//------------------------------// // Chapter 38 // Story: Dreamstrider // by OkemosBrony //------------------------------// I take a deep breath of cold, wet December air, trying to flush out my nostrils from all the B.O. I’ve been smelling the past few days. Luna and I have been traveling for nearly a week now, and we’re both starting to smell pretty ripe at this point. I don’t think I’ll ever take a warm shower for granted after this trip. “Have you been up long?” Luna asks as she walks up next to me and sits next to the remains of the campfire we made last night. “Just a few minutes,” I shake my head. “I just needed some fresh air. It doesn’t exactly smell that great inside, as you probably know.” “Be glad that unlike when I was a filly, daily bathing is the norm,” she giggles. “Although I would be lying if I said it did not elicit some strange sense of nostalgia from me.” “It makes me nostalgic for soap, honestly. And shampoo, I feel like I could use my mane to grease machinery.” “Luckily, we are almost there,” she promises as she stands up and starts rummaging through her messenger bag. “Unfortunately, however, this is where we part ways. I am unsure how they will react to me returning, and perhaps the less they know about me, the better. If Shooting Star truly is tormenting them in their dreams, I worry that he may learn that we are onto him if I enter the village.” “What do you want me to do?” “Simply speak with them,” she instructs as she puts a necklace around my neck and an earring in my ear. “The necklace will allow me to hear what they say, and the earring will let me speak with you. Play along, but do not let it slip that you are a Dreamstrider or that you are looking for Shooting Star.” “So I just happen to come to a village in the middle of nowhere in northern Equestria during the winter and begin asking about what happened a thousand years ago that caused them to live here. Doesn’t seem suspicious at all.” “Perhaps tell them you are a traveler, and you wish for a place to stay. And their village is not well known, so perhaps you are curious as to why that is the case. I am sure you can think of a good way to get them to open up to you.” “Here goes nothing, I guess,” I sigh while standing up. “Where is this place, anyways?” “Maybe a quarter of a mile that way,” she says with a point of her hoof north. “It should not take you long at all. They do not tend to leave their village, so we were not in danger of being seen last night.” I turn towards where she told me to go, and pretty soon come to another hill like so many we’ve seen so far this trip. When I get to the top, however, I can see a small cluster of really old-looking buildings not that far away from me. I can’t make it out super well from here, but it definitely does look like there are some ponies in the village. Guess there’s only one thing to do, then. When I’m about halfway down the hill, however, I slip on the still-wet ground and land face-first in the mud before sliding down even further. Great, now I’m probably going to have to do the rest of this trip completely covered in dried mud. I don’t have much else I can or even want to do right now, so I just start groaning. I’m not an outdoorsy pony, so of course my first real experience with it is me roughing it for nearly a week and then getting caked in a thick layer of frigid mud. And everypony always wondered why I like staying inside and reading when I was a filly. Maybe it’s because books never made me filthy. In between spats of groaning, I can feel a small hoof poking my shoulder. When I look up and wipe the goop off my face so I can see better, I find myself face to face with a small unicorn filly with a dark pink coat and a black mane who’s not more than maybe four or five years old. Confusion is clear across her face, and she just seems to be studying me. “I’m okay,” I reassure her. “What’s your name?” She doesn’t respond, instead grabbing my hoof and trying to start pulling me towards the buildings. “What is it?” I ask her as I stand up. She responds only by continuing to pull my hoof towards the town, but I’m not sure she entirely understands how heavy a nearly full-grown mare is. “Is there something you need me to do?” Her only response is pulling even harder, and once she starts slipping on the muddy earth, it’s clear that she’s only going to try and get me to come with her, so I start walking of my own volition. “You know you can talk to me,” I tell her warmly as she starts leading me by the hoof. “Is something the matter? Do you need me to help you?” At this point, it doesn’t even seem like she’s paying attention to me. I guess all I can do is let her lead me wherever it is she’s going to. There are a few ponies out and about when we walk