They moved swiftly and silently.

There was a strong air of solid, unbreakable determination about the four little ponies as they hurried through the claustrophobic dark of the undergrowth. All mouths were closed, faces straight, eyes unblinking and focused. Grim visages, the stallions were not, not quite, rather, a steady optimism surrounded them like a steadfast shield, hanging on an unspoken word of hope and true grit.

For too long had they faffed and frolicked about the forest in their own inane, superficial bubbles, half-hearted realities that concerned only their base hopes and fears and goals. For too long had they been petty and awkward, so much so that they had failed to see just how destructive their paths were becoming, not only to themselves, but to the millions of ponies counting on them. And for far too long had they idiotically bickered and stumbled and blathered through what was one of the most devastating events to rock the Equestrian world, and they needed to start treating the situation with a modicum of decorum and seriousness, and start looking at the bigger picture.

It was time for these four stallions to wake up and come to terms with the real task at hoof.

And so, that it what they took a silent swear, an unsaid oath, to do. The recent capture of their comrade Belove had finally put the everything-or-nothing aspect of their quest into perspective, settled the wavering spotlight into the correct position and the once dark stage was brighter than ever. Their silliness and fickleness, all to blame, had caused one of their own to suffer, and they could let their actions (or lack thereof) stand idly by for no longer. You don’t mess with one of our friends, they would say. By Celestia, we won’t let that stand. Game faces were applied. It was time to stop Nightmare Moon, once and for all.

And so they shut up, decided to let the foolishness take a backseat, and go about saving the world.

That was assuming, naturally, that they could easily read Zecora’s hastily scrawled map. And, from the fact that they’d been slumping through the indistinct bushes and shrubbery for over 20 minutes since they’d left the safety of her hut, they could not, which didn’t hesitate to put a slight dampener on their newly forged, getting-it-done identities, and one might suppose that old habits die hard.

Cananor was the first to voice his discontent, and just like that, the illusion of competence was broken beyond repair.

“So, uh… heya, Starfire, I know we’re supposed to be on our A game from here on out and all that,” The lawyer swore he saw that same bush shaped like Sherclop Bassneigh again, and a sense of familiar dread returned to him, “But you DO actually know where you’re going this time, right?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, thank goodness, man. Really?”

“No.”

This caused a collective uproar. “Deja-Vu, I believe is the correct term… unfortunately.”

“What a buncha schmucks we are. We’ve only been back on the track for twenty minutes and already we’re getting lost."

Weatherstorm ducked under a hanging log, supported at an odd, slouching angle by a canvas of jungle creepers, and caught up to their leader. “How in the world could we have found ourselves to be lost again? Are you absolutely positive that you cannot understand even an inkling of the map, dear Starfire?”

Grunting in annoyance, Starfire came to a sudden stop, and like little, vagabond sheep, his rambling, lost troupe did likewise. “Give me a moment. If we all take a look together, we can surely make SOMETHING out.” With that, he laid the map out on a boulder, using his magic to roll the pristine white page out flat across the rock’s surface. The four stallions huddled close and stared intently at the hoof-drawn map.

“Yeah… I’m not making any of this out. It’s just a jumble of squiggles and lines. Looks more like a big ball of tumbleweed made outta spaghetti or something.”

“Hey Cananor, do you think, uh… maybe… there actually are wild spaghetti balls in Zecora’s homeland?”

“Maybe, but they sure as heck don’t have them here. Believe me, Derky. I had an experience in Appaloosa that I’d sooner forget.”

“Focus, stallions,” Starfire swatted at a falling leaf and scratched at his scalp. “We need to stop getting distracted. Weatherstorm, can you understand any part of this map?”

The Pegasus nudged his way closer to the parchment, squinted his sharp, narrow eyes, and stroked his chin. “Ah, yes, indeed,” he crooned, “Indeed, indeed, indeed. Yes, ah yes, quite.” He turned back to the onlookers. “Well, no. Not at all. I cannot see anything without my glasses. What I DID manage to discover, however, is that it would appear as though Zecora has horrible hoof-writing. I cannot for the life of me decipher a single element of this infernal doodle. And what,” he continued, “Pray tell, does this say? It’s certainly no word that I have ever happened across, and I must remind you all that I happen across many, many words.”

“Eh…” Derky snatched up the map, and held it upside down, “I think it says, ‘Bee Cave,’ uh… something about there being a ‘Hat stain,’ oh… there’s a little drawing of a stick pony, there, see…”

“I think it’s meant to say something about 'Belove' and a 'captain', Derky. But I can’t even begin to imagine what that is a picture of.” Cananor tugged at his collar. “I mean, think about it; I think our fates are in the hooves of a semi-literate zebra who can’t write in Equestrian and has just moved to the area recently. As for as cartography goes, this doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. It's like taking culinary advice from a dish-washer. She's all cryptic symbols and signs. I just wanna know what we're doing, darn it.”

“Why oh why,” groaned the journalist, “Did we not follow the grassy pathway outside of Zecora’s residence? Why must we always traipse through bushes and weeds and horrible, scratchy undergrowth? I cannot help but suppose that we should have followed the pathway instead of throwing ourselves once more onto the beaten track. Time and time again, we have proven that that is not a good idea. I like paths. They’re built for specific reasons, such as leading to places.”

“Because the place that the path leads to is back to Ponyville,” Starfire explained, reclaiming the map with a gentle tug, “If we follow that path, we’ll be back to where we started.”

“Well, at least we’ll be somewhere.”

“Perhaps there's some clues on the back…?” The unicorn flipped the sheet over, only to be met with Zecora’s inventory list. Waste not, want not. He shrugged. “We’re lost, then. Good.”

Naturally, with this latest blow landing squarely on their thinly-worn patiences, the gang’s cool facades fell through and they went about squabbling.

“I simply CANNOT believe you could get us lost once more…”

"I might have an ide-"

“Eh, this ain’t happening, all right? I’m not gonna let myself get dragged along for another one of these wild rides that goes on for, like, 10 chapters.”

"Guys, I might hav-"

“Were I in understanding as to what Cananor is referencing, I would wholeheartedly agree, Starfire. Did you not think it paramount to converse with Zecora, and make crystal clear your knowledge of the map and your ability to read it before setting off, us in tow, for another aimless gallivant…”

Even through the casual verbal jabs cast in his direction, Starfire did not participate. Weatherstorm had a point, there: with his newfound energy, his second wind towards doing the right thing, and his heated departure from their zebra host, he might have been slightly hasty leaving her abode...

“...Then you have no time to waste,

Rescue your friend,

Bring back the sun, and

For the sake of world make haste."

The Zebra shaman opened the front door, which creaked with a gentle purr, and held her hoof out, as though presenting the forest outside to them in a showcase of splendour.

The night’s darkness slunk around the edges of her small garden, obscuring the vast yard of brown trunks beyond, but shied away from the perimeters of her property, kept at bay by the flickering orange lights that punctuated the walls of her hut.

Nodding, Cananor gave her his joyful grin, and flapped his ears. “Right on. We’ll make sure to do just that. Now, by ‘haste’, do you mean…?”

“Yes, Cananor,” Weatherstorm answered quickly before the witch doctor could, “I should imagine that Zecora implies that we ought to leave right now. As in, well, immediately, dare I say.”

