Rainbow Dash rubbed her bleary eyes with a hoof as she passed through the skies. She glanced up at the sun. A little after noon, by her estimation. About time for lunch, though she still didn’t feel much like eating. Perhaps that half of an apple she’d chewed on back at Applejack’s would tide her over, though Rainbow suspected that something other than food was taking space in her stomach at the moment—something heavy, indigestible. And there was no getting around the fact that she was bored, the glacial crawl of the day already wearing her patience thin. If the Graying didn’t kill her, then ennui might.
As she approached Ponyville, she spotted the library towering several blocks away, and with a subconscious tilt of her wings she banked to the right and skirted the edge of town. Ponyville’s suburbs—if they warranted such a title—seemed a virtual vacuum of activity. She was pretty sure she could count the number of ponies she saw out and about on her hooves and still have enough left over to play hop-scotch.
The dark presence of the Everfree rose before her, but she followed the edge of town, never allowing herself, through sheer instinct, to pass beyond the forest’s border. Just ahead, a familiar cottage came into view, and Rainbow smiled at the little garden and burbling stream and assorted feeders that lay strewn about the property. As she passed into its airspace, she entertained the idea of swooping down to give Fluttershy a visit. She finally decided against it.
She’s probably busy, she thought with a cold stare to the horizon. Celestia knows I kept Applejack from her work long enough.
But as she prepared to double her speed and make her way into town, a sound cut through the rush of passing air. Rainbow stopped and perked an ear. From the cottage, a cacophony of screeches, squeaks, hoots, barks, yips, and other assorted animal sounds issued—a symphony of distress from the normally peaceful home.
“What in the…?”
Rainbow went into a dive and swooped toward the cottage.
* * * *
Twilight was interrupted from her reading by the sound of the library door opening.
“Twilight, I’m back!”
“Hey, Spike,” she said without looking up.
“Look who I—”
“I really appreciate you getting that ink for me, but I’ve been thinking. I’m not sure about sending that letter to the Princess. At least not yet.”
“That’s fine, Twi, bu—”
“I’ll keep that as plan B. But I’d like to try my own hoof at figuring this out. Princess Celestia showed a lot of faith in me by making me a princess, and I’d hate to run back to her like a helpless little filly every time there’s a problem.”
“Twilight?”
“But it is a good thing you got the ink, because I just found an interesting essay about that Crooked Hoof fellow. You know, the artist? Apparently he—”
“Twilight!”
Twilight gave a start, turning to look at her assistant and only then noticing that somepony else—or somezebra else, rather—was there as well.
“Oh, Zecora!” She grinned sheepishly, standing up to face them. “I'm sorry. I was kind of off in my own little world, there.”
“There is nothing to forgive, dear Twilight,” Zecora smiled sweatily. “Though, I’d like a word with you, if I might.”
“Oh, certainly. Is it about the Graying? Because, if so, I want you to know that I’ve been looking into it.” She adopted the same awkward smile she’d grown accustomed to wearing whilst performing her princessly duties. “Everything will be back to normal as soon as possible, so—”
“I come not to be consoled, but to assist,” Zecora interrupted with as much grace as she could. “In the hopes that this problem may desist. I believe I’ve made a discovery that may aid in the color’s recovery!”
Twilight’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh.” Then, she smiled eagerly, leaving forward on her hooves. “What is it? Anything you have to tell me would be helpful.”
Zecora looked across the library, then turned imploring eyes to her host. “Do you mind if we sit, so that I may rest a bit?”
“Oh! By all means,” Twilight said, indicating a couple of floor cushions in one of the reading areas. “Would you like some tea?” she asked as they took a seat.
“Very grateful I’d be,” Zecora said, wincing as she sat.
Twilight gave Spike a meaningful look, and with a nod the dragon ran off to the kitchen. She turned back to Zecora, waiting as patiently as she could while the zebra massaged her hooves and caught her breath. Finally: “So, what can you tell me? Do you have a clue of some kind?”
Zecora nodded. “My tale begins last night, which I spent observing the Dreaming Lights.”
“The… Dreaming Lights?”
