//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Complicated Complications // Story: Into the Deep // by TwilightSparkle484 //------------------------------// A dull pain flooded its way through my skull. It pulsated, like a heartbeat, filling my every breath with regret. My eyelids refused to open, the infinitesimal muscle movements now unbearable for my body. I could detect faint noises from somewhere above, yet the sounds blurred together in my semi-consciousness, making it impossible to distinguish the source. Slowly, the pain that assailed my head began to infiltrate my limbs, chest and back. I deduced that I was injured, and that the word ‘hurt’ had never been defined well enough. I struggled to recall what had inflicted this hurt. Memories of the crude map and cave-dwelling bats trickled into my mind, but nothing more. Something warm made contact with my forehead. The object was soothing, a soft, small weight that rested against my head. It alleviated the pain there significantly, which in turn, reduced the throbbing that permeated the remainder of my body. I laid supine, the cold surface below me assisting in soothing my back. I resisted the urge to think, allowing myself to recuperate and recuperate only. The pain continued to dissipate until it reached a plateau. To my relief, I no longer felt overwhelmed. Gradually, I cracked open one eye. Applejack stared back at me, a curious expression on her face. My vision returned to darkness as exhaustion gained the upper hoof. Seconds passed. I fought again to view the world, and this time, was successful in opening both of my eyes. Applejack was smiling, her hat missing from its place upon her head. “Well, it’s about time,” she chuckled. “You’ve been out for hours, Spike. Ya really had me worried there.” “Wha?” I managed to croak. I still hadn’t been able to remember what happened. “I’m just pullin’ your leg,” Applejack explained, grinning. “It ain’t been more than a half hour or so.” “Since what?” I coughed. Applejack’s face grew solemn. “You don’t remember?” I shook my head and immediately winced. Applejack sighed and gazed wearily at the floor. “You don’t remember,” she mumbled, more to herself than me. “I guess I got my hopes up when you didn’t look to be in too bad shape.” I shifted my weight to one side and awkwardly propped myself up on an elbow. “Can you at least tell me what happened?” “We heard a rumblin’ noise, and, all of a sudden, you started runnin’ downhill like a headless chicken.” Applejack shook her head in disapproval. “You slipped and knocked yourself unconscious.” I rubbed the back of my head tenderly. That explained the pain, along with the dizziness that was just beginning to affect me. Applejack unwound a cloth bandage from its spool. “I just wish you had listened to me. A concussion ain’t something to play around with.” “Hold on. A concussion?” I questioned, my face conveying an expression of dismay. “Eeyup.” Applejack snipped off a strip of the bandage and proceeded to wrap it around my head. “No doubt about that. Thank Celestia you had your helmet on. Ya fell hard and tumbled for quite a ways too. If you weren’t wearing it…” “No, no. I get the point,” I interjected, waving my claws. I was now sitting upright, albeit still lightheaded and slightly disoriented. “No need to explain.” “All I’m saying is you’re pretty darn lucky, Spike. Things could’ve ended up worse. I’m surprised you only got scratches and bruises on top of that concussion.” I scrutinized my wings and arms. “No blood?” I asked. She shook her head. “Must have somethin’ to do with your scales.” I stared at the back of my hand, examining the purple, overlapping scales. “I guess…” I responded, without looking up. We were both quiet for a few moments. “Here,” Applejack spoke up. She slid a translucent pouch over to my side. I picked it up and surveyed it in my claws. Warmth flooded my hands, and the slippery gel beads within the bag calmed my nerves. I immediately recognized it as the object that had graciously subdued the pounding in my head. “Thanks,” I said, smiling. I placed it gingerly back on my forehead, on top of the layered bandage. “I’m sorry for being a pain in the neck. I bet if you did this whole expedition by yourself, you would have been out of here two hours ago.” “What in the name of Celestia are you talkin’ about? Of course, that ain’t true, Spike. I need you. I’d have already gone mad if ya weren’t here to keep me in line. Heck, you saved me from those bats.” I smirked. “I wouldn’t say saved, but I guess I did give you a fair warning … which led to you making them decide to attack us.” Applejack chuckled, tugging her hat back over her disheveled mane. “I suppose that’s true. But my