf around my back and point to the hats we're each wearing. I had lots of time yesterday to finish them. “And we're supposed to be detectives, remember? Digging in mysteries and uncovering old crimes and secrets is what we're meant to be doing.”

“Can't we find some other mystery?” Apple Bloom sighs. “I don't like this one.”

I stop and look at my two friends. “I-I can't leave this. I need to find out everything I can about this ghost. It's really important to me, but you two don't have to come with me. I understand if you don't want to come, but I have to do this, and I hope you'll go with me because it really scares me too.”

“I'm not going to let you go alone,” Scootaloo says with a hoof on my shoulder. “No matter how freaky and scary that thing was. You can count on me.”

I look at Apple Bloom. I can see she's not happy about this, but finally she gives up. “Alright, but I'm not lettin’ you go into the forest! It's the house and no further.”

I give her a hug. “We won't go into the forest,” I promise her.

I'm really glad we're doing this during the day, while the sun is still up and it's bright outside. I'm also glad I have my two friends with me, because even in daylight the house looks a little creepy now. I remember it from my last dream as the house of Daffodil's friend. It looked different then. It looked nice, before it became abandoned. It must have been long ago.

I lead the way and push the door open. The living room and hallway look like they did last time. I glance nervously into each room as we pass them and make sure to close all the doors behind us so that nothing can sneak up on us from behind. I still can't help but glance over my shoulder constantly. I stop at the bottom of the stairs and look up at the door at the top. It's still open a crack from our last visit.

“Still wanna do this?” Scootaloo inquires behind me.

I nod and sink my fear, taking a careful step up the stairs. The other two follow close behind as we ascend together. I push open the door and peek inside. The window is still open. The door to the next room is closed. I slowly step inside the room and walk towards the closed door.

It's her old room. Daffodil's friend. I know it must be before I've opened the door.

The door binds but eventually opens with a low creak. I stare at the large, open room beyond. White sheets cover everything under layers of dust. At the other end is a window and door to the balcony. The room takes up more than half of this floor. She must have been a lucky filly to have such a big room all to herself.

I look down at something on the floor just inside the door. I step through the doorway and pick it up, sitting down with the the object held between my hooves. It must be what we heard falling the other night.

Scootaloo is right beside me, looking at it curiously. “What's that?”

“Looks like a bone,” Apple Bloom adds her own observation ominously.

I nod vaguely at her suggestion. “Looks like a hoof,” I say and turn the small bone in my hooves. I blink as I turn it upside down. “With a key stuck in it.” I show the other two the small iron key hidden in a groove carved into the bottom of the hoof-bone.

“What kind of pony keeps a hoof-bone in their room and use it to hide keys?” Apple Bloom shudders.

I struggle a bit to get the key loose. It's stuck pretty good in there, but eventually it falls into my hoof. I stare at the bone and decide to put it in my saddlebag for now. I pick up the key in my mouth and stand, looking around the room. “It must be important. Maybe it fits somewhere here.”

“Not a normal pony,” Apple Bloom answers her last thought herself. “A scary pony. That's the kind of pony who keeps a hoof-bone in their room, it is.”

I walk up to a sheet-covered cabinet. “Let's look around.”

“Yeah, let's get this over with.” Scootaloo moves across the room with purpose in her step.

“The kind of pony who would rise from the dead, too,” Apple Bloom continues in a monotone. “And take your bones. Maybe she wants a body again? Ghosts do that, you know.” Somehow Apple Bloom is now the resident expert on ghosts, I muse and ignore her.

I pull a sheet off in a cloud of dust and look at the wooden cabinet underneath, holding back a sneeze. It looks antique, and it doesn't have any locks. One by one I pull out the drawers and open the doors. It's full of dust and dirt and boxes and cans full of more dust and dirt. Some have dry leaves or strange little bits of bark and roots in them. I guess most of it rotted away long ago.

