Luckily for Zecora's ragtag troupe, the ingredients for the potion were none too difficult to acquire. The forest was huge, spanning untold miles of land, and as such, it had a lot to spare. In its vast generosity, it allowed them to take what they needed with relative ease, and little resistance from the locals.

One incident did spring up, but it was nothing of dire peril, and therefore, Derky decided not to dwell on it. The petals of a Venus Pony Trap were certainly a strange ingredient, but it was listed in the book, and Derky was definitely not one to argue with a book. Books, for the most part, were correct and far smarter than he, and he respected that.

‘Poor Cananor,’ he thought as he guided the now traumatised mare, dripping with thick globs of mucus, over another low lying stump in the ground.

The casually confident unicorn had thought that, in a moment of madness or lapse of common sense, to do a little less complaining and actually pitch her weight in with the rest of the group. For too long had she watched Derky, a featherbrained fool, be held upon a golden pedestal by Zecora; it seemed that they got along like an old married couple, which was odd, for they were like chalk and cheese. But when the zebra cast a rare glance in her direction, it was a completely different story: there wasn’t a mutual respect, nor was there any hint of, not even an ember, of warmth, of emotion. It was robotic, android like, devoid of life; like staring into the face of his father; a blank, silent disappointment. She didn’t take her seriously. Nopony did. Heck, she didn't even laugh at Candi's jokes. Yet, there in her deep azure eyes, Zecora held a glimmer of hope, like she did, somewhere in that hulking great webbed heart of hers, believe in her. And so Candi vowed that others would look down upon her no longer, and so, when the next ingredient, ‘Petals plucked from the Venus Pony Plant’ was announced, she volunteered with nary a second thought, allowing little time for the words to sink into that over-educated, under achieving brain of hers. What even was a ‘Venus Pony Plant’ anyway? She hadn’t a blooming clue, and she didn’t care. She wanted to get back to Zecora’s house as soon as possible. Weatherstorm was hogging all the apple cider, and she was in the mood to merrily drink away her problems.

To cut a long story short, (and this story is already long enough as is) the attorney found the plant before the others, nestled away in the furthest reaches of the thickest undergrowth. It matched the description given by Zecora’s musty old tome, much to her short lived delight, with white-speckled petals, bulbous and scarlet-crimson and tightly sealed together. It drooped from the stalk like a slumbering babe, and she was sure that, should she look closely enough, the flower would rise up and down as though gently breathing. The wind was growing stronger, however, so it worried her not one wit, for flowers do not hesitate to sway in the breeze, and lure the naive into such silly thoughts. The zebra had conjured up a sombre warning before their departure, dissolving at the nearest crossroads to widen their search, but whatever weight the words carried was ineffective and they fell on deaf, or rather proud and ignorant ears.

And so, eager as she was, the mare was a little on the rough side, tearing viciously at the entwined petals like a hungry, rabid animal, furiously digging to unearth whatever treasure may lie within. The scream must have been heard for miles, as far as Derky could understand. The night sky ruptured, the peaceful silence broken and torn asunder, and the whole world trembled in fear. It shook the birds free of the trees and sent the critters diving for cover. The stallion watched them bound away from his outstretched hoof, a gentle symbol companionship, wearing an expression every bit as twisted in horror as the scream itself. The cry of terror cut out as unexpectedly as it started, and then all was still and tranquil once more. The birds returned to their nests, gave a collective squawk of annoyance, and then continued their routine unperturbed, and the squirrels and mice and other forest floor dwellers poked their trembling, curious noses from the darkened holes in the hedges and cracks in the trunks, and black beady pupils shimmered in the moonlight as they suspiciously absorbed the foreign figure of the equine above them.

“Cananor!” Derky bellowed, swivelling around to find the source of the voice. He cupped his mouth. “Cananor...? I mean Candi!” He corrected himself, paused for a moment as though processing the information, then followed with, “Candidor!” Something about that last attempt was rather off, but as to why, he could not put his hoof on it. “Candidor, I’m coming to save you!” He tripped over his own clumsiness mere seconds later.Fortunately for him, there were none present to witness his fall, but for the giggling mice and such, and at that present moment the notion was well and truly out of his system, and he could have cared a less what the animals thought of him. They could go and get stuffed.

Zecora was already there by the time Derky just-as-deftly manoeuvred his way over other such small, knee high obstacles, and the leaf litter that clung to his hair highlighted the fact that, in his hurry, he’d likely traversed the majority of the short journey there on his face. His features relaxed at once as he saw the problem, and how utterly trivial it was.

Candi had her head stuck in the mouth of the Venus Pony Trap. The beige body attached to the end of said head was flailing wildly, forelegs and hind legs slipping and sliding over dirt and soil, and pushing up the daisies at her hooves into a horrid earthly mound. Her head was obscured from view, of course; the plant’s mouth, for it was all mouth, made sure of that. For all he knew, the plant was smiling, as though enjoying a private joke. Candi didn’t find this joke particularly funny, however, as her muffled cries for help made apparent, which was odd, for surely she, being the joker of the group, should get along just swell with a fellow prankster?

The zebra watched the scene play out with a solemn sigh and a weary whisper in her native tongue.

“Cananor, you didn’t heed my warnings, you fool,

I told you that waking a Venus Pony Plant is a recipe for doom!”

Derky sniggered. She’d certainly not heeded her warning, that’s for sure. It seemed as though his unfortunate friend Candi had made the same mistake that Weatherstorm had made, and now she was paying the same humiliating price. He shrugged his shoulders and scoured the floor below him for a snake to throw at the hostile flower. Throwing snakes could fix almost all problems, he was sure of it.

Zecora, as though she could telepathically read the stallion’s thoughts, gently lowered his hoof to his side.

“I know you mean well,

But I think I should handle this, Derky Bells.”

Derky gave a warm smile and shrugged. “Whatever you say, Zecora. You know best.”

The zebra did indeed know best. She sauntered confidently over to the ensnared Candi and her captor, and did something that Derky thought was either the bravest thing he’d ever seen, or the stupidest. On any account, it was bizarre.

She stroked the plant.

Derkington cringed so intensely that his face may very well have imploded inwards. This wasn’t going to end well.

Had the beast possessed eyes, they would have fluttered open at once. It shuddered to her touch, giving a little quiver.

“Shh,” soothed the soothsayer, calmly and quietly, like she was comforting a small child. “Shh...”

Biting his lip, Derky resumed his search for some passing serpent. A rock, a twig, a fallen leaf, anything he could throw. He saw only one possible outcome from Zecora’s actions: a two for one deal on ponies and zebras, and then it would fall on him to do twice the rescuing.