point is, I wouldn’t make it to the other end if I didn’t have someone like you at my side.” “Aw, thanks,” I replied, smiling and wiping a solitary tear from my left eye. “But that’s kind of the reason why I came though, so I already know that.” Applejack rolled her eyes, yet the corners of her mouth remained upturned. “Yes, I know that you know. And I know that I’ll never know when I’ll need a loyal dragon again in this crazy labyrinth of a cave.” I blinked and attempted to clear the perplexing words from my mind. “Whatever,” I responded, laughing. I flinched again when it induced a fresh wave of pain. “You okay there?” Applejack asked. “Oh, sure. I laughed and-” “I meant do you think you’ll be able to continue, or should we go back to the mouth?” I hesitated. “Can we even make it back?” Applejack frowned. “Huh. I guess you’re right. Retracin’ our steps wouldn’t be so easy, now, would it? Hmm…” She rubbed a hoof thoughtfully under her chin. “And if we did go back, we’d technically be forfeiting.” “Forfeitin’? If your concussion is that serious, Spike, then forfeitin’ is the last thing I’ll be thinkin’ about, and you know that.” “I know. I know. It’s just, we’ve worked so hard to get here.” She sighed. “I know.” I twiddled my thumbs for a minute. “You know what? I think – I think I’m fine.” “Really? Ya sure?” Applejack asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow for emphasis. “Yeah,” I affirmed after only a moment of hesitation. “I’m sure.” Applejack opened her mouth but made to close it instead of speaking. She gazed at indistinct point somewhere far behind me. Precisely what had caught her attention was unknown; lost to the darkness of the cave. Slowly, she refocused her eyes on me, a tired sigh escaping her. “I hope I’m making the right decision here.” “Is that a yes, then?” I asked, brightening. “The journey must go on, right?” “Well, yes, if you want to call it that. Seems more like torture to me though.” “Yeah. Definitely more torture than journeying,” I assented. I attempted to stand up, almost falling in the process. However, Applejack was there in a heartbeat to catch and support me. “AJ?” I asked. “Yes, sugarcube?” “Do you think Rainbow knew about all this beforehoof?” I glanced at her over my shoulder as I spoke. She tightened her lips. “Now that you mention it, that does sound like somethin’ she would do.” “I knew it,” I spat, clenching my claws. “But I refuse to believe such a loyal mare would stoop to that level.” Applejack slipped back into her saddlebags and hoisted my backpack from the floor with her mouth. “You’re … being sarcastic, right?” “Do I even know anymore?” Applejack answered through clenched teeth. I wobbled forward gradually until I could manage a steady gait. “You know,” I said, “you don’t have to carry my stuff. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” “Don’t worry ‘bout it, partner. I got ya covered ‘till you’re feeling completely better. That means no more walking like a duck.” “Not funny,” I retaliated. Applejack snorted. “Didn’t say it was.” She removed her hat and briefly scanned the map, which had been tucked away inside. “Besides, we still got a long way to go.” “I think I’m gettin’ the hang of this,” Applejack said cheerily. It was plausible that the optimism in her voice was feigned. “Really?” I asked, my tone equally bright. “Yep. Just gotta squint real hard and do the opposite of whatever it says.” “Well, that sounds effective,” I quipped. Applejack shrugged. “If it works, it works. Better than using logic.” She was right. The map was the definition of illogical. Suppertime was nearing, and we had only gotten as far as exiting the loopty-loop we had found ourselves in. Well, that, and maybe travelling for another mile or so. My legs rebelled in pain with every step I took, and my head still felt as if someone had placed a fog machine inside it. (The only good news was I hadn’t seen the odd shadow since the concussion incident.) Nonetheless, we persisted. Time was running out if we wanted to prove ourselves to Rainbow Dash. Or if you looked at it from a different perspective, time was running out for us to escape with our lives. Both of our headlamps had died in the span of an hour. The spells that had been cast to keep the candles inside alive were apparently defective. It was a shame we had paid so much for them. Fortunately, we had packed two spares each; but if they were all this faulty, it would only be a matter of time before we were left in the dark. Applejack continued to narrate the occasional story or two, but we kept the conversation balanced to avoid overwhelming one another. For the most part, we allowed our individual thoughts to fill our minds. Thoughts of