Chapter Sixteen: A Gift in the Darkness
The End of Ponies
by shortskirtsandexplosions
Chapter Sixteen – A Gift in the Darkness
Special thanks to Vimbert for Editing
Extra Special Thanks to Valhalla-Studios for Cover Art
An hour later, most of the lights in the house had been put out—save for the blaze in the fireplace, which was still crackling and sparking with a heated sigh over the soft shapes of embroidered furniture. Nestled in the sofa upon Granny Smith's lap, washed up and socked-up and ready for bed, Apple Bloom blinked and smiled as the lime-coated elder embraced her with a book in her hooves, rattling off a bedtime story to the dancing shadows of the room.
“'But the baby yellow birdie didn't mind none when the other songbirds tried to make fun of him. 'I'll get my own tree!' he said. 'Then I can sing big and strong just like the others!' So he flew and he flew and he flew and he flew, but all of the large trees were all filled with birdies already. He knew it was impolite to hop into another family's nest, besides it wouldn't help his singin' none to share the branches with other birdies. He needed to practice on his own! Finally—one cool and crisp mornin'—the baby yellow birdie found a tinnnnnnny sprout of an apple tree just over the hill yonder where the risin' Sun first appeared. She was such a teeny tiny thing that none of the other songbirds wanted to nest in her—but for the little yellow birdie, she was just right. 'Finally, I have a tree and she's just the size that I can learn to sing in!' So he made his nest and practiced every mornin', but his singin' wasn't gettin' any prettier. He wanted nothin' else but to sing big and strong—But it wasn't comin' out right! Finally, one mornin', he left the tiny sprout of a tree, but not without saying, 'Don't fret, Miss Apple Tree! I know just the thing that will make you grow. All of the other birdies live in big trees because they have families! Maybe if I had a family of my own, then you would become big too!'”
From the bottom of the farmhouse's stairs, Harmony listened in on the tale. She sat on the bottom step, covered in shadows, hear ears pricking foalishly to take in Granny Smith's recital. From the toasty look across Apple Bloom's firelit features, the pegasus could tell that she was well familiar with this bedtime story. It was Harmony's first.
As Granny Smith continued her gentle tale, the time traveler glanced aside to see Big Macintosh propped up on a stool before the screened porch door. With hard green eyes, he stared out into the darkness shrouding the orchards, watching for any sign of the nightmarish creatures that were lurking beyond. He had a spade balanced across his forelegs, and if he was teetering on the brink of exhaustion, he heroically didn't show any sign of it.
There was a shuffling of hooves; Applejack sauntered down from the top of the stairs and sat down next to Harmony with a groaning sigh. “Any sign of them varmints?”
Harmony slowly shook her head. “No. By the way, I thought it was Macintosh's turn to keep watch first. Shouldn't you be asleep?” Her voice was stealthily hushed beyond the ranges of Apple Bloom's hearing.
Applejack's was too. “I would say the same about you, but looks like I'm not the only restless one.” Nevertheless, she yawned and leaned against the nearby wall with bloodshot green eyes. “Here's my family, havin' a gentle moment, and yet there are such horribly nasty creatures just beyond the fences.”
“And what a nice moment it is,” Harmony murmured towards the cozy fireplace and the old and young bodies curled before it. “What I wouldn't give for a whole lifetime of moments like this...”
Applejack turned towards her, and a soft voice came out of her that soothed the pegasus ears. “All of those thangs that yer were goin' on about at the dinner table, about you seein' so many sights in the world and it all bein' so incredibly empty...” She leaned her head to the side. “Is that how you feel about life in general, Harmony?”
Harmony tried to reassure her with a smile. The result was akin to handling balloons with rusted gauntlets. “Life is never empty, AJ. It's the stuff that life tries to fill.”
“I reckon yer one of them 'trough-is-half-empty' kind of ponies.”
“Not really. I like to drink out of a canteen.”
“Pfft—Cop out!”
“Heheheh.” Harmony giggled lightly. Then, with a returning sigh, she hugged her forelegs to herself and lowered her head, gazing at the firelight and the unraveling bedtime story beyond.
