In spite of her youth, Scootaloo thought she saw more oddities than most foals. Living in Ponyville all her life, she was at ground zero for the return of Discord. During his brief reign apples ripened from the ground and rose on their branches, colors that shouldn't exist danced across the land, and pig sprouted wings to fly towards the moonset, much to Scootaloo's irritation. Before today, if asked what the weirdest thing she ever saw was, she would confidently say the time chaos itself reigned in Ponyville.
Now though, she was reconsidering.
Floating in front of her was... something. Resembling a falcon with a round head, large eyes, and hooked yellow beak tipped in black. Yet it was around Scootaloo's size if not larger, too big to be a falcon. Its body was cloaked with scarlet feathers, while its wings expressed greater variety. Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, and more hues than Scootaloo cared to identify, like it stole a rainbow and forged from it wings. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, and unfortunately for Scootaloo, not the avian's most distinguishing feature.
Its legs were thin and wiry like any other bird, if as long as an ostrich or flamingo. The obvious multiple joints on the legs were another matter entirely. Scootaloo wasn't the best at biology, but she knew leg joints weren't supposed to bend in such locations or at such angles. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the bird gave her an apt demonstration, twisting and turning to scratch the back of its neck with a claw. Only the lack of breakfast kept Scootaloo from losing her lunch. She'd almost claim it was one of Discord's pets, but this was too subtle for him; you just had to glance at anything from Discord to know it didn't belong. Compared to checkerboard fields and clouds of cotton candy, prehensile legs weren't obvious.
“What are you?” Scootaloo asked, yet the bird only silently floated in place, not even flapping its wings. The sun's rays glistened on its feathers, creating an aura of color that would've awed and inspired her were she not trying to get the avian to react. She waved her hoof in front of it's face, yet still it stared stoically. She threw a towel over it's head, yet it just shrugged it off and continued as it were. In a fit of rage, she punched the thing in the leg and received only shock and pain when the only thing she hit was bathroom floor.
“GAAH!” She yelped in pain before up-righting herself and backing away from the bird. Once her heart calmed from the adrenaline, she figured she had only one option left. “Please, just tell me what you are already!” She begged. At this, the being finally responded, lifting its leg and pointing its talon at Scootaloo. Was it trying to attack her? Did she push her luck too far? No, if it wanted filly fillet for lunch it would've attacked sooner. Perhaps it was just answering her question the only way it could. An inability to speak would explain the past few minutes. Still, it was pointing at her...what could it mean?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on the door “Scootaloo? I heard shouting? Is something wrong?”
“Aunt Holiday, you're not going to believe my answer, so please open the door to see it.”
“Uhh...Okay?” the door handle wiggled. “Could you please...”
“Right. Heh, sorry.” As soon as Scootaloo unlocked the door, she looked back towards the avian in place. Content that it hadn't flown the coop, she opened the door.
“Now then, what did you need to show me?” Holiday asked a rather confused Scootaloo. Wasn't it obvious?
“Very funny Aunt Holiday, but you can cut it out now.”
“I don't...what do you mean?”
“What do I...It's right there! Can't you see it?”
Holiday's eyes followed Scootaloo's hoof, drifting ever closer towards the curious falcon. She made eye contact with the bird of prey when she at last responded.“Scoots, there's nothing here.”
That was a response Scootaloo neither expected nor accepted. The bird's poly chromatic coat stood out in the monochromatic white bathroom. She turned to her Aunt, hoping to find a tell in her face, a break in the facade, something to show this whole thing was a prank. She found none. “So you don't see any bird? Any at all?”
Holiday's brow furrowed, her eyes meeting Scootaloo's. “No. Scoots, are you feeling alright?”
“Never better.”
“Still, if you're seeing things, we need to take you to Ponyville Hospital.”
Scootaloo seized up; just as she looked forward to a day of freedom, a welcome turn of luck given what by Twilight said, it had been blown from her grasp. “NO!” She shouted, her Aunt flinching at the desperation that laced the declaration. Scootaloo looked at the bird and, desperate for a way out, pleaded with it. “Show her your real! Do something! Please...Please...”
Holiday looked upon her with soft eyes of maternal worry, hoof covering mouth. “Scootaloo...” she began, her mind set in its intended course as she took a step back. “Wait right here, I'll...”
*PECK *
“Gah!”
