There was a certain visceral pleasure in watching water die.
Witnessing it was also somewhat surreal.
Viewing the process against the backdrop of the tepui and a fast-setting Sun wasn't exactly helping.
...all right: so the water wasn't truly perishing. Just for starters, it was rather difficult to kill something which wasn't actually alive. And when it came to a substance so basic... well, as Twilight had recently been reminded, most of what could be done was to change its state. Even separation into component elements (all two of them) left the remnants in a condition where they could reunite again -- and it had taken her a little too long to remember that even if she'd somehow managed the feat, it would have just provided her with a lot of hydrogen. All of which was now in the presence of an electric spark, and additionally had plenty of oxygen to feed the flame.
In the most basic sense, you couldn't really kill water. But you could change its state and ideally, do so while encouraging it to relocate. So once they'd found Spike...
It hadn't taken long for Twilight to realize the illness was a humidity reaction: she'd suspected something along those lines before getting her first good look. Spike had been through some prior, lesser versions, because he lived well outside his ideal environment. And there had also been that idiot bureaucrat who'd essentially been trying to chase a perceived living fire hazard out of the library, arranging for the tree's interior atmosphere to be supersaturated accordingly. The siblings had gotten it resolved just in time to prevent any damage to the books and, rather more importantly, their respiratory systems -- mutual, because it wasn't exactly a good place for ponies to occupy long-term either -- but she'd already been dreading the moment when Spike's breathing turned coarse and wet.
It was a humidity reaction. And so the first thing she'd asked him (after the apologies and tears had finally died down) was what he most wanted to eat. Because she seldom knew what to do when her younger sibling became sick -- but his body possessed certain instincts, and would often try to direct him towards a cure on its own.
Cachalong opals. And in Equestria, those were scarce: just about any specimen found within the borders would have been imported from Yakyakistan -- there were a few educational perils involved with hanging around the Boutique -- and the designer's stock suffered accordingly. There wouldn't have been any in the standard food supply coffer.
Twilight did know Rarity's trick. She didn't have the same degree of refinement with it: detecting something on the level of a chaos pearl was beyond her. But when it came to a cachalong opal, she could try to search, doing so with a fairly significant radius -- and her hasty experiment quickly proved two things: the stone didn't seem to be in the immediate part of their current continent, and the density of local trees did a lot to break up the outrushing spell.
They couldn't completely abandon the inciting conditions, they didn't have a cure, helplessness had begun to crash in...
...and then she'd started to wonder about treatment.
Her idea seemed to be helping him, and she was grateful simply for having potentially thought of the right thing.
Watching the process just happened to qualify as surreal.
The rose light of Sun's lowering glowed against the outside of the -- 'window' was probably accurate on some level, but Rarity wasn't entirely sure whether the description was fair. A window was meant to let light go through in two directions, and this specimen was having some rather visible trouble with managing the feat in either. So much of the hue simply coated the poorly-worked glass, unable to find true passage.
There was a device mounted in the kitchen's ceiling. It was present to provide light and because the 'house' (same reason) didn't appear to have been previously used, it wasn't running on much of a charge. The glowing twists of wire provided sufficient lumens to allow identification of the other pony in the room, and that wasn't really saying much when the other pony was Pinkie. A rough outline of curls generally sufficed.
Just barely enough to see by, for a given value of 'see'. There certainly wasn't enough power to allow penetration of the glass from the other direction.
Light trapped within. Light trapped without.
Something about that seemed almost to summarize their current situation. It had simply neglected the part where they were also trapped with the darkness.
...although at the moment, that was several 'houses' down the row, and presumably wouldn't be dropping by until after she finished --
-- Rarity didn't know if Truedawn offered any group exercise program for residents, but the community definitely gave quotation marks something of a workout --
-- 'dinner'.
The designer stood by the window for a few more seconds, never quite managing to gaze at what was outside. At one point, she tried to angle her attempt up and got just enough of a glimpse to note that the shield was either changing color to match the sunset or letting the rays through perfectly. Either way, it was more than what the glass had accomplished.