“The years went by, but the yellow birdie didn't notice,” Granny Smith went on as Apple Bloom yawned and curled tighter against her. “Because he was so enamored with the family he made. He had no idea that he would be so happy to have a wife and two little chickies. He found he practiced his singin' simply by treatin' his kids to some lullabies. He forgot all about little Miss Apple Tree back home, because his whole life had become one big beautiful song, and his family had become the chorus. And without even knowin' it, he had become big and strong, just the kind of daddy that his chickies needed. It was a total surprise to him when one day they moved back to the west side of the orchards, and there the yellow birdie found himself stumbling on an enormous apple tree that was just the right size for his family! But he was scared at first, because every other bird who tried to live inside her branches was thrown out—as if the tree had come alive and refused to be nested in! 'That tree! She ain't no good!' the other songbirds said. 'She doesn't like no birds no-how!' But the yellow birdie wasn't scared. He needed a tree for his family, and she was just the right size. 'Please let me build a nest in you, Miss Apple Tree!' He begged with folded wings. 'I swear that I'm big and strong and my family needs the room!.'”
Harmony's wings absent-mindedly flexed and unflexed. A pit formed in her stomach as she thought about all of the skies she had flown in during her life; and none of them were golden. A dismal hum broke the tranquility of the room, so that she finally forced herself to glance aside and murmur Applejack's way:
“Hey, AJ.”
“Mmm—Yes, Harmony?” Applejack leaned away from the precipice of drowsiness.
“Have you—That is...” the pegasus fidgeted, fumbled, then proceeded, “as an earth pony, have you noticed anything strange about the land?”
“You mean other than nasty little trolls poppin' out of it and wantin' to kill all of us?”
“Ahem. Yes, besides that.” Harmony bit her lip, but continued uttering, “Have you felt... I don't know... any tremors or strange earthquakes or... or just about anything that would seem really out of place in the land of Equestria?”
“Can't say that I have. This here is pretty solid land. Only tremors we get is when cattle stampede from time to time. I had to save Ponyville all by myself from such a mess one time. Well, heheh, Winona helped, but that's besides the point.”
“You haven't noticed any bizarre things in the sky? Any... er... odd moon phases or other strange phenomena happening for no reason?”
Applejack squinted sideways at the pegasus. “Does this have anythang to do with that report you've been dyin' to share with the Princess?”
Harmony instantly blushed, glancing away. “Guess nothing gets past you, AJ.”
“Guilty.” She smirked. “Sugarcube, my family and I are very grateful for all the things you've done for us over the last day and a half. It was because of your foresight that Mac and I didn't get chomped to bits by trolls. And it was because of yer smarts that we've gotten so much apple buckin' done at a record rate. But I'm beginning to think that yer awful worrisome about a lot of things.”
“I-I guess it is in my nature.” Harmony smiled nervously. A gulp. “But—There are strange things ahoof in Equestria. I really, really must get in contact with the Princess somehow.”
“Like what kind of strange things?”
“I-I really don't want to cloud your head with it, Applejack.” Harmony smiled plastically. “Let's just say that there are... th-there are worse things in this world than trolls.”
“Whew—If you say so.” Applejack ran a hoof through some night-tosseled threads and shrugged. “Cuz I can't imagine anything worse than creatures who just wanna hate on a humble family of farm ponies. It's almost as if they want to bring out the worst in us. Those traps that Macky and I had made?—Plus them farm tools we were fixin' to smack against them varmints' heads?” A chill ran down the mare's spine as she shamefully glanced into the shadows. “I shudder to think how downright dirty we were plannin' on gettin'. You were right with what you said at sundown, Miss Harmony. Ponies are creatures of life. We should know nothin' about bouncin' back the misery of monsters. I almost reckon that the 'Act of Accord' is something Canterlot made to protect us from a shade of ourselves we're never meant to wake up to.”
“R-Right.” Harmony gulped. “All my Court has ever w-wanted to do,” she shuddered as she lied yet again, “is protect you.”
She fought down the shivers as Applejack did the opposite alongside her. The orange mare had drifted off into a stone-still slumber. Harmony felt suddenly alone. At any second, the trolls could come smashing in through the windows, and every last shred of goodness in that farmhouse would be torn asunder. With foalish fright, Harmony distracted herself with the glistening hum of Granny Smith's settling story.
