"Does anypony know a way to kill water?"
The farmer, whose powerful body had momentary settled itself against a tree within the micro-clearing while Fluttershy began the orientation-checking ascent, indulged in a blink. Then she did it again. It was an entirely honest reaction, and it also bought her some time to think of a few actual words.
"Sorry, Twi?" was eventually offered up on the Altar Of Conversational Sacrifice, and waited for sharpened syllables to descend.
The little mare grumbled to herself for a few seconds.
"Water," the librarian repeated, and the slender body went through what had probably been intended as an exacting sort of moisture-shedding shake: instead, nearly everything which came off the fur went into the cloth, some of what had been bound in fabric headed for her eyes, and the half-bandaged wings seldom had any more idea of what to do with themselves than their owner. "How can we kill it?"
Applejack managed a light chuckle. "Ain't sure that's possible, Twi. Been a while since Ah had chemistry classes, but -- it's all jus' changes of state, ain't it?"
"I want to change its state," Twilight muttered. "Change it from 'exists' to 'doesn't'."
The earth pony made a minor show of ignoring that. "Ah mean, y'can turn it into steam with enough heat, but all that's gonna do is raise the humidity --"
"-- I'm not sure that's possible. We've got to be at saturation, and you can't do supersaturation in atmosphere without a pegasus. Like what that one moron tried to arrange with the library because he thought Spike was a fire hazard --"
She stopped. Her head drooped.
Applejack verbally scrambled to cover the emotional gap before the librarian fully fell in. "-- and if'fin we could lower the temperature somehow, get ice... it ain't gonna hold for long. Not around here. So unless you've got a different kind of idea..." And waited.
They both heard several small branches break overhead. Tiny pieces of wood rained down between them: some of the leaves descended with more of a drift pattern. Slightly-oversized wings tried to push through new gaps, and birds made the sort of sounds which probably worked out to 'complaint'. They were mostly presuming about the complaining. It was possible that some of it was actually cursing, but there were usually limits on how much Fluttershy was willing to translate.
Finally, the slender purple head came up a little.
"Separate it," Twilight said. "With electricity. It's mostly a party trick, but it works. Turn it back into hydrogen and oxygen."
"An' it'll probably come back together eventually," Applejack reminded her. "Most things do."
"In a few hours," the librarian argued. "If we were lucky. And if there was some way to do a lot of water at once --"
"-- with lightnin'," the earth pony checked.
"Yes!"
"When Rainbow ain't brought you that far," Applejack noted. "An' Ah don't think that's the sort of thing y'wanna be tryin' on your own jus' yet."
"It's something to do," Twilight grumbled. "Something practical. I'd think you of all ponies would appreciate it when somepony decides to put in a little extra effort --"
Casually, "-- umbrella spell still ain't workin'?"
The little mare sighed.
"No."
They were in a rain forest, and the name hadn't been given out for the sake of irony. Even when the occluded sky was temporarily clear, moisture tended to pelt down from the taller greenery: any moment of contact was going to dislodge something. And when it came to staying dry...
Actual pony umbrellas were back-mounted affairs. The base went over the center of the spine, and a carefully-cinched strap kept it there. The fabric had a considerable radius, because it had to go beyond the head, tail, and the full span of any flared wings: ideally, any water running off the top would come down well away from the actual pony. It was like moving with a single-surface tent, one which still took up a lot of room -- and it would have been effectively impossible to push that fabric through the denser portions of the forest without destroying the whole rig. Not that it mattered, because even the Princesses had potentially proven themselves subject to a simple truth: anypony packing in a hurry without benefit of checklist was going to forget something and unless the split of supplies had sent all of them to the other group, the neglected item had been umbrellas.
And Twilight was tired of being wet. (The clothing just made it worse.)
She had the option to levitate something and carry it above her body. The problem was that anything levitated was, by definition, being held in a field. And liquids acted in strange ways when they came into contact with active fields. They flowed along the outer surface in tiny rivers and odd tributaries: twisting, dividing, coming back together, and not entirely subject to gravity -- until a sufficient quantity managed to pool on the underside. And then it would start to drip. A lot, typically while aiming for her eyes.
