//------------------------------// // Loop 88 // Story: The Time Thief // by Reading4HalfMyLife //------------------------------// You would think that a war between the Yaks, Dragons and Gryphons Vs. ponykind would be a fairly easy battle. The three allies, did, after all, outnumber the ponies by a wide margin, and were known for being experts in the art of fighting. And, for some parts, it was easy. In terms of troops, the alliance known as the 'Spindle' not only outnumbered them, but with the magic proof dragons, even ponies best Mages couldn't dent them. Well, save for one. This mare, as Celestia had been informed it was a she, would blitz into the battlefield in her own personal armour, and massacre hundreds of enemies, before vanishing again. Most of the time, the enemies were part The Spindle, but at other times, this mare would turn on her own kind. Celestia could not find a single mention of this mare anywhere, and it was clear that she was not part of her guard, or anyone elses for that matter. She may of have been a mercanery, but who hired her? And why would she be killing both sides? To make matters worse, Twilight, their usual negotiator, wasn't feeling up to par, ever since her daughter, Princess Astral Plane, had gone missing. Popular theory was that the enemy took her, but they denied all knowledge. Well. They would, wouldn't they? Astral's mind felt split in two, yet at the same time not. Two seperate voices, one distinct, one muted seemed to be talking. But, whenever she tried to focus inwards, the louder voice would get louder, forcing her to focus on the here and now- D̴͉̦̝͎̙͛̎u̵̙̫̲͂̈́̎͠c̸͕͈͉̭̿͒͘͠͝k̶̢̮̭͉͚̖̘͋ She did, falling into a basic barrell roll to avoid the Gryphon's sword, swinging one of her Shards (and how many did she have now? She had stopped counting ages ago) upwards and tearing of it's head. She used the fallen sword to skewer a dragon in the eye before moving onwards. When her opponents saw her, many had tried to flee. Not that it did them much good. somethings wrong F̸̨̧̡̢̨̨̨̡̨̨̨̢̡̧̛̛̛͇͓̱̜͍̱̬͔̙̲͚̼̲̼̯̪̦͈͈̹̯͙̪̳͙͙͙̩̥̭̮͈͙̗͎̱͍̺̩̬͖̥̤̗̤͇̘̩͍̜͕̼̻͖̲̠̤͇̹̱̜͇̫̬̱̠̺̝̘̠͎̥̲͍̫̺̿̈́̐̈́̏͌̍͗̋͆̈́̂̀̎̏͊͗͌̈̄̍̅̉̈́̒̄̌͂̇̒̈́̉̈́͋̃̅̾̈̐̄́̐̉̎̽̔́͒̆͐͊̉͆̒͑͋̅͒͆̀͒̔͗̀͐̔̑̓͆̓̓͗́͋̌͑͑̽̚̕̕͘̕̚͘͜͜͠͠͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅǬ̵̡̛̙͔̦̹͎͍̫̱̩̺͍̱̥̭́̅̈́͂͌̅̽̌̃́̚ͅC̶̡̧̧̛̙͇͇̼̠̻͔͍͇̣͓͉̫͉̮̖͎͖̖̺͓͇̠̟̫̞̰̙͈