//------------------------------//
// Discover 
// Story: blackpest 
// by mushroompone 
//------------------------------//

I took this walk every Sunday morning.

Down the street from Golden Oaks, up past Rarity’s Boutique, a right at the diner, a quick trot through the Everfree, and home before Spike was awake.

A simple thing. A routine. Some familiarity.

More than that, though, it made me feel so much more like I belonged here. All my life before this was spent in Canterlot, never knowing the little nooks and crannies, the alleyways, the potted plants with tiny statutes of frogs and snails and birds. I hadn't ever noticed graffiti tags, or peeling paint, or rusted fire escapes. The city streets were a place to pass through, not a thing as alive and individualized as… well, as it should have been, I suppose.

Ponyville was different. 

Or maybe I was different. 

Or maybe both.

This was the thing that made me real and whole. This was the thing that made me a Ponyvillian. To myself, and to everyone else.

I took the walk with purpose, every single week. Happy to be out in the fresh morning air. Thrilled to check in on the carved initials in the trees, to run my hoof along the rosemary bush and sniff deeply of its perfume, to follow the cobblestones like a foal afraid of breaking their mother's back.

This morning, though, I couldn’t make myself take another step.

I stood at the edge of the Everfree Forest. The wind blew through the trees with a sound so low and fuzzy and distant it could have been static. In fact, it felt like static… it felt like static had overtaken me, wrapped me up in its ambiguous grasp and squeezed all the feeling out of me.

It took immense concentration to keep myself tethered to reality, to feel the coldness of the damp earth beneath my hooves. I felt a mere blink away from the world of dreams.

I shivered.

I felt so small. My breath was so tiny and light. The forest loomed before me, and I felt no bigger than a mouse… or maybe a songbird, my head twitching from side to side, my fur standing on end like fluffed-up feathers.

Like a hummingbird. Hovering. Heart drumming.

Why today? Why this morning?

I counted, quickly, to make sure today was Sunday.

I looked up to the sun to check the time.

Then back over my shoulder, to make sure I’d come to the right place.

I had.

Everything was the same as always. Same old morning walk, same old trees, same old shrubs and sidewalks, same old air.

But it didn't feel the same at all.

It was like when you were young, on the morning of a field trip. When the air was wet and the grass full of dew and it felt like school but not. And there was no real reason for it to feel different at all, of course, because you had gotten up the same time as always and gone straight to school like always.

But breakfast tasted different. And the schoolyard smelled different.

There would be this almost electric feeling in the air, a whirring and spinning anticipation that shot pure, cold energy directly into the heart of every foal.

The icy electricity ran back-and-forth over and through me.

The wind picked up and swelled over the Everfree in a great wave. My mane tickled against my cheek.

Somewhere, in the very back of my mind, I thought it wasn’t real. Whatever it was that kept me glued to this spot, whatever fear or anxiety, it wasn’t real. I was the champion of irrational fears, after all. So often had I been struck by immobilizing terror over the simplest of things. It would be a shock to find the exception to this rule on an otherwise mundane morning.

But then I saw it.

It was… well. It wasn't natural. That was all I could say for sure. 

And it wasn’t wedged between two rocks, and it didn’t have soil kicked over it. It had been placed very delicately and deliberately in the shadow of a large, untrimmed hedge. The early morning sun could barely manage a shadow, of course, but the dappled pattern of the leaves was still visible on its surface.

It was rectangular, made of smooth, grey plastic, and about the size of my hoof. Perhaps a little larger. About a centimetre thick.

I stepped towards the shrub. From the way my shoulders clicked, I had to assume I had been frozen longer than perhaps I'd felt.

The item was not uniform. It had marks etched into its surface, a sort of ribbing. A large, flat area outlined and yet, strangely empty.

My magic was about to close around it when my mind kicked back on.

Somepony had dropped this… right?

I backpedaled a little bit and surveyed the area. "Hello?" My voice echoed strangely. Or maybe not strangely at all. "Hello? Is anypony there?"

Not a sound. Not one hoofstep out of place, not one wingbeat or snapped twig or even a breath of wind.

"Hello…" I persisted, though not as urgently. "I think you dropped something…"

But my hooves carried me forward, and my magic locked around the mystery object. 

It didn't feel the least bit strange. Not a hint of magic in the thing.

I shook it. Something rattled, though only slightly. As if the thing inside it were held in place, but with a little room to breathe. Like a good deck of playing cards, sort of.

The object was open on one end, and I could see several dozen metal strips pasted down to the inner surface. 

"Twilight?"