relaxation. Thoughts of home. Thoughts of failure. Thoughts of regret. These thoughts engaged me, and these thoughts maddened me. Up and down. Left and right. Back and forth. We had trodden in a never-ending circle. I was grateful salvation had come in the form of an undiscovered path, a route to hope, escape, and freedom from insanity. “Do you ever wonder about the purpose of logic?” I asked, looking at Applejack. “I can’t say I have. Why?” She raised an eyebrow in interest. “Well, the way I see it, we spend so much of our lives trying to figure things out, understand why things work the way they do. Like…” I gestured to the rock around us, “Like this cave system. We can stare at it for hours; walk through chamber after chamber a million times. But the problem is, life’s so unpredictable. Things can change in an instant, a blink of an eye. And sometimes we confine ourselves in mazes that have no end. Not every problem is solvable, and nothing really runs entirely on logic. So, what, Applejack, what is the purpose of logic then?” “I - ” she hesitated. “Well, I don’t know, Spike. That’s deep.” She chuckled. “I guess we just want things to work the way we expect ‘em to work. Some ponies don’t like surprises. Logic helps ‘em figure things out, lay it all down on a planner. But I guess … I guess it’s a lost cause sometimes.” “Like trying to understand Pinkie Pie?” “Yes, exactly like everything about Pinkie. Just doesn’t make sense. I guess that’s just the way it’s gotta be sometimes.” We halted right in front of an enormous boulder, the path ahead blocked by the rock. “Just doesn’t make sense…” AJ muttered. “Should we turn around?” I asked, glancing behind us. Applejack unfurled the map and surveyed it, frowning. “I don’t think that’s an option.” “What do you mean?” I approached her to peer at the paper. “This is the only way forward. If we go back, we’ll just be goin’ in circles again.” “Great. How’d this thing even get here?” Applejack scanned the area. “Hmm. Illogical.” I walked up to the boulder and placed my hand on its surface. It was firm and cold, like a harsh rejection. I leaned against it, accepting the disdain. “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe we’re supposed to be stuck in here forever.” “That would be even more nonsensical,” Applejack said, moving to the left side of the boulder. “Maybe,” she grunted, beginning to apply pressure to the rock, “we should try … to force it out of the way.” She stopped to wipe away the sweat that coated her forehead. “Well, don’t just stand there, or we’re gonna be stuck in here for an eternity. Give me a hoof.” “Right. Sorry, sorry.” Together, we pushed. The boulder groaned and creaked but made no attempt to kindly move out of the way. “Drat.” Applejack abandoned our efforts and sifted through the contents of her saddlebags. “So, now what?” “I’m looking for crowbar or somethin’,” Applejack replied, tossing a sack filled with something heavy to the side. “We packed that?” I asked, bewildered. “I might’ve. Ah, here it is.” Applejack yanked the object in question from one of the bag’s pockets and held it aloft. “Might do the trick.” I frowned but remained quiet as Applejack fitted the crowbar’s flattened end beneath the rock. She retreated backward and then pounced on the bar, straining as she transferred all of her strength to the tool. The boulder lifted slowly but crashed back to the floor when Applejack ran out of energy. I shook my head. “It’s too small.” “I was worried about that,” Applejack said, sprawled out on the floor and panting. I picked up the crowbar with my right hand. “If only it were bigger, or maybe if we had two or three. Did you bring more than one?” “I wish I could say yes,” Applejack sighed, lifting her head slightly. “There has to be a way to get around it,” I asserted. I ran a claw along the rock, chipping away tiny flakes of stone and dust. That gave me an idea. Enthralled, I retrieved the reference book from my backpack and flipped through the pages. “Think of somethin’?” Applejack asked from her place on the floor. “I just might have an idea…” I scanned the book quickly, hoping to find the information I was looking for. I was nearing the end of the guide when I finally struck gold. The page displayed a picture of a pickaxe, beautifully gilded and bronze. I studied the words below in anticipation, biting my lip as I searched. As I came to the end of the section, my face broke into a smile. Satisfied, I closed the book’s cover and headed back to the boulder. “I’m afraid I’m still clueless as to what you’ve got goin’ on there,” Applejack commented, now on all four hooves. “Well, I was thinking, what if we break it open?” Applejack glanced thoughtfully at the crowbar. “You