//------------------------------//
// Another One Bites the Dust 
// Story: It's a Kind of Magic 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

Beatrix stirred. The toffee-thick darkness swirled away, sloughing off her mind and eyes. When she sat up again, bleary and dazed, she didn’t immediately notice the changes that had taken place in the room. Bit by bit, though, she noticed that things seemed a little off. Snips and Snails, at the very least, seemed unchanged, though they too seemed to have been knocked for six by the blast that had gone off.
Everything else seemed to have transformed, though. The air had taken on a sour, smoky tang; out of the corner of her eye, she could see halos of rainbows, tinted dark and grimy. All the runes and sigils scratched around the room were glowing shades of red and orange and brown, and all the hardware that had gone into making the room, from the walls to the fencing to the millstone, seemed faded in every sense. They looked as though they had turned into a pale mist. And there, on the far side of the pit, was… Trixie.
It was undeniably her. Sure, the hat and cloak had seen much better days. Yes, the mane was singed. Certainly there were a lot more bruises than you’d ever expect to see on a pony not being tended by paramedics. But it was definitely her. The swagger was unmistakable.
Trixie looked up and saw Beatrix for the first time. Her reaction was immediate. Her lip twisted into a scowl. “Base coward,” she spat. “Fool, weakling, traitoress, screw thy dam!”
Beatrix took a moment to formulate a reply, but she kept it concise. “Huh?”
“Wha--” said Snails, struggling to their feet. They blinked. “Hey, Snips?”
“Go ‘way, lemme sleep.”
“Snips, I’m seeing double, eh? Either that, or there’s two Trixies.”
“There’s only one Trixie here, and that’s me,” Trixie snapped. “This-- this spineless craven, so low Trixie would have to debase herself even to puke upon, has stolen Trixie’s Trixie!”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Beatrix said acidly. She was feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, and her mood was in the toilet anyway. “I’m the original. I made you up, you’re just a stage name and a costume change.”
“The original?” Trixie scoffed. “Please. You’re the prototype.”
Snails boggled. “I’m confused,” they groaned. “Which one of you is real?”
“I am!” both mares shouted at once. “No, I am!” They glared at one another.
“Very well,” Trixie said at last. “Since this thief seems to be going nowhere, we will need a way to distinguish one from the other. Trixie will be Trixie Superior, and this will be Trixie Inferior.”
“I’m Beatrix,” Beatrix said firmly. “No Trixie at all.”
This seemed to leave her double stunned, at least for a moment. Snips took the opportunity to cut into the conversation. “What’s going on?” he asked plaintively. “What happened?”
Beatrix pursed her lips and glanced away. Almost immediately, Trixie’s swagger had returned with a vengeance. “Miss Priss over there boosted the power of the conduit,” she said smugly. “While it simply rolled along, the poem recited itself only to itself, without an audience. But when read aloud…”
“The real-time emotional reactions made the spirit more powerful,” Beatrix finished. “Leaving us in this limbo-state.”
“Huh?” said Snails.
“You’re stuck in the circle with Trixie,” Trixie translated. “And him.”
“Him?” Snips asked. “Who, me?”
“Ah-ah-ah! Grammar!” Trixie frowned at the colt, half-serious. “Trixie was using the collective ‘you’. You are all-- along with Trixie-- trapped with Evening Glow's little pet.”
"For the last time," a voice snarled from somewhere in the darkness. "I am no pet!"
On that last word, a figure lunged forward out of the miasma of shadows and landed in the middle of the floor.


