//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: To Light a Candle // Story: Pride Goeth // by Zurock //------------------------------// Despite the fatigue buried deep inside his bones and the constant distraction of his complaining hunger, Prideheart soldiered on down the road. The countryside wasn't painted in lush greens, nor was it dotted by the vibrant delight of flowers. Everything far and vast resembled dull, tough, dry earth. The scarce trees and their sparse leaves, the wide patches of reeds and grass, the low tangles of shrubs; they all were colored like tawny stone. The hardy landscape was an old picture long-faded by time and sunlight. Not far out from Stony Nook the land gently began to move up and down, rising and dipping with the final ripples of the foothills coming down from the Pearl Peaks. The mountains themselves were still many distant miles ahead, silently watching over the countryside from their western perch high above the horizon. What a bizarre coincidence that, after those craggy mountains had nearly killed him days early, Prideheart found himself lumbering back towards them. The road didn't wander far from the river; they followed each other like faithful companions. Around Stony Nook the river had been so broad, quiet, and calm, like a lake curved about a corner post, but the further from the village the stallion went, the more the water narrowed. It began to chatter; quite noisily, before long. At its worst it lashed and foamed, angrily crashing about its most uneven bends, but nowhere was it ever truly a monster. The river's undercurrent wouldn't have devoured any but the poorest of swimmers, and anypony who could at least paddle stably could have swam themselves across it, or even have simply let the current float them down to Stony Nook. Over time, the riverbank opposite the roadside began to climb rapidly. What once had been a mirrored view of open country became a jagged, vertical cliff face. How high the cliff reached varied from place to place, but overall it steadily grew with distance, getting as tall as three to four stories. It was as if the mountains' roots had chosen one side of the river over the other. Eventually, more than an hour into Prideheart's journey, the dirt road finally did abandon the river; or perhaps it was the upstream river which had no more need for friends. The ground bulged more than before as the road wore on by itself, taking greater influence from the coming hills. More rocks made their homes in the increasingly heavy earth, crowding out some of the dry grass, yet somehow regardless a sparse forest managed to sprout up to replace the missing river. The trees themselves were robust, with granitelike bark about their trunks and mighty roots that dug past the stone-choked surface to lick the richer soil underneath. Their leaves looked less stout, all parched, shrunken, and patchy, but they tenaciously clung to life with the same resilience as the land that was their home. Each tree was a bit of an unneighborly, solitary creature, selfishly needing all they room they could hoard in order to survive, but all the trees in the thin forest had each other's begrudging respect. It was a forest more like a quiet weekday at a diner, more than every other booth vacant. Another whole hour on, the road still weaved gently up and down, and the loose-knit forest lingered on Prideheart's right as he plodded along. The stallion was satisfied that he had never resorted to limping, not even once. The aches and pains had spoken their piece plenty before having finally given up and settled, waiting for a better moment. Even the void in his stomach had taken to only grousing quietly to itself. Thankfully the long trail of pawprints which Prideheart followed hadn't been erased by wind or time. All the signs of dripping water had ceased quite some ways back, but the road nonetheless kept an articulate record of the hound's flight. Stamped in the dirt were clear indents that still ran rapidly westward, as they had from the very start at Stony Nook. The beast had never once changed course or lost his pounding haste. Not long after, something new was added to the roadway scenery. An addition both ominous and unnatural. Prideheart slowed. A mound of wooden debris laid forsaken in the reeds which sprouted up about the small stretch of rocky earth separating road and forest. At first it seemed to be nothing more than a derelict wagon; the kind that can be hitched and hauled by a single strong pony. Even from a distance it was plain to see that it had broken down in some fashion. Perhaps, Prideheart guessed, it had been abandoned on the roadside as dead weight because of an unrepairable wheel or some other such common trouble. Only once he was close did he see how violently its skeleton had been splintered, in a brutal number of places; grotesque damage beyond the extent of a mere broken wheel. Moreover, there weren't any signs that nature had begun to reclaim the wreckage: no young weeds playfully climbing over it, no termite-hollowed homes, nor even any carnivorous rot biting at the wood. It was not an ancient gravesite. Rather, it was the grisly scene of a fresh wagon murder. Quickly something came to Prideheart's recall: the ponies of Stony Nook had whispered rumors about attacks on this very westward road. Beyond doubt this was a site of one such strike, only days old at the most. And likely, therefore, it had something to do with the monster hound. He set about inspecting the vicious aftermath. The bed of the doomed wagon was more or less in one piece (mostly less), but it was overturned and empty of cargo. One of the two axles had been snapped and discarded beside the bed. The other axle was missing entirely, lost or buried somewhere further out. All four wheels had been torn off and scattered, and not one of them was round anymore. Cracked, bent, split; many of the spokes had been ripped out and flung about. Only some of the wagon's hitch was present, and like so many other things it was in several pieces. A few bits of it still lay dropped on the road itself, sprinkled back in the direction of Stony Nook. There was little there which was wooden and not covered in bitemarks; some parts were chewed so badly that they had been whittled down into pulpy, deformed twigs. For all the carnage the poor wagon had suffered, the cargo had been savaged worse. At least most of the wagon's remains were still clustered together, but all the destroyed barrels, boxes, and other loose items had been spread in a wide radius. Prideheart felt as if he could have wandered a mile out from the epicenter, in any direction, and still have come across bent boards, rent metal, shredded cloth, and cracked containers. They had been spread like a sack of seeds spilt open in a windy sky. The total amount of damage was sickening and cruel. Far in excess of what any one beast would have ever needed to do. After a minute of exploring the wreckage, an incongruity caught the stallion's notice: There should have been more. More supplies, specifically. For how many destroyed containers there were, the bits and remains of supplies to fill them did not add up. It was possible the wagon had been coincidentally hauling more empty vessels than full ones, but it wasn't safe to dismiss robbery where such thorough destruction had been employed. Some items remained behind in what could have reasonably been their original quantity, though they were all smashed or playfully ravaged in some way: fabrics and blankets shredded into tatters; the heads of rakes and shovels, only in marginally better shape than their broken handles; sharp snowfalls of glass and clay which had once been whole bottles and jugs, splashed dangerously across the earth or hidden in the reeds. But certain other items were assuredly missing. Prideheart took an interest in the ruins of one particular barrel, thrown on its side and cracked apart like the shell of an egg for its yolk. Inside it was completely bare except for the smell of its former contents, still quite strong. Just one sniff plugged the stallion's nose with a pair of sweet, dried strawberries. Greedily he forced the disemboweled barrel open wider, but not a leaf or even a seed remained. Intensely curious, he moved on to a crate which had only three of its six faces intact. Before its death it had been filled to the top with many smaller packages, all identical; something he deduced easily by finding