Twilight would be fascinated...
She thought about Twilight for a moment. It gave her a brief diversion from thinking about Spike.
Rarity tried to stare out the window, and failed. Light didn't really come in, nor could get it out.
The other occupant of the room carefully cleared her throat, and the voiced "Rarity?" felt slightly... timid.
"Yes, Pinkie?" asked the distracted unicorn.
Carefully, "The food's getting cold."
"...yes. Well... perhaps that will help."
The glass kept the light in and out. The scents, however, clearly weren't going anywhere.
Reluctantly, Rarity forced herself to breathe, and then put a good portion of her willpower into turning away from the window. This meant looking into the kitchen, and there was enough light to make out Pinkie on the other side of the rickety table. It also allowed her to acquire a further impression of the table's contents, and that really didn't matter very much because when it came to impressions, the first was generally the most important.
Some of the outlines upon the plates had shifted. Others had sagged. Two were on the verge of collapsing into themselves, and one brought up a few questions about the exact requirements for using 'mutate'.
She sighed. Came back to the table, sat down on a recently-desplintered floor, and began to eat. Pinkie, acting out of both friendship and solidarity, did the same.
A little time passed. The window's glow shifted closer to orange, and she thought about Applejack.
"Do you remember the Baked Bads?" Pinkie eventually asked.
Rarity's snout wrinkled.
"Yes." She looked down at the contents of her plate. "With surprising fondness."
The plan had always been to get him temporarily out of the area. He'd backed off from the shield's border before putting the sign up, but the cloth had still been relatively close to the -- 'community' -- and there was a chance of having an aerial patrol spot it. And they really didn't need to deal with the 'local' ponies right now. Especially when the apparent response to finding strangers was to bring them into a lockdown area, and the last of the Equestrian group was currently stranded at high altitude with no feasible means of safe descent.
So Fluttershy had collected the fabric, Twilight gathered the living in close, and a frantic flare of magic had brought them back to the tepui's giant forested stone-and-soil tabletop. Time had naturally been allotted to Applejack's expressions of relief, some of which had even been comprehensible. And after that...
There wasn't quite as much humidity at this level. Water had a tendency to sink (and Twilight received another reminder of that when she glanced over the rim and saw a small cloud drifting by below them). Removing Spike from the inflicting environment helped -- while also creating a new group of problems.
The group had already recognized just how high up they were. Above Canterlot. Above Cloudsdale. And that was an issue.
The sky settlements existed at their assigned altitude for a reason. Yes, there was something about pegasus respiration which allowed them to operate in lower atmospheric pressure -- to a degree. Go up high enough, and even pegasi would struggle for oxygen. There were diseases which could strike those who spent too much time in the thinnest air: Rainbow had been through a bout with Manière's, and three days had passed before she could take so much as a single hoofstep without risking total loss of balance.
Perhaps there were techniques which concentrated the air around the cloud cities, offered a more 'normal' pressure to residents and those scant visitors from the ground. Twilight didn't know: as with so many aspects of other-species magic, it had remained in the background of her life because there had been no need to wonder about it. Fluttershy probably had the answer -- and if those techniques did exist, then the hybrid lacked the ability to create them.
They were higher up than they'd ever been before, and there was a price for that. Move too quickly for too long, and the headaches started -- accompanied by uncertainty as to just where that last hoof had come down, because full coordination had apparently been abandoned at sea level. Spending too much time in reeling their way across the tepui allowed Applejack's nausea to find new homes, and Fluttershy quickly brought out their supply of m'changa. Measured dosages, distributed it, and told the group that the only true cure was to do as little as possible while allowing their bodies to acclimate -- something which would require more time on the tepui than they'd intended.
But they had to move, because the plants were some distance away from the rim. They needed wood. And once they'd found enough dead pieces for a start, the altitude fought them again.