“And the moment he built a nest inside her branches, the leaves started shakin' something fierce. At first the yellow birdie thought he was gonna be thrown out like all the others. But then he realized that there was somethin' musical to the way them leaves were rustlin'. And sure enough, he started singin' to the beat, and what came out of him was the most beautiful song that there ever was sung in all of them orchards. To his joy, he realized that she was the same apple tree that he had tried to build a nest in so many years ago, before he flew away to find himself such a happy family. She had waited for him all that time, so that she was big enough for the whole family and all of their happy songs. And that's when the yellow birdie thought to himself, 'Hmm, my favorite little tree isn't such a little tree anymore.' So she sang her song, big and strong, and they all lived in that great big tree happily ever after. The end.”
Granny Smith very, very quietly folded the book shut, for the little foal nestled in her lap had fallen into a soft slumber, her tiny form rising and falling with gentle breaths. The elder smiled and lovingly nuzzled the child's crimson mane as the firelight dwindled into shadows across their warm embrace. The old mare spoke liquidly, but when she did her words were aimed at a different child altogether: “It's almost as if you've never been read a bedtime story before. Why does that not surprise me?”
Harmony jolted. She glanced at the briefly slumbering Applejack beside her, then at the distant sentry in the form of Macintosh. On soft legs, she padded over towards the fireplace and murmured back through an air of conjoined silence. “It was a nice story, even if a tad bit idyllic.”
“It has to be idyllic, Miss Harmony.” Granny Smith smiled, softly stroking the mane hair of the slumbering Apple Bloom. “It's meant for a foal. No Equestrian bedtime story ever rings with the true, true dread of this world's shadows. There are many dark truths that a young pony must discover for herself. To do anything but plant seeds of hope would be a crime. You've done well to inspire Applejack and Macintosh the way you have. I rightly don't think any of us are prepared for the horrors that are about to stalk us this dark, dark night. The hope that you've brought is the best bedtime story this farm could ask for.”
“I didn't come here to bring hope, Ms. Smith,” Harmony muttered with a bitter face.
A pair of gray eyes lurched their way over Apple Bloom. “You reckon you've finally figured out what it is you're here to provide?”
“In a matter of minutes, all of us will know,” Harmony murmured, her eyes twitching on the end of green flames flickering. “Or none of us will know.”
“Miss Harmony,” the old mare spoke in a liquid haze that mirrored the fireplace before her tired eyes. “I've gone over in my head the things that you have told me, the things that you have shown me. You are built out of unfathomably strong stuff, but even you had to know that our stayin' here would be somethin' dangerous, suicidal even.” She gazed across the silent shadows towards Macintosh, towards the useless spade stretched across his limbs as he sat and stared into the billowing depths of the night. “We had an entire day at our disposal. Even without the help of Princess Celestia, we could have easily relocated ourselves to Ponyville, to safety from the creatures that must now be surroundin' us even as we speak. Whatever it is that strengthens you, Miss Harmony, it's left us vulnerable. We're slim for the trolls' pickin's now, and for what?”
“Are you trying to tell me that you've lost faith in your 'gift,' Ms. Smith?”
“Not so much as I've gained a new thing to want more than the gift itself,” she murmured. “I want a reason—an explanation—for why it's taken a gift, instead of plan happenstance, for all of us to be teeterin' on the brink of both death and exhaustion. What is at stake here, Miss Harmony? I'm startin' to think that it's more than just the Apple Family. What yer battlin' here is more than trolls, and whatever it is—you've dragged it here from the same emptiness that your lonely sky-wanderin' has evidently bestowed you. What are you tryin' to prove with this lonely crusade you've pigeon-holed yourself in—or all of us in for that matter? Do you wish to find some invisible strength that's somehow been lost to you?”
“You want to know what strengthens me, Miss Smith?” Harmony suddenly flared—something that almost tasted of anger. She burned amber spotlights into the mare's graying mane. “Look around you. See your family, bask in their warmth, cherish it. You'll find you've always had the strength that's eluded me forever. It's a strength that those trolls out there have never known, even though they think they can rip it all asunder in a single charge. I'm sorry I can't satisfy you in one crazed speech, Ms Smith. I apologize for not being able to dissuade your fears. But what you are—in smiles and in frowns, in bedtime stories and in dinner conversation—is enough to help me do the task that lies before me. Someway, somehow—I promise—I will not compromise your family's safety. I won't... I won't...”
“I never once recall sayin' that I had fears for you to dissuade, child.” Granny Smith glanced at her sideways. “Only sympathy. Only sympathy, darlin'. If yer so bent on savin' this here family—and this here land—you've got to learn to come out of the skies that have been burnin' empty around you. You've got to come down and touch the ground, ya reckon?”
