//------------------------------// // CHAPTER 3: Strangers on the Road // Story: MLP: The Long Dark // by SparrowFae //------------------------------// “Someone may look unusual, or funny, or scary. But you have to look past that and learn who they are inside.” CHAPTER 3: Strangers on the Road * * * * * Colored light filtered through the falling snowflakes, making them glow in red, green, blue, and yellow. The fresh, cold air carried a few of the rainbow flakes to land on my nose as I inhaled an invigorating breath. It was late, far past the time I'd normally be asleep on Hearth’s Warming Eve. But the energy of the big city night and the lingering thrill of the pageant had me feeling like I'd had a whole pot of Granny’s double-strength coffee. The memory was as vibrant as the decorative lights adorning every building and lamp post. We were in Canterlot, the capital of Equestria, to perform lead roles in the annual Hearth's Warming Eve pageant. It was my favorite holiday, and everything had gone perfectly that year. The play was done, and me and all my friends were given the honor of having our families hosted in the Princess' palace for the celebrations. "Hey, close the window already, everyone else is already at the meet-and-greet!" Twilight’s brusque command was diluted by her cheerful tone and obvious excitement. "Alright alright, I'm a'comin," I said, shutting the window and taking special care to make sure it was properly latched this time. If I weren't so much in the holiday spirit, I'd be a bit grumpy that Rainbow Dash hadn't bothered to fly up and take care of the window. But she had been in such a hurry to get to her "adoring fans'' that she'd probably have just left it unlatched anyway. The dressing room was empty by the time I climbed down from the ladder. At least it seemed empty, but as I turned toward the door, I noticed the little, yellow pegasus sitting behind a costume rack. "You not coming out to mingle Fluttershy?" "Oh, you go ahead. I was just going to put my costume away," the meek pony said, gesturing at the shiny fake armor she was wearing. "You sure? Usually the performers are supposed to keep their costumes on for the meet-and-greet." "I know, it's just that I don't really know anypony out there. I'm sure no pony would be interested in meeting and greeting with me." "Don't ya'll have any family that came to see the show?" I asked with a sudden sinking feeling. Fluttershy retreated behind her long, pastel pink mane. "Well, no. My brother likes to spend the holidays at home, so my parents couldn't get away to come to the show." I stared at her, aghast. "Are you saying you're gonna be spending Hearth's Warming all on your lonesome?" "Oh of course not. I was probably going to fly back to Cloudsdale in the afternoon, if the weather isn't too bad." My heart broke for the filly. She was always so quiet and unassuming. Most ponies never paid her any mind, but over the past couple years, I'd gotten to see her how she really was. Observant, thoughtful, and probably the bravest pony I've ever met. We'd faced some pretty scary varmints together, and I knew she was always the the most afraid, but she never wavered. At least, not when it really counted. It made me feel awful protective of her, not because I thought she needed it, but because she deserved it. She faced her fears over and over for us, it was only right that I be a solid friend who would watch her back and stand with her when things got tough. "Alright, sugar. You don't have to mingle if'n you don't want to. But you know, Applebloom's favorite character from the play is Private Pansy. She'd love to see the costume up close. If it's not too much trouble, would you mind making an appearance in our suite tomorrow morning? You'd be welcome to stay for breakfast. Granny Smith always makes too many flapjacks." Fluttershy emerged from her mane with a smile. "I'd love to!" She said with demure enthusiasm. "It's always nice to see Applebloom. And Big Mac is such nice company. Thank you so much for the invitation." "Applejack, are you there?" Twilight was calling from the hallway. "Be right there!" I called over my shoulder, but my voice was suddenly muffled by a thick fog that must have overtaken the room while I was talking to Fluttershy. I turned back to my timid friend, but she was gone, lost in the fog. I was alone, standing in an endless sea of mist, strangling on the crushing knowledge that I would never see her again. * * * * * I didn't open my eyes when I woke up. My head hurt so bad that I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to see straight anyway. Trying to focus my thoughts was like corralling cats, but I knew that something had just happened to me, and it was important to remember what. Slowly, I pieced together my memories of the previous day. The empty town. Then the disaster of the burnt school. Then a house with smoke from the chimney. "Twilight!" I hollered, remembering why I had come into the house. Was that where I was now? Gingerly, I opened my eyes and sat up. It felt like I was on a cruise ship in bad weather, but I managed to get my eyes lined up enough to look around. I was in bed. I vaguely remembered somepony helping me lay down. They hadn't covered me with the blankets, but it was just as well since they apparently hadn't bothered taking off any of my gear. Even my saddlebags were still strapped to my sides. The room was dark, and besides the bed it was mostly empty. The only other thing was a big steamer chest against one wall. Standing from the bed took the same effort as I usually spent running a course at a rodeo, and once I was up I felt like a plate spinning on a stick. With a grimace, I noticed the swelling bump on the back of my head when I reached up to adjust my hat. So I hadn't imagined that somepony had hit me with a frying pan. The door was wide open, so it seemed whoever it was didn't want to keep me prisoner, but I decided to be a little more careful walking around corners for now. Emerging from the room, I found myself at the top of a staircase. It was almost too dark to see the stairs. Instinctively, I reached for a nearby light switch, flipping it with a click. Nothing happened. I flipped the switch a few more times before I realized what my ears already knew. The house was way too quiet. Normally there was always some low-level sound in any home. Refrigerators hummed, furnaces rumbled. But the only thing I could hear was the soft murmur of a fire. No power. Could that explain why there hadn't been any rescue party to the crash site? Must have been