//------------------------------// // Stormy Meditations // Story: Petalback // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// Through gaps in the canopy, nothing but dark grey could be seen while the Everfree clouds eclipsed the sky, smothering everything from horizon to horizon and sparing only the innocent glow of distant Ponyville. On occasion, a bough or a whole tree flashed by overhead, yet the lowly treetops merely swayed as though drunkenly cheering on the coming monster. This time, Twilight crept carefully over the fallen twigs and pebbles of the leaf litter, horn pulsing with a starlight dot of magic. She could feel Spike pressing up against her shoulder, but wasn’t sure if the trembling was mostly his or mostly hers. Neither of them stopped glancing at the shadows or at each other. For the Everfree, it was quiet and dead. Given the kind of creatures living within it, neither was much comfort. “You didn’t have to come,” whispered Twilight to him out of the corner of her mouth. She didn’t want to take her eyes off the walls of thorn and leaf. “F-Funny,” he managed to say through his chattering teeth. “I-I was going to s-s-say the same thing to y-y-y-you.” The evidence bags hovered before her. “I’ve got the cuttings she needs. I had to come.” Spike held up his pen and the scroll, waving them briefly. A distant howling cut through the ever-present screaming winds above them, and he gasped and tried curling up tighter against her. “I’m not sc-sc-scared,” he said. “It’s… uh… ch-chilly. Th-That’s all. N-Not that it b-b-bothers m-m-me, but you don’t have sc-sc-scales to keep out the c-c-c-cold.” Twilight opened her mouth to correct him. Something slid through the undergrowth a foot away. She shut her mouth again. “Very thoughtful,” she squeaked. It was soon impossible to tell whether it was night time, though she was sure they couldn’t have walked for more than a few minutes. Only when they entered the clearing and saw two glowing yellow eyes like skulking suns did they sigh with relief. “At least she’s in,” Twilight said. Her glowing horn brightened, revealing the edges of the post-mounted masks scattered about. “Hopefully, we’re about to get some answers.” As they approached, however, Spike stuck out a warning arm to block her path. Neither of them moved. “What is it?” she whispered. “Shh!” Spike placed his claws over her muzzle. “I hear something.” Twilight cocked an ear. Now that she was concentrating, she could detect a muffled sound poking through the air. She narrowed her eyes. They sounded like voices. “Guests?” She cocked her head quizzically. “But who could that be?” The muffled voice continued. Spike tugged on Twilight’s elbow. “There’s someone else in there,” he hissed. “Come on! Let’s get going before they find us!” “In there?” Shock overtook her ears and kicked her in the head. “Spike! No! We can’t just leave Zecora to… to whatever it is. Anyway, you don’t know who or what it could be.” The horrible muffled burbling cut through a little more keenly this time. Spike stiffened, and then caught her glare and sucked in a breath. “OK, OK. But if it’s trouble, we turn tail and run, right?” Twilight’s horn glowed a little brighter. Both of them approached the doorway, crouched to pounce. From inside the hut, someone swallowed, a full and squelchy sound as though forcing down a small boulder. They could almost hear the slimy straining of the throat when it went down. Whoever it was chose that moment to groan. Twilight’s magic glowed around the handle. She nodded. Spike grimaced, but waggled his clenched fists in the air, arched his back to pounce, and nodded. Then Pinkie’s voice groaned, “Oooooooh! This stuff is super baaaaad…” Both of them slumped and mouthed “phew” to each other. They knocked twice on the door in unison. When Zecora opened it and cast her frown to the outer world, they waggled their items and grinned. “Sorry to barge in unannooouuunced!” cooed Twilight. Spike wiped his brow using the back of his hand. “We wanted to talk to you. This isn’t a bad time, is it?” Zecora’s frown blunted itself to a smile. “No need to fret; I’ve finished now With Pinkie Pie, the silly clown: Her tummy’s full, her face a frown, From all the food she’s gobbled down.” Behind her, Pinkie sat up to the wooden table and whimpered, clutching a stomach large enough for a sack of toys at Hearth’s Warming Eve. Groaning, it trembled as waves flashed over the surface. She clutched it tightly and head-butted the tabletop. “Too many cakes,” she murmured. “And cookies… and muffins… and doughnuts… and crumbles… and turnovers… and… ow… piiieees…” Zecora bustled over to the shelves and bustled back to place a vial on the table, slightly ahead of Pinkie’s slumped locks. “You only have yourself to blame. Eating banquets – of all the shame! I have a cure, but better still For when confronting laden tills Of sugared foods – unhealthy swill! – Would be you learning strength of will!” “Can’t… hear you,” mumbled Pinkie into the wooden surface. “Too rumbly in the tumbly…” Zecora shook her head, jangling her earrings before noticing the pair hovering by the door. “Come in, come in, you’re welcome here. Inside this hut, no need to fear: The caravan of storm and stress Will never strike a place this blessed. Those masks outside protect my tree, Along with any company Who rest within. Come warm yourselves! You’d like some treatment from my shelves?” Closing the door behind her, Twilight took a breath. Sorry, Zecora. This isn’t going to be a happy visit. Gently, she levitated the evidence bags over to the table and placed them next to the vial, ignoring the way Zecora’s smile faded at the sight. “I think we’ve had a breakthrough,” said Twilight, “but it raises more questions than it answers.” Pinkie forced her face up to look. “What’s… broken… through? Can I… fix it?” Zecora shushed her gently and peered closer. “These golden grains are from the flower? I’m sorry, friend. I must be dour, For I have neither skill nor power To tell the nature of that flower.” For the first time in hours, Twilight realized her eyeballs were burning. She hadn’t noticed it in the forest, not when the rest of her had been burning with fear and doubt, and twitching at every shifting shadow. But now she could see a future full of Zecora’s fury aiming directly at her face. “Neither did I, at first,” she said. “The tests didn’t work no matter what I tried. But…” I was worried about Spike. So much mucus pouring out of his nose every second we were there! He’s OK away from it, but then it gets worse whenever he’s around that thing! It’s doing something to him! I know it! “…I thought it best to examine the pollen. Most of it was just that, but there were a few strains of