Unfortunately, her step back was not enough to get out of pecking range.
*PECK **PECK *
“What the-”
*PECK **PECK **PECK *
“That's enough!” commanded Scootaloo. The avian ceased it's assault immediately, resuming it's stoic vigil. The filly investigated her aunt for damages; aside from a few small bruises and a little blood, there wasn't any physical damage. If Holiday's mostly vacant, somewhat fear stricken expression was any indication, her mind was a different story. “Aunt Holiday? Are you okay?”
“...Yeah. I think I am.” She wasn't, given her monotone voice. “I...I'm going to speak with Lofty. Don't leave the house until I come back.”
“I'm not in trouble, am I?” Her question was answered with naught but silence. “Aunt Holiday?”
“Hmm? Oh, no! You're not in trouble! I just-” The sentence was never finished, as Holiday choose that time to start leaving the room. That and her thoughts were such a jumbled mess she couldn't find the proper words to finish it. That left Scootaloo alone in the room, lightly confused and heavily worried. Her aunt obviously noticed the bird; speaking from experience even her thick skull wouldn't protect her. Since she wasn't at risk of being sent to Ponyville Hospital in a straight jacket, she relaxed her posture. When she remembered what that poly-chromatic parakeet did to get Holiday's attention, Scootaloo immediately tensed up again. That darn thing had been nothing but a pain in the flank all morning. All ten minutes of it.
“Alright you dumb rooster, listen-”she turned around to find herself alone. “-up?” The bird thing was nowhere to be found? It was finally gone? “It's finally gone!” Scootaloo wanted to shout with joy, but that would interrupt her aunt's conversation, so she settled for bouncing on the tiled floor in excitement. Did it leave on it's own volition after causing such chaos? Did it see the damage it caused and flew the coop? Scootaloo didn't have the answers at the time, and frankly didn't care. She was finally free of the bird, just herself, her injured Aunt Holiday, and Aunt Lofty who saw nothing.
Never let it be said, by teachers or peers or grades, that Scootaloo was dumb, for before her thoughts were finished she realized the pickle she was in. One Aunt was hurt, the other didn't see what caused it, the culprit was gone, and she was the only one in the room where it happened.
“Aw horsefeathers.”
Didn't take long for panic to start taking hold, but it would be a while before she lost all higher cognition in a flurry of fear. Taking this opportunity she tried to formulate a plan to get out of this mess. “Okay, Scootaloo; all you have to do is explain the bird went away. She knows I wouldn't hurt her! Right?” She shook her head. “No no no, I can't do that. Maybe I should just take the blame myself, call it an accident and deal with the consequences. Certainly beats risking Lofty seeing me as a monster. But then Holiday would claim I didn't do it and honesty is the best policy and I JUST WISH THAT STUPID BIRD WAS BACK!”
Scootaloo would've flinched at how loud she was, but she was distracted from her feelings on the matter by other feelings. A particular sensation she hadn't the vocabulary for radiated from every fiber of her being, like a part of her she didn't knew existed separating from the rest of her. Looking down at her forehooves to see what was happening, she could see the faint outline of a familiar pair of legs superimposed upon her own. Quickly these images leaped off of her, taking the familiar shape in front of her, vigilant and proud, as though it never left.
It took a moment before Scootaloo regained her faculties, yet she it was difficult to make sense of what happened. The bird...came from her.
She recalled how, when inquired what it was, it merely pointed its talon at her.
“You're...me?”
It did not respond, so Scootaloo assumed that was a yes; not much else to go on. Frankly though it just raised more questions. Though as she heard the clip-clop of hooves outside, she knew she wouldn't get answers anytime soon.
'This is my fourth weirdest day.' she thought to herself.
“Are you certain?” Lofty asked her partner. When Holiday came downstairs, bloody forehead and thousand yard stare, she grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen. As she treated her love's wound, her love treated her to the story of happenings upstairs.
“I know it sounds crazy, but something poked me when I went upstairs. Something I couldn't see.” replied Holdiay.
“But Scootaloo, said it was some kind of bird, right?”
“I didn't see anything Lofty; It could've been a tree for all I know!” she shook her head “No, couldn't be; trees don't draw blood without walking into them.” Unconsciously Holiday ran her hoof through her bangs, wincing as it grazed her forehead. She could feel the wound through the bandage, evidence against the bathroom incident being a hallucination, the piercing pain proof of possession or poltergeist or phantasmal poultry. Why was Scootaloo the only one who could see it? “But your right, for some reason our niece saw what we couldn't. What do you think it is?”