Shields didn't function in quite the same way. A shield would stop water entirely. (Not air. Air went through a shield, but generally lost a lot of velocity along the way. A shield had to be air-permeable, because the other option was for a caster to defend themselves into unconsciousness.) They also weren't mobile. Twilight could create a shield dome, even attempt to manipulate the shape so that only the apex remained -- but it wasn't a natural shape for the spell. It didn't hold for long. It also had to be anchored to something -- tree branches were fine -- and continued to work brilliantly for the whole of its cut-down duration after the triumphant caster had trotted out from under it.
So she'd been trying something new. A hidden field, one which wasn't holding anything. An invisible, carefully-shaped slice of energy with a depression in the center. The idea was that ideally, after a lot of study regarding just how those strange streams moved, the water would wind up there. Sure, she would have to drop it almost instantly if they came within sight of a foreign sapient because that party was inevitably going to wonder why Twilight had a small lake hovering over her back, but at least she would potentially have a little time of being dry. Or, given the humidity, soaked in a somewhat more generalized way.
It was just the first stage of the experiment, of course. But it was something to do while they moved. Something to think about which wasn't... the lost.
Hiding a field usually changed the way in which the magic worked. Having the water temporarily held had been the goal. Feeling the liquid impacts from freshly-added kinetic energy had come as something of a surprise. Some of the newly-consolidated mega-drops had hit with enough force to sting...
(Twilight was trying to file the initial results under the general category of Knowledge Acquired. It wasn't necessarily knowledge which was good for anything, but at least somepony was now in the rather soaked position to make that decision personally.)
The farmer bemusedly shook her head. "Y'need water for life, Twi. Wouldn't have this much green around here without that much wet. The more water, the more life --"
"Until you drown," Twilight cut her off.
"Well," Applejack carefully said, "then you get rivers. Lakes. The ocean, eventually. That's another kind of place t' live --"
"-- I'm drowning in life," the librarian grumbled. "Plants. Leaves. Vines. All of the ground-level stuff. And you can't just push through, because we're trying not to leave too blatant of a trail. In case we get tracked by the wrong sapients." Instead of the right ones, but Twilight's group was supposed to be closing in...
"Twi," a doubled caution tried to break in.
"And if you accidentally shove one bush, eighty birds come out," the little mare stated. "Scattering in all directions, except for the ones which wouldn't go through my mane. And then they're upset, and they don't want to talk with Fluttershy until they calm down. Which somehow means doing other things, which mostly also try to wind up in my mane. Plus I swear half of what flies around here are parrots, and I can't even say how I really feel about it or we're going to start hearing echoes."
There were some avian sounds coming from overhead now. A number had been produced by a pony throat.
"Also, do you know why there's no such thing as seaponies?"
"Can't say Ah do --"
"-- because it's the stupidest idea ever." She paused. "And they all drowned."
A little more bemused now, "Twi."
The librarian stopped. Tried another fully ineffective body shake, and then sighed.
I need another distraction.
Knowing that she was trying to distract herself didn't seem to be helping.
I could look at the notes again.
A very old thought drifted up from the bottom of a long-ignored checklist.
...I could try using my trick...?
No, that was stupid. She had copies. All she'd get would be --
-- above them, small wings scattered. The larger pair began to carefully descend.
"...I'm starting to see the edge of our side," Fluttershy softly said. "For the mountain. And I got a hint of the waterfall when I moved a little more. We're getting close to where we can turn, Twilight."
Closer to them.
The little mare managed a slow exhale. "So we just have to stay on track," she said. "Go up a few more times during the day, and make sure we stay oriented."
A shapely head nodded -- but the beautiful features (for the half which could be seen) slightly contorted as the hybrid touched down.
Fluttershy took a breath. Glanced over at Applejack, turned back to Twilight, hesitated...