Harmony numbly hung off the edges of those words, like a scooter-clinging foal staring down at a farmhouse from a lone hilltop as all the lights in the world went out. Even if she would have said something before the haunting noises kicked in, it would have been something hollow, something empty, as she suddenly saw the legacy of her whole scavenging life.
The howling noises came from the southeast. In frightening swiftness, they curved around and galloped in warbling throngs along the west end of the Orchards. Halfway into the frosted night of waiting, the terror had finally descended. Winona's barks lit the room. Macintosh leaned lurchingly forward, his ears pricking as he gazed with sudden nervousness into the heart of darkness. Another warbling chant, and the two granddaughters in the den shot up as separate halves of the same gasping soul.
“M-Macky?!” Applejack blinked the last blissful threads of slumber away as she numbly trotted across the shuddering shadows. “Is it them? Is it really them?”
“Eeeyup,” the stallion shakingly managed. The metal of his spade clamored against his hooves as a pulsing heartbeat ricocheted across the room.
“Oh heavens.” Applejack stifled a whimper under the crashing waves of the yelping madness beyond. “Oh Epona, protect us...”
“Wh-what's the matter?” Apple Bloom trembled, nakedly awake in the wrinkled forelimbs of her grandmother. “Is it them? Is it them creatures?”
“Be still, Apple Bloom, darlin',” Granny Smith murmured with iron resolve. In a blink, she snuffed out the fireplace, casting the house into doubly thick shadows as the window panes rattled with the banshee screams from beyond. “Listen to what yer sister tells ya, ya hear?”
“Oh Granny,” Apple Bloom whimpered as her yellow face deflated under a cascade of fresh tears. “I'm scared... They sound absolutely horrible! I-I'm so scared...”
“I know, dear. Stay with us, darlin'. Stay close—AJ.”
“Y-yes, Granny?”
“Are all of the other doors to the house locked?”
“I... I-I think so. Big Mac?”
“Eeeyup.”
“Th-Then all I reckon that's left t-to do is barricade the p-porch and wait them out—”
“AJ, listen to them. There're four times as many as last time, darlin'. I don't think the doors can hold.”
“W-we could... Uhm... We could h-hold out in the kitchen. If we move all of the furniture into the circle—”
“AJ...”
“And if w-we just... j-just try to keep low and all quiet-like—”
“AJ, you've been strong for this family for so long.” Granny Smith spoke lovingly under the deathly screams collapsing in on that place like a cyclone. Everypony's ears rang between the punctuations of her gentle voice. Winona's barking dwindled to a whimpering dirge. “But this is somethin' that yer honest tenacity wasn't built for. It really should be another pony makin' the next decision.”
Applejack gulped. Clinging tremblingly to a likewise shuddering brother, she gazed across the room and bore into Harmony with vulnerable green eyes that no amount of bleeding in the Wasteland had prepared the time traveler for. “Miss Harmony... Please, sp-speak to us. What sh-should we do, sugarcube?” The floorboards shook. The portraits dangled and danced along the walls. The air reverberated with the demonic chants of several invisible shadows shuffling closer, closer, closer. “T-tell me how I can save m-my family, please.”
Harmony was standing at the far end of their gaze, and yet she wasn't there. She was floating on brown wings twenty-five years later, navigating a gigantic sinkhole that had consumed the lengths of the family's entire legacy. She was walking around to the far side of a miraculously preserved house. She rounded a corner. She saw bodies.
She saw bodies.
“The storm cellar,” the last pony murmured, inviting the gray ghost back into her numb lungs under the crumbling awakening to what she had to do next, to what the rest of them had to not do. “The storm cellar is... is your last bet.”
“The cellar?” Applejack gulped. Another wail of bloodlusting throats. Another jolt. Apple Bloom was sobbing now. “But Miss Harmony—”
“These creatures are not of this world—Not of this time,” Harmony snarled. “I cannot emphasize enough how much the Court of Canterlot rebukes them. But unlike the Court, I'm not about to let this family suffer for their incidental presence here. You are all ponies of the earth, Miss Applejack. So give yourselves to the earth. Let us go into the cellar. Let us go into the depths of your land. The trolls will want to follow us, but we won't let them. They don't deserve it; they've never worked for it. They can only envy it. It's the one thing they cannot fight for, but we can. Let's move now, Miss Applejack—before they kill us for our hesitance. And they will kill us, AJ. They will.”