one heck of a power outage for everypony to overlook an entire train gone missing. It felt like another piece to an ominous puzzle. I didn't know if I actually wanted to see what it looked like completed. "I know you're up. Why don't you come downstairs so we can talk." I stiffened at the unfamiliar voice. It was good to hear another pony for the first time in days, but that definitely was not Twilight, and a strange voice in a strange house where I'd recently been knocked unconscious was far from comforting. For a moment, I considered going back and pretending to be asleep, or even trying to slip out the bedroom window. But whoever this mystery pony was, they were my best chance at picking up Twilight’s trail. With a gulp, I descended the stairs. There were pictures on the wall of the stairwell. Very old pictures, mostly of two mares in the outdoors. They looked happy. As I emerged into a firelit sitting room, I found an elderly mare who bore a close resemblance to one of the mares in the photos, though it was hard to tell for sure given the long years that had obviously passed since the pictures were taken. On top of that, the old earth pony had a blindfold tied neatly over her eyes. She rocked slowly in her chair, the firelight dancing over her ash-gray coat. I gulped again as I noticed the frying pan she held in her lap. "That's close enough," she said. Her voice was soft, but not like she was shy or frightened. It was more like she was keeping her tone under a tight and deliberate control. She gripped the handle of the frying pan. “Stay right there. The first time I hit you was a warning. Any closer and you’ll see how much strength is left in these old limbs.” "I don't want no trouble ma'am," I said, holding up a placating hoof. I instantly felt like an oaf, realizing she couldn't see the gesture. I tried to put the same sentiment into my words instead. "My name’s Applejack.” She regarded me with a raised eyebrow for a moment and then seemed to relax slightly. "You can call me Gray Mare,” she responded, “What are you doing here?” “I'm just passing through,” I said, “Looking for a friend of mine." "Not from here," She said, tilting her head in a way that reminded me of a crow, "Hmm. No threats, no yelling, no demands for Gray Mare. Outsider. But not one of the bad ones?" "I don't mean you no harm, if that's what you mean," I said, unsure if she was even addressing the question to me. Something about the way she spoke seemed off. Before Aunt Golden Delicious had passed away, she'd spent nearly a year with memory problems. Whenever anypony tried to talk to her, she'd respond, but it was like she was talking to somepony else, usually somepony from a long time ago. Sometimes she'd mistake us for our parents, or think she was talking to a younger version of my Granny. This Gray Mare didn't seem quite so bad, but there was a hint of the same sort of mental detachment. "No," she sighed, petting her frying pan like a pet, "Not one of the bad ones. So why do you come to Gray Mare? Why come to Fillyton? Outsiders never come to Fillyton." "There was an accident," I said slowly. “Our train crashed up in the mountains. I got separated from my friend. Has a unicorn mare been through her recently?" Her brows knit in a sort of pained concentration. "Unicorn mare," she repeated, "Maybe. There were voices. When the lights went out. And the other lights came on." "You mean the aurora and the power outage? Do you know what happened? Why no pony seems to be doing anything to fix it?" She gave a wry chuckle. "Fix it? We can't fix it. Last time we had an outage this bad, we waited weeks for outsiders to bring equipment from the mainland. And they never finished the repairs. So many ponies lost their homes or jobs. The ones who could leave took whatever they had and went to the mainland. But this. . ." She leaned back in her chair, "this isn't like last time." "I'm sure somepony will be here soon," I said, trying to comfort the elderly Mare, "The Princesses will know there's something wrong out here. They'll send help and we'll have everything back to normal in a couple shakes of a timberwolves trail." Gray Mare fixed me with a stare so strong, I could feel her eyes on me even through the blindfold. I actually had to look away after a moment. "You don't know," she said, her tone a mix of wonder and pity. "Don't know what?" I asked with a growing dread. "Everything has changed. It's not just the electricity that is gone. Magic stopped working too." I blinked. “You mean unicorns are having trouble with spells?” The elderly mare shook her head slowly. “I mean magic has stopped. All magic.” At first I couldn’t even comprehend it. She might as well have said rainbows had stopped working. Magic wasn’t some pony invention, it was just something that was always there. Unicorns could use it to cast spells to create just about any kind of short-term effect. Pegasi controlled the weather on an immense scale. And earth ponies could imbue long-lasting enchantments into anything they put enough work into. And that was just pony magic. There were countless other creatures and phenomena that produced or manipulated magical effects. Magic was like gravity: just a natural and immutable part of the world. If it just disappeared . . . it really would change everything. “I need to find Twilight,” I said woodenly, not even realizing I was about to speak. But once I said it, I knew it was more true than ever. I needed to find my friend. The one pony I knew who could take on another world-threatening calamity. Even ... even if it was just the two of us now. “Twilight? Your friend?” Gray Mare said. I nodded in response, then kicked myself again for using body language with a blind mare. “Yes,” I said hastily, “She might know what’s going on. Maybe even how to fix it. ” Gray Mare took in a long breath leaning her head back against the chair and gently setting the frying pan down, leaning it against the stone of the fireplace. She looked peaceful, almost wistful. “No. There is no fixing this time. No repairs to make. You go. Find your friend. But this is the end for Gray Mare.” Her tone set every nerve in my body on edge. “Now hold on one apple-picking minute,” I said, my voice cracking with the prolonged stress of the past few days. I hadn’t survived a train crash, freezing temperatures, an unstable train bridge, and a blizzard just for the one pony who might have seen Twilight to give in to despair right in front of my eyes. I risked the few steps it took to bring me to her side and sat down by her chair, placing a