***

It was an odd sight, even for Ponyville, to see the guards advance up the hill to Rumor Mill. Near the front, Twilight, Rainbow, Pinkie, and Rarity trotted along behind Brigadier Bombardier. That is to say, the first three trotted. Rarity slunk along, wearing sunglasses and a dark scarf. Nopony was sure where the clothes had come from. Nopony asked, either. There were more pressing concerns.
“So, Brigadier,” Twilight said. “What’s the plan?”
Bombardier frowned, more out of reflex than any emotion. “As of right now, this is a strictly observational affair,” she said. “We go, we see how much of that filly’s story was true, and then we make a plan based on gathered intelligence.” She cast a suspicious look at Twilight. “That means we don’t go in horns blazing, or trying to make friends with everything in sight. Understood?”
Twilight’s lips pursed in displeasure. “Very good, Brigadier,” she said shortly. “I’m always ready to support the gathering of information.”
Bombardier, however, had already turned her attentions elsewhere. There were shouts of pain and confusion coming from the front of the advancing troops. “Something’s wrong,” she said, breaking into a quick trot. Twilight and the others followed close behind.
As they drew closer to the front, Dash waved a hoof in front of her face. “Jeez. Is it just me, or is it really hot out here?”
Rarity sniffed the air gingerly, then scrunched her nose in revulsion. “Ugh! Something smells like rotten eggs.”
Twilight’s eyes widened and she met Brigadier Bombardier’s gaze. “Sulfur,” they said as one before racing onwards, Twilight pushing guards out of the way with great swathes of magic.
It took them only a minute to reach the front of the pack. Even if the obstacle was invisible, its border was clear. In a vast circle around the Rumor Mill, perhaps fifty meters in radius, all the grass was dead. Several guards stood nursing burn wounds on their hooves and faces. “Heat barrier,” Twilight said.
“Can you get through it?” the Brigadier asked.
Twilight considered that for a long moment. “Given time, yes,” she said at length. “I take it the plan has changed?”
The Brigadier nodded curtly. “If that filly was right about those other ponies being in there, this is now an act of aggression. What’s more, it’s a hostage situation. Time may not be in any great supply, your highness.”


***

The spirit was large, over twice the size of a normal pony. That wasn’t good; size and power tended to correlate in the spirit realms. It was vaguely pony-shaped, but its legs were spindly and pointed, and its lank, greasy black mane shrouded its features. The only part of its face that could be discerned were its brilliant gamboge eyes that seemed to burn through anything and everything. “I am no pet,” it repeated in a lower, calmer growl. “No mortal may possess one such as I. I am Despair, little mare, and I am your doom.”
“Pfft,” Trixie scoffed. “The GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE can yell just as loud as you can, Dezzy.”
“Do not. Call me. Dezzy,” Despair growled at her.
“Whatever you say,” Trixie said with a shrug. “Though Trixie thinks you’re starting to sound more desperate than despairing.”
The spirit’s shoulders hunched inwards as it shook in sheer fury. “I will take great pleasure in destroying you,” it snarled, and the idea of teeth, long and sharp and yellow, caught in the minds of everypony in the room.
Trixie examined her hooves. “Uh-huh, sure.”
Beatrix looked wildly from one to the other. “It’s threatening to kill you, you idiot! Don’t you think you should be a little more worried?”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “If he hadn’t been threatening Trixie for the last four days, sure,” she said. “But he has no power in the circle. Even those two could overpower him with a hoof tied behind their back.”
Snails gasped. “The Great and Powerful Trixie noticed us!” they said dreamily.
“You go, Trixie!” Snips shouted.
Despair waved a hoof as if to swat away a fly. Trixie flew back and bounced off the wall like a rubber ball, then landed with a heavy thump on the ground. Silence reigned. Then, slowly, shakily, Trixie stood back up. “Ish dat--” she paused, spat out a tooth. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Oh-kay!” Beatrix said brightly. “Hey, Trixie, maybe don’t antagonize the being of immense power over there, alright?”
“Pff. Nothing he does lasts very long,” Trixie said dismissively. “If it did, Trixie would probably be a thick paste by now. Why do you care, anyway, you two faced harlot?”
Snips frowned. “Hey, that’s not very nice. What did Beatrix ever do to you? Uh, herself? Uh, I mean…” he trailed off, utterly befuddled.
“Look, Trixie, you’re my alter-ego,” Beatrix said, gently as she could. “In some weird way, you are me, and I’m you.”
“And we are all together?” Trixie sniffed imperiously. “Spare Trixie the goo-goo-gajoob, why don’t you?”
“Miss Trixie, I don’t understand,” Snails said plaintively. “What’re you talking about?”
“Unsurprising,” Despair said with what passed for a sneer on something with no visible face. “A dolt of a colt like you, I’m surprised you don’t get lost getting out of bed in the morning.”
Snails stepped back in shock and hurt. “Th-- that was mean,” they stuttered. “And I’m not a colt, eh?”
“No surprise your parents never get along with you around," Despair continued. "All those disagreements, wouldn't it be better if they just-- split?"
“Leave them alone!” Beatrix and Trixie said in one furious voice as Snips put a comforting hoof around his best friend and glared impotently at the spirit.
Despair’s eyes flashed. “Ah, the wonder twins, Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” he said. “Stepping up to defense at last, hm?”
A brief gesture, and both mares went for an impromptu flight. Beatrix smacked the wall with a meaty thump. Despite looking like a fine mist, it was about as yielding as five-year-old fruitcake, and even less enjoyable. She pulled herself up and saw that Trixie had already recovered herself. A long crack ran up the side of her horn, and it was shooting sparks intermittently.
“Those two aren’t your concern,” she spat, marking the ground dark red with flecks of blood. “This is about Trixie and about her.”
“On the contrary. All despair is my concern, no matter how small, no matter how well-hidden.” The spirit stalked towards Beatrix, who scrabbled to her hooves in fright. He took her chin in a long, withered hoof and tilted her face up to meet his burning eyes. His breath stank of onions and stale cigars.  “Every insecurity, every fear, every embarrassment, every hurt, all of it. Mine.”
He lifted Beatrix’s chin a little further, then toppled her onto her backside. “Most ponies don’t have all that many. Comparatively, I mean,” he said, turning away. “There are some dense concentrations in Cloudsdale, Manehattan, Canterlot. But most of you are just too nice. I enjoyed getting to play with Ponyville. Such a shame, I always break my toys.”
“You mean-- you were behind the explosions?” Beatrix asked.
“Oh, yes. A little of my power mixed in with the flour, and everything goes up in flames. Houses, ponies, relationships. Just to watch the pretty fire burn it all away.”
Beatrix was shaking now. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would my brother do this? What did this town ever do to him?”
Despair might have smiled, though it didn’t seem likely. “Isn’t it obvious? He did it all for you.”