something else mixed in.” “There’s a fungus in there too!” shouted Spike, hopping on the spot. “We caught it! That is what’s in the bag right now! Those are its spores! We were looking in the wrong place the whole time! I’m a genius!” “Spike!” snapped Twilight. “Well, I suggested we take a look, didn’t I? OK, OK.” He waved a hand airily. “And Twilight helped too, I guess, doin’ her chemo-thingy. But I told her we should check as much as possible to be sure, right Twilight?” Zecora pursed her lips. “A fungal spore? How can this be? It clearly was a plant to me.” “It’s both,” said Twilight. “Maybe it’s nothing, but in any case it gives us a potential opening for future hypothesis testing. I wanted to know what you could make of it.” Feeling this was slightly too bossy, she added, “Uh, please.” At the table, Pinkie’s wobbling hooves eased across for the vial. They ignored the stopper being yanked out by her teeth, looked away when she spat it out – it bounced off the floor – and then tried not to listen to the chugging that followed. After the chugging stopped, Zecora disappeared into a side room behind a tiger-skin curtain. “Please seat yourselves beside the Pie,” came her voice from behind it. “I’ll bring some special tea that I Had put aside for future visits. I think you’ll find it quite exquisite!” Spike and Twilight shrugged to each other and sat down. To Spike’s left, Pinkie was rising from the table and her cheeks were bulging distressingly. Both of them shuffled an inch away from her. “You feeling better, Pinkie?” tried Spike. She merely nodded, tightening her lips. “Haha, that must have been a king-sized banquet if it could stop the likes of you!” “Spike, don’t make fun of her,” said Twilight, who’d suspected the same thing. To the curtain and the crashing of iron and plates, she continued, “I’m not sure what to make of that plant, if I’m honest. I’m hoping – really, honestly hoping – it’s nothing worse than a hemiparasite.” Zecora called back from her side room, “A parasite I know, but not The ‘hemi’ kind, else I forgot.” “I mean that it’s obviously taking nutrients from Fluttershy, but if it’s absorbing sunlight, then that suggests it’s photosynthesizing. Like mistletoe. It might simply take what it wants and then wilt and disappear. Once it’s shed its spores and pollen grains, that’s more or less it. But I can’t shake the feeling that the fungus changes it somehow.” A grunt came from the room, followed by sloshing water. “In any case, the real trouble Is quarantined within the bubble. No, Twilight, now you’d better turn To Rainbow’s being taciturn To Fluttershy, and Flutter’s sadness Convincing her she caused the madness.” Zecora strode in, balancing four cups along her spine. Twilight levitated them off her. One for each, she thought, and she watched them land neatly before each pony when Zecora joined the table. “What do you mean?” said Twilight. “That plant’s the biggest issue at the moment.” Spike and Pinkie took tentative sips first, Pinkie wincing when her stomach growled in complaint. No one spoke for a while, all four of them taking a long draught before placing their mugs down in unison. “I understand, but you must see,” said Zecora, “That once we have that remedy, A friendship problem will remain Between two mares who’d both disdain To hurt each other, yet who wince. We must make efforts to convince These two good friends to reconcile And not lose sight of what’s worthwhile.” Easier said than done, thought Twilight. Nevertheless, she stared at the gold grains under the sheen of the plastic evidence bags. Although Applejack and Rarity had dropped by every now and then, and Pinkie had – until the last few hours – poked her head through the window or the chimney or the mouse hole in Fluttershy’s den, Rainbow hadn’t visited the cottage at all. Knowing my luck, there’s probably a connection. “Zecora, do you think this plant could be responding to their emotions? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” An almighty belch ripped through the air. Spike, Twilight, and Zecora shielded their mugs as best they could. The evidence bags tumbled onto the woody floor. One vial bounced and tinkled after it. Finally, Pinkie patted herself on the barrel belly, which deflated. “Huh. It was all gas. Who knew?” “Wow!” yelled Spike. “Even Big Mac couldn’t top that belch, even with all the fizzy apple cider he drinks. That’s a record! I gotta write this down! Can you do it again? I wanna know the technique you used.” “Don’t use the –” Twilight sighed at the scratching of his pen. “That paper was for serious study! This isn’t important!” “Relax. I’ll leave some space. Besides, I’m the official scribe, aren’t I? You’re not the boss of me.” For such a little dragon, he could certainly make his grin go far. Shaking her head, Zecora continued, “I do not know, but maybe so. That trait would not surprise me, though; In all my travels, I have found Emotion makes the world go round. For magic rests on inner life And little could compete with strife Between two friends, for feelings strong Can change the world for right or wrong.” “Oh.” Twilight peered into the ripples of her mug, trying to find something in the blank eyes, the dull mouth, or the drooping ears peering back. “There’s magic in there, true, but nothing’s guaranteed. I don’t know what it means yet.” After a much weaker belch to clear the throat, Pinkie tapped the tabletop. “Oh, I met all kinds of strange creatures when I was just an itty-bitty little filly out on the rock farm. Anything that tries to eat rocks has to be strange, doncha think?” Wisely, Twilight refrained from commenting at this point. “I remember you telling us stories, Pinkie,” said Spike, who’d diplomatically noticed Twilight’s example. “Like the parasprites you led away from all your crops with polka music. I always wondered where you picked up your musical talents from.” “Aw, aren’t you a gem?” Pinkie patted him on his head, flattening his green spikes. “As in a ‘nice little dragon’! I mean it’s obvious you’re not a real gem, though your scales are very shiny, and your head’s shaped kinda like a cabochon. I learned that one from Rarity!” “Thanks!” said Spike. To Twilight, he whispered, “That’s a good thing, right?” “And if magic monsters can be put in a funk by a bit of folk polka playing, maybe plants can be too! Hey, I deserve a cookie for that.” Hoof thudded tabletop. “Waiter, cookies for three please! One for me, one for myself, and one for I!” Zecora rolled her eyes. “You’ve barely swallowed down my cure And now you’re looking out for more? Perhaps I’ll chant a mystic rite And take away your appetite.” Grinning, Zecora began to mutter under her breath until Pinkie waved a hoof urgently. “You