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// One: Still Gray World 
// Story: Knowledge Without Wisdom 
// by Twinflame 
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The shadows haunted fields of gray dust, laying long atop them for inestimable periods of time. Soft bulges on the monotone horizon imitated the hillocks of Equestrian plains, tiny things that threw their mockingly long silhouettes over craters and ancient crevices. Deep gouges in the shape of a sanctum drew her omniscient gaze across the otherworldly vista, so that she scarcely could see the unthinkably vibrant stars above her head; innumerable in number, pinpricks of color that exceeded the visible spectrum. Below were the gouges, the hiding spots of things nopony fathomed, and they were black, featureless, bottomless. She heard voices from within, shouting at one another in argument.
And the dream was already fading, to moonlight, through a round window and comfortably warm blankets, a body so tired and settled that it felt like all her joints had melted and her bones had turned to string. She let her eyes slide shut, felt their comfortable weight, opened them to look at the bookshelves across from her bed. All the books looked gray in the moonlight, and she smiled at how straight and ordered they were. Her thoughts sloshed about like mud in her head, keeping her for a large part stubbornly asleep. Barely visible below the bed's footboard, Spike's chest moved up and down beneath his blanket, the tiny dragon still except for that motion, the sound of his breath light in the air. On her blanket's star pattern, the nearby telescope threw a rigid shadow.
Great voices in argument, so deep and loud they shook the world: the memory from her sleeping sights slid back from the pit of forgotten dreams it had all but vanished into. And it brought with it the emotion she'd felt as she had flown disembodied over the otherworldly landscape. Turning onto her stomach and pressing her face deeper into her pillow, she put her hooves under the covers and pulled them about her head. She didn't remember what the voices had been saying, where they were, why they were. There had been the thought that the voices were deciding her fate, and the fear of what that would mean. She could feel the dream, a nightmare more disquieting than terrifying, trying desperately to clamber its way back into her memory, and she was afraid if she slipped back to sleep she'd fall into it and find herself once more dropping sideways over a gray desert.
Though she groaned softly in dismay at the thought of moving, the fear of sleep had her pushing herself up into a sitting position in bed. She sat still with her eyes closed for a long moment, sagging under her own weight, and was about to let herself collapse back onto her face in surrender when she heard the muffled clack of a hoof upon wood somewhere nearby. A voice, small even before it filtered through the walls and the floor, said something. Shouted it? Shaking her head slow to try and loosen her sticky, heavy thoughts, watching with half-lidded eyes as her mane swung about her face, she worked her jaw and yawned so deeply that her whole body shivered for a moment.
What time was it? Had someone woken her up?
Once again she heard the hoof hit wood, three times, and a voice bellowing. A few consonant sounds reached her, and the long pauses between them for vowels made her suspect Applejack’s drawl. Muttering incoherently even to herself, she slid to the side of the bed and let herself fall out onto her unsteady hooves. Slowly she eased herself free of the blanket’s clinging edges and began to stumble through her room. Wooden floor and walls with modest decorations, meticulously organized books on shelves or in purposeful piles, and ordered stacks of notes and lists and rough drafts of reports all set as though ancient in the heavy evening air. The white light of the moon cast everything in gray and gave it a dusty feel, and she couldn’t shake the same feeling she’d had above the modestly-hilled dreamscape. A muted sense of distress and confusion lingered as though abandoned in her chest by the dream upon its exit.
She paused next to Spike, looking down into the basket he used for a bed, and gave his sleeping face an affectionate smile. By the time she heard the knocking hoof again, the weight of her mood had decreased at least a bit. But then, how was she supposed to feel, being woken up in the middle of the night and from a bad dream no less?
Spurred to movement by the sound of knocking, she whispered, “Don’t worry, Spike, I’ll get it,” and started away from her slumbering assistant. As much as every part of her body felt mired in reluctant somnambulation, she tried to put some energy into her steps as she made her way off the elevated dais that bore her bed, out of her room and down the stairs into the library proper. When she stepped off the stairs and lit a small lamp, the gray books turning brown or red or blue, she was struck with nostalgia from all-night study sessions long past. Or the few times she’d risen before the sun to sneak in an extra few hours of cramming before a test. It put a smile on her face, and suddenly she wondered if she could spare an hour to read before going back to bed.
