To: Secretary Honey Tongue
Re: you.
Mr Tongue, it has come to my attention that not a single one of my letters to Scootaloo has come to her desk. Those letters were of a sensitive manner, Honey. Your conduct towards me and my associates has also been bucking awful not exemplary. I hope that in the future, you aren’t such an ass are less troublesome to associate with. I also hope that next time I send a Celestia-damned letter, you don’t bucking shred it and mail the shredded remains back to me. And on a different note, I would like to schedule a private meeting with your boss, Scootaloo. And for the love of Celestia, DO NOT SHRED THIS BUCKING LETTER
Regretfully,
Applebloom Apple.
Three weeks before
Crimson Thorn lay on her back, the ceiling above her seeming to blur as tears spilled out of her eyes. The floor was cold and unforgiving under her, and several opaque packs were strewn across the floor around her. Crimson gripped one of those packs in her magic, occasionally bringing it up to her mouth to drink. The door to the room was shut and locked, the curtains were closed, and the lights were off. Not that she needed any lights, and she couldn’t have somecreature seeing her like this. If somecreature had seen her in such a state, they surely would have had a fit, or fainted.
Two long, sharp fangs hung down from her upper jaw, and a similar set of canines jutted up from below. Crimson’s eyes were a deep, blood-red, and slitted. The charm bracelet was off, the glamour it carried no longer affecting Crimson. And so she displayed her true visage; that of a full-fledged Vampony. The packs scattered around the room were designed to, and had once carried blood. Blood that she was now drunk on, crying her eyes out on the floor of her room alone.
Vamponies. Once thought only to be a myth, and still widely considered to be just mass hysteria that had somehow reached the princess. Ponies infected with Vampirism, unable to step foot outside for fear of the sun, only able to drink blood, altered irreparably beyond the common equine, and unable to return to the normalcy of their past lives. Crimson was lucky, with a charm bracelet enchanted to hide her nature, and the Vampiric talent of Sunwalking, able to walk among the living without being burnt by the rays of the sun. Garlic, stakes, grave dirt and mustard seeds still hurt though, and food rotted within an instant of placing it in her mouth. Only those with the Vampiric ability of Edax could eat mortal food.
Crimson took another swig from the pack, letting the dark liquid flow into her mouth with abandon. It tasted like the light of The Elysian Fields liquified and brought down by the angels in the form of a blood pack. Must have been an -O. With a disappointed sigh she tossed the pack aside as it ran empty. Crimson reached out with her magic, searching for another one. Too much blood gave a Vampony a pleasant buzz, and light-headedness. It was like being drunk, minus the awful taste.
The things Foggy had said were still fresh in her brain, even though it had been half a day ago. It was mostly stuff about being a ‘fossil’ or ‘old’. Crimson was thirty-eight. She’d been thirty-eight for forty years now. But the was one thing that really stuck was ‘you should have been killed in The Night Wars’.
She’d been there. Unlived through The Night Wars. Fought in them, even. That glorified feud had ended more good beings than she could count, and was ultimately fruitless. A huge series of wars, fought in the shadows by the creatures of those shadows, against each other. Too many casualties. And for what? No-one had won. Twilight and her friends had stepped in and solved everything. It had been just that easy.
Years and years of war, conflict, pain and endings. Solved by six intrepid ponies and a dragon.
Yeah. It stung, alright.
Another fat tear ran down Crimson’s face. Her tears weren’t actually water anymore. Just excess plasma. One of the things she missed most about mortality was mortal tears. Salty beads of water rolling down her face. It was a bit contrived, but it was something she missed. Not having a reflection was also pretty terrible, especially when you dyed your mane on the regular.
Why couldn’t she just cry like a normal pony?
She searched with her magic, frowning, before wiping away her tears and sitting up. Crimson’s eyes glowed slightly in the darkness, allowing her to see in the dark. The only other source of light in the room was the faint ambience of the mini fridge. A mini fridge that sat empty. The packs that were littered around the room were empty. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. No scent. No blood.
This was a problem.
No, this was more than a problem. This was probably going to be catastrophic. With no supply, Crimson would have to resort to feeding in the Everfree forest. The alternatives were unbearable; starve, or feed on another mortal.
Disaster loomed ominously on the horizon, Crimson was sure of it.
I cautiously stepped out of the cabin, my hooves sinking into the powdery snow. I looked around warily. Seeing nothing out of the norm, I sighed with relief and strode forward through the snow.
“AHA! THERE YOU ARE! IT SHALL BE A SNOWBALL FOR YOU!” A voice shouted from the roof behind me.