their ripped remains strewn about the immediate area. A few of the packaging scraps still had readable labels: hard, flavored biscuits, from a faraway bakery in Trottingham. Again Prideheart put in a thorough search around the crate, but again not an edible crumb had been left behind. He went on to the next broken container and searched it anxiously. Nothing. And the next. Again, nothing. Box after busted box, barrel after broken barrel; he tore them all apart further but still found no food left behind. With each failed search his stomach grew more and more disgruntled, complaining to him loudly. In his deepest, most murmuring, most foul whispers the stallion argued with his own grumbling belly, insisting that he was searching out of diligence for clues and not scavenging for himself as a plunderer would. But even that lie fell apart swiftly when he severed the loosest side from the final crate and found it empty as well. He gave the piece of board he had pried free a heated, angry toss away. What bitter mockings of fate! A wagon forsaken, once so laden with food it could have fed a small company, yet behind was left not even one nourishing scrap for a starving pony? Gluttonous hound! Corpulent beast! For a long while the sour stallion simmered, standing idle and enduring the protests of his weeping stomach. But in time it finally accepted the hungry reality it faced and halted most of its tears, bothering Prideheart less with only its famished sniffles. Glum, but governing his self-pitying anger, the stallion returned to the road so that he might resume the hunt. Only he couldn't find the beast's trail again. Ready to begin his marching anew, he looked down at the dirt and realized that he saw nothing to follow. There were no pawprints anymore. Confused and suspicious, he stepped to one side of the road and followed anyway, scanning carefully as he went. The wrecked wood and tattered supplies dwindled into nothing after only a few dozen yards, but nowhere along the way did a single pawprint appear, not retreating or approaching. Prideheart doubled back. On the road immediately neighboring the wagon debris there was a horrendous amount of disturbed dirt, but no clear markings. The recent ambush had obliterated the road's fertile ground to the point that it wouldn't remember any travelers for some time to come. The wind would need weeks to meticulously smooth the dust flat so that it could once again keep records. However, back the way Prideheart had originally come from, the same pawprints he had first followed were still there. The trail ran up to the ambush, but not out of it. The stallion turned painfully around and followed the pawprints towards the ambush site once more. He counted the marks in the dirt, one by one, hoping desperately he had made some kind of simple error in tracking them, but again they shot into the unreadable mess of disrupted dirt and did not appear out the other side. Prideheart crawled to a stop. Lifelessly he stood. His blank stare watched the empty road stretch far away towards the mountainous horizon. It made no sense. The attack on the wagon was fresh, but not that fresh. There was no way the fleeing hound had interrupted his escape to have mauled and ransacked an unfortunate traveler. There hadn't been the time to have done all this damage. But then where? Where had the hound gone? It had run up to the wagon it had days ago destroyed and then... vanished? The ordeal was a worrisome blow to Prideheart's confidence. After all the outraged oratory he had spat at the townsponies of Stony Nook, he needed to learn something about the beast before he returned to them. If he were to have come back in swift defeat... He waded back into the wagon ruins. There had to be a further clue; something to point him towards where the hound had gone. He should have been more vigilant when he had first searched, instead of having greedily rooted about for food! As weak as his own hunger! Bah! Old fool! Once more he searched amidst the broken debris, but he felt hopeless. While the moderate trail of pawprints on the road had been clear enough to have followed even for an inexperienced tracker like himself, the stout clay, rigid stones, and wavy reeds were not nearly as courteous as the dusty road. They needed a far more talented tracker to coax their secrets out. All his untrained eye saw was mangled wood and shattered stores, strewn over grass, weeds, and reeds that had in some places been bent or crushed by- Prideheart blinked. The grass and reeds grew in patches anywhere that they could squeeze between the heavy stones embedded in the earth, and there indeed were small clusters that had been stomped down in the ambush. But near him was a bed of reeds which had been thoroughly flattened; something no amount of furious combat could have leveled with such a clearly defined shape. ...! Here the hound had made his bed! Prideheart dropped his nose close and tasted the air. No foul scent lingered. Nothing at all but earth and grass, and certainly nothing close to the smell of wet dog. It must have been days ago when the hound had laid down and rested there, far enough in the past for his scent to have dissipated. Looking about yet again, this time newly aware, Prideheart quickly spotted more patches of smothered reeds and grass. There were over a dozen such beds. Apparently, after his great feast, the beast had perhaps napped around? His freshly gorged stomach had pushed him to find the perfect place for a small hibernation? Consider: a hound overindulged wakes from his itchy slumber, and then? What first course of action does a beast, full on an enormous banquet and arisen after hours of repose, take to? The stallion thought on it hard, until his good eye turned slowly towards the adjacent forest. Towards the lonely trees and their meager shade. Towards the only nearby place where such a bloated creature would have found at least a modicum of privacy to do their natural business. Prideheart trotted towards the forest's indistinct tree line. Hope welled up in him. Under the trees the stony chunks in the earth were just a tad more looser and lighter, allowing to grow just enough more grass to reveal a faint trail! Dappled here and there were little sections of trampled grass, none as large as the flattened beds next to ambushed wagon, but present enough to see confidently that something heavier than a pony had passed through in recent days. The stallion tried to swallow down any premature sighs of relief. The new trail was a fortunate discovery, but it didn't read nearly as finely as the one on the road, being harder to decipher in both direction and age. There was no telling if the hound he was chasing had gone this way today or if, as his gut told him, this trail was something leftover from after the wagon attack. Regardless, he set his mind to it and pressed beyond the first trees. The trail was all he had. It was no hard trek through the spacious forest. The ground was not terribly uneven, and certainly it was far from rough. Moreover, generous volumes of sunlight pooled beneath the thin canopy, often in whole gallons; rarely did the crowns of any two trees overlap. Progress was slow however, owing to the meticulous care needed to follow the hazy trail. Several times Prideheart almost lost his way, his mind sent adrift in idle daydreaming because of the thin forest. A paltry woods. Infantile against the home more familiar. Decades long in Dryearth Forest he had lived. Strange it was, after so many years, to now be amidst a forest so... bright, and young. The stallion found it difficult to keep his eye down on the trail when all he wanted to do was look up. Memories were trying to break through the fog. After all the years in the heart of Dryearth Forest, he hadn't recalled that woodlands could ever be so quaint. Where were the monstrous trees, taller and thicker than stone towers? Where was the verdure endless, run amok? Where was the sky of black leaves, sewn invincibly shut and holding back every last ray of forsaken sun? Where was the darkness, cold and all-consuming, yielding only to the glow of numbing crystal light? Something about the natural color of the bark under sunlight almost hypnotized him. His memory was too full of tree trunks stained by the gloomy rainbow colors of the magic-eating crystals of Dryearth Forest: the somber, lurking blues; the quietly bleeding reds; the falsely fertile greens... Every crystal