Sorry We Missed You

by Starswirl the Beardless


Chasing Ghosts

Silence hung over the world like a blanket...a blanket of lead...thick, heavy, and stifling. It hung over the fields of bright green grass dotted with wildflowers. It hung over the roofs of quaint little houses and shops. It hung over the streets, it hung over the trees, it hung over the air itself. Neither the drop of a pin nor the scurrying of a mouse disrupted that oppressive quiet. Not a single sound was there...save for the frantic flapping of wings, and the voice of a little blue pegasus.

“Hello!?!” shouted the mare as she dashed through the streets, her wings whipping up the dust from the ground as she passed. “Anypony!?!”

Her brow was caked in sweat, and her heart pounded against her chest, threatening to break free. A constant shiver ran through her, a sign of the adrenaline pumping through her body, brought on either from physical exertion, or from deep, existential dread. Still she pressed onward. Still she pushed her wings to the limit, flying up and down those empty streets, back and forth through those quiet neighborhoods, around and around that placid little town.

“Hello!” she bellowed, the word just as forceful the hundredth time as it had been the first time.

Her words fell on nonexistent ears, however, the only response she received being the soft echo of her own voice through the nearby alleyways. Her ears strained to hear anything through that deafening silence; her eyes ached trying to see through that endless still. Try as she might, even her impressive senses could not detect anything out of the ordinary...and it was just that extraordinary normality that sent a chill through her heart. No fillies or colts ran through the streets, causing childish mayhem in their play. No old geezers at the market stalls haggled with one another over a single bit's difference in price. No bubbly, pink mares led townponies in surprisingly well-choreographed musical numbers. Everything was perfect, preserved, unspoiled...every shop, every stall, every house...

The mare's eyes went wide. Half a second later, her wings splayed open, bringing her to a screeching, grinding halt in midair. When she had stopped, she whirled around, fixing her eyes on the ground before a nearby house, and on the small, bright spot of red she saw there. After several moments, she approached, cautiously floating down to land before that spot. As she drew nearer, the spot took on the familiar delicate shape of a flower, a rose, its bud awkwardly laying against the ground. Its long stem led down to a small clump of earth contained within a pot, partially cracked against the street.

The mare raised her head, looking up at the front door of the house just a couple feet away. The door stood slightly ajar, although the tiny crack did not give her much to look at. Stepping over the broken flowerpot, she approached the door, pressed a hoof against its cheerily painted surface, then gently pushed it open. The door slowly swung inward, giving her a view of the beautiful home within, its humble furniture bathed in the warm glow of the sun that flowed through the windows. She took one step forward, then another, her hooves carrying her across the threshold, thoughts of trespassing the last thing on her mind.

“Hello?” she called out, instinctively using her inside voice.

She made her way further into the house, crossing the adorable little living room decorated with beautiful flowers and doilies. On her way to the kitchen, she passed the fireplace, paying no heed to the mantelpiece decorated with framed photographs of a little redheaded mare named for the flower in the broken pot surrounded by her friends and family. As she entered the next room, her ears pricked up as they detected some barely perceptible noise nearby. She froze, instantly scanning her surrounding with her sharp eyes. A few moments later, the noise came again, her ears tracing the sound to the nearby sink. She approached, warily gazing into the kitchen sink and seeing the specks of potting soil scattered about it. After a few seconds, a fat, heavy drop of water collected on the faucet, then fell down into the sink below, sounding the mysterious noise for the third time.

She sighed, her body visibly relaxing as the source of the noise was made apparent. For several moments, she did nothing, merely standing there, staring at the faucet as it let loose a few more drops which splattered uneventfully in the sink. Finally, she raised a hoof, placed it on the nearby handle, then twisted it the last little bit to the “off” position. The drop swelling up on the faucet ceased growing and hung there...silently. As her ears were filled with that unnatural silence once more, she gulped, then turned to survey the house.

“Where...” she began. “Where are they?”