into town, and they all seem to have the same look on their face that the filly had. I saw a little bit of fear in her face but wrote that off as her being really young and maybe afraid of strangers, but I can see it plastered over the faces of all the townsfolk here, too. They’re not just surprised that there’s an outsider here, they’re afraid of me. And I’m a sixteen-year-old mare who’s been a bookworm her whole life, so it’s not like I’m very intimidating. There’s definitely something sketchy going on here. Before long, we get to a house that looks a lot nicer than the ones around it, mostly because it looks like there’s been upkeep done to it in the past century. By no means is it well-kept, but it’s at least better than everything else surrounding it. That isn’t saying much, but my guess is this place is somewhat important. The filly walks up and opens the door, pulling me inside as she does so. As we enter, the scent of something very distinct hits me. It smells like something’s burning, and I can see that the air is kind of foggy, probably coming from whatever’s being burnt. It’s not wood, I can tell that. Suddenly, it dawns on me: nopony is touching my hoof. I look down and confirm that the filly isn’t holding it anymore, but instead is knocking on a door in the back corner. “I’m coming!” an irritated-sounded stallion shouts, causing her to stop knocking. The door swings open and a stallion with bags under his eyes and a scowl on his face steps out before glaring down at her. “What is it that you felt it necessary to disturb me at such an hour?” Without saying anything, she turns and points at me. Confusion grows on his face, but unlike everypony else I’ve seen in this village, he doesn’t seem to be afraid of me. If anything, it looks like he’s a little angry. “And who might you be?” he asks while walking up to me. “My name is Aurora Borealis,” I tell him. “Who are you?” “I listen to the dreams,” he proclaims as he throws his chin up high. “They speak to me, sometimes, and they chose me to perform this before I was even born into this world. We have not had a visitor in so long; what brings you here?” “Just traveling,” I shrug, doing my best to try and be as nonspecific as possible. “You seem young,” he points out. “What is a mare like you doing in the vast wilderness all alone?” “I’d prefer not to talk about it,” I respond softly. I figure that hopefully will make him not try and prod. “Well, I hope in time we will be able to converse on the subject.” He looks at the filly, who looks right back at him. “Go draw our guest a bath. She must be exhausted from her journey.” She nods very slowly, then runs off to another room. “Not much of a talker, is she?” I note. “She cannot speak.” “Is she mute?” “No.” “So then how come she can’t? She doesn’t seem to have crippling shyness or anything else.” “No tongue,” he states very matter-of-factly. “No tongue?” I repeat. “What happened to it? Or was she born without one?” “Neither. I cut it out when she was born.” I want to do something to him because he’s clearly not treating her very well, but I can’t just attack him because then this all would have been for nothing. “Why did you?” “She was not the next Listener,” he informs me. “Only the one who listens to the dreams may speak. All others may not.” “Why not?” “That is how Shooting Star declared it to us.” There’s almost a bit of pride in his voice as he says that. “Shooting Star?” I ask, trying to feign ignorance as best I can. “Who’s he?” “He was a hero long ago,” he laments. “All ponies used to be blessed with the power to walk between our world and the world of dreams, and Princess Luna once wished to take advantage of that. She wished to subjugate all ponies under her command, and use them to do her bidding in both worlds. Shooting Star saw this and confronted her, but was defeated. Thankfully, he was able to bring a small group of ponies, our ancestors, here and guarantee we would be far from the hooves of the wicked Princess. We have lived here ever since, awaiting the day he returns and restores our abilities to us for being faithful to him and waiting.” “Then why does everypony else have to lose their tongues?” I ask after a few seconds of bewilderment. “When he brought our ancestors here,” he explains, “he cut out the tongues of all of them, except for the leader. Over time, we have come to learn how to identify one who can listen to dreams, and we keep their tongue intact so that they may commune with both the dream world and our world. Unfortunately, the next Listener has not been identified yet, although I feel they will be soon.” The door where the filly went in opens once again and she pokes her head out very meekly, almost as if she doesn’t want to be seen. We lock eyes