I am her unicorn. She dreams within me, and I live it out.

I called her forth from ashes. I gave her a body with a heart and passion to dream, to live, to seek revenge for her death. She does not command. She does not have to. I submit and follow her willingly.

I am her unicorn, and I will not rest until the day when Midnight rots forever in her grave.

That day is now, on the anniversary of the deed, and the swamp will be her grave. I am here to make sure of this. May she never be found and her memory die along with her.

My teeth dig into the handle I'm holding. I can taste the old wood and see the dull metal of the sharpened blade. The metal has been covered in soot so it won't catch the moon's light by accident. I am covered in mud and grasses from head to tail. It is cold and uncomfortable, but I am almost convinced she could walk right past me without seeing me if I stood perfectly still in the deep shadows.

I am taking no chances. She will not see me or hear me coming.

I lift a hoof and take a step forward, eyes on the ground and my surroundings. Her hoofprints are still visible in the soft mud of the swamp. My hoof lingers over the ground for a moment. I look around and move it a little to the side before stepping down on a tuft of solid ground. I must be careful where I step. If I get my hoof stuck in the mud, it'll make a sound when I pull it out.

Thank the Mare and her silvery moon that I know these marshes so well. She is looking down at me from her prison high above the world, and I know she is with me. It brings me strength and comfort.

I have been following Midnight all day through the swamp. I am tired, my limbs ache, and my eyes long for rest, but I am so close now. I can see her up ahead, silhouetted against the swamp as she digs, filling up the hole in front of her. I creep closer, hiding behind shrubs as I inch forward, using the sounds of her digging to conceal any unintentional noise of my approach.

She stops and wipes the sweat from her brow. She sticks the shovel in the ground and sits down next to the grave she's covered. I am right behind her, almost within reach. I can hear her breathing, long heavy breaths. I can see the drops of sweat in her lavender coat and smell the scent of wet earth clinging to her.

I ready my blade and study her back and spine as she leans over, lowering her head. I can clearly make out the spinal column. I know exactly where to strike to paralyze. It will be swift and leave her helpless for me to do whatever I like with her. I haven't decided what I'm going to do to her.

My eyes move between her neck and her hooves as I hold my breath and take the last step, positioning myself perfectly behind her, blade poised to strike.

Midnight lifts a hoof to her face and rubs a tired eye, oblivious to my presence. She lowers her head, and a quiet sob escapes her. I freeze a fraction of a second away from striking. She remains unaware of me. I see a few tears glitter on her hoof as she lets it fall back down.

Thinking herself alone with the dead, far from civilization in the middle of the vast swamp, Midnight lets out another heavy sob and closes her eyes as the tears escape her. There is no restraint in her grief, and no trace of the falseness she treats everypony else to.

I hesitate and reach out an uncertain hoof towards her. Her ears twitch, and I hesitate no longer as I remember what she did … to me, to us, to the pony in the grave before us.

I strike!

There's a flash of bright indigo. My eyes widen, and I feel my heart leap at her cry of pain and warm blood spattered across my face.

The world resounds like a crack of thunder and the darkness fills my head with pain as I collapse.

Through the shattering pain I see her stumble and clutch her neck as she turns at me. I see the shovel in time to duck it this time. I scramble to get up, but my legs are all confused and refuse to work together. I collapse in a heap once more in the bubbling marsh, half of my face submerged in the water. I cry as I feel her hooves kick me in the ribs.

She kicks again, her hooves sinking into my soft belly, and I lose all my air. I try to get up. I desperately cry for air, but all I get is water and mud as she forces my head down. I struggle and kick, but it's no use.

My lungs scream in burning, flooded agony. I twitch and fight, but her hooves keep me down, pressing my head deeper and deeper into the swamp with terrible anger.

I kick out and feel my leg connect with her, but it is a feeble kick. She pushes down harder.

I try to focus my mind on a spell, but nothing happens. The darkness of the cold grave surrounds me as I join the souls of the swamp in their eternal sleep. I close my eyes to the world, and I dream.

I am her unicorn, and I will never stop dreaming, not until the day Midnight rots in her grave forever.

I gasp for breath and collapse in the deep mud of the swamp. I lift an aching, trembling hoof to wipe the mud and water out of my eyes as I look up at the big, dirty lump of rock in my other hoof.

It is not a rock. A small horn extends from the mud and grime, and it has a small crack down the middle. Two large holes beneath the horn peer back at me, and a large crack runs along the side of the skull where once a shovel struck it. The lower jaw has broken off long ago. I find it buried in the mud beneath me, along with the rest of her body under the mud and weeds of ages.

I pull myself back up on my legs, clutching the skull close to my chest as I stagger through the darkness, trying to find my way. It is dark all around me. I don't remember how I got here or where 'here' is. I have no idea how long it's been or where the others are.

All around me I see nothing but the swamp and the darkness.

“Cheerilee?”

I stumble forward on three legs, sniffing and blinking away tears and mud. My mane clings to my face and my tail drags along in the dirt behind me.

“S-Scootaloo? Apple B-Bloom?”

I cry and lean my head against the old trunk of a tree. I'm tired, so tired. I sit down under the dead crown of the tree and sob in my loneliness. “I-I don't want to be alone,” I sniff and hug the skull.

A pair of beady black eyes at the end of a long, gray beak look down at me. The large black bird spreads its wings and lets out a hollow screech. I stare up at it, afraid to look away as I back up against the tree. The bird folds its wings and tilts its head, its evil eyes studying me closely.

I roll up, hugging myself and the skull, trying to drive out the cold.

Please, somepony … anypony.

