“I’m starting to think your common sense died in your adolescence.” Thistleroot commented dryly as Scootaloo climbed in through an open window.
“It probably entered a suicide pact with your sense of humor,” Scootaloo shot back before reaching out and offering him her hoof.
“Now that hurt,” he said, reaching up and climbing in after her.
They’d climbed into another bedroom, dimly lit and boring. “What exactly are we looking for?” He whispered.
“Anything that can tell us more about them.”
“How helpfully vague.”
Scootaloo eased the door open an inch and peaked into the hall beyond. It was brightly lit and warm. A painting hung on the wall across from the door. It was one of those abstract pictures of blocks and circles that only professional artists and kindergarteners really understand.
“Ok, big house, expensive and pointless tastes, that tells us something, right?” Thistleroot asked.
“Yeah. It tells us he’s a rich pony living in the world capital of rich ponies. Come on.”
The first step into the hall was the hardest. Scootaloo’s hoof trembled in the air for a moment before coming down on the thick white carpet. Another few steps, and she was out in the open.
“I vote we climb,” Thistleroot whispered, nodding to a flight of winding stairs at the end of the hall. “Get as far away from any zombie cultists as we can.”
Scootaloo nodded. “Wait, when did they become zombies?”
“Probably when they were bitten,” Thistleroot answered before taking the lead. Scootaloo thought about arguing, but finally just shook her head.
“Rose,” a voice said from the other end of the hall, “May I have a word with you privately?”
Scootaloo swallowed a startled gasp and pushed Thistleroot to climb faster. They’d already passed the second floor and were halfway to the third.
“If you must,” another voice answered. Scootaloo recognized her as the unicorn mare from outside. She and Thistleroot reached the top of the stairs and half-galloped down the next hall. “I—”
“Wait,” the stallion said. “Did you hear that?”
Moments later hoofsteps came from the stairs behind them.
“In here,” Thistleroot said in a frantic whisper, throwing open the nearest door. They tumbled through and eased it shut before pushing their heads toward the crack at the bottom. Hoofsteps paced back and forth through the hall outside and doors were thrown open one at a time.
“If you are quite done, Mr. Shine,” the pony called Rose said cooly.
“I’m telling you, I heard something,” Shine answered.
Rose clicked her tongue impatiently. “Perhaps you are getting paranoid in your old age?”
Several moment passed in silence before Shine muttered something unintelligible under his breath and said, “Come on then.”
Scootaloo listened for another minute, just to be sure they were gone.
“I vote we get out of here,” Thistleroot said. “If you really want to play hero, I’ll buy you a nice cape tomorrow.”
Scootaloo nodded and spun toward the room, picking her way through the darkness to the far wall.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure going further into the room is the opposite of leaving,” Thistleroot noted.
“If you want to go back through the hall and a dozen cultist zombies, be my guest,” Scootaloo said, throwing open a window.
“Oh, I get it,” Thistleroot said with a nervous chuckle. “We’re gonna fly out. That’s clever, really. Uh, there’s just one tiny problem. One of us doesn’t have wings.”
“Oh quit whining and get your flank over here.” Scootaloo hurried around Thistleroot and pushed him toward the window with both hooves.
“Uh, I’m serious, Scootaloo. Flying and unicorns. We don’t mix. Falling is more my thing. Scootaloo? Scoota—”
*****
“I did not scream,” Thistleroot insisted.
“Of course not.”
“It was a manly shout of courage.”
“Sounded like it.”
“I was trying to startle the cultists.”
“I’m sure they were quaking in their robes.”
Scootaloo and Thistleroot had enjoyed a short flight past the edge of the manor property, and slightly longer run to avoid any ponies roused by Thistleroots manly battlecry. They had finally agreed to stop someplace safe. Someplace public, with lights and ponies, open even at this time at night. A bastion against the darkest night.
“Half a dozen chocolate with sprinkles, half a dozen jelly filled,” Pony Joe recited, sliding a plate onto their table.
“Thanks,” Scootaloo said. She turned back to Thistleroot as soon as Joe was out of hearing range. “There’s probably some kind of explanation.”
Thistleroot shrugged noncommittally and munched another doughnut.
“I mean, you don’t hold meetings with school kids and cultists in the same house,” Scootaloo continued.
“Not at the same time,” Thistleroot agreed. “Which is probably why they canceled the first meeting. Hey, do you think he has any of those pudding filled ones?”