beautiful in their ability to have recycled foul magic, and grim in the world of shadows they had illuminated. A world so dry of magic, and without any Sun. A wondrous place where only real strength should have mattered. A way station which should have welcomed safety, and virtue, and unselfish love. ... So evil... ... Please... the shadow lord has now gone... ... Please... at last, he has been taken away... ... Now, please... ... Shine brightly... Fortunately Prideheart's wandering mind didn't veer him off the trail before his nose was pricked by a peculiar and very unsavory scent. Sweet in texture, but overtly foul once it took hold, it caused him to squinch as it assaulted his nostrils. He endured whiffing large gulps of the unpleasant odor until he was sure he had found the direction it was coming from, and then he closed his nose as much as he could and followed. Even without breathing through his nose the undesirable smell grew stronger, confirming that he was heading in the right direction. Quickly it became strong enough to be rather discernible, and right away he made a fair guess as to what the source of the stench was. His certainty only doubled once his ears started to pick up on a rampant, whirring buzz, like hundreds of very tiny saws grinding through wood. Passing a few trees further proved him correct. The hound, after having awoken from his nap, had come into the forest to do what any creature naturally needs to do after such an tremendous meal. And certainly there was a wagon's worth of what the creature did. Numerous piles of the reeking substance were scattered about; enough to make counting them all difficult at a glance. Each mound was also fairly sizable and would have swallowed the hoof and ankle of any unfortunate pony blind enough to have stepped in one. Simply being able to see the lumpy hills of detritus instantly made their odor that much more nauseously repugnant. Whatever infernal gut-fire burned inside the hound's belly had left behind some uniquely putrid waste, like a barbecue gone to rot. Only the noisy army of buzzing flies found any good flavor in the feast. It was almost frightening how much of it there was. All of it combined would have been more than the body weight of the single monster himself. But Prideheart wasn't willing to battle the battalion of jealous flies or endure long the awful stench just to make some up-close observations about the hound's biology. Only pursuing and finding the hound mattered. Breathing as little as he could, Prideheart swiftly searched the area for any continuation of the trail he had been following and, unfortunately, he found nothing. The only marks were the ones that had first led him into the dumping grounds. If there were any further trails, they were too illegible for his untrained eye to read. He was at the same dead-end as before. Quickly he departed, heading back down the same path he had entered from. As soon as he reached cleaner air he took several deep breaths to renew himself, but the crisp new wind in his lungs hardly blew out his frustration. Simmering dimly, all he could think to do was return to the wagon wreckage and search again for anything he might had missed, and so he began to make his way towards the road. His stomach growled. Each hard clop against the earth agitated the aches in his legs. He blinked his eyes, and the dead one prickled as his eyelid washed a layer of slime over it. Underneath there was a painful smolder; his dragon-wound ensuring that its presence was never forgotten. He felt the moans coming from each part of himself. He echoed their sounds. Old... Insufficient... Worthless... Prideheart halted, hitting a sudden whip of a stop. He had not yet exited the forest when his ears snapped up stiff, whispering a warning to him. Moving not one muscle, he peered deep through the spread of trees before him. There was motion ahead. More than anything which mere gentle breezes could do. Somewhere a field's worth down the way, shape and color was moving about between the tree trunks. Subtle stomps and the cracking of twigs came too, growing faintly louder. It was approaching. Precise and perfect, Prideheart lowered himself close to the ground. He floated his hooves along, planting them flat, firm, and softly, making not even the most silence hush of a clop. To the side he retreated, a cloaked shadow soundlessly shifting between the trees until he was able to cover himself in the thickest darkness he could find. At least all those years in the thick brush of Dryearth Forest had be useful in teaching him great stealth. He waited and watched. His pursuer didn't show any overt sign of having detected him or his act of hiding. There was no change in their approach at all. In fact, once they came near enough if was clear that their own efforts to tail him weren't particularly stealthy or careful in the least. They ambled along with all the mellowness of an afternoon stroll, oblivious to the clapping of their steps against the rocks and the crunching of the reeds they pounded over. As the pursuer passed by Prideheart, never once batting an eye in his direction, the stallion slowly emerged from his hiding place. He turned the chase around, pursuing the pursuer, but kept his hooves silent still. The oblivious pursuer didn't catch any gleam of the shadow stalking them. They shuffled on, jaunting through the forest. Not a peep or a rustle broke their illusion of loneliness. Not until Prideheart's hoof came down firmly but carefully upon her tail, snatching her. "Ahhhhhhh-! Oh! Hey, mister! Glad I caught up with you!" Bookworm donned the grandest smile. Prideheart released the little filly's tail and scrutinized her. She was sweating, warm in her face, but it wasn't any product of nervousness. The long two-hour trek over the road had been rather taxing for her young body, but her endless enthusiasm had powered her through with ease. There was so much cheerful vigor pouring off of her that doubtless she could have swam on for two hours more. By the dust smeared over her hooves she had probably been trotting and skipping down the road like it had been a Sunday race. Certainly nowhere in her mind or attitude did she see herself on a dangerous hunt. The only things she was equipped with was her smile, her inexperience, and her school knapsack still slung around her. Had she followed him out this far? Or just the hound's trail, as he had? And how sluggish had he been that a filly had caught up with him? Maybe he had only snuck up on her because of her own unmindfulness, and not because of any skill of his. Old fool... "Young Bookworm," Prideheart had no trouble recognizing her. His kindness was stern; concerned to find her far from home, but relieved to see her again, and for more reason than merely his pursuer not being something more perilous. "Why are you here?" "I came to help!" For such an upbeat reply, the stallion found it somewhat disturbing. But a small spark of hope flickered within him. "Where are the others?" he asked. "Who accompanies you?" He glanced about, searching for more movement while praying that Stony Nook had lamented their cowardice, found their strength, and had sent help. But the filly revealed the obvious truth in her innocent reply, "Others?" Prideheart sighed. The sickly hope expired. "You are alone?" "Yeah," she nodded. Then, face aside with apology, she added, "I don't think anypony really liked you very much, because of all the yelling and everything..." Yet immediately a genuine smile wiped out any sign of her sorrow, pity, or regret. "But I like you, mister!" Much to Bookworm's dread, he didn't respond except to sigh again more quietly. Slowly she let go of her grin. Suddenly the stallion announced, "An error it was for you to have come alone. Now, revolve your course and return home." As ever with young foals, there was no such thing as moderate rejection; only crushed dreams. "What?! Mister, no! I want to help you! Please!" "Admirable. And appreciated," he soberly praised her. But his decision was unchanged. He put a caring hoof onto her and gently guided her around, spinning her back towards the way she had come from. "Nevertheless, too great are the dangers of this task for the likes of fillies and colts. Away now." "Danger? B-But that's why you're here!" she resisted his hoof's soft pushes. "If a hero like you can fight off bull weevils then I'm sure you can keep me safe from a heckhound or two!" Prideheart