The boxes and cans have labels, but they are pretty difficult to read. I pick one up and study it. I think it says bitterroot or something. I sigh and look up at the other two. Apple Bloom is rummaging around under an old bed, her tail sticking out from under the old blanket covering even that. Scootaloo is studying a large build-in closet full of boxes.

“Found anything yet?” I ask. They both mutter something that doesn't sound too encouraging.

There's a heavy old desk by the balcony window. It must be where she sat on that night Daffodil watched her through the window. I feel a sense of melancholy as I approach it and carefully lift the sheet off. The first thing I notice are the skulls, empty eye sockets staring blankly at the room, perhaps for the first time in ages since the house became abandoned.

I quickly realize that they are not pony skulls, however. Most of them are way too small, and many of them have beaks. They also have pencils and quills in their eye sockets. One of them, some kind of large rodent I think, has been used to prop up a stack of books. I open one of them. It's full of drawings of animals and their insides. The others are full of plants and flowers.

There's a loud sneeze from under the bed, and Scootaloo is still stuck in the closet looking through boxes. I don't think any of them contain any skeletons. I turn back to the table, and my eyes fall upon a small golden box with a little watch in it which has long since stopped. I reach out carefully and open the lid of the box.

A soft melody flows from within the box, causing a startled cry from my two friends. “Sorry, just a music box,” I mutter and stare in wonder at the little metal bird within, sitting in a nest surrounded by a painted landscape. I've never seen anything as sad and beautiful at the same time. I sit down and listen to the melody play for several minutes before it slowly winds down.

“Wow. That was really beautiful,” Apple Bloom says quietly next to me. I just nod in reply.

This box alone looks worth as much as some of my sister's more expensive dresses. It looks way more expensive than most of the stuff here. I wonder why all these things are still here. Doesn't anypony own this house? Did they all just leave it here?

I want to take the box with me. It must have been sitting here for ages. It doesn't seem right that something so beautiful should be stuffed in an old loft under a sheet.

“Hey girls, I think I found something,” Scootaloo speaks up. She's given up on the closet and is now looking over a bookcase. I can guess what most of the books are about already. The book she's holding isn't a normal book, however. Normal books don't have locks. “It's a diary, I think.”

I practically snatch it out of her hooves and sit down, staring at it. The initials “M. M.” are etched in a large script on the front cover.

Apple Bloom peeks over my shoulder at it. “Does the key fit?”

I find the key and insert it in the small lock on the book. It turns with a little click.

As Scootaloo goes to take a bath, and Apple Bloom is resting on her bed, I settle down in the window back at the hotel and glance out at the reddening sky outside. The house is barely visible in the growing darkness, its windows all dark now. I open the diary and look down at the yellowed pages of the book in my hooves.

The first page reads, “Mandrake Meadows, Dappleshore.”

“1650, July 25
“Found this note on my desk today. It must have been left there by a mathematical pigeon. Absolutely fascinating. I shall have to hunt down said bird; it's genius could change the world of science forever and make me famous as its discoverer.

'Verily 2 is greater then 1 and 3 is surly greater then 2. A unicorn has but 1 horn while a pegasis is blesed with 2 wings. Princes Celestia has 1 horn and 2 wing witch is 3. It is therfor true that Pegasis > Unicorn. QED!'

“Oh Daffodil. I am truly defeated.

“— MM”

“1650, August 15
“Our class has a new unicorn this year. That makes two of us now, which means I am no longer going to be the lone target. I don't know whether to feel relief or jealousy. I can only imagine this will make poor Daffodil's head explode trying to decide who to tease … once she stops playing sick at home.

“The new filly's name is Midnight Spindle. I've seen her around town before but never talked to her. She seems really nice, and she seemed to get along well with the class already.

“I think dad got a bit creative tonight. I have no idea what was on my plate, but it tasted okay. Socks got most of mom's though. Poor dog thinks he's starved.

“— MM”

“1650, August 16
“I told Daffodil about the new unicorn. She was suddenly no longer sick. Amazing! If this can be replicated it will revolutionize our understanding of medicine. Daffodil is a constant source of wonder.