̝͔̮͍͖͚̦͖̹͇͚̤͉̤͓̤̪̯̲̤͙̹̜̳̓̎̒̍̏̌̆͛͌̐̂̆̆͑͑͐̉͊͌͐͐̊̓̎̊̇͆͗́̎̉̒͂̽̕͜͝͝͝͠U̷̧̧̡̨̦̩̳͖̳̟̺̜̠̯͚̳͓͓̠̪̻̰̺̮͎̙͇̫̖̲̩̤̫̠̣̟͎̫̼̥̯̤̤̳̯͈̯͖̲̝̺̺͕̟͔͍̺͙͇͇͗̿͂͑͌͌̎͒͆̔̓̎̍́̏͐͂̽̆͂͐̿̿͛͋̃̉̽̂͌̓̓͐̀͑̓̆̈͗͋͒̏̈́́̈́̅̕̕͜͠͠ͅͅͅS̸̢̢̡̛̛̛̫͎͉̟͎̬̪̠̮̝̦̦̘͕̳̳̻̰̲̹͔̞͎͈̫̗̟͕̝̈́̄̋͌͌̅́̋͒̍̈́̔͛͋̏̋͐̀̉̎̀̉̎͑̑̐͒̈́́͋͗̄̒͂́̏́̅̑͋̅̋͆̿̐͋̇̓̃̅̈́͑̚͘̚̕̕͘̚͜͝͠͠͝͝ i dont understand why are you doing this Eventually, she ran out of things to kill, and so sat down in the middle of the battlefield, breathing heavily. She knew the ponies would be coming soon, and she would be better off moving- k̷͓͈̒͝i̶͙͑͝l̷̝̽l̸͎̑̃͜ ̴̰̔͜t̴̛̲̜ḣ̷̝é̸̩͘m̴͔̹̽̂ ̶̱͚͒t̸̊ͅo̷̰̔̍o̸͕̔ She blinked up at the sky for a moment. Why? She was a- She was a- What was she again? She glanced down, vision blurring slightly at the edges as she stared down at her . . hooves? K̸͔̜̱͔͇̣̈͂̄̇̾̓̓̀̇͐͊̅̇̈́͘̚Ì̵̧̧̼̖̥̺̹̗̻̜̆͂͐͆͒̌̑̊̍͠L̵̨͈̜͚̰͗̐̔̉̓̀Ḷ̴̍͑̈́̄̀̅̿͋̉͝ ̶̨̼̲̹̦̩̬̼̺͆̿͜Ţ̸̝͇̝͔͓͕͍̝̪̻̫͖̻̳̑̈H̶̡̦̠͚̯̼̭̥̙̤̘̬̩̰̀̍̇̅̇̕É̴̆̿̔̊͗̓̓́̌̈́̒̀̓̐̾̏͊̕̕͜M̸̺͉͚̜͚̫̟͇̍̑̿̉̐̈́̾̂́̏̊̍̅̅͋̕ ̶̨̧̙̰̱̝͉͈̳͔̯̝̞̗̘̺̙̼͚̮̟̀̀͛̎T̴̛͕͇͂͊̉̂̀̒̔̄̇͒̀̌͒͘̚O̶̢̨̘̪͕̝̝̫͓͚͖̩̝͈̹͓̗̪̾̄̑́̿̂̿͆̉̒̈́̓̀͘̕͝͝O̵̗̮̒̌̏̄͗̈͋̈͆͛ why A faint echo, an idea not even realised. "Why?" She asked outloud. "Why do I need to do