“Already? I mean, I thought we were gonna at least have some early breakfast before setting off… most important meal of the day, you know…” He turned to Zecora, optimistically.

“Ought I to count off Zecora’s kindnesses on my hoof, perhaps? We’ve lodged, for free, mind, in her home for quite a number of hours now, and those were several hours too many. No breakfast shall we eat, regardless of how beneficial such a meal may be. Unless our gracious host insists…?”

Zecora said nothing, her hoof still outstretched, her face still full of raw, sombre, iron will.

“Certainly worth a shot, nonetheless.”

Cananor sighed. “No long in prolonging the inevitable, then. We need the sun back, pronto: I’m starting to lose my sweet tan.” The beige unicorn admired his reflection once more in the window of her door. “I know, I know; I can’t boast half as well as Belove. That’s why we need him back, huh?” He slipped through the front door, wiggling sideways past Zecora’s hoof, and then stopped in her garden, turned, and slid a small laminated card into her hoof.

Eyes widening a little more than they ought to have, she silently read over the bold, black letters printed on the ice blue piece of plastic-y cardboard. ‘Cananor Acapella,’ read the card, ‘Attorney At Law. Be it legal representation or just plain fun, Acapella is the one.’ Underneath, as though scrawled in sharpie, was his home address.

“Zecora, you feel free to contact me if you ever find yourself a little south of the law,” The lawyer beamed, “I mean, you’re living out in a secluded hut in the middle of the forest. I won’t judge. Cananor here will make sure you have a winning case. And if I don’t, well heck… paint me pink and ship me to Saddle Arabia! Which would be a benefit, because I’m in a LOT of debt! Oh, turn it over, turn it over!” He flipped the card, and the hoof attached to it, over, and tapped the back of the business card with pride. “Double sided cards. Good to cut costs in this economy. As you can see, I also do parties, so, you know… keep me in mind, yeah?”

The zebra gave him a startling odd, sidewards glance, once up and down, and robotically stuck the contact card in a table drawer.

“If a party I am to host,

And in need to entertain,

Or a court date due I must attend,

I’ll contact you again.”

“That’s all I ask, lady,” He squeezed his eyes together and threw a hoof of appreciation her way, “If you drop me a message, the only court you’ll find yourself in will be the tennis court, because I also do lessons on how to perfect your swing.”

Weatherstorm pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please walk out of the door, if you will, Cananor.”

“Just keeping the smart mare aware of my various services is all.”

“Please walk out of the door, Cananor.”

He did, with one last silent motion of ‘call me,’ and then left. Weatherstorm gave Zecora a serious, impassively formal half bow, pressed his little pouch to his heart, and threw the other hoof illustriously in the air behind him. “It was a pleasure meeting you, ma’am, and I do so hope to see you again in the near future.” He pondered for a moment, before adding, “But of course I shall, for you showered my friends and I with generosity and kindness, and I intend to repay you back tenfold for your efforts.”

Had Zecora been able to speak over the pompous, curtsying stallion, it would have been to remind him that she was not exactly aiding their adventure from the fullest benevolence of her own hospitable heart, rather, she had the wellbeing of a world guiding her gracious actions, but Weatherstorm did so rattle on, and the only individual with the power over words in his presence was he alone.

“Alas, I have little to offer you in regards to material possessions or monetary gain, for our bags and supplies were unjustly taken from us some nights back, but let it be known that when my property is returned, as I do hope, or when I am next at my house in Ponyville, that I shall find an item of value or substantial use or somesuch and gift it to you.” In the meantime, however,” He rummaged in some unknown place, and brought forth a handkerchief before his host, a soft and silken drape of material spotted with a dark substance, likely cider, and embroidered with the letter ‘Z’. It looked all too familiar to Zecora. “I shall, until such a time that I can repay you, leave you with this token of my appreciation.”

“Isn’t that, um… Zecora’s handkerchief anyway, Weatherstorm?” Derky cheeped tenderly, “I mean, we did find it here and all…”

“Well, yes, quite. I am merely returning her property to her, as it were. But it is the thought that counts, yes? A sign of friendship and respect, no?” He also gifted her his patented sensible grin, the sort that you’d really rather keep the receipt of, “That is, as stated, until I can find something suitable of my own with which to settle the debt.”

“I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you twice,

I need no benefaction, just cease the night.”

“I think, maybe, you should just agree with him,” Whispered Derkington into Zecora’s ear, “Because he doesn’t like it very much when he can’t repay ponies for things. It gives him migrates, uh... headaches, I mean. I think it might be some sorta medical problem. ” There must have been some truth to that statement, for the journalist stood half in and half out of the front door, nodding his head to and fro subconsciously and rubbing his hooves together with twitching trepidation.

Shrugging, the zebra agreed, and set her handkerchief in the drawer beside Cananor’s business card.

“Ah, wunderbar, wunderbar!” He took her hoof of his own accord and shook it once, softly and delicately, “Es ist vereinbart! Tausend dank, Madame! Truly, truly, I eagerly await our next encounter, when I can properly reimburse you, and you have my word as a gentlecolt on that.” He backed out of the door with a quick, heart salute, “Until then, my good friend!”

Derky laughed, the gentle sound like a fleeting whisper. “He’s super happy now. I know he’ll spend the next few days planning some big scheme on how he’s going to pay you back. He won’t be able to sleep. I know him very well.” The Pegasus stared at his zebra friend for a good few moments, with still green emerald eyes of rolling plains, and then delicately lay both his hooves around her and embraced her genuinely. “Thanks, Zecora,” he patted her back and swished his tail, “It was nice to see your house. I really like your cauldron. It’s spooky. Please come to Ponyville sometime… if you want. The ponies are really nice. There’s a pony called Daisy and she sells weird things, so you won’t have to find them in the forest any more.” He released Zecora from his grip, and adjusted his shirt. It was caked in dried mud. From the top pocket he pulled out a forest flower and placed it in her hoof. It drooped unattractively, and several petals were missing, but there was a rustic charm about it, beaten and imperfect yet strangely gentle to look at.

“Sorry it doesn’t look good. I got kinda hungry and ate a few petals, but I want you to keep it. Um… I’m not very good with goodbyes, really. I don’t know the words to say.” His adorable eyes sparkled. The zebra smiled at him, that strong smile that was all that was good of the old, foreign world, and placed it along with the other items on the drawer, but in such a way that it took precedence, as beautifully ugly as it was. She wished him luck on his journey and promised to teach him more about the weird and the wonderful, should he call around next time he was in the neighbourhood. This seemed to make him happier than anything. “Bye bye.”

Starfire was the last to leave. He shuffled on his feet and blew a strand from his eyes, before announcing a hard, flat, “Thanks,” to Zecora. “Sorry if I’m curt. But you’re right. We need to go. Now.” He made effort to leave.

“It would be wise, I think you’d agree,

If you were to take a moment and consult Belove’s position with me.”

The student reddened a little. “Ah, yeah. That would help.” His next question was bold. “Come with us, Zecora. Help us. Your expertise is invaluable.”

She sighed. For all her lustre, she had an exhaustible agedness about her that surfaced, however briefly, should one look closely enough.
“I have great faith in your selfless quest,
But you must go alone, and I must rest.”