To his surprise, his assumptions were wrong, for Zecora remained relatively uneaten. The ferocious flower softened, saliva, sap and other bodily fluids seeping from between clasped teeth and dribbling down Candi’s erect body, limbs poised perfectly straight by her sides. She had given up struggling, likely after realizing that movement was constricting her further, rather than aiding her in her quest for freedom. Zecora kept her hoof pressed the top petal of the creature, whispering sweet and soothing melodies. “Shh,” cooed she. “Shh.”

The plant made a noise akin to a cat purring as she worked her hoof up and down the flower’s stem, and then back to its head, stroking its silky petals, caressing its every leaf. A thorny smile formed and at that moment, Zecora lifted her foreleg from the creature and took a step back, watching, waiting.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she cut through its whimpers like a stern schoolteacher as the bulbous bulb wavered blindly, groping at the still air to find her embrace once more.

“First you must do something for me.

In this case, release the one called ‘Candi.’”

The plant hesitated. Candi dangled uselessly, limply.

“Don’t fool me, Mister

You needn’t stop to pause.

Indeed, you know the one of speak of quite well,

For she protrudes between your jaws.”

If a plant could physically look disappointed, then this beast was making a darned good stab at it. Like a mischievous puppy, the Venus Pony Plant teased, opening its mouth just a little before clamping it shut again, prompting a startled, stifled scream from Candi. Eventually, though, the urge was too great and all at once, the behemoth of a mouth opened wide and out tumbled Candi, sprawling to the ground with a ‘Umph!’ and followed by a sickly gush of a sticky clear substance which spewed out like a vile waterfall.

The lawyer looked rather shaken up; she lay, coughing and gagging, collapsed along the grass with her limbs twisted at odd angles like those of a broken toy’s as the gloopy mixture lapped at her body like the foaming tide along the Equestrian coast.

Derky swooped over and, placing a hoof under each leg, hoisted her up and away from under the shade of the towering flower. Her complexion was as pale as that of a ghost’s, her fur matted and the fibres stuck together. The mare’s muzzle was screwed up into a crumpled frown, and her eyes were left wide and white and staring at nothing. Derky had heard about that in one of Weatherstorm’s articles once; the million mile stare, or something to that effect.

“There, there,” Zecora praised the plant. Eager to please, it rubbed against her hoof and soaked up the words of praise like a sponge. “Was that so hard?”

The plant shook slowly from side to side.

“Shh, rest a while. That’s it, sleep.

You’re feeling tired, so tired, so very, very, weak.”

The plant drooped, becoming as drowsy as Zecora told it that it was, until it slumped over altogether. A plant snoring is a strange sound indeed. It snorted, a thick glob of saliva stringing from its chin, then settled, finding the most comfortable angle for its slumber, then smacked its fat leafy lips and became still, silent.

Having dealt with the plant, Zecora turned her attention to the unicorn mare. She was as still and silent as the plant was, staring directly upwards with unblinking eyes into the reasonably concerned face of Derky. Her left foreleg trembled uncontrollably, but for the most part, she was at rest and motionless.

“Candi?” Derky pawed at her. “Candi, breakfast is ready! Candi? Cananor?” He faced Zecora. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”

Zecora frowned. “I did tell her to beware,

It’s not my fault she got a scare.”

“But she’s okay, right?” Derky was panicking now.

The zebra cracked a smile. “Worry not, she will be fine,

I just suggest you give her time.”

Derky nodded in understanding, pulled the shellshocked lawyer to her hooves, and slung her hoof around his shoulder. The unicorn looked ready to topple, hooves swinging wildly and blindly, for their owners hadn’t it in them to look down. Her eyes lay fixated on the snoozing plant. Derky didn’t flinch under the weight of the unicorn, supporting her mass with nary a sweat. They started down the path, strolling and hobbling respectively.

“One minute, please, before we leave.

I must collect the required ingredient; a petal, a leaf.”

She tip-toed back to the Venus Pony Plant, wary not to wake the sleeping beast from its peaceful state. Her hooves were fainter than a whisper along the grass, making so little noise that she moved like a ghost, barely even disturbing the grass blades underhoof.

Let sleeping carnivorous flora lie.

Having reached the plant once more, she gently, barely even making contact, ran her hoof down its cheek (?) and across the length of its chin. Her dark swirling eyes, fireworks in the abyss, absorbed the hidden beauty of the beast, took in its smiling, sleeping shape. Her hands moved quicker than light itself, for there was a black and white blur and the muffled jangle of her bangles, and then she was gripping a waxy leaf like a fairground prize, looking rather pleased with herself. She’d plucked it straight from the stalk, somewhere near the bottom. It was small, unimportant, unnoticed; it wouldn’t be missed, surely. It was quickly bagged, tossed in with all the other odd ingredients they had collected. One thing was certain: it was going to be one vile tasting antidote.

“What now?” Inquired Derky, rushing to stop Candi tumbling off down an embankment and into some unseen ditch at the bottom. “On the list, I mean?”

“Sloberry seed is next to aquire.

After that, the dragon fire.”

“Oh goody, I’ve always wanted to see a proper dragon up close!” He clapped his hooves together and only realized his mistake when Candi slipped from his shoulder, no longer supported, and began to slide sideways down the embankment, rigid and solid as a stone. Derky caught her, tail in mouth, and with a garbled grunt, dragged her back up and onto all fours. He dusted her off, fixed her mane, and apologised.

And so, that led to now. They had been walking for anything upwards of fifteen minutes in absolute silence, for Candi was obviously in no fit state to talk, what with her ‘mind all sucked by a big flower and whatnot’ as Derky thought, and Zecora was a mare on a mission. He felt as though she liked him, at least he hoped she did, as an acquaintance and an equal, maybe even a friend; but she was cold, and focused, and unfriendly in the nicest sort of way possible. Distant, for a better word. Mysterious, and she seemed to like keeping it that way. He didn’t know what she had lived like in her home country: whether she had friends, or family, or any other equine contact at all was open for debate. Not a conversationalist by any means.

The witch doctor only opened her mouth once during the journey, ceasing her movement so sudden that Derky’s momentum carried both him and Candi into her behind. She did not seem to notice, for there was no reaction. Instead, she held her head high to the night sky, closed her eyes, and darted through the shrubbery. Derky clambered in after her, Candi staggering in beside him, taking quite a battering from the twigs that poked at their underbellies. Zecora sat on the other side, perfectly still like a gargoyle perched atop a spire. She didn’t move nor speak, her eyes closed and head tilted snobbishly high. The wind ruffled her Mohawk of a mane and separated the black strands from the white. A few short seconds later, Candi appeared, tumbling from the sea of green and rolling to a stop, upside down against the tree that Zecora rested under. The leaves rattled and the trunk shook, but Zecora kept her pose intact. Candi, still in her vegetative state, made no attempt to move.