that?" K̴̡̢̢̢̡̛̫͔͖̮͓̼̟̻͚͇͔̠̤͇͖̱̦̦͈̲͈̼̬͒̾̓́̉̇̃́̀͛̿̀͑̎͋̑̀́̄͋͑̈́̀̓̈́̔̒̓͊̏͌͂̄̕͜ͅͅȈ̴̢̨̨̛͓͖̠̥̤̤̩̞̖̗̭̘̟̭̘̞̺̗̰̳͋̔̀̿̒̈͑́̈́̓̍͐̈́̿͝͝͝L̷̟͗̆̈́̅́̂̌͆L̴̝̼͚̦̬̞̜̝̥̻͚̳͍̱̘̯͇̩̪̲̜͓͉̺̟̗̯̪̖̖̼̞̂̕ͅͅ ̸̡̢̢̺̳͖͈̹̯̣̖̖͓̩͕̩̣͙̪̣̥̳͎̞̇̂̿́̈́͆͐̎̽̃͒̂̈͑͒͛̄̒͂̏͋̊̓͐̀̒̆̕̕͜͜͠ͅT̵̢̽͒́̀̑͂͐͆͋̉͛̒̊̈̔̀́̓̃͌̈̍͊̎͋̇̔̂̆̾̚͜͝H̵̨̢̧̡̛͙̮̤̻̬̻͕̱̦̠͈̤͇̝̠̤̙͎̥̟̼͚͇̯̩̭̟͔̔̔͊̅͛̔̂̃̇̈̈́͌̅͆̒̀̀̿̚͘̚͠͝Ę̷̠̂ͅM̵̡̡̞̪̞̠̫͖̰̟̪̪̩͖͔̺̼̠̗̗̦̠̼̻̍̈̒͋̒̄͜͜ͅ ̶͎̗̯̣͓̞̬͉̳̔͗͆́̎͋̈̿̒̂͐̏̈́͊̑̂̓̔͊͒̔̓̃͐̀̕͠͠ͅT̷̨̛̬̣͍͍͇̭͍̹͇͆̀͑̌́̿̓̅̅͋͗̅̓̐̊̏͒̓̀̈́̑̉͋̀͗͊͒͋̉͘̚͝͠͝͝Ơ̶̡̢̞͔̩̝͕͍͚͎̻̙͎̱̖̯̟̗͇͓̼̗̘̤̯͉̬̩̥̞̻͐̅͂͜Ò̸̢̥͈͚̬̯̤͔̞̙̹̼͓̩͕̫̲̰̠͚̟̺̮͎̒́̈́͆̀̇̽̃̍̀͒̊̉͗́̌̈́̑̍͌̈́̌̚̕͘͜͠͝͝ Sudden, startling pain, like a knife being stabbed into her temples, and she gasped, curling inwards instinctively. Y̴̢̡̡̛͔͈̝̗̫̪͓͎̝̞͎͎̠̰̳͇̬̣̅͌͊͌̾̊̽͋̉̐͛̈́̽͋̾̇̊̎͝͝O̸̡̡̢̻͖̗̦̪̘̙̻̭̰̭̗̣̟̳͈̙͇͊U̷̢͕̮͍̤̥̮̻̬̗͙̮͚̪̗̣̝̦̝͖̳̞̗̖̯̾̽̏̉͊͆̒͋͐̽̔̄͗̎̕͘͝͝ͅ ̴̨̯̗̌̾̉̀̉͑̿Ḑ̵̠̞̬̤͈̜͚͈̗͎̘̦͙̮̞̤͖͙̯̗͎̘̮͉̍̿̊͒͊͛̇͂̈̃́́̌̀̍͋̄̏̅͒̾̍̍̚͜͜͠Ã̶̢̧̛̯͉͉̲̮̭͚͎̠̼͈̜̫͚̼͚̼̝̦̮̙̭͉̫̾͐͆̈͋̅͒̎̌̂̃́̏̄̀̃͘̕͝R̶̢͇̰̜̣͙̝̙͍̗͙͙̲̠̹̥̞̲̹̭̎̒̍̑̐̈͗́̈́̐́̾̌̆̍͐̍̒̔̒͘͘͝Ȩ̴̧̨̨̰͚̻̻̹͙̥̞̠͖̥̙̈̀̚ͅͅ ̶̨̢̨̟̜̘̻̗̯͉͙͖̠̟̯̠̫̦̗͎̰͖͎͈̳̬͗̌̋͊̀͘̚͝͝ͅQ̴̧͚̣͓̺̬̩͖̙͈̞̩̱͙͚̗̽́͌́̓̈́̓̊̏̋͗̕͝͝͠͠ͅŲ̶̡͉̫̱̳̝̤̪̯͖͇͖̤̟̫̗̘͍̗̪̝̂̿́͒͌̾̓̉́̒͋̔͐̒̀̉̔̾̎́͛̌̒̂́̚͝ͅE̸̛̠̲̼͍͇͎̜̞̋̓́͑̑́͑̄͐̀͊͂̆̏͊̿̕̚͝ͅS̸̭͎̗͍̗̮̥͚̈́̀̃́͆͛̑̈̆̐͘͝͝T̸̠̤̙̜͎̪͎̗̹̎̽͌̐̀̏̓͆͆́̀͠Ỉ̸̹͑́̀͗̑́͐̏̐̋͝Ơ̵̡̨̞̰̭̈́̑͆̊̍̊̒͆̓̈́̅̏̕͝͝͝͝ͅN̸̛̝͕̅̇͑͛̎̍̆̔̔̂̀̇͊͂̑͛́̏̓͗͛͘͘͠͝ ̸̢̨̭̳̻̥̟͖̜̟̯̱̤̹̭̝̼̲̺̩̥͖̞̯̻̾͆̑̈̿ͅṂ̵̡̜̱͇͔̲̮̜̣̹͔̲̹̳͖̝̦̜͈͇͎͍̝̅̂̈́̆͊̇͂͆͆͋̆̀̽̎͗͜Ę̵̛̲̮͈͉̙̋̿̈́̈́͑̃̎͒̃̈́̈́͊̍͛̉̕͠?