Disappointed but not visibly so, Starfre shrugged. Zecora was a useful means to an end, but he was far from cruel, and understood at once her fatigue. Amidst the hypnotising, tribal swirls in her eyes were wispy ghosts of sleep deprivation. He had known the feeling well these past few nights, but he had, at least, managed to catch a few hours of down time over the last few hours. Zecora had not. She was running on fumes. He had no desire to ask any more of her, not in this state. “I get it. I can only assume that Belove is being kept not far from here?”

She quickly took a sheet and quill and scrawled on it with a series of markings and lines, deftly and deliberately, then rolled it along the counter as though kneading bread. She passed him the newly forged map.

“Although I cannot help set him free, that much is true,

I give this map of his whereabouts, from me to you.”

From one wannabe scientist to another, a murmuring of appreciation was shared. But Zecora directly stopped him before he left, with a robust hoof squarely on the shoulder, and when he turned to face her, she gave him a deep, inquisitive stare, but most unlike her usual glares. There was not just tiredness but hesitation in her features, an unsureness or uneasiness that she herself must have been all too aware of, but made no attempt to mask.

“There is one more matter that I want to discuss…”

Starfire sucked on his lower lip. For every second he continued to take up residence in his host’s hut, the chances of safely finding Belove unharmed narrowed, and, more importantly to the grand scheme, Nightmare Moon would likely grow in power, and the ponies back in civilization more unstable. But he was not some fiery-headed doer, but a scholar and a thinker, and so he heard her out, howsoever urgent they may be. “Go on.”

“…about your recent premonition business.”

With an audible ‘pshaw’ and a twitch of the nose, the unicorn bit his cheek. “You’re intelligent, Zecora. You know so much about the natural world that ponies do not and I, too, hope to one day be your equal. But you believe in things that a scientist should not. Aspects of your culture can be appreciated but not taken as fact. I have had no premonitions. There is no such thing. I have had bad dreams. That is fact.”

The zebra smiled at his matter-of-factly outburst. A knowing smile. She was so very glad that he did not apologise for it.

“What is fact and what is not,

You cannot even begin to know.

To dismiss the unknown as folly IS folly

But do not take my say-so.”

He kept his tongue this time. Zecora hailed from a culture most unlike theirs; to argue would be to disrespect, and to disrespect such a valuable ally would be uncivil madness. Let her impart her own views, then, as distant and unfounded as they may be. He’d listen, he respected her that much. Old pony’s tales were coming true left and right: could the cryptic mumbo-jumbo of a soothsayer really be so outside of the realm of possibility anymore?

“I see you chose to listen close,

And thank you for the open mind.

Your slumbering premonitions are not haunting you alone,

But the rest of your gentle kind.”

“What are you saying? That I’m not the only pony who has had these dreams? These apparent premonitions?”

How wonderfully coy the zebra could look sometimes, regardless of her wobbling fatigue.

“Bad dreams have plagued your friends,

They appeared to slumber restlessly last night.

But their visions were mild and to simpler ends,

They seem to lack your second sight.”

From the corner of his eye, Starfire glanced at his companions, energetically bustling about Zecora’s porch. They waved him on, all grins and grit. So, they too, according to this makeshift doctor, had been sharing in his nightmares? Why had they not said so? How could they appear, to all intents and purposes, so well rested? “My friends too? They’ve had the same dreams?” It wasn’t all that unlikely. With the peril they had been living in the shadow of these past few days, it was only natural that one or two should replay the recent events, brimming with fear and unknowing, within their unconscious thought. “Of shadows and burning green? You are sure?”

“Derkington told me of his dreams,

Dark and obscure, such black veiled things.

The others, too, have surely seen

Your shadows and cities of burning green.”

“I would have thought they’d have said something to me.”

“Yes, yes, just as, then,

You explained your dreams to them?”

She let the unicorn think on that for a moment, before adding,

“His vision, he said, was hazy,

Uninformative, distant, bleak.

Not at all as vivid as your phantasm…”

His inquisitiveness returned. “Then why? Why could I alone see every creeping shadow? Smell the smoke? There are ponies in that garden that are twice as fanciful as me. I’m not one for silliness and conspiracy. How should I,” He probed his chest, “Suffer the worst nightmares? The most vivid, detailed dreams?”

“…Starfire, you suffer most because you’re weak.”

And Starfire was taken aback. The laced insult came from some faraway place, so close, always on the tip of her tongue. The zebra didn’t look at all sorry for it. She didn’t relish it. It simply was. The unicorn had fairly sharp hearing; he rarely had to ask others to repeat themselves. But instincts, or some long forgotten, half huddled pride caught took control.

“What?” He didn’t need her to repeat herself, of course. He pressed his ears flat. “I’m having bad dreams because I’m WEAK? Zecora, I KNOW there are ponies stronger than myself. Far stronger. I am not strong. But I do not have a child’s mind. I thought you could see that. I guess that I was wrong.”

And yet, she reaffirmed her opinion, as though it were universal fact.

“Do not mistake my words for sneer,

I’ll explain, should you be willing to hear.

Your premonitions are not under your control,

Neither conscious nor unconscious mind has conjured vision.

There are other forces at work, I fear,

A dark and powerful foe arisen.”

And yet, try as he might to understand and dissect possibilities, her pseudo-scientific approach, coupled with the unapologetic, unwarranted and yet-to-be-explained insult had hit a nerve, and he wished to listen no further. She took him for some sort of fool. Let her mock his body, so be it, but not his mind.

“And yet you continue to think this superstition.”

"Mmmm."

"Some great terrible beast, some evil eager being,

Is behind, I'm sure, your recent gift of seeing.

I suspect it perceives you as a threat to some goal,

And keeps you tired with haunting memories,

From when you were a foal."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Your guilty mind makes you less immune,

To whatever dark magic reigns.

A clever plan, I should assume,

To pacify your smarts and brains."

"Sure, sure."

Zecora watched him begin to jiggle one of her loose drawer handles. She knew her words were falling on over-educated, deceptively proud ears, but better that than her say nothing at all. What a sour foal he could be when his intelligence was questioned. He was perfect.

"Think whatever you so wish, then,

I do not concern myself with narrow-mindedness.

I had thought you a pony of learning and possibility,

I now see that was too great a kindness."

"Oh, no, Zecora," The stallion protested, his native, serious tone raising an octave, "It's an interesting theory. Nightmare Moon was once the princess of the night. The princess of sleep. So they say. It makes sense. She sees us guys as a threat to whatever plan she is hatching. Doesn't want us catching up with her. So she gives us bad dreams. Keep us tired. Keep us easy. That makes sense, Zecora. I get it. It's a good, conclusive arguement. It has evidence to back it up." He took a breath, and jiggled the loose knob harder. "Know what doesn't? All this silliness about destiny, and visions, and premonitions. Are you telling me that you'd take a gamble on a dream? You'd make a decision on something you'd seen in your sleep? That'd you'd think it REAL?" He tugged the drawer handle so hard, that it came off in his hoof, and fell to the floor with a clatter. "You want me to stake the wellbeing of a nation on a dream? You? A scientist? Fine, I thought. Nonsense has been coming true left and right these last few days. But then you insult me? ME? Call me weak-minded? Imply I'm stupid for not blindly following your unfounded word? Pshaw!"

The zebra seemed elated at his anger. Holding back a smile, her eyes drew to the broken handle, then back to the tall, silent form, all gold and sky and fire.