Spike was kept out of the ignition phase, and everything else: he was already sick. But it turned out that fires were harder to start in the high places. They seemed to actively resist being maintained. Flames jumped in strange ways, then sunk under the wood and searched for ways to extinguish themselves. The group had to fight to get the campfire going, and then they had to keep a near-constant watch over it to make sure it wasn't about to go out. But once they felt there was enough to work with, the ponies had settled around it.
The dragon, by contrast, had been told to settle in. And had.
Spike was seated within the flames.
It wasn't hurting him. It couldn't. He routinely reached into ovens with bare claws, manually adjusted the facings of hot coals during barbecues, and incidentally happened to take a yearly health swim in lava. Twilight had still insisted that he lean forward somewhat while breathing, because dragons still needed oxygen, there wasn't a lot available at the current altitude, and the fire was trying for most of it. (Any dive which went fully under the lava required Spike to hold his breath, and keeping his mouth shut was mandatory because while the inside of his mouth was also fireproof, anything which solidified after surfacing had to be chipped free.)
The fire couldn't hurt him. But when somepony was sick... one of the most common first steps was to try warming them up. And when it came to treating a dragon, Twilight was simply trying to warm him to a level beyond what any water in his lungs could bear.
So he was sitting in the fire. All the colors of flame played across scales, danced within his eyes: the yellow had a special prominence. This was added to the hues offered up by setting Sun, which mostly offered a soft caress to his crests. He could speak normally, but sometimes had to repeat a word because the wood had crackled at a bad moment. The smoke was being ignored.
Well... he was ignoring the smoke. They'd set up the fire in close proximity to the rim: bare rock, with no worries about igniting the tepui. And Applejack was sure that their blaze was a little too small to be casually spotted from ground level, especially with the canopy in play -- but that was with casual searches. With pegasi around, any patrol could go airborne. And when it came to the canopy...
Twilight got up.
"...you shouldn't move too much," Fluttershy softly cautioned her, and did so as slightly-oversized wings carefully, deliberately flapped. An action which wasn't going to bring flight, with their owner spread out low across the rock.
"I just want to check something," the librarian said. "Sun's being lowered..." She forced herself towards the rim, with excessive care taken in the planting of each hoof. "Let me see..."
She looked down.
"What are you lookin' for, Twi?"
"Lights," the small mare readily admitted. "Even little ones. If there's a community down there, somewhere under the trees, then... this would be around the hour when they would activate their devices. Even tents would need some lighting." Spike had described a mixed group and even if there had been nothing but unicorns, you couldn't do everything by corona radiance for long. "It might be possible to spot exactly where they are."
"Makes sense," the farmer admitted. "An' what are y'seein'?"
She squinted.
"Trees," Twilight reluctantly admitted. "I'll check again later. But either they're not using a lot of light yet, they don't use it at all, or there's an illusion built into that shield." Muttering slightly, "Something which makes sure that when you're looking down, all you see is trees."
It was worthy of study. It was also a problem.
"...it's not a perfect defense," Fluttershy pointed out. "We still saw the sparkles."
"There isn't much you can do about the sparkles." She'd met one exception, for whom the quality existed within a single casting. A working which she never wanted to see again.
"There isn't much we can do about making the Sparkle get some rest, either," the youngest voice stated. "Except keep asking." More gently, "Lie down, Twilight. ...please."
She sighed. Turned, carefully planted her hooves all the way back, and lowered herself to the stone. Watched Fluttershy's wings for a while, because the careful flapping was directing the smoke to move backwards across the tepui, taking it out of ground-level sight. Hybrids had very little of their birth race's magic -- but even Fluttershy and Snowflake could manage a little wind.
Twilight wasn't sure there was much point to creating that level of concealment. But they were all doing what they could...
"I know I took a risk," her brother quietly offered. "Putting the cloth up like that. Anypony could have seen it."
Maybe we should have tried it earlier. But she didn't say it, because the factors had changed. They'd all been trying to conceal their presence from any sapients who might have been in the rain forest, and -- there wasn't as much point now.