wish to speak, Miss Pinkie Pie?” “Uh,” Pinkie said, her mouth chuckling while her eyes tried to have nothing to do with it. “On second thought… I suppose I could… simply be happy I said something helpful. You know? For its own sake?” Chuckles met her in kind from Zecora’s lips. “No need to fret; I would not ply My humble trade to take your pleasure Of food away, if that’s your treasure. Although I hope you’ll take it easy, Or else you’ll end up feeling queasy.” Again, Twilight found herself peering into her mug. “I know about their friendship problem, and if it’s a factor, then I can’t ignore it. But I don’t know how to deal with it either. Fluttershy refuses to go see Rainbow Dash when I talk to her about it. I don’t want to let them drift apart, but I can’t force them to get along.” “O most noble and wise, Twilight!” Pinkie winked at her, and then downed her mug in one go. Once she’d slammed it down, she hummed with joy and continued, “Now you know what the problem is, knowing is half the cure! What next? Ooh, ooh! Maybe a song and a dance will get them to change their minds? Everyone lightens up when there’s a chance for a chant, and we could make up lines for a sing-along, like ‘O Rainbow Dash, don’t be so brash, just hear your heart, and be a part, of a warm and wonderful, deep and powerful, sweet and magical frieeeendshiiiiip’ –” Warningly, Zecora shook her head and shushed her into silence. Outside the hut, the howling winds rose to a roaring tide. So much peace had settled around the cauldron fire, the steaming mugs, and the soothing scents of exotic perfumes and potions that this forced its way in and jolted them awake. “I don’t think a song’s going to help, Pinkie,” said Twilight, while next to her Spike glanced at the windows and shuddered. “For something like this, you need a disinterested third party. Someone who won’t be influenced by their feelings.” “Eh? I wouldn’t go that far,” said Pinkie warily. “I mean, you need to take some interest in the problem, right?” “No, it means –” “It means trying to get a clear view of things without, you know, making any assumptions or having a personal stake in it,” piped up Spike. “Disinterested isn’t the same as uninterested. Of course we’re interested in helping them! We just don’t want to make any mistakes. It’s like being dispassionate. Er… or calm. Level-headed? Ah, you know what I mean. Twilight taught me that one when I was in Canterlot.” Why is he interrupting me? Despite her better, cooler thoughts, Twilight seethed under the boiling waters coming up her chest. He doesn’t have to show off all the time. And it’s rude to butt in. All mugs emptied, Zecora disappeared into the side room and then reappeared with a plate of brownies on her back. This time, Twilight made a point of placing them on the opposite side from Pinkie Pie, who drooped and moaned at the treats beyond her. “Regardless of their inner strife, And though it gives that plant some life, It would be wise to wait them out So that your words will have more clout. Though friendship is a fragile gift, It’s up to them to heal the rift; For only once they’ve grasped the difference Would it be wise to grant assistance.” Twilight took a deep breath and stuffed a brownie in her mouth. It tasted herbal, almost minty; as she chewed, the sugar rushed down her jaw and her mouth lightened with a fresh, cleansing air permeating her soft, fleshy insides. A pink leg slithered up from under the table and wormed over to the brownies. Zecora glared at it until it stopped, and then glared at Pinkie until she withdrew the leg. For a few seconds, they listened to the roaring outside. Branches whipped each other. Distant creatures cried out in a cacophony of panic. Finally, the roar subsided. Zecora, turning to Twilight, sighed and weighed a brownie on her hoof. “A storm now rages inside you. Twilight, my friend; what can I do?” Twilight didn’t dare look at Spike. “It’s nothing.” The hum in reply carried the low note of disbelief. “In any case, there are no harms To seek, in silence, sweetened balms; Perhaps you’d like to meditate And so achieve a calmer state.” “Oh, it’s going to be one of those sessions,” said Spike, and he rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll help clean up, in that case. Never been one for sitting around doing nothing. Unless it’s sleeping, natch.” Walking around the two of them, Spike picked up the mugs and stacked them on his hands. Pinkie cast a glance to the others, followed him into the side room, and yelled something indistinct when Zecora shook her head irritably. Twilight closed her eyes. Guiltily, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d visited Zecora for tea. Ah, me. This is like old times. How long has it been? Weeks? Months? “Breathe in…” murmured Zecora. Twilight’s chest strained before the swelling lungs. She forced her ribs to expand that little bit further. Just like they used to teach in Canterlot before exams… “Breathe out…” Shoulders slumped, head bowed down, and stomach crumpled and aching, Twilight let out what felt like burning air and squirmed a little inside. Can you actually feel bad breath? It was too much like school again. She’d only wanted to try out that calming technique, all those years ago, yet she could feel the memories in her muscles trying to force her into a ball. They didn’t have to chuckle under their breaths. Those leg-stretching exercises were important to help visualize the movement of air to and fro. So what if they looked a little funny? I mean, I didn’t care. It worked. Why should I have cared how it looked? “…and concentrate,” intoned Zecora. Something made of iron crashed in the side room. Straining not to growl, her voice continued: “Detach yourself; achieve a state In which you are outside your self.” They both distinctly heard a “whoops” and a second crash. Zecora took another, much huffier breath before continuing normally. “A calm mare browsing library shelves All filled with thoughts, your secret dreams, Your moods, your loves, your conscious streams, All of your life. But only look; You are the reader, not the book.” I am the reader, I am the reader, Twilight thought. The echoes of classroom sneers faded, but she could sense them nearby, ready to jump into her mind again. Detach yourself. You are not the book. “Ow!” Spike yelled out. She almost bit her tongue. “You OK in there, Spike?” she shouted. “I’m peachy! Just dropped something on my foot. Don’t mind us.” Pinkie said something, but with her mouth utterly stuffed, not a word made it out in one piece. Beside Twilight, Zecora muttered something sharp in her native tongue. Spike’s a dragon. Don’t worry about him. Dragons are strong. He says it often enough. She opened her