Nurse Redheart nodded once, grunting slightly in frustration before turning away. “Alright, alright. Follow me, then. We haven’t really had much to do since they called us here, anyway.” She lowered her voice as they cut through the camp, apparently for Midnight’s benefit. “Nopony will tell me what’s going on, but I don’t see what all these guards are doing here. The librarian cuts her leg, and they need half of Ponyville General’s medical staff?” She shook her head in frustration.
Why did Silver Shield tell me so much about what happened here, but not the doctor? He hadn’t seemed as afraid of her as she’d been expecting. A curious glance, a bit of raised eyebrows, and that was all. I guess not every guard has to be a terrified fool.
But it wouldn’t matter for much longer. Once Twilight or Zecora vouched for her, she could drop off the filly and be back home before lunch. She thought that, but as she made her way into the open medical tent, she had a hard time believing it. Nothing ever went that easily for Midnight Storm. If something could go wrong, it would.
Besides, she was already starting to doubt that she would be “dropping off” this pony anywhere. Not unless someone arrived who would actually treat her like a pony.
There were four beds in the makeshift tent. Only one was occupied: by a purple unicorn with some bandages on one leg. I guess this is Twilight. It was a good thing Midnight had learned it wasn’t Twilight’s fault she had missed the meeting before giving her a piece of her mind over it. “Right here, miss…”
“Storm,” Midnight said. “Midnight Storm.” That was enough to make the pony on the other end of the room sit up from whatever book she was reading, eyes widening as she looked at Midnight. But that was all she did—she didn’t look to be in terribly good shape just now. Whatever she’s been through is worse than a cut on her leg.
“Right, Storm.” The nurse gestured to an empty bed. “If you could help us coax the little one down off your back, we can work.” She bent down, meeting the filly’s eyes. “It’ll be just fine, sweetheart. We’re just going to make it so you don’t get sick from all those cuts, okay? It won’t take more than a few minutes, and your friend Midnight will be right here the whole time.”
“You will?” the filly asked—the first time she’d said anything since they got into camp. But then, there weren’t any guards inside the tent with them, only a few nurses and the recovering librarian.
“I will,” Midnight said. “I won’t leave for anything.”
At that, the little pony finally released her neck, and climbed down onto the cot. Midnight Storm sat down by the foot of the cot, as out of the way of the doctors as she could be. They seemed to know what they were doing—more than Midnight would’ve, anyway. Zecora could’ve done this better. But Zecora wasn’t here.
“I was… supposed to see you yesterday,” the unicorn said from across the room, her voice drained, weak. “You’re the dragon pony Zecora told me about.”
Midnight tensed immediately, more reflex than anything. But of course, she had already lost her robe. Everyone could see her, all the time. I’m going to have to move away anyway, so it can’t get worse. What she wanted to do was walk across the room to whisper something rude to Twilight. But she couldn’t do that, not with the filly’s desperate eyes always on her. If she moved even a little away from the bed, she had no doubt that it might cause the pony to freak out. As it was, she dealt with the scrubbing of stinging disinfectants with remarkable courage for a child.
“I am Midnight Storm,” she called, her voice pointed. “We did have an appointment yesterday. I understand something happened here and you weren’t able to make it.”
“Y-yeah.” The unicorn chuckled, her book falling limp on her lap. “Y-you could say that. Something happened. I’m sorry I… we’ll have to reschedule.”
“Yeah,” Midnight said, grateful she hadn’t pursued the point. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”
The unicorn looked relieved, and slouched back against the cot.
Of course, Midnight didn’t really think there would be another meeting. There were too many different eyes on her in this camp, and she wasn’t even out yet. Even if the guards weren’t just looking for a pony to blame, and didn’t find a way to blame her for this, she would still probably have to move. These doctors were from Ponyville, and she caught every one of them glancing at her whenever they thought she wasn’t looking. Even if they were too busy (or too polite) to ask about how she looked, word would spread. Even running away from civilization wouldn’t be enough to keep her peace.
But what if I hadn’t come? Would those guards have found this kid before something worse did? The nameless filly proved to be even sturdier than she had first appeared. Her wounds were not serious, but they were serious enough that anypony else her age probably would’ve collapsed into bed as a sore mess when the treatment was done. I can’t keep just thinking of her by her age, Midnight thought to herself, watching the child as she squirmed and struggled under adult ministrations. But if she doesn’t even remember her own name… Maybe something simple, like to do with the color of her coat.
Of course, there were other details she couldn’t help but notice. The doctors and nurses worked diligently, but the soldiers responded differently. In the time it took to remove the rest of the filly’s thorns and bandage up her shallow wounds, the tent had gone from no guards to nearly half a dozen. Almost all of them seemed to be there to watch the filly. Idiots. She’s just a filly, what is she going to do?
But she kept that to herself, as she had learned to keep so much. It was the only way a pony like herself could hope to stay hidden. I’m sure when the princess gets here she’ll know what to do. Celestia probably already knows about this Alicorn. She can be sent back to her parents and this nightmare would be over.
The filly wasn’t willing to stay in bed when her treatment was done. No sooner had the doctors and nurses moved away than she jumped across the room towards Midnight, wrapping both hooves around one of her legs. Midnight felt the guards all around them visibly tense—one of them even drew a spear. At least he had the sense not to point a dangerous weapon at a child.