Apple Bloom hiccuped, her face nuzzled into Granny Smith's embrace. The elder mare was staring at her two older grandchildren more than she was paying attention to the pegasus. As the world throttled to a maddening cacophony of hate around them, it would take the simplest of sputtering voices to open the door to a new chapter of desperation.
“V-very well, Miss Harmony.” Applejack found the strength to say. “You've done us all right so far.”
“Now do yourselves some more right.” Harmony firmly stared in her direction and motioned towards the blunt weapon in Macintosh's trembling grasp. “Give me the shovel.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Applejack led the charge. The caravan was a floundering caterpillar of stumbling hooves; the whole family lurched and tripped over starlit grass, the entire earth shuddering beneath them from the waves upon waves of lurching leather feet closing in from all shadowed sides. The pale doors to the storm cellar lingered just beyond several stacks of impregnable hay, like an impromptu fortress built over weeks of desperate sweat and anxiety.
“What's yer pl-plan?” Applejack asked, gulping. “We keep Granny Smith and Apple Bloom inside while the rest of us form a defensive circle?”
“Something like that, sure,” Harmony murmured, her eyes pressed to the black orchards echoing horrifically beyond.
“Yer words have stuck to me like icicles, Miss Harmony,” the orange mare briefly whimpered as Macintosh jumped ahead of the pack and fumbled with the cellar's doorhandles. “I never saw myself as the type to spill blood, to kill for the sake of stayin' alive. And I secretly hoped I never would.” She gulped and gazed at the “clerk” with trembling lips. “Please tell me it'll have been worth it—That it'll have been worth savin' this farm and its reputation for.”
“I can't pretend to tell you anything, AJ,” Harmony somberly said. She glanced over at a tear-stained Apple Bloom perched atop the wobbling Smith. The child's crimson mane floundered and flew as she twisted her panicked face every which way to ascertain the locations of the incoming nightmares. “I never wanted the ruination of your farm. But I didn't want this blood bath all the same. Whatever happens—you and Big Macintosh must do what I say. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, I d-do, Harmony.” Applejack surrendered to the gray shadows wafting off of her, jumping as another siren of sadistic screams warbled their way. “I-I trust you, sugarcube. Oh Goddess help me, I trust you.”
Harmony said nothing.
With a gust of dead grass, the cellar doors finally yanked open. After a shuddering breath, Macintosh whistled shrilly towards the rest of his family. He gently held Granny Smith's hoof as she limped down the dark, dark steps after a briskly jogging Apple Bloom. A whimpering Winona scampered into the safe crevice of darkness as the little foal stopped halfway down the stairs and hissed desperately for the elder to follow her, to hold her—so she could hold her back under those rising tremors that only intensified once they had billowed down into the claustrophobic chamber of the earth.
“Applejack!” Granny Smith called up from beneath the deafening bedlam. “It's darker than sin down here! Do you remember where the lanterns are hangin'?”
“Oh blast it all!” Applejack sneered under a panicked breath. “Miss Harmony, this will only take a second.” She literally flew down the steps and into the cold blackness below. “Wait up, Granny! I'll light it in a jiffy!”
The time traveler's answer to this was a spastic lurch, upon the end of which the rusted spade in her grip inexplicably fell down the shadowed cellar steps after her. “Whoops—Friggin' A. Hey, Mister Macintosh—would you be a gentlecolt and fetch that for me?”
The red stallion glanced nervously at Harmony, at the shuddering shadows hellishly blanketing the horizon, then down the cold cellar steps. With a polite nod of his blonde mane, he trotted down, bent low, and picked the handle of the spade up in strong teeth. The slamming noise that emanated above and behind him stabbed his green eyes wide, just in time for him to stare stupidly into the sudden glow of the cellar's orange light.
Applejack stood, frozen, her forelimbs having just lit the dangling lanterns beside Granny Smith and Apple Bloom. “M-Macky?” she stammered, blinking icily. “What gives? Where is...” She gasped, her orange face exploding as she suddenly darted up the steps. “Miss Harmony!”
Macintosh breathlessly spun as Applejack soared up past him, slamming her hooves, her snout, the full muscled brunt of her neck into the solid wooden door suddenly burying the hapless quartet of the Apple Family.
“Nnngh! Miss Harmony, no! Ya can't do this on yer lonesome, darlin'! Ya just can't! You'll die! For the love of Elektra, let me and Macintosh out!”
