//------------------------------// // I couldn’t lose you. But I did. // Story: Cutie Mark Camp Blues // by Moonbeam Thought Writes //------------------------------// Incident report: 032A To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom Re: My actions. Grand Chancellor, I must offer my most sincere, utmost apologies for my dreadful actions. It’s actually Foggy Bramble’s fault, if you think about it. I drank the last of my supply thanks to her and look what happened. I accept any and all punishment for my actions. If you cannot forgive me, then I accept my fate, whether it be community service, or a dark, easily forgotten spot in the Royal Dungeon. And if you see the poor filly, you know the one I mean, please. Tell her I’m sorry. I truly am. She should have had a shot at life. I cannot stress how apologetic I truly am. Warm regards from an unfortunately cold heart, Crimson Thorn “Isn’t this jacket just the best? It’s warm, cosy, fluffy…” “No. It’s not. You wear it just to spite me, I know it. The colour offends me on a visceral level, Moonbeam. It makes me want to rip my eyes out just thinking about it!” “Awww, is little Stoney offended? How sad.” “Shut up, Vig. Tell me you aren’t deeply antagonised by it’s very existence!” My jacket. A topical point of discussion, as it turned out. Cobblestone hated it with a burning passion, and Vig thought it was cool. Probably because he hated it so much. It wasn’t exactly dragon hide, or made of a pony’s skin, or anything that would usually assault the sensibilities, but it was a beautiful, ethereal light blue. I didn’t get why he hated it so much, unless he had a specific thing against Star Spider weave. The reason I had like it in the first place was the special qualities of such a fabric, particularly it’s glow-in-the-dark properties. “Personally, I think the jacket is just great! Don’t know about you though…” Vig snarked at him. “I DESPISE IT” Cobblestone declared, slamming his hooves against the bench for emphasis. Our plates rattled as he did so. It was a nice jacket. Like a deep midnight lightened and desaturated to an airy light blue, shimmering like starlight reflected on a river. Several patches had been stitched on, my favourite being a neon-green circle with a UFO emblazoned upon it. The inside of the jacket was fleecy wool, like a cloud, except actually fluffy, unlike a cloud’s temperamentally semipermanent solidity. “I can’t believe you, Sauvignon! The jacket hurts my soul!” Now it was Vig’s turn to be offended; “Hey! Don’t use that name with me! Twilight, you remind me of Mother.” “I don’t get why you hate this jacket so much, Cobblestone. It keeps me warm, it glows in the dark, and it’s got cool patches. What’s the problem?” I asked him, pretending to ignore the vehement glare Vig was giving him. “The problem? The problem? The PROBLEM is it’s EXISTENCE in my general area! It shall be the death of me, the death!” “Well, I’m not taking it off.” “I’m with Moonbeam. It’s a nice jacket. Why do you hate it, Stoney?” “Stop calling me that! It’s embarrassing!” he grumbled between clenched teeth “How about… no.” Vig spat. “Fine. Sauvignon Glamour.” He hissed back at her. “I hate you more than you hate that jacket right now.” “I hate you times two. Hah! That’s twice as much hate, Sauvignon!” The jacket was honestly just not that bad. I hoped those two fighting wouldn’t become a regular occurrence. Both were valued (friends? Associates? Ponies I knew?) ponies I knew. “Can you guys quit it? It’s not that bad of a jacket, Cobblestone, but it’s not that great either, Vig. And for the record, I’m still not going to take it off. It’s cold today!” “Well, I mean, we did get some rain last night, so yeah. It’s cold.” Vig mused “I know. I was up pretty late last night.” I replied “Doing what, spying on the rest of us while we slept?” Cobblestone asked jokingly. “No, no, just couldn’t sleep.” I let out a yawn to accompany my statement. “I’m with you there. It almost felt like there was something moving about in the Everfree. Something dark… something dangerous…” Vig’s tone dropped to a low murmur, and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Wait- you saw the eyes too?” I asked, hope rising in me. That meant it wasn’t just my imagination! “What? No. I didn’t see anything. I’m