She made her way out of the empty kitchen, back through the living room, then on to the rest of the house, poking her head into each room in turn. Aside from the realization that the house was much more tidy than her own was, she made no other significant observations, especially not of the kind that she was hoping for. Disturbed, but not entirely surprised, she swiftly exited the house, reflexively pulling the front door closed behind her. She plopped down onto her rump, staring blankly at the lonely flower before her.

Where could they be? Where in Equestria could they be? They couldn't have just...disappeared...not the whole town! If...if something happened...something bad, then...they probably would have just run away, or hid somewhere or...

A sharp intake of breath accompanied the widening of her eyes. Her head jerked up, and she took a few seconds to remind herself what part of town she was in before springing up off of the ground and into the air in one fluid motion. Her powerful wings flapped quickly and precisely, carrying her back above the rooftops in mere moments. She took off like a lighting bolt, hurtling towards the tip of the town's tallest building.

Idiot! You big, dumb...stupid idiot! Of course they'd be there! Of course they'd go there to hide if something bad happened!

Several seconds later, the mare touched down in the town square, doing her best to ignore how unnervingly empty it was. Before her stood the towering rotunda of the town hall, its long shadow bathing her in darkness. Without missing a beat, she immediately sprung forward, leaping the steps leading up to the building's grand doorway in a single bound. Her hooves met the creaky wood of the building's outer walkway, and she charged forward, barreling towards the doors.

“Hey!” she called out, her lips stretching into a smile. “Hey, I'm here!”

She ran up to the doors, firmly planting her hooves on the wood and pushing them open with a mighty heave.

“Don't worry, everypony!” she said as she barreled into the grand hall beyond. “Rainbow Dash is here to...”

She stopped, her smile slowly fading as she looked around at all of those familiar, friendly faces...that weren't there.

“Help,” she finished, the sound of her voice quickly fading away, leaving the cavernous hall as still and quiet as she had found it.


The mare sailed through the air at a moderate pace, the speed of eagerness tempered by the slowness of trepidation. Above her stretched out the clear blue sky of morning, despite the actual time quickly approaching late afternoon. Below her, stretching out just as far, was a sea of bright green foliage splattered with the light pink of a million flowers. Even a tough mare such as her would have acknowledged the beauty of that sight on a normal day. Of course, that day was anything but normal. On that day, she had eyes only for the little red farmhouse nestled within the green just ahead of her.

She wouldn't leave. She'd never leave. None of them would. Not in a thousand moons. They'd rather...

She chose not to finish that thought.

A few seconds later, she began her descent, gliding down towards the wide-open doors of the old barn. She sailed straight in, slowing down prematurely to ensure a safe entry. While she knew most of the barn to be filled with nice, soft bales of hay, a few near-misses with rusty farm equipment in the past had forced her to adopt a more cautious approach.

“Hello!” she called out, quickly scanning the barn. “Applejack? Are you in here?”

She quickly, but carefully made her way around the barn, checking behind stacks of hay bales, behind crates, and any other place that could have concealed a little pony.

“Big Mac? Apple Bloom? Granny Smith? Come on, where are you guys!?!”

When her search proved fruitless, she grunted in frustration, then swiftly exited the barn. She flew around to the residential part of the building, right up to the back door that led to the kitchen. Finding the door unlocked, she pushed it open and flew inside.

“Hello?” she called out. “Anypony?”

Looking around the room, she saw apples sitting in baskets, apples painted on dishes, apples embroidered onto napkins, but she did not see any of the Apples she had hoped to find there.

“It's me, Rainbow Dash!” she said as she flew through the kitchen and out into the living room. “Where are you?”

The same old couch she had always seen there sat prettily in the middle of the room. The same old apple-themed knickknacks sat on the mantelpiece alongside family photos. The same old rug, the same old rocking chair, the same old...

She did a double-take, looking down at the floor before the rocking chair. Laying there unceremoniously was a pair of wooden knitting needles, still wrapped through the threads of a half-finished sock. She approached, looking down at the sock to ensure her eyes were not deceiving her.