She pounded and pounded until her limbs stung with the same ferocity as her lungs. In a paralyzing shudder, she glanced her brother's way and motioned with her blonde head. Macintosh nodded back. Dropping the shovel with a loud clatter, the heavy stallion charged thunderously up the steps and slammed the full brunt of his muscular red body into the flimsy wooden door.
To everypony's horrified gasps, it still didn't budge. Macintosh tried again and again, but soon he stopped—gazing along with his sister as the starlit cracks in the cellar lid's frame were blocked with massive objects from beyond.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With a breathless grunt, Harmony finished tossing the last of several heavy haystacks onto the body of the sealed door. Her Entropan body allowed her to construct a blockade that no normal pony—much less four of them—could ever hope to dislodge. Under the cresendo of the bleeding night, she backtrotted and shouted towards the frame:
“Stay in there, Miss Applejack! This is not your war! This bloodshed is not meant for you! It never has been!”
“Let us help you!” A muffled voice drawled desperately from the womb of the earth. “They'll rip you apart, Harmony! You can't do it on yer own!”
“It's not a matter of what I can or can't do!” Harmony shouted back. The rumbling world shook, so that she danced numbly a half-meter above the ground, unworthy of coming down. “It's a matter of what I must! Stay with your family, stay with—”
The rumbling suddenly stopped. A gray vapor cooled the throbbing void of the night, cascading around her with the haunting grace of Wasteland snow. Harmony spun about, and she froze.
Leather bodies, dozens upon dozens of leather bodies: over a hundred trolls stood in a stone-still crescent moon of deadly glares all around the cellar's entrance, bearing splintery weapons and flickering red torches, gazing and drooling at the chronologically displaced meat suddenly plopped down in the ravenous midst of them. The monsters stared—all of the monsters stared into her amber eyes, reflecting a kaleidoscope of so many years of running and fleeing from these bloodmongering seeds of chaos.
For once in an ashen eternity, the last pony stayed put.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Applejack...” Apple Bloom whimpered and sauntered up to her sister, tugging on her legs. “Wh-what's Miss Harmony doing? Is she going to be alright?”
Macintosh shuddered, his face stuck in a permanent wretch. Winona cowered in the corner, her canine eyes shrunken as her tail swished-swished in sad arcs across the dusty floor. Granny Smith fell into a shroud of silence, her gray eyes locked onto a shadowed truth beyond the tremblings heads of her inferiors.
“Is M-Miss Harmony going to be okay?” Apple Bloom repeated with a helpless sniffle.
“I... I-I don't know,” Applejack spoke. Trotting back from the dark cellar door and the horrible sounds suddenly sirening from beyond, she fell down to her knees and scooped the sobbing foal into her forelimbs. For the first time in her young adult life, she couldn't tell if she was being honest or not. “I just d-don't know.”
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Nine new chapters?
Ooh boy, this will be a looong night
One minor factual error in this: Angel is male. And why does everyone always have the characters call him "Angel Bunny" in their fanfics? On the show, I've only ever heard him just called "Angel".
88257
That's like asking why everyone has the mane 6 flaunt the fact that they represent an element of harmony when in the show they only mention it in the season premiere episodes.
Anyway, at you, Mr. Author person: I don't know what it is about this fic but its amazing and depressing at the same time
While reading this so far, I have never felt so happy to be sad
None the less I love it all the same.
the funeral scene nearly squeezed a manly tear...
... It's Pinkie time
The beginning of this chapter confused the heck out of me my first time through. But then I decided to come back to this chapter after I finished the arc and my brain exploded
Damn you Spike! All his fancy talking has got me thinking. When someone dies they just relive their entire life. Just with different outcomes. I also have a theory. In the first chapter while RD is saving Scootaloo she mentions someone named Harmony. Saying that she will know what to do. I think that RD was taking about the future Scootaloo on Harmony's body.
The "spelled of" part seems like an error...dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/shrug_Twilight_Sparkle.png
1410796
No, I can assure you...that can be phrased that way and still be accurate. After all, have you never heard the phrase: "It will spell out our doom?"
Wow, this story actually has something funny happy.
Says the man thats been reading up until past midnight. Derp
To quote Mentally advanced: "I WILL SWING THE SHOVEL!!"
This took me way too long to get out... Oh well; almost to the end of the AJ arc!