“Candi!” Cried Derky as he galloped to his friend’s aid, motioning to help her to her hooves. Zecora’s voice came from behind him and he stopped, and turned. The zebra mare spoke quietly and deliberately, eyes still closed, from the corner of her mouth. It formed her words with no detectable emotion.

“Candi has the right idea, Derky.

Do not move her from that state.

The plant at your hooves is the Slobberry,”

The mare gestured with her head towards the base of the tree trunk. There, half buried under Candi’s tangled flank and tail, was a cluster of flowers. Derky did not consider himself a botanist but he’d never seen a plant like this before, not even in Everfree, home of the bizarre. Some of the strands were bell shaped, others more like domes, more still in every shape and size imaginable. They all drooped so low they touched the grass and lazily brushed aside the green strands with a sound akin to a high pitched, gentle sigh. There were many different colours, but none of them particulary exciting. Whilst the rest of the forest was alive with vibrant greens and blues and pinks and yellows and oranges as glowing as the sunset, the bulbs of this plant were drab and boring, monotone greys. It was almost as though they simply could not be bothered to even look in any way interesting.

“Be patient, please, and wait.” She finished her line of poetry and then fell silent once more.

Derky sat beside her and pondered for a moment. “I don’t get it,” he whispered to Zecora as lowly as he could.

“The Slobberry, or Slob-berry

Is a lazy plant, through and through.

It lacks the effort to spread its seed,

To obtain it, so should you.”

After a full minute, Derky’s dark green eyes lit up with understanding. “Ah!” he resumed, silently. “So you can't get the seeds by force, but if you act as lazily as it behaves, it might THINK we’re another Slobberry flower? By sitting still and doing nothing?”

Zecora gave a barely noticeable nod.

“Uuuuabababa...” stammered Candi, still reclined along the tree trunk. Her eyes did not deter from straight ahead, staring at nothing.

“No,” hissed Derky in reply. “I didn't take a night class on Slobberries, silly.”

In silence they sat. In silence they stared. In silence they... meditated would be a grievous misuse of the word, for meditation requires concentration, and concentration requires effort, and they were far too slobbish and lazy for such ‘effort.’ Even thinking the word was tiring. Hours passed without event. Sitting. Waiting. Letting out the occasional disgruntled sigh, back to waiting.

Derky had almost dosed off to sleep, eyes heavy and cumbersome, when Zecora nudged him (almost toppling the stallion) and gestured to the plant. “Look,” she whispered.

The bulbs of the plant began to rise off of the ground, ever so slowly. So slowly that one would be certain that they were not moving at all but alas, they were indeed rising upwards. Derky thought, as he watched the heads shiver and rise, that his eyes were playing tricks on him, that he was dreaming. He watched in disinterested awe (something he did not know was even possible) as they stiffened and erected and stood straight on their stalks. They still hung low, as though depressed, showing little to no vigour or energy, but they were a fair deal more active than they had been for the past few hours or indeed, since it had been since it was a tiny sapling. It was a miracle the thing had enough effort to grow, to strive for sunlight in this majestic green land. The biggest bulb, colourless petals closed like the dormant Venus Pony Plant, rose above the others and reached out to Zecora. Trying to make as little movement as possible, she held out her bag and the bulb peeled apart, revealing a singular seed within: the smallest seed ever seen. It was nearly too minuscule to be seen with the equine eye, but Derky swore it was a copper brown. The plant gave a wheezing cough and into the bag toppled the seed, and back to the ground the plant toppled too. There it lay, unmoving but for the current of the wind.

“Did it just fall asleep with the effort?” commented Derky.

Zecora re-bound the bag with the rope and gently shook it. Satisfied with what she heard, she sprung to all four hooves and said,

“Dragon fire

Is the last ingredient we must acquire.”

Derky, joints aching from hours of inactivity, flapped his wings and spun in a small loop de loop arc. “Whoo, dragons!” He cheered. “Oh, goody goody gumdrops!”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh,” Groaned an upside down mare. Derky wrapped his hooves around her long, flicking, aqua tail and, with the greatest care, dragged her up.

“I know!” He beamed to Candi. “I’m excited too!”

“Mmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaahuh.”

As they walked further North-East, and the trees began to thin out, the massive mountain range known as ‘Dragon’s Keep’ grew larger and larger, towering above them like a colossus, until it consumed the horizon and their path lay dark, the moon and stars blotted from existence by its form. The steady crunch of hooves on grass faded away over time, soft footfalls giving way to the harsh echoing thuds of hooves on rock as the greenery drew back into itself, reclining further and further behind them until it was non-existent, and the ground underhoof became hard and unkind and barren. The slope was unnoticeable, at first. In fact, Derky failed to notice that he was slowly climbing the gentle gradient until Zecora informed him of such, and when he looked back he saw in the fading forest stretched out below him in all its greenish glory. If he peered closely enough, he could see a flume of smoke arise from somewhere in the middle of the vast woodland, and he could only assume that Starfire had lit a cosy fire in Zecora’s hut to comfort poor Weatherstorm. He dearly hoped he was okay, he truly did. Both the path they had came from and her hut were cloaked under the heavy forest roof, concealing them from view. But it mattered not to him; he was a stallion on a mission, never looking back from whence he came, only ever looking forward at where he was going. And so Derkington turned and faced his future, which just so happened to be a ruddy big active volcano range infested with fire breathing reptiles, and not once did he look back.

The gentle slope was short lived, and what lay before (or rather, above) them as they reached the base of the mountain was an almost 90 degree vertical wall, a murderous spire that sliced apart the clouds and, it could only be assumed, pierced the surface of the moon. Zecora made no effort to slow her pace and, without hesitation, she drove her hooves into one of the wedges in-between the cracks of the weatherworn rockface. And so, Derky followed her determination; he managed, with some minor difficulties, to levitate Candi off of the ground, place her on the closest ledge, and followed suit, aiding her progress with the occasional helpful hoist. The mare looked genuinely lost, her vacant expression like a snapshot, even during her frequent slips off of the side of the mountain. Luckily, a certain Pegasus was always at hand to stop her from falling too far. That’s what friends are for, after all: to be there when you’re feeling (or falling, for a better word) down.

When he felt the first drop of rain drop upon his forehead, Derky paused: rain wasn’t scheduled for this week, he was sure of it. But lo, there it was again, a tiny wet spec, landing on the tip of his nose with a silent splash. He licked at the wetness and crinkled his snout. Was he imagining things, had he gone mad? Not so! Another droplet of rain, then another, and another, and in but a few seconds the air was heavy with crystal droplets and the mountain-face dark and slick and precariously slippery. The stallion nearly toppled, hooves sliding out from the crevice which supported his body, as he craned his head skyward, but wings he had and wings he used to avoid a rather nasty fall. Flittering away from the mountainside, he held aloft his forelegs and allowed the rainfall to collect in his cupped hooves. The water sloshed and swished hypnotically in swirling little circles, and pooled out over the sides of his hooves, running down his legs and dampening the fur, and pouring out along the parting of his ginger mane.