A hoof pounded on the library door once more, this time with a bit more fervor, and she heard a small voice with cowpony inflections calling her name in a worried tone. She went to the door and pushed it open, having already concluded who was outside and unsure whether she should be more worried or confused. When she saw the distressed look in Applebloom’s features, she chose the former, and was about to speak when the foal launched into what struck the sleepy pony at that time to be hysterics.
“Twiligh! Twiligh, I was all worried ya were gonna sleep right through ma hollerin’!” Applebloom spun about on the doorstep and spoke lightning quick, her voice thin with tension. “Ya gotta help me Twiligh, and ya gotta not tell Applejack I’m out here so late or she’ll never lemme go visitin’ Zecora ‘gain!”
The way Applebloom’s brow creased her forehead above her large, teary eyes, and the way her frown pulled her cheeks back into dimples were all as disarmingly cute as a confused puppy. So the stress in the foal’s voice was completely lost on Twilight, who was moved to smile fondly at her friend’s little sister and sat back on her haunches. “Well she’s bound to find out whether or not I tell her. Come inside.”
“I can’t, Twiligh!” Applebloom hopped backwards as if dodging out of something’s clutches, and her red bow bounced upon her head. “Ya gotta come on out to the Everfree and help me! Zecora’s-”
“The Everfree?” Twilight’s tone shifted into lecture-mode, “Hey, it is way too late to be going out to the Everfree Forest. Even if I did go with you. The only place I’m going to take you is back to Sweet Apple Acres, and even that’s only if you won’t just come inside and stay here!”
“But Twiiiiligh!”
“What time is it anyway?”
“I’unno! Listen, Twi-”
“No. Time to come inside, Applebloom.”
The foal hopped up and down and put an angry look on her face, “No! Listen, Twilight! Somethin’s wrong with Zecora!”
Twilight did not abandon the lecturing tone, “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s just standin there starin, and she’s been that way for hours!” She spun again, losing the anger and regaining the more innocent worry, “I went for a visit this aftahnoon and she was fine. But we started stargazin’ when the moon came out and she just froze up!”
“Froze up?”
“Like this!” Applebloom sat down on the ground and turned her gaze directly up, staring at some point in the inky black. “Just like this ‘ere, and she ain’t moved so much as a single smidgeon since!”
Twilight smirked, “Maybe she fell asleep?”
“Her eyes’re open though! Ain’t a pony I know of sleeps with their eyes open! And I tried shakin her and yellin’ at her an everything. I even made a cuppa tea and held it by her nose so she’d smell it and it didn’t work. And ain’t nothin’ Zecora likes more’n tea!”
Sighing and letting her head sag, Twilight wished it were something she could just explain away. “Zecora’s a smart pony. I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll go check on her first thing in the morning, okay?”
“I ain’t comin’ in!” Applebloom hopped up into an action stance. “Zecora ain’t moved in hours and it’s really weird and I’m sure it ain’t good fer her. And I dunno what to do about it and I was supposed to be home hours ago and Big Mac’s gonna scold me bad f’sure. But I ain’t goin noplace but where I gotta to make sure Zecora’s okay!”
“Applebloom, we can’t just-”
“I’m scared, Twilight!”
Twilight Sparkle blinked at Applebloom and frowned. Standing in the warm light of the single lamp in the library, the tiny yellow foal was an island of activity and color in a world that, all around her, was turned slate gray by moonlight. Ponyville was a monotone vista that sat perfectly still, the only hint that it wasn’t some sort of ornate diorama being the breeze, and it stayed that way all the way to the horizon. Between them and the edge of the panorama were bleak shadows, like empty crevices, that marked the Everfree Woods and the tall hills beyond it. And above that the stars were just as vibrant as in her dream, seemingly moreso than on other nights, and her gaze shook as the echoes of fear and disquietude rang again in her chest and head.