for a moment, which I guess means that I’m going to have to be the one to cut this conversation off. “I think my bath’s ready,” I say with a point of my hoof towards her. “I haven’t really had the opportunity to get clean in a really long time, so you wouldn’t mind if I go right now, would you?” “Of course not,” he replies before walking to the door and next to the filly. “Stay with Aurora Borealis and attend to her wishes, understand?” Another slow nod of her head is her only answer. “You may come find me when you are done,” he tells me before walking past me to the first door I saw him come out of. “Please do not hesitate to use her should you need anything. That is what she is here for, after all.” A quick thanks is all I can get out before walking to where the filly is and entering the room. What’s that mean? She doesn’t seem to just be any filly from the town, otherwise she’d probably try to bring me to her parents. Or at the least, would have left upon dropping me off. The room we walk into isn’t very large, with a moderate-sized tub in the middle filled with what looks like actually pretty warm water. I dip my hoof in it and it warms up quickly, making me realize just how cold I’ve been these past few days. Peeling off all my clothes for the first time in over a week feels amazing for about a few seconds, until I realize just how disgusting I am right now. Without hesitation, I get into the tub and sit down, letting the wonderfully warm water come up to my chin. I stick my head under and then bring it back up, and it already feels like I’m becoming a new mare. I look over at the filly, who’s just looking at me with big and sad eyes. She really doesn’t want to be here, I can tell that. After a few seconds, an idea pops into my head. “Can you bring me some soap and shampoo?” I ask her. She nods very quickly, then goes to a small cabinet and pulls out a bar of soap and a clay bottle before coming over and setting them on the ground next to me. “Don’t go away quite yet,” I instruct right as her hooves lift to go back to the corner. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” She’s just kind of paralyzed for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, then shakes her head ever so slightly a few times. Guess that’s as good as I’m going to get from a mute filly. “Is the Listener your father?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Are your parents somewhere else in town?” She shakes her head again. I think I know where this is going. “Do you have parents?” This time, her shaking head knocks loose a few tears. “Does the Listener treat you well?” All I get is a few soft sobs from her. I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. Giving somepony power like that, especially the power to maim others, and he’ll think he’s above everypony else. As I’m looking at her, I notice that she probably isn’t much cleaner than I am. I can see a thin layer of mud splattered all over her coat, she seems to also be contributing to the smell of sweat in this room, and her mane doesn’t look like it’s ever seen any shampoo. I know it’s not much, but I use my magic to pull her chin up. “Do you take baths very often?” She doesn’t even have to think about it before shaking her head. “How about I take mine really quickly, and then let you take one while the water’s still hot?” I suggest with a smile. It’s not much, but it would probably mean a lot to her if for nothing else than a nice gesture. An enormous smile breaks out on her face as she starts nodding her head extremely quickly. “Alright,” I laugh at her enthusiasm,” just sit tight and I’ll be done as soon as I can.” While I’m a little disappointed that my first bath in around a week is going to be pretty rushed and I won’t get the opportunity to enjoy it, hopefully she’ll like it. I don’t want the water to get cold by the time I pass it off to her, so I quickly get to work with soaping up and rubbing shampoo deep into my mane and tail. In much less time than I thought, I’m rinsing the last few suds out and looking down at the water I’m sitting it. It’s full of soap and shampoo and no doubt a pretty good amount of dirt and sweat, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Ponies hundreds of years ago used to share bathwater all the time I think, so she’ll be fine. “I’m all done,” I tell her as I get out and start drying off with the scratchy towel that was provided for me. Tentatively, she walks up to the tub and puts a hoof in the water, then climbs in and sits down. I finish drying up and start walking to the door, but then I hear a few splashes of water and feel something wet holding my back leg. When I look back, I can see that she’s gotten out of the tub and is now holding onto me tight, her big