“Forgive me. That is the name in zebra astrology for the shower you call the Haizum-Shabdiz. Many legends speak of this shower, so I stayed up late to observe its power. And indeed, I detected a magical force, but went to sleep thinking it had run its course.” Her eyes drifted to the side, into the distance, as if looking through the walls. “Then late last night, I woke with a start, with a feeling of dread in my heart. In the distance I heard a thunderous crash, and saw through the window a bright, fiery flash.”
Twilight leaned forward, eyes wide as she listened. Spike came in as Zecora continued speaking, carrying a tea service.
“In the morning, all the colors were gone, and I went out to find what was wrong. I assumed the two events were likely connected, and found it was much as I’d suspected. Deep in the forest, I found a ruined site, and there, I believe, is what took color from our sight.”
“What is it? Do you know?”
Zecora regretfully shook her head. “I’m afraid I did not tarry. I’ll admit, I was feeling quite wary. I ran to Ponyville as quick as I could, assuming you’d know better than I would.”
Twilight mulled all of this over, eyes searching to the side. “Hmm… I wonder…” She looked back at Zecora, her expression all business. “Can you take me there?”
Zecora gave a nod without hesitation.
“Alright.” Twilight stood, rejuvenated, downing her tea in one shot. “Thank you so much for coming here, Zecora. Just let me grab a few things, and we can get going. You just rest up and finish your tea while we pack.”
Twilight grabbed a saddlebag in her magic and began stuffing various items into it—a few books, a roll of parchment, a quill or two, one of the new bottles of ink, and other such items. Spike, for his part, was far more practical, packing food and water and a few blankets. Once his knapsack was packed, he ran to Twilight’s side.
“Want me to get the others?” he asked.
Twilight froze, staring straight ahead.
Spike gave her a moment, then prompted: “Well?”
“No.”
Spike’s expression morphed into something slightly confused.
Twilight raised her eyes, looking out a window to the gray sky outside. “There’s no need, really. I’m sure they have other things going on, and I wouldn’t want to just swoop in and whisk them away. Besides, it’s not like this is some saving-the-world kind of deal. The Graying may be weird, but it’s not exactly a threat.”
Spike watched her closely. “Are you sure, Twilight? You heard them this morning. They said they’d be glad to help however they can.”
“Yes, I remember what they said, Spike. But I think you, Zecora, and I can figure this out. The six of us don’t have to get together every time something needs to be done.”
Spike’s ear fins drooped, but he gave a small nod nonetheless.
Twilight buckled her saddlebag and levitated it onto her back, struggling to find a comfortable fit with her new wings. She turned to Zecora, who had watched the whole exchange with some uncertainty.
“You ready to go?” she asked the zebra.
Draining the last of her tea from the cup, Zecora stood and nodded.
The trio made their way out the door, Twilight using her magic to turn off all the lights. She closed and locked the door behind them, then hung from the door a sign reading:
“Closed. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
* * * *
Rainbow Dash didn’t quite know what to do with herself. All around her, animals of every kind imaginable milled about, filling Fluttershy’s cottage with noise and motion like a living sea of agitation. A possum scurried under her seat, and a bat occasionally buzzed her ear. Worst of all was the squirrel, sitting on the table in front of her, staring at her with its black, beady eyes.
Fluttershy, working at the kitchen counter, seemed oblivious to the mayhem, with the sole exception of the strands of hair sticking out from her disheveled mane.
“It was awfully nice of the weather team to give you the rest of the day off,” the timid pegasus said through a crumbling artifice of cheer.
“Uh-huh.” Rainbow tried to ignore the squirrel, fidgeting in her seat. But it just sat there—unmoving, unblinking.
“Well, here you go,” Fluttershy said, turning from the counter and setting a plate with a single sandwich in front of Rainbow before taking her seat at the other side of the table. “Are you sure you don’t want something else?”
“This’ll be plenty. Thanks, Flutters.” She picked up the sandwich and opened wide to take a bite. She noticed the squirrel out of the corner of her eye, and stopped. “Uh, could you get that thing to quit staring at me? It’s starting to freak me out.”
Fluttershy gave the squirrel a reproachful look. “Now, it’s not polite to stare, Nuthaniel. Run along, and let our guest eat her lunch in peace.”