Finally, Twilight dropped her gaze back to Applebloom, and she noticed something very serious in the foal’s eyes. Twilight wanted Applebloom to come in and stay at the library; wanted anything but to go out into that still, gray night. But what was she supposed to say? I’m scared? But Applebloom had just said that, and foals had far more excuse to be afraid than those they depended on. Twilight asked herself what would she do every time she had a nightmare as a foal. The answer: run to her mother and say, ‘I’m scared.’ And every time she missed a school assignment back in Canterlot? Run to Celestia and say she was scared.
Twilight took a deep breath and shook her head, “Don’t worry, Applebloom. It’s going to be just fine.”
“But Zecora-!”
“Trust me. That’s why you came here, right?” Twilight smiled at the thought.
Applebloom thought for a moment, and shrugged, “Yeah, and cause it seemed all magicky-like how she’s all frozen. And you’re a magicky pony and Applejack says you’re good at figurin’ thangs. Oh! And cause Applejack and Big Mac would just yell at me and put me to bed and never lemme out for all a’ ever on account a me comin’ home so late. But, yeah, s’pose so. Yup.”
Twilight snickered in spite of herself. “If I agree to go and see Zecora right now, will you come in and stay here until I get back?”
“No way! I gotta make sure she’s a’right! S’what friends do!”
“Or we can just go tell Big Mac all about this.”
Applebloom’s big eyes went a bit bigger as she realized the corner she’d been backed into, and she bit her bottom lip in frustration as she tried to figure a way out. “Aw, shoulda listened to Applejack more when she was goin’ on ‘bout how clever ya was.” She made her way past Twilight into the library.
“Your sister is a pretty good pony to listen to.” Twilight shut the door once Applebloom was inside and headed for the stairs, “Come on now.”
Following obediently, “Ya better do whatcha said ya was gonna do!”
“Of course.”
And then, Applebloom paused suddenly and took on an angry tone, “Even more’n that! Since ya ain’t lettin’ me go back to help her, ya better do ‘nough helpin’ for the both of us! Ya gotta make sure she’s a’right, and ya gotta make sure she’s comf’table an in bed, and she’s happy, and she got everythin’ she needs. Ya hear me?”
Twilight had to hold herself back from ruffling Applebloom’s mane. “You really like Zecora, huh?”
“Course I do! She’s one a ma best friends! And she’s one a the kindest and most... best ponies in all a Ponyville or wheresabouts. And much as Applejack likes talkin ya up, and no offense meant mind ya, I think she may even be smarter’n you an me an all us other apple folks put togather!”
“I think so, too.” She led the way into her room, where Spike was still asleep, and she lowered her voice to a whisper so as not to disturb him. “And I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure she’s doing just perfectly.”
“I’ll be holdin’ ya to that, Twilight.” Applebloom took on a whisper herself, though also looking about to figure out why she was whispering. When she finally noticed Spike, a smirk lit up her face for a brief moment.
Twilight beckoned Applebloom up the small flight of stairs onto the dais, and furthermore to her own bed. “You can keep the bed warm for me.”
“S’all mussed up.” The foal hopped up on the bed nonetheless, picking up the blanket that Twilight had twisted up in her sleep and tossing it flat. The thing was askew and Twilight was about to help the little pony fix it, but it was demonstrated to be good enough when Applebloom belly-flopped at its center. “S’pretty tirin’ walkin all the way through the Everfree forest an stayin up all day an then comin all the way here, ya know.”
“And it’s way past your bed time.”
“Am I gonna be in a lotta trouble?”
“We’ll see.” Twilight folded the blanket so that it covered Applebloom from the neck down. When she placed a pillow by the foal's head twisted so it was under her. “There’s nothing wrong with worrying about a friend. Next time, you should go to Applejack and let her come to me, though, okay?”
“I didn’t wanna get in trouble.”
“Ssh,” Twilight stepped away from the bed. “Keep on eye on Spike for me while I’m gone, okay?”