eyes, and cursed herself for breaking ranks. Still, she’d never quite grasped meditation. Every time she saw the effortless way that, say, Zecora could balance on a stick while humming to herself, something hot and prickly savaged the inside of her chest. “Zecora, can I ask you a few questions?” she said. “I don’t think this is something I can put off.” Apparently under her trance, the zebra’s closed eyes and mouth twisted up in a frown. “You always were a clingy mind. Tranquillity you cannot find By getting caught within the web Of life; such troubles flow and ebb –” “What happened the day you and Fluttershy went out into the Everfree?” She hadn’t meant it to come out as a snap, and instantly she softened her tone against the raised eyebrow. “I don’t care if I’m getting in too deep. I want to help. This is important.” To her surprise, she saw Zecora shrink slightly where she stood. One moment ago, the zebra had been towering, shining where her stripes were light and deepening to midnight purity where they were dark. Now, she was just a pony with funny colours. “I understand your great concern, But meditation helps you learn To stop attachment’s blinding glare: With neutral stance, yet still with care, Can one approach another’s plight; For scientists as for mystics, right?” “Will you please tell me what happened?” Twilight willed herself to be calm. You’re avoiding the question. And I know the old “change the subject and flatter me” trick. Spike uses it all the time. As though prompted by her errant thought, Spike chose that moment to push the tiger-skin curtain aside. “Hey, Zecora! Can I have these oatmeal cookies in the creepy mask box thing?” Zecora buried her face in her hooves. “My word, he’s caught her gluttony! Oh, if you must, but tell Pinkie She cannot snoop around my house And search for treats like she’s a mouse.” Spike smirked. “Oh, I didn’t need Pinkie to teach me how to eat. You should have seen what I was packing away when I was little. You remember when I ate your cousin’s wedding cake, Twilight? Haha, now that was a special event!” It was, thought Twilight sadly when he vanished again. It was one of the worst moments of my young life. Then again, he’d always been kind of self-sufficient: rooting out family jewel boxes from drawers, ignoring other ponies’ pets or showing fangs and claws to those that bothered him, sneaking out windows and opened doors to crawl around Canterlot for a warm roof to sleep on. Coming out of her reminiscence, she found Zecora’s face twisted up and her eyes downcast. “Twilight, I often search the Everfree For better kinds of remedy, For herbs and spices, roots and flowers, For medicines with magic powers. It’s only fair you understand That my intentions weren’t all grand. I wish to help, but that’s one part; I do it just because it’s art. You see me as a kindly nurse, But I’m afraid that I am worse Than I would seem. So I confess, Before I get this off my chest That it’s not easy to reveal A shameful side I could conceal.” Munching sounds from the side room did nothing to ruin the quiet stares they were giving the tabletop. Brightly, Twilight gave a cheesy grin. “Oh, come on, Zecora,” she said. “No one’s perfect. I’m sure you’d never do something, you know, bad –” She shut up under the calm stare Zecora raised from the table. Tendrils sparked behind her cheeks, and she realized she was blushing. Thankfully, Zecora’s lips eased into a smile. “I thank you for your strong belief That I would never cause you grief. Alas, if only it were true! Yet I must disillusion you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight could see the green scales peeking out from the doorway, not all hidden behind the tiger-skin curtain. Frantic shushing stopped the munching sounds. If Zecora could hear them, then she let nothing show on her face. “When I was but a tiny filly, The others thought that I was silly: Eating herbs that just weren’t food, Correcting tutors, being rude To anyone who didn’t know A bison from a buffalo. They stopped me brewing secret spells And stealing tools. I was expelled From classes, but I didn’t care. For I was cold and debonair. What did it mean to be alone? First chance I had, I ran from home And lived a charming nomad’s life Hitching lifts, avoiding strife. I had my potions, and my travel; My friends were grass and winds and gravel. I listened to the wisest mares, And always I applied my wares Until I was the greatest sage!” Breaking Twilight out of whatever spell she’d slipped into, Zecora turned her back to the unicorn. Her hoof eased over to the fallen evidence bag. Sighing, she scooped it up and peered at the golden contents under her snout. “Ah,” she muttered. “So much pride at such an age…” I know what you mean, thought Twilight. I could be like that too when I was at Celestia’s school. Aw, but Professor Dihydrogen Monoxide always gave me an extra gold star for my work. I can still smell the old chemical stink of the cauldrons we used to work on, and how I could make the flames any colour I wanted. She even put flasks up on the shelf with my name on the label. She said she even showed the older students what I’d created. Then her gaze caught Spike’s green sheen, and the smile died on her muzzle. Zecora half-ambled, half-hopped over to her workbench. Pushing aside mortars and glassware from pocket flasks to bucket-sized beakers, she laid the bag down and reached across for what looked like a crescent of iris-sized cabochons. She held their triangular brass frame clasped between frog and pastern, raising it like a fan, and then hunched over. From the table, Twilight couldn’t see what she was doing, but the zebra was stiff with concentration. “Eventually, I travelled here,” she said while she worked. “And what a paradise appeared To my young eyes! A florist’s range Where no plant was considered strange, Where rainbows shone upon the ground And prankster flowers could be found, Where meadows sang and forests lurked And farmers reaped all kinds of work! A garden fit for devotees Of herbal crafts and botanies. Of course, the ponies weren’t my friends; A stranger’s strangeness will offend Those of a nervous disposition. But why would I show them contrition? I was a harmless hermit type. My young ambition fresh and ripe. The Everfree was just the place To reach the end of wisdom’s race.” Twilight stuffed another brownie into her mouth. Not me. I didn’t need to run away from home. Why would I? I remember every hall in Celestia’s School. How the mares and stallions in white coats always stood around outside the lecture halls, never talking, just waiting to be let in. What wouldn’t I have given to go in after them? And when I got my pass, oh that day! That DAY! I found