The clouds, which mere minutes before were as white as white can be, looked as black as charcoal and as dull as metal, stained with ash. They wept over their lost beauty and soiled magnificence, heavenly tears transforming the land far below. Derky found the whole thing bizarre; for as long as he could remember, the weather kept to a schedule. And there was no schedule for rain this week, none at all, and certainly not in light of the ‘recent developments’ in Equestria.

But of course, the Everfree Forest was indeed truly free, as the name suggested. Free from the rules and regulations, the shackles of Equestrian society, Equestrian law, and as such, it bore no master and obeyed no pony. The weather abided by no silly ‘schedule’ and the magic of the Pegasi. No. Out here, in this beautifully deadly land of its own design, nature made its own rules. When it wanted to rain, it rained; when it felt as though it wanted to snow then snow fell, and there wasn’t an ounce of magical intervention involved, as there was no taming the will of a wild beast.

It confused and mystified Derky all at once. He’d lived in Cloudsdale for almost half of his admittedly short life, and his parents were the proud owners of Bell Incorporated; weather manufacture was their middle name. And in Cloudsdale, the celestial city in the sky, it was all too easy to become accustomed to the sight of element manufacture. He’d tagged along with his father to work countless times as a foal and he’d look out of those gargantuan paned double windows, that birthed life to society, outside of the cosy office and cold mansion, and peer down upon the scurrying workers below. There the colt would see it all: it was very surreal and magical. Rain and shine and hail and, his favourite, thunder, was all conceived in those fantastical machines and spat out in a flume of smoke and a flash of a creator’s divine delight. And then it was packaged and shipped and sent with the weather teams, who disappeared off to do their duty. His father had always told him, when he had paid him any attention or showed him but a sample of warmth, he said that one day when he was old enough, he would have complete control of the weather, just as his father did. Of course, such orders came from a higher being than his father; they came from the princess, and his father merely obliged to her ultimate will. But here, now, at this edge of the world, Derky came to grips with how unnatural and synthetic it all was. Sure, it went against everything he knew but somehow, out here, it all felt... right. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but maybe the Everfree wasn’t as ‘unnatural’ as ponies stated it was. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was quite the opposite.

He was distracted by a snap and a muffled mumble emanate from somewhere below, and when he glanced down he saw that Candi had slid straight off of the mountainside in the absence of his attention, and she was spilled along a piece of thick vegetation which clung to the side of the rockface. The branches seemed to penetrate every orifice, but her expression seemed unperturbed: quizzical, if you will. Derky promised to cease and desist thinking on the rain further, for he had explored the subject and its relevance to him in its fullest, and was satisfied that somewhere, somehow, if some other were to be reading of his misadventures, he had explained his momentary confusion to the best of his ability, and such a fictional omnipresent onlooker would be at the very least content. Precipitation carving his brow, he gently untangled Candi and helped her up what remained of the mountain, in the pouring rain no less.

They stopped on a small, perilous ledge on the rim of the volcano, just out of view. By miracle or magic, Zecora was there by the time the duo arrived. For one without wings, she was one fast mare, and obviously an expert mountain-climber with balance and poise. She didn’t look up as Candi’s hooves and head appeared from up over her horizon, and then Derky. Her saddlebag lay open and the contents disassembled across the stone cliffside. A parasol, black and white all over, shielded her from the weather, wedged into some crevice in the ground. She seemed to be having a rather pleasant time, relaxed and cool, laid comfortably against the rock wall with her hind legs outstretched and bangles clanking as with every page she turned in her hardback.

“What took so long, Derky Bell?” She asked, flipping another page with a lick of her hoof.

“I began to think the worst, you fell.”

Derky dropped Candi safely from the ledge edge. The unicorn seemed rooted to the spot, staring off into the misty skyline. She was carefully ushered under the umbrella by Derky, for fear that she might catch hypothermia standing in such conditions.

Soaked to the bone and smiling all the while, Derky squeezed himself under the parasol and nestled in beside Zecora, as cosy as a bug in a rug, furry brown cheek rubbing against hers. He pulled Candi back under the cover. “No, I was just admiring the rain. I’ve never seen the rain do that before.”

“Admiration can wait, it won’t spoil.

But now we need ingredients to boil.

Stay low, and search the area, be quick, don’t sloth,

And very soon your friends will be sipping hot broth.”

The Pegasus nodded in understanding, slid back onto all fours, and hesitated before leaving the shelter of the umbrella. Instead, he held his hoof out in the rain for a few moments and shivered as the droplets beat off of it for but a few moments, watching the water drip away and mingle with the rest of the rainfall. Satisfied, a big beaming grin crept along his lips, and he whispered, “No magic. Amazing.” Zecora seemed far less fascinated by the whole thing and Derky had not a clue how the weather worked in her home country, but to him it was one of the most magical non-magical experiences he had ever even conceived the mere thought of.

It took a correcting cough from Zecora to get him back on track. He blushed, shrugged his shoulders, and then fluttered off into the rain, disappearing over the cloth of the parasol.

Zecora put down her book, straightened her back, and twiddled her hooves. The fate of Equestria was in good hooves, of that much she was sure. So brave and pure of heart, and of such unparalleled kindness towards friends. Yes, Equestria need not worry. She knew it deep down...

“Uh, what am I doing again? I wasn’t listening.” Derky’s face re-emerged but seconds later, upside down, peeping over the rim of the umbrella. His mane, dripping and matted, lay around his features and splashed Zecora, and her reading material, with transparent wetness.

With a grunt, the mare shook off the dampness, and swept away her Mohawk.

“We need to know if the area is safe and secure.

Your wings will help you scout ahead.

If we blindly march up there, unprepared, unsure”

She paused, and for a moment, a flicker of fear flashed along her steadfast features.

“Well, some things are better left unsaid.”

“Oh yeah!” Derky mumbled, drawing out the last word to an impossible length. “That’s it! Took me a minute or two to get my bearings.”

“Take care not to be seen, and good luck.

For if a dragon spies you, I’m afraid we’re...”

“I’m going to have to stop you there,” interrupted the upside-down Pegasus. “All the blood is running to my head, and I think I’m starting to smell colours. Back in a jiffy.” With that, off he flew.