“Wait a sec, Twiligh.” Applebloom rolled onto her back. “When Applejack or Big Mac - whichever one of ‘em’s doin it - put me to bed at night, they always gimme a kiss on mah forehead ‘fore they head out.”
Twilight felt a smile pull at her cheeks as she said, “Alright,” and then stepped over, leaned down planted a light peck right between the foal’s eyes. “Better?”
“Eyup.” Applebloom rolled over to face the window.
Shutting the door behind her and heading downstairs, Twilight briefly pondered the wisdom of leaving a baby dragon and someone else’s foal alone, asleep, in the library. But she figured they were both responsible enough to not get in trouble for a few hours, especially since they were probably going to spend those few hours asleep. And, in all honesty, Twilight was worried about Zecora. The zebra that had at first been a terrifyingly mysterious presence to the people of Ponyville but had since turned into a wise neighbor and a great source for knowledge on botany, and had become one of Twilight’s more respected friends. The fact that Zecora chose to live in a place like the Everfree forest, which was not only distant from Ponyville and isolating in general, but also the home to all sorts of wild beasts and a place that did not obey natural laws; well, it had always been a bit unsettling. But it had been easy to trust someone as knowledgeable and wise as Zecora to know what was best for herself.
Twilight grabbed a pair of saddlebags on the library’s ground floor. In one she placed a survival guide for the wilderness, though she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure how much good it would do in a place like the Everfree Forest, where plants grew wild, animals couldn’t be reasoned with and weather just sort of happened, but if one can’t be completely prepared one should be as prepared as possible. In the other, she dropped her copy of “Supernaturals: Natural Remedies and Cure-alls that are Simply Super,” a book which on account of its name she’d never taken seriously until it had proven indispensable in helping to deal with some of the malicious plants of the Everfree Forest.
Almost as an afterthought, she dropped in water, and a compass in case she got lost. Then a sextant and a starchart in case she got exceptionally lost. Then flint in case she needed to build a fire, and a couple apples in case she was out there long enough to get hungry. This train of thought continued until she was trying to fit a fully annotated New Equestrian Atlas and Almanac into the saddlebags and just could not make a place for it. Then, she figured, she was as prepared as possible. Donning the saddlebags and for the first time realizing that the things she’d packed actually had weight and would need to be carried, she unpacked everything except the survival guide and her copy of Supernaturals. And except the water and the starchart. And except the sextant. And-
Eventually she pushed open the door to the library and stepped out, not unreasonably burdened by modestly bulging saddlebags.
The world was still gray. Her eyes went to the moon, noting first that it did not bare the facade of the Mare in the Moon, and second that it was inching towards midnight. After this observation, her gaze sought the stars against her will, like someone with a crippling fear of heights who can’t help but look down. Suddenly she was struck by a sense of vertigo, feeling like she wasn’t on the ground anymore, almost like she was sliding sideways in the gray world. Memories of unbearably loud voices speaking of things she couldn’t know resurfaced. She found herself closing her eyes, her legs turned to unyielding rods.
For just a moment she was like that, then she shook herself and grunted in annoyance, saying out loud, “Just a dream, Twilight. Just a dream that you don’t even remember, and you can’t even walk away from the library, and here you are in the middle of the night.” She looked to the left, “Ready to hike into the Everfree Forest.” She looked to the right, “All alone in the dark.” It would have been nice if there had been somepony around to take pity and go with her, or talk her out of it. She wasn’t so lucky, and briefly considered seeking out a friend to recruit for this trip. But, of course, they’d all just tell her to wait until morning, and she’d already made a promise to Applebloom and gotten herself all worked up with worry about Zecora. After all, what would happen if Zecora really did need help and nobody arrived in time to give it?
Groaning, Twilight forced herself to take one step forward, and then the second step was easier, and a few moments later she was watching her feet in dismay as they carried her away from the library. In her best imitation of Applejack’s accent, she said, “Ah, horsefeathers!” And when that didn’t cheer her up, she muttered, “You are not a smart pony, Twilight Sparkle. You are not a smart pony, at all!”
But on she went.