"If no further wisdom you wish to receive,

Then you're free to go. You may leave."

He did just that. She heard a distant thanks, and there was heart in it, but heat, too. Starfire gathered up the rest of the ponies in the garden, and they were off. Gentle Derky turned once more to give a wave, but the darkness that hung over them obscured his efforts, and then they were gone. She stood at the door, and saw a flicker of light carry off into the distance, a bubble of blue, like a star in the sky, and it reassured her of both the best and worst of that particular unicorn.

Starfire could do something great in this world, if he wanted, she thought. If he tried. If he realized. Such raw anger, such emotional rage, untapped, hidden under the cool, calm exterior of a simple, plain old student... he could be one of the greatest heroes this land had ever seen, or one of it's most vile adversaries. It all remained to be seen. But he had to let go. He had to learn control.

She had confidence that he'd learn to accept and use his greatest strengths, some day. Some day soon. Her short time spent teaching him had come to an end, and she would do no more. Ponies have to learn such things for themselves. Some day he'd listen. Some day he'd be what he was, is, always will be. But for now, he had an obstacle to overcome, and a world to save. Not bad training, all in all.

Zecora smiled. She'd have to keep her eye on this one.

He was, after all, gifted.

The door closed shut, and only the flicker of light remained.

"...then perhaps we might not be in this ridiculous, worn-out predicament."

"Finished, Weatherstorm?" Starfire grumbled, crumpling up the useless map in his hoof and tossing it at the nearest tree. His expression was one of irritability.

"Oh, not even close, chummy, because I just KNOW how this is going to pan out. You see..."

Derky tried to interject, "Guys, seriously, I think I kn-"

"...We're going to spend some considerable time squabbling about whose-fault-was-what until, alas, we all decide to go our separate ways in a bout of madness..."

"For real, you guys, honestly, just let me try s-"

"One moment, Derky, let me vent my frustration. As I was saying, we'll all saunter off in all sorts of different directions, and the next thing you know..."

"...we'll be spending another 10 chapters walking around and going nowhere, we get it. You don't need to go on."

"What does that MEAN, Cananor? WHAT chapters? This is real life, not one of your comic books, don't you know..."

"You and Cananor took too long leaving. If you hadn't, I would have had more time to ask Zecora about directions."

"Whoa, hey, don't go blaming me, dude. We all heard you arguing with her, ya'know. If somepony talked to me like that in my own house, I'd 'a drawn a shoddy map, too."

"Guyyyyyyyyysssssssss..." Upon seeing that his friends were not abandoning their plan of continued squabbling, the caramel Pegasus groaned softly, scratched his chin, finally shrugged, and then collapsed to the ground.

This caught their attention, if nothing else. At once, the three rising voices ceased, and the ponies turned and stared at the immobile stallion at their hooves. "Hey, eh, Derky," Cananor asked, reeling his head back. "You all right there, buddy?"

Derky said nothing. He simply lay on amongst the leaf litter and fallen tree bark, flank poised, head to the ground and twisted to the side, his strained shirt splayed under him like a blanket.

"Yo, Derky," Cananor repeated, to no response. "Is this a thing we're doing now?"

"He looks like a fur rug," Weatherstorm quipped, with a flick of his hair, "Or some manner of lumpy, discoloured throw."

Eyeing him with a lopsided squint, Cananor began to lower himself down beside his friend. "Hold on...I wanna see if he's onto something here."

Starfire pouted and pulled him back to his hooves. "Jungle madness," he stated, confidently, pointing to the silent Derky, "That's what it is. He's lost morale. I'm telling you, I've read about this." He reached toward him to do the same, but was slapped away.

"I'm not crazy," The Pegasus disaffirmed the conclusion, much to the mumbled disagreement of his friends. He pressed his head further towards the ground, leaving a soft imprint in the muck below, and pushed his rump a little higher, up to Weatherstorm's eye level, who turned in disgust. "I'm gonna try real good to see if I can hear Belove."

"If you can hear Belove right now, then I advise you to see a psychiatrist, dear friend."

"Yeah, don't listen to the Belove voices in your head, Derky! Don't listen to their lies! Imagine what a curse that would be. What, uh... makes you think he's under the ground, anyway?"

He scootched up onto his hocks and knees, and unfurled his wings with a yawn. Goodness gracious, his friends could be clueless at times. "He's not underground, silly. If you put, erm, your ear to the ground, like this, you can sometimes hear really far away things... really up close. Not far away."

"Eloquently put."

"No. He may be on to something." Starfire pawed the ground with his hoof, and drew away the smattering of loves, clearing a small circle of solid, stiff dirt. "The topsoil is dry and hard. I'm not a physicist. But any scientist worth their weight in salt knows that sound and vibrations travel better through something solid than through air particles. It could help us listen out for any movement, give us a general direction."

Cananor clapped. "Well, hey, Derks, seems like you're on something, here, and I don't just mean your stomach! Where'd you learn how to do this?"

"Belove," he replied, with a mouth full of leaf litter, "He says it's an old earth pony trick, like how to know where animals and stuff are, and, uh... grass and stuff like that."

"It helps you find grass," Weatherstorm rolled his eyes as he drolly summarized. Cananor laughed at some unsaid joke, and muttered, 'Grass. Of course Belove would know something like this.' Weatherstorm continued, "Did you hear that, chaps? Sticking our ears in the ground apparently helps us locate grass. Am I the only one who finds this to be insane?"

"No. Like, uh... plants and stuff. Belove said that every living thing, even plants, has some sorta..." He struggled to find a suitable word from his humble dictionary. "...I don't know. But you can hear them if you listen real well and good. He showed me way back when I wanted to hunt down a wild vampirest... er, vampiric jackalope as a pet."

"I should imagine that the question on everypony's lips is, did this technique work? Did you, pray tell, find one?" The journalist sounded optimistic, hopeful.

"Well, no." Derky blushed. He readjusted his position, tapped the earth once, twice, and then scraped his ear along the ground. "I don't think Belove showed me how to do it properly. He kept saying that if his head fully touched the dirt, ants and bugs would crawl into his ear. All I found was half a packet of gummy worms and an old boot. Or maybe I didn't listen to his teachings good."

Cananor spoke up. "Hey Starfire, it sounds sorta like that tracing spell you performed. But, you know, tracing nature, instead of tracing magic." The budding biologist agreed, but made sure to humbly stress that what he himself had performed was complex and attuned to higher scientific learning, not some survivalist trait. Yet it sparked an interest within him, knowing how things truly work. Earth pony 'magic' was so theoretical and wild and undocumented and foreign still to unicorns. He mentally made sure to ask Belove what other tricks the soldier knew of upon their reunition.

"I... I can hear hoofbeats. Thumping. Yeah, I can hear 'em, real well."

The others huddled on him and offered their compliments. "Where are they coming from? Do you think you could follow them?"

"Uh... I don't know. They seem to be coming from, er... right beside me. Thump. Thump. Thump."

"Okay. That'll be your heartbeat that you're hearing, Derky."

"Drat." The grounded Derky grunted meekly, and arose, dusting himself off, a process that only managed to smear more dried muck and errant leaves down his already filthy chest. He flapped his ear, as though trying to dislodge some obscured irritant, and with a flick, out came a small, chipped piece of wood bark. "I can't do it, guys. I tried. I really did."