firm hoof on her shoulder. “Things might look bad, but you can’t give up yet. Please, you’re the only pony I’ve seen in days, I don’t know who else to ask for help.” “You don’t understand,” her voice wavered, “I can’t help you. I can’t – I can’t remember. It’s been quiet for so long. Food ran out. Wood is almost gone. Everything is slipping away, bit by bit. I can’t leave. And I don’t have much time left.” My eyes widened in realization. If the magic had stopped, then there was nothing keeping the warmth in her home or keeping her food from going bad. After nearly a week, she may have already gone a few days without food. And I knew how fast you went through firewood when you had to burn it constantly to stay warm. Maybe some of her delirium was just from hunger and cold. I thought about all of the empty houses. I didn’t know for sure that everypony who lived in Fillyton had died in the school fire. They might be out in the wilderness, expecting to come home to whatever they had locked away. They would have food, water, fuel. Everything Gray Mare needed right now. I could take it all, gather all the possessions of the townsponies and bring it here to support this one mare. It wouldn’t be much different than when I took supplies from the logging camp, right? It was just survival. Gray Mare's breathing was a quiet, steady rhythm. I’d gotten to see my Aunty Golden not long before the end. Her breathing had been shallower, less regular. But the stillness of a body just waiting for death is something you can’t fake. If I didn’t take those supplies, Gray Mare would die. Soon. And she’d take any clues to finding Twilight with her. “I’ll get you some food,” I said gently, “Enough to last til help comes. Firewood too. This ain’t the end of Gray Mare just yet, you hear?” I placed a hoof lightly on her cheek, turning her face so she was looking at mine. “You and I, we’re both gonna get through this.” Her ear twitched as I spoke. For a while she was quiet and I almost thought she’d fallen asleep. But then, she lifted her head and turned her face to me. “I believe you,” she said, almost sounding surprised. “There’s a convenience store on the edge of town. It might not have much left, but if there are any supplies to be found, you will find some there. And … maybe some painkillers as well," she said with a hint of apology. I rubbed the back of my head, hoping she was right. "Go. And while you’re gone, I will try to remember.” Satisfied, I left the ashen mare and ventured out into the silent cold. I must have been unconscious for a few hours because the sun was starting to drift behind the horizon. I wasn't excited about being out after dark, but I wasn't sleepy and every hour I wasted was an hour that Twilight was out here alone. I decided to check some of the houses on my way to the gas station, hoping to get a head start on my scavenging. The first house I came to was open, the door slightly ajar on its hinges. Wind had blown snow into the small living room. The dwindling light of dusk wasn't enough to do a thorough job of searching the house, so I just made a quick pass through the kitchen cupboards. There was no food to be found, but as I was groping around, I managed to stumble across a can opener. I happily stashed that in my saddlebag. Not that smashing cans open was too hard for me, but I always spilled some of the food when I did that. Plus, now I could keep some cans for cooking that weren't all dented and bent. It was eerie being in somepony’s home like that. I knew that in all likelihood, the owner of this house was buried in the scorched wreckage of the school. Their life was probably over. But everything they had was still here, waiting. Books and magazines were stacked by a sitting chair in front of a fireplace. One piece of wood leaned against the wall nearby. I picked that up and stashed it in my pack. In the small bedroom, I found the bed tidily made and another water bottle on the nightstand, this one actually filled. That I also took. By then, the waning light was struggling to push through the frosty windows, casting the interior into a deepening darkness. I groped around in a few drawers, but found nothing else of interest and decided it was time to move on. I left the house wondering if anypony would ever sleep in that bed again or use the fireplace. Would ponies return to make Fillyton a home again? Or was I the last soul to walk these streets, fluttering from house to house like a carrion bird. The thought drew my attention to the ragged calls of crows echoing through the empty town. The last time I'd encountered crows, they had been hovering over the dead engineer pony. I shivered at the memory of flame-colored hair on a pale scalp. That was an experience I'd rather not repeat, but it sounded like the crow calls were coming from the edge of town, in the direction I expected to find the convenience store. I took a deep breath to steady the hammering in my chest, and reluctantly made my way through the rest of town. It was too dark now to do any proper scavenging from the houses. The moon had risen and was casting a ghostly light over the landscape, but as soon as I stepped inside, it would be darker than a groundhog's cellar. I would probably have to light a fire inside the convenience store just to see enough to loot. As I was approaching the store, lamenting the need to burn good firewood just for light, I noticed an unnerving figure on the road. It was starkly black against the packed snow, but blended with the surrounding shadows into a formless mass. A halo of circling crows danced high above, calling excitedly into the cloudy night sky. They were anticipating something. Something to do with the strange figure on the road. The shape moved. My muscles tensed with anticipation and my limbs flooded with adrenaline as the wind carried to me the scent of blood and the soft sounds of teeth on flesh. My body knew what I was looking at before I could make out the shaggy fur and lanky silhouette of a wolf. Growing up near the Everfree forest, I was used to timberwolves, the constructs of wood and brush animated by primal enchantments. The animal in front of me shared a similar form, but was clearly flesh and bone. This was a living creature, the likes of which would have stalked my ancestors in times forgotten by pony history but remembered all too well by my natural instinct. I froze, my ears, eyes, and nose focused intently on the wolf. He was eating something. It looked similar to the small bunny rabbits that Fluttershy would frequently have in her care, only bigger