“I don't know, Honey.” Lofty replied, voice steady and monotone, turning towards her beloved slowly and deliberately. “Consider what happened these past few years in Ponyville, in Equestira. I cannot think of a feasable explanation because the line between possible and impossible has been blurred, stretched, and diluted repeatedly.” For a moment, nothing was said between the two mares. They just silently sat in each other's presence. What else could be said?
“You think a doctor would help, Holiday?”
“No. Doctors don't deal with ghosts.”
“How do you know it's a ghost?”
“What else could it be? Even if it isn't, at this point it's mostly a matter of semantics. Invisible phantasm that is haunting Scootaloo and bringing misfortune. We need somepony who knows how to deal with supernatural beings and creatures from beyond the veil.”
“Are you sure, because it could be a hallu-” Lofty never finished that sentience, for as soon as the first syllable left her mouth, Holiday stared her in the eyes, irate of face and hoof pointed at her forehead. The stained bandage a blunt reminder their niece was not sick in the head. “Right. Sorry.”
Holiday's face relaxed at her apology. “It's alright, sweetie. But the doctors of Ponyville can't help us here. They're not trained extensively in spiritual affairs. No, there's only one professional of supernatural persuasion anywhere near Ponyville.”
“She does owe us for the apple cores and fish...”
“Then it's settled!” Holiday stood up at the declaration. “I'll go to the Everfree and get her, you stay here and make sure nothing bad happens to Scootaloo.”
“No!” Lofty shouted “You've been through enough this morning; You stay, I'll go.”
Holiday wanted to argue she would be the one to brave the forest, not wanting her partner to risk herself in the eldritch woods. Yet she knew the chance of infection was too great. Staying home would be best for her health and Scootaloo. “Alright. Be careful and return soon. I doubt ghosts polite house guests.”
“Hey, if it proves too much my cousin always said ghosts were weak to salt. Just throw a shaker at them and they should stop.” Lofty paused as she reached the door. “Be careful as well.” she muttered before she opened the door and ventured towards the Everfree Forest.
Sweet Apple Acres, 6:00 am
A life dedicated to agriculture is filled with labor; to succeed in the business, one needs to plant, nourish, and harvest enough crop to feed their family and generate enough additional revenue to keep the lights on and the house fixed at least. To do this, numerous tools are used; carts, shovels, wheels, buckets, hoes, ovens, ledgers, marketing, and many more. For a large and successful orchard like Sweet Apple Acres, this meant nearly ever day from dawn to dusk is filled with work. The sizzle of pans making breakfast and hoofsteps on the wooden floor echoed through the house as the ponies within prepared for the day. Yet one room stayed silent.
Applebloom sat on top of the sheets of her bed, head tilted downward. To an outside observer, it looked like she was either still waking up or deep in thought. In truth she was wide awake, she was deep in thought, but her head tilted to focused on something.
Joining her on her bed were four small bipeds, each roughly twelve inches tall, each wearing long sleeved brown t shirts, red five-clawed gloves, and blue overalls. On there heads were yellow hardhats, each side etched with esoteric runes that Applebloom knew she'd never understand. Gas masks adorned their faces, deep purple with large light blue eye pieces; upon closer look, faint spectral light radiated from the lenses. At the base of each mask was a tube connected to a canister on the right hip of each worker, both the same purple as the masks. The tiny workers were standing at attention, hands folded behind their erect backs, as though awaiting orders from their forepony.
“Now what the hay are y'all?” Asked Applebloom, “and why're y'all in mah room?” No response. Applebloom groaned in frustration and hopped off her bed, her trek to the kitchen blocked by more of the small creatures in front of the door. “Could y'all please get out of the way?” Applebloom asked, and they complied without delay, intriguing the filly. Breakfast could wait, she had an experiment to do.
“Alright Y'all, stand in the center of this here room.” Applebloom expected the guys on the bed to . From every corner of the room they came; under the bed, in the closet, behind the curtains. A swarm of little workers leaking from every corner in the room. When the flow stopped and all were front and center, the green filly was in awe at the size of the assembly. She tried counting them but lost track after fifty-four. “There sure are a lot of you, aren't there?”