"Let me try, then." The blue unicorn began. He held back his mane as he himself drew to the woodland floor. "Cananor is right. I see no reason why this should be in any way more complicated than the spell I performed. I understand the principle. Stand aside."

And so he, brimming with his unique way of uninitiated learnedness that only a college graduate can muster, straightened out his ear and lay it upon the ground in a similar manner to that which Derky had been performing. And listened.

What he didn't expect, however, was for his head to be rather suddenly violently pushed, nay, rammed at quite a considerable force from behind. Taken by surprise, the horned horse opened his mouth in shock, crumbling dirt exploding into his vulnerable, gaping O of a piehole. He shakily lifted himself and, face dripping with crumbling soil, turned to a chorus of laughter.

"Ayyyyyyy, savage!" The lawyer wiped away tears, bringing his own foreleg back down. He straightened his tie under a wobbling chin.

"Heiliger Strohsack! Well, I do say, Cananor, that was indeed savage! You planted his face so firmly into the ground that he was more akin to an ostrich than an equine!"

Even well-meaning Derky couldn't hold back his laughter. "That was a really silly joke, Cananor... but it was pretty savage. The good kinda savage, I mean."

“Disgusting!” The trainee teacher didn’t at all look pleased. He raked his tongue. “Why? Why do that?”

“Pranked you good, didn’t I!” Was the given response, amidst another whooping chorus confirming, indeed, how apparently ‘savage’ Cananor’s comical move was. “Now that’s what ya get for getting us lost again, there, Starfire.”

The physical jape didn’t sit well with the victim. The blue unicorn’s cheeks blushed, then reddened, quickly darkening, under flickering and beady eyes, and a twisting scowl. “You think that is FUNNY? Doing something like that? Am I the only one taking ANY of this seriously? Don’t you know the STAKES?”

And the other unicorn defaulted to defence mode. “Whoa, whoa, hey now, it was just a joke. Sizzle down, Starry.”

The journalist chirped in. “You can’t say that you didn’t deserve it, not even a smidgen, old chap. I cannot deny that asking you, smirking all the while, to ‘take it on the chin’ would be wildly appropriate right now.”

Their mocking cut a little deeper than he would have liked. How dearly he wished to exude a level of capability that was so high of qualification in a leader, a role they all direly needed, and if Belove was no longer there to provide such a role, by heavens, then it fell on him. But they questioned his knowledge, his smarts, taunted them even when he tried to put them to use, reduced him to base silliness, and he didn’t appreciate it one bit.

It was like flicking a switch. Simple as. There was no fuss or unnecessary drama. With a stern brow and angry eyes, Starfire put one definite hoof forward, then clutched at his head, stumbled backwards, and found himself suddenly sprawled along the forest floor for a second time, this time on his back, slumped along the tree log, his ever serious face replaced with one a tad more comically unknowing. The others, too, teetered, blinded for a moment, their fur blown back.

“Ooooh… we should help him up… there we go… onto all fours, nicely…” Derky dusted the unicorn’s now equally dirty back with a sweep of his wing. “Are you alrighty?”

Starfire coughingly responded, calmer than he just was, and rubbed at his horn. The pure, intense white light that had, for one blinding moment, replaced his usual soothing blue, coughed along with him, gleamed along the tip and then popped. He involuntarily shivered.

“Dang’n, jeez…” His voice slipped into something more native, before recovering. “That was a shock.” The grass around him was blackened ever so slightly, as though licked by flame.

Cananor eyed the starry Star’s eyes, starry-eyed. “Your horn glowed white for a second when you fell, Starfire… and there was a bright light... what was that all about? I mean, it was almost like when…”

“…I performed the magic-tracing spell. Yes. I thought so too. Which only lasts, as far as I can remember, a few hours, tops. Something like that, anyway.” He placed both hooves on the growth on his head, which was rapidly cooling, having been burning hot but a moment earlier. “It was the hardest spell I’ve ever attempted. There are special conditions. Took almost a day of preparation.” Cananor nodded to that. Any more time spent meditating in silence might have killed him stone dead. “Even then it almost went horribly wrong. I wouldn’t dare attempt that spell again. Especially not whilst fatigued. This doesn’t make sense. I couldn’t have just performed that spell again. Not without trying to. I couldn't have.”

"Well, did you pick up on any traces of magic? Did you find out where Nightmare Moon is? It would be a good start."

"No, no. All I felt was a blip. A quick surge. Nothing else. Too brief."

Weatherstorm cozied close. “Can’t you unicorns retain magic in your horn, my friend? Was what you just experienced, perhaps, but some manner of stored, magical residue? A leftover imprint, like the drip of a tap, or the flicker of a candle extinguished?”

The amateur wizard crumpled his features. He gave a stark, “What? That’s not how magic works at all. Imagine if you, or any other pegasus, could just magically resume mid-flight half an hour after landing. Just as you would need to take off again, I would have needed to recast the spell. We can’t keep magic charged up for use for extended periods of time. Nopony could for that long. Doing so would require intense unparalleled concentration that just isn’t possible. I didn’t think about casting anything. Besides, my horn was absent until an hour ago. I’m telling you, there’s no feasible way that I could have replicated that spell for a second without fully intending to. If I tried that spell without using my fullest concentration, I’d fry to a fizzle.”

“And yet you replicated it, but a moment ago, in front of us all, unfizzled. Quite fascinating.” Weatherstorm curiously made an attempt to touch his friend’s now unlit, pale appendage. The student shied away at once. “It would appear as though you must possess a queer ability, Mr Starfire, one most unlike any other unicorn, one undocumented in any tome of learning.”

“Heh, oh-la-la! Buy him dinner, and a movie first, ‘Stormy.”

“Oh, come off of it, Cananor. Honestly. Dear Starfire,” The journalist gave him his interested, ‘This will make for an interesting story’ sort of smiles, the sort of smiles that did, indeed, sell stories, “That story from your childhood, the one you were telling Zecora… from all those years ago… you performed a powerful spell by some accidental chance then, too, am I correct? A complex spell you didn’t even know you could cast? Powerful and terrible and, most importantly, unpremeditated? Extemporaneous?” The student did not respond.

“So… what, you’re saying Starfire has some sort of power or something? I mean, the guy is good at what he does, don’t get me wrong, but you think he’s different? Like, he has some kind of unique gift?”

Cananor’s emerging smile was not undetected by the journalist. “Absolutely, and if you try to shoehorn your ‘Gift horse in the mouth’ pun into one more sentence, I’ll shoe your horn, make no mistake about it, my chum.”

“More like horse-shoehorned, am I right?” He mumbled a reply, seemingly pleased with himself. "Starfire, see if you can do that spell again. You know, accidently. On purpose."

"I can't do stuff accidently on purpose. I didn't have any control over it."

"Then think about doing the spell again."

"If I thought about casting the spell, it wouldn't be accidental. That would just be performing the spell. Which, as you know, requires my every ounce of concentration. I know I won't be able to pull it off twice. You, Cananor, know that I nearly cooked myself last time I even attempted."

"Yeah, you all but cooked yourself from the inside out. And you smelled like burnt toast, for two whole hours. I didn't want to say anything, but, like, I started to gag a little."