flinched curiously, pulling his hoof off of her. He had forgotten entirely the impromptu tale he had spun for Bookworm at the tavern. After all, it had been a spontaneous, whimsical fiction, conjured out of the air simply to entertain the delightful filly enough to see her smile. Battles with bull weevils! Ha! Narrow dodges of boulder-smashing charges, deft strikes again invincible plated hides, and the central foe a burly behemoth not actually found in any pony-dwelling portion of Equestria; it had all been very silly on the face of it. Yet, that Bookworm had so faithfully adopted his obviously fanciful story despite its absurdity, enraptured him. It was difficult to gauge how sincerely she believed the false tale or if she more appropriately understood its truth of character, but only a miracle such as a foal could have enough bright and bold imagination to embrace it so wholeheartedly. The innocent devotion sprinkled him with some much-needed joy. Helpless against grinning, Prideheart held his head high and threw out his chest in a gallant pose. "Verily! Such a skirmish would be a respite from the usual perils," he playfully fed her exaggerated assessment of his prowess. "Yet," he continued to tenderly admonish her, "one does not draw innocent fillies into their conflicts for no thoughtful reason." "Not 'no reason!' I can help you!" Bookworm pleaded yet again. Grasping at any straw she could think of, she tried anxiously to assert herself, "Nopony in Stony Nook knows more about heckhounds than me! I read all of Star Swirl's Travels, and about how he dealt with heckhounds in Tartarus! And I read his Bestiary of the Dark and Dangerous too, front to back! I can tell you everything about'em!" "Again, impressive scholarship! But little of need is there to know, other than beware fang, claw, and fire." The filly, ever more desperate and distraught, almost to the point of teary-eyed frustration, urgently tried to prove herself, "W-Well did-, did-, d-did you k-know that the heckhound ran away before cause the water put out his inner fire?" Prideheart's voice slid back into his throat as his good eye fell on her curiously. "Y-Yeah!" Bookworm pushed the sudden opening for all it was worth. "Every heckhound has a dark fire from Tartarus inside them! It makes'em really really really mean! But water puts it out and then they don't fight anymore! A-At least, until they light it again with fresh heckfire." Slowly the stallion's puzzled look melted away to reveal yet more honest admiration for the filly. Beyond just how remarkable the depth of her knowledge was for her tender age, he also didn't doubt the truth of it; not in the least. It matched exactly what he had seen in Stony Nook. "Indeed your wits are keen, young Bookworm," he gave her praises unblemished. "Useful will be this insight you have shared. My thanks!" Bookworm's frantic trembling calmed quickly. Fast breaths waddled from her nose, falling just short of being cheerful sniffles. Hope started to smile. But Prideheart, with words so courteous and considerate and mild and mollifying, slammed her, "Yet still, I cannot allow-" "Mister, please!" Suddenly the filly was up against him, reared and clutching at the front of his cloak with begging hooves. Her clawing twisted the fabric, pulling Prideheart's neck down while trying to hoist herself up, bringing their noses together. She poured her frightened pleas into him. "I really want to go! I've read about all sorts of amazing adventures that heroes like you go on, and now a big adventure has finally come to Stony Nook! Please! I can't miss it! I know everything about adventures! I can help you!" Her upset entreaties didn't catch the stallion off guard. He remembered well her same panicky perseverance at their first meeting in the tavern, reckless and enormous in the same world-shattering mold as so many tiny fillies and colts; the biggest, littlest despair. But what did strike him newly was the unexpected swell of sentimental exhilaration which flooded his heart. Normally the adult maturity to manage the excessive personalities of foals was found plentifully in him; certainly so with the grim sense of responsibility his dragon-wound had dealt him so long ago. But it had been so many years since he had last been face-to-face with an outpouring of such whimpering sweetness, and he had forgotten what a powerful weapon it could be. It pierced him, sharp and sudden. Yet more than that, he was so close to the filly's worry-soaked eyes that he could see his own face in them. Distinctly the mirrors showed him his ruined image: burnt scars of poisoned skin, grotesque growths living atop his shredded horn, an eerie film over his dead eye which collected in the corners as a sticky scum; the mask of a dragon-wound that had become his face. But underneath the reflection of his ugliness was her pure stare. Her gaze swallowed the shadowy mirror image whole. On the other side of the glass, in the hearts of her eyes, she didn't see a single one of his hideous deformities. Even so close to him, confronting him without an inch to spare; she didn't see them. For him, what she saw was unmistakable in the glorious light. 'Hero,' she had innocently called him. "Young Bookworm...," Prideheart spoke lightly, almost in fear of the filly. He stuttered and hesitated, unable to steadfastly reject her anymore, and he stretched his excuses, "More than caution of combat and clever wisdom is there to undertaking a journey." "J-Journey?" His resistance continued to daunt her, but his word choice excited her. "I-, I-, I can do a journey! Uh, uh... look, see? I packed for it and everything!" She dropped down from him, unslung her knapsack, whipped opened the flap, and tilted the mouth towards him. Inside was most certainly not any supplies for a journey, but only the ordinary lunch of schoolfilly: an unremarkable and thin sandwich, an apple, a small cookie, and a short cup with a sealed cap that was probably a juice drink. It all sat on top of a bed of school supplies which likewise weren't anything useful for the hunt ahead: papers, feather pens, workbooks, a tiny inkwell, and so on. Prideheart couldn't hold back a tickled smile. Absolutely she was reaching for any validating excuse, and it was doubtful she had 'packed' anything at all but had merely stolen away with her usual school accoutrements. That hadn't kept the earnestness of her fib from being so endearing. When Bookworm saw him actually frozen and thinking on the matter, with the slightest smile under his snout, she made an extra effort to push him over the edge. Down into her bag went her hoof, and up it came with the apple. "I'll even share with you!" She held it out to him. A bribe. "Please, mister, can I come?" Right away the stallion's stomach roared to life. It thrashed its way up his throat, trying to leap out of his mouth and snatch the delicious fruit on offer. Rivers of saliva came before it, gushing over his lips before he managed to seal them tight. To try and keep temptation at bay he turned somewhat aside, but his good eye didn't move with him. It stayed locked helplessly onto the apple, as if through his sight alone he could consume it. The filly noticed the signs immediately, not that the earthquake in his stomach could have been missed by any critter in a hundred miles. His loud hunger came to her as a bit of a surprise, but once the realization set in she had no trouble discarding her fears and dismay. She pushed aside her knapsack, wiggled forward on her three legs, and brought the apple up closer to him. "Here, mister," she said generously, bribe no more. One charitable gesture. Free of bargains, and selfish bids. Prideheart's rear sunk to the ground slowly, taking a seat. Without a comment his hoof emerged from under his cloak and reached towards the apple, plucking it carefully from the filly like a delicate grape taken softly from the vine. His stomach demanded that he tear the fruit apart savagely; that he crunch and chew and chaw and chomp as fast as he could until there was nothing left, not even a stem. But he held back, keeping the apple at a safe distance from his drooling mouth. Instead he studied again the little filly before him. So young. But nevertheless so beautiful, in courage and benevolence! Was she the only of Stony Nook's citizenry to be so? None of the town had risen up to demonstrate independence, except her. There had been potential in some of them; the gray mare came to