"We saw it," Twilight gently replied. "That's the important thing." She took a deep breath: a small amount of oxygen followed it down. "It was a risk for us to use a high observation point, Spike. Especially with what I did. Popping in and out of the between like that... it was a lot of light. And there might have been a group up here, for all we knew. Everything we try is a risk. We just had the last ones work out."
He reluctantly nodded. Thin lips parted, and a wisp of steam drifted into the air.
Tea's up.
A stray thought. Unexpected and uncontrolled.
"I wasn't sure it was you at first," he said. "When you came through the canopy. I thought it might have been somepony with an illusion around their body."
"What made you decide?"
He smiled.
"You dropped."
"...oh," Twilight said, and left it at that. Watched flames play across his scales.
"You all look hungry," Spike observed.
"Kinda," Applejack admitted. "It's been a long day."
"Kick me that fruit?"
The farmer obliged. He caught the maracuya in his right hand, then lowered his arm and rotated the wrist while claws spread out their grip.
After a few seconds, he rotated the fruit. Making sure it got an even sear.
My brother is sitting in a fire.
That thought had been intentional, and was no less surreal.
It would have been fair to say that Nira's cooking wasn't quite on the level which a sleep-deprived Applejack could achieve, because that had been capable of cleaning out half of a digestive system from the wrong end. The community resident had just brought a certain degree of anti-art to her results. It was the culinary equivalent of placing a flowing toilet trench in the open floor of a museum and designating it as a display piece, only accomplished by accident.
The pineapple had clearly been flipped a few times: uneven heating periods had allowed it to achieve the remarkable feat of being simultaneously overcooked and undercooked. Which didn't really matter too much, because grill char marks made up most of the actual flavor. The remainder came from the fact that some pineapples were so acidic as to create some question as to just who was actually being eaten.
They'd been offered true yams. Rarity was aware that some specimens, upon being removed from the soil, were toxic. Thorough cooking neutralized that quality, rendering the vegetable into something perfectly edible. And because it took thorough cooking to do it, Rarity had carefully nosed the stinking tuber to the far side of her plate and was leaving it there until she figured out how to get the oven turned on.
Corn could be cooked within the husk. Once peeled free, there was the option to grill, boil, or roast. Attempting all of them on the same ears had been a choice. However, there was only so much you could do to an eggplant, and Nira had managed most of it.
The tomatillos had merely been cleaned. The results were incredibly sour, and this made them the best thing on the platter because once Rarity had tried a few in quick succession, most of the other flavors were lost.
The two mares forced themselves to eat. They had supplies and in the event of a crisis which required actual food, they were going to need them.
"She's very nice," Pinkie eventually said, once the gagging had stopped. "Nira, I mean. It feels like she cares about us being comfortable. Welcome."
"A very pleasant mare," Rarity agreed.
"Who can't really cook," the baker sighed. "I think she was just doing... the basics. 'Heat this. Flip that.' Without really looking at the temperature or the time. But she tried..."
Rarity reluctantly nodded, then made herself take another bite of the eggplant and, after some half-hearted chewing, even more reluctantly swallowed.
"You did notice the way she brought the food in," the designer observed.
Pinkie nodded. "Back-mounted tray on a balance platform. And another tray in a tooth grip."
"No ignition of corona to place anything upon the table," Rarity continued. "The mouth tray was slid into place, and then she waited for assistance with the other..."
"Rhynorn's Flu?" Pinkie tentatively proposed.
"I saw no other symptoms," Rarity noted. "But that does serve as a reminder. That there are multiple diseases which affect magic. Rhynorn's is simply the one which prevents focused casting --" paused. "Pinkie? Is there an earth pony equivalent?"
The baker was quiet for a moment.
"Yes. It's like laryngitis, except inside. One of my sisters caught it. But that goes away after a while."
She hardly ever mentions siblings. Not beyond the twins, and Pumpkin is a pegasus. We are all aware of her adoption, but...
Adopted, with siblings left behind.