"...a pair of birds came back while I was up there," she finally said. "Two of the ones I'd asked to scout. They still haven't seen any ponies. But I also asked them about what was going to be ahead of us, once we made the turn. If they knew about anything dangerous, because... " Another hesitation, and then effort was channeled into the soft voice. "...we've been -- lucky, haven't we? I keep thinking that we should have found at least one monster by now. So maybe they're -- where we're going."
Where the others already are.
She tried not to shiver. Told herself that galloping forward would do no good, and calling out names when those you cared about were too far away to hear...
It's my fault.
"An' what did they say, 'Shy?" Applejack carefully asked.
"That... they don't know about that side of the mountain," the caretaker quietly replied. "And it's not a territory issue, because I made sure to ask the ones who had a lot of travel range. They just don't go there. Not near the waterfall, or anything close to the base." A little more quickly, "And they didn't say it's because there's something there which hunts them. They didn't say anything about strange sights, sounds, or odors. It doesn't feel like they're afraid. It's more like they don't want to be there."
Both mares were now looking at Twilight.
A spell? It would be easy enough to set up the resonance for avoidance --
-- well, it's easy once you know the working.
But it's a pretty large area. Nopony could really cover it with a single casting.
Which doesn't mean there might not be different emitting points set up...
...don't gallop.
Don't cry out.
We're not close enough for anypony to hear.
There were so few spells which aided in communication and once Twilight got everypony safely back to the tree, there were going to be more.
"And that's where we're all headed," she carefully reminded them, and felt so much of her remaining strength being channeled into keeping the words steadied. "So let's keep going."
The trio began to move.
We'll see them soon.
We have to.
Spike couldn't truly know how Rainbow felt about having him on her back when she went above the canopy for an orientation check. If he had to guess, then... the pegasus probably thought that he wanted a moment of temporary escape just as badly as she. Plus the humidity wasn't quite as concentrated when you got past the trees, and breathing became a little easier. (He was trying not to think too much about his own breathing.) So to that extent, she was perfectly happy to bring him with her.
Both were valid reasons for wanting to accompany Rainbow. Spike just also happened to feel that the weather coordinator would be somewhat less likely to fully give in to the claustrophobia while he was present. Making a full-speed desperate break for truly open skies was somewhat complicated by the aerodynamics-wrecking presence of a passenger.
Which assumed that a truly freaked-out Rainbow would remember that he was even there. But that was the chance he had to take.
They both looked at the waterfall, so much closer now. Her sleek body was shivering somewhat. Energy waiting to be released.
"We're not that far out," he tried to reassure her. "Maybe a few more hours. And then we can camp."
We can wait for the others to catch up.
They had to --
Rainbow squinted.
"The air's a little weird up ahead," she said.
"How?"
Cyan eyelids continued to narrow. "The flow pattern coming towards us is sort of off. The mountain is the primary interference, but it feels like there's more than that. And..."
She hesitated.
Rainbow hardly ever --
"...are you sure we should be going that way?"
Spike blinked.
"It's where we arranged to meet," he reminded her. "That's where they'll be looking for us."
"Yeah, I know," she huffed. "It just feels like maybe we might be better off going to the side a little. Away from all of the water." With unusual caution, "I don't think you need to be around too much more water."
"Rainbow --"
Immediately, with rather more of the usual directness "-- you're on my back, Spike. It's not just hearing how you're breathing: it's feeling it. How sick are you?"
They have enough to worry about.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," he tried to tell her. "And being up here helps."
The answering nod felt like a rather reluctant specimen. "...yeah. Too bad we've gotta go back down --" and squinted again. "-- and now that's weird."
He automatically tried to spot what she was looking at, and saw nothing at all. "What is?" It was probably a factor which was only visible through pegasus sight.
"I thought I saw a couple of sparkles. Like spell sparkles. In the air. Close to the waterfall."
Twilight? If the other group had somehow found a way to get ahead...
Spike immediately leaned forward. Squinted...
...nothing.
He sighed. Why would Twilight even be projecting her field into the sky, anyway? "It's probably just sunlight going through the water spray at a weird angle."