“...stuck.” Zecora finished her rhyme to thin air, for Derky was no longer there. She lay back down, wrung her mane of water, and silently waited. Candi mumbled something intangible and wandered dangerously close to the edge of the cliffside, pacing back and forth, as though thinking deeply on some matter. Zecora bowed her head in silence. The fate of the entire world rested in the hooves of these individuals, and she had the utmost confidence in their abilities.

But a quick prayer did no harm.

Derky flew up the remainder of the mountain which, considering the altitude of their resting spot jutting out of the side, wasn’t very far at all. High, high above him rolled the graphite clouds, their depression an ongoing emotion showing no sign of fading, liquid sadness gushing down in great streaming rivers.

At last, the mountain narrowed considerably and Derky found himself atop the spire, and the Pegasus found himself breathless. He’d seen many beautiful sights in his short journey thus far, and he’d surveyed the land atop many wonderful vantage points, but none as special as this. For what lay beyond the stallion was more than just Equestria; it was the entire world. He’d seen it all before, in Cloudsdale, the cities and towns and rolling hills of his fair land far below him, and it was truly beautiful, but it FELT so small and enclosed. This, however... this was freedom. No ground below saw he, but an ocean, deep and pure and uncharted. The waves rolled and lolled hypnotically, and this blue canvas stretched on as far as his imagination would limit. There, in the distance, no bigger than a speck of dust, he could see a thin line along the horizon, and knew at once that it was land. What land, he did not know, but that added to the mystery of it all. The sea reclined gently to the Eastern coastline, tides lapping against the rock, the edge of Equestria. An entire mountain range sprawled along his field of vision, hundreds of cragged stony spires jutting proudly into the air like regal castles and battlements running miles to the Equestrian shore, some tipped with a velvet snow, and what inhabited them were the rightful rulers of the wilderness; dragons, the kings of their own private demesne. He could see them, those frightful flying fireballs, those fantastical phantasms. They seemed larger than life, every detail recognisable at first glance. There were at least ten or twelve, from what he could count, and they swooped to and fro where they pleased, for these were their kingdoms, their keep.

Derky could have watched them for hours and he did watch them for what felt like decades. They were very skilled fliers, dragons; they could pull off aerial manoeuvres like it was nothing. They swirled and danced and soared through the skies, performing valiantly for a show they had no knowledge of being a part of.

“Meep!” Exclaimed the Pegasus with a strangled gasp, narrowly avoiding the passing glare of a winged beast which seemed to come from thin air. With a quiet exhale, he dipped back below the mountaintop and pressed his stomach against the cracked rock, hooves hooked around the rim and head peeping mischievously over the top. The dragon, no more than twenty meters from his position, scanned the area hungrily, narrowed its greedy eyes to nothing but slits, and gave a mighty sniff, nose twitching furiously and blinding teeth armed, unsheathed by its thick, leathery lips.

Heart in his mouth, Derky ducked his head back behind the mountainside and held his breath, making sure to cover his mouth least some errant breath slip betwixt his sealed lips. Over the sound of the falling rain, he heard the dragon grunt, snort, and then the great flap of monstrous wings. He felt the swoop of air cut through the falling water and alter its direction, and a swift breeze the ruffled the hair on the back of his head and caused it to stand up tall. Smiling manically, he leaned back over the side of the mountainside, wings flapping wildly; directly below him was another volcano, small and squat. The mountain culminated in a round, rough-edged crater, filled to the brim with a viscous lava and it was within this lava chamber that the dragon made itself comfortable, laying as gracefully as one so enormous and bulky such as itself could muster. A pile of treasures lay close at hoof, bundled in a gruff manner along the slope of the crater, and around these treasures the dragon curled itself into a ball, chin resting on the spines of its tail. A guttural yawn filled the atmosphere, one last weary look to the sky, then slumber.

The Pegasus giggled at the scene. It was so cute! Well, despite being quadruple his size and able to breathe fire, that is... Back down the mountainside he descended, taking care to make as little noise as possible, and in no time at all he had scaled his way back to the ledge upon which Zecora and Cananor resided. The hind leg of the Pegasus shot out at an awkward angle and knocked over the brightly coloured parasol, exposing the duo to the elements. Candi remained ever unfazed. Zecora wringed her mane but kept a straight enough face.

“There's twelve, maybe thirteen dragons,” explained Derky, tilting the umbrella upright. “I wouldn’t worry, though. They’re mostly pretty far away, so they won’t see us.”

“That is all well and good,

And will prevent us becoming dragon food,” Replied the zebra.

“But we must get close to them and risk death,

To bottle their up their dragon’s breath.”

Derky pulled a smug, ‘matter of factly’ face. It did not do him any favours appearance wise. “Aha!” He quipped, stoking his chin and nearly losing his balance off the side of the crumbling ledge. “We’re lucky duckies, then. There’s a particularly fatigued fellow from the looks of it, snoozing away on the other side of this mountain, isosceles from... I mean, ISOLATED, from his bro... brethren, and, uh... filibuster...” His head began to spin, and Derky feared he had used too many semi-big words he didn’t quite fully grasp the meaning of. “I mean, there’s a big dragon and he’s asleep and he isn’t beside the other dragons and we won’t get seen and we won't get eaten.” He pasued and gasped in air as though each mouthful would be his last.

Zecora slammed the pages of her book shut. “Then let us sneak upon this sleeping titan,

And relieve him of but a sample of his heat, to execute our plan.”

They scaled the rest of the mountain without much more to be said, Derky showing them the way and helping out where he could, making sure Candi didn’t fall to a violent demise. At the top they once again rested, for the sake of Candi more than any other pony, and caught their collective breaths.

The dragon still slumbered far below them, so small from such a height, yet so full of character. Great funnels of smoke rose with every snore the beast took, which stretched out like a thunderous boom over the mountain peak, shaking loose rocks from under the onlooker’s hooves.

“Mmmmmmuahhhh...” mumbled Candi deafly, shuddering in sync with the seismic-like shaking.

“Yeah,” Derky agreed. “Dragons DO look like big lizards.”

“Huuhhh...”

Passing down the other side of the mountain made climbing up look like foal’s play. Derky didn’t dare look down, for even he grew visibly sick when he saw the vast, infinite drop below them, and the bubbling vat of lava at the bottom, eager for one of them to slip and meet a violent demise: and he had wings. He could only imagine how Zecora felt clambering down the rocky mountainside with such a great drop below her, and could only guess what Candi’s panicked grunts actually meant as he lowered her. Derky’s heart was racing, and a twinge of fear niggled at the back of his mind – what if his wings gave way? What if he had wing cramp? He fought such silly thoughts away. He’d been flying for years, after all, and whilst he was hardly an expert aviator, he’d certainly never experienced such unpleasantness whilst up in the air, nor did he even know of anypony who had experienced such unpleasantness. Well... aside from Weatherstorm, but he was a big drama queen sometimes, bless him. And so the notion was forgotten.