know, it just might work. But how will we know where to strike? Hitting willy-nilly won’t get us anywhere.” I grinned. “That’s why I got the book out. Lucky for us, they had some info on how to deal with obstructive rocks like this one.” I tapped the boulder with a claw. “There’s a specific part of it we should hit. Now, if we look closely…” I bent down to peer at the lower-mid section of the rock. “Right about here.” I pointed to a crack. “That’s what we’re aiming for.” Applejack nodded, smiling smugly. “Good work, fella. I’ll take it from here.” I handed her the crowbar and moved a good twenty feet or so away from the scene. Applejack twirled the bar with a hoof, concentrating on the crack I had indicated. Abruptly, she pounced, striking the metal precisely on the crevice. The thin line spread instantly across the rock, creeping and growing like a wildfire. Seconds later, the rock shattered, pieces tumbling to the ground helplessly in surrender. Dust clouded the air; but when the fog subsided, the space ahead shone brighter than the sun. “Well, would ya look at that! We did it, Spike!” Applejack cheered. “Looks like we can still make it out of here,” I added, my hopes rising. “And maybe still in time.” “Of course, we can. It’s only been, what? Eight hours or so?” “Well, it feels like forever,” I complained. “That’s what time does to ya. We better get a move on.” Applejack strode through the newly formed gap, whistling brightly. “Come on, now.” “Coming,” I called, placing the book back in my backpack. “I never thought I’d appreciate you so much,” I whispered, patting the cover lightly. “I’ll make sure to thank Twilight when I get back.” I hurried after her, only for the tome to slip from my pack’s largest pocket and clunk to the floor. “Great.” I stooped to pick it back up, then noticed a gleaming object propped against the nearby wall. Intrigued, I reached for the mysterious item. It was spherical and seemed to pulsate with a powerful energy. The ball was large enough to occupy my entire palm and was surprisingly nearly as heavy as the book. “Woah,” I breathed. “Hey, Applejack! Check this out.” There was no reply. No country-accented call. No stern reprimanding for dawdling. Not even the faintest whisper of a voice. Silence. Silence all around. My heartbeat quickened in a flurry of anxiety. I rose to my feet. “Applejack?” I tried again, my voice cracking. The darkness remained cold and soundless. My body trembled. I ramped the dial on my headlamp up to the maximum level, ignoring the fact that I was wasting precious power. But even in the intense brightness, not a soul could be seen. I was lost. And I was alone. I didn’t pace. In fact, I stood perfectly still. My thoughts, however, catapulted through my mind at incredible speeds. So, I made to solve the problem. I took deep breaths, trying to slow things down. I didn’t think about time, and I didn’t think about danger. I didn’t even contemplate logic. In and out, all over again. Back to square one. I could predict where she went. I clearly saw her exit through this way, so she undoubtedly moved forward. I took a few steps, unsure of whether my distracted, concussion-influenced brain was thinking rationally. Eventually, the desire to act won the tug-of-war match, and I proceeded in walking forward. Yes, I would most certainly find her. I dimmed the brightness of my lamp. The cave had never seemed as foreboding as it did in these moments. The walls ensnared me, thinking they could finally seize me now that I was devoid of my pony companion. Alone. Lost and alone. I wouldn’t let them win though. No number of walls could hold Spike back. I quickened my strides. I would overcome the cave. Even if it meant it was a solo effort. I couldn’t bear the thought, but if Applejack somehow decided I had made it to the exit, or expected me to meet her there, I would have to finish the journey by myself. In the dark. But who was to say I couldn’t do it? Wasn’t there nothing Spike the Brave and Glorious couldn’t accomplish? I couldn’t be bested by a mere cavern. I wouldn’t allow it. With the bats. Not for the sake of my own good and reputation. And it wasn’t like I was unarmed. I had a reference book and … fire breath, a perfectly good weapon. Claws could prove useful too. I glanced down at my hands, cold and shaky. Only me and the unknown. “Haven’t you been in a cave before, Mr. Dragon?” Applejack had said. Some dragon I was. Scared of everything, and worse, unwilling to admit it. Drip. I looked above my head, to the source of the noise. A lone stalactite hung above me, the tiniest trickle of water sliding down the surface. Drip. It made contact with the floor, which was home to a nice little pool of water that