She gulped. “Applejack?” she called out, slowly looking away.

She flew up the nearby stairs, arriving at a hallway lined with bedrooms on either side. One by one, she poked her head into these rooms.

The first was a small room sparsely decorated with antique furniture, old, faded photographs hanging on the walls. “Granny Smith?” she said.

A larger room next, with a larger bed and little decoration. “Big Mac?” she said.

An even larger room, the bed big enough for two, the window shutters closed and a thin layer of dust coating the furniture. She closed the door again silently.

A cute little room with a cute little bed, the walls covered in cute little pictures drawn in crayon. “Apple Bloom?” she said.

A plain, sensible room with a framed photo on the bedside table depicting some very familiar faces. “Applejack?” she said.

She lowered herself to the floor and walked inside this room, approaching the photo. She stood there for a few moments, a small smile appearing on her lips as she stared down at the faces before her.

Why in Equestria was I making that face?

A soft chuckle bubbled up from within her and quickly leaked out. She sniffled as her lips trembled. Before she could do more than that, she looked away, glancing through the nearby bedroom window. Outside, she could see the barnyard, see the empty pig sty, see the silent chicken coop, and not too far away, a sea of green and light pink. She approached the window, staring wistfully out at the world beyond. She lowered her head and sighed.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

Looking back up, she took one last look at the barnyard, casting her gaze over all of the...

Wait! What's that?

She zeroed in on a spot a few yards away from the pig pen, where an unknown object lay on the ground. Without taking her eyes from the spot, she quickly opened the window and hopped out. Spreading her wings, she angled down into a gentle glide that delivered her right to the spot she had been looking at.

The rank odor confirmed her suspicions before her hooves had even touched the ground. Within the old bucket laying on its side on the dirt was a varied mixture of table scraps, apple cores, rotten vegetables, and a dozen other things she could not identify. The bucket's contents had spilled out onto the ground, clearly by accident. While she knew as little about farming as she did about dressmaking or magical theory, she had spent enough time around that particular operation to recognize the distinctive characteristics of pig slop. Stepping backwards out of range of the smell, she approached the pig pen, looking in at the long food troughs. As she had suspected, the troughs were dry and empty, evidently not having seen even a scrap of food recently.

With the wheels in her head slowly turning, she peered over at the chicken coop a short distance away. She gave her wings a few quick flaps, fluttering over into the small fenced-off area. A quick look at the dirt revealed a light scattering of chicken feed, certainly not enough for all of the hens that lived there, but not so little as to be overlooked either.

As she glanced about, she noticed something laying on the ground next to the old wooden coop itself. A worn wicker basket sat there on its side, its cargo of eggs spilling out onto the dirt. Several of the eggs were broken, their gooey yolks leaking out onto the ground. Above the basket, in the side of the coop, a little panel had been slid open, presumably to get at the nest just inside. Taking a quick peek inside, she saw that about half of the nests' eggs had been collected, about the amount she estimated now lay in the dirt at her hooves.

The mare looked back at the basket for a few moments, then back at the smelly bucket. She shivered, feeling the weight of the farm's emptiness pressing down on her. She had never spent much time considering the soft clucking of those chickens, or the rude snorting of those pigs, or even the gentle rustle of those trees in the wind; now, she was forced to. She was forced to listen to the unearthly silence of every one of those motionless leaves, untouched by the wind.

Such a little thing, the wind, so little in fact that she herself had not realized before that very moment that she had not felt its touch since she had woken, not even once. A chill came over her, and she found herself scanning the barnyard, poring over that bright, sunny spot with an unfitting sense of dread. Her wings moved on their own, propelling her high into the air with a single flap, then sending her hurtling away from that fearful place.