With blind luck (and it truly was blind, for Derky’s eyes were sealed shut for the majority of the descent) the three pony party made their way down the perilous slope, and found themselves on the equally perilous slope of a magma chamber.

Out of the frying pan and into the literal fire.

Derkington gave Candi his hoof and gently helped her flailing forelegs find the floor. There they stood, three insignificant specks against the might of the world, amongst the true giants of the universe. It put things into perspective, for Derky anyway. On the other side of the volcano lay one unconscious dragon, paramount to their quest. Carefully, they slowly tread their way around the thin rim of the crater, shimmying sideways, spoilt for choice regarding a view of their deadly journey; either they looked directly forwards and were met with the sight of millions of tons of burning molten liquid sloshing mere meters below their hooves, or maybe they would prefer to glance behind them and see how high up they still were, the ground below nothing but a blank, indistinguishable blank grey canvas? Neither seemed particularly riveting to Derky, of course: he kept his eyes on the dragon-shaped prize and didn’t dare falter.

Guiding Candi by the hoof like a mother, Derky made sure she was safely out of harm’s way and on a more stable, more spacious piece of the volcano rim before he went back, met Zecora halfway, and too lent her aid, the nice little pony that he was. The Pegasus smiled as he helped her over the last jump to safety.

The dragon was close now, very close: Closer than Candi ever wanted to be to a dragon, but of course, Derky didn’t hear her complaining, so all was well. With such a substantially-sized creature laying asleep no more than ten to twenty meters from his muzzle, Derky suddenly felt inferior, like he was nothing on this planet. It was the very definition of immenseness, claiming the entire mountain peak as its own, and he was so small in comparison.

Only a second, less sizable lava pool stood between them and the dozing dragon. What this second magma vent lacked in size, it made up for depth and volume. Orange it wasn’t, rather the burning molten magma was a rich volcanic red, burning hot even to look at. Every raindrop that hit the surface of the crushed rock snapped and crackled and wisped off in a sizzle of smoke, most droplets not even making it that far, evaporated into nothingness as they approached the open pool. Zecora stopped their party from venturing forward at once.

“Stay back, ponies, mistake this not for a mere candle,” the witch doctor issued a grave warning.

“The heat is far too hot for the likes of us to handle.”

With the newest verse of her ever-expanding poem delivered, Zecora once more slid the saddlebag off of her muscular shoulders with a muffled jangle of metal, and slid it to the floor. Out came the vial, cork and all. It was time to get down to business.

However, one member of the team was still less than motivated to chip in her part, and her part to play was the most crucial to their overall safety. If she didn’t get her act together they would be partaking in considerably less living than they were doing so at the present moment.

“We cannot pass this bubbling pool,

We’ll perish if we get too near.

Unicorn magic is a perfect ranged tool,

With it, the bottle Candi can steer.”

But as of that moment, Candi could not manage to steer her eyes forward, and they rolled uncontrollably around her sockets like glass marbles. Derky began to worry whether the close encounter she’d had with that Venus Pony trap plant had perhaps scarred her a little more than he’d imagined.

He placed a supportive hoof on her back, and it came off running with sweat. He gave Candi a stare almost as blank as her own. “Hey Candi,” he quizzed, standing along her line of vision. “You alright?”

Some garbled reply passed Candi’s lips, but intangible as it was, it was enough to deduce that Candi was, indeed ‘not alright.’ Derky continued. “Could you levitate that vial over to that sleeping dragon? Huh?” He cooed quietly, playfully. “You want to use your fancy-pansy magic bottle us some dragon fire, hmm? Hmm? Would you do that for your uncle Derky?” Chirped her ‘uncle Derky’ with a smile.

The only response was a dry raspberry, half spat from her flopping tongue. Her head wavered wildly.

“Don't need to use that kinda language.” Muttered Derky, a little disappointed. Placing a hoof under his chin, the Pegasus pondered aloud for a moment. “Aha!”

The lightbulb that flickered into life above his mop of ginger hair was an indication that an idea had lent itself to him. Trying on a smarmy smile that only Weatherstorm could truly pull off without looking the creep that Derky did now, the removal worker guided his hoof over Candi’s back until it rested atop her head. His hoof slowly, nonchalantly, manoeuvred its way across the back of her neck, brushing aside her long locks of mane, and suddenly wrapped around her beige neck. Derky expected a chicken-like squawk to emanate from her tightly pressed lips, but no such sound was made. The Pegasus held the mare in a soft headlock, applying little pressure and not needing to, for there was little resistance, and grappled her horn with his free hoof, gripping to the appendage tightly. With the utmost care, he tilted the unicorn’s head downwards, and aimed Candi's horn at the bottle which Zecora held as far away from her cringing face as she could. He gave the horn a quick squeeze...

...and nothing happened. Derky frowned, and tried again. Nothing. The bottle sat as immobile as an inanimate object could possibly sit, and he felt the fool. “Huh,” he grunted, still holding the horn aloft. “I actually thought that would work.”

“You cannot hope to operate a unicorn’s horn by force.

The only one who can utilize their magic is the unicorn horse.”

Derky Bells ‘pshaw’ quietly. “I’m sure I can get this to work.” He squeezed the horn again, and again, expecting a burst of magic to spew forth from the tip. His brow furrowed itself into his bottom lip when no such occurrence occurred. The lightbulb, so full of vigorous light but moments earlier, was growing dim. The stallion tapped the horn gently. He blew on the tip of the horn. He rubbed it thoroughly with a sack produced from Zecora’s bag, on the off-chance that some grime or pixie-dust or cobwebs had accumulated around it from prolonged negligence and lack of use by the owner, and tried again.

Still nothing.

“Maybe it requires some sort of magic word...?” He turned to Zecora for guidance. The zebra shook her head.

“We cannot hope to progress,

Until Cananor’s mental health has been returned.

Only she can control her magic,

And...”

“UP!” Cried Derky, almost drowning out Zecora’s speech at once. “Up!” He spoke clearly and deliberately, staring intently at the bottle as though that would somehow factor into helping the situation. It did not. “Up!”

Perhaps if he tried wiggling the horn...? He gave the notion but nary a second thought, and rotated the horn, and the head it was attached to, in a small, slow circle, which produced no effect. Then he shook the horn furiously.

“Up, up,” he muttered, shifting the mare’s head to and fro. “Down, down, left, right.” He repeated the last action again for good measure, shaking her hair wildly along her face. “Left, right, uh... B A?”

“Would you stop,” Candi chirped in once the assault had been acted out, “Shaking my horn around like it's an arcade cabinet joystick? There's no player two in this game.”