had managed to form there. Somehow, this evoked the slightest feeling of happiness within me. There was a shimmer of normality, a calm within the cave. I suddenly wasn’t alone. I’d stumbled upon a friend. Slowly, I extended my palm out in front of me and gazed upward expectantly. Drip. The droplet descended onto my hand, falling with a soft splash. The water was cool, but in a relieving rather than overwhelming way. I rubbed it into my palm and along the back of my other hand. The wetness washed away the thin layer of dirt than had coated my hands, leaving me feeling, by some means, significantly cleaner. Fresher. Pure and immaculate. Maybe it had something to do with the water, which sparkled bright and blue like the river. Or perhaps it was just the effect of finding a ray of hope in the darkness. Either way, I was grateful for the solace. I sat and rested for a while, piecing together a new plan. I began to wonder whether I should have remained where I was in the first place, back where I had found the gleaming ball (which was now nestled safely inside my backpack). Applejack might think to check the room, but it was less likely that she would come down the exact path I took from there. I had branched left at at least two intersections, hoping Applejack had made the same choices. I scolded myself for not making sure we had a plan for a situation like this. I felt like it was something Twilight had mentioned last night, but the memory had faded along with the years that had passed between then and now. The cave guides should have brought it up. There really was something peculiar about … well, everything about Blue Moon Cave. Thoughts of failure. Thoughts of regret. I sighed. This predicament was going to be difficult to work my way out of. Out of the blue, I heard the faint sound of reverberating echoes. I lifted my head and strained my ears. Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. Could it really be? I sprang to my feet in delight. Yet I hesitated. But if it wasn’t? “Spike?” a voice croaked. It really was. It really was her. “AJ?! Applejack?!” I called, the excitement in my voice undeniable. Applejack approached from up ahead, her green eyes sparkling faintly. “Well, there you are. Been looking for you everywhere.” I rushed to envelop her in a hug. “You’ve got to stop gettin’ yourself separated from me.” “I know. I know. I’m really sorry, I-” “Whatever happened, it’s all right, and if anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should’ve been keepin’ a closer eye on you. But it’s in the past now, and we learned somethin’ from this, right? What matters most is that we’re both safe.” “Okay… I’m still sorry though. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I guess we learned that planning is good?” I flashed her a playful smile. “Hmm, I wouldn’t put it that way. Everyone knows plannin’s a good thing. Maybe what you mean is that we’ve got to have good foresight about dangerous situations.” “Isn’t that basically the same thing?” “Didn’t I mention dangerous situations? We can’t plan for everything. That only makes you end up like Twilight.” “Which I assume isn’t a good thing?” “Course not. Especially if you want to have a lick of sense.” We shared a laugh, the tenseness of the anxiety-filled atmosphere finally starting to dissipate. “That was one of the longest hours of my life though. I’m really glad you found me.” I smiled warmly. Applejack chuckled. “Spike, it’s only been fifteen minutes.” “What? But – how?” I demanded, suddenly feeling frustrated. Applejack wrapped a hoof around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “Heh, heh. It’ll all be all right. Just got to stick together. I’ve got feeling we can more than make it out in time.” “I second that,” I said, nodding firmly. “No more distractions, and definitely no more time refusing to work the way it’s supposed to.” I’m certain that wasn’t fifteen minutes. “That’s what I like to here.” As we huddled together, our lights slowly dimming and dwindling, I noticed Applejack shudder. I broke the hug to try to read her expression. Whatever happened, she quickly concealed her emotions. “What was that?” I inquired, furrowing my eyebrows. “Oh, nothing important. Just a thought,” she responded. “Oh.” I was still skeptical about the matter, but I decided not to raise any more questions. “What’s do you say to dinner?” she asked, a grin manifesting on her face. “I think that’s a splendid idea,” I commented, performing my best imitation of Rarity. “Really, now?” “Are you kidding me? I’m starving! Obviously, it’s a good idea. When wouldn’t it be?” “Huh, don’t know about that one.” She stifled a yawn. “When wouldn’t it be?” I spread my sleeping bag over a