A low, burbling growl filled the empty air as she sailed above the rooftops. Without upsetting the rhythmic beat of her wings, she reached down and caressed her aching belly. While the sun could not be counted upon as a means of telling time, the rumble of her hungry tummy was as sure a sign as any that suppertime was not far off. It was for this reason that the sight of the building she was fast approaching filled her with carnal desire, in addition to fear.

A large sloping roof, shingled with massive chocolate cookies and accented with thick, creamy icing. A flamboyantly pink cupcake the size of a small house, three tremendous birthday candles jutting from its frosting. A familiar, friendly door framed by candy canes bigger than she herself was. A solitary horseshoe that hung above the entrance, granting good fortune to those that passed under it. She knew the sweets were fake, of course, even if her belly didn't; she just hoped the luck might be real.

She came in for a landing, expertly touching down on the purple doorstep. The top half of the door before her was wide open, letting the nonexistent breeze waft inside. Unfortunately, it was also allowing a distinctive burning smell to travel out in the other direction. Realizing the implications of such a smell emanating from a bakery, the mare immediately barged through the door, leaped over the counter of the storefront, and burst into the large kitchen beyond. Several panicked minutes and several large, smoke-filled ovens later, she was reasonably confident that she had averted the sort of catastrophe that had almost befallen the library.

When she finally had a moment to stop and catch her breath, the reality of her situation sank in once again. Glancing about the kitchen, she saw a huge collection of bowls, trays, cups, and other containers filled with goodies in various stages of preparation, be it ingredient, batter, baked, or frosted. Part of her desperately wanted to dive right into one of the delicious cakes that sat on the counter before her or scarf down a mouthwatering cupcake or ten; another part of her gagged at the thought.

“Mister and Missus Cake?” she called out, her voice trembling. “Are...are you here?”

Silence answered her.

“Please be here,” she whispered.

She walked back out to the storefront, appearing behind the counter where a display filled with treats beckoned to her. Crossing the room, she came to the adjacent dining area, looking out at all of the tables where she and her friends had sat and eaten snacks over the years. The snacks were there, half-eaten slices of cake and gnawed muffins still sitting on plates, but the friends were not, neither was anypony else.

She made her way back to the kitchen, crossing through it to the stairwell that led up to the second floor living area. A few moments later, she was standing in the hallway that led to the rest of the building.

“Hello?” she said. “Mister and Missus Cake? Pinkie Pie?”

Walking down the hallway, she passed several rooms, including a master bedroom, a cozy sitting room, a bathroom, and a nursery. The sight of this last room gave her pause; she couldn't help but approach the large crib that sat against the far wall. Her steps were slow, hesitant, shaky, but they eventually carried her to her destination. Within the crib, amongst the baby toys and blankets decorated with adorable animals, lay two baby bottles, each half-full of milk. She left the room quickly.

Having searching every room, there was only one place to go: up. She stood at the base of the spiral staircase in the center of the floor, gazing upwards.

“P-Pinkie Pie?” she called out. “Y-You're up there, right?”

She had ascended those stairs a hundred times, but on that occasion, it took all of her strength just to take the first step. The second was only marginally less difficult, as was the third, and so on, until eventually, she reached the top, stepping out into the loft bedroom. She was always surprised to see how neat and tidy that room was, given the pony that it belonged to. On that occasion, however, she would have much rather seen it a bit messier.

“Pinkie Pie?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She saw the comfy little bed, she saw the dressers, no doubt stuffed full of party supplies, but she did not see the little pink mare she sought. That left only one last place to look.

One last set of stairs hugged the rounded wall, leading up to the cupcake at the top of the building. As she approached these, beginning yet another ascent, she looked up at the wall to her side, only to see the smiling face of her friend looking back at her. A chronicle of the little pink mare's life was laid out before her in photograph form, ranging from fillyhood all the way up to what looked like just a few weeks prior. Throughout it all through, the mare in the pictures wore the same brilliant, beautiful smile that she had seen on her face just the day before. How she wished she could see it one more time.