Like before, they didn't verbally respond. Was that something they just couldn't do? “Jump,” commanded Applebloom, and so they jumped. Perfectly in sync with each other at that. She flinched at the resulting loud thud and pretended not to notice the wood creaking afterwards. “Step forward,” she said, and so they stepped forward, perfectly in sync once again. 'Step back,' she thought, and they did before she could speak.
Spurred on by this discovery, her next few commands went unspoken. 'Take off your hat.' 'Raise your right arm.' 'Place your left arm here.' Each instruction they performed flawlessly, barring the removal of their hardhats, only starring blankly at Applebloom when asked. 'Maybe they're self-conscious,' she thought, 'Ah well, nothin' wrong with that!' After all, if what she saw so far held true, she had her own servants!
As the possibilities the tiny critters opened flooded her mind, there was a knock at her door. “Applebloom!” Applejack knocked again. “You alright in there?”
“Yeah, sis!” replied Applebloom, “Just getting ready is all.”
“So you're well enough to help us in the Orchard, right?”
'Dang it!' Applebloom thought, 'Walked right into that one.' She considered just saying no, that she was still a bit tired from yesterday's ordeal and needed a restful morning. Then she remembered her sister was the Element of Honesty and lying to her was like waking a sleeping dragon; all you get is a tanned hide and yelled at. “Yeah, I'll be down in a couple of minutes.”
She listened carefully as Applejack walked away, hoofsteps getting fainter and fainter. When she could no longer hear her sister, Applebloom turned back to the small workers, only to find an empty room. This confounded the poor filly, but she already knew how to deal with it. 'Come on out, y'all.' Applebloom expected them to crawl out from under her bed or out of her closet, maybe a few from behind the curtains like before. She wasn't expecting them to appear from absolutely nothing, since frankly no sane pony would've expected. that
In spite of this demonstration of either invisibility or teleportation - Applebloom knew neither which was true nor how to figure it out – she quickly recovered. After storing the fact for later in the recesses of her memory, she was about to dismiss them when she realized they needed a name. She wasn't going to give one to each individual, but calling them 'her workers' or 'her servants' or 'the little guys that she controlled' all the time didn't sound right and didn't quite roll off the tongue. Several ideas bounced around in her head, but none really clicked. She looked at the colts before her.
They weren't colts though, were they? No they looked...bipedal. That's the word Twilight used when describing minotaurs and diamond dogs, right? There was a synonym for that word, but She couldn't... humanoid! The word was humanoid, as in like those strange creatures Mrs. Heartstrings keeps obsessing over. Applebloom didn't know if these even looked like humans, but they were certainly strange.
“Alright Y'all! From now on Ah'm callin' this here group [MEN AT WORK]. That okay with Y'all?” As they nodded their heads in response, Applebloom smiled and turned towards the door. It wasn't the most romantic name, but it was apt. “C'mon! It's time to start the day and we have a ton of work to do.”
Carousel Boutique, 8:43 am.
“Sweetie, I know we ended last night on harsh terms, and I cannot deny my incessant prodding did not contribute.” Rairty spread blackberry jam on a piece of toast, meticulously covering every inch in an even layer. “However, today is a new day! So please, do tell what happened yesterday.”
“Well,” Sweetie Belle began, “it all started when Scootaloo saw something shiny tucked away in the shelf...”
“Well, go on.”
“Ah, right. Well, what she saw was the tip of some kind of ancient arrow. Like it was older than Granny Smith. Scootaloo thought the tip was gold, I thought it looked pretty, so we convinced Applebloom we should get it down and take it home with her. Oh! I forgot to mention, Mrs. Goldie Delicious allowed Applebloom's family to take an 'heirloom' of their choice for helping her clean up and...clean up and stuff.”
“Are you alright, Sweetie?” Rarity was worried for her sister; while she was talking about yesterday, a step up from last night, it was obvious her focus was elsewhere. Sweetie was tired when she came home last night, so it blaming it on lingering exhaustion would've made since had she not slept for over ten hours. Combined with the lack of any other symptoms, and Rarity knew something wasn't right.
While she worried about her sister, Sweetie Belle worried about her sister's apparent blindness. When she came down the stairs Rarity said nothing of the guardian trailing behind her. When the dishes were being set out Rarity only commented on her magical growth, oblivious to the lack of horn glow. Most irritating of all, and proof of either invisibility, blindness, or Rarity's composure, when Sweetie mentally commanded the being to wave a claw – Lyra would say it was a hand, but the tips were too sharp – over her sister's face, she didn't even flinch.
