Oh, Starswirl.
Twilight swallowed. Cadence opened the door herself and entered.
“Twilight, I’m sorry, but I’m serious. I can explain later. I have somepony contacted who will look after Aloysius and Peewee while you're away. Go get Spike and pack some food and let’s go.” Twilight nodded dimly. On numb hooves, feeling as if her insides had gone permanently cold and solid, she took the stairs two at a time.
Spike was on his side, the covers partially kicked off in sleep, a bent-paged comic book fanned out just below the bed. Twilight tried to take in the mundanity of the sight, as she had a sinking feeling that such would become rare quickly and soon, but it was too late. She was already suppressing the taut panic that had yet only to push the tears over the edge.
There had to be a logical explanation.
She roused him with a hoof.
“What? Twilight, isn’t it a little early for…” Then his drowsy green eyes caught the clock and widened. “Hey, shouldn’t it be light out by now? Is your clock off?”
“Spike, Princess Cadence is here. We have to go with her. I’m not a hundred percent sure what’s going on here, but it has to do with Celestia and something tells me that doing what Cadence says is the best option until we can figure out what the problem is.” Even in the dark, his pupils had narrowed to lines.
“It...it probably isn’t much, right? We’ll be home again soon?” he asked. An impatient shuffling noise came from downstairs. Twilight took a deep breath.
“I’m not sure.” He was too old to be lied to. Had been for far longer than she’d been willing to admit to herself.
Spike nodded and, stripped of all half-asleep peace, tossed off his cover and wrapped it up.
“Good idea--we’ll need blankets.” Twilight levitated her own and together with their burdens, the two descended again.
Cadence was pacing by now, worry having buried itself into her face. Twilight noticed for the first time that her eyes had a slight reddish tint, not to mention the sleepy dark circles she seemed to be fighting.
“There you are,” she said. “I’ve gathered what non-perishables I’ve been able to find” --she nodded towards a few cans and sacks of oats-- “and they should be enough to last the three of us a couple weeks or so. Now, I--I don’t know how long--”
“Hold on.” Twilight’s voice shook with disbelief. “What about my friends? What about Shining Armor? If…” She winced. “If the changelings...if Celestia has been replaced, aren’t they all in danger?” The look on Cadence’s face then was like the entrance to Tartarus: so deep and black and ancient that nopony could see the bottom or comprehend what might be lurking there.
“Twilight,” Cadence began. Then her mouth closed and she glanced down. Ruffled her feathers. A small smile, for which Twilight was grateful despite herself, shone out of the abyss.
“Get your saddlebags. We can talk later.”
It turned out they were going to hide in the Everfree.
Twilight did not like this idea at all. And she was still waiting for an explanation.
However, as the little timepiece in her saddlebag struck seven thirty, she couldn’t deny that something big was wrong, and Cadence most likely knew how to fix the problem better than she did. The strange parade westward into the eerie forest, smelling of earth and decay, with the ponies’ saddlebags shifting from side to side over their flanks and Spike’s claws trodding erratically between them, was like a flashback to Twilight’s foal days: Cadence knows best. Follow her and you’ll stay out of trouble.
Except that back then, Twilight had at least had her fillyhood to blame for her lack of wisdom. Now she felt only fuming resentment over being constantly stuck in Ponyville. She would never want to be separated from her friends all the time, of course, but if only she had been in Canterlot when whatever happened...did, she could have figured out how to be part of the solution rather than the ignorant burden she was now.
She shook her head. Here was where she found herself, and she had to make the most of the situation. However, one thing was for sure: Twilight Sparkle did not abandon her friends, and she was only going to last so long before demanding to know why she was being put into hiding and they, apparently, weren’t.
Wrapped up in thought, she hardly noticed when Cadence slowed to a stop in front of her. Twilight’s ears swiveled and her jaw clenched. Was there a threat, something she hadn’t seen?
But candleglow was already flickering in the shapes of windows before them. It opened itself against the silhouette of a zebra. Twilight didn’t think she’d been more relieved in all her life. She took a step toward the cottage, but Cadence shot her a look. Confused, chilly, and increasingly ticked that nopony was explaining anything, Twilight backed down.
Then, slowly, barely, Zecora’s head shook.
“Are you sure?” Cadence asked calmly.
“O princess mine
I built this home
To keep me safe
and dry and warm
No easy effort
I paid the price
and while it may
Be my last vice
Even if
The sky does crash
Even if
I fall in ash
I’ll keep this house
Defending them
Until I breathe my last.”
Cadence turned, nodded, and, head low, led them away. Spike followed closely, but Twilight lingered for a moment, eyes locked on the grave blue gaze she could not make out against the lit house. “War”-- a mythical, cosmic type of fight--brought out the best in some ponies and the worst in others, her father had always told her.
Zecora was talking like there was going to be a war.
Chilled now by more than just the unnatural night air, Twilight moved on.