“In any case, she actually baked Midnight a cake for school today, or perhaps it was her mom who did most of the baking, but the message written on the finished product was undeniably Daffodillian. I am reproducing it here for posterity.

'My kondolenses on the horible mutation on your forhead.'

“She never baked me a cake when I began at school, although she did use that joke on me too one time. Midnight was quite speechless; poor girl did her best to smile at it. She'll get used to Daffodil, and it was a delicious cake. I snuck two pieces while nopony was looking. Mwahaha!

“— MM”

“1650, September 24
“We got our tests back today. Midnight got a D, the poor filly. It's strange because she seems to study really hard. She tried to smile at it, but I don't think she was very happy. It's never easy to tell with her, because she's always trying to smile.

“Daffodil got a B+ on hers; she must have misspelled some of the answers.

“— MM”

“1650, September 25
“Midnight didn't say a word all day. She just sat at her table smiling blankly into her book. She was wearing a new dress, it was very pretty. I think she makes them herself. I wonder why she doesn't have her cutie mark yet.

“I spotted an unusual warbler on a roof on my way home, but it flew away before I could get a good look. I have tried to draw what I remember below. I don't think I've seen that coloration before. Could there be a new species out there? I hope I see it again.

“— MM”

“1650, September 26
“I tried to talk to Midnight today. We ended up laughing a bit at all of Daffodil's jokes, then talked about science and magic. I think it helped her to talk, and she's really interested in what I do. I offered to help her on her report next week, but she declined. I think she wants to prove that she can do it herself. She's a little bit stubborn.

“I went hunting for my mystery warbler this evening, but didn't find anything. A shame.

“— MM”

“1650, November 11
“Daffodil declared today to be International Unicorn Sympathy Day and hoofed out fake horns at school. Midnight even accepted one and spent all day with two horns. It looked pretty silly. I think she's warming up; she doesn't try so hard to smile anymore. She looks more relaxed.

“My cousin is visiting this weekend. I can't wait to see him.

“— MM”

“1650, December 13
“The Hearths Warming Eve school play was a total disaster.

“Midnight had worked really hard on the costumes and done an amazing job. Daffodil made some kind of joke about it, but I didn't hear it. If I were to guess, maybe something about how she was happy to see a unicorn who knew her place as a manual laborer. Maybe that's when it started going wrong, because I don't think this play has ever had such an authentic and passionate argument between Princess Platinum and Commander Hurricane.

“Daffodil accidentally tore her costume in the cave scene. I know she was really sorry about it, but after that it just went to Tartarus, with the two of them screaming at each other on stage. Daffodil ran off crying, and I don't know what happened after that, but it certainly was freezing as I ran to catch up with her. Some of those windigo howls sounded very realistic.

“What a way to end before the winter break.

“— MM”

“1650, December 14
“Daffodil continues to prove that beneath her racist remarks and prankster facade beats a heart of pure gold. She may wholeheartedly believe that pegasi truly are superior—others may doubt her sincerity, but I don't—and she may have been deeply hurt by Midnight's words yesterday, but she still gets right back up the next day and, in the spirit of the season, takes it upon herself to make everything good again.

“I think I would have punched Midnight in the face and sworn never to speak to her again. But Daffodil isn't like that. Instead she just went out and bought Midnight a gift. That's why Daffodil is my best friend, even when she calls me a lowly unicorn who should be proud that she serves a pegasus. I am proud to call her my friend.

“— MM”

“1650, December 25
“Socks ran off and mom slipped on the ice and broke her front leg. I had to hunt that stupid dog for an hour while she was at the doctor's. At least Daffodil helped me out, but what a way to end the year.

“— MM”

“1651, January 7
“Another year, and we're back to school. Midnight is pretty quiet and sticks to herself. Daffodil is her usual self, trying to make life a little less serious. All in all, nothing much has changed.

“Dad made my favorite pasta tonight. I was just in the mood for that. Mmm.