and skinnier. The wolf had torn out its innards and was greedily snapping them up when it noticed my presence, tilting yellow eyes up to gaze at me. Now, I've always known that ponies aint the top of the food chain. I've tangled with manticores and chimeras and hydras, all critters that will eat you as soon as talk to you. But those were all monsters, creatures of magic and malevolence. Well, the manticore was just angry on account of a thorn in his paw, but the rest of the hostile creatures I've run across seem like their whole purpose was to threaten ponykind. But standing eye to eye with the wolf was different. There was no malice in his gaze, no hatred or even any aggression. There was nothing personal about our relationship. He was predator. I was prey. He would tear me apart and devour me down to my bones simply because that's what he did to survive. He licked his lips, regarding me. I knew I didn't have much time before he made his decision whether to pounce and make a meal of me. Every cell in my body wanted to run, to turn and flee as fast as I could. But I knew that he would want the exact same thing. He wouldn't be able to resist the chase, and frankly, I didn't like my chances while I was weighed down by my pack and winter clothing. I knew I only had one option. Moving as smoothly as I could, I reached into the bottom of my pack and drew out the sharp, metal shard I had taken from the train wreck, gripping it tightly in my teeth. The wolf tilted his head curiously. If he knew that I was holding a weapon, he didn't seem to care. Almost lazily, he began circling me, his enormous paws supporting his entire weight without sinking into the snow. I turned slowly, always keeping him in front of me. His black fur was dusted with shimmering snow, a testament to the quality of its insulation. As he came around, the reflective surface deep within his eyes caught the moonlight and flashed neon green. That was the moment he chose to lunge. He came in teeth first. Shining fangs, long as barn nails and just as sharp, aimed right at my throat. I couldn’t bring my makeshift knife to block without putting my face in his jaws, so I braced myself and thrust a foreleg up into his mouth. We collided in a puff of fur and snow, his weight slamming me backwards and nearly sending me sprawling. My hoof in his maw must have been unexpected as he made a gagging expression for a split second before snapping his mouth shut. I pulled my foreleg back, knowing that the razor teeth and leverage from his powerful jaw muscles would probably snip my hoof right off. With my sudden movement, I managed to avoid losing my limb, but couldn’t pull clear before his canine teeth sank into my flesh. I expected it to hurt, but all I felt at that moment was a squeezing pressure and a thrill of animal excitement. Having survived the initial charge, it was time to show this oversized lapdog that this pony had some teeth too. And mine was a few inches longer. I bunched my shoulders and plunged the knife into the dark hide. The impact rang a bell in my noggin and I lost the grip on my weapon. With a yelp, the wolf released my arm and darted away, stepping nimbly around to my flank. I tried to follow, keeping my eyes on him, but the moment I tried to put weight on my bitten leg, it gave out and I collapsed down to one knee. Seeing his opening, the wolf leapt with a yapping growl, scrabbling onto my back. I felt his breath on my mane and I tucked my head forward to avoid the deadly bite. Instead of the delicate bones of my neck, his teeth sank into the fabric of my clothing. He pulled and worried at my blanket-coat and tore at it with frosty claws. I heard tearing, and his weight nearly made the rest of my knees buckle. But years of hard farm labor had turned my legs strong as tree trunks. I managed to keep my footing, but if I didn’t get the wolf off my back, it was only a matter of time before he overwhelmed me. Lucky for me, I had some experience with unwanted riders, and I was willing to bet that this varmint had never been to a rodeo. It wouldn’t be easy with only a single good foreleg, but if there was one thing I was good at, it was bucking. With a roar of exertion, I reared back, nearly breaking the wolf’s balance, but he managed to hold on by his grip on my garments. Before he could recover, I lurched forward and kicked hard off the ground with my hind legs.The sudden jolt stunned my canine cowpoke and catapulted him forward. Even as I hurled him over my shoulders, he wouldn’t let go of my coat and it tore a large section from my shoulders. If I’d been in a wolf-tossing competition, I wager I’d have taken the blue ribbon as the furry critter soared nearly twenty feet away and bounced off a nearby cart. He hit the ground with a whining yap, hard enough to dislodge my makeshift knife. I stood, chest heaving with my labored breathing as I watched my opponent scrabble to his paws and limp away. I didn’t take my eyes off him until he disappeared into the moonlit night. Once my body was convinced that I was alone, the adrenaline began to drain from my body and the shivers set in. I wasn’t sure if it was just the aftermath of the struggle or the chilly night air that was now pouring into my coat through the gaping hole left by the wolf’s jaws. Looking down, I also added blood loss to the list of possible causes for my tremors. Since that seemed like the more urgent possibility, I stumbled over to where my knife had fallen and used it to cut the scraps of fabric I’d found in the logging camp into improvised bandages. By the time I had them tied tightly around the wound on my foreleg, the pain was setting in. I was pretty sure those massive teeth had put a sizable notch in my leg bone. Hopefully Gray Mare was right about there being painkillers in the convenience store. The crow sounds from earlier were nearby, but it seemed they were leaving the area. It wasn’t long before they settled elsewhere though, seemingly finding another bit of carrion to hold their interest. I felt an urge to investigate what they had found, but the cold was gleefully probing the breach in my coat and I could feel it rapidly trying to work its way in to steal my warmth. I needed to get inside for a while, so I limped my way up to the store, feeling like I had just defeated Cerberus at the gates of Tartarus. A ‘CLOSED’ sign had frozen to the outside of the door and snow had piled up so high I had to dig a bit before I could get it open. Once inside, I was surprised to find it bathed in a warm firelight. Somepony had made a campfire back