mind, and even the coward with magic had at least stood and fought for a time. But only the tiny filly had found the bravery to have continued on, even if she hadn't been equipped for it. Only she had shown the spirit to care wholly and free about another, enough to do what was necessary without giving a thought to cost or recompense. As simple as standing before dragon fire. As plain as gifting away an apple. "Many thanks for sharing, young Bookworm," he mumbled, still holding the apple at bay so that he wouldn't look like such a starving fool by sloppily engulfing it, "but were this apple to be mine then would there not be food enough to sustain you?" No strict 'never!' No hard 'absolutely not!' No cruel 'go home!' No crass, overbearing, fatherly admonishment of any sort! Bookworm beamed. "Nah, I'll be okay," she said easily. The turnabout from dismay to joy was stark. Then suddenly, in absolute certainty, she said, "It isn't very far, after all!" It startled even Prideheart's stomach into silence. The apple almost fell out of his hoof. "... Not... far?" he asked, mystified. "To the old quarry!" Bookworm said. Her tenor was upbeat and her delivery was straightforward, not having any pretended reassurance or foalhood exaggeration. Again, whatever it was she was certain of, she was certain of it. "I... do not understand," said the overwhelmed stallion. At that invitation, the filly rambled speedily and openly, "Well, I haven't been there much except when I was really little, so I don't remember it at all, but Dad and his work friends used to go there all the time! Ms. Crumble Pie closed it down awhile back, and now she and Dad and the others have been working on a new quarry on the other side of the river, out the other way from Stony Nook. So nopony's at the old quarry anymore, but it's this way! I think if you stick to the road then it's only five or six hours from Stony Nook? We're probably almost halfway there! I don't think I'd get too hungry even going down and back-" "Hold, Bookworm. Hold," requested Prideheart. Everything she was babbling about was so entirely disconnected from him and his task with the hound. He couldn't piece her logic together. "Begin again," he asked after a moment of head-shaking ignorance. "What is it you are speaking of? What purpose holds this quarry? How ties it to the diabolical hound?" "Oh. Well... the heckhound must be going there." Prideheart, still dumbfounded, put his good eye to work on the filly. He analyzed, inspecting every hair and reviewing every glance, but there wasn't a speck of childish doubt on her. Not a blind hope, not a wild guess, not even any shred of disingenuity played as part of a scheme to win him over. "How can this you claim so adamantly?" he asked. It seemed obvious to her, and so she shrugged, "It's the only place to go out here. Especially cause the heckhound's tracks stopped after the broken wagon. If he came through these trees instead of going on down the road, then he's gotta be heading there." The stallion found himself utterly helpless, unable to confirm her suggestion but also unable to reject it because of her austere sincerity. All he had for her was his confused, lackluster stare. At first it genuinely didn't occur to Bookworm that he shared none of her local knowledge – she had spent most of her life cooped up in tiny Stony Nook after all – and she only returned his lost stare. Eventually the discomfort of the silence woke her up to his cluelessness and she started shoveling coal into her brain, burning for a better explanation. "Uh... uh... uh... Oh! One second, mister!" It was like a starter pistol had popped and sent her on a race. She seized her knapsack and dove into it, hooves first then all the way up to her face. A small unicorn, she didn't use an ounce of her magic to rustle through the contents, preferring instead to toss and spin and flip everything within using her hooves. (Whatever talent her father had in dexterous magical manipulation hadn't been passed down to her.) Finally after much shuffling and shifting and shaking, out came the filly, and she brought with her a crinkled piece of brown parchment and a feather pen. She then went back in and this time withdrew – much more carefully – the tightly-sealed inkwell; she had sadly learned such caution from having once carelessly ruined the pages of a beloved storybook. Setting aside the knapsack, she threw the blank parchment flat onto the hard ground before she opened the inkwell and primed the pen, once again preferring to do it all manually instead of using her magic. With the wet pen carefully tucked between her teeth, she grinned at Prideheart. "Here. I'll show you!" In the very center of the parchment she drew a messy scribble. "Ok. This is the forest, right here..." Next she put down a jumpy line which started way off at the top corner and wormed erratically down across the page, passing just above and around the center scribble. "And this is the river." She scratched a quick X down at the end of the line. "It goes right to Stony Nook eventually. That's here..." Then, two lines. One shot from the town straight left, passing below the forest and blasting off the parchment. The other line emerged from the middle of the first, rising to the left of the forest before it met and followed the river. "Here's the road that we've been on. And then there's this road, which goes off it up to the river, and then right to... the... old quarry..." She hovered the pen upriver for a moment, bouncing about several times as she couldn't decide where exactly she wanted her symbolic quarry to sit. Eventually she gave up, dropped the pen down at any old place, and looped a fast circle. Laying the pen aside, she scooped up the paper between her teeth and let it hang for Prideheart to see clearly. "So," Bookworm explained, pointing at the map in her mouth while awkwardly balancing on her other three hooves, "the forest is surrounded by the river and the roads. He can't cross the river cause he's a heckhound and he hates water. If he didn't go past the wagon then he's gone into this forest, and there's no reason to do that unless he was going all the way to the old quarry. I mean, it's the only thing out here anyway. Trust me, I've read lots and lots of atlases and there's nothing else." Prideheart brought his eye up to the parchment. Bookworm, meanwhile, waited anxiously for the teacher to review and grade her work. "... Keen wits indeed, young Bookworm...," the stallion said, quietly astounded. He understood now everything she had been relating to him, and he agreed with her guess. Unless the hound had some kind of warren hidden out in the wilderness – a hideaway which would have been nearly untraceable to Prideheart – then the quarry was a logical guess at a destination. At the very least, if the hound had cut through the forest then it might have been possible to pick up the trail again on the quarry-bound road. For a filly, she was beyond remarkable. He couldn't have been prouder; not even if she were his own foal. The parchment helplessly drifted to the ground as Bookworm's mouth broke open into a big smile. "Does this me I can go?!" she gasped. "Hmmmm," the stallion made a purposeful show of overacted pondering. It pleased him to no end to see her shiver with delight each time he gave a tentative hum or a thoughtful nod to his head. She was hoping, hoping, hoping with all of her joyful hope for one particular answer, and the wonderful sight of her writhing in happy anticipation gave him no rush to respond. Meanwhile, his rumbling stomach bitterly reminded him of the fresh apple sitting right there on his hoof. To continue to tease Bookworm, he delayed answering her by taking a slow, enormous bite. A rainfall of apple sweetness accompanied the crisp snap, each and every steady chew gave out another full shower, and the taste was more delectable and nourishing than even the mug of apple juice he had so swiftly downed yesterday. It was enough to draw him out of the world for a moment, particularly at the first swallow when the mashed chunks of apple hit the pit of his stomach like a single stone being cast into a glass lake. He couldn't hold himself back any more after that, and he went mercilessly after the rest of the apple. The relieving pain actual food brought to his belly was a welcome sensation compared to the agonizing emptiness it had long suffered. At first Bookworm had an easy time keeping her