“— MM”

“1651, June 6
“I'm so happy, because today was my birthday and I got to spend it with my best friend and all of my family at my uncle's house. It was the best birthday party ever! Daffodil got me a wonderful scarf, I just love it! I'm wearing it right now, even though it's kinda hot inside.

“I love all my friends and family. Except my cousin, he's such a jerk, heh.

“— MM”

“1651, August 21
“And then summer raced right past us and it's back to school. Maybe Daffodil is rubbing off on me, because I just wanted to stay home today and pretend to be sick. I didn't, of course.

“Daffodil and Midnight have been rubbing each other the wrong way again, it seems. I wish they could just be friends. It's not for a lack of trying from Daffodil, that's for certain.

“— MM”

“1651, August 29
“Evidently Mrs. Creek thinks those two need to work out their differences too, because she just paired them up for the big group project. At least I'm fairly sure she rigged that so they ended up together, it seems too perfect to be random. I can only hope it works.

“This is the first time Daffodil and I won't be working on a project together. I'll be working with Penny Whistle instead. That should be interesting.

“— MM”

“1651, September 9
“The project is over. I think Penny and I did pretty well on ours. Apparently Daffodil and Midnight did as well. At least Mrs. Creek was very happy with their work, and they seem to have become better friends too. I can only hope it lasts.

“Midnight got her cutie mark too. It's a spider, strangely enough, but I suppose it kinda fits her. She is pretty good with clothes and fabrics.

“— MM”

“1651, September 16
“I don't know what is going on, but Daffodil is hiding something. Ever since the project, she and Midnight have become real good friends. At least Midnight seems happy, but Daffodil … I don't know what is wrong with her, but she's not quite herself. She seems shifty and nervous, and every time I ask her she avoids me.

“I wish she would speak to me.

“— MM”

“1651, October 1
“I swear, Daffodil hasn't done any real pranking in weeks. Not that I've seen, at least. There's something seriously wrong with that. She and Midnight continue to be best pals on the outside, but I know something is up. Daffodil is not happy. She may fool everypony else, but I know her too well.

“— MM”

“1651, November 1
“Daffodil was at my house tonight, but she didn't come in. I saw her leave with Midnight. Why didn't she at least say hi? I caught a glimpse of her face through the window. She looked really awful, like she was begging me to help her.

“I galloped over to her house to find her, but she wasn't there, and no one answered at Midnight's house. I'm really worried for her.

“I'm going to have a talk with her tomorrow, away from Midnight. That unicorn has some strange power over my friend. She just hasn't been herself since that blasted project.

“— MM”

“1651, November 2
“Daffodil was not at school today. I went by her house again, and her father said she hadn't been home at all since last night. It's past midnight and still no word of her. I can't sleep for worry of her. She's been gone for more than a day.

“I should have talked to her earlier. I should have tried harder to make her speak.

“Please return to us safe, Daffodil. I miss you.

“— MM”

“You going to sleep?”

I look up at Scootaloo. “Oh, um …” I glance at the book, then close it and nod. “Yeah.”

Scootaloo nods and crawls into bed. I glance out the window at the house in the distance. Its windows are still dark. I put the book down and crawl into bed next to Scootaloo. I'm glad that she's here tonight, even if it doesn't feel the same.

Author's Notes:

Mandrake Meadows got a tiny reference way back in chapter 7 of Fillystata, and she returned along with Daffodil Dreams in chapter 16 of Mare in the Mirror when Midnight tells the story (in brief) to Scootaloo from her own perspective.

I don't think I gave much thought to the character of Mandrake when I dropped her name in Fillystata, or if I did I've certainly forgotten. In MitM I never really thought deeply about her and Daffodil either, they were just generic bullies in Midnight's story, more or less. As I write this story I find myself getting a much deeper look into their lives and personalities, as well as Midnight's relationship with them.

I feel like an explorer as I write this, and it's kinda experimental, but it's also very cool.