"Best. Eyesight," Rainbow instantly shot back. "I know what prism effects look like." Her tail came up, arced and tickled his spinal crests. "I'm a prismatic. That was a sparkle."
"Reflections from the cave?"
She thought about that.
"...maybe," Rainbow decided. "If it hit the water spray in just the right way, I guess. But it looked like a spell sparkle."
He was still squinting, and he couldn't see it. No tiny motes of light, let alone any unusual surrounding hues. Just normal sky, water, and rock.
They still stayed above the canopy for an extra three minutes, searching for other signs. But it was impossible to spot anything at ground level, and the sky was simply the sky.
A few hours out. Just a few more hours, and they could stop. Wait for friends and family. For that joyous moment of reunion, when he could just rush forward and bury his face in the soft fur of Twilight's flank...
(He had to be careful not to push too tightly, because that was when it started to feel like his scales were rubbing directly against her ribs. Plus these days, he needed to stay clear of the wings. Spike didn't know what to do with the wings during hugs, and Twilight didn't either.)
Just a few hours of moving along. That was all it should have been.
The problems started within the first five minutes.
Rainbow kept arguing for Spike to choose and relay the location of another place where they could all meet. Something which would be clearly better for his health than camping out near a waterfall.
Pinkie had taken the lead, and... she was veering off to the right. Slowly, subtly, to the point where it took some time to see the true change in her course -- but they had to correct her. Over and over.
Rarity was slowing up. Each hoofstep was performed under the pressure of increasing reluctance, as stained legs just barely pushed forward.
There were more of those odd-smelling patches of milky quartz. Spike was avoiding them on instinct now, never allowing himself to get closer than five body lengths because that was where the stink got really bad. It wasn't the most promising sign for the local gem quality, and his body was still demanding opals.
And Trixie...
"I feel something," she tried to say for the third time from her position at the rear of the group. (Very nearly outside the miniherd entirely, barely a part of anything at all.) Her head kept moving back and forth, as if the horn was testing the air. "I can't pin it down, but I'm feeling --"
"-- and your education has neglected the true definition of a monster," Rarity snapped. "Which would be something that cannot care. I'm sure you are capable of feeling many things. 'Inadequate' has been proven. 'Common sense', however, would be less of a feeling and more of a forbidden condition. And I am still not prepared to believe anything which claims to come from the regret family."
Trixie shut up.
...maybe we should steer to the right.
My chest feels tight, and we're heading towards more water.
I can risk a scroll. Arrange another meeting point. They'll be able to find us.
Maybe...
...no. It was possible that Twilight's group wouldn't be in a position to change course, and the Princesses were expecting them to all try for the waterfall. They had to stick with the original plan.
We have to...
It was becoming harder to move. The vegetation was thickening, and Pinkie's larger form was having trouble scouting. Rarity, who possessed a smaller build, took the reluctant lead. More stains accrued.
...maybe we could divert, just enough to find a place to slip through --
The sounds of hooves fighting to push through the ground vegetation intensified: little slips of position leading to keratin clicking against wet pebbles. And it felt as if the air was acquiring density, they were all fighting to move forward, to move, to go off to the side would clearly be so much easier, and Spike was slipping towards the back, Rainbow passed him, then Pinkie, he had just about lost enough ground to bring him parallel with Trixie, they were all starting to enter a relative clearing, fully shaded from the sky while still being one of the largest hollows they'd found in the forest and they could barely move, there had to be another way through or around or just to leave, they could just send a scroll to Twilight, have both groups send up the evacuation signal from sight-shielded areas, reunite and start over from Canterlot and just leave --
-- it was, in many ways, the sort of noise you only truly heard at the moment when it stopped.
There was a moment when the song of avoidance within his head ceased. The instant when a Gifted School education first started to recognize that it had likely been imposed, and it was a slice of time during which too much else happened.
The song ended, and the atmosphere loosened. He took a single normal step.
Up ahead of him, there was the sound of hooves pushing through a rain forest. Ponies trotting as they should, if only for that instant.