behind some empty shelves. It was encouraging to find I wasn’t alone, but I'd learned my lesson from bargain into Gray Mare's home and getting a wallop for my trouble. I approached the campfire cautiously. "Hello in there," I called as I came around the shelves, "I'm not here to cause any trouble, but there's a resident of this-here town who needs some supplies. Ya'll mind if I take a look around for any food that might be left?" As I spoke, I came around the corner to get a better look. I was half expecting to find I'd been talking to myself, but there was actually somepony sitting in a rickety camping chair next to the small fire. He was an older stallion, but didn't seem to have any of the frailty that I was used to seeing in my elders. His bristly coat was a dark red with a gray mane and beard that still had hints of blond highlights. Thick spectacles with a spiderweb of cracks caught the flickering firelight, obscuring the stallion’s eyes. He wore a proper winter coat over a heavy knit sweater with a peculiar compass rose embroidered on the front. There was something familiar about that sigil, but it was like the memory of a memory and I couldn't place where I knew it from. He stirred as I came closer. "Another stranger," he said in a deep, melodic voice. His tone was achingly familiar, and somehow I'd known what he would sound like before he opened his mouth. A part of me felt a deep comfort in his presence, while another part had its hackles up like a barn cat at a dog park. "Tell me, youngster," he continued, "Did you escape the town?" I stayed where I was, a few paces from the stallion’s campfire. It felt strange. The flames gave off a rich, warm light and the fragrance of burning pine, but didn't seem to produce much heat. I was torn between wanting to sit down near the flames and wanting to beeline it right out of there. "I … I just got here," I said lamely. I felt like a little school filly who didn't know the answer to a teacher's question. School filly. The image brought up a very unpleasant thought. "You … you're not talking about the burnt school are you? I reckon nopony escaped that," I said quietly. I couldn't decipher the expression he made, a sort of tensing of his face and lowering of his ears. It could have been sorrow, but without seeing his eyes, it was impossible to tell. "Hm. I reckon you're telling the truth," he replied with a nod, "A terrible tragedy." His tone struck a note deep in my heart. It wasn't mournful or upset, just a flat statement. But the way he said it seemed to weigh the words down with the full reality of what had happened. When I'd seen it with my own eyes, I didn't feel the truth of what I was looking at. I couldn't, or I probably would have gone into shock. But now, with some distance from the discovery, I was starting to grasp the entire meaning of what I had seen. Ponies had gone into that building, thinking they would come out again. Thinking they would go home to their stacked magazines and cozy beds and waiting fireplaces. Instead, their stories came to a sudden, violent, painful, and fearful end. It was truly a Terrible Tragedy. I expected to feel sick, like after my encounter with the frozen engineer. Instead, I felt a deep, echoing sadness, like a scream of anguish in an enormous cavern. I closed my eyes against a well of tears. "You can cry," the mysterious stallion said with a firm but gentle insistence. I shook my head with a sniff. A few tears rolled down my cheek, but I didn't feel any sobs in my chest. Instead, I found myself taking a deep sigh and plopping down on my haunches. "Do you know what happened?" I asked, surprised at the steadiness of my voice. "I'm afraid I know about as much as you do," he said, "But I suspect you may know more than you think?" I nodded. I'd been trying not to think about it. The scale of the pain and terror was just too much to process on top of everything else. But this stranger had a talent for drawing out what I knew to be the honest truth. "I talked to another resident. A mare who lives over by the school. She said she heard voices. And that other ponies had been there. Bad ones. The sort who threaten and make demands," I paused, not wanting to give the answer I knew was correct. "That school didn't burn down by accident. Somepony lit the fire. And whoever it was knew there were ponies inside." My voice broke on those words. I knew that bad ponies existed. Ponies who lied, stole, even killed. But crime was so rare in Equestria, I'd been mercifully insulated from such unpleasantness all my life. I couldn't understand it. "Why would anypony do that?" I said, trembling. "Not everyone lives an easy life," came the stallion’s musical voice. "Violence comes naturally in hard circumstances." "I don't think I could ever be that violent," I said. "Oh? What about with that wolf you met outside?" "That – that was different," I said, startled that he knew about my struggle with the vicious canine. It must have been louder than I thought. "I was fighting for my life. And I didn't even kill him." "Oh? So you spared him?" "Well … no," I said, beginning to feel a little frustrated. "My knife just didn't … go deep enough." I deflated under the glare of his gleaming spectacles, now feeling like a filly who was caught in a fib. "It's not the same as burning a whole town of ponies alive!" I protested, angry that this stranger was comparing my actions to such a monstrous crime. After a moment, he inclined his head. "No, I suppose it is not," he said, poking at the fire with a small tree branch. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I said, "I've had a rough few days. And I thought I'd find some help here, but instead it's the scene of a … of a murder. A massacre. And the emptiness here. It feels unnatural. Scary." The old stallion nodded, stroking his beard. "No place is ever so quiet as one that didn't expect to become abandoned." I stared into the fire and drew my knees up, wrapping my forelegs around them. "I don't know how you can be so calm about all this." "Well when you've been around as long as I have, big changes stop seeming so big." "I suppose. Seems like this island has seen more than its share of big changes. Have you lived here long?" "Ah, no," he said with a slight chuckle, "This is not my home. I'm just a passing traveler, come to witness the end after the end." I couldn't begin to understand what he meant by that. An end after an end? That was like exploding, then exploding again. Just doesn't happen. The wary part of me was frantically trying to get my attention, like