"So," Weatherstorm chirpily clapped his hooves. How he loved getting to be bottom of things. "We have established that this has, indeed, happened before, then. If you are certain that you cannot just let loose tricky spells of convenience on a whim, absent of mind, then there must be some manner of requirement to spark your gift. You must need to find yourself in a particular state of mind. I suppose it lies on us to figure out which precise state of mind that may be. Any pointers, Mr Starfire, would be darling."

The student unicorn earnestly shrugged, took a deep breath, and quickly exhaled. "I'm not sure. It all happens so fast. But... I feel shame in saying..." He bit his lip, "I'm fairly certain..."

"Joy!" Cananor interjected. "That has to be it! Starfire can only do these wicked-cool spells without even meaning to when he's happy!"

"How, do tell us all, did you reach that conclusion, Cananor?"

He pushed his way in-between Weatherstorm and Starfire, and planted both his hooves firmly on the tops of their skulls. "Think about it, guys. How do pranks and jokes and all that make you feel?"

"Depending on the quality of the prank or joke at hoof... humoured, I should suppose," Weatherstorm answered.

"Annoyed," Came the response of Starfire.

Cananor gave a laugh of dismissal. "Heh, good one, Starfire! Always a kidder! See, here's what I think. I pulled a prank on Starfire, yeah? And, I mean, we all found it funny. So, when Starfire here gets really, really happy, or laughs too hard or something, then he must start blasting off these spells unconsciously."

Starfire sighed impatiently, and said nothing. Weatherstorm stared blankly at the grinning wannabe comedian for several seconds, before dryly responding, "By George, Mr Acapella, I do believe you to be some sort of genius. Quick, for the sake of us all, goof off! Make him chortle again, huzzah!"

Cananor was all too happy to oblige. With a hoot and a salute, he sprang into action, pulling from his repertoire the first japes and bouts of silliness that came to mind, forcing an unnatural unspecified accent into his speech. “Horsing around is what I do best. So, Starfire, what do you call a cart with no…”

“Stop it,” He replied, flatly. How he wanted to be rid of this foolishness. “Don’t even start. We have no time for jokes. It’s anger, obviously. That’s the trigger. I get it. I always have.”

“…uh, way to interrupt the comedy flow. Thanks.” The sad clown sat back down and pouted.

Weatherstorm brushed his mane back. “No no, dear Cananor, please, continue with your routine. We must, after all, put Starfire into an uproarious fit of laughter before he can subconsciously perform to his maximum potential.”

Derky rasped a silent interjection. “I don’t know, guys… maybe Starfire is right? I think that, maybe, he only does these spells when he’s really cross about something, and then it just sort of happens, and…” He trailed off.

“Oh, blast it, Derkington. But of course the true trigger emotion that sparks such unbeknown power within our comrade is, as we all suspect, anger.”

“Heh, eh, yeah,” Cananor rubbed the back of his head. “’Course. I knew that. It wasn’t, you know, my comedy that, er, inspired him or anything…” His voice wavered.

“But what finer way to grate on academic Mr. Starfire’s nerves than to act ignorant of the startlingly obvious fact, and then lay him vulnerable to an assault of Cananor’s,” He paused, and looked at the sad lump of a lawyer beside him, “Wondrously knee slapping jokes performed at an ill opportune time? A perfect plan to grind our friend’s gears, unfulfilled, alas.” He continued. “Not that Starfire picked up on our little scheme, anyhow. For one so learned, one so bright, he can be quite dim. At times.” That infernal smile, so changeable, like an angel and a demon all at once.

“I know what you’re doing, Weatherstorm, but it won’t work. I can’t allow myself to fly off the handle again. Who knows what could happen? Stop trying to provoke me.”

“But your angriness-ness might be our only hope, Starfire. Can you make yourself get mad?” Derky asked Starfire, innocently. “Think of something really annoying?”

“I can’t make myself get angry. Not like that anyway. Nor,” He tried to move the party on, but they remained, steadfast. “Do I want to.” He felt a sweat coming on. “I always feel it coming, from deep down. I don’t know how to describe it. But you can’t work me up, even if it could help lead us to Nightmare Moon. I don’t know what I’m doing when I get like that. I have no control. None. I’ll attempt to recast the tracing spell if we have no other choice. It will take time, and untold effort. More than we, I, can afford. But taking a shortcut this reckless, not only to you, but my mental wellbeing, is out of the question. So please, if you w…”

Fump.

"Ayyyyyyy, I'm on a savage-roll!"

"Erbarme dich unser, Cananor, your prank-savagery knows no bounds! Twice in a row, how refreshing! Look! How he writhes like a worm! Mayhaps we could plant him now and see what grows?"

"Ooh, Cananor, you're going to make him super mad... but you sure know how to be savage."

Laughter. Chortling. Fun. No, no, no.

Starfire didn't even attempt to get up from the ground this time, his face having once again been pushed into the leaf litter by a crying Cananor. He should have seen it coming. He did not. He should have laughed it off this time. He did not.

Headache and light and fire, the whole works. The others were a little more prepared, and they clapped when the sprawled unicorn, lying in a small circular radious of tiny, flickering flame, had unwittingly played out his part.

And their clapping trailed off as the unicorn didn’t move. They stood around his body, his muzzle pressed against the cold, hard ground, small fires jumping from his vibrating white horn and onto the orange blades of bending grass, and moved not even to twitch.

Their expressions twisted into something not unlike mild concern.

“I guess I pushed him a little harder than I thought.”

“Well, I think pushed himself a little harder than any of us would have thought.”

All around him, the world was bright and uncomfortable.

Starfire felt bright and uncomfortable, too, so maybe he didn’t feel so out of place in this world.

Groaning in some hybridity of pain and annoyance, he rolled onto his back and saw… himself. The student gasped and scrambled away. Not a reflection, not some mirror counterpart. Himself, in the flesh and the blood, so similarly odd and half forgotten, never forgotten. His young self. Just a child.

So full of youth and spunk. So full of confidence, and zeal, mettle and… self-righteousness?

Starfire, the real Starfire, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the image. The blue unicorn colt seemed unaware of his presence. He didn’t seem aware of anything. The foal’s form was wrapped in orange flame, searing, more intense than anything Starfire had ever seen before. But he had seen it before.

That day, that day, that day. When it all went wrong.

His head pounded as he watched the static clone shutter and flicker, like a jumpy reel in a movie. He clutched at his temples and wiped again and again at his stinging eyes, as fire, twirling like a typhoon, spiralling, spiralling, exploded out of the unmoving colt’s horn. The young clone’s muzzle was twisted into an expression that Starfire had never seen a pony perform before, least of all himself.

Somehow, seeing the event from a fresh perspective only made it worse. Everything worse.

“I don’t want to see this again and again! Stop it!”

Everything around him was white. It was the blackest white he had ever seen.

“Stop torturing me already!” He swiped at the ghastly vision before him as the bright orange battled with the hellish white in a vast void of nothingness.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he knew it was all a dream. Of course it was. Each and every one of these so called ‘premonitions’ were but nightmares. Thoughts planted into his unwaking mind by an evil princess. He said so himself. They felt so real, but they were but nightmares. Logical. They could not faze him. Not mind-pictures.

And yet, he felt as though he couldn’t control his emotions. Like he wasn’t really in control at all. Every time he swiped at the vision with his hooves, it bore closer towards him, a terrible ghost of his past. He could hear, somewhere outside of this muffling white, his young, frantic cries, the screams of the examiners, and the crackling tearing of the auditorium.