Bitterly, Why only her, Gentle Arrival? Taken away from the rock farm alone, as one of yours?
"When I was a little Pinkie, I thought I had a forever case," Pinkie slowly finished. "I didn't."
Rarity quickly changed the subject, and did so before mane curls had a chance to collapse.
"I saw you speaking with Nira, before she left," the unicorn hastily said. "What was the topic?"
"Asking if she was a cook," Pinkie readily said. "Not that I really really thought she was, because I remembered what she said before. And I'd already smelled the food. But she said that she just dabbled. That let me ask her what she really did, and -- she told me that she was still figuring that out. And that there was no reason to ever do only one thing."
"At her age?" Rarity's shock inquired. "I looked up the record for oldest manifest, Pinkie -- and do not give me that look: I was thinking of Sweetie, the Crusade was still on, and I had a number of fully legitimate concerns."
The baker carefully put the half-smile away.
"Not that I know exactly how old Nira is," the designer admitted. "But she's younger than I am. I'm sure of that." And Starlight is...? "Which still puts her well over the line. When a declaration of 'Still figuring that out' could easily suggest --" and the next words had to be forced "-- no mark at all."
"Or she's trying different marks out," Pinkie proposed. "If they know how to switch whenever they want, and the talent moves..."
"Or she is ill," Rarity carefully countered. "And the talent does not work, and she searches for a replacement..."
"We don't know," the hybrid admitted. "We can't. Not yet."
"We only know," Rarity replied, "that Starlight is most likely involved. Her field hue, Pinkie. In Spike's picture, and then again in life. There is some chance for overlap, of course -- only so many shades, especially when it comes to those which have been named."
"And we've seen long odds before," Pinkie reminded her.
"Usually from the receiving end," Rarity sighed. Simply being chosen by the Elements... "However, until we find another candidate in a place where nopony else has been visibly casting, let us go with the balance of probability and location. Which state that she is mostly likely the caster responsible for the lockdown. And who, at the very least, charged the teleport device."
"Yes," Pinkie simply said. "And she opened the shield. So she's strong, and she probably knows more spells than most unicorns, and... she doesn't smile right."
Cautiously, "You said that earlier. I promised that I would try to see it --"
With somewhat more insistence, "She doesn't. And there's something else, Rarity."
It seemed to be a prompt. "What?"
"The first time Spike saw that color."
She thought about it. Glanced back at the half-glowing windowpane, and found no help there.
"It has... been a very long day, Pinkie," Rarity finally surrendered. "A long day, after poor sleep, being spent in an unknown place, with hosts of questionable quality. And I will never have your memory. Remind me?"
The topics were shifting.
"It was the same color," Spike solidly stated from his place amidst the flames. "The picture, her taking notes -- and the first time I saw it, Twilight. When I tried to send a scroll to Scootaloo's parents, and a lockdown bounced pieces back." Empty hands tightly clenched, and firelight gleamed upon tensed scales. "It's what you said in Applejack's house: maybe it was the same lockdown which killed that poor stallion. Maybe it rips everything apart. You didn't do the wrong thing by dumping us out, Twilight. You didn't. Because if you hadn't, then..." He swallowed. "...you would have had about two seconds to see if you could break her defenses. And I know you're strong, but... that's not enough time. It would have been reflex. Try to make one gap. Something we could all fit through. And..."
He couldn't bear to go on, and his sister could barely make herself finish the thought.
And I might not have had enough time.
Or it could have been almost wide enough. Maybe enough for nearly all of us to get past.
Nearly.
"I understand, Spike," she softly told him. "But... I still didn't know what had happened to everypony. When the three of us appeared without the rest of you..."
If you hadn't sent those scroll pieces...
She didn't know how to say it, and the anguish of lacking words twisted her tail.
So a watching Applejack said it for her.
"She didn't take it well," the farmer evenly stated. "Leave it at that. Y'let us know y'were okay jus' in time, Spike. She did the right thing, but -- so did you."