Rather than complying with the instructions, Derky applied both his forelegs around the mare’s body. “Candi!” cried he, much to the joy of the unicorn in question. “You’re not a mental vegetable anymore!”

“I was never a vegetable,” was the retort. “I like to think of myself more of a fruit, if anything. Thanks for violently shaking my head around. It felt as though you were going to rip it off my neck.”

Derky apologised, and obeyed Candi’s request of ‘Letting her out of that insufferable headlock,’ for she ‘couldn’t breathe or anything.’ “I thought that silly old plant had broken you, and you’d be a still mute forever, and that your brain had been EXPLODED into a million pieces.”

“Nah, wasn't as dramatic as that. I was just having a little think.” She craned her neck, twisting it one way, and then the other. It creaked like an old barn door. "Gotta get the brain juices flowing every now and again."

“It must have been a very deep think, because you didn’t say a word for, uh,” despite his lack of fingers or toes, Derky counted off the hours on his hoof. He gave up somewhere around 17. “Hours!”

“It was a deep think, yeah,” confirmed Candi. The clouds parted, just a little, and with both the moon shining in such a way that it cast its glow under her chin, and the light from the sparking fires of the lava pits heating her cheeks with a fiery radiance, the scene played out unintentionally dramatic as she ushered Derky over to the cliffside with a gentle hoof on his back. They stood on the rim of the universe, and peered down. “A very deep think. I began to think about a lot, actually. A scary experience like being eaten by a plant will do that to you.”

Derky struck a confused face. “You’ve had a lot of scary experseensees," he butchered the pronunciation, "in the last few days...”

“Nights...”

“...Nights. All of us have."

"Yeah, well, as I flopped around uselessly in the mouth of a living plant, slowly being digested in citric sap, I had a lot of time to think. More time than I did when facing a Cockatrice, or a Manticore, or a pack of Timberwolves or even falling off of a cliff. Those instances didn't give me time to think, just act, you get where I'm coming from? But in the case of death by overgrown daffodil, there was nothing I could do to prevent it, so I guess I accepted my fate and thought about how I might do some stuff better, if I somehow got away.

“And you did!” Interrupted Derky. “Don’t forget that part.”

Candi laughed. “I'm sure as heck not gonna forget that part, man. But even after my rescue, the whole incident left me shaken. Sorry for not speaking much, but I was trapped in my own little thought bubble for a bit. I began to think, ‘Boy, I’ve been a bit of a pain sometimes since we left Ponyville. Not quite on Belove’s level of jerkishness, but still.’ And for that, not exactly always being a team player, I guess I’m sorry. And if we get through this whole mess in one piece, there’s a lot more I want to change. I’m going to be nicer to my aunt. And my mom. I’m going to write a Phoenix Flight fanfiction. I’m going to give my dad, the old fool, the biggest old hug and tell him I love him, and I darned well better hear those words back. I’m...” She roared like a lion, so loudly it rattled Derky’s bones, confidence rising. “I’M GOING TO BECOME A PART TIME STAND UP COMEDIAN, BECAUSE I WANT TO, AND GET BACK IN CONTACT WITH MY LAW SCHOOL BUDDIES, BECAUSE WHY NOT? I’M GOING TO WIN A GOSH-DARNED COURT CASE AND START MAKING MONEY! I’M GOING TO LOVE LIFE TO ITS FULLEST, BECAUSE I’VE SPENT TOO LONG FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF! AND I’M GOING TO RESTORE THE SUN TO EQUESTRIA, AND SAVE THE PRINCESS” She rose to a crescendo and pumped her hoof into the air, fisting through the clouds above, and offered her dreams and aspirations to the night sky. “NOW LET’S GO,” she bellowed in a speech befitting her fictional griffon pal, “AND GET OUR FIRE IN A BOTTLE! I’M READY TO KICK SOME DRAGON BUTT!” She was sure that Phoenix Flight was looking down on her and smiling, wherever he was.

“Yeah!” Derky cheered in unison. His voice never changed, monotone and reticent. “I’m so pumped right now!”

The duo gave a high-hoof, whooped, and turned, ready to give the aforementioned slumbering dragon’s keister a bit of a thrashing. And in that sense, they meant waiting until the beast exhaled in its sleep, bottle some of that sweet, sweet fire, and hurriedly be on their way.

They turned, and literally came eyeball to eyeball to the dragon, and it appeared that if any flanks were to be served upon a silver platter, it would be theirs. Big and ballsy and scarred with green, glistening scales that shimmered in the rain, the dragon snorted and blew two hot steamy streams of smoke upon the duo that ruffled their fur and drew back their hair, and felt powerful enough to rip the skin from their skeletons. It didn’t look at all happy for two reasons: firstly, the whooping and hollering made by the insensitive, miniscule little ponies below it may have been loud enough to disturb its peaceful slumber, and it really was hoping to remain in a state of hibernation until the rest of its comrades arrived during the great dragon migration a few months from now. Secondly, it may or may not have overheard their plans regarding firebreath theft, fire which, by all rights, belonged to it, not these two pathetic equines. Thirdly, it didn't appreciate ponies talking about its backside in such a manner. All in all, pleased is not an adjective that would be attributed to this particular dragon at that particular moment.

“Huh.” Candi gulped and tried her best to disguise her shuddering, which was hard with all the noise of her chattering teeth. “Aw dude, that’s not funny. If it makes any difference, I want to take back my previous statement. It did drag on a little too much.”

“Nice one.” said Derky, who did not allow the pun to fly over his head. He wasn’t frightened, not at all. “I'm not scared; Zecora saved us from that plant, and you from those Timberwolves you were talking about. She can handle this dragon, right Zeco...”

The name caught in his throat, because Zecora was already halfway down the mountain, fleeing for her life, leaving only dust in her wake.

Derky turned back to the dragon. “Excuse me, Mr Dragon,” he explained, “While my friend and I think up a plan. Candiiiii...”

The name exploded from his vocal chords like a beastly grumble, as he saw Candi tripping and tumbling down the mountain in pursuit of her striped sherpa, closing the gap between the zebra and herself. Derky thought it high time he jumped on the 'fleeing' bandwagon and followed the recent trend.

The dragon advanced another step, and then two more, arcing low like a true predator. Its thick, curved claws clicked and scraped along the cracked stone landscape like chalk on a blackboard. Malice in its eyes, it threw back its head as far as it could and bellowed out a fearsome rally cry with a gravelly voice like a broken trumpet. It had an immediate effect, and for a few moments, the whole world was still and silent but for that ghastly, strangled cry of rage. The dragons which swooped and sailed against the ocean backdrop, wet scales sparkling in the moon as vividly as the stars, became as still as statues mid-air, and their heads swivelled around to the cries of their comrade. And then there was a flurry of motion the likes of which Derky had never seen (he had no idea that dragons could move THAT quickly) for when his eyelids peeled away from his millisecond long blink, they were all there; thirteen dragons staring down at the little brownish blob below them. They were all different shapes, and sizes: with emerald greens and silvery sapphire blues and such deep, ruby reds. Their spines that ran the length of their heaving backs looked perilously sharp, and their clenched teeth spelled out vengeance.