puppy-dog eyes staring right at mine. “What is it?” She looks back at the tub, then motions her head towards it. “Do you...want me to stay here with you?” I guess, which gets a smile and a nod from her. Once I turn around and face the interior of the room again, she lets go of my leg and runs back up to the tub before sitting down in it. She doesn’t seem to be doing anything, however, instead just staring at me again. “Do you need something?” She nods again. Well, this entire day would be made easier if she could only speak. But what is it she could need? She wants more than somepony to keep her company, since otherwise she’d just get right to it. Wait, maybe that’s it. “Do you need me to give you a bath?” For the first time since I think I’ve gotten here, I see her smile as she nods. Well, I guess I can certainly try. I’ve never given anypony a bath before and I can’t actually remember the details of being given one myself, so I guess I’m going to have to wing it. Can’t be that hard, right? It’ll be just like giving one to myself. I don’t really know where to start, so I just grab the soap in my magic before picking her front left leg up and cleaning it. “Did your mommy and daddy used to give you baths?” I ask as I can see her coat becoming a much brighter shade of pink. For the first time, I get a shrug out of her. She must have lost her parents a long time ago, then. Well, long time for her. She does seem to be only four, after all. “My mommy and daddy used to give me baths all the time,” I start speaking. “But I always liked it more when my daddy would give me a bath, because he would always let me play with my toys for longer. Do you have any toys that you like to play with?” With a big smile, she nods her head. “Let’s see if I can guess what toys you have. Hm, do you have any dolls?” A smile, then some quick head nodding. “I’m going to guess that you have a lot of dolls?” Her smile quickly fades as she slowly shakes her head. “Do you only have a few dolls?” I ask as I move onto her other foreleg. Her head slowly and somberly nods, so I try my best to remain cheery. “You don’t need a ton of dolls, anyways. You know, I didn’t have many dolls either when I was a filly, but I still had plenty of fun with them.” That’s a total lie, but her ears perk up a bit and I can tell she’s trying to look back at me a little bit. “My big sisters didn’t take very good care of their dolls, so I never got the ones that they played with, and my parents didn’t want to buy new ones because they thought I was also going to destroy them.” That last part is true, but unfortunately I did get all of their old dolls. Usually they were in pretty awful shape, and more often than not didn’t even have any manes or tails because mom cut them off so they could play with them in the bath without clogging the drain up with doll hair. Well, I’m going to need to continue this conversation, since she won’t be able to. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” She shakes her head. I interacted enough with my younger cousins to know how to play with and talk to foals, but not when they can’t talk back. It’s a bit awkward to be bathing a filly when she can’t speak to you, because every other time I’ve interacted with foals, it seemed like they wouldn’t ever shut up. After I’m all done cleaning her, I take a moment to look at what I’ve done. Her coat is so much nicer-looking now that all the grime is off it, and her mane is apparently a light gray instead of black. Definitely a good thing that I bathed first, because the water she’s currently sitting in is absolutely filthy. I may have had some mud and sweat on me, but she was absolutely caked in grime. Man, I remind myself of how mom would talk about me if I went a single day without a bath or shower when I was younger. “Let’s get you dry now that you’re all nice and squeaky clean,” I giggle as I pull her out of the disgusting water. Just as I’m doing so, I realize that the only towel in here was the one that I just used to dry myself off, and I don’t really want to be using it on her since using a used towel to dry somepony off would definitely be crossing the line of weird. I have to know a spell for this, right? I try to rack my brain, but I’ve never really had to do anything like this, so the answer is no. I can’t just leave her here dripping wet, I’ve got to think of something. I have no idea why, but my clothes suddenly catch my eye. I guess that’s the best option I really have right now. Even if they’re not exactly the cleanest thing, they’re fairly dry. “Stay right here,” I tell her as I pat her on the head and walk over to my sweatshirt and jacket. The jacket is completely caked in now-dry mud, but my hoodie is in pretty good shape outside of a