Fluttershy nodded. The group was quiet for a while, as Sun continued to dip.
"I've been thinking about that," Twilight finally admitted. "It's something else from Applejack's house, Spike. What she said."
"Me?" the farmer immediately asked. "What did Ah --"
"-- you said they might be in a place which they can't leave. And the Princess --" Oh, good: the title is back. "-- told us that they didn't have reports from every place beyond Equestria. So what if they're patients in a sick colony?" Her forelegs spread out, and the right hoof waved a little. "There's something wrong with their marks, and they can't leave until they're cured. You saw all of those ponies wearing clothing. They didn't want their marks to be spotted --"
"-- it's possible," her brother allowed. "Except that Starlight brought that group out."
"Trustees," the librarian proposed -- then realized she'd just used a term suited to prisons. "Or not as sick -- Applejack?"
Distractedly, "What?"
"You've just got a really strange look on your face right now," Twilight reluctantly said. "And your tail is -- sort of all over the place."
The farmer glanced back, snorted, and got the thick mass under control before facing the others again. "Jus' thinkin'. There's some irony there, Twi. The deep, dark stuff. That of all the ponies in the world who could get mark-sick somehow, it's the parents of the one who'll do anythin' if it means her hips finally glow. But... yeah. They could be somewhere inside that shield, especially since the vouchers keep --" and stopped, as green eyes went wide.
"...Applejack?" Fluttershy carefully asked. "You just thought of something --"
"-- the vouchers," Applejack declared, and a powerful right foreleg kicked a twig into the edge of the fire. "There ain't gonna be a post office in there, right? An' we know those teleport rods have range, 'cause the piece got us here. Twilight, if'fin they're patients, then somepony is goin' in an' out on the regular. At least once a moon. An' they go all over the place, because that's where those voucher are mailed from: jus' 'bout everywhere." Solidly, "An' they've gotta be paid for, every voucher. Purchased at a bank. Can't jus' have a bank here an' shove 'em out because somepony figured out how t' teleport a voucher into a mailbag by itself. Ah call this proof of one thing, Twi: if they're under that shield, even if the vouchers are bein' purchased an' sent by somepony else -- then this ain't contagious, not through breath an' probably not blood. If it's a disease, then it's from somethin' you're exposed to, or somethin' y'do. Because if'fin it wasn't --" and nodded to Twilight.
"Outbreaks," the librarian softly said. "Everywhere. It could still be a blood factor, but with breath -- we'd have seen this years ago. Breaking out everywhere a voucher had been mailed."
"An' at least one of 'em came from Canterlot," Applejack added. "Chew on that one for a while. The Princesses have been safe all along."
"...because if it's a disease," Fluttershy softly said, "then not having a cure doesn't mean they didn't isolate a cause. You're right. It can't spread from proximity or contact. And they would have to know how to keep somepony from getting it."
"Which means the others might have been brought in for their own protection," Twilight considered. Please... "Before they came across the cause. And these ponies stay out here because they feel like they know how Equestrians would react..."
"When they could go to the palace," Spike verbally jumped in, "and ask for help. To look for a cure. And you know they'd help. With this of all things, maybe with this more than just about anything --"
"-- they could be scared! Ponies don't always act rationally, no one does, and -- I know about ponies who won't ask for help! I... used to be --"
"Starlight can't be a doctor," Spike said, and steam vented from minimal nostrils. "A doctor would ask for help. There's something wrong with her. Something bad."
They kept coming back to that. And he couldn't explain why he felt that way. It was... instinct.
Everypony took a few breaths. Realized how little it was doing, and tried a few more.
"We could find her parents," Applejack finally said. "One way or another, sick colony or no. We could... bring 'em home..."
The blonde tail lashed. The hat, caught between strong ears, was half-crushed inwards.