just trying to get at you.” She laughed. “Speaking of things trying to get at ponies, do you know what’s trying to get at me?” Cobblestone started “Is it the jacket?” Vig and I said in unison. “IT’S THAT EVIL JACKET! THE ROOT OF ALL TERRIBLE THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE!” And we were back to the jacket. I was actually considering taking it off, despite what I said. Too much grief caused by a garment of any kind. Foggy Bramble paced the room, thinking. It was less of a ‘room’ and more of a dingy space surrounded on all four sides by slowly rotting wood and the floor was bare earth, but a room nonetheless. She’d had to turn the light off because of how it flickered, but she didn’t need it to see, anyways. Her pupils were faintly illuminated, allowing her to see through the gloom. Small slivers of sunlight filtered through the boards that made up the walls, and hopeful weeds had sprung up in the corners. It’d do. The walls may have been weak, but she was sure they’d hold up for at least a night. The door to the Staff Basement was nice, thick concrete. It’d been installed since Incident 031D… happened. That’d definitely hold up. And not to mention the only handle was on the other side of the door. Yeah, the Staff Basement was a passable solution. As long as the walls held up. Even then, Foggy Bramble could feel it. The pull, deep within her bones, the snarling beast sleeping just beneath the surface. Giving in, letting her out was as natural as breathing. Foggy could hold her breath for as long as she could, but eventually she’d have to breath again. And with the Winter Moon Festival as close as it was, a week of full moons, she could feel the other stir within her. With luck, she’d be able to keep it at bay until then. Foggy would be the one in control, at least til the full moon. She had to be. As tempting as it was, to just let herself go, to release her, it wasn’t even a risk. It was a full-blown tragedy in the works. “You still down there?” Gybh called from at the top of the stairs. “Yeah. I’m coming back up now. This’ll work” she replied, making her way to the stairs. “Good. Good. Is there a specific time I have to bring you down here or…” “Before the sun sets. Lock me down here before the sun sets. It’ll be safe to let me out when the sun’s back up.” “Do you want me to get up a bit earlier so I can come get you first thing?” “I mean, if it’s no trouble, of course.” Gybh nodded. Foggy trotted back up the stairs quickly, doing her best to mind the broken step third from the top. Gybh was fidgeting nervously, staring into the darkness of the basement with a look of mild fear edged with horror. Everypony remembered Incident 031D. How could they forget? Every night, for weeks on end, the Group Leaders had heard scratching from the other side of the Staff Basement’s door. The oldest of the Group Leaders, Blunt Hatchet, had always dismissed it. He had been employed in the camp the longest, and so Bright Stream, Gybh, Crimson Thorn, and Foggy Bramble trusted him. There’d been another pony employed around the same time as him. Cayenne. Cayenne was a hothead, trusting nopony, and forever breaking The Guidelines. It’d been Cayenne who’d finally opened the Staff Basement’s door one fateful night, when he just couldn’t stand the noises anymore. Turns out it hadn’t been nothing. And Blunt Hatchet’s axe wasn’t as harmlessly blunt as he had claimed it to be. A Zombie, pushing back the veil of death, every night, in order to seek revenge on it’s killer. Scratching and clawing fruitlessly at the rotted wood of the door, every single night. The camp had been shut down for weeks, while a murder investigation took place. The tabloids ran story after story after never-ending story on the camp. Endless amounts of forensic ponies and mediums had been called in to the crime scene. That was what it had turned into: a crime scene. And when the perpetrator was finally caught, it was only because of another murder he’d committed, not a month later. Cayenne’s body had been found, hacked to pieces by a crude axe, and spread around the Everfree. And who was the killer, but Blunt Hatchet. He had been sloppy with his second victim, only remembering to dismember him in order for there not to be another Zombie on the loose. Oh the