a bunny thumping its foot against my hoof. "You mean you're not from here?" I asked slowly, trying not to sound accusatory, "Just who are you? You seem … like I should know you." "Oh, I'm nopony," he replied with a slight drawl, "but you can call me Fidelius." The name seemed fitting, but I couldn't tell you why. He still didn't feel quite right to me. Once when I was very young, before I had even gotten my cutie mark, I'd run away from home to try for a new life with my Aunt and Uncle Orange. They were high class ponies, real movers and shakers in their home city of Manehattan. I'd gotten the fool notion in my head that they could give me a more successful, more important life, but from the moment I got there I was missing my folks back in Ponyville. For a while, I was torn in two, one half of me wanting to rush back home, and the other feeling like I couldn't show my face there without sacrificing my pride. I wasn't able to bring myself to leave Manehattan until I got a truly spectacular sign in the form of a rainbow pointing back home. Later I'd learn that it had been Rainbow Dash herself who'd created that glorious display, and the event took on a whole new significance. But before that display of near divine intervention, I’d felt stuck in Manehattan. Like there was something keeping me from leaving even though I desperately wanted to. That was kind of how I felt about this Fidelius. I wanted to trust him, but it was like I'd already made the decision not to. But there was tension to that reluctance, like at any moment the sky would explode in another sonic rainboom and Fidelius would suddenly make sense. Only this time, I wasn't sure if I’d be learning any valuable lessons. I decided I wouldn't spend any more time with this stallion than I had to. Just one more question. "Alright, Fidelius. My name's Applejack. I guess you've probably figured out that I’m not from here either. I came here with a friend, but we got separated. Have you seen a lavender unicorn in the past few days?" He shook his head. "I only arrived recently. I'm afraid I won't be much help in finding your friend. But you came here for a reason, didn't you? Supplies for the mare across town? I believe if you help her, she will send you in the right direction." "Yeah, you're probably right," I said, getting back to my feet. His answer hadn’t surprised me, and I wasn’t sure I would trust his help anyway. Better to get back to Gray Mare as soon as I could. "There's a lantern on the checkout counter," Fidelius said, pointing, "I think that might be of use to you." I nodded my thanks and set about the task that had originally brought me to the store. Fidelius was right about the lantern. Even with the firelight, it was difficult to see in the shadowy edges of the store. But with the old, hissing storm lamp hung on my saddlebag, I could see nearly the entire room. The first thing I found was some extra fuel for the lamp, also on the counter. It was being used as a paper weight for a scrawled note. One word on the paper caught my eye: ‘wolves.’ I lifted my lamp to the counter so I could read the forgotten message. ‘Merriweather said she spotted wolves right by the post office yesterday. It’s the third report of a sighting this week. I don’t know why they’re coming so far into town recently, but I’m starting to think we might need some way to drive them off if they don’t move on soon. My dad used to talk about using road flares to keep wolves away from his dog on sledding expeditions. It might be worth putting in an order for a few crates of flares for the store. I know I’d feel better taking the dog for a walk in the evening if I had some way of scaring off those critters without having to use my revolver.’ I left the note on the counter, mentally adding road flares to my shopping list and ventured onto the main floor. It was clear that the store had been closed for a while before the aurora. I searched the pharmacy aisle first, hoping to find medications to dull my lingering headache. I was also beginning to worry about my fresh wolf bite. The tight bandaging had staunched any bleeding, but the dressings I used were hardly sterile. Granny Smith always insisted on disinfecting even small cuts and scrapes. “Treat every wound like it’s trying to kill you,” she always said. She would have been sorely disappointed in this store’s supply of antiseptic. The shelves were completely empty. There wasn’t even a bottle of the old iodine that stung like a chemical burn. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any medical supplies at all. Only dusty, empty shelves. I left the aisle, trying to ignore the growing throb in my leg. At least there was still a bit of food left in the store. Packets of dried fruit jerky and nuts were hanging sporadically on hooks and a few cans of soup stood haphazardly on some lower shelves, but for the most part the shelves were empty. I also found a few cans of soda in the silent fridges near the back wall. It wouldn’t be much of a feast, but for a single pony, it would last at least a few days. It wasn’t enough to satisfy me though. If I left Gray Mare without enough supplies, and she didn’t make it because of me – That just wasn’t something I was going to allow. I went into the back to see if there was a store room for extra stock. There was a small adjoining room, but it looked more like an office than storage. Whoever used to work there clearly skimmed some of the merchandise though. An entire box of energy bars and a full jar of peanut butter were sitting on a desk next to a typewriter. I happily stuffed both into my saddlebag, which was starting to get awfully heavy. It still wasn't quite enough to supply Gray Mare for as long as I wanted, but it would definitely help bring her back to health, hopefully enough to remember what she knew about Twilight. "Say, Fidelius," I called, hauling my supplies back into the main storefront, "Do you think you'll need any of this food? I reckon I can find more in the houses around here, so I can spare some." There was no answer. Frowning, I wound back through the shelves to Fidelis's fire. The stallion was nowhere to be seen and his campfire was nearly burnt down to embers. Now that he was gone and I had a proper light source, I spotted one more treasure hanging up on the wall behind the spot he had sat. A heavy knit sweater. I knew the garment must have been there for days at least, what with all the dust clinging to its wool yarn, but it almost felt as if Fidelius had left it as a gift. I shook my head at the thought and donned the