The vines were everywhere! Writhing blue vines slithered around the forest floor, smothering him in scratchy blue leaves. They surrounded him, chasing him left, then right—every which way. There was no escape. The trees were covered in them, slung between the limbs like nettings, waiting to ensnare anything that walked past. And now they had him. Trying to cure the world, he’d created a monster. One without a mind to reason, or a heart to change. The perfect killer, without pity or mercy or anything but the most basic functions of life to drive it forward. The vines were closing in now. They grabbed at his hooves, and he fought to shake them off.
“No! You’ll not have me! I’ll die first!”
But death would be too welcome. No, he was headed for a far worse fate. They had his legs now, and began twisting and snaking their way up along his body. Now came the stretching. They pulled in all four directions, until he was laid out like a leaf to be blown into the wind. His legs stretched and stretched, further until he could no longer feel them. They became long and thin, and flat, to the point that he soon became two dimensional. He tried to scream, but his lungs were too far collapsed to hold any air.
Joints popped, ligaments stretched, bones were pulled from their sockets. The pain grew until finally his skin broke, and he shattered into hundreds of small leaflets of filament. Leaves! He floated away in the wind, only to be snatched up by the greedy vines, imprisoned upon the net-like webbing by the force of the breeze blowing through the shadowed grove. Bits of him slipped through and got caught on the trees, but the vines came and wrapped thick layers around him, until he could no longer see through them. He knew what was coming next, and only wished he had seen it coming sooner.
~ ~ ~
Twilight rolled up the letter, tying it with a green ribbon and placing it in her saddlebag. It would be faster to send the letter to Sweetie Belle through magic, but there was something about the concept of paper mail that just felt more… intimate. Besides, it would be good incentive for the filly to work on the spell for transferring letters. After all, a link had to be set at both locations, and what kind of teacher would Twilight be if she did the work meant for her student to learn?
Twilight chuckled as she caught herself still thinking of Sweetie Belle as a filly. It had been years since she’d finally realized her talent had been singing all along, and she’d since gone on to outshine even the once renowned Sapphire Shores.
She trotted down the wooden steps from her study. Sweetie Belle had come a long way since she first wandered in with her two friends, asking for help with their special skills. Her heart thumped a bit more prominently as she remembered their long hours of learning in the library. “Twilight Time”, they had called it.
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had stopped coming more and more as they’d come of age, and Sweetie Belle had tours to go on, but she was the only one of the trio who still wrote Twilight every week, admirably devoted to her magical studies in addition to just singing enhancement spells.
Twilight entered the main lobby of the library, eyes closed in nostalgic gaiety.
“TWILIGHT!”
She didn’t know whether she’d tripped down the last flight of stairs, or if she’d been tackled to the floor and both parties had rolled down the stairs, but judging by the pink mane in her face and the unmistakable shout she’d just heard, Twilight was pretty sure it was the latter.
“Unnnngh. Hi, Pinkie,” Twilight groaned. Her friend climbed off of her, letting her up.
“Twilight. I’m so glad you’re here.” Twilight had no sooner gotten up, she was hugged again, although not flattened this time. “Have you seen Ink Blot?”
Twilight looked closely at her friend’s face. Pinkie still had most of her youthful energy left, but she had slowed down a bit with age. Still, that didn’t explain the new lines under her eyes, or the tightly drawn eyebrows and water filled eyelids. Worse yet was the lack of Pinkie’s famous, everlasting smile. Of course, Twilight had seen her friend frown before, but that was on the rare occasions where her neurotic attachment to her friends had led her into some stressful and disheartening circumstances. The only reason Pinkie would be frowning now was…
“What happened this time?”
Pinkie’s face seemed to tighten and wrinkle at the same time, as though she were trying very hard not to cry.
“Oh, nothing, she’s just… I haven’t seen her all day and I kinda miss her so I went to look for her and I can’t find her anywhere! I even checked with Fluttershy and she wasn’t there. Mackie says he hasn’t seen her since this morning either, but that I really shouldn’t worry about it.” She sniffed, eyes staring at something just past Twilight’s head. “But I can’t not worry about her; she’s my favorite little me, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”
Beads of sweat formed on Pinkie’s forehead and her pupils shrank.