***

The Brigadier had ordered everypony back to allow Twilight room to work on breaking through the heat barrier. Rainbow, Pinkie, and Rarity had all been permitted to stay and lend whatever help they could. This was for the most part limited to Dash flapping her wings to produce a breeze, Pinkie providing sweets from places better left unknown, and Rarity staring at the mill, ruminating and regretting. She had started by regretting everything she had done that day. From there, she moved on to regretting that regret could not fix regrettable issues, and then she regretted wishing that regret had such powers.
She had made a terrible, terrible mistake. No, she refused to call it a mistake. That cheapened the severity of the situation. Everything she had done had been purposeful and meticulously plotted, and the result had been exactly as intended. She had done something monstrous, and she didn’t even know how she could ever hope to make things right again. She would take her punishment with grace, of course, and humbly, but that would only right things in the eyes of the law. There had been so many that she had hurt--
“Rarity!”
“Hwah?” Rarity jerked to, looking around wildly.
Twilight was glaring at her. “For the third time, help me twist these wires together!”
“Oh-- I-- yes, of course.” Rarity looked at the machine. “Twilight, where did you get all of these parts from?”
“Three alarm clocks, four hoof-held video games, a ham radio, and a junk drawer, all of which Pinkie kept stored in her mane for reasons I’m not even going to ask about. Now, please.” Twilight gave Rarity a sort of painful, strained smile, the sort that spoke to Rarity of pain and stress and everything burning forever and small stuffed toys. “Twist these two wires together.”
Rarity quickly twisted the two wires together. Twilight looked over the machine once more, checking for any flaws or faults. At length, she nodded and flipped a switch. There was a hum, and a wave of cooler air swept over all four mares. The Brigadier looked over and began to move purposefully towards them. 
“So, good news or bad news?” Twilight asked as the zebra approached.
“Surprise me.”
“I can open up a hole in the heat shield for however long we’ll need it.”
“And the dark cloud on the silver lining?”
Twilight winced. “It’s a very small hole. Big enough for four ponies. Five at a squish.”
The Brigadier frowned. “Ah, shame. Well, I’ll just have to get four of my best in.”
“Ah,” said Twilight. “That’s the other thing.”
“What’s that--” the Brigadier did a quiet headcount. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I’m going in. My friends are coming with me. I’d prefer if you came along as well, but if not…”
The Brigadier narrowed her green eyes. “I swear, if this goes south…”
“Glad to have you aboard,” Twilight said, pushing the machine into the heat field. “Now, stay close…”