so many treasures: quantum mechanics, theories of evolution, the entire history of the geocentric revolution, all the secrets of minerals and stars and the pictures of ravens and dolphins solving complex mathematical puzzles for treats. The possibilities were endless! I would have given anything to be able to tell someone about it. Smarty Pants doesn’t count. She was just a doll. Mom and Dad were always busy. Celestia and Shining Armour had their duties. No one else cared. Spike certainly didn’t care. All he did was sleep and eat and scare us by wandering off when we weren’t expecting it. No! Don’t think about Spike back then! The curtain fluttered. Spike and Pinkie wandered back in, making Zecora spin around with a start. She was still holding the crescent. “Yummy cookies!” said Pinkie. Her tongue lashed out and whipped around her muzzle. “Now that’s a recipe for me! Hey, Zecora, if I bring some of the Cakes’ treats over one day, could we have a baked goods party? Everyone’s gotta try your stuff! It’s like waking up, even when you’re already awake!” Twilight and Zecora exchanged winces that said: probably best not to let that secret recipe get out. Either they’d queue out the door for more, or they’d give her funny looks when she visited town again. “Never mind her,” said Twilight, grinning. “Look, Zecora, I’m fascinated. Really, I am. But so what if you were a bit, well, uh… aloof back then? It’s different now. You’ve changed so much. You’ve got friends. You’re an amazing help to ponies who need cures. You’re one of the smartest pon – zebras I’ve ever met.” “Besides,” Spike said, “what does this have to do with Fluttershy anyway?” He wilted under the heat of Zecora’s glare. Around her face, red patches glowed. To Twilight’s surprise, the glare pinned her down where she sat too. “Have I, indeed? Zecora, changed? Then mark my words: don’t be deranged! You want to know what happened, then, To Fluttershy, your kindly friend? I asked if she could give me aid In case of creatures that had strayed Into the patch where I had sought To find new cures, or so I thought. You see, though I have mellowed since I still retain a shameful glimpse Of youthful pride, and careless haste Had prompted foolish me to waste A darkened evening in a region Where mystery and chance were legion!” No one dared to speak. Even Pinkie was pretending to be interested in a knothole on the wall. Outside, the winds roared up again. In a softer voice, Zecora continued, “Of course, I could resist my pride Enough to go with such a guide Who’d tamed great beasts and calmed the brutes; For though I could resist the roots Of evil plants, I’m not at home Resisting horrors that spit and foam. But creatures lurking in the dark Of Everfree are ever marked, Like poisoned storms, with local taint. They’re soon immune to our restraint. Yes! Fluttershy was not so keen To test her might, but I was mean And wanted only to be seen As one smart mare, not some has-been Who’d lost the art of alchemy To softer whims, so gallantry In Fluttershy was what I tried With subtle words to bring alive By calling it a friendly deed, Replacing ‘like’ and ‘want’ with ‘need’. She bowed her head, and soon agreed. My trickery beguiled the steed!” Spike opened his mouth, but then clamped it shut behind claws rising up to smother it. Under the flickering flames of the cauldron’s fire, Twilight could see his wide eyes shimmering. “But,” he quavered, “that’s not like you. Maybe you feel bad because it didn’t turn out great. So what? You were unlucky. Everyone gets unlucky some of the time. Take it from me: all you gotta do is get up, dust yourself off, and keep going!” Yes. You were good at that. Twilight could see him as a baby again. For one moment, he’d been snoozing on some belfry and ignoring her shouts and waving limbs. A few ponies of fine dresses and dapper dinner jackets had gathered around to watch, and she’d shouted louder and gnashed her teeth and growled, because he was making her look stupid. How dare he? She only had to take care of him for a few hours before one of the royal nursery ponies came to collect. Celestia had insisted she share a turn. It wasn’t fair. He never did this on anyone else’s watch. And then he came tumbling down from the purple spire of the Canterlot tower. No one was sure whether he’d slipped or whether he’d jumped off like the stupid dragon they’d said he was. He’d bounced off each sloping roof and projecting windowsill with a grunt each time, before he finally tumbled off the roof of a parked cart and hit the road. How she’d screamed! How she’d rushed forwards, wishing she’d never shouted a word at him, saying “sorry” over and over… …only to find him utterly unhurt by it. Crying his eyes out, and curling up into a ball, and batting hooves away whenever they tried lifting him up, but utterly unhurt. No broken bones. No bruises. Not so much as a weaker flame, as she’d soon found out while passing detector spells across him, feeling her face burning. Yet she’d still cried. Celestia would know: that had been the first thought popping into her filly head. Years later, she wished she’d thought something less selfish. “I’m with the dragon!” said Pinkie. “You’re a good friend, and that is that! There’s no way you’d be nasty to one of us. I bet Rainbow knew what you were doin’, am I right?” Zecora dumped the crescent onto her workbench and folded her front limbs. “Astute, aren’t you, Miss Pinkie Pie? I did hear sense from Fluttershy And so agreed to notify The one whose purpose was to fly And watch the Everfree for weather To make sure crises here would never Become a threat to Ponyville. Of course, who else would choose the thrill And who was there to watch the crash Of light and thunder?” “Rainbow Dash!” said Spike. Zecora nodded, but curtly, as though daring her own face to break up if she tried it with any enthusiasm. Beside her, Pinkie hopped up to the bench and lifted up the bag with both hooves, holding it up to the firelight. “So…” she said. “Watcher doin’? You got any sciency ideas? Eureka moment comin’ up? What a sweet word that is, doncha think? ‘Eureka’! Heeheehee. It sounds like ‘you reek ‘o’. Eureka doughtnuts! Eureka mud! Eureka someone chewin’ cud!” Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight noticed Spike taking a step backwards. Even after all her talks to him, he refused to get close to the bag and its contents. Zecora waved a hoof for the bag to be returned. Grinning sheepishly, Pinkie placed it on the workbench and whistled her way over to the shelves, where she pretended to be reading the labels. “I think I have a better clue,” said Zecora, sliding a book across the surface and opening it, “About this thing, but what to do? If in my journal it’s described, Perhaps old cures can be revived.” “Wow.” Pinkie tapped each bottle in turn. “Lots of cures. We could find anything here.” “Yeah!” Spike hopped onto her back, not noticing her grunt when he leaned on her mess of hair. “Hey, look at this one, Twilight! Fire seed extract. Sounds delicious!” “Spike!” Twilight snapped. “Don’t touch anything! You don’t know what it’s for!” “I wasn’t going to touch it,” he said, but he withdrew his claws all the same. “We’re only looking. Sheesh.” “Nevertheless, it’s too tempting for you to pick stuff up and ‘look at it’.” Twilight strode around the table and the cauldron to keep a better eye on the pair. “That’s Zecora’s property, and fragile and dangerous too. You don’t want an accident.” “That’s OK, Twilight.” Pinkie winked at her. “I got my eye on him.” She groaned as Spike shifted his weight on her withers. “No… accidents… on my watch. Ow.” “Sorry,” said Spike. “I wanted to look at the ones on top.” “Just don’t fall, OK?” said Twilight, and then wondered why she’d said it. Pinkie was hardly a towering figure, and besides, he’d shrugged off falls from ladders before. Still with her back to them, Zecora flicked a chunk of the book’s pages over. The wad of yellowing leaves snapped together. “I found the plant, and then decided To have a piece of leaf divided. I wanted to discover whether It was another priceless treasure. Ah me, how much did it excite To find the fruits of day and night Be so rewarded with a find? The joyful thrill had cursed my mind. Had I been but a little wary Of bounty in a place so scary, I never would have dropped my guard. Alas, I learned that lesson hard!” Bottles tinkled. When they both looked up, Spike folded his arms quickly. The last vial settled into place. “Sorry,” he muttered. Drops of sweat pricked Twilight’s brow. She could still hear the vial clinking against its fellows even after they’d all stopped… Keep away from those things, she thought desperately. She could almost feel her leg muscles stretching her forwards as though they were trying to re-enact the memory. She could hear her filly self thinking, Well, he is a dragon. He eats gems. He can’t be all that soft inside. She’d been delighted, practically singing her way around the small bedroom while tubes bubbled and the packets and jars lay empty all around her. So many new mixes and chemistry theories to explore! She still had the poster of the periodic table somewhere, not that it mattered when she could recite the whole thing without it. Perhaps her parents still kept her old chemistry set too, hidden away in the attic. She’d never found out, not after she’d locked it away. Nonetheless, that hadn’t happened yet, and she could now see the baby dragon sitting up on the bed. His bubble of a face had swirled with frowns and wide eyed wonder and winces while she’d lectured him happily about a potion that could give wings to those who drank it. He’d even copied her smirk when she’d told him the name she’d invented for it: the Sparkle-Spike Pseudopegasine Pteratrophic Elixir. “I used to get carried away with discovery all the time,” she murmured dreamily. Shaking herself awake, she added, “It’s OK, Zecora. I know where you’re coming from.” Too late, she noticed Pinkie shaking her head at her, lips thin and eyes wide. Beyond Spike’s oblivious perusal of the shelves, Zecora pressed a hoof against her forehead. “Too readily do you forgive,” she mumbled, “Though friendship’s your prerogative, Twilight, I fear you’re overreaching If you don’t think that you are teaching Others to dismiss their errors. You can’t imagine what grave terrors I’ve now unleashed upon your friends, For my own greedy, selfish ends.” “But I can!” insisted Twilight, taking a step towards her. “Celestia always taught me to be compassionate and to think about others, but I was too busy studying to take it seriously. It just sounded like wishy-washy sappiness to me. I didn’t make a single friend until I came to Ponyville. No pony’s perfect. Your own teachings say how important it is to accept that sometimes you’re going to do things you’ll later regret. Remember that book of ancient wise mares and gurus and healers and magicians and philosophers you showed me? It’s all in there.” The memory, having ebbed away from her words, now flowed over her mind once more. She’d lowered the spoon from young Spike’s dribbling mouth. “There,” she said. The filly levitated her clipboard and pen, adjusting the infant-sized collar of her lab coat costume. “Now we’re going to collect all sorts of scientific data. Start by telling me how you feel.” The baby dragon gurgled and groaned. Smoky wisps flickered out of his nostrils with each breath. “What’s that?” said the filly, scribbling this down. “Come on, I can’t write down my results if you don’t talk to me.” He opened his mouth again, and stuck out a forked tongue that was turning purple. Even through the officious shield of her playacting and the cotton stuffing of exciting dreams, panic sliced onwards and pricked her chest. Poison leaked out where it had hit. “Er… Spike? You OK?” she said. “You’re starting to sway a bit. Want a ruby gateau? I got one specially from Cinnamon Chai’s today.” To her horror, he flopped onto his side, clutched his stomach, and started grunting with effort. Bits of him were shaking. She saw the green ooze dribbling from his nose like a polluted creek. He was staring at nothing. “Spike! Stop it!” She began backing away, inching towards the door. How could he do this to her? He’d never reacted this way before. Not once had he done anything worse than burp. She only wanted to give him wings. He should’ve stomached it easily. She’d checked all the ingredients, all the books, all the professors’ written words after she’d interrogated them yesterday. She didn’t know what to do. It should have been safe. Then he began howling and rolling over the duvet. Twilight dropped her clipboard and galloped out onto the landing, yelling “MOM! DAD!” at the top of her lungs. It should have been safe for ponies, she realized later. By then, she was sitting outside the door, trying to hear what was going on inside, trying to forget the way her parents had looked at her, hoping against hope Celestia would never, ever find out. “Twilight?” said Pinkie. “You OK?” Everything blurred – pink and purple curled around each other amid splatters of brown and grey – and she hastily wiped her eyes. Twilight nodded. She didn’t dare try speaking against whatever had seized her throat now. “So… uh… what happened after that, Zecora?” said Spike, but she noticed him glance at her. Does he suspect? As though caught out, Zecora stopped staring at Twilight and hung her head low over the workbench. “What do