bit of mud on the hood. I guess it’s better than nothing. I start levitating it in my magic as I walk over to her and sit behind her. I decide to use the back because I figure that would have the least of my haven’t-showered-in-a-week sweat on it and get to working on her mane. After some pretty vigorous rubbing, I move it out of the way and feel her mane. Pretty dry, honestly. As I’m feeling her mane, I hear a few giggles come out of her, so I try and move my head to where I can see her. “You like that?” I ask, getting a few more happy laughs out of her. I go back at her mane again before moving onto her back, which I rub as hard as I can and really get her going. By the time I have to move onto her legs, she’s laughing so hard that I can no longer keep her still at this point. She does calm down after a minute or two, so I get to work on her legs and then her barrel. Before I know it, she’s nice and dry after her first bath in most likely ages, and my sweatshirt is now damp. Oh well. I levitate it back over to the floor where I was, then get up and start walking out of the room for real this time. She runs ahead of me as soon as I open the door and goes up to the Listener, who is packing a censer with what looks like just common weeds. Guess that explains the burning smell, then. “You look different,” he notes to the filly as she walks up to him. “I figured I’d give her a bath,” I speak up. “She looked pretty filthy, and the water was still warm.” “Well, regardless, I believe we have things to discuss.” He walks towards the room he originally came out of, then beckons me with a hoof. “Come, why don’t you?” “Stay on guard,” Luna tells me in Demon through my earring which I completely forgot I had on. “I doubt he suspects anything, but you never know what he plans to do next.” “We have things to discuss?” I echo as I walk over and enter the room. “I wasn’t aware of that.” “Just a few quick questions,” he responds as he closes the door behind him and walks to a small, very old looking circular table in the center of the room. There’s another door at the other end of this room, as well as a small desk against the wall. Two bookcases are on either side of the desk: one is almost overflowing with books and scrolls, and the other curiously only has a small stack of them. He probably wouldn’t bring it up, so I point my hoof towards them. “Why’s one bookcase overflowing and the other not?” He shakes his head. “After a few questions. First, what is it you’re doing so far away from anywhere else in Equestria?” “I don’t really want to talk about it.” Maybe if I just stick to this story, he’ll stop asking. “Our village was founded by refugees from Princess Luna, an Equestrian Princess. You can understand if I’d like a little more information, yes?” “I’m running from somepony,” I tell him. At least that part’s not actually a lie. That seems to catch his attention. “Who? And how come?” “His name’s Summer Stone,” I respond, saying the first stallion’s name that pops into my head. I’ll have to remember later to apologize to dad for using his name for some imaginary stallion that I want to get away from. “What did he do to you that made you start running?” “He just wants to hurt me,” I speak softly, trying to keep it simple. “He’s fixated on me, and I don’t get it. So, I just have to keep moving.” “We have worked well to keep our village hidden for this long,” he reminds me. “You would be able to find safe haven here, should you wish it.” “I’ll think about it,” I shrug. “Personally, I just want to know what you mean by all that stuff with dreams and Shooting Star and Luna. I don’t think I’ve heard any of those stories.” “Not stories,” he corrects me, “but facts. Do they not teach the truth in Equestria anymore?” “I was kinda homeschooled after 4th grade.” Come to think of it, that’s not really a lie. If you count training to be a Dreamstrider as homeschooling, that is. “And even then, we didn’t do much on history.” “Are you at least aware of Princess Luna’s crusade against Equestria?” “We called her Nightmare Moon, and then Princess Celestia imprisoned her on the moon” I inform him. “But I wasn’t aware that she wanted to enslave us, we were always told that it was because she despised us for not loving her night.” “That sounds in line with the stories passed down to us,” he laughs. “She was a very cruel, evil, vindictive mare. Her lust for power grew beyond what was tolerable, and she saw both our world and the world of dreams and decided that they should both be hers. Through means kept hidden from her so she would not be able to reverse them, he severed all ponies’ ties to the dream world and then took our ancestors, his closest confidantes, here so they would be safe from her reign of terror. And