spirits afloat while waiting eagerly for his answer. But after awhile all the lip-smacking crunches and greedy chewing started to drag on and on, until a single seed of worrisome doubt was planted within her. "Uh, if-... if it makes you feel any better about deciding," she said with distinctly imperfect confidence, "I have permission to-... to go to the quarry." "Indeed?" Prideheart croaked between bites. Flecks of apple fell from his busy mouth like thawing snow broken from a rooftop, and he was so lost in his tasty bliss that he hadn't been fully attentive to her. Still, he had managed to pick up on the shady-salespony nature of her statement. "Yeah!" she tried to enthusiastically reply. Her eyes became evasive. "Dad and Ms. Crumble Pie said that-... that I could go to the quarry." Prideheart had to swallow his current mouthful again before he could ask, "To this old quarry? Unescorted?" "They-, they said... I could go to t-the quarry, yeah." "Hm..." Humming with deeper thought, he continued tearing through what was left of the fast-disappearing apple. A false tale, surely. Her departure was not granted nor known by anypony. Crafty irresponsibility, so marvelously foreseeable from a foal! She could not rightly go. So young; so pure; to her, no harm could be allowed! None; not even by a dream of a hazard! To bring a foal so flagrantly danger-towards? Selfish! Reckless! Stupid! Yet... Of all Stony Nook, only she had right courage; had right charity; had right wisdom. Only she had followed boldly; cared magnanimously; solved prudently. The best hero among them, a filly. Suddenly there was no more apple left to eat. Flesh, fruit, core, seed; all gone, and all that remained was the stem sitting lonely on his hoof. The stallion cast the small stem to the earth and wiped his cloak across his sloppy mouth. When he again regarded Bookworm, all his humor vanished. His brow curled, his gaze grew heavy, the golden-red in his good eye shined and the sick color within his dead eye swirled. Judgment. "... If an order I give... then an order you follow, to the letter, without exception. Understood?" The threat: but one extinguished heckhound! Infinitesimal risk! Glittery fireworks burst inside of Bookworm; a grand finale of happiness. "Yes sir!" she cheered. And her response could not have been more perfect for the old stallion: not quite sitting, not quite straight, and not quite with accurate aim, she threw up slapdash salute. "So it is decided," Prideheart grinned at his little soldier. "On your sincere promise to obey, you may accompany me." "Yes! Oh, I promise, I promise! Thank you, mister! Thank you!" She rushed forward, catching a surprise hug around the stallion's leg even though it was hidden behind his cloak. Caught unprepared by the loving assault, Prideheart was left momentarily breathless. Awe held him stiff while she swayed and snuggled, thanking him again and again, and only slowly did his senses return. He managed to slip his other leg out of his cloak and, with some initial hesitation, he tenderly embraced her back. "I have your promise, then?" he asked for confirmation. "Oh, I super promise, mister!" she declared emphatically. "'Super'?" "That's the biggest kind of promise I can make!" the filly explained, simple and direct. The stallion laughed and tightened his hug. "Very well," he said. "Your 'super' promise is accepted, young Bookworm, and held to my heart." More he tightened his hold, softly; melting against her. Was this why he had crossed back to Equestria? Why he had survived the Pearl Peaks? The filly was not her. She was gone. She had been failed shamefully. Had been punished unjustly. But... Here regardless was this blissful filly; this wonder of a foal; this flowing spring of clear love; this dream resurrected from a possibility killed. Here, despite his failures. The hug would be temporary, but forever would he hold onto her. Not another will be lost. Not one more. Not like her. The filly's assistance outvalued any threat to her. He could keep her safe. It was only a gentle hunt of a near-vanquished beast. Anything to share her presence but a little longer... A warm minute passed before he delicately peeled his leg off of her, and she did the same for him. Leaning himself low, he brought the tip of his hoof an inch from her nose. "Remember the promise. Keep it," he instructed her closely. For just an instant his mismatched eyes drifted up and over her. Fractured sunlight spilt down through the leaves of the nearest tree, beams of it crossing his dead, sightless eye. "I gaze with no favor upon those whose promises prove empty." She snagged his attention again with her shining smile. "You bet, mister!" she swore. Prideheart turned gladly towards the further depths of the thin forest; towards the northwest; the old quarry. "Then, young Bookworm, gather your things! Much marching we have to do!" "Yeah!" She scrambled excitedly to return all of her items to her knapsack. All in one bunch she dumped everything back in (except for the small inkwell which she meticulously resealed and securely placed inside) and then she slung the bag once more over herself. "Ready!" she declared. But in her happy haste to trot alongside him, her clamorous hooves broke a fallen twig with a clear and sharp snap. "Tender steps, Bookworm!" Prideheart reprimanded her, free of any actual wrath or disappointment. He chided her cheerfully, "Such noise does our hunt ill!" "I'm sorry," she said. She turned up the offending hoof to inspect its underside as if she might find a poor animal trapped there. "Little difficulty I had in preying upon you without your notice, as you recall," he warned her playfully. "Were I the heckhound, your tail would have been more than snatched." "I don't know if I can be any quieter," the filly worried. "Fear not," Prideheart was pleased to reassure her, "for I shall teach you the fundaments of silent motion. So long as the quarry is far, let us move longer through the forest and use it for training. This I swear: by journey's end, you will go where you wish unseen and unheard!" Bookworm squealed. This was better than getting a brand new storybook! Four ponies were needed to hoist up the weighty stone, but together they hauled its great bulk high and set it firmly down onto the waiting mortar. Ponies on either side tweaked the alignment to perfection before pegasi came down from above and pressed the stone in. That was one more in place. Crumble Pie marched by. "Good work, fellas! Keep it up! The other side is making good progress too!" All of them replied faithfully; nodding, cheering, lifting their spirits high. They then went to grab the next huge stone, and meanwhile another team stepped in to clean up the agitated mortar before slapping down a fresh layer. The gray mare, through with another whole round of inspections, made for the nearest building. She took shelter in a block of cool shade provided by the building's short overhang. It had taken some doing, but she had successfully convinced the townsponies of Stony Nook to build a protective wall around their village. A wall had made the most sense after all. It was quick and easy to construct, it only needed to cover two sides of the village (Crumble Pie had keenly noted how the hound had despised water, meaning Stony Nook was already walled on two sides by the river), and – most fortunately of all – they already had the ponies and resources there with them to build such a thing! The materials and expert craftsponies they had been gathering for weeks had been intended for expanding the village, but they could be used for any such job in a pinch! Now instead of big homes, they were building big defenses! Under Crumble Pie's direction everypony in town had been split into teams, each with specific jobs and most led by one of her own crewmembers or one of the new craftsponies. To speed construction, they had started on the wall at two ends and worked towards connecting them in the middle. Properly motivated and well-guided, the townsponies had gotten a strong start and, by the end of the morning, each beginning portion of the wall was already reaching far from their respective riverbanks. It was good, measurable progress, all thanks to the feverish pace they had put themselves to. Everypony was on board. Even those with misgivings, who had been trading whispers of their doubt with likewise-frightened neighbors. It hadn't taken much hard listening to have found ponies who