Then his auditory spines perked. All around him, pony ears went up, strained forward. Because there were hooves in the rain forest, they'd been hearing their own hooves for days, and now there were more hooves. And it might not have been other ponies because there were so many ungulate species in the world, but the movements were regular and controlled and coming towards them, there were multiple creatures moving and if they were sapient, if they were friends and family --
-- there were hooves in the rain forest. Coming directly towards them.
Reunion would have meant three sets.
This was closer to twelve --
-- there was no time to discuss anything. They were in a relative clearing, and the vegetation density of everything around it would have given Rainbow issues in evacuating quickly. No chance to run or plan when it was all so very close and coming closer still. Spike began to spot hints of brighter colors beyond the clearing's border, hues on the approach, it was all almost right on top of them and he could see the Bearers, their gazes starting to seek each other out, trying to send thoughts through the air when nopony truly knew what to do --
-- and then Trixie did the first thing she thought of.
There was no grey-tinged light. Her horn remained dark throughout. But something invisible seized Spike's body, lifted it, scales and crests tingled as he was pulled backwards and up, walking claws parting from the ground, humid air flowing past his nostrils as the ascent angle increased --
-- the hidden field deposited him among a thick, concealing copse of branches and leaves, about three times his own height above the ground. Vegetation blocked his line of sight for a moment, and walking claws stumbled to find fresh purchase on wood. His body tilted forward, and he grabbed for the thicker extensions, felt his scales contact bark --
-- light appeared in front of him, just for a second. Trixie's corona hue. And then the patch of illumination twisted, thinned, and shaped itself into a single word.
Communication.
The light winked out.
He stared. Got ready to scramble down --
-- and then the other ponies stepped out of the treeline.
And for everything which happened next, he could only watch.
Everything would have been different if he'd moved. Dropped down. Perhaps, in the fantasies which took some time to fully arrive, aimed directly at the mare in the center and breathed.
Fire in the forest. A constant risk. But it would have been a chance...
...a chance which would have failed.
He would have had no reason to try it. None at all.
And yet, in his dreams...
There were actually thirteen of them and in reality, it only would have taken one. The other twelve were just present for appearances, and what ultimately worked out to be a much lesser show of force.
When it came to watching over the others... with Twilight so far away, Spike's most natural attunement was to initially check on Rarity. Something which meant that he saw her reaction as the bulk of the ponies came out of the treeline, because her attention was immediately drawn to their clothing.
Twelve were dressed. Even within the heat and seemingly-perpetual humidity of the rain forest, they were almost fully dressed. The mares had skirts which went all the way back to the dock before arcing over the tail, while the stallions had been caught in pants. And a little dragon who visited the Boutique just about as often as he could get away with was going to pick up rather more than the fundamentals.
The outfits were somewhat green-stained, because those ponies had been pushing through vegetation for some time. They were also... basic.
Rarity had said it once, and done so with a laugh: that in essence, all clothing was just stitched-together tubing, and a key part of her job was in making sure that nopony truly thought about that. And it was impossible to look at these designs and think about anything else.
It wasn't as bad as what had come from Applejack's creations during the mark switch, because there were ways in which it was worse. Applejack had possessed something very close to an anti-talent for design, which had regretfully been paired with a near-magnetic attraction to canvas -- but the farmer had been trying. She'd been pouring her heart into every last error. She had bled mistakes. The ability hadn't been there: the drive had. And with that which the dozen wore... stitched-together tubes. You found a pattern, you followed the pattern, and you didn't think very much about exactly what was going into it. Color balance, minor acts of flair, personal touches... all absent. There were instructions and when the last one was rattled through a running stitch, the process was clearly over.
The dozen didn't exactly wear the results. There was cloth, and there was a pony under it. The actual look was closer to moving drapery, only with mandatory buttons.
There were four pegasi, and their wings didn't seem to sit properly in the rest position. The unicorns had their heads tilted a little too far forward, as if unsure how to bear a foreign weight. All of the earth ponies came to a full stop, and every ear was just about flat against the skull.