A freezing ball of ice and sleet hit my flank with an audible ‘pt’. I turned, wide-eyed to see the colt I had been afraid to see: Cobblestone. Another snowball lifted itself off the roof beside him, encased in a field of dark grey magic.
‘pt’
‘pt’
‘pt’
More snowballs hit me as I turned and ran. With a flap, I extended my wings and took off, trying to get as far away as possible from the thrower of the snowballs.
There! The lunch hall seemed like a lighthouse, a refuge from a storm. The doors swung open as another pony entered, and I swooped to fit into the doorway, before dropping to the floor inside. Unfortunately, a bench blocked my trajectory. I hit my side; not hard, but not exactly softly; on the edge of the bench. The air was forced out of my lungs, and I slid to the floor.
“Moonbeam? You good? The door swung shut behind me, and I turned to see the pony I’d just flown over. Vig.
I wheezed, trying to regain my breath. I shook my head slowly at Vig, trying to make her understand.
“Do you need me to get a Group Leader?” She asked.
I shook my head, a bit quicker this time. Breathing was steadily getting easier, and my chest was beginning to hurt less.
“Well, uh, if you say so…”
I nodded at her, before dragging myself to my hooves. Air flowed freely into my lungs, now, and few times before had it tasted so sweet.
“Prob- hah probably don’t go outside. Cobbl- Cobblestone’s out there with hah snowballs” I forced out. Speaking hurt.
“You sure you’re all good?” Vig asked again.
“Mhm”
“You wanna get breakfast now?”
“Mhmm”
One of the fun things about being a pegasus was larger, less easily damaged lungs. Which meant having the wind knocked out of you wasn’t as much of a problem. Although, hollow bones were easier to break. You win some, you lose some.
Breakfast. My second favourite meal of the day, after morning tea. And it just so happened that breakfast today was waffles and ice-cream. The food budget for this place must’ve been pretty good. When Vig and I finally got our plates of steaming waffles, and were about to sit down, a figure appeared at the door.
“YOU HAVE ESCAPED MY POWER, BUT NOT FOR LONG! IT SHALL BE SNOWBALLS FOR THE LOT OF YOU!”
Cobblestone. Levitating a pile of carefully-rolled snowballs in the air beside him. I ducked under the bench, pulling my scarf up over my head and snagging a few waffles on the way down.
“Uhh… Moonbeam? What’s happening? Why is-“
‘pt’
Vig was cut off as a snowball hit her square in the face. It would have been comical if the memory of snowballs hitting my own flank hadn’t been so fresh in my mind. With a shrug, she ducked under the bench with me. I offered her a waffle, which she accepted.
Shrieks and the odd scream from above was all that I could garner from the carnage above. It was a good a guess as any, but I thought Cobblestone was acting out like this because he didn’t get a cutie mark in storytelling. Indeed, though his story had been, in my opinion, the best, it hadn’t earned him a special talent etched onto his flank. I was beginning to doubt whether he could get one at all, despite his insistence that he not only could, but definitely would on this camp. He was half-dragon, and dragons certainly didn’t get cutie marks.
“BOW BEFORE MY ICY MIGHT! FOR I AM COBBLESTONE, THE CHILLINGLY POWERFUL!”
Cutie mark or no, he still had that dramatic flair. I hesitantly peeked out at the carnage happening above the bench. Most ponies had come to their senses, like me, and were hiding under the benches. Some, like Bright Stream and a few others, had decided to fight back, sometimes using Cobblestone’s own snowballs against him, sometimes making their own. A select group had actually decided to join him, mostly just unicorns and other magic-wielders.
While still above the bench, I decided to grab my plate, which still had one waffle and the ice-cream still on it.
‘pt’.
And got a snowball for my troubles. I still managed to secure the plate, waffle and and ice-cream, though, and I brought it back under the bench with me.
The chaos had to end soon, right?
The chaos showed no sign of stopping, or ending soon, as Vig and Moonbeam huddled under the bench. Vig was honestly considering making a break for it, but each time she’d tried, she’d been met with snowy fury.
At least Vig had been able to get her breakfast, however cold it now was. And Moonbeam wasn’t bad company. The last few times she had tried to escape, snowballs had been the result, but as the fight wore on, it seemed inevitable.
“You wanna try to make another break for it?” She asked
“Well, I’m willing to give it another try. We can’t stay under here much longer.”
“On three?”
“One…”
“Two…”
“THREE!”
Vig climbed quickly out from under the bench, vaulting over the seat and sprinting to the door.
‘pt’
‘pt’
‘pt’
Snowballs hit her from every angle as she ran, but the door was so close now, she couldn’t stop. Vig could hear Moonbeam just behind her, sprinting just as she was. The door was ten hoofsteps away, now it was nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…
And then they were over threshold, away from the messy carnage of the lunch hall, and out into the snowy landscape of the camp. No more snowballs hurtling towards her. It was peaceful.