With one panicked utterance of, “I’m not scared of you, Nightmare Moon!” Starfire tore himself free of his younger self’s apparent grasp and began to run. His legs felt airy and light, detached, but with steely determination, he powered through the shifting orange and white and all the while bit his cheek and tongue so hard that it felt as though he were chewing metal. “Wake up, you fool,” He cried under his breath, “I need see no more of these bad dreams! Wake up!”

He quickly realized that he made no ground in this endless whitesphere, as though he were running on the spot, which, it struck him, he very may well have been doing. The reverb rattled his skull, and his ears popped as every sound melded into one. Out of the white, the orange came into fruition, like a burning skyline. The familiarly haunting skeletons of collapsed buildings and crumbling monuments shifted through the fog, blurring into a graveyard of awful, decaying ruin.

His horn clenched. He felt the acidic tang on the tip of his tongue. The closing vice. He stopped, staggered, but kept his balance, before twirling on the spot and yelling into the apocalyptic scene, “Do you hear me, Nightmare Moon? You…” He stumbled over a suitable insult, “…Gaping hag-bag? I’m not scared of you! Or these dreams! Your one power over us is slipping!”

The orange was all consuming now, flames dancing like sprites along a wavering horizon of burning buildings. He could make out the brickwork, the streets, that tormented little coffee shop he spent so many years tending; his neighbourhood, in cinders. But he remained steadfast. “Nothing you can do here will scare me! Nothing! I don’t fear you! You’re nothing!”

“So? I’m nothing, then?” The voice came from behind him, stern, knowingly, righteous, cutting through the screech of magic and the wail of fire, and the screaming, such awful screaming. The young doppleganger Starfire, still held in place and pulsating with power unknown to him, a trapped and photographed soul bound to his one mistake, slid along the ground unnaturally without moving so much as a muscle, as though levitating. It made not a sound, and stopped just short of Starfire’s own muzzle. He stared the doppleganger up and down, and never broke contact with the eyes, solid fiery discs that couldn’t possibly have once been his. Like alien pools of a most primal, heightened excellence…

The doppleganger colt's mouth fell open, corpse-like, and the orange that spurted from its horn quickly turned sickly black. The nightmarish magical aura spun into the sky and all the light dispersed at once, and the black form hung high in the sky, towering above the unicorns both.

The black form was it. That indescribable wrath from before. Starfire felt his heart clench as the wisps and the sparks molded into black shadows and ghastly tendrils, and great awful whipping testicles that broke and reformed in one wriggling mass. From it, a face manifested, that of Nightmare Moon, fazing in and out amongst the smoke, disembodied from the world, or lack thereof. "You truly don't find yourself trembling in fear when you see my visage, subject?"

"Not anymore. I'm through."

"Do you respect me, then, mortal? Could you see me as the ruler I am, and bow?"

"I never bow. Not to the likes of you. You've done nothing to impress me. To garner respect."

She laughed. "Don't you know I could crush you in an instant, unicorn? Like a bug?"

The unicorn stood defiant. "Not from what I have seen. You can't even face us yourself. You just implant these notions in our heads." Blackness was creeping in on his vision. His horn ached. He tried to keep his voice steady. "Destroy us, then. Do it. What is keeping you? I'm in your domain now. If you're the ruler you think you are, strike me down." She scowled, but nothing happened. "Thought so. Even in the dream world, you can't hurt me. You're nothing but empty threats. And hot air. No, you don't scare me any more."

"I see." With a sigh, her face drifted back, back into the disgusting mass from which she came. She began to contort and change, features spreading and twisting as the midnight darkness poured into her mouth and enveloped her face, and the ever-present tentacles of the black thing stuffed and gorged and pulled her apart until a new face re-emerged, like beaten clay, fresh and free. Its voice changed, no longer feminine and powerful, but charming, and silky, commanding, much befitting the monster's new guise. "Tell me, then, do you fear me?"

Those deep blue eyes, and movie-star jawline. Rows of perfect white teeth. The sparkle of gold on gold.

Starfire hesitated. "Icarus?"

The captain's head, so high above him, gave a wink. "As if you couldn't tell. I'll ask again. Do you fear me?"

The student below glanced around at the auburn destruction that surrounded him. The white, like thread, weaved through the broken skyscrapers that teetered on the edge of his fading vision. "What is this, Nightmare Moon? A trick? Why Icarus? Why are you showing this to me?"

The face reverted, back to the fallen princess. "I'm not showing you a thing, young fool. I cannot decide your dreams for you, nor can I change their outcome by myself. I simply watch, and listen. I'm implanting no notion in your mind that is not already there. This dream, young mortal, is all on you."

"Answer my question."

"Only when you answer mine." The mare in the moon laughed, and rubbed a tendril along her chin. "Do you fear him, if not me?"

Starfire pointed to the carnage that encircled them both. "What is his part in this? Tell me!"

She eyed him quizzically, almost sadly, and replied, "This? This destruction? None at all."

The unicorn's knees gave out. He grit his teeth. His horn sent agonizing shockwaves all along the length of his body, but he mustered the strength to groan out a final question, "Then how do I prevent it, villain?"

The words caught in her throat, and for the first time, she looked around and saw the world as it was, and something close to worry came about her, but then it was gone as quickly as it came.

"I... I don't think you can."

With that, there was a flash, and the black aura lifted at once. Nightmare Moon's image sizzled and popped, and so too did Icarus', flickering back and forth in an electrical storm. The nightshade dispersed, shrinking back into the horn of the doppleganger colt, but the orange and the white remained.

Starfire felt the heat of flames lash out at him. A burning in his chest, restricting. He coughed to clear it, and yet, it remained. He grasped at his younger self for support, but it moved from him, and he fell at its hooves, sharply. Without warning, the doppleganger's eyes rolled forward, still orange and yellow and gleaming, and the colt came to life.

Falling out of his stasis, fire and rage danced along his glowing horn as he stumbled, just slightly, and then lifted his head. He coughed, smiled his young, toothy smile, and spoke.

“That's right, I don’t think we can.”

And the fires raged.

“Ah man, ah jeez, Starfire, wake up. Come on, Starfire. I’m sorry. It wasn’t funny. I won’t do it again. Wake up.”

“I personally thought it was very funny, if I am to be honest with you, Cananor.”

“Well, yeah, I thought it was funny too, but I didn’t know it was going to actually hurt him.”

A pause. “I still found it to be humorous, irrespectively. But we really ought to see if he is quite alright. I do hope he is still breathing.”

The groggy Starfire felt something sharp poke into the soft of his side, and give him a little prick.

“He’s breathing… I think. I didn’t even push him that hard!” Another jab. “Come on, Starfire, don’t make a habit of this, friend. Please. Say something.”

“Maybe you should poke him harder? Aren’t sticks meant to, uh, heal stuff, like help when you hurt your leg or something?”

“Are you… are you perchance referring to a splint, Derky?”

“Probably, yeah. Splinter him, then?”

“You’re thinking about vampires again, Derky. You stab vampires with sticks, not unconscious ponies. My heart is thumping like a rabbit, here. I just want to know if he is okay.” A final prod. “Wait… yeah, I can see him stirring! Look! He’s okay! Starfire is okay! Darn, I'm sure glad to see I haven't perfected the killing joke just yet!"