***

Beatrix blinked. “Excuse me?”
She looked at Trixie, but her alter ego looked just as surprised. “Why would Evening Glow ever do anything on my behalf?”
“He’s your brother,” Despair said witheringly. “Did you think that he wouldn’t want the best for his little sister?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds about right to Trixie.”
“And there we have the problem,” the spirit said, gesturing to Trixie.
The stage magician snorted.  “That Evening Glow only cares about himself and will use Trixie or anypony else to get what he wants? Trixie agrees.”
Despair made a short, sharp gesture. This time, it was Snips and Snails who smacked into the wall. “Hey!” Beatrix said indignantly. “What did they ever do to you?”
“Nothing,” Despair said. “It’s what they mean to the pair of you that’s important. So keep your tongues civil, or your young fans will face the consequences…”
Beatrix was relieved to see both foals slowly getting upright. “Okay. But please, can you just tell me clearly what you were sent here to do?”
“I am Despair, Soul-Crusher, Destroyer of Dreams. I am here to kill you in exchange for my freedom to do as I please in this world.”
There was a moment of shocked silence. “And that’s what’s best for me, is it?” Beatrix demanded.
“Perhaps I was not clear,” Despair sighed. “Or perhaps you are simply too stupid to understand. I was summoned to kill one of you and leave the other alone. Trixie or Beatrix, but not both.”
“I-- what?” Beatrix demanded, her heart racing. “A-and how do you choose which one?”
“I don’t. That’s your choice.”
“The Great and Powerful--” the sudden silence was stunning. Beatrix turned around and saw that Trixie’s mouth had disappeared. The showmare continued to shout and rave, apparently not recognizing the fact that all she could do was mumble indistinctly.
“Consider carefully,” Despair said. “How much use was Trixie, really? A loudmouth braggart transient. All she ever did was insult ponies, get into trouble, run away… what kind of life is that? How much could she ever have accomplished? What was it all for?”
Beatrix’s voice caught in her throat. She looked to Snips and Snails for support. They were gone.


***

“Beatrix?” Trixie shouted. “Don’t listen to the evil spirit! Beatrix, listen to Trixie! Why are you not listening to Trixie!”
Snips hopped down from the platform and tried to draw closer to Beatrix, but he hit an invisible wall. “Ow,” he whined. “I don’t think we can get through to her.”
“An illusion? This thing seeks to use illusions against Trixie?” She scowled and yanked off her hat.
“What’re you doing?” Snails asked.
“Rule one of magic. Never go anywhere without fireworks!”
She pulled out a striped rocket larger than her leg and aimed it at the spirit, lighting it with a quick spell. “Really, what could you have accomplished as Trixie? She didn’t have any purpose in life, no real ability.”
Trixie's hooves shook and her aim veered wildly. “Excuse you? The Great and Powerful Trixie has plenty of ability!”
“No ambitions beyond her next meal and a place to sleep…”
“That’s not true!” Trixie shouted, dropping the firework to the ground. Fortunately, Snails had the presence of mind to snuff out the fuse. “Trixie has plenty of ambition! She will be the greatest in the world. You’ll see! You’ll see!” She banged on the wall of force. "Listen to Trixie!"