Twilight groaned inwardly. The filly had been the highlight of Pinkie’s life back when she’d had her, but things were not as they used to be. Ink Blot and her mother were almost constantly at odds, and Pinkie had come to see Twilight during a few of their more virulent bouts.
This must be one of those bouts. Twilight got the sense that Pinkie wasn’t worried about physically losing her daughter, as much as emotionally. Twilight pulled up a cushion for both of them and called for Spike, who appeared dutifully and swiftly.
“I’m here,” he said, appearing through the door to the kitchen. “What did you need?”
“Could you fetch us some tea, please? With double extra sugar in one of them?” Twilight instructed, nodding politely. Spike nodded in acknowledgement and vanished back through the same door. Mentally preparing herself, Twilight exhaled, and turned her now undivided attention to her friend.
“Alright, Pinkie. Just try to relax. We’re not going to get anywhere if you can’t focus. Tell me about Ink Blot. What’s she been up to lately?”
Her friend was silent for a few moments, still staring off into space. Her lip trembled, and Twilight could see tears beginning to form in her eyes. Her mane drooped a little, tipping Twilight off to what was about to happen. The pressure built, and Pinkie burst into tears, throwing herself into Twilight’s waiting hooves.
“I don’t know!” She sobbed. “I… I just don’t know.” Pinkie’s mane fell over Twilight’s shoulders in long, silky ribbons as she cried deep sobs. Twilight patted her friend’s back softly, and tilted her head into Pinkie’s.
Pinkie cried into Twilight’s shoulder for several minutes, and then sat up, sniffling.
“Thanks, Twilight,” she said, finally, rubbing tears from her eyes. Gone was the joyful, exuberant pony Twilight had known half of her life. Her tears were spent, but there was no energy left in Pinkie’s movements as she looked up through bloodshot eyes.
“I—I really don’t know where I went wrong,” she started. “Things were so great when she was just a foal. I could just hug and cuddle her, and she’d giggle right back.” The faintest of smiles graced Pinkie’s face as she spoke about Ink Blot’s early years. “It reminded me of Pumpkin and Pound Cake. Babysitting every week or so. Having a foal so far was everything I’d thought it would be.
“I was so proud of her, the day she got her cutie mark. I always knew she’d be a great artist. Mackie and I both knew. The day she was born, she…” Pinkie’s lip trembled. “ She was so beautiful. A work of art. She had my face, but his eyes.” Pinkie let out a short laugh. “I thought it was a clever joke, calling her Ink Blot, like the psychology test, but Mackie said it would be a good name, like abstract paintings.”
The smile vanished, and Pinkie stared at the ground between her hooves. “But somewhere along the line, I must have done something wrong. She doesn’t love me the way she used to.” More tears began dripping from the tip of her snout. “She just wants to be left alone. I thought maybe if I got her things to show how much I loved her, she’d notice. I bought her her own paint brush set, and she loved it… but not me. I asked Mackie to build her a nice big room like she wanted. She was so excited, she even helped build it. But I had my party business to work on. I wasn’t able to help and I…” Pinkie’s eyes threatened to overflow again. “She won’t speak to me. Not more than to tell me to leave her alone. I’ve tried everything. She doesn’t want me to hug her. She hates when I ask her how she’s doing. I even tried buying her an entire color palette of industrial size paint buckets. And she loves them, but I didn’t get so much as a ‘thank you’ hug.”
Pinkie’s eyes were now shut tight, failing to stem the tears that were once again streaming down her cheeks. She looked about to fall over, and Twilight leaned in to hug her again. She didn’t move. She just sat there, crying through short breaths. Another five minutes passed. Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to say, but with Pinkie, open ears and a closed mouth were usually a safe bet, with hugs where needed.
“She—” Pinkie gulped. “I never know where she is anymore. She doesn’t want me to speak to her, or look at her or, or… I just don’t know how to let her know that I love her. I thought if I just left her alone, like she wanted… but that doesn’t work either.”
Pinkie’s hooves found Twilight’s shoulders, gently pushing her to a foreleg’s distance. She looked up, and stared at Twilight with tired, desperate eyes. “I’m just so confused,” she whispered, barely avoiding another sob.