sweater. With my improvised coat in tatters, the extra warmth might keep me from getting hypothermia on my way back to Gray Mare's house. It was certainly going to take me longer to make my return trip with all the added weight of the supplies I'd scavenged. And as it turned out, it would take even longer than I thought, because the moment I stepped outside I was greeted with a snarling growl. A wolf. Whether it was the same one I fought earlier, I couldn't tell because he was still a good distance away. Far enough I might be able to make a run for it. Only problem was that he was on the road, in the same direction I needed to go. I considered going around, but the agile carnivore was sure to intercept me. If there had been any road flares in the store, I could have used one to scare him off, but if the store pony had taken their friend’s advice, his stock must have already sold out and I'd had to leave without any new defenses. It was still just me and my knife. At the moment, it looked like he hadn't seen me, but he was sniffing the air and stalking in my direction. My best bet was to head down the road away from him and see if there was another route to double back. I set out as fast and as quiet as I could. The road soon led me out of town. There was nothing but an open field to my right and a steep hill to my left. The deep snow of the field would slow me down, but it might be my only option to get around the beast that was stalking me. Glancing over my shoulder I could still see the distant form of the wolf prowling along behind me. He must have caught my scent. My pace kept me ahead of him, but I was starting to get tired and the cold was beginning to work its greedy claws until me. If I didn't find another way back soon, I'd have to risk the snowy field. Up ahead, I could see that the road disappeared into a tunnel through the hills. If I was lucky, the road might curve back around on the other side. Sadly, I was unlucky, and instead of an alternate route, the tunnel was a dead end. A rock slide had blocked the entrance and crushed the front half of a bus that was even less lucky than I was. I could hear the wolf approaching. The rear door of the bus was open, and it looked like there was enough room for me inside. I considered the field. If I went trudging through there, I'd be slower than a foal pushing one of the big plows on Winter Wrap Up day. I'd be caught, and fighting in the snow with a full pack of supplies was a losing proposition. If I couldn't get through the bus, at least I'd be able to prepare myself to take on the predator. I climbed inside and swung the door shut behind me. I huddled there for a minute, trying to ignore the biting cold of the metal floor on my rump. The cabin soon filled with the fog of my own breath, obscuring my view through the frosty window. I slipped my saddlebags off, carefully pushing them against one wall and retrieving my little shard of a knife. The crude implement was beginning to feel too familiar between my teeth, and no more comfortable than the first time I tried to wrench it out of my hoof. I had to hold my chapped lips in a frozen grimace to keep them from freezing to the cold metal. After another minute of waiting, I spat out the oversized toothpick. “That fleabag is certainly taking his sweet time,” I muttered, rubbing my aching jaw. I winced at a sharp spike of pain in my leg. The bite I’d suffered in my first struggle was beginning to swell. I scowled. Another tussle with a wolf would probably leave me looking like a puppy’s chew toy. I could probably salvage more cloth for bandages from my ruined blanket, but without any way to disinfect the wounds, I might as well just let them bleed. I curled in on myself, trying to huddle as deep into my new sweater as I could. The brisk hike from the store with my heavy pack had thoroughly exhausted me. I leaned my head on my saddlebag, letting my eyelids droop. I knew this was no place to let sleep catch me unawares, but I couldn’t help but relax for a short rest, letting my mind wander from the darkness and danger into memories of a brighter, warmer place. * * * * * I remembered home and the feeling of relief after a long absence. I remembered the time I almost left Ponyville for good. It was a terrible choice, made for a silly reason. At the time it seemed like my only option, but in the end my friends set me straight and brought me home. But one friend in particular wound up teaching me an extra lesson that day. “Oh, uh. Applejack?” I turned to Twilight’s voice as we were leaving the train platform. She was looking down the track with a nervous expression. She was watching a hand car pull into the station carrying some familiar ponies. A disheveled Rarity hopped off and stalked past us muttering something about doing something uncomfortable to Rainbow Dash. The other pony was a frosting-pink earth pony with a cotton candy mane. “She was pretty mad when you broke your Pinkie Promise. You might want to start thinking of how to apologize.” I frowned. Pinkie Pie was a singular pony. She was probably the silliest pony I knew, constantly joking around, even in the direst circumstances. Even when she was being genuine, she would overact and ham up her reactions to a commercial degree. It was always hard to tell when she was really being serious. But promises were something she never joked about. When you made Pinkie a promise, especially a Pinkie Promise, you best keep it. "Heeeey Applejack!" She called merrily. For a moment, her cheerful demeanor made me think she'd forgotten about the promise I'd broken. But I knew Pinkie Pie. She was excitable as a bucket of weasels and grasshoppers. You never knew quite how she'd act on any given day, and it was impossible to tell what was going on under her frizzy mane, sometimes literally. There was only one constant when it came to Pinkie. She was always thinking of her friends. Whether she was planning a surprise, thinking of a gift, or even worrying about their opinions of her, the ponies she loved were always in the neon spotlight of her thoughts. Her friendship seemed so intense when I first met her, it was almost intimidating, but I quickly came to see that it was fragile too. I saw that now, in her blue eyes. Her eyes held the echo of the one time she lost faith in her friends. The one time she thought we had discarded her friendship. When Pinkie lost faith in her friends, she was barely even Pinkie Pie at all. For now, she was smiling, but I could tell that something had shaken her. And I knew it was my fault. "Are you ready to give