The squirrel continued to stare for a moment, then started to walk away on its hind legs, never taking its eyes off Rainbow even as it stepped out of the room and out of view. Rainbow shuddered as if from a cold breeze, then sighed with relief and returned to her lunch.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a bite and continuing to talk as she chewed. “Seems like you have your hooves full here. What’s wrong with all the critters?”
“Oh, I wish I knew…” She extended a hoof, allowing a small bird to perch on it. She gave it a small nuzzle, but it flew away in a hurry. “They all seem so nervous.”
“You think the Graying is scaring them?”
“I wouldn’t think so. For one thing, not all animals can see color. Besides, they started acting like this yesterday, before the Graying even started. That’s why I didn’t go to the meteor shower.”
“Oh, right…” Rainbow swallowed her mouthful and set the rest of the sandwich down. “The meteor shower…”
Fluttershy smiled weakly. “Have you been feeling as guilty as I have?”
“Probably more. It's not like I have any animals to be worried about, after all.”
Fluttershy shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Do you, um… Have you had any ideas of how we could make it up to Twilight?”
“Not really…”
Fluttershy watched as Rainbow poked at the remains of her sandwich with an idle hoof. She bit her lip, searching for something to say. Finally, she settled for the first thing that came to mind:
“Are you feeling alright, Rainbow? You don’t seem yourself.”
Rainbow met her eyes. “What gave it away?” she asked, raising a hoof to flick at her colorless mane.
Fluttershy’s ears drooped.
“I’m just…” Rainbow began, then sighed. “It feels wrong, you know? I feel wrong. Like I’m really not myself, somehow. Not looking like this, anyway. And yeah, I know, ‘they’re just colors’, but… they’re a part of who I am! I’m Rainbow Dash. But now, it’s like a whole part of me’s been erased. Now, it’s like I’m just ‘Dash’.” She lay her chin on the table. “And I don’t feel like dashing around much, either.”
Without a word, Fluttershy got up, walked around the table, and gave Rainbow a hug, her voice muffled by Rainbow’s chest as she spoke.
“Please don’t say that, Rainbow. You’re more than your colors, I promise. I’m friends with a pony, not a set of pigments. I became friends with a pony who’s strong and brave and loyal, a pony who brings out the best in everyone!” She pulled away to look at Rainbow’s face, but the other pegasus wouldn’t meet her eyes. She continued, regardless: “Do you remember how we met? At flight camp, when you stood up for me against those bullies?”
Rainbow nodded, and Fluttershy thought she caught the beginnings of a smirk on her lips.
“I looked up to you so much. For the longest time, I wished that I could be more like you. So assertive and in-control. I can understand you being unsettled by this whole situation—I am, too—but please don’t let it bring you down, Rainbow Dash. Something this superficial could never change the fact that you’re a great pony. A great friend.”
Rainbow listened to her words, but something inside her resisted them. She caught something out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head a little to look. A large shadow moved across Fluttershy’s garden, cast by some winged thing flying somewhere above them.
“I don’t feel like such a great friend…” She hated how quiet her voice was. Like Fluttershy’s, except stripped of all warmth and vitality.
“Rainbow…” Fluttershy put a hoof on her shoulder. “Please, stop it. Why are you being so hard on yourself? Do you think Twilight would want that?”
“Well,” a coldness dancing across her eyes, “maybe what Twilight wants isn’t what I deserve.”
Fluttershy’s mouth opened and closed, only managing to say, “R-Rainbow, I…”
Rainbow stood suddenly, walking toward the door. “I appreciate you trying to make me feeling better, Fluttershy. Really, it’s sweet of you.” She put a hoof on the knob and opened the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Thanks again for the lunch.”
“You don’t have to go.” Fluttershy took a step toward her. “Please stay.”
Rainbow turned to her, haloed by gray sunlight. “Thanks for the offer, but I gotta run. My schedule’s packed as it is.” Her smile was a pitiful facsimile of confidence.
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, then stood still, her hoof still on the knob as she looked at the ground.
Inside the cottage, Fluttershy sniffled, turning her gaze to Rainbow’s unfinished sandwich. A crashing sound from her living room made her jump, and she galloped to investigate, barely noticing the squirrel that continued to stare at the back door.
* * * *
Twilight, Spike, and Zecora slowly made their way across the grass, the edge of the Everfree Forest standing like a living wall before them. They paused and stared into the trees, the grayness somehow making the woods seem darker, less inviting.