Speaking of, Sweetie looked at it again. Superficially it looked like a unicorn, yet there were several details that betrayed its nature as something alien. Light blue metal covered what should've been fur, and Sweetie knew it was metal from the occasional bolt and screw heads that peaked through. It wore a light pink sweater and a medium length silver skirt. Eerily enough, its mane possessed the same color scheme as her own, but was wild and unkempt in contrast to her meticulously maintained mane. The eyes glowed a solid green, but it didn't seem to be blind.
Of course there were also razor sharp claws where there should've been forehooves, but that went without saying.
Sweetie Belle's investigations didn't stop at mere observation; she knew it obeyed her, as she asked it to make her bed and it did almost perfectly with its claws. A task which would've taken minutes to accomplish with her magic the sentinel finished in one. When she asked it to organize her closet, it...well, it tried its best but she had to step in and tell it where to put everything. Perhaps it was just bad at organizing: Sweetie couldn't blame it, she had issues doing so before.
She had results, therefore it wasn't giving someone else her chores; Sweetie was doing science.
Like now, as she half listened to Rarity's discussion, trying instead to get her sister to notice the foal like machine floating in front of her face. Having it in plain sight and waving its claws in front of her sister's face weren't working, so either Rarity pretended not to notice to mess with her or she truly couldn't see it. Since Rarity often scoffed at the pranks of Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, Sweetie Belle knew it was the latter.
'Ah well,' she thought, 'there's no helping it.' She munched on her eggs; scrambled with cheddar cheese, with only a dash of salt and pepper. Just the way she liked it.
“Sweetie?” Rarity asked, interrupting Sweetie's meal.
“Hmm?”
“You never answered my question.” Rarity put down her toast and gave Sweetie a worried look.”Which does answer my question; something's on your mind, isn't it?”
“No...Well, yes,” Sweetie responded, “It's just - when leaving Goldie's house, Applebloom and I saw...something.” She fidgeted in her chair. “It looked yellow, and it's hard to explain.” She wanted to ask a question, but she couldn't find the words for a time. “Rarity, are ghosts real?”
That was a question Rarity didn't expect, nor was she qualified to give an answer to. “Ghosts? Darling, don't be silly. Where did you get such an idea?”
“It's not silly!” Sweetie's spine straightened and face hardened. “We've both met the spirit of chaos, aren't ghosts and spirits the same thing?”
“They actually aren't. Funny story, Rainbow asked Twilight the same question and...”
“And what about the Ghosts of Hearthswarming?” Sweetie interrupted.
“That's just a Heathswarming story, Sweetie. Not a historical account.” Rarity's voice gained an edge.
“And speaking of Discord? Wasn't he a ghost for a while?”
“Enough!” Rarity shouted, “Sweetie, I don't know if ghosts exist. Given my experience over the past few years, I wouldn't be surprised if they did.” Her face drained of rage, morphing from absolutely livid to mildly peeved, while adopting just a touch of sisterly worry and utter bafflement. “I just need to know why you're asking. Do you think you've seen one as of late?”
“Well, maybe,” Sweetie replied. Before Rarity could inquire further, a strange knocking sound came from the wall. Rarity stiffened in place, face frozen in fear. As one sister's face adopted terror, the other grew more smug. There was no way this plan could fail. “What about that? If that isn't the sound of a ghost, then I don't know what is.”
When Sweetie didn't get a response, she looked at her sister. The smile on her face melted away, every ounce of victory evaporated, upon seeing the look of horror. “Rarity, are you alright?”
“R-R-R..”
“Rarity?”
“RAT!” Rarity, having regained the ability to move her legs, rapidly backed away from the wall the knocking came from. “THERE'S A RAT IN MY BOUTIQUE!” That some rodent was in her place of business, in her house! The damage it could bring upon the food, the furniture, the fabric; she went into hysterics at the thought. As her breakdown escalated, Sweetie watched from the sidelines, meditating on what just happened.
'Maybe asking Miss Ghost to knock on the wall wasn't a good idea.' This wasn't what Sweetie Belle wanted, though given her sister's history of dramatics, she should've seen this coming. At worst Sweetie only expected her sister to attribute the sound to her own imagination or some other mundane excuse, an acceptable risk if it meant proving her spectral house-guest's existence. But this?