“So, where do we go from here?” Her pegasus friend asked.
“Ugh, can we go anywhere away from my cabin? Crimson Thorn’s locked in her bedroom. Been crying since the early hours.”
“Yeah, ok. What’d Foggy say to her, anyways? Must’ve been pretty bad.”
Vig nodded absentmindedly. Where could the two of them go? The Everfree was a big no-no, the lunch hall was off the table, and her cabin wasn’t exactly ideal. The craft studio? Probably locked. Moonbeam’s cabin? Maybe.
“Hey Moonbeam? We could go to your cabin, you know.”
“Eh, why the Tartarus not. It’s kinda bland though. Birch wood everywhere. I mean, it feels like eating milk-dipped bread just looking around!” They explained.
“Hey! Don’t discount BreadMilk!”
Moonbeam let out a deep sigh and looked down, before looking back up at Vig. “Please. Kill me or something. AND NEVER MENTION BREADMILK TO ME EVER AGAIN, VIG!”
She chortled before saying in a stage whisper; “BreadMilk…”
in the afternoon of that day
After the events of the morning, the Group Leaders had decided to let the campers have the afternoon off. Gybh sat alone on the back deck of the Palm Cabin, which overlooked the lake, and was pretty nice. A book sat in her lap, long abandoned in order to gaze at the beautiful lake. Even though it was… partially frozen? It was covered in a paper-thin layer of ice in the places that weren’t completely frozen over and covered in piles of snow.
“Hey Gybh, got a minute?” Foggy Bramble. Hopefully about to apologise for the display at lunch yesterday.
“Yep!” She turned to face Foggy with her customary smile stretched wide upon her face.
“So, with next week being… what it is and all, do you reckon you could… damn, how do I say this. I need you to keep me locked up somewhere for all the nights of next week.”
Ah. That wasn’t what she was hoping for, but it was most definitely a good idea. The last time the moon had risen full over the camp while Foggy had been there… hadn’t ended so well.
“Sure! You have a place in mind? Like a homey cave, or like the craft studio?”
Foggy laughed nervously. This probably wasn’t good.
“What about the Staff Basement? I mean, we aren’t using it for anything right now.”
Oh dear. The Staff Basement. Probably definitely haunted, but dead bolted and discreet… it’d do. Gybh couldn’t imagine being locked down there without a chill running down her spine. The only light was a bulb hanging from the ceiling, which flickered like it was having a seizure, and the floor was nothing more than bare ground. No-one stored anything down there anymore, and Gybh was certain that once all the current staff moved on, it’d fade into obscurity; a campfire story, nothing more than a legend. And a spooky one at that.
“Ok. If you’re comfortable being locked down there all night, I can do that for you.” She said finally.
“Don’t feel too bad about it, I’m probably lucky not to remember most of the night. Especially down in that basement.” Foggy’s voice dropped to a low mutter as she spoke the last sentence.
“Oh, and by the way, sorry about yesterday. Me and Crimson shouldn’t fight as much around the kids, but it can’t be helped sometimes.”
There it was. The apology. Gybh smiled and nodded to herself. She’d been right about what Foggy would say, even if she was also technically wrong.
The day was over. Twilight’s sun had sunk low beneath the horizon, leaving her moon to rise, nearly full, and hang low in the sky. I couldn’t sleep, and not wanting to go outside at this hour, I was sitting on my bed, staring out the window. Cobblestone snored, as I discovered, very loudly. It had been him keeping the whole cabin awake for hours the last few nights. His snoring was part of why I couldn’t sleep. But it wasn’t that bad. What was really keeping me up was the thick gloom lurking outside the window in the form of night. Every so often, I’d catch a glimpse of movement, just beyond the tree line.
And once. Just once, did I see something that kept me up. It was only for a moment, a split second, but I know what I saw.
A pair of eyes, bright, incandescently, glowingly red. The pupils were but slits, but not like those of Cobblestone’s or any other creature I’d ever seen. The eyes were… wrong. Unnatural, like a fleeting look at the monsters that lurk under foal’s beds. An ephemeral espy of something far darker than I was supposed to see.
I didn’t sleep well. Tartarus, I barely slept at all. My thoughts kept churning and swirling, coming up with increasingly darker explanations for the eyes. Every time I looked out at the Everfree, it seemed to be brimming with sinister red eyes, staring out at me.
When I couldn’t keep my own eyes open any longer, my dreams were filled with a thick haze of smoke and red, red eyes.