***

“Think of what you could accomplish at your brother’s side. Not much, of course. You’re still a pathetic hack who can hardly socialize. But more than you could trying to be something you blatantly aren’t.”
Beatrix stared at the ground for a long, long time, thinking. It hadn't been so bad in Neigh Orleans. She'd always had a clean bed, food, decent health care. She would be able to see Flora and Fauna, and Dr. Comfort, and all her other old friends. A deathly pall hung in the air as she thought about them all.
She thought about Flora and Fauna and their warm cocoa on those cold mornings where nopony else was at breakfast.
She thought about Dr. Southern Comfort's funny stories that he told to distract her from itching bandages and jagged scars.
She thought about Old Jack, who taught her to fish every Saturday morning, and how to win at cards when the evening set in.
She thought about Ponyville and all the sympathetic ears, all the Twilight Sparkles and Applejacks and Pinkie Pies, all the warm hearts that had opened up to her after she had been in the cold for so long...
She looked at her double. Really looked. Trixie was banging her hooves on some invisible surface, like a mime artist. No, she realized with a jolt, there was some invisible wall there. And almost invisible to even Trixie's trained eye, two figures moving; one tall and slim, one stout. Snips and Snails hadn't vanished at all. It was just a trick, like everything else Despair was. It misdirected you, hiding all the joy and goodness in your life and saying it had all disappeared.
“Take all the time you need, Beatrix,” Despair said. “I was told that you never were the quickest…”
The pall thickened. At last, almost glacially, Beatrix lifted her head. “I choose Trixie.”
The silence returned, but this time it was more stunned than stoic. Even the mouthless Trixie stared in shock and confusion. Despair recovered first. “You mean that you choose for her to perish, of course, I--”
“Do not presume to tell the GRRRREAT! and POWERFUL! TRIXIE! what she means!” Beatrix stepped toward the spirit. It hovered back nervously.
“Did you really think that cutting Trixie down would make Beatrix the more appealing choice?” she snarled. “All that distrust, that belittling, all that hurt, that was where Trixie was born! Beatrix created Trixie as the master illusionist to make her pains disappear! The escape artist to leave her old life behind! The overblown, bombastic magician to remind herself that she was great and powerful by name and nature. A new identity with a new sort of family, to leave the other ones behind where they belonged; in the dust. A new family who loved her, cared about her, would never see her slip into that-- that oblivion ever again!
“So, now you have a choice. Will you do as you’re told, destroy the right mare and be allowed to slip back into the outer realms? Or will you destroy Trixie, break with your contract, and be blasted into near oblivion?”
Despair snarled, glowing at one and then the other. And then he leapt for her. For just a moment, she saw sharp fangs and pincers like a centipede’s, and she smelled the hot tang of the spirit’s foul breath. Then a wave of disorientation struck her, and she stumbled forward. She hurt all over, and she was pretty sure that she was missing a few teeth. But she felt the weight of her hat on her head, and the tattered scraps of her cloak hung round her neck. Snips and Snails stood at her side, looking dazed and probably traumatized
There was no sign of Beatrix. Trixie shoved that to the very back of her mind.
Trixie reached up a hoof and touched the crystal that clasped the cloak together; it was fractured, but still there. She clutched it, let it fill her with confidence. “Well?” she demanded of the beast. “Begone from this place, foul one! Trouble Trixie no more!”
She took a few steps toward the spirit, making sure she was between Despair and the foals. “Shoo,” she said, impatiently waving a hoof.
“Foolish mare,” Despair laughed. “Did you really think I would simply go away? I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and I am free to do as I please. This town, this nation will crumble in my wake.”
Trixie quirked an eyebrow. “Trixie thinks that somepony didn’t read the fine print.”
“Eh?” Despair said. Suddenly, he was painfully aware of a cold wind blowing past him.
“It's just more misdirection. Legal misdirection, much nastier than anything Trixie would dream of. You filled your role. You did what you had to. You got your payment. Anything else would be giving you more than Evening got back, and worse yet, it would be a challenge to whatever power he'd gathered. He'd never stand for that.”
“No. No! I was promised freedom!”
“What did you think you had all day?” Trixie shouted back over the sound of rushing wind. The runes began to spiral in wild patterns and chunks of ethereal wall broke away. “Discord’s in the details, Despair!”
The spirit let out a howl of rage as his physical form collapsed. “Curse you! Curse you all!” Despair flashed a bright, almost blinding, white, and a blast of energy filled the room. The last thing Trixie remembered doing was throwing up a shield spell.