Twilight smiled sympathetically, trying to analyze what Pinkie had just told her. Perhaps there was a solution.
“I thought maybe if I got her things-”
“She was so excited, she even helped build it.”
“I wasn’t able to help-”
“She won’t speak to me.”
“I didn’t get so much as a ‘thank you’ hug”
“Pinkie?” Twilight asked.
“Hmm.” Pinkie had returned to staring at the ground while Twilight was thinking, and now looked up.
“Have you tried spending time with her?”
Pinkie blinked, then her head sagged. “I can’t. I don’t have the time. The party business is doing so well, I can hardly finish any of my projects before Inky has to go to bed.” She let out a long, ragged sigh.
“Well, how about Big Mac? Does he spend time with her?”
Pinkie’s face materialized inches in front of Twilight’s before she had time to blink. “Yes! All the time! That’s the problem!” She sat back again, and looked off into space through watery eyes. “She spends so much time with him, and they seem so happy. I thought if I just kept my distance, and talked to Mackie about how she was doing, I could care for her from a distance, and everything would be okay. But I just can’t…”
She looked back at Twilight with the same teary expression from before. “Please, Twilight, tell me what to do. I… I just want to hug my daughter, and get one back.” Her face contorted and she burst into dry sobs. Twilight reached out and put a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder, then drew her slowly into another hug.
“You know. I’ve never really been good with relationships. I didn’t even have any real friends before I came to Ponyville, and even then you had to show me how to laugh and smile. When I was a filly, I had trouble relating to my dad. He was never around much either, but he always brought home books when he visited. He always hugged me before he left, but I was always mad at him for leaving.”
Twilight spoke softly, but clearly, focusing on every relevant detail. “But he and mom were so close, and I knew he couldn’t hate me, since he was never mad at me while he was home.” She nearly shed a tear herself as she recalled her father’s rare visits and gifts.
“But mom and I always read books together. We never talked much. We just sat on the couch and read books next to each other. And anytime we found something we liked, we’d bring it up, and laugh about it. We were reading together.” She smiled at the thought of her mother’s laugh.
“You’ve been saying that Ink Blot didn’t want to talk, and that she didn’t want to hug you. Maybe she’s just not fond of physical touch, or conversation. You said she liked your gifts, but didn’t thank you for them. I know I enjoyed my dad’s gifts, but they lacked substance, and were a poor substitute for some quality time.” Twilight thought hard, trying to find the point she was making. Pinkie could have been sleeping, if not for her short breaths every second or two.
“I think... I think that…. we all express love differently... and maybe Ink Blot just responds better to time spent together, than to gifts, words, or physical touch.” Twilight leaned Pinkie back so she could look her in the eyes. “Try to spend time with her. Take her to the park. Go for a swim. Do something! And just… slow down.”
Pinkie, in the state she was in, looked pitiable in the extreme . Her eyes were dried and bloodshot, her ears clung to the side of her head, along with her mane, and her mouth formed a small flat line beneath her nose. She stared blankly at Twilight, unmoving.
“But what if she doesn’t want to? She won’t. She doesn’t want to talk to me, and she’s always somewhere else. She hates having me around.”
Twilight stayed silent for a long minute. Pinkie was right. The little filly rarely stuck around long when her mother came through town. Trying to spend time together now might be too little too late. But doing nothing wouldn’t solve anything either.
“All you can do is try.”
Pinkie continued playing statue for another minute. Then, slowly, very slowly, Pinkie’s mane rose. Her cheeks rose as well, drawing the corners of her mouth with them. She leaned forward and pulled Twilight into a tight hug. The rest of her mane smacked Twilight in the face as it quickly reclaimed its full volume.
“You’re right. I can’t give up on her, even if she’s given up on me,” Pinkie murmured, softly.
“So, tea?”
Twilight and Pinkie separated, both turning toward Spike’s voice. He was standing not three feet away, holding two steaming cups of tea, with a full teapot balanced on his head.
“How long have you been standing there?” Twilight asked, frowning. She had somehow completely missed his entrance.
“Oh, somewhere around the…” Spike looked around, as though searching for something other than the truth. “... hugging,” he finished. “Tea?”