hoped their new wall would never be tested, or worried that eight feet of stone wasn't high enough, or prayed that Princess Celestia would bring swift salvation. Though the timid fears were plentiful just under the surface, nopony had come forward with objections. Not when their faith in Crumble Pie had been so strong. The gray mare's rest was interrupted when a very tired Mayor Desk Job came her way, calling her name. As best she could, Crumble Pie transformed herself into a vision of optimism. "How you holding, Mayor?" she asked. "I don't even know, Crumble Pie." Desk Job's hooves dragged as she trudged under the overhang and plopped down next to the gray mare. She hadn't been one of the ponies lifting, pushing, and dragging heavy things all morning, yet she was besieged with weariness anyway. There wasn't any escape from the gloom her spirits were mired in. "I just can't even begin to assess this situation." Crumble Pie, making a show of hope, responded, "Hey, keep your chin up. We're all in this together, and we're doing good so far." The bright words didn't shine any light on the mayor. She hummed drearily. "Did you take inventory like I asked?" the gray mare continued on naturally. "Buckets, lamps, bells; everything?" "I-... Yes." The nod she gave was no more affirming than a fiddler finding their fiddle without strings once onstage, but nevertheless she was earnest. A longer answer waited on her lips for a moment before it trembled out. "Everypony's... offered whatever they had. It's all behind the general store now. It-, uh... it needs to be sorted still. I don't recall the totals exactly but... I-... I wrote everything down." "Good, good!" Crumble Pie quickly encouraged her. "I don't know how much we'll need, but it could all come in handy." Desk Job bobbed her head weakly. "Hey," Crumble Pie said warmly. She gave a supportive pat to the mayor. "If we do the best we're able then it'll work out the best it can. Simple as that. Don't you worry." Slowly the mayor took in the advice, absorbing it alongside one big, almost bottomless breath. When the exhale finally came out, the troubled air which exited her was smoother and calmer than it had gone in. "Right. Thank you, Crumble Pie," she said. "Now then, is there anything else I can do to help?" "Yes, absolutely!" The gray mare slapped some trusty encouragement into Desk Job's back. "Could you start working on a schedule for me? For patrols, once the wall is done. It won't do us any good if we don't got ponies on top keeping an eye out for trouble. No need to get crazy; I figure eight ponies at a time should be good enough coverage. Maybe more at night, with lamps. Could you work out who's willing, how long their shifts would be, and everything like that?" One more concentrated breath came from the mayor. "Sure," she then replied. "Give me a minute and I'll get on it." "Great! Thanks, Mayor!" At last Crumble Pie brought out a little bit of fresh good news she had been holding in reserve, for just the moment when she really needed to give Desk Job a boost. "Oh, and you should know that Hailstone returned just a short while ago. I know, I know: probably a new record for a down and back to Mule's Head! Anyway, the message is in the hooves of the Pony Express now; emergency dispatch, fastest transit, direct to Canterlot." "Oh, good. Yes, good," the mayor heaved off some of her worst weight. Still, her smile was incomplete. "Though it's like you said, Crumble Pie: we can only hope for a response, at soonest, three days from now." "Well, all the more reason to focus on our wall, right? It'll keep us until help arrives." "How is the wall coming?" Desk Job asked. "Any trouble?" "Not at all," returned the gray mare with confidence. "Everpony keeps working as hard as they are, and we'll get it finished tonight. And I know things seem to be going a little slower at the moment, but that's cause Scrolldozer's on a break to see his filly. He's the real workhorse of the crew; half our strength easy." Pleasantly the mayor accepted the report. But she worried, "Will it be done before dark?" "I think so." Again, Crumble Pie was confident. "Alright, phew. Good." A short lull followed, with both ponies taking respite and sharing their friendly solitude. In the end only one of them was actually a leader, but that hardly meant that they couldn't briefly commiserate over the responsibility. They were serenaded by the heavy sounds of stones being scratched over dirt and stacked one on top of the other; the music of construction. Singing along were the voices of the townsponies, calling and responding to each other as they worked together to get the job done. The only other noises came oddly from the opposite direction of all the work. From further in town came a distant banging on wood, a distorted voice, and a rapid dashing of hooves to and fro, none of it terribly loud or distracting. "You know, it's funny how things work out," Desk Job spoke up faintly. It all emerged with a breezy lament. "I used to manage the finances of this tiny investment firm in Manehattan. 'This is a rinky-dink, dead end town,' they said. 'Go west and make something of yourself,' they said. So I did." She smirked in sad amusement. "And no more than a year after I left that town did I hear that the largest finance boom in Equestrian history hit it. Did you know that now they're erecting buildings so tall that they had to invent a new word for them? 'Skyscrapers' they call'em. Big as the towers in Canterlot, or so they say. 'An engineering revolution!' If I had stuck around, I could have had a corner office overlooking the birth of a new modern metropolis!" "Mayor!" chuckled Crumble Pie. Some fun grabbed her grin and ran away with it. "What would we have done if you had never come along? How could we have gotten by without you leveling the road for us? Without you lifting us up on a pedestal? Without your seal of approval stamping all those forms that collect dust in your office?" "Without my sore butt to keep the seat behind the mayoral desk warm?" the other mare laughed along. "Probably shrivel up in debt, I guess." The mayor stood up, fresh and reset with calm. "Well... I'll get on that schedule for you now, Crumble Pie," she said. "Thanks again. For everything." Appreciative, Crumble Pie dismissed the undue thanks with a modest swipe of her hoof. Just as the mayor was leaving she was stopped by the kindly Mrs. Totaler. The bartender had a tray of mugs on her back, balanced with expect ease, and small kegs were hung on each side of her. The taps stilled dripped with delicious moisture from their latest pours. She offered the mayor a drink, was declined, the mayor went on her way, and the bartender at last cheerfully approached the gray mare. "Something for your thirst, Crumble Pie? Water's on the left, cider's on the right." "Aw, I haven't been working hard enough to earn it," the gray mare got up and dusted herself off. "Thanks, though. And I appreciate you breaking out some of your tavern's stock to keep everypony sated, free of charge. You're a blessing of bedrock, Mrs. Totaler." "Always glad to be of service." Ever the proud bartender, the older mare straightened her apron and jiggled the tray on her back to precisely shuffle the mugs into formation. After her moment of basking, she said limberly, "You know, first I thought I might open that case of Cloudsdale Rainwater Mead; the stuff I bought from that poor pony what got jumped by the monster. Figured we had ourselves a good excuse as any to serve up a special occasion kinda drink like that; thought the sweating ponies would appreciate it; some spirits for everypony's spirits, as it were. But then I thought – unnatural as it might sound – maybe it'd be more proper to serve the Rainwater after the storm." A smile just a little too old to put up with hopeless pessimism came right over her. "After all, these clouds'll clear right on up eventually, hm?" "That they will," replied Crumble Pie. "We all hold together, then straight as a stack of bricks they will." The racket coming from the east side of town, away from the all the construction, clamored on. It grew louder. Hooves pounded, chaotically almost, like a drum sent to tumble down a hillside. Crumble Pie took actual notice of it at last, but gave it no more than an aside glance. The street appeared empty. "You save me some cider for when the wall's finished," the gray mare returned her whole attention to Mrs. Totaler. "And