̷̺̳͇̔̇͊̃͋̍̀ ̸̦̈́͌͒̌̋̑̿̑̿̋̾̈́̈́̾̊̿̿̎͗͑̿̽̓̚͘ ̷̢̝͎͕͓͈̙͓͖̝̥̬̣̦̾͆͐̽̈́͑̌̆̏̈͌͛̿̏͛͘͜N̷̞͔͖̙̭͕̯̱̊̌̉̈́͑̍̉̋͝Ỏ̸̢̧̡̨̳̥̖̘̘͍͚̺̺͍̪̻͈̩͕̫̣̘̲̯̣̘͇̄́̓̔̔̍͗̍͘B̸̯͂̀̐̏̊̅̍͐͑̆͋̆̀̏͑̆̈́̐̓̇͊͊̏̔̈̕͘O̶̠̝̺͕̓̾̿̾̓̾͂͒̈́̃͛̒̋͝D̶̝̜͔̠͓̘̄̔́͑Y̶̧̡̫̮̠͎̬̖̫̻̥̳̺̦͈͖͕̖̩̞̎̀̃͒̀̍͒̎̑̂͒̈́̀̉̌͒̈̏̀̃͒͠ ̵̧̡̛͉̗̪̗̘̮͍̣̦͚̮͓͙͔͚̺̲̗͙͖̑̈́̾͆͛̆̑̿̕͝ͅͅŴ̵̧̱͔͍̟̣̺͕̻̊́̈͆̋͂̈̏́̽́̈́͒͘̕͠͝I̷̧͕̖̦̜͛̉̾́̾̆̃́͑͋͊̀͂̾̌͐͗̈́͋͘͠͝Ĺ̸̫̝̀͒̓̽̽͒͊̀͐L̵̡̛͚͈͈͕͕̬͈̳̲̥̯̜̼̩̗͇̺̏̾̊͑͊͗̐͗͌̅̔̈́̈́͌̈́͋̂̿̌̽͑̌͝͠ͅ ̸̡̿̈́͌̃̓̈́͋͂͛̈͂̎́̀̒̉͠H̷̛͓͖̣̤̟̼͉̱̘̠͍̹̻̻͔̫̝̥̉͛̐͋̓̈́̑͑̈́͌͌̃̿̄̈́̔̔͛̐̾̿̏̒͜Ȩ̶̛̙͈͔̪̯͍̜̼̏̎͌̾͆̃́͒̅̔͂̎͊́́̊͊̑̋̂̀͝͝L̸̢̢̡̝̙͍͎̥̯̝̝͕̭̗̝̙͎̭̙͎̂̃̌̿̃̈́̃͋̃͒̈́̓̌̊̇͗̓̿͗̓͒́̀͜͜͝͝ͅͅP̵̨̡̨̛̫͙̺͔̫̻̼̭̲͉͈̘̘̹͓̠̺͔̬̻̮̼̝̹͛̆͑̌͆̃͐͐͌̏͛̆͑̆̾̌̈̑̃̉͂̄͘͘͝ ̷̗̻͇̳͑̋̂́̿̋̔̀͂̂͐̈͆̈̏͑̽̆͘̚͠͝Ỷ̵̧̢̢̢̜̩͙̠̰̣̠̩͈̩̦̪͔̫̦̬̯̰̥̜̄́́͜Õ̵̢̲̘͙̭̤̝͚̗̹͙̘̱͉̯̦͓̬͍͋͐̑̍̇̎͛̈͋̈́͊͊͑̈̂̔̀̚̚͝͠͠Ů̶̳͓͈̭̻̬̠̼͖̘̥̝̩̬͙̺̠̭̺̫̒̉͗͆̓̈͛̏̈̀̏͐̀̇̇̃͗̇̂̚͜͝ͅ ̸̡͔̞̟̺̜̳͆͘i will ̷̡̡̛͖̯͕͓̖̦̼̰̦̯̗͕̪͓̺̠̟͇͚͔̍̅͗͐̉̋̊͗̎́̋̍̈́̈́͂̉̓͗̾͛̌̆͒̚͘̚͜͜͠ͅÑ̵̙̭̌̈̀̑͒̇̇̽̕O̸̻̊̆́͒̊̂̂͒̊̓̈́̋̚͘͝͝Ḅ̴̡̛̛̰̥͔̗̻͇͙͓̪̈̎̃̄̆̀̇͂͒̔̾̀̏̂̄̄̀̋̒͑͘͘͘̚̚͜ͅŌ̶̡͍̘͙͓̽̾̐̊͠D̵͍̺̹͖̜͖̖̦̞̦̳͕̘̻͎̩͖̱̖̼̫͎͕̘̩͌͂͋̇̐̔̓͜͠Ŷ̴̨̢͙̻͇̝̃̊͋̽̑̑̀̈́͂̂̒̃̊̈̿̈́̿̇͊͗͌̃̓̚͝͝͠ ̴̞͚̼͍̞̤͍̰̣̗͉͉̠̇͂͜ͅW̸̡̢̧̛͔͇̮̅̈̇̒̃̽̿͐̈́̇̑̔̚͘̕͝I̶̡̛͈̭͓̳̺͎͙̦̲͔͎̞̯̻̠̼̦͎͕̥̫͇̙͕͓̓͐̑̃̽͑̔̓̈̀͐̾̐̎̾̌́̾͝͝ͅͅĻ̴̢̨͎̥̱̳̭͕͈̖͎̥͕͙̖̤̬͔̫̩̲̊̓͑́̇̐̒͜͜ͅĻ̶̻͈͉͎͓̭̻̳̞̰̳̜̻̹̝͆̾̀͗͆̈̆̅͋͠ ̴͎͍͎̳̗̲̲̦͈̈́͊̊̈́̂̈́̎͑̌̿̿̈͆̇̌̽̈́̌̚̕͝S̸̛̺̞͕̰̰̦͎̖̮͈̩̘̙͍͎̠̱̜̳̝̞̐̃̔̅̾̕͘͜͜͝A̷̫̤͎͈͕̮͖̩̠̘̻̟̳͇͔̝͉̰̯̞͇̤͖̫̱͆̌̔͂͌̉̀̕͝V̶̛̙͎̬̭͔͚̼̟̜̱͔̗̙̙̰̻̪͚̤͙̦̞͒̄̎̅͌̌͆̓̊͐̍͊̐̂͠͝E̵̢̢̢̼̙̗͕̤̞̫̳̱̻̱̱͉͔̞̟̠̻̪͍̭͍͓̙̿͑̄͊͂͗̄͋̈̅̌ ̷̡̢̛͓̮͉̰̰͙̝̭͎̗̆̐̔́̎͋́̾̌͋͐̂̑́̎́̀̈̈́̃̐͑̋̅̀͘͠Ŷ̴̨̡̢̛̰͓̬̙̙̤̳̮͎͈͔̹̮̯̰̈́̉̆̈́̃̈̄̂̍͗̏̉̄̾̆̍͊̈́̍̎̌͊͑͗͋Ǫ̴̡̡̡̡͚̺̳̱̮̘̥͍̞̪͇̘̗͕̠̮̳̻͍̗̼̌̄͋̆̅̄͌͐̋͘Ụ̶̹̐̉ i will Her head grew hotter and hotter, and she found it hard to breathe, back legs spazming from the pain of it all. i can help Y̷̡̛͈̜̺̘̹̭͖̬̬̹͖̳̱̜̟̘̬̖͈͖͎̥͇̝̭͙̹͓̯͎̺̭̞̜͇̝̥̹̟͂̀̆̓̈́̀͑͋͒̋̐͒̽̈́̊̍͊̈̈͊̎̐̇̿̌̍̒̄̈̿͐̑̅̆͘̕̚̚͝͝͝͝ͅŌ̸̧͚̻̜̮͓̼̱̯̖̮̤̯̮̯̪̯̿͒̿͐̐̎͌̈́̎̕ͅU̶̡̖̟̺͈̥̙͓̬̠̰̽̊͗̔̏̇́̔̑̾͒͂̒̔͆̏̅̽̉̍́̇̇͊̒͒͑̽̈͘̚̚͝͝ ̵̡̡̢̨̡̧̛̼̲̩̥̰̙̮̹͍̤̳͓̘̰͚̠̮̦̲̯͍̗̻̳̝͍̼̙̤̖̝͚̺̗̠͎̮̭͓̲̳̈́̋̇̈̓̑̒̐̂͛̈̏͐̆̌͂̈́̑̀̄̀͂̈́̄̏͆͒̒̾̌̊̈̋̔̋͒̅̀̓̾̇͘̕͘̕͜ͅͅÄ̶̢̢̧̡̨̻̰̣̳̭͉̭̙̫͍̪̬̹͙͚̰̗̣̰̻̰̙͓͈̺͍̺̫̮̤̠̰͓̮̝̭͉̹͋̇͐́͗͛̇̈́̓̓͂̇̈̈́͊̎̀̀̀̍̄͛̆́̄̏͘͜ͅͅR̶̢̡̛̭̦̼̠͇̪̞̦̤̖̬̻̺͔̹͔͍̻̼̦̺͖͍͈̱̭̲͚͎͗̈́̿̂̿̀͂̌͋̍̂̋̉͌̅̿͛̇̀̊̈́̓̚͘̕͜͠͠ͅE̶̛̛͉̠̬͇̦̞̣̥͔̘͕͙̩̝̘͕̜̓͂́͛͛̐̈͒͒̏̈̈́̒̑́̐͌̈́͗̿͗̓̈́͆̿̃͘̕̕͜ ̸̡̨̧̧̧̪̼̫͇̗̖̗̯̪̲̖͕͔̗͚̩̲̃̄̍̓̎͊͒̋̍̐̀͗̌͌̋͒̓͊̍̋̀̐̆͐͑̔͒̃̅͆͘̚̕̚̕͝͠͝͝ͅͅM̵̨̧̡͎̺̗̟̹͖̮̘̟̘͎̣̙͚͕̬̙̠̩͓̖͙̬̤̟̣̖̤̹͈͙̿̋͂̊̔͋̕͝ͅĬ̵̢̡̯̥͍̖̲̠̞̙̮͓̼̳͙̱̭̰̟̙̦͕̅͛̾͋̾̎̉̈̊̿̑̓̕͝͠N̷̝͐̈̎͛́́͂̏͗͑͑̅̇̋́̏͋̔̃̈́̄̄͗̇̂͗͌͐̀̉͂̍̈̍̈́͂̅͋̌̒́̚͘̕̕͠͝Ę̸̭̜̮̟̫̦̣̥̫͂̅͌̽̏͑́͑̅̔̉̓͐ ̴̡̧̨̨̱̣̝͇̥̣̤̲̙͎͇̪̜̳̫̺͖̣̝̳̬̖̣͚̫͖̟̳̭͎̭̭̳̱̘͇̪͉̳̉͐͐̚ͅi will help ̵̨̨̢̢͓͓̗͖̙̙̼̞̤̲̗̤̘̱̮̜͉̜̝̥̭͚͎̦͚̯̖̙̳͔̥͐̀͛̽̔͐̌́̇̽̋̒͐̂͂̅̈́̒̿͂̾͂̈́̐̈́̃̏̆̈́͊̏̈͘͘͘͘͜͝ͅͅN̴̨͈̖̭̰̯̺̱̯͖͓̦͈̗̩̗̥͍͍͐̇̇͆͆̽̀͛́͗͆̇́̃̈̌̽̕͜͝͝͠ͅO̵̢̨̢͈̜̞͓̩͈̫̲̮̺͎̯̣͕̮̱̠̗͎͉̫͔̞͍̞͎̹̜̯͈̟̖̗̩̟̝̗͓̐̅̈͜͜͜ͅͅͅB̵̧̡̢̢̩̣̠̗͈͖̗͎̯͇̲͈͓̬̹̺̞͈̳̫̤̪̯̞̋́̒͑̿̎̂̓̈́͋͛̎̿͆͊͂͗ͅͅǪ̶͖͙͚̺͎͇̻̘̿̓̄̎̈́͂̏́̆̀͋͆̈́̓̔͂̀́́͌̍̀́̂͆͂̓̕̕͘̕͜͠͠͝D̶̖̥̺̬̬̜͈̫̦̹̦͔͕̗̄̇̈́̎̎̃̀͑̅̈́͗̓̉̏̌̋̑͊̆̉̊̔͑͋̐̂̽̑̎̄͛̈́̌̃͗̂̎̾͊̀́͘̕̕͠͠͝ͅY̵͈͘ ̶̢̧̢̧̨̨͙̣͓̤̼̱͚͔̼̻̳͕̥̲͍̦̘̭̬̣̫̘̤̜̟̠͈͇͔̞̞͈͙̮̹̹͉̑̊͂̐͒́͋̎̋̋͆̅̅͌̈͒̂̎̇͆̓͒͛͑̈́̀̕̕͜͝͝ͅȄ̸̡̢̨̫̳͖̪͙͎͚̜̖̭̘͈̰̮̯͉͔̖̪̳̬͍͍̹͇̹̯͚͓̬̘̞̲̭̀̔́̒̾͂͐͒̍̀͂́̓̒́̅̍̆̓̐͑͋͐̌̇̚͜͜͝͝͝͝L̸̛͖̖̲͍̩̘̭̣̝̄̐͌̓̾̔̂̉͑̿̍͊̎͒̄͂̃̏̾̐͑̇̈́̚͝͠ͅŠ̸̡̡̱̯͍̺̭͕̼̪̫̗̜̠͍̼͓̳̆̉͑͊̌̎̀̉̾̈͂͛̒͗̌̒̐̄͑͂͋́͗̕̚͜͜͠͝ͅE̵̢̡̧̛͇̫̬̩̫̜̟̬͈̪̼̭̹͉̳̻̟̱̜̳̹̳̰̟̮͓̎̋̇͋͌̃͊͗̆͂̋͌͌͛̑́͊̐̋̆͋̀͐̊͒̿͐̆̀̔̕͜͝ just . . think of spring think of your family, of your friends of happiness and health just. . think of spring Distant voices sounded far away, and she rose up to meet them, blade at the ready as she faced down ponykind. The distinct only voice in her head exalted at this, happy to have her obey listen. And, when it was over, and she was allowed to sleep, she curled up. And dreamt of spring.