me a real apology?" She said. "O' course, Pinkie. I never should've run off to Dodge Junction, and I should have told you that I didn't win the prize money from the rodeo, like I said I would. And I'm powerful sorry I broke a Pinkie Promise to try and cover it all up. I feel right terrible about it." I must have said the right thing, cause I could practically watch Pinkie's mane inflating like a balloon. It was a beautiful sight. Most folk took Pinkie's friendship for granted. It was understandable seeing as she offered it to just about everyone she ever met. But for me, and for the rest of her closest friends, our relationship was like a budding tree. If you nurtured and maintained it, it would grow strong. And when it bloomed, the joy that radiated from her was better than any of the parties or sweets that Pinkie loved to share. And sometimes, she even surprised you by revealing something you didn't even know about yourself. "Whew!" The pink pony exclaimed, making a show of wiping her brow, "I was really worried for you there. You haven't been that dishonest since Discord turned you into Anti-Applejack." Huh? I knew I'd broken a Pinkie Promise. I'd told her that I would explain everything about why I'd run away "at breakfast", but then I'd simply skipped our next breakfast. Since Pinkie didn't know I was planning on running away again, it seemed to her like I'd gone back on my word. "Well, I dunno if I'd say it was that dishonest. Technically what I said was true." "Duh!" Pinkie groaned, sticking out her tongue, "And technically true is the WORST kind of true. It's the kind of true that makes ponies believe things that aren't true. Telling a lie is bad, but using the truth to trick your friends? That's like inviting somepony to a party just to make fun of them. It's just … just wrong." I was stunned. She was right, of course. I had abused my trustworthy nature to fool the ponies who cared most about me. It was a perversion of honesty, an insult to the Element of Harmony that I was supposed to represent. "Well heck, I hadn't thought of it that way. I'm sorry, Pinkie. That was a terrible thing to do to my friends. I swear I'll never use the truth to tell a lie ever again. And that's a Pinkie Promise!" My eccentric friend beamed, instantly melting away my lingering guilt and replacing it with a comforting resolve. "Apology accepted!" she shouted with a gleeful bounce for emphasis. "Applejack! Are you coming?" It was Twilight’s voice, drifting from the distance. I turned looking to see where she was, but the town was deserted. Just like Fillyton. A spike of fear shot through me and I whirled to grab hold of Pinkie Pie, but where my friend had stood a moment ago, a wolf was crouching, his snarling jaws ready to tear the flesh from my bones. I staggered back as he lunged, his fangs closing on my throat, ensuring I would never tell another lie again. * * * * * My eyes shot open. It felt like waking from a dream, but I knew I hadn't been all the way asleep. I had kept just enough consciousness to be aware of my environment. A flicker of movement outside the bus's rear window had drawn my attention. The wolf had finally arrived, yellow eyes glowing with reflected moonlight. My body tried to summon the adrenaline rush from my first fight and I scrambled for my knife. As I groped for the slippery tool, my nose bumped into something that I hadn’t seen in the darkness, a small cylinder that rolled away from my touch to bump against the wall. I squinted at it in the darkness, making out the shape of a road flare. With a smile, I left my weapon where it lay and reached for the little, red device instead. “Alright you mangy, overgrown poodle! Let’s see how you like this!” I shouted, slamming open the door and striking the flare. It roared to life with a chemical hiss and an eruption of red sparks. It was like I was in an old projector movie, only instead of grayscale, the world was rendered in black and red. The motion of the wolf became jerky and flickering in the sputter of flare-light and I caught a clear glimpse of the surprise on his face as he skittered backwards. Seeing the deadly predator falling back gave me a surge of courage and I bellowed a challenge as I leapt from the bus. It was too much for the wolf. He turned tail and scampered into the darkness with a startled whine. I listened to his retreating footsteps until all I could hear was the spitting of the flare. "And don't you come back!" I hollered into the night, dropping the flare at my hooves. With a snort I returned to the bus to retrieve my bags and knife. That's when I saw the message. I’d missed it in the dark, but with the flare illuminating the interior, I could clearly make out the letters scrawled on the wall. And it looked like they were addressed to me. 'AJ - DEFIANCE' "What in sam hill…" I muttered, reading the word a few times. I looked around the interior of the vehicle, trying to find anything that might provide some context to the cryptic message. All I could see at first was the rocky debris of the cave-in that had buried the bus. I unhooked my new lantern from my saddlebags, lighting it. In the steady, white light I caught a glimpse of a familiar color amidst the gravel. Twilight’s scarf. With a burst of terror, I dropped the lantern and began digging at the rockslide, but after heaving a few chunks of stone out of the way, it was apparent that there was no neck to go with the scarf. It looked like the garment had been snagged and pulled off. There was a narrow gap in the rock pile through which I could just see the front section of the bus. There was no other sign of my friend. She must have squeezed through just before the roof gave way and dumped the rocky avalanche into the aisle. At that moment I would have given my left hind leg to be a diamond dog, with powerful, digging paws that could tunnel through after my friend. But there was too much sand and gravel for a single pony to have any chance of shifting by herself. I wavered on the edge of triumph and despair. I couldn't see any way of squeezing through the tunnel to follow Twilight. But this was still the best lead I'd found so far. My friend had come through this town, so I was on the right track. And maybe Gray Mare knew another way around the highway tunnel. I picked up my lantern and went to grab my other belongings. To my horror, the clear light revealed the wall message in a new and gruesome detail. 'AJ - DEFIANCE' The crude letters were smudged into the metal wall, standing out in a stark, bright red. Twilight had written them in blood.