storm the media had whipped up at this. The sale of trinkets claiming to ward off dark magic had nearly tripled in response. Blunt Hatchet was tried, and found guilty without a shred of doubt; sentenced to life in the Royal Dungeons in the crystal caves beneath the palace. When the law enforcement had moved on, and the media had found another event to obsess over, the higher-ups had quietly replaced the door with something much stronger, and a little more soundproof. Cayenne’s funeral had been a sad affair. Quiet, but sad. Thankfully, the paparazzi knew to keep their distance, and photography wasn’t allowed. Not a dry eye had been left after the service. Even with the dark past, the Staff Basement would do well to keep Foggy Bramble out of trouble for the next week. But Foggy was still pretty glad to step over the threshold, and lock the door behind her. It had been a full morning, with ice-skating on the now fully-frozen lake, and calligraphy in the craft studio. And those had just been the activities Sauvignon Glamour had chosen to do. Cobblestone had had to be sent to the camp nurse, for the second time in a week, after he somehow managed to crack the ice while skating, and falling in the lake. Again. Into the part of the lake sectioned off because of the leeches. Again. Leaving Vig and Moonbeam to sit without him at lunch. “Hey, so, about what you said this morning…” Vig started “What did I say this morning? I can hardly remember half the things I say.” “About the ‘eyes’. What’d you see last night?” Moonbeam’s eyes widened, and she dropped her sandwich. They quickly recovered and gave Vig a silent shake of the head. “Can we not talk about it here? I don’t really think it’s safe to talk too much about it. You never know which walls have ears!” “Ok. Quit the ‘conspiracy’ gag. It’s not funny, and I think you know that.” Vig replied, unintentionally loud. This drew a few pairs of eyes, which had Moonbeam shooting a quick glare at Vig. “Fine, fine. Where do you want to spill the beans, then?” They leaned in and whispered “8:00 tonight. Back deck of your cabin.” Vig rolled her eyes. She’d never liked doing things all ‘cloak and dagger’-y. But if her (maybe) friend thought it was too important to say out in the open, then it might have some merit to do things the ‘cloak and dagger’-y way. “5:30 tonight. Back deck of my cabin.” “7:00.” “6:30” Moonbeam smiled. “Deal.” “Ok, but can you drop the whole ‘conspiracy’ act now? I’m trying to eat my sandwich here!” The back deck of the Mahogany Cabin. 6:23. Dinner was in full swing over in the not-so-aptly named lunch hall. The cabin was near-silent, and Crimson Thorn was almost certain she was all alone. ‘Almost’ certain because she could smell blood. The blood of a creature who’s heart still beat. And it smelled delicious. Which was why she was currently locked in the Staff Bedroom, doing the best she could to ignore the dryness slowly building up at the back of her throat. That, and the soft numbness slowly creeping up on her mind. Crimson hadn’t had anything to drink since the night before, and she was thirsty. Only a few more minutes. Hoping, praying to whatever deity heard her that the being would come to it’s senses and run away. One minute passed. Two. The creature, whatever it was, was still there. Three. A cold sweat was beginning to run down Crimson’s forehead. Four. A dull ache began in her canines. Five. The charm bracelet was freezing to the touch, and so she yanked it off, flinging it across the room. Six. Her horn started to buzz with magic, red sparks flying from it. Seven. It was too much. Crimson couldn’t hold it back any longer. She reached out with her magic and quietly unlocked the door. It was agony, being this close to a creature of warm, delicious blood, but she couldn’t help herself. The quiet, pervasive music of the hunt throbbed in her long-empty veins. Tonight, she would feed. 6:31 I probably wasn’t late. At least, I hoped I wasn’t late. Vig hadn’t shown up for dinner, and so I had eaten a few hearty mouthfuls and set off for the Mahogany Cabin. And I’m pretty sure I was late. In a swift wingbeat, I launched myself off the ground and soared towards the cabin. It was at least 20 hoofsteps away on foot, but I could get there in under a minute while in the air. As I passed over the roof of the cabin, I set myself down on the thick tiles with a ‘thump’. I walked with a brisk trot to the back of the cabin. Were those voices I heard? Vig’s I recognised, but the other, a rasping growl of a voice dripping with what I could only describe as hunger, I’d never heard before. “Why-why do y-you look like th-that?” Vig sounded afraid. Very afraid. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” The rasping voice pleaded. Uh-oh. This probably wasn’t good. I stopped just before the end of the roof, and crouched, quietly creeping to the edge of the tiles. The owner of the raspy voice looked like a pony. That was my first thought. My second was that it couldn’t be. It had pitch-black hair and a coat only a shade paler than the snow blanketing the ground. It had a pair of monstrously huge fangs hanging down from it’s upper jaw. A pair of similarly sharp fangs came up from it’s bottom jaw. And then I saw the eyes. The same eyes I glimpsed last night. The ones that kept me up all night. I felt frozen, rooted in place. My muscles tensed, and my mouth wrenched itself open for a scream that never came. I couldn’t move, could hardly breath. I couldn’t do anything when the world came crashing down around me. The monster surged forward, latching onto Vig’s neck with those horrible, horrible fangs. She cried out, but nopony responded. I should have pushed it off her, fought it off, anything. But there was nothing I could do. I was stuck in place, frozen in time. There was nothing I could do as Vig’s eyes shut and she fell heavily onto the ground. There was nothing I could do as the thin, barely visible lacework of veins beneath her coat disappeared. There was nothing I could do as the monster tore itself off her neck, and licked the blood off it’s muzzle. THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO I’m sorry, Sauvignon Glamour. There was nothing I could do. The beast jolted forward suddenly, and a spark of life flared within it’s eyes. It stared down at the lifeless body of my friend in obvious horror. “nononononononononononono ohhhhhhhh nonono what have I done” it whispered hoarsely. Then, the hideous, awful, horrible monster stumbled back, before turning and jumping over the railing; disappearing into the thickly falling darkness of the Everfree. My joints shook with a start, and I could move again. I propelled myself off the roof, landing messily next to Vig’s fallen form. “Vig! No. No. This isn’t happening!” Tears erupted from my eyes and I shook her shoulders desperately. “Please, Sauvignon Glamour! Please! Wake up!” I rolled her over onto her back, feeling her wrist for a pulse. “Nononononono…” There was no pulse. My breath was coming in short gasps now, and I could barely see through my tears. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be dead! I almost didn’t notice it, but Vig’s beautiful golden hair was slowly changing. It was a few strands at first, and then small chunks. Soon, large sections of her hair were completely jet-black. I shook my head, and hurriedly wiped my tears away. It must have just been my imagination. And then Vig shot straight up, her chest heaving with a deep gasp, and her eyes flung themselves open. “VIG!” I wrapped her in a tight, if not awkward hug. Her breathing was irregular, and I couldn’t feel her heartbeat, but she appeared to be alive, and that was all that mattered to me in the moment. “Sauvignon Glamour, don’t you ever scare me like that ever again” I murmured over her shoulder. She laughed weakly, leaning into the embrace. “So long as you don’t call me ‘Sauvignon Glamour’. Wh- what happened?” I would have cried, then and there, if I wasn’t already. “Yo- you died, Vig. You died.” “Oh. Is that why you’re crying and hugging me?” I nodded, and squeezed her tightly, before letting go and moving away. I looked at her fondly. And then my heart dropped. Hanging off her upper jaw were two menacing fangs. Her eyes had changed from their vibrant plum to a bright, warning-sign red. In the place of normal pupils, were a pair of slits. Vig frowned upon seeing my expression. “What’s wrong?” “You have- you ha- YOU HAVE FANGS!” She hesitantly raised a hoof to her mouth, eyes wide. She barely brushed one of the oversized canines, and flinched. “WHY DO I HAVE FANGS?”