you think? I tried to cut A piece to take back to my hut. My ignorance brought me too close. My arrogance dropped me a dose Of carelessness: I took the bait. The plant began to shift its weight. You can imagine how I screeched When roots and bulbs began to reach For my own face. A vicious cane! A thorny bridle, growing reins! Its stem now curling like a lash, Its flowers whipped round in a flash, And then its roots from ridge now hurdled At my face. How my blood curdled! When I saw that hairy feeler Rising up to me, a healer! Yet saved was I by Flutter’s speed, For when she saw a friend in need She did not pause, but pushed away My worthless self. Oh, woe the day! For being selfless, brave, and nice, Her curse is now my wretched price. By saving me from my own crime She may be cursed for endless time.” Twilight stared at Spike, yet somehow she wasn’t seeing him. She was seeing a gap over Pinkie’s head, a Spike-shaped hole that might never have been filled. Her parents hadn’t spoken to her for a week. Twilight never found out where exactly they’d taken him – the vet, the hospital, the academy’s healer department for volunteers – but she remembered hiding in her room with the curtains drawn up. Celestia’s school used to be her heaven. Now it had become a hell. Where once she’d have gotten polite smiles or at least uncaring faces, for that week there’d been suspicious looks and mutterings and the odd shouted curse. Even her tutors had flinched slightly on the two occasions when she’d dared raise a hoof in class. They’d let it pass by the end of the week. Spike had come back, apparently no worse for wear. She hadn’t heard what the strange stallion who’d returned him had said at the time. Presumably, she’d never wanted to hear it. And then one evening, her parents had spoken the dreaded words through the muffling bedroom door. Celestia had come at last. “May I come in, Twilight?” said the Princess. The filly squeaked a reply. Some stab of pride pushed her head out from under the duvet, but the sight of Princess Celestia standing in her sorry excuse for a bedroom kept the covers up to her chin. “You understand why I’m here, Twilight Sparkle.” Her voice wasn’t cold, but it didn’t remind her of sunlight or crackling hearths. It was as if death itself could speak: flat, monotone, matter-of-fact. Too shaken to speak, Twilight nodded instead. She noticed how the Princess’ gaze flitted over to the empty chemistry set. She didn’t dare touch it anymore. Princess Celestia held a steady gaze. “I will not frighten you with further punishment – as I understand it, your parents and peers have already taken care of that – but I must help you understand how serious your actions were.” Twilight wanted to say “I know”, but the words barely managed to reach her throat. Perhaps if she was still and silent enough, this week would end faster. “I understand your frustrations in looking after Spike. Ignorance about dragon mores and habits is regrettably a common theme, despite many attempts to handle them. Even my Canterlot caretakers experience trouble while looking after him. I admit I was unsure how you’d manage; young as you are, you possess a tremendous amount of talent and skill. Better yet, my tutors inform me that your spark burns brightly in the classroom. Rest assured, whatever else happens, you are still my protégé, and I still see a dedicated pupil worthy of my time.” Twilight was still looking away, but now the strain made her neck throb and her eyes water. Princess Celestia being nice was worse than any shouting. She could feel her chest crushing itself, trying to squeeze herself out of the world. “However,” continued the dead voice, “this is not behaviour I can tolerate. When we agreed to our current arrangement, I offered to take Spike off your hooves so that you would not feel overwhelmed. You declined. You agreed to take care of him to the best of your ability, on the condition that you’d seek my help if it became too much for you.” The sigh, the brief calm before the rumble of the darkening sky… “With that in mind, would you please explain why you did this?” She didn’t remember anything afterwards but the dam bursting in her chest. Something inside her broke, and kept breaking. Her eyes were melting and her face puffy and raw. A slender limb embraced her round the head. “I don’t know…” she moaned. “I don’t know…” “Shh,” soothed the voice, more warmly than before. “Spike…” was all she could say before her words stretched into nothing but long, painful groans. “I understand. You and Spike have a special relationship,” she heard Celestia say somewhere over her head. “Your ability to hatch his egg when no one else could wasn’t just an act of powerful magic. Whatever else happens, you two were meant to be together. You understand that now, don’t you?” She did. She had. But weeks had gone by, and then months, and then years, and to her horror, she realized she’d forgotten it several times since. Glass smashed on the floor. Zecora broke out into a stream of exotic cursing. Blinking, Twilight peered down at the shards radiating from Pinkie’s hooves. Both she and Spike grimaced at the mess. “Sorry,” he said. “Um… I could pay for it?” “I’ll clean it up,” said Twilight at once, horn already glowing. The gold, oozing liquid rose up and curled into a shimmering purple ball until she could summon an empty vial from the bench. It slid inside and floated up to the gap on the shelf. Staring up at the shelf, Zecora stuck out a hoof. “A moment, Twilight, if you please Would pass that sunflower oil to me?” Twilight levitated the vial over to her before Zecora shook her head and pointed at another one. Spike hopped up and grabbed it – making Pinkie wince when he landed on her head and then on her back – to carry it over. “You got an idea?” he said. “Thank you Spike. I think I’ve got A theory that explains a lot. But let me test these golden spores Before I tell you any more. Twilight, please would you use your magic To stop events from turning tragic?” No one spoke while Zecora held up the bag. Twilight focused, opened up the zip lock, watched Zecora’s head tilt, and levitated a few grains into the dish. Twilight and Spike exchanged glances while the zebra then tipped the sunflower oil over the lot. Pinkie scratched her shoulder with a back hoof. “As I suspected…” murmured Zecora. Fizzing noises bubbled out of the dish. Twilight hurried forwards in time to see the golden dust blacken and sizzle under the oil. Soon, nothing was left but a few ashes under a gold veneer. Zecora turned around. “Seems to me This is a fungus happily Growing on a sunflower host That’s been corrupted so it’s most Hospitable for its new guest. Such parasites will often best The hard