And then the thirteenth pony emerged. Stepping through a precise gap in the line, as if she'd been waiting for the others to finish granting her the ideal corridor.
She came to an exacting stop. Everything stopped moving at the same time, and it was possible to watch the entire process because she was only wearing a pair of small, plain saddlebags.
The blue eyes were the first things to start up again. The calm intensity of her gaze switched its focus from one intruding mare to another, and it was almost as if he could spot fur rippling under all of the heavily-stained cloth --
-- she reached Trixie and, in doing so, nearly skimmed past Spike.
Handling claws almost loosened their grip. He snatched at the wood, pulled in air, tried to keep his head down...
How to describe her? He would wind up making a few attempts, while never quite feeling as if he'd managed the vehemence of it. Because he was a dragon who'd grown up among ponies, had learned their expressions and postures until everything around him became natural and his own form was the last foreign thing. He understood ponies, and so a deep instinct recognized that something was wrong.
On the most basic level... a unicorn mare. But to look any closer...
She wasn't large. For height, she was about halfway between Rarity and Rainbow. Her build was that of a pony who broke up extended periods of stillness with intermittent-but-dedicated trotting. The torso lacked visible strength, but something about the hips and shoulders suggested a mare who was ready to push forward for a very long time.
The coat was lilac, and it was entirely clean. There wasn't a single chlorophyll stain on any visible strand. (It was possible to feel Rarity's envy, and Spike almost suspected the first words in any exchange would be to ask about any dirt-repelling spell effects.) Some grooming was present, mostly to make sure that the natural grain was being rigorously followed. As for the mane... that made him think of Twilight's most natural tendencies. In both cases, it was a style which existed because the mane did, and it clearly had to be put out of the way. This one had created an elevated lump of curving bundle just behind the horn, then let the rest fall off to one side. One minute in front of a mirror to arrange it every morning and after the first few moons, you could skip the mirror.
There was a narrow teal streak within the purple, and it had been told to fend for itself.
The tail... it took some time to spot what was wrong with the tail. It didn't sway properly. There were almost no small twitches, and those which did appear were always slightly mistimed. It was a tail which received its orders on delay.
Her mark was a pair of superimposed diamonds. Two curls of something very much like stylized steam were coming off the points.
And her face...
...he couldn't figure out how old she was. Spike tried to force his attention onto her snout, then checked around the eyes for lines in the fur (while trying not to make actual eye contact), and... nothing seemed to be fixed. He would feel as if he'd spotted a small crease, and then something about it would blur. She could have been Rarity's age, or two decades older. She might have graduated secondary school a mere six moons ago. And he was sure she wasn't using cosmetics, because you couldn't hang around the Boutique and not eventually wind up holding a full assortment of powders until the owner was ready to apply them -- but something about the lilac mare's features refused to be pinned to a calendar.
It was possible to watch her think, especially since she did very little else. She looked over the group again, as the ponies who'd accompanied her stood silent. And the power of that gaze didn't so much move as flicker. It was in one place, and then it went to another. It was a gaze which existed without transitive states.
She seldom looked at anypony. Towards was more common. After that first examination, she was mostly regarding the places where mares happened to be.
But she did focus, now and again. She was looking over Rarity, and Spike belatedly realized that nopony had ever applied any fur dye: plant-staining wasn't the best substitute. Then her attention flickered to Trixie, the only one who wasn't dressed. And when she did focus...
Fluttershy had a Stare. This pony possessed a mobile knife. It was an evaluation with an edge, and he felt as if it stood ready to slice away anything it didn't like.
Everything about her was perfectly normal, and remained so for periods of up to five seconds. Or until you truly looked. Watched as she thought, because... that was what she did. She thought.
A smile arrived on the lilac mare's face.
It would take some time for Spike to fully realize that. Pinkie... she seemed to have spotted it immediately, or simply knew it on the level of instinct and mark. It was something which made the baker pull back slightly, as the curly tail was forced to freeze in mid-lash. That the smile had arrived, because the mare had decided the time was right for it to be there.
And then she spoke.