“You see the resemblance, right?” she heard him whisper. “You think she has anything to do with what the cultists were up to?”
“Maybe she was secretly their leader,” another whispered back.
Apparently, the guards near the outside of the tent thought she wouldn’t be able to hear. Midnight heard, but she kept quiet.
The nurses didn’t. “Now now, you really shouldn’t be moving about,” said the white-furred nurse. Redheart, her name had been? “You really do need to go easy on those bandages for the next few days. You can’t be moving around like that.” She looked up at Midnight, meeting her eyes without the usual layer of intimidation. “Are you going to be caring for her, miss Storm?”
“Midnight,” she answered, speaking before she had the chance to think. It probably would’ve been smarter to use a pseudonym, make her name spread as little as possible. But too late for that now. “Midnight Storm. And yes, I am.” She lifted the filly up with a wing, returning her to her back. The poor little bundle of fur felt even warmer than she had before, almost as though she were at the beginnings of a fever.
“Well, Midnight.” Redheart offered a roll of clean bandage in her mouth. “Why don’t you take this. Those bandages need to be changed every few days or so. Do you think you can handle that?”
Midnight took the offered roll. “Yeah, I think I can.” Living on her own for so long had taught her enough of the basics of first aid. Considering what was likely to be revealed about her if she ever went to a hospital… “That shouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Good.” Redheart leaned closer to her, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I don’t know if the details might be different in practice. I’ve never actually cared for an Alicorn before. Where did she come from?”
At least she didn’t sound afraid the way the guards did. “I have no idea,” Midnight responded honestly, turning away from them all. Her new layer of guards didn’t seem content to just let her walk away, however. They formed a tight ring around the medical tent, and most of them weren’t facing away.
“Well, Ponyville General isn’t far away,” Redheart said, after a few awkward moments of silence. “If she starts getting a fever, or those wounds start to smell, you bring her in right away.”
“I will.”
The nurse and her companion left her to tend to the other patient, though neither one showed any particular trepidation. They’re braver than the damn guards.
Midnight debated whether she should take to the air and fly away from the camp, rescuing the filly from whatever negative treatment the guards would heap on her. As entertaining as it was to imagine the guards trying to keep up with her in a forest she knew with their tiny wings, just now she didn’t trust the filly’s ability to hold on. And anyway, running would make me look guilty. I have nothing to do with this.
“You should probably get back in bed,” she said to the filly on her shoulders, doing her best to make sure that her anger for those around them wouldn’t translate into her tone with her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “I don’t know how long it will take for Celestia to get here.”
The pony looked fearfully past her at the many guards and their suspicious eyes. “If I do, they might take you away.”
“I won’t let them,” she whispered back, stepping a little further into the medical tent. Far enough that most of the guards faded from view. Of course they were still standing there.
“Okay,” the child said, after a long pause. “Don’t leave.” She crawled slowly off her back, wings flapping uselessly as she settled down back onto the cot. Midnight Storm sat on her haunches at the base of the bed, glaring daggers at the guards. Daring them to approach. She let her bladed tail rest beside her, exposed enough to catch the sun coming through the tent’s entrance. Needless to say, nopony bothered them.
There was much conversation throughout the camp, though Midnight couldn’t hear much of it. Whatever the guards were saying about their investigation into the mysterious cult and their intentions, she didn’t care. Let them have their secret plans.
She dozed away a few hours at the base of the bed, alert anytime one of the guards entered the tent. It seemed more than once that somepony came in with the intention to take either her or the child away for separate questioning. Whenever they did, a glance at her her tail or sharp teeth bared dissuaded them.
Eventually a pony broke through the ranks of the guards around them, and walked right up to her without hesitation in his hoofsteps—Silver Shield, looking grim. But no—not actually walking up to her, just the tent in general. “I have bad news,” he said, his voice flat. “We’ve discovered information that leads us to believe the Everfree will not be a secure location to continue this investigation. We’re relocating to Canterlot immediately.” He lowered his voice, speaking to the doctor. “Neither of them is too hurt to move, yes?”
The doctor nodded reluctantly. “Moving any patient more than necessary is always a bad idea. But no, no specific dangers for either of them.”
“Good.” He turned slightly to one side, looking directly at her this time. “I’m sorry, miss Midnight Storm. I hoped we would be able to discharge you by evening. But orders from Princess Celestia require we not release anypony until an interview with her. You’ll have to accompany the rest of us.”
She rose to her hooves, standing at her full height in front of him. She towered over him, as she did for almost everypony she met. Being half-dragon could do that. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said flatly. “You can’t lock me up for nothing. Equestria has laws.”
Unlike the other guards, Silver Shield didn’t look intimidated. “You aren’t being locked up, miss. You’ll be riding first class to Canterlot on the crown’s expense. If you’re innocent, as the evidence seems to suggest, you can ride back in first class at the crown’s expense. There is no room for negotiation.” He paused, glancing past her at the bed. “Besides, you seem determined to protect that child. If she goes and you stay, you won’t be able to do that.”
“Fine,” Midnight grunted. “Can I at least get a cloak or something before we leave? Ponies, well—” She pointed past him at the guards. “They’re a little less hysterical if they can’t see how I look.”
“I’ll… see what we can find,” he said, turning away. Then he raised his voice. “We’re breaking camp! Everypony, be ready to move in ten minutes! We aren’t going to be late for our train.”