I made an utterly inequine sound and instantly dropped the object, perhaps out of a strange sort of guilt for having been caught with it. My back arched up like a cat. I struck a vaguely defensive pose in the direction of my stalker.

Rarity, of course. 

Somehow it was always Rarity. 

"Oh, goodness!" A hoof flew to her mouth in surprise. She seemed just as scared as I was, like a snake or a bear or whatever that saying is about.

Her mane was done up in curlers and she was still wearing her slippers and robe. Never in my life had I seen Rarity leave her Boutique in slippers and a robe, much less without a tedious beauty routine and perfectly flowing curly locks.

I let out a breath of relief. "Rarity, you scared me!" I took another steadying breath and trotted towards my friend. "What are you doing out here?"

A bloom of embarrassment grew in Rarity's cheeks. "Oh, I just-- well, you see, I--" One hoof went to her mane, as if trying to hide it from me. "Goodness, I'm quite casual, aren't I?"

"Were you… following me?"

"No, no! Dear Celestia, no!" 

I cocked my head, but wasn't quite able to summon the question.

Rarity sighed. It seemed as if her entire body slumped with the sound. "For Celestia's sake, you take the same walk every Sunday, and always past my kitchen window," she explained, more exhausted than anything. "I was making morning tea and toast. I always am."

"You…" I swallowed hard. My heart was still throbbing from the scare. "You watch me?"

"Oh, no!" Rarity paused, then chuckled sheepishly. "Well… yes. Just to make sure you're safe! Ponies disappear in these woods, you know."

I looked at her. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, begging forgiveness for this intrusion without words.

"You were just gone so much longer than usual," she continued. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost, or… well, I don't know what, exactly."

I managed a small smile. "That's… that's really sweet, Rarity."

The blush swelled once more. She mirrored my tiny smile. "You're alright, aren't you?"

One more deep breath. "I'm alright. Promise."

It was Rarity's turn to breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. Oh, I was so worried you'd--" She stopped right there, mid-sentence like that. Her eyes sort of slid down to the ground. Her brows knit together. "What's that?"

I followed her gaze.

The object, now slightly dirtier than before, had been discarded by my side in the confrontation.

My heart clenched. Strangely, this seemed like the sort of thing I should have kept to myself. I couldn't pin down where the feeling came from, exactly, but letting my friends in on my discovery just seemed wrong.

"Um…" I stared at it, trying desperately to come up with an excuse. "I-- I dunno! Probably nothing, just some… litter."

Rarity wandered past me, though, lifting the object to inspect it herself. "That's quite strange… have you ever seen anything like this before?"

She passed it into my magic. I feigned a once-over of the object, already embarrassed by my inclination to hide the discovery. "N-no, I guess not."

"Interesting…" She took it back from me.

Rarity was engrossed, turning the object over and over in her grasp. I could see the little cogs of her creative mind whirring away, searching for details and patterns and--

"Who's Husk?" she asked.

"Who's… what?"

"Husk," Rarity repeated. She turned the object towards me. "It says it, you see? Right there at the bottom."

I took the object from her, inspecting where she indicated. There were, indeed, four tiny letters etched into the plastic:


HUSC


Just like that. There was no mistaking it, not even the misspelling. The letters were purposeful, clear, and obvious.

"Why is it spelled that way?" I asked, more to myself than Rarity if I'm honest.

"It must be one of those new wave spellings," Rarity assured me. "You know, I have a third cousin named Kandy Kane, spelled with two Ks. This must be… Corn Husk! Or-- or Husky… M-Muscles, maybe…"

I snickered. "Husky Muscles?"

Rarity clucked her tongue and made a motion which normal would have flipped her mane quite gracefully, yet now only caused her curlers to clatter against one another. She didn't say anything. I could fill in the blanks, though.

Another silence fell between us as we considered the object. The sound of the cicadas ebbed and flowed, slightly out of sync with the slow rhythm of the breeze.

"What do you think we should do with it?" I asked Rarity.

She sighed a high, mulling-it-over sigh. "Perhaps you should take it back to the library. Normally, I'd suggest leaving it where you found it, but…" She trailed off, considering the object. "Well, who knows what it is. It could get damaged in the elements. Ponyville is a small town; if somepony is looking for it, news will reach one of us eventually."

By 'one of us', of course, she meant 'one of the elements'. It was nice to be part of an 'us', I thought.

"Plus, it'll afford us a little more time to snoop," Rarity whispered, her voice musically excited. "I do love a good mystery!"

I merely laughed a little laugh, one without much power behind it.