Twilight raised a hoof and rubbed the base of her horn, the morning’s headache giving another twinge. “Well, I guess this is it,” she muttered.
“G-great…” Spike said, clinching his claws more tightly around the straps of his knapsack.
They all made to continue walking, but then froze as the quiet of the field was gradually interrupted. A faint noise grew in frantic, primal crescendo, starting as white noise but soon enough distinguishing itself as a veritable army of terrified voices.
“What’s that sound?” Spike asked, taking an instinctual step back.
As if in answer to his question, countless shapes came into view above the treetops. In a great storm of panic, flock after flock of birds passed over the edge of the Forest and over their heads, more than they could count, all of them heading in a single direction: Away. They nearly blotted out the sun in their multitudes, and the three travelers watched with mouths agape. It took some minutes for the wave of birds to pass, and then silence returned to the edge of the woods.
“What was that all about?” Twilight breathed.
“They seemed scared.”
“I saw much like it on my way to town,” Zecora spoke up. “Creatures fleeing or hunkered down. I’ve witnessed such all morning, and fear that it may be a warning.”
“Of what?!” Spike asked, looking into the forest with wide eyes.
“Whatever’s caused the Graying, I assume,” Twilight said.
“Indeed. Creatures of the woods can often sense things to which more sapient ones are dense. In my time living in the Everfree, I’ve learned to defer to those wiser than we.”
“So…” Spike pointed behind them with a thumb. “Can we follow them, then?”
Twilight gave him a flat look, and he smiled sheepishly.
“I don’t feel any better about this than you do, Spike, but if we’re gonna get things back to normal, going into those woods is our best bet. If the animals are scared, it’s only a sign that something unnatural is going on in there… unnatural even by Everfree standards.”
“Great. So super, extra-unnatural, then? That’s comforting.”
“Please, my friends, we must make haste,” Zecora implored, stepping forward. “We have miles to go and no time to waste.”
With one final glance amongst themselves, Twilight and Spike followed her lead, drawing near to the edge of the dark forest.
“How long do you think it’ll take us to get there, Zecora?” Twilight asked.
The zebra looked to the sun’s position in the sky. “It is still early afternoon.” She tongued the inside of her cheek, apparently running a few numbers in her head. “We should arrive before the rise of moon.”
“So, wait, let me get this straight…” Spike bit his lip. “We’re going into the already-creepy forest, after it’s gotten so creepy that all the creepy things that live there want to pack up and leave, and we’re going to be there at night?!”
Twilight swallowed and said, “Seems that way…”
“Do not fear, my little friend, I know these woods from end to end. Through them I will lead you true; only the solution is up to the two of you.”
Spike wasn’t convinced. “Can’t you just teleport us there, Twilight?”
She shook her head. “Not without knowing the exact location, or having an image in my mind. Otherwise, I might teleport us into a tree trunk or something. I do have a map.” She turned to Zecora. “If I showed it to you, could you find the exact location?”
“I fear I could only give a guess,” Zecora admitted with drooping ears. “But it might only put us in a bigger mess.”
Spike visibly slumped. “Oh…”
Zecora turned and stepped without fear past the threshold of the trees. With a stiffening of his upper lip, Spike moved to go in after her. But Twilight…
Twilight came to a stop and looked back. There Ponyville lay, her home of the past three years now spread gray across the landscape. Almost like gravestones, she noticed with a shudder. Her mind briefly drifted to five particular ponies scattered throughout that town, and she felt a yearning in her heart for them to be there with her, to give her the strength to do what needed to be done, as they’d done so many times before.
Something in her chest tightened, like a string being pulled taut.
No. She was a princess now. It was her duty to protect the citizens of Equestria. She was the one other ponies turned to now, not the other way around.
Besides, she thought, they have lives of their own. Sooner or later, I’ll have to learn to… do things by myself…
“Uh, Twilight? You okay?”
Twilight gave a start, turning to find Spike standing just past the edge of the trees, watching her with a concerned expression. Twilight took a deep breath, brought a hoof to her chest, and expelled all of it—her doubts, her fears, the niggling voice telling her to turn around and run. She had a job to do. A duty to perform. Turning away from Ponyville, she gave Spike a nod, took a step, and entered the Everfree Forest.