There was no accent to her words. There was also very little in the way of rhythm. There were times when it was almost possible to hear syllables being slotted into place, but... she mostly gave off the impression of somepony who'd been swapped into a play at the last minute. She didn't know what the lines were supposed to be, and it meant the sentences were being read from a prompt box somewhere behind the clearing.
"Welcome," the lilac mare said, and nothing about the word reached the rest of her body. "I'm so pleased to have you here."
The other twelve ponies -- smiled.
"Welcome!" the herd declared, and did so with a light sway of tails and near-coordinated stomp of hooves.
The group version of the expression was more sincere. It was also slightly too wide, and Spike caught a few of them looking at each other. As if they were checking to see if a given pony was smiling properly.
Pinkie pulled back a little more. Just enough to see. And the baker was... silent.
Rainbow was hovering just above the tallest ground plants, and -- she hadn't charged in. There hadn't been a single brash demand for anypony to explain what they were doing here and, while they were at it, own up. It wasn't a combat situation and for now, the pegasus was letting the others take the lead.
Trixie hadn't moved.
Rarity inhaled.
It was easy for Spike to recognize her initial expression, because he'd seen variants before. It could be described as If There Is Any Benefit To Applejack Not Being Here, It Is Because I Am About To Lie My Own Tail Curls Straight And Nopony Needs To Watch Her Pretending Not To Cringe.
"We were hardly expecting to see other ponies here," Rarity smiled. "Let alone such welcoming ones."
The lilac mare's ears took in the words. Processed them.
"And yet you have."
There had been an initial choice of two cover stories. 'Performing troupe' seemed to be out.
"We are explorers," Rarity offered. (It was possible that even Applejack might have supported that, on technicality.)
"Well..." The lilac mare hesitated, and the next words seemed to push their way through verbal undertow. "...you've certainly found something."
The rest of the herd was silent. Letting the leader do all of the work.
Rarity smiled a little more.
"My name is Faceti," the designer said. "A geologist. Seeking out rare gems in distant lands --"
The unicorn's horn ignited. Turquoise light, of a familiar and exacting shade, flowed up to the tip. Spike's handling claws gouged shallow channels in the bark.
Her corona moved backwards, opened the left saddlebag, delved within, then brought out an inkwell and quill. Two more breaths extracted a notebook.
The notebook was old. It was a very dark brown, which went a long way towards concealing most of the stains. The corners of both covers had been rounded into nothingness. The spine had been heavily reinforced, to the point where it creaked slightly upon opening. It was oddly difficult to pin down just how thick it was.
The inkwell opened itself. A fresh quill was dipped.
"Faceti," the caster repeated as she wrote it down, allowing the quill to move freely while she failed to look at the page. "Geologist. Gemologist, technically, if you've specialized that far."
"Well, yes," Rarity readily agreed. "Most ponies just don't know the term. I'm surprised when anypony does --"
"-- I study," the mare unevenly cut in.
"Clearly." The designer nodded towards Pinkie. "And this is --"
"-- there are priorities other than names," the lilac mare said, and those words had been -- smooth. "Even for -- explorers, yes? -- this is a wild zone. A foreign one. And you all look as if you would benefit from a place of safety." The blue eyes flickered across Rarity again. "I'm sure you'd like a chance to wash up, at the very least. Rest. Recover."
There was something tight about Pinkie's entire body. But Rainbow was letting Rarity lead, and Trixie -- didn't have a role. A place.
"Because you've found something better than just a few ponies in the rain forest," said the leader, and something about the next words felt as if they'd been held against a lathe.
The smile appeared again, and fixed itself into place.
"You've found a community," the lilac mare told them. Her tail unevenly swayed.
One of the male earth ponies stepped forward.
"Welcome," he sincerely declared. "We're happy to have you!"
"We're happy we found you," added a pegasus mare. "Imagine the luck!"
"We do hope you'll stay," the smallest unicorn stallion chimed in. "It's been a while since our last new friends, and -- explorers! You must have stories to tell!"