defences of their prey. We have gallfungus here today.” “Gallfungus?” Twilight shook her head. “The name sounds familiar, but I’m not sure why.” “Oh, that’s not good,” moaned Spike, clutching his cheeks. All faces turned to him. “I heard one of my Canterlot caretakers mention it once. There was a plague in the Canterlot Botanical Gardens centuries ago. It wiped out a whole load of plants, and then disappeared. No one ever found out where it came from.” “How do you –” Twilight began, and then bit her tongue back. “I mean, what else do you know?” “I don’t know anything else! It was just something they mentioned once. They didn’t say anything about it infecting ponies!” “Uh… Can it infect ponies?” Pinkie quavered, backing away from the bench. “There were only five possible infectees nearby before I put the plant under a shield spell.” Twilight peered at the leftover spores in the bag. “I don’t think so. Gallfungus… gallfungus… Zecora, do you have a mycological guidebook, by any chance?” One was dutifully placed on the bench. Twilight skimmed the pages, ignoring the three looking over her withers. She knew what she was looking for now. Catching a fragment of the word, she slapped the page down and ran her gaze along the text. “It’s a plant parasite.” She tapped the paragraph emphatically. Unlike the other entries, there was no accompanying picture. “Gallfungus can’t infect an animal directly, so it transforms its plant host and converts it into a parasite on its behalf. That means we should be safe from direct infection, but… that doesn’t explain the spores.” “Why not?” said Pinkie. “Because,” said Spike, “spores are how funguses make more funguses. They’re like really little seeds. We can’t be infected, so it’s pointless shedding ‘em around us. How come there’s no picture of this thing? That would help.” “It wouldn’t help us much,” said Twilight. “The gallfungus has no fruiting body. It’s entirely a network of rhizomorphic filaments. It’d just look like a load of tangled netting.” She and Spike breathed a sigh of relief until Pinkie pointed and said, “What’s that bit?” Following her leg, Twilight read onwards. Her ears drooped the further she went. Over her shoulder, she heard Spike gasp, and then he gripped her foreleg tightly. “Zecora?” said Twilight in the slow, deliberate air of one trying to stop their heart exploding. “When you found the plant, was it growing on anything? You know… in particular?” “You mean the boulder coloured white That was half-buried at the site?” Twilight’s brain tried not to think about what it was doing while her mouth moved on. “Did it have lumps and stripy gaps, by any chance?” Even as she spoke, she could almost imagine the site in her mind. There must have been a misshapen mass of mud, a window open on top where the plant had abandoned it, and, through that window, a corrugated white bulge with more mud running down the strip-like gaps. Behind her, Zecora hummed to herself. “How interesting. That’s what I saw. But what conclusion can you draw?” Everyone knew the stories, thought Twilight, her insides fizzing and melting away. Ponies go into the forest, but none come out. And the last time that storm hit, there must have been pegasi caught and thrown in. It doesn’t even have to be the plant’s fault: anything could’ve happened in that forest. But then how does that explain the Devil’s Garden? If it really wasn’t the plant’s fault, then it should have ended up anywhere, not right in the middle of a clearing. “I think I know how this thing works,” she whispered, forcing them to draw closer and cast shadows over the book. “The guide says the gallfungus converts a host plant and then has the plant attach to a rich source of nutrients. In other words, a living animal. A lot of tropical fungal species can manipulate their infected host into behaving differently, the better to suit the fungus itself. Usually, that means the host starts acting irrationally or dangerously.” “But Fluttershy hasn’t been acting like that,” said Pinkie. Twilight shook her head. “Not yet. I think we’d better get back to her, though. A fungus needs its host to give it the right conditions to live in. Do you know what this means?” Spike gasped. “It’s gonna make Fluttershy go back into the forest?” “Yes, at least if it wants the right conditions.” Outside, the winds began to roar again. Branches whipped against each other. Crashing and distant explosions sounded like boulders being thrown around. As one, they looked at the front door. “And then?” said Pinkie, who quickly bit a hoof. Should I tell them? Zecora’s already beating herself up over it. Perhaps I should gloss over those particular details… I don’t want anyone to start panicking. “Fortunately, there is a cure,” she said. “Zecora, look at this section.” “I see.” Everyone moved aside to let the zebra scan the pages. For a moment, her eyes narrowed. Does she know what I’m avoiding? Twilight took a deep breath. When Zecora glanced up, her black stripes seemed paler than usual. “I think I can do that,” she said, reaching for more potions from the shelves and balancing the first bottle on her muzzle. “A simple cure, but caveat: I will require half a day. Until then, keep the plant away From altering poor Flutter’s form, From Everfree, and from that storm.” “And I’ll stay here and help!” said Pinkie, ignoring the groan from Zecora. “Excellent!” said Twilight. Spike hopped onto her back. “We shouldn’t have too many problems. Parasite hosts take longer to control when they’re complex organisms. With any luck, Fluttershy will be cured before the gallfungus moves on to the next stage.” Because there might not be a stage after that. She grimaced and willed the thought out of her head. “All right!” said Spike. “Now there’s light at the end of the tunnel! Come on! Let’s go!” Twilight held Zecora’s gaze for a moment. “Don’t worry. We’ve still got a chance.” Zecora turned away. “I merely grasp at desperate straws, But you have no need anymore To worry over foalhood crimes. You’ve more than made up over time. You’ve grown into a better you, Much better than the one I knew.” Childish alarm shot through Twilight until something harder struck it aside. She nodded curtly. “Huh?” said Spike. “What was that all about?” “Later, Spike,” she whispered, and then bit her lip. The mud-buried skeleton, ribs protruding from a window on the top, lurked inside her imagination. So it was a parasitoid after all, she thought. Not just a parasite. A killer. Please oh please, don’t let me be too late. Before Twilight threw herself out into the darkness, Spike jolting against her spine, she just had time to see Pinkie hopping over to the cauldron. She could feel Zecora’s worried gaze following her out the door.