“Thistleroot, focus!” She snapped.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he admitted. “So some ponies want to play dress up and stand in a circle. It’s not like they were sacrificing bunnies or doing other nefarious deeds. Honestly, if I never go near them again, it’ll be too soon.”
“But what about that unicorn? He said something about getting rid of Twilight.”
“Oh, right,” Thistleroot said, lowering half a doughnut to the table. “Forgot about that part during all the running and hiding.”
Scootaloo rested her snout on her hoof. “So, we’ve got a mysterious group of ponies wearing robes and threatening my friends. But what do they get out of it?” She looked up at Thistleroot. “What do cults do anyway?”
He shrugged again. “I think they’re usually about controlling a group. Somepony convinces the others to follow a code or set of guidelines, usually with some symbol at the center.”
“What kind of symbol?”
“I dunno, I think I read somewhere that cults popped up worshipping Nightmare Moon. Probably another or two after Discord came round.” Scootaloo shivered. “Oh, the mare in the moon is a big one. Lots of ponies argue about her. The face disappeared about twelve years ago, and everypony agreed it was Nightmare Moon, but then it reappeared two years later. Now nopony knows what it is.”
“You don’t say?”
“Yeah,” Thistleroot continued, missing the dry humor in her voice.
“Well, it really doesn’t matter what their symbol is, they threatened one of my friends. We need to tell somepony.”
Thistleroot frowned. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
“Huh?” Scootaloo asked.
Thistleroot pushed the plate of doughnuts away slowly. “We’ve put too much work in to let you go running around and ruining it all.”
A cold chill settled at the pit of Scootaloo’s stomach. She glanced around nervously. The shop was mostly empty, but Pony Joe would help her if they made a scene, wouldn’t he?
Her chain of thought was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter. She swung her head back to see Thistleroot shaking in his seat, hooves clutching his sides. “You should have seen your face,” he wheezed out between fits of laughter.
“You... wait,” Scootaloo’s face fell. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Eh, call us even. You could have at least told me you were strong enough to carry us both down before shoving me out the window.”
“Whatever. You scream like a little filly, by the way.”
*****
Scootaloo double checked the address before knocking lightly on an unfamiliar door. It was the evening after her trip to see the Cutie Mark Crusaders. She’d thought about coming right away, but decided the trip could wait until after a few hours of sleep. She’d gotten off of work at the school twenty minutes earlier and hurried over.
The door opened and Spike’s face appeared from behind it. “Oh, hi Scootaloo.”
“Hey Spike. Is Twilight around?”
“Yeah. Come on in.” Spike stepped aside to let her in. Twilight's new house was nice enough. Not nearly as large as the mansion she’d seen the night before, but bigger than Dash’s place. Bookcases lined the walls of the living room, of course.
“Let me go tell her you're here. She’s busy getting all girlied up,” Spike said, rolling his eyes.
“Twilight? You’re joking, right?”
“Nope. She let slip to Rarity that she had a date tonight and well, you know Rarity.”
“Yeah, I... wait, what? Twilight has a date? Twilight?” Scootaloo couldn’t help but giggle, and quickly checked over her shoulder to be sure the unicorn in question wasn’t standing behind her. "Are princesses even allowed to date?"
Spike shrugged. “If they aren't nopony's told her. She met somepony up at the school during the expansion. Star something or other.”
Scootaloo chuckled again, shaking her head at the thought of Twilight doing anything that didn’t involve books or magic.
“Well, I’ll go tell her you’re here,” Spike said, disappearing up the stairs. Rainbow Dash glided over his head as he reached the top.
“Scoots?” She rolled once through the air and landed in front of Scootaloo. “Hey there, what are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to Twilight. What about you?” Scootaloo faked her best knowing smile. “Let me guess, you were so jealous of Twilight’s make over you wanted one of your own?”
“Psh, as if. Rarity ran into me on the way over and dragged me along. I just had to get out of there for a moment. It’s all so... girly.” Dash shuddered.
“Hello Scootaloo,” Twilight said from the top of the stairs. She came down with Rarity and Spike so the five of them were standing together. “You needed to talk to me?”
“Uh yeah,” Scootaloo said, glancing at all the ponies nervously. She hadn’t expected to be talking to anypony but Twilight. More to the point, she hadn’t been planning on telling her guardian and adoptive sister about breaking into some rich pony's house. “Well, uh, I think you’re in danger.”