The happy memories that came flooding back to her as she ascended those steps kept her distracted from her rising fear, the fear of what she would find at the top. When she felt her hoof meet level ground and gazed upon the last photo in the line, she stopped dead in her tracks, all of her fear rushing back to her at once. She gulped, took a deep breath, then slowly turned her head away from the wall.

The little attic room had once been used for storage, and there were still a few crates of old housewares, winter clothing, and other miscellaneous items shoved into the corners. Of course, when a certain party pony had moved into the room downstairs, she had convinced the owners to let her use the room for much merrier purposes. A little bit of cleaning, some careful redistribution of most of the clutter throughout the rest of the building, and the space had become the hippest hang out spot for six little mares and one abnormally docile alligator. Looking around the room, the memories came rushing back to her, memories of peppy music, of delicious treats, and of a thousand and one unforgettable moments shared with her most favorite ponies in the whole wide world.

Of course, memories are a poor substitute for the real thing. No music flowed from the record player, only silence. The sight of the nonexistent cupcakes on the table made her empty belly ache. No warmth came from the invisible smiles of the ghosts that danced and pranced around her, only a chilling hole in her heart as they slowly faded away. Not even a single streamer or scrap of confetti remained from the night before to grant her solace. She cursed her friend for being as good at cleaning up after her parties as she was at setting them up.

The old wooden floorboards creaked beneath her hooves as she crossed the room. She had mixed feelings about the sound which, one one hoof, filled the dreadful auditory void she had been stuck in all day, while on the other hoof, served to highlight that very same silence.

Soon enough, she stood before the large, round window that allowed the bright light of day to stream in. She gazed out of it, looking out across the rooftops and streets of the town, some desperately hopeful part of her expecting to see a smiling face way down below. Instead, the only face she saw was her own, her familiar visage reflected in the glass, albeit tinged with an unfamiliar graveness. She spent an oddly long time standing there, examining the features that she had seen countless times before. She didn't know why she was hesitant to look away from the only face she had seen that day, and potentially, the only face she would see for a while yet. Before too long, however, the comfort granted by the illusion of companionship was beaten out by the unnerving sadness in her eyes and the trembling of her lips. She tore herself away from the window, swiftly leaping back into the air and sailing down the stairs.


She had never known how many buildings there were in that pretty little town nestled in the heartland of Equestria. She still didn't, even after visiting almost every single one; she had been too preoccupied with other things to keep count.

She had fallen into a sort of rhythm eventually: enter the building by any means necessary, search the place from top to bottom, sound out her usual call, and when that call was not answered, force her crushed hopes out of her mind and move on to the next one. As she went from house to house, from shop to shop, she found herself flicking off lamps, turning off running faucets, cleaning up the messes of various dropped items, in addition to securing any potentially combustible home appliances she came across. Given the circumstances, it might seem strange that she would concern herself with something so trivial as wasted water, and yet she persisted. After all, she thought to herself, it was the sort of thing one did for their friends and neighbors when they went away somewhere. She wouldn't want them to be met with flooded homes if they came back.

When they come back. When.

The hours continued to drag on as she searched, evidenced by the occasional glances she took at clocks hanging on walls and sitting on bedside tables, the trustworthiness of which she no longer doubted. As the afternoon rolled into evening, her hunger pains only continued to grow, and the near-constant anxiety numbed her brain; and yet, she did not eat, she did not rest, she did not take any diversion from her mission. Even the powerful wings and hooves of one of Ponyville's finest athletes were feeling the exhaustion of her efforts by the time she stood before the door of the final building.

Her head was bowed, her eyes closed. Her overworked heart, which had been beating at an elevated, yet steady pace for hours, slowly accelerated, each beat pounding against her chest more firmly than the last. She took deep, calming breaths, forcing herself to continue until they no longer shook coming out. The fear of what she might find behind that door kept her paralyzed, but the fear of never finding out proved even stronger. Steeling her substantial will, she slowly raised her head and opened her eyes.