"...Applejack," Fluttershy said, "talk to us --"
"-- 'sick' is a powerful excuse," the farmer stated. "Ah'll understand sick. No need t' forgive it. We can yell at them for not tellin' her, but -- in the end, Ah could go with 'sick' for all of it. So let's jus' hope that's what it is. Because there's options which weren't a sick colony, Twi. Pretty sure y'remember all of them, 'cause it was a list, wasn't it? One line read 'prisoner', and that's part of why we've gotta get in there. For our own, an' so many others. But there's worse than that on the list."
The tail lashed again, and the binding rope loop nearly came off.
"So let's hope they stay in the 'good' parts," Applejack concluded. "For everypony's sake."
"What do they look like?"
"I don't know," Pinkie reluctantly admitted. "Miranda has a picture somewhere. I'm pretty sure Applejack saw it. I didn't."
"So we could come across them," Rarity realized, "and never know."
They could simply ask around, of course. Or call out the filly's name, and see if anypony reacted. But it would bring them that much closer to revealing who they truly were.
But her parents have been missing for years. If they are here, then we must --
"And there's no children here," the baker quietly said. "Not unless they're hiding, or hidden. Maybe... you can't bring your filly when you come here. Maybe they were trying to protect her..."
They both forced themselves to eat a little more.
"I wish Rainbow would come in," Pinkie coughed out. "She needs to hear this too."
"Yes," Rarity agreed. "But she's likely eating." Darkly, "And there is the issue of her bringing along company."
"If they keep going like this," Spike worriedly reported, "it's going to turn into a fight. And I'm not there to try and break anything up."
And Rarity was the single dirtiest fighter among the Bearers, while Trixie would likely display a tendency to... innovate.
Twilight winced.
"I didn't mean to bring her," she quickly said. "I..."
They were looking at her. All of them, and that very much included the gaze which came from green eyes and vertically-slit pupils. The eyes she would have given so much to see again, and the ones which gave her the strength to go on.
"...but it was still me," Twilight finally told them. "Because of how I was preparing to cast. I kept telling myself that I had to bring all of my friends..."
Her head dipped, because she didn't want to see their expressions. Firelight shifted over loosely-held wings.
Fluttershy sighed.
"...don't tell Luna that part," the caretaker quietly decided. "She'd feel really bad for not having nearly hit the lockdown."
Spike choked back most of the laugh. Applejack snorted, and Twilight's tail twitched.
"...I'm not trying to be funny..."
"Ah know," Applejack half-snickered. "That's when you're best at it. Yeah, she might not take missin' out on almost dyin' very well. Outright tick her off. We'd get the cold shoulder for weeks. An' the cold everythin' else for ten minutes."
Twilight managed a nod, and then went back to picturing Spike's described rescue.
"Would Rainbow have gotten there?"
"She could have caught up," her brother decided -- followed by, with considerably more reluctance, "But it's easy to go under the water. Rainbow can't fly in water. And if that happened..."
Only a little time submerged, and the water could have been removed from Rarity's lungs.
Too much, and no doctor would have been enough.
"No marked physician," Rarity noted. "Unless that is Starlight. But if this is a sick colony, then to have but one doctor would be odd at best." Although they might have been lied to.
"Unless she discovered the disease," Pinkie proposed. "And she's trying to solve it all by herself."
"A herd would be better," the designer immediately decided. "But we don't understand the risks there, of course."
"And disease," Pinkie carefully reminded her, "isn't the only option."
Weapons research. Spell experimentation.
Either reason could be argued as exclusively existing among traitors to their own species -- but Twilight had told them about the Severance. And there could be other reasons for desiring to alter a mark.
Rarity could make herself recognize one concept: that a single moment in a pony's life might not define who they wished to be forever. But...
...exploring a better way of life...
That didn't make any sense.
They finished eating, prepared for the consequences of having their digestive systems deal with any of it, and mutually began to clean up. Nira was going to want the trays back.
"We'll wait for Rainbow," Rarity decided. "For as long as we can. But it's quite possible that she fell asleep immediately after finishing her meal." With a little sigh, "Which would hardly be the first time, but -- this environment has been nearly as hard on her as any."