The birds won't leave me alone. There are more of them now, and their black soulless eyes follow me around everywhere I go. I think the sun is rising at last. The dull red light gleams in their eyes, reflecting their evil. Perhaps the sun will drive them away.

I pick up a rock—It tastes of rot and decay in my mouth—and throw it at them. “Leave me alone!” They just flutter and screech and settle back down with vengeful eyes.

I weep and look up at the endless stretch of swamp ahead of me. I'm tired and hungry. My mouth tastes of filth. I just want to go home. I just want to see my friends again.

My legs shiver, and I fall. I hit the ground for the hundredth time. I don't have the power to get up again. I'll just lie here for a while. I'll just … close my eyes for a moment.

The rain has been pouring down all day. I tried to drink some of it as it fell. It helped me go on a little longer.

I'm cold and soaked all through. I've been coughing for the last few hours, and my stomach feels like it's eating itself. I've been calling for help so much that I don't think I could utter another word.

I think I'm walking in the wrong direction.

The sun is setting.

I'm not going to make it.

I can't go on. I wish I could tell my friends that I miss them, and my sister, and mom and dad. I miss them all. I'd give anything to see them again. Even Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.

It's dark now. The moon shines down at me through the clouds. I wonder if she would listen if I wished. I don't have any voice left.

I close my eyes and hug myself and the skull. In a hundred years, somepony will find my bones and think I had two heads. The thought makes me laugh. I don't know why it's funny or why I'm laughing.

“Don't give up, Sweetie Belle.”

I look up into the gentle cyan eyes of the Night. She smiles back at me, an inner strength radiating off her face.

“You must stay strong,” her voice whispers, and with a wing she lifts my head. “Open your eyes for me. Open them, and let me see.”

I cough, and the dream fades as I look up at the star-lit sky for a moment. Then I collapse again and forget everything as I close my eyes.

“Sweetie Belle!”

I can feel the texture of the rotten earth and the stale water around me as I sink, hooves pushing me down. I can taste the death and decay in my mouth, filling my throat. I'm too weak to fight it.

“Over here! She's over here! Sweetie Belle, can you hear me? Wake up, Sweetie Belle!”

The world is hushed and empty. I clutch her skull in my hooves like a lifebuoy.

“AB! Quick! Send up the flare!”

A snake of fire runs through the darkness, coiled at the center like a sun. I am lifted out of the water by strong hooves that smell of school.

The soft curtains cast dancing shadows on the white blanket of the bed as a breeze from the open window plays through my mane. On the nightstand beside the bed, Mandrake's hollow eyes watch the wall in deathly silence. Somepony washed the skull for me. I am in the hospital, back in Dappleshore. Outside the early morning sun warms the streets. I watch my hooves as I smooth the blanket over my chest and let the seconds and minutes drift by on the wind outside.

Minutes pass, and I look up to see Scootaloo as the door opens. She hurries over and gives me a hug without saying a word. I'm really glad to see her too. “How are you feeling?” she finally says as she lets go and settles down on the bed next to me.

“I don't know,” I say honestly, brushing the sheet with a hoof as I look down.

“It's going to be okay,” she says. “We're going back to Ponyville today. Cheerilee says the ship sails before dinner. I already packed all your things for you back at the hotel, so you don't have to worry about that.” She looks down at her hooves too, then up at the skull. “Mr. Peat from the museum said you could keep the skull too, if you wanted. I don't know why you'd keep a thing like that, but you were hugging it so tightly when we found you. I thought you'd wanna know.”

I look up at her. “I wish I could kiss you, Scootaloo.” She blushes and looks a bit uneasy, glancing at the door and me. I smile at her. “Don't worry, Scoots, you know I would never do that. But thanks. I really mean it.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” She scratches the back of her neck. “I'm just happy to be leaving this place soon. I can't wait to get back to Ponyville. I really don't want a cutie mark for being a detective anymore. I think some things are better left undetected, or something.”

I look at the white blanket, which is no longer smooth after Scootaloo's hug. “Me neither,” I say as I smooth it out again. “I miss my sister, and Ponyville. I just want to go home.”

Scootaloo seems to like hearing me say that. She smiles and hugs me again, ruining my work on the blanket. I don't complain at all, however. Instead I hug her back and make sure she knows I don't want her to let go. I sneak a little nuzzle of her neck. She startles a little at the touch, and I quickly stop.

There's a knock on the door frame, and I hear Apple Bloom cough. “Uh, you two don't mind if I come in, right?” she asks as she steps into the room.

Scootaloo is first to let go. I reluctantly release her as well, and we both sit up in bed. Apple Bloom smiles and hugs me briefly too. “I brought you some of your things,” she says and lets go.

Apple Bloom digs through her saddlebag and pulls out the old scarf I bought in Baltimare, and my favorite doll, Stitch. “I got the scarf cleaned for you,” she says and drops it on the bed before holding out the doll to me. “And I thought you'd want this back, too. I think I can go one night without a doll.”

I nuzzle the soft fabric of the familiar scarf before picking up the doll, looking at its button eyes and stitched face. I hold the doll tight and sniff as I close my eyes.

We can dream on together, Daffodil.

I look back at the village sadly and trot to the front of the ship where I can watch as it slowly leaves the harbor and sets sail for open water. Far across the bay but still out of sight lies Baltimare, and beyond that Ponyville, waiting for our return. I hold Stitch close and wrap the scarf a little tighter around me as I stare ahead.

As we leave Dappleshore after six nights, I know that something remains behind me, unfinished. For I am her unicorn, and where she dreams, I must one day follow.

Author's Notes:

It is probably possible to stop reading the story here and consider it finished. Chapter 7 will explore the events of Fillystata from Sweetie Belle's point of view, as well as her final fate.