She gazed upwards at the picturesque place, poring over the intricate purple and blue designs that covered its circular walls and sloped roofs. She looked up at the second floor, where carved images of beautiful mares eternally pranced round and round the outside of the building, proudly displaying their rich garments for the world to see. Of course, the real spectacle sat behind the large, circular windows to either side of her. Peering through the polished glass at those expertly arranged displays, she could see a treasure trove of fine silks and satin stretched across the bodies of the mannequins that stood there. Her own mane paled in comparison to the dazzling spectrum of colors her eyes were treated to, deep reds, elegant blues, sharp greens, and everything in between finding a place there somewhere. Even a rough-and-tumble mare such as her could recognize the beauty of those fabulous garments, even if she could never have put into words why she felt that way.

For just a moment, she heard the eloquent voice of the mare who had created them, saw those alabaster hooves as they sewed and stitched, and felt the tremendous weight on her shoulders lift just a little bit. The moment was fleeting, however, and she soon found herself looking back at the door before her, that weight returned and greater than ever. She had been putting it off all day, searching that building, the last of hundreds, and the last of five, but she could delay no longer. It took a fool's hope and all the courage she had left in her little body to raise her trembling hoof to the door handle.

The door swung open smoothly, just as it always did. The little bell hanging above it sounded its cheerful ring, just as it always did. Her hoofsteps echoed softly on the hard floor as she stepped inside, just as they always did.

The only thing missing was the warm greeting of the lovely proprietress of that establishment.

She stood there in the middle of the showroom, awkwardly waiting for something she wasn't even sure would come. The seconds dragged on, each one grinding that excruciating silence into her head even further, until at last she could stand it no longer.

“R...Rarity?” she said, forcing the word out of her tired throat. “Rarity?”

Her eyes wandered about the showroom, taking in racks of beautiful clothes and staring at the pale mannequins that stared right back at her. The tall mirrors that lined the wall nearby reflected back the stark emptiness of the room, as well as her own grim visage. The proud mare who was always the first to put on a brave face was forced to look upon her own fears, her own desperate hopes etched into those features. She didn't like what she saw.

No.

She turned away, seeking comfort in her familiar surroundings.

She'll be here. She has to be.

“Rarity?” she called out as she fluttered into the air.

She checked every dressing room, finding nothing but stray garments lying on the floor. She checked the little storeroom nearby, peering over boxes of last season's fashions. She flew back into the kitchen, ignoring her gnawing hunger. Finally, she made her way up the stairs to the living area, making her way down the second floor hallway.

She looked into the bathroom, gazing upon the vast array of makeups, creams, tonics, perfumes, and grooming implements that occupied the counter. She looked into the guest bedroom, noticing the small red cape lined with gold silk casually draped across the bed. She even looked into the hall closet, finding nothing but some old cleaning supplies.

As she stepped up to the door of the master bedroom, however, she paused, staring intently at the painted wood. It was the final door, the final room, the final hope she had left. Having been inside that room dozens of times before, she had no trouble picturing it in her mind. It was a large room to be sure, but not anywhere near big enough to contain an entire town's worth of ponies. Her brain considered that mental image, rejecting the notion as being ridiculous; and yet, deep down in her thumping heart, there still clung the last in a long line of hopes, which told her that her search would not be in vain.

Slowly, she raised a shaky hoof, extending it towards the door handle. It sat there against that cool metal for a long time, neither withdrawing nor pressing onward. She stared down at the useless appendage, fruitlessly willing her muscles to move as the seconds dragged on. All the while, that same continuous, unbroken, unbearable silence pressed down on her.

Come on. Come on...you coward.

Shame welled up inside of her, shame at her inability to act, to decide...shame at her own weakness. She had come so far, and yet she couldn't take the final step.

And you want to be a Wonderbolt?

Now they were heroes; they wouldn't be afraid of a mere door. Not the Wonderbolts. Not Princess Celestia. Not Daring Do. Not her friends.