~ ~ ~
Pinkie and Twilight finished their tea amidst a far more casual conversation, before Pinkie headed off to search for Ink Blot again. Twilight wished her luck, then looked around for what she’d been doing before Pinkie barged in.
“You were about to deliver a letter of some sort, I think,” Spike provided.
“Oh. Of course.” Twilight pulled out the letter to Sweetie Belle. “Thanks, Spike.”
“Don’t mention it.” He picked up a broom and began sweeping the library.
Twilight trotted out the door and deposited the letter in her mailbox, flipping the little purple flag up. The Mailpony would be sure to get the message to Sweetie Belle. Now to figure out how to spend the rest of her day. There were some new books in she wanted to organize, or she could read the next installment of The Dragon’s Journal. Rainbow Dash had invited her to a bonfire later that night, but the last time that had happened...
Twilight shook her head, dismissing the thought. She decided instead to catch up on some reading. It was a nice quiet day, and she could use the relaxation.
“Twilight!”
Or… not. Twilight turned around to see Apple Bloom charging down the street at a full gallop.
“Twilight come quick. We’ve got a major problem over by Zecora’s!” She skidded to a stop right next to Twilight, nudging her forward insistently.
“Woah, hey, slow down!” Twilight protested. She dug in her hooves but had little effect against Apple Bloom’s strong legs. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain on the way,” Apple Bloom replied. “Come on. We’ve got to hurry!”
Twilight obliged and the two of them took off toward the Everfree. She’d forgotten just how far it was to Zecora’s. Twilight usually teleported long distances if she was ever in a hurry, but that took a great deal of effort and concentration. She could manage that right now, but there was also the issue of whatever it was Apple Bloom was trying to warn her about, which could possibly be a delicate situation. Twilight didn’t imagine that diving right into the middle of an unknown crisis was a logical move. It would be easier to simply listen, and let Apple Bloom explain herself.
“Alright, Apple Bloom. What’s going on at Zecora’s that requires my immediate attention?”
“Poison joke,” Apple Bloom replied without turning her head. Twilight raised an eyebrow.
“Poison joke requires my immediate attention?”
“Yes.”
Twilight almost pulled up. Almost. But Apple Bloom wasn’t an unreasonable mare, and certainly not one to try a hoax.
“I hope you’re going to explain why before we get there,” Twilight remarked.
“It’s that scary stuff from that one time. Remember the herbalist that came to town? The one who died two days later?”
For a moment, Twilight faltered, nearly tripping over her own hooves, but she managed to maintain her balance.
“I… ” She struggled to push the memory away. “I try to forget,” she finally said, shaking her head.
“Well, it’s back. At least I think it is.”
No. That horror could not be allowed to revisit Ponyville. It had taken a forbidden spell from Celestia’s private library to get rid of it last time.
“What do you mean ‘you think’?”
“I mean I think I saw some? Actually, Ink Blot did.”
“Well, did you get a good look at it?” Surely it couldn’t be the same plant. Apple Bloom was just mistaken. That had to be it.
“No. I couldn’t find it, but she pointed to the same spot it was last time. I really don’t want to take chances. She’s my niece, and if I’m right, we’ve only got until tomorrow to stop it.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do? Zecora said there wasn’t a cure, remember?”
“Yet, Twilight! There wasn’t a cure yet! But we’ve got to find one.” Twilight could see tears coming from her friend’s eyes. They pulled to a stop just outside the Everfree. “I won’t let what happened to him happen to her!”
Twilight couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her; Apple Bloom had shared a common ground with the poor pony, being a fan of experimental herbology herself. She also couldn’t keep down a pang of empathy at not wanting to let another pony meet the same fate. However, it was absolutely ridiculous to jump at shadows like this without even seeing the plant first.
“Apple Bloom, calm down. I think you’re over-reacting just a bit here. We haven’t even seen the plant.” Twilight hoped her doubts were not just her own way of denying her fears.
The pain on Applebloom’s face sharpened instantly, and she glared at Twilight through tear-streaked eyes. Twilight put a hoof over her face.
“Alright, fine, I’ll work on it. Come on, let’s get to Zecora’s.”