***

Pinkie Pie paused as the small group made their way down the hall. “Twitchy tail!”
The other three Ponyvillians glanced at one another and then dove into a nearby office. The Brigadier watched, nonplussed, as three grown mares all tried to cram themselves under a desk. “What in Celestia’s name?”
Rarity poked her head out for a moment. “Darling. A word of advice. If Pinkie Pie’s tail twitches, it is always wisest to--”
“Duck and cover!” Pinkie squealed, tail vibrating like a tuning fork. She grabbed Brigadier Bombardier and forced all four of the other mares under the desk before squeezing herself into one of its drawers.
The building rumbled and shook. There was a sound like an avalanche. Then, silence.
One by one, the five mares squashed their way free of the desk. There was a moment of reorientation, stretching limbs and twisting spines back into positions. 
Then, Twilight froze. “Trixie,” she said before running off. The others quickly came to the same conclusion and followed close behind her. 
Around them, the effects of Despair’s reign were already beginning to fade. The fires had gone out and the mold was gone, though everything that had been destroyed remained so. All up and down the corridors, mill-workers were waking up, bleary-eyed, from their waking nightmares. The five mares ran on. The mill-workers could take care of themselves.
Outside, they heard the shouts and cries of a platoon realizing that they were no longer blocked by a wall of heat. The Brigadier glanced out through a hole in the wall with concern. “Go,” Twilight ordered. “Stand them down and get them to organize evacuation efforts.”
Bombardier gave a short nod and was away.
It took the four remaining mares about three minutes to reach the door they wanted. It hung ajar, and rock dust floated in the air. Sunshine filtered through into the hall. Immediately, Twilight was through the door, levitating away chunks of rubble like a mare possessed. Rarity quickly followed suit. If Trixie was injured-- or, heaven forbid, worse-- she knew where that blame would fall. Where it deserved to fall. Dear Celestia, Snips and Snails would have been in here, too…
Then, a hunk of rock fell away, and a pink glow filtered through. Unmistakably Trixie’s magic. Twilight hauled away the rest of the rubble around it. There was a shield spell up. It encased the unconscious, but still-breathing forms of Snips and Snails. But there was no sign of Trixie.
“The spell is still active,” Rarity said. “She must be maintaining it somehow.”
That was enough to galvanize Twilight back into action, throwing chunks of rock out of the way. “Dash, can you get Snips and Snails to the hospital?”
“On it!”
There were three, then. Rarity and Twilight continued moving rubble as best they were able while Pinkie bounced in place, full of nervous energy.
And then they found her.
She was still breathing.
That was the only positive.
Rarity cast around wildly. “Fabric,” she said unintelligibly. “We need to make splints, a makeshift cot…”
Twilight shut her eyes tight and her horn flared. Trixie’s prone form lit up violet and froze stiff. “Time dilation,” she said, strained. “Nothing to do-- until paramedics arrive.”


***

The paramedics did indeed arrive, not long afterwards. That had been some hour and a half ago. Twilight had returned to her castle to see the displaced townsponies settled in. Pinkie had gone to visit the Cake twins. Rainbow Dash was passed out at Sweet Apple Acres after a very, very long day. Evening had fallen. Rarity remained in the waiting room. Waiting.
At length, she saw a familiar cutie mark pass by. “Nurse Redheart?” she called, stumbling upright. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“If you can keep up,” the mare called back, already rounding a corner. Rarity hurried in pursuit.
“Trixie,” she said. “How is she?”
“You realize I’m not meant to impart that sort of information to non-family members, don’t you?”
Rarity flinched back. “Ah, of course. My apologies.”
Redheart shook her head and waved her on. “I’ll tell you this much. She’s lost a lot of blood. More than we have handy. It doesn’t look good, but she’s a tough one.”
“Hm,” said Rarity. “What’s her blood type?”
“AB-negative,” Redheart replied. “Meaning she can’t take your A-positive, I’m afraid, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“I see. Thank you. I have to go.”


***

There was a knock at the door of room 37. Written Script let it swing open. Carrot didn’t look up. “Stupid,” she breathed, staring at Snails’ sleeping form. They had been bruised in several places, but no serious harm had been done. Not to Snails, anyway.
“Hello, Carrot.”
“Go drive yourself into a railroad tie, Rarity.”
“Later, perhaps. I wanted to ask you a favor.”
Silence reigned. Rarity soldiered on. “You have type-O blood, don’t you, Carrot? You were almost the only one in the village, apart from Cranky Doodle.”
“So?”
“So the hospital needs more blood. Trixie lost, I’m told, a dangerous amount.”
“Get it from Canterlot.”
“That will take time. Time that Trixie likely doesn’t have.”
Carrot glared at a wall. “Why does it have to be me?”
“It doesn’t. I’m sure I can track down a type AB-negative donor faster than any blood can arrive by rail. But Carrot…” Rarity looked down at Snails. “She saved them.”
A pause. A sigh. “Where’s the needle, already?”


***

Rarity left the hospital some half-hour later. She was tired. She wanted to go home, to sleep. But she fumbled in her saddlebags and pulled out a scrap of cloth. It was wisteria, covered in stars and moons. Where the hat had come from, nopony could guess. There was still work to be done tonight. She looked up at the castle. There was work to be prepared for on the morrow, as well. She gave a weary sigh and made her way up to see Twilight and get the information she would need.