he promised that one day, he would return and restore our powers and reward our loyalty.” “Blatant lies, all of it,” I can hear Luna spit through my earring. “And you’re just...waiting here?” I clarify. “Nightmare Moon was sent to the moon a little over a thousand years ago, you could come back to Equestria.” “We shall wait here and continue to live as he told us to,” he shakes his head. “And what did he tell you about the Listener and cutting out your foals’ tongues?” I ask, trying to keep my own anger back a little bit. I just don’t see what could justify doing such a thing to all the foals that are born. “The Listener is the one who can touch the dream world at night, to feel the magic inside of it as all ponykind once did. There is a great deal of knowledge hidden in the dream world, and only we may tap into it and learn from it. It is also the dream world’s magic that tells us when another Listener is born, so we may spare their tongue and lead them upon the path of leading our humble village. When he lead us here, he decreed that everypony but the one who can commune with the dream world cut out their tongues to allow quiet contemplation and meditation to aspire to hear the dream world as the Listeners do.” Curious about his claims, I take a few slow, deep breaths and try to feel the magic around me. There’s really nothing special about his magic, and he’s definitely not like a Dreamstrider because I would be able to easily tell it. He has no more connection to the dream world than the average pony, so I’m not sure what he believes he’s able to do because he’s some sort of chosen one. Also makes me wonder how they choose the next Listener, of if it’s basically a load of crap. “And those books?” I ask. “Now that I know why you’re here, will I know what they are?” “Some of them were brought with our ancestors when they fled,” he laments while levitating one of the very old-looking books over. “They contain knowledge about the dream world, written while ponies still had access to it. This one, for example, details how ponies used the passage between worlds to cultivate food, and details what types of crops were native to the dream world.” The book is in Demon, I can see that now. And while it takes me a little longer to read because it’s upside down as a result of currently facing him, I do read it as An Advanced Guide to Tea for Dreamstriding. Definitely not what he claims it is. “And the other books, the ones on the overflowing shelf?” “Our own studies of the dream world, compiled by all of the Listeners before me. We hope that once ponykind is able to return to the world of dreams, we will not have lost a thousand years of progress.” “And what is the dream world like? What have you seen there?” “It is a world filled with magic beyond our wildest dreams. And when our access to it was cut off, there were some ponies still left in the dream world that have developed differently from us and now are hardly even recognizable as ponies. Although I cannot enter their world and speak with them, they whisper to me sometimes in my dreams.” Well, that’s...kind of right. “And what do they say to you?” “They tell me all sorts of things about the dream world, and Shooting Star lives on so I should not lose hope.” “Ask him further questions about The Nightmare,” Luna instructs. “How is he still alive?” I question. “If he lived a thousand years ago, wouldn’t he be dead by now?” “We do not know where he currently is,” he laments. “One day, however, he will return. And he will look upon us with happiness, for we will have continued to stay here and wait for his return, just as he asked our ancestors to.” “And do you know when this will happen, or what he’s doing in the meantime? Did he say anything to you when he left?” “We do not know when he will return or how, and he said only that he was going to confront Princess Luna once and for all. We have not heard from him since, but we continue to hope.” “They know nothing, unfortunately,” I can hear Luna sigh. “Please make your way back to me so we may return to Canterlot and continue our efforts.” I do my best to fake a yawn, which actually isn’t really that difficult since I’m pretty tired anyways and it turns into a real one halfway through. “Well, thank you for enlightening me and taking me in. Do you mind if I just walk around town a bit before coming back and grabbing a nap? You can imagine that having to sleep outside in this cold isn’t very fun at all. Why I didn’t flee somewhere south, I’ll never know.” “Perhaps my assistant will be able to show you around,” he thinks out loud while standing up. “It would be good for her to have something to do. Idle hooves are never a good thing to have, don’t you agree?” “You can give her some time