"Lots!" Rainbow finally spoke up. "You can't imagine half of them! And you might not believe the rest!"
"So..." And the hesitant tones had come from Pinkie. "...are we going with them?"
Rarity tossed off a casual lie of a shrug.
"We've certainly found something," she declared. "I would call it our job as explorers to quantify exactly what it is. To do any less would be..." And paused, searching for the proper words.
"Bad science?" the lilac mare suggested.
"Yes," the designer agreed. "And of course, a proper bath would be lovely. Along with an exchange of stories."
The unicorn leader visibly thought about that.
"More of a Pundamilia Makazi tradition," she eventually said.
"Yes..." Rarity tried. "But I'm sure there's quite the tale in why a community of ponies is here!"
The lilac mare eventually nodded.
"Yes."
And that was all. Simple, toneless agreement, while a dozen other ponies stood silent.
Rarity turned her head, glanced back. Checking on the others, making sure they were with her on this. Found extremely tentative agreement from Pinkie, a quick nod from Rainbow, just about skipped over Trixie --
-- it was possible for Spike to spot the exact moment when she realized he wasn't there.
Stained ears flicked back. Her spine tightened. Portions of her ruined clothing went out of alignment.
A little too loudly, "You are all with me on this, I trust?"
Trixie took one hoofstep forward.
"Unless you want to double back and look for that one alexandrite sample," she said. "The one which I'm still sure is in your saddlebags." Confidently, "It'll turn up."
Alexandrite.
Green and purple.
Too many expressions passed across the designer's face, in the moment when she was still looking away from the herd. Most of them registered as fear. Anger was about a hoofstep behind.
"...yes," Rarity tightly said. "I'm sure it will." And had the warm smile on her face before she turned back. "Forward, then!"
The lilac mare moved, completing her turn in stages. The herd waited until she was finished before following in near-lockstep. The Bearers started to move, collectively trailed for a while, and then Rarity managed a small surge forward. Catching up with the leader.
"May I compliment how clean you are?"
There was a pause.
"You just did."
"...yes. Rather. Is that protection the result of a spell?"
Eventually, "Yes."
"Lovely! And if we stay long enough -- might I ask for a bit of tutoring? I know I might not be able to learn it, but I would appreciate the mere opportunity."
This pause was longer.
"We'll have to see," the lilac mare finally said. "About -- everything."
"When it's time, then," Rarity pleasantly agreed. "But for now -- you have my name. Might we know yours?"
Communication.
Spike understood, as he watched them being led away. And he hated himself for it.
There was something in the group's supplies which was meant to conceal his nature. In the best case, it was currently with Fluttershy. And if there were two sure identifiers for those who knew more than the usual near-nothing about the Bearers, the one which wasn't 'newest alicorn' was 'occasionally travel with a dragon'. He had been the surest giveaway.
And it was more than that.
There were other ponies in the rain forest. It was entirely possible that somepony in this herd was responsible for the lockdown spell. He might have just seen her. And if the Bearers were being taken inside it, with Trixie in tow...
He wanted to protect them. Longed for anything he could do to keep them safe. But... Twilight's miniherd had to know. Had to be told what had happened. The same was true for the palace. And Spike couldn't send a scroll from inside the lockdown's radius. He could potentially try to trail for a time once they were far enough ahead to not hear his movements, figure out where they were going -- but he would have to stop if he saw any signs of a lockdown, shield, or any other blocking effect. He couldn't be taken within.
The best way to currently help was through relaying information. He knew that. And he wanted to jump down, to move and charge and protect.
(He was a dragon.)
(They were his family.)
(His.)
Every little muscle shivered. He felt the inner fire rising within, almost begging for release. And yet he stayed just where he was.
It could still be a medical colony. Isolating the ponies affected by the disease. There might even be ponies we know in there. Ponies we've been looking for. And if that's what's happening, then it's wrong to attack...
He strained to listen, because he needed to tell the others exactly what had taken place. Every last word.
But he only heard twelve more.
"My name is Starlight," the lilac mare calmly stated. "You should think of me as a friend."