"You could have fooled me, dearest Cananor. They often leave me feeling rather dead inside."

"Eh, you love 'em really."

Starfire grumbled a response, still coming in and out of that magical lucid limbo of unconsciousness when the soul cries, bare, and the voice is absent. The events he had just witnessed in his mind were only half there, stolen by the pain. He rasped, and instantly clutched at his head, and then his stomach. “Ow. OW. Ugh. Did you...?" Yes. Yes they did. Despite his fazedness, he mustered up quite a stern tone. Sterner tone. "I told you NOT to make me do that again." He hoisted himself up using a tree log, swayed, and then collapsed. His eyes flittered under the burning bright light of his magical white aura. His horn had a black hue to it, as though scorched, and his hair sizzled. The smell of rising smoke was heavy in the air. He mumbled his words, as though he wasn't quite in control of them. "Oh, my chest. That smarts. Ugh. I coulda... set myself alight. I hope you... know that. You would have been... And look at what else you made me do. Fire. I've started a fire."

"Oh, shoot. That's pretty weird. But it's only a little one," Cananor assured him with a sniff. His own mane glowed with fiery embers, and he quickly patted them out before they could singe his perfect hair. "It's fine."

"Big fires start small." Starfire tried again to stand up, this time with Derky under one arm and Weatherstorm under the other, but he struggled to stay on his hooves correctly. "Don't want... forest to burn. Zecora saved it. Irresponsible. Didn't think... how you doing stuff, might..."

The lawyer struggled to find meaning in the half sentences. "Ah, I'm sorry, Starfire. Cross my heart, I won't prank you any more. I feel pretty bad about it. Didn't know it would hurt you that much, or be that dangerous."

"But of course, deepest apologies, my friend. We shall refrain from replicating such insensitivity from here on out."

"Oh, uh... sorry, Starfire. We didn't mean to give you an angry tummy ache."

"But," Cananor continued, optimistically, "Everything worked out the way it should have, right? A little bit unorthodox, sure, but that funky light on your horn burning itself into my retinas must mean that you're picking up some of that out of place magic."

His words were fading in and out of Starfire's mind, just as the swaying beige unicorn was fading in and out of focus. "I... t-think so. Ah, jeez Louise, that's sore. I'm..." Almost slipping through the support of his Pegasi comrades, they fought to keep him upright. "What is this? Huh?"

Derky passed around a worried glance. "Guys, I think he might still be asleep. 'Cos he's mumbling like a crazy pony."

Cananor concurred, "It happens. My bubbe, that is my mom's mom, she talks all the time, even in her sleep. Sometimes she even bores HERSELF unconscious. Always something about bird-cats coming to peck out our eyes."

"What, like, eh... griffons?"

"Nah, I doubt it. She'd keep yelling, 'Keep those filthy, feline vermin-birds away from me! They'll take anything they can get! They're going to steal the eyes out of my head!' Swatting at the air and all that. You know, typical, senile old lady stuff."

"..."

"Cananor, I'm so sorry to say that I do believe that your grandmother may be a racist."

Starfire interjected before Cananor could further defend her outdated ways. "I'm... not asleep. But I feel m-more... fatigue... that I ever have in my..." He sharply inhaled and grunted, his head bobbing to one side. "I can't keep this spell up. It's... takin... everything, ah whew..."

"Starfire," Derky shook his friend. "Stay, uh... stay with us, like, so you can sniff the magic and tell us where Belove is and stuff. Or is it Nightmare Moon we're looking for now?" He giggled. "I can't remember."

"Nightmare Moon, I think," Cananor replied. "Belove is many things, but he ain't magic. He just surrounds himself with smoke and mirrors."

"I thought Nightmare Moon was keeping Belove hostage, chaps."

"Oh yeah. That sucks."

Starfire looked like he was about to say something else, but his head fell back and he let out a small gasp. Weatherstorm gasped along with him, the suddenness taking him by surprise, and he very nearly let him fall. "I've never... felt this magic. It's w-weird." His voice lowered to a whimper. "Over... this way. I feel it."

"Jolly good! Now we're in business!" Weatherstorm perked up and nearly clapped his hooves, and, for the second time, was reminded by all present that such an action whilst carrying Starfire would be a rather poor one. "Belove, Nightmare Moon, whomever we shall meet, let us do so, for we now know the way, at long last! Lead on, Mr Starfire! You CAN walk, can't you?"

The unicorn shook his head weakly. Seemed like a negative. Every word he spoke felt like a dagger to the chest, every thought like a hammer to the skull. His horn still burned, but it was beginning to numb, and the light was already fading. They had to be quick about their rescue mission, whilst he could maintain the spell.

Weatherstorm humphed. "I should suppose you'll want us to carry you, then."

Even though he was fading in and out of reality at a startling rate, and uttering a single breath made his rib-cage feel like it was collapsing, he couldn't help an offhoof, "Helped you... carry a piano."

"Quite true. I feel as though I repaid my debt amply for that deed, but... well, we can always work the nitty-gritty when we have a tad more leisure time." Both he and Derky made sure the unicorn was secured firmly in their care, and were glad that the sleek, slender pony was not half as heavy as that infernal piano. "So, where to, skipper?"

What the student mumbled next was anyone's guess, but he gave a trembling gesture towards along the road, and so they obliged, he in their arms all the while, like a very drunk monarch at a very ill-attended parade.

"Three cheers for Dues Ex Machina. These unthought spells of convenience surely are a blessing. Who knows what other spells you can achieve, if you put you mind to it, or, rather, don't?"

"It's, er... funny to think that we could have, like... not had to have done... did this to make us know where we were going. If we could read maps right."

"Indeed, Derky. Unfortunate that we had to reduce Starfire to such a state, but we all learned something today, and I'm sure our Cananor can appreciate the humour in the situation. Any sort of pun or obscure joke to add, old chap?"

Canano Acapella snapped to attention at the sounding of his name. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Um... it's not surprising that we can't find Nightmare Moon, because we don't seem to have much latitude when it comes to following legends."

"Boo."

"Yeah, yeah, don't spring joke demands on me and expect me to come up with top shelf material." The so called 'comedian' allowed the trio, two hovering and one heaving, to start off on the journey. Derky seemed to be doing most of the actual navigating, Weatherstorm simply following the blurry brown shape ahead to the best of his blind ability. Starfire looked like a crumpled blue bedsheet, carried between them. These were the ponies who were to save the world.

Cananor looked back down at the piece of paper he had been gifted, and mouthed the words again to himself:

'If your lucks seems to have run out,

Your path locked without a key,

You really needn't fear, or self doubt,

Please try your comedy.

Never shy away or hide

From spreading joy and cheer.

Keep practicing, get better, reach your stride,

Until you make me laugh sincere.

I hope you take my words to heart,

And I wish you all the best.

Stay safe.

Stay funny.

Stay smart.

Stay Cananor.

A gag above the rest.

- Zecora'

A drop of water hit the page, and turned the white a blotchy grey, yet it wasn't raining. He couldn't help but laugh, and he wasn't sure why. Folding the page in half, and half again, he gently placed the note back into the bag around his neck, tightened the cords, and gave it a single pat, so it pressed against his heart.

And then he joined the others.