"Come on, now," Rarity said, looping her front leg around mine. "Let's get you back to my place for some tea and toast."

Rarity began to pull me away, and I let her.

In my mind, I took a little photograph of the place.

Even then, I knew it was no accident. Maybe not consciously. But I knew. It was placed there so perfectly, so purposefully. A tiny difference in the usual. An exciting one, even.

Like I had wished it there myself.

The blanket of static began to melt away.

My first few steps felt hollow and uncoordinated, as if I were a puppeteer desperately trying to replicate a living pony. It all came back to me, of course, slowly but surely.

Rarity released my leg when we came upon the cobblestone street. Our hooves were in nearly perfect sync.

"How are you faring, darling?" Rarity asked.

She was looking at me with genuine concern and curiosity. 

I cocked my head. "Uh… with what?"

"Well, all that, er… let's say 'commotion' at the wedding," Rarity said, as light-hearted as she could manage. "You managed to put yourself back together for appearances, but I just… I'm worried about you, Twilight. I've a feeling you've put yourself last again. You're taking care of yourself, aren't you?"

For a moment, I felt like I couldn't speak. Having friends that know you this well was paralyzing at times.

At last, I managed to force out some sort of half-hearted snort. "I'm fine, Rarity. You don't have to worry about me. Promise."

"Yes, but--"

"It was Cadance who got… well, y'know," I said. The thought of her all bound up in one of those awful cocoons… "She's doing okay. I'm doing okay, too."

Rarity made a small sound of discontent. I could tell she was winding up for more lecturing, and I tried to head it off at the pass.

"Say, don't you have an exhibition coming up?" I asked. "Or, a… fashion line? Commission?"

We arrived at the step of the Boutique. Rarity's magic wrapped around the knob, but she paused and looked back over her shoulder at me.

She smiled at me, a tinge of sadness curling her lips. "Oh, I do love how little you know about my industry."

I blushed.

Rarity opened the door, into a Boutique with not a single light on. 

The mannequins looked somehow more eerie in the dark. Their blank faces weren't obviously so anymore; shadows cast over their forms made them appear almost lifelike. If she were smart enough, an intruder could hold perfectly still and go unnoticed in the crowd of hollow ponies.

But, of course Rarity would know if one were out of place. She would have noticed an extra mannequin in her herd. I tried to let that calm me down, but the anxiety was still there. Just a little glowing coal of doubt in my chest.

I followed Rarity through the gathering of mannequins, not unlike royal guards in formation, and into the kitchen. 

The enormous, round window lit the kitchen up quite nicely. She was lucky it faced east, I guess.

"Peach or vanilla?" Rarity asked. 

"Peach, please."

Rarity nodded, almost knowingly, and lit her horn.

Her talent with magic was impressive, even I had to admit. She wouldn't be shape-shifting any time soon, of course, but her ability to magically multi-task was unmatched. 

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, humming tunelessly to herself, eyes closed blissfully. The kitchen seemed to whirl around her as she stood there; mugs were brought down from the cabinets, tea bags dropped into the bottoms, kettle filling with water, bread slotted into the toaster, biscuits placed on the table… all at once. As if it were a dance. As if it were nothing.

"Make yourself comfortable, darling," Rarity instructed. "Have a biscuit."

I did as she asked, meandering over to the table by the window. "Thanks, Rarity."

"No trouble at all."

I put the object down in front of me on the table. I didn't have anything else to do with it, to be honest.

Rarity finished her preparations and joined me at the table. She took a biscuit and nibbled at it politely, watching to see if I would do the same. I mimicked her precisely.

Her gaze drifted to the somewhat dirty object on her table.

We stared down at it together.

"You don't think it's… dangerous, do you?" I asked softly.

"Oh, no! No, no, goodness, no." Rarity paused. Her face hardened, and she lowered her head to look closely at the object without touching it. As if it were some sort of animal.

I leaned down as well. The object looked somehow more menacing here, in Rarity's home. Like it had infiltrated us. Some little kernels of evil.

"Ooh…" Rarity's face soured. "Well, then again…"

We watched, waiting for the object to make a move.

Then, as if a lightning bolt of that cold power had struck us, we leapt back from the table. My chair squeaked along the floor.

The object remained unchanged.

Rarity looked up at me and laughed lightly. I laughed back.

The kettle began to whistle.

"I'm sure it's perfectly safe," Rarity said, getting to her hooves and moving back towards the stove.

The whistle of the kettle died out as Rarity removed it from the heat.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Yeah. Probably a toy, or something."

Probably a toy.

Probably just a lost toy. Nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about.