nice, dry section of ground. I’d always found it’s green and yellow polka-dot pattern appealing. Twilight gave it to me as a gift for my third birthday, right before we went camping to celebrate the occasion. The trip was terrible: the whole family had gotten an approximate one hundred mosquito bites, Dad somehow forgot to bring the food we had spent hours packing, and Twilight had scraped her knee and cried for at least an hour straight. Nonetheless, it was still one of my favorite possessions. It reminded me of home and adventure, more so Canterlot, my first home, than Ponyville. It’s rather strange that two contrasting things could both end up being regarded so fondly in my mind. We had walked for another hour or so after dinner before finally deciding to call it a day. Applejack, assuming we were where she thought we were on the map, had proclaimed that we were at least halfway through the cave, which was satisfactory enough for the moment. I snuck a look at the mare in question before resuming my attempt to smoothen the sleeping bag’s wrinkles. Something had been amiss about her ever since she found me. She’d been shivering every now and then, yet the cave was no colder than it was when we entered this morning. Whenever I tried to ask her about it, she’d say it was anxiety, a hunch about something in the cave, or provide some other futile excuse. She had told me to quit worrying. How could I though, when I knew something was clearly wrong. She was cold, that was certain. But, as to why? I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. It was impossible. Outside weather conditions didn’t affect the temperature down here. Twilight even said it before I left: the cave would stay at a constant temperature year-round. So, what was wrong? More than likely, she knew the answer. But, of course, she wouldn’t tell me. That was the nature of Applejack. She wasn’t one to tell a direct lie. But the way she beat around the bush was clever, as she often ended up both successfully avoiding the issue and obscuring her thoughts. Well, unfortunately for her, I wouldn’t let it happen tonight. Maybe she didn’t want to seem vulnerable, or possibly, she just didn’t want me to worry about her. Nevertheless, the game was over. At the very least, I’d turn the tables. I crawled over to where she sat, a relatively quiet figure for the better part of an hour. A foreleg cocooned her as she rubbed her eye with the other hoof. Exhaustion was another problem; she seemed to be growing more tired with every minute that went by. I suppose it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for somepony to be tired in the late evening, but the gradual loss of strength had been happening for some time now. “Applejack, seriously-” I began, looking her in the eye. “Spike,” she interrupted bitterly, “I’ve told you a dozen times, and I don’t want to have to say it again.” “But-” “For Celestia’s sake, I’m fine! What do you not understand about that?” “You know what happened,” I said softly, my voice only barely audible. Applejack blinked and stared at the ground for the moment. “W-well, do you know?” “No,” I responded, clasping my hands together. “But I intend to find out.” “You’re bein’ irrational. There ain’t nothin’ wrong, and that’s the end of it.” “Well, we did say logic was pointless, didn’t we?” I countered, raising a smug eyebrow. “We … did?” Applejack asked, confusion written all across her expression. “Uh, yeah.” I frowned. “Did you hit your head?” “I sure didn’t, but I know you did. How’re you feeling? I reckon you’re the one who’s ‘not fine’ instead of me.” “Changing the subject won’t work, Applejack,” I said, shaking my head in disapproval. “I’m standing my ground.” Was I imagining things though? Maybe we should have taken my concussion more seriously after all. AJ groaned. “Is this gonna go on all night?” “Possibly, unless you fall asleep in the middle of it.” “What? Now, who said anythin’ about bein’ tired?” “I did, and honestly I’ve never seen you look so drained in my entire life.” A sigh escaped her. “I guess I’ll keep denyin’ what you’re saying. Nothing else seems to do the trick.” It had been like this over the course of the entire argument. Back and forth. Yes and no. Neither of us had been able to fully convince the other. Well, I’d just have to try a different approach. “Applejack?” “What now?” “What was your coldest experience for today?” “My coldest experience? What’s that supposed to mean?” “At what point today did you feel the coldest?” Applejack looked at me skeptically. “That’s an odd question.” “It is,” I replied. She didn’t respond at first. “Well?” I prodded. “I guess it would be falling in that Blue Moon River.