My friends.

She thought of those friends, those amazing, wonderful mares that she loved so much. Each one of them was a hero; each one of them had proven themselves time and time again. Each one of them had done so much for others, been willing to sacrifice so much for others...and for her. They had always been there to save the day when they were needed, and more importantly, they had always been there for her when she needed them.

“I need them,” she whispered, her words so quiet that not even she heard them.

Her head lowered and her eyes closed as her nose filled with sniffles and her lips trembled.

They need you too.

Her eyes opened, and she looked back up at the door.

They need me.

Wherever in that wide, wide world they were, they needed her; they needed her strength, they needed her courage, they needed her loyalty. Even if she had reached the end of her strength, even if her courage hung by the thinnest thread imaginable, she would never deny them her unshakable devotion. She would never give them up; she would never abandon them. She would not rest until she saw their beautiful faces once again, saw them standing before her, just as she saw them in her head. Nothing would stand in her way, especially not something as trivial as a simple door.

The handle turned easily, and the door swung open with hardly a push. The bedroom opened up before her, the floor strewn with bolts of cloth, scraps of fabric, and a light dusting of fine, white cat hair. The large, four-poster bed was perfectly made, its ornate comforter stretched taut over its plush mattress. A mountain of decorative pillows sat atop it, so many that she reckoned they could have doubled as a second mattress all on their own. The walls were lined with shelves holding various materials and tools, and had hoof-drawn designs of the most gorgeous gowns hanging from them. There was a large, rounded window, filling the room with soft, warm light.

Standing before that window...was the distinctive figure of a mare, her coat as pure white as the finest snow.

Time seemed to slow as her eyes fell on the figure, the churning of her brain and the pounding of her heart grinding to a halt. She couldn't think; she couldn't speak. She couldn't do anything but stand there like a statue, staring at the happiest sight she had ever beheld. Her breathing quickened, undulating, morphing into the beginnings of what could either have been a laugh or a sob. The corners of her gaping mouth slowly rose. The tears that she had not allowed herself to shed finally made themselves known, welling up in her widening eyes before trailing down her cheek.

“Rar...Rarity?” she breathed, the loving warmth spreading from her heart thawing her frozen tongue. “Rarity?”

It couldn't be, yet there she was, standing before her, just as she had done countless times before. Such a mundane sight, and yet the intense euphoria flooding the mind of the mare was anything but. She didn't know what to do, whether to laugh, to cry, to scream, or all three. Her body, on the other hoof, knew exactly what to do. Her powerful wings and deft hooves sent her shooting forward towards that wonderful, beautiful mare.

“Rarity!” she shouted, her voice ringing with pure joy.

She pulled the figure into a bone-crushing hug as they collided, sweeping them off their hooves and twirling them around in circles.

“Rarity!” the mare cried as she buried her face in their neck. “I...I can't believe it! I can't believe it's you! It's really you! You're here! I...I'm sorry it took me so long to find you, I just...”

Her voice withered as she turned her head and looked into the blank face of the mannequin she held.

In an instant, the silence returned. In an instant, the joy vanished, replaced by familiar fear. In an instant, the warmth was supplanted by a deep, harrowing chill.

She stood there, as still and lifeless as the simulacrum she clung to. She stood there as her muscles shook, her grip gradually loosening. She stood there as the mannequin slipped from her grasp, falling at her hooves. She stood there as the heavy metal stand attached to it clattered against the wooden floor, tolling out as loudly as any bell. She stood there as the mannequin stared back up at her with its silent, still, empty face.

She took a step backwards, then another, and then...she flew. She flew out of that room, the wind she whipped up pulling the door closed with a loud slam. She flew down the stairs and through the showroom, passing through the gazes of the mannequins that maintained their vigil there. She flew through the front door and out onto the street. She flew up, up over the rooftops, up over the streets, up over that silent town in that still, lifeless countryside. She flew away, the rushing air drying the tears streaming down her face.