But Derky didn’t feel scared, not at all. He was purely in awe.

“You’re very beautiful.” He giggled bashfully to the crowd.

“WHAAAAAAATTTTT?” The first, and biggest, dragon screeched. He seemed to be the leader, if such a thing existed in dragon society. It didn’t look pleased with the latest remark of this silly little stallion. It blinked away the last of its slumber, and growled furiously.

“Whoa,” Derky gave them a nervous smile and threw up his hooves in defence. “Listen, Mr dragon...”

“It’s pronounced, 'DRAGOON'!” Bellowed the beast, cracking its neck violently. “Say it with me: DragOON!”

“Whatever you say, Mr dragon,” the Pegasus once again murdered the pronunciation of Mr Dragoon’s last name. “I didn’t mean you were, you know... ATTRACTIVE or anything like that.”

One member of the world’s most intimidating family barged her way to the front of the angry wyrm crowd. Her hair-spines were still in rollers, and her thick pinkish lipstick applied heavily and in a hurried manner. She pouted with about much sass as a bass fish. “Are you,” she wiggled her front leg in front of the equine’s face and snapped her claws a few times for effect, “Saying my husband is UGLY, then?”

“Mrs dragon, please, I said no such thing. He’s handsome.” Derky was growing more and more disenchanted by the minute, and he wasn’t one to stereotype, but he was starting to think that dragons were a bit rude.

“That’s IT!” Mr Dragoon screamed. He liked to think he was a rather tolerant sort of fellow, and he certainly had no problem with pony kind, but this particular stallion infuriated him for some obscure reason, and he wished for nothing more than to engulf him in flame. “You want my fire, eh?” The little glint of death in the beast’s eyes intensified, likewise for the rest of the dragon crew. They smiled in anticipation. They knew what was coming next.

“THEN COME AND TAKE SOME!”

“Oh, cripes,” were Derky’s famous last words as flaming fury erupted from the dragon’s mouth in an instant, accompanied by a terrifying guttural belch, and the pony’s retreating form was enshrouded in blue-ish fire at once. His shadow sizzled from existence in a heartbeat, and the stream of Tartarus-fire mingled with twelve more, green and orange and red. They kept up a steady flow for a solid 15 seconds, before, content with the assumed outcome, they stopped as quickly as they started.

And a rather sooty Derky stood in the middle of that flame-scarred land, miraculously alive. He only had one eye open, darting furiously. In his scorched hoof he held aloft a vial, and within this transparent vial burned a strange mixture of their combined efforts. Their fire-breath floated around like multi-coloured wisps, and Derky corked the bottle at once to prevent the concoction from willowing off into the night rain.

Mr Dragoon certainly was baffled. He scratched his scaly head in amazement. “Now, how in the world...?”

Derky didn’t stick around to explain. Tossing the undoubtedly hot bottle from one smoking hoof to the other, he tucked the vial safely under his hoof, gave a little salute and a genuine smile, and thanked them. “Thank you for the fire,” he said, before turning and throwing himself off of the side of the volcano.

Thirteen dragons stood in absolute shock. No words could describe the events that had just transpired.

Naturally, Derky landed on his stomach. The slope of the volcano was not at all steep, rather it curved out into a nice, manageable, gentle slope, lined with glowing orange veins, and not at all like the previous mountain he had to climb up to get here. He didn’t turn when he heard the chorus of roars from atop the volcano, nor did he falter at the flapping of 26 waxy wings, nor did he slow his pace when the shrill cry of “GET THAT PONY!” was issued. In fact, as one can imagine, such occurrences only quickened his pace.

Derky passed Candi within seconds, but perhaps that had something to do with his mode of descent: lying flat upon his stomach and hooves stretched in front of his face, in a comically outlandish fashion, like a bobsleigh. Despite her obvious cause for concern, Candi couldn’t help but pull a quizzical expression which just about summed up the whole experience thus far. She was stumbling and tumbling in the rain, which made the slope precariously skiddish, and was in no way suited for hooves to traverse. Derky offered her the most obscure offer:

“GET ON!” He screamed as he flew past her like an Equestrian Games Olympian. At least, Candi thought that is what he said, for he zoomed past with such speed that all she truthfully got was, “BLAGHAGH!” and a face-full of spittle. Still, as odd as it was, she would take the chance. With a hop, a skip and a big old jump, Candi gave a quick prayer to Celestia-knows-what and wished for the best, leaping from the rock-face and, with more accuracy than she had believed possible, landed perfectly on her friend’s back, prompting a quick raspberry as a reaction. And then they were off.

Sure, Candi was fleeing for her life, but the entire situation was so laughable and ridiculous that she simply couldn’t hold in a little giggle. There she was, literally sitting on her companion, riding him down an ash-strewn volcanic mountain with a gang of dragons in pursuit. Such a scenario could not be imagined by any comedic mind, no matter how psychotic and unhinged that mind may be.

“I think I’m beginning to live a little TOO adventurously!” She cheered as they slid along a flat surfaced rock and caught some serious air time, narrowly missing the explosion of flames that burst along the path they had been on just moments before. The night sky became thick and heavy with a blanket of shadows, and the wind was jostled with the wings of the bringers-of-the-end. Despite this obvious peril, Candi allowed herself a little ‘Whoop’ as they landed back on the slope with a bump. She sure was having fun, in the most bizarre sort of fashion.

Zecora heard the hollering duo long before she saw them. What she DID see was the dark skyline become ever darker, dragons bursting from every mountainside. The next thing she knew, there was a dull thump as something hit her from behind. Suddenly she was head over hooves and carried along for the trip on Mr. Bell’s wild ride. The zebra, spluttering out a thread of her own Mohican, managed to regain her posture using Derky’s tail as leverage and grimaced when she saw the steadily approaching Everfree forest below them. They were leading those fire-breathing freaks straight into the woods, and she could only imagine the entire forest reduced to nothing but smouldering kindling before the night was out. Candi’s concerns were more focused on the steadily approaching belt of trees, specifically the thick trunks of said trees; as in, specifically the thick trunks that their little makeshift bobsleigh, and by extension the two passengers, were about to come crashing into. She gulped, swallowed her cheer, and estimated how badly this would hurt.

The only pony who seemed rather unperturbed was Derky.

Derky was happy, because Derky had seen the dragons.