'I should probably stop her before she has a heart attack,' Sweetie thought, having followed Rarity into the workroom. Since her breakfast wasn't finished and the dishes were unwashed, Rarity must've thought solving the rat issue was urgent. Since the truth of the matter wouldn't involve rat exterminators – Sweetie didn't think rat poison would do anything and the ghost, weird as it was, proved helpful, making her reluctant to get it out of here – Sweetie grabbed onto her sisters leg to save her the trouble. Or rather, she thought about grabbing it and the ghost did it before she could start.
“Sweetie Belle, now's not the time to practice your telekinesis, and there's never a good time to practice on your sister. So please, let go of me! I have to get an exterminator.”
“First of all, I'm not using my magic; no horn glow, see?” Her sister didn't see, didn't even look, but Sweetie continued. “Secondly, I can say without a doubt a rat didn't knock on the wall, it was...”
“It was what?” Rarity barked, causing Sweetie Belle to flinch, “Let me guess, a ghost?” Quickly realizing her temper, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. When she opened them again, the rage was gone yet the firmness remained. “I understand you think you know the problem, but without evidence to the contrary I'm going with the most reasonable answer.”
'Evidence is what I've provided all morning.' Sweetie Belle thought bitterly. If what she provided so far wasn't good enough to convince her sister, then she didn't know what would. Sure, she could just pretend Rarity was right and there was no ghost, but Sweetie knew pest control was expensive; she wasn't going to let her sister throw away bits because of something Sweetie did. 'Should've kept it to myself.' she thought.
As her sister stepped towards the door, Sweetie Belle frantically searched for something, anything to prove to her sister she wasn't crazy. Could she put some spare cloth on the ghost? Could be blamed on telekinesis and was it really worth messing with Rarity's fabrics? She couldn't get Twilight, that would take to long. By the time Equestria's sovereign analyzed her – a process likely filled with needles and standing still, Sweetie reminded herself – Rarity would've already put down the deposit and scheduled an appointment, assuming the service wasn't done by then.
When she heard the familiar hum of magic and the door's tumblers clicking, she knew she was out of time, and so resorted to instinct. After all, it got her out of several jams while crusading. Granted,it got her into most of them, but she hadn't a better option.
“NO!”
Sweetie's declaration was followed by the horrid sound of metal twisting, morphing, and compressing. Seeing her sister jump back from the door with her eyes still locked on it told her enough. While whatever she did was enough to convince her sister to stay put, the terror painted on Rarity's face was not part of the plan; she was trying to calm her down, dang it! Walking closer to comfort her sister, she saw her handiwork for herself and winced; the doorknob was crushed, and though it likely still worked, shopping for a replacement was in her future.
“Rarity, I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking and I-”
“Stop.” Sweetie would've been annoyed at the interruption, but right now she was relieved her sister's voice was free of terrible rage and raging terror. “Just give me a moment,” Rarity said. 'Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.' As she calmed down she looked at her sister, saying nothing for a minute. When at last she spoke, her voice was as calm, collected, and composed as it normally was. “Alright Sweetie. I believe you now.” She looked over to the mangled door knob. “You've weren't that strong with magic before.”
“Good to hear,” Sweetie replied, ignoring the potential insult within her sister's answer.
“Do you know where this... spirit came from?”
“No. I don't know for sure. I have a hunch though.”
“The arrow?”
“That was my hunch, yes.”
“Then what about your friends?”
Sweetie was silent for a moment, but her face betrayed her innermost thoughts, twisting from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds. Bolting upright, she ran towards the door. “We need to check, come on!”
“And if this 'ghost' thing becomes a problem?” Rarity asked.
“Twilight has the arrow. Gave it to her yesterday. She gave Applejack a way to let her know something went wrong.” Sweetie fired off at a pace even Rainbow Dash would envy. “Best bet is to go to Sweet Apple Acres and send the message to Twilight. C'mon! We were supposed to let her know if anything odd came up. ”
Were it not whiplash or urgency the past two minutes provided, Rarity would've chuckled at Sweetie's youthful excitability. Right now, all she could do was stand up and briskly trot out the house with her sister, a single question in the forefront of her mind.
'What have I gotten into?'