off,” I shake my head. “Besides, she’s what? Five? She can have a little bit of time to play.” “I imagine she already was before you came here, that is why she found you and brought you here. If she wanted to play this morning, then she understands that she will not be able to later in the day.” “Alright,” I shrug as I stand up next to him. If it weren’t for the fact that it took Luna and I nearly a week to get here as two adults, I’d definitely try to sneak that filly out with me. Seriously, telling a five-year-old she can’t run off and play and always needs to stay busy? Even I usually get some time to myself every day, I can’t imagine always having to do chores when I was her age. As we walk out into the main room, the filly’s ears prick up and she jumps to her hooves from the sitting position she was in. “Would you please go fetch Miss Borealis’ clothes?” he asks her. She nods, then walks into the side room before he turns around and walks back into his room. An idea on how to get back to Luna pops into my head, so I walk into the room with the bath after her. She places my sweatshirt and jacket at my hooves, so I put my jacket on while tying the sweatshirt around my shoulders since I feel like wearing heavy, damp fabric is not exactly the best idea in the cold of December. “Come here,” I beckon her as I levitate my saddlebags over and start casting a spell in my mind. I’ve only ever cast this on myself before, but it’s easy enough to turn around and cast on somepony else with the same effect. Curious, she walks over and looks at me rummaging through my bags before pulling out a royal purple scarf with a block M on it. “Nice scarf, isn’t it?” She nods, and I put it out for her to feel with her hoof. “My big sister gave me this once a long time ago, and I’ve always treasured it since. And I want you to have it.” As soon as I finish saying that, a twinge of regret and sadness starts in my heart. This was such a thoughtful gift from Snowy, but I know that she’ll appreciate it more than I ever will. She may not understand the sentimentality behind it, but with any luck, she’ll come to create new memories for it. I still have not only one sister, but both of mine. She has nothing. Gently, I wrap it around her neck before touching her horn to mine and sending the spell that’s built up in my mind to hers. And it works like a charm: almost as soon as the spell washes over her, her eyelids seem to grow heavy before she closes them and lays down, peacefully breathing. Since the sleep itself isn’t actually magical, she could be woken up at any moment, meaning that I have to get out of here quickly. Getting up and putting my saddlebags on as fast and quietly as I can, I turn around and walk out of the building before finding the hill I came down and quickly going up it. Luna is still sitting around the campfire remains when I return, and she looks at me somberly. “I had wished that this trip would be more fruitful,” she hangs her head. “Learning about what he put those ponies through just made him feel all that much more real,” I say as I sit down next to her. “You told me he mutilated the Dreamstriders and their families and then banished them, are these ponies their descendants?” “Yes,” she mumbles. “I wish I would have been able to save them, but I was too late. He must have threatened them before arrogantly returning to Equestria wherein I imprisoned him, but I was consumed by my fury demon before I was able to come here and save them.” “They seem to have some distorted versions of Dreamstriders and dream magic,” I point out. “From what I gathered, his story of Listeners is naught but nonsense. Although, the saddest thing is that they continue the barbaric tradition of cutting tongues out.” “Yeah, the reasons behind that seemed a little weird. What did he do to them?” “The head Dreamstrider, Starshine, blamed himself for not seeing Shooting Star’s betray before it happened. None of the other Dreamstriders felt that way, however, but he did not want Starshine to live a life free of guilt. So, before they were able to tell him that they were not angry, he cut out all their tongues so they would never be able to express their forgiveness to him. My only guess is the young foals that were there and their foals spun some tale as to why only the leader had a tongue, and the truth became diluted with each passing generation.” “Well...what do we do now?” “We return to Canterlot,” she states while standing up. “This was simply the first place I thought to look. I will still be enlisting your help with this matter in the future, and this trip has shown to me that you are indeed a very capable mare who will be able to provide valuable assistance.” “Guess it’s back home,” I shrug. “You lead the way.”