Spike.
Be brave, small one.
Be safe.
"We may need to regroup under Moon," the unicorn considered. "Less chance of being spotted. So if she does not appear within an hour or so -- we... go to the other house. Check on her."
"On them --" Pinkie started to say.
"And until then," Rarity automatically cut her off, "we should try to rest."
Be safe, dearest.
And if you are not...
Sun was nearly gone. Twilight was using the last moments of daylight to examine the sky.
"Whatcha lookin' for?"
"Same as before. Pegasi on patrol. I thought I heard big wings at one point."
"...I saw the source," Fluttershy carefully cut in. "That's why I didn't say anything. It was just a Criollo condor."
The species name wasn't familiar. "A bird."
"...yes."
"Big enough for the wingspan to sound sort of like a pegasus?"
"...yes."
"And it can still get off the ground?"
"...yes," the caretaker repeated. "They're the largest flying birds in the world."
Curiously, "What do they look like?"
"...well... they're in the vulture family. So mostly like that. Only with a white ruff of feathers at the base of their neck. Or black. Some of the ruffs are black."
"You're sure it was --"
Just a little insulted, "...yes. Twilight, a pegasus isn't going to look anything like a vulture. Just for starters, there's two extra legs --" and the one visible eye abruptly blinked. "...Spike!"
Who looked up from the heart of the fire. "What?"
"...I just remembered! I have your disguise! And since we're going back down to try and get in there, we should see what it is!"
It was the little dragon's turn to blink. Then he stood up, stepped out of the fire, and -- stood very still.
"...Spike?"
"Y'okay? Ah mean, your breathin' sounds better already, but you're jus' --"
"Cooling off," he told them. (Twilight, who'd had to wait for him after the lava swims, added a nod.) "I shed heat pretty fast -- but right now, I'm a little too hot to be touching anything. Give me a minute."
Fluttershy nodded, then turned her head towards her right flank. Careful toothwork got a saddlebag open. Rummaging ensued.
"Sty wink schist tis hit," was quickly translated away from the Got Something In My Mouth. "Year..."
The wrapped package was deposited onto stone: tightly-wound brown fabric, almost two-dimensional, sealed with a black ribbon. Spike waited a little longer, then walked over and picked it up.
"Something in here," he unnecessarily reported. "It's thin..." He undid the ribbon. Fabric was dispersed --
"-- oh," the little dragon softly breathed. "Oh."
He held it out in front of his body, slowly turned to let the others see the golden chain. One which led into flared half-curls of suggested wings flanking a center alexandrite jewel, carved to look like a wisp of flame...
"...it's like ours," Fluttershy breathed.
"Oh, Spike..." Twilight smiled. "You finally have one..."
"Completes the set," Applejack grinned. "An' way past time --" The farmer squinted. "-- hang on a mite. Ours ain't got those little jewel beads goin' up the chain. Why the style switch?"
Their Magic took an expert guess. "Luna was thinking about illusion shells. Multiple beads... maybe she enchanted this herself, and included different options." With growing excitement, "So Spike could change his appearance in a hurry, and not just be stuck with one thing! Each bead triggers a different shell! Spike, are there instructions?"
The little dragon shook his head.
"Then they didn't have time to kick some in," Twilight considered. "Or it doesn't really need them. What's the most basic way to..." Moon began to come over the horizon: the little mare ignored it. "Got it! Spike, this has to be keyed to you. Just pick any bead and -- squeeze it between your claw tips! See what happens!"
"Twilight," her sibling cautiously said, "we don't know --"
In open enthusiasm, "-- it's Luna! The greatest illusion-caster of this generation, and most of the ones before! Just try it!"
His right hand came up. Slowly moved to the uppermost bead on the left side of the chain, gripped, and squeezed.
There was no flash. No burst of light or flare of corona, because Luna was better than that. There was certainly no sound associated with the spell taking hold. It all happened at once, without ritual or ceremony.
Her brother turned into a box.