… Gosh, I got wet.” Alarm bells blared in my ears. “Oh, no.” “What?” Applejack asked, looking genuinely worried. I scrambled to the first-aid kit and extracted the thermometer from the bag. I returned to Applejack and immediately placed it on her forehead. She must have determined that there was no sense in arguing at this point since she remained quiet while I went through the procedure. The device beeped, signaling that I could check the reading. My eyes widened in shock. “How bad is it?” AJ’s voice was small and hesitant. I grimaced. “96.8. … You have hypothermia.” Silence infiltrated the room. “I figured it was possible, but … I didn’t want to believe myself,” Applejack confessed guiltily. She sneezed, the echo sending a chill down my spine. “But how? It’s been hours since you fell in.” “Must be,” Applejack paused to shudder, “some magical effect of the water.” “Why doesn’t anyone know about this? Don’t ponies know magically cursed things are extremely dangerous?” Or maybe someone does know… No one like a secret, especially when they aren’t one of the ponies who know about the truth. Lies can be even more deadly than magic.... “I’m not sure, Spike. But it’s another thing I’ll have to talk to the cave manager about. Uh, what was the first thing again?” “The map, remember?” I explained, gesticulating. Another effect of hypothermia - memory loss. It too was beginning to affect her. “Yes, right,” she affirmed, nodding. “I was gonna say that.” I needed to make a decision, and Applejack wouldn’t be of much help at the moment. I gazed at the silver emergency button on my jacket. Everything could be resolved within an hour or two. Applejack would get medical help, we’d no longer be lost, and I’d finally get to rest and enjoy being at home again. All I had to do was end everything right here. Everything. Everything we had worked so hard to accomplish since 9 a.m. I glanced at Applejack. She’d closed her eyes and rested her chin on her knees, presumably deep in thought. Not asleep; definitely not asleep. … Hopefully not asleep, at least not yet. I thought about her for a moment; her at times when she was perfectly healthy. Applejack the farmer. Applejack the strong. Applejack the villain-conqueror. Applejack the loving. Applejack the valiant. Applejack the determined. Applejack the hero. Applejack the brave and glorious. I thought about those characteristics and applied them to the current situation. She was more than worthy of so many titles, so much praise, and so many awards. A pony such us her couldn’t be matched by hypothermia, right? Accepting defeat would be a crime against her reputation and honor. A crime against herself. … And she wouldn’t be making the decision. I would be the one to blame. I couldn’t let that happen. So, even though she was currently incapable of instructing me, I would implement the unspoken favor. I grabbed all the fabrics and warm layers we had packed and gave them to Applejack, who gratefully donned them. She looked like a multi-colored snowball, but at least she looked warm. Her shivering also subsided, so I took it as a sign that things would be okay. I lit one of our lanterns with my fire breath and placed it near Applejack’s sleeping bag. The thought of having fire as our backup option for light hadn’t even occurred to me until now. Albeit a late thought, it was a comforting one. “Thank you, Spike,” Applejack breathed. “I don’t know what’d I’d do without you.” “Just like you said,” I murmured, more to myself than her. “Just like I said,” Applejack softly declared, smiling. I lit a candle, deposited it into a jar, and placed a mug of hot chocolate over the container. At least, if it wasn’t the right thing, I felt like I was doing the right thing. It was at times like these that I felt more man than boy, and I was proud of that. Once the drink heated to a considerable warmth, I handed it to Applejack for her to consume. She took a few sips, savoring the comfort that the warmth brought her. Within five minutes, the cup was empty, and AJ had nestled herself inside her sleeping bag. “Don’t worry. I’ll be as fit as a…” She trailed off. “Better. I’ll be better in the morning.” “I here ya. Just try to get some sleep, all right?” Applejack didn’t formulate a reply as she drifted off into a fitful sleep. I returned to my sleeping bag, decorated in green and yellow, and sank beneath its covers. I laid wide awake for a long time, thinking of the cold, unforgiving world, of peace, and of Applejack. Thoughts of regret… Eventually, the line between sleep and consciousnesses merged and blended, my eyelids growing heavier by the second. And thus, our first night inside Blue Moon Cave drew to a close, the sound of the nearby sparkling river playing a tune for my ears.