you and I'll toast some of that Rainwater once we're in the clear." "Will be a pleasure," the bartender said. Then, motherly in demeanor, she dug in an honest tease, "And, if you don't mind, I'll make a little toast to everypony's hero: Crumbaloo Samantha Pie!" Happily embarrassed, Crumble Pie shook her head. "A toast to everypony," she offered instead. "To Stony Nook." There was a loud rattle, nearer than ever. A door slammed. More thunderous, irregular clopping. It was impossible to ignore now. Both mares looked. "Just what-?" the gray mare began. Scrolldozer bolted across the street, a pony possessed. He could hardly run straight, moving himself more by throwing his body here and there than by working his legs. Into the door of the next nearest building he charged heedlessly, almost ripping it from its hinges as he crashed through it. There was a fast earthquake inside; a rumbling like every furnishing had been turned upside down at once; then he scrambled back out into the street in anguish. The crashed water tower still littered the road, and it became his next target. Rushing up to it, his magic flared from his horn and set upon the ruined tower viciously; lifting, flinging, tearing, ripping, shredding. With terrible, terrified force he demolished his way through the debris, leaving no plank unturned no matter how small a splinter it was. Taken aback, Crumble Pie called, "Scrolldozer! What in the name of-" "Crumble Pie!" His horn blinked off and a rainfall of broken wood dropped where it had been floating. Immediately he dashed for the gray mare, running through the remains of the fallen water tower while ignoring every scratch he took by carelessly doing so. Again he ran so desperately that he nearly rolled over himself in his reckless charge. He skid to a stop in front of Crumble Pie, bumping up against her and snagging her in a frightened, forceful grip. Before he even spoke Crumble Pie felt the whole world blacken. There was a cold numbness coming from his hooves, his blood having already been long-frozen into ice. "Crumble Pie! I can't find her!" "Who-?" "Bookworm!" Slowly the gray mare's jaw peeled open as the news pierced her. Mrs. Totaler let out a quiet gasp. "I-, I-... I went to the schoolhouse to see her for my break," the grief-stricken stallion burbled. His body quaked, vibrating every word into near-incoherence. "But-... but the schoolmare said Bookworm hadn't been there all morning! She thought I had been keeping her with me!" He tried to stand up straight but his strengthless knees couldn't lift him. Tight he held onto Crumble Pie, to keep himself steady, and his shaking shook her. "I checked at home," he wheezed, "and I checked the post office, and the grocer's, and-, and-... and everywhere! I've asked everypony I've seen! Nopony knows where she is!" His hooves clawed in desperation at his friend's chest. "Have you seen her, Crumble Pie? Have you? Please..." "Scrolldozer..." It broke her heart to answer him truthfully. "... I haven't." Wordlessly, hopelessly, the stallion looked to Mrs. Totaler for her answer. Grim, the bartender shook her head. Scrolldozer started choking as his throat tightened, letting in no more air, and his stomach turned upside down. More of his weight fell onto Crumble Pie. Into her he started to gasp and beg, "... Where is she...? Where...? Please... Help me..." The last floodgate holding the tears gave way. "... Help..." The gray mare almost succumbed as well, the compassion beginning to dribble from her eyes. But she kept her thoughts orderly; she spun and maneuvered all the pieces about, trying rapidly to solve the puzzle. Her fast deductions led her gaze westward down the road, where the dirt pathway stretched out towards the hills and the Pearl Peaks sat quiet, painted upon the horizon. "... She followed that stranger." "What?" Scrolldozer picked his pained face up. "You know how curious she is," Crumble Pie said. Every second more found her confidence increasing. "You saw how excited she was by this whole fire hound deal. She jumped at the chance to go with that stranger... She must have slipped away after him instead of going to the schoolhouse, while we were all scrambling around to get started on the wall." Scrolldozer's legs, hooves, body, and all began to tremble as if his very bones were made of ice, but the cold actually gave him the rigidness to let go of Crumble Pie and stand on his own. He gazed down the road himself, looking at the maw of the ravenous hills and the brown tongue of a road which led up to it. Slowly the terrible truth drilled into him. "... No... No! No no no nono!" He suddenly snapped forwards, racing haplessly after his lost daughter. Crumble Pie grabbed his tail with her teeth and threw her hooves into the ground. "Wait!" "I have to find her!" "Wait!" "I have to-! Before-!" "Just wait for a minute! Listen to me!" "Crumble Pie, she's out there! She's-! She's-! And-!" His eyes saw it all again: rows of ferocious teeth, searing white and glistening with boiling slobber. His ears, too, were haunted: smoldering and hungry growls, sometimes whipped into beastly howls. The stallion's voice cracked, "She's out there, and-, and there's a monster out there with her!" "I know! I know!" the gray mare sympathized. But her own rationality screamed in competition with her friend. Mercifully she pleaded with him, "Hang on, though! Think this through with me!" "Think?!" He just kept tugging, for all the good it did him. It hurt his tail more than it did Crumble Pie's jaw. "There's no time to 'think!' I-, I have to get her back!" "I know," Crumble Pie said again. Then her leadership suddenly appeared, and she very specifically warned, "But you're our best earthmover. The wall is never going to get done in a timely fashion without you. We need you here, to finish it." "The wall?!" gasped Scrolldozer. "I don't care! Crumble Pie, it's Bookworm!" Still he failed to stumble forward, held back by the gray mare. He may have been the best earthmover of all the quarry crew, but that was all in his magic. Compared to Crumble Pie and her earth pony brawn, the unicorn father was tough as talc to her durable diamond. Crumble Pie gave a good, hard yank and threw his rear to the ground. She moved around and in front of him, blocking his path, but then she laid a tender hoof onto his cheek, to show her honest concern and to hold together his broken attention. "Listen to me: I love Bookworm too, and we've got to find her...," she assured him, squeaking not a drop of compromise into her promise. But she didn't hold back the truth. She didn't even offer it with pity, saying resolutely, "... but we have to protect everypony. Bookworm and Stony Nook. In order to do that, we need to use everypony's best in the most sensible way possible. You're most useful working on the wall, not scrambling about in the wilderness." "B-But-!" he sobbed. "The pegasi can search from the air one hundred times faster and better than you can," she emphasized. "They won't be missed as much here as you would be. We'll get Hailstone to lead a few in a search, okay?" The clarity of her logic cut through to him, at least a little bit. His breathing become barely more controlled, going from painful gasps to shivering heaves. The gray mare continued, "I know it'll be hard for you to stay here working like nothing's wrong, but you've got to keep it together. The ponies here need you and this wall. It doesn't make any sense for you to search and them to build when we'd all do better turning it around the other way." Weakly Scrolldozer nodded, though nothing she had said had stopped his tremendous hurting. He moaned in despair, "She's-... she's-... I'm not much of a father, but she's my daughter. My only-... My-... I-..." "I know," Crumble Pie said again, and she embraced him. "But what's best for everypony, Bookworm included, is that you stay and work on the wall. That way, she'll be safe when she gets back, right?" He held onto her tightly and wept. "Alright," the gray mare softly said. "We'll get the others out looking for her right now." She looked to Mrs. Totaler. Right away the bartender volunteered, "I'll flag Hailstone down; tell'er everything." "Quickly, please. Thank you, Mrs. Totaler." Off the older pony went, galloping away while shouting for the pegasus. Even still, not a mug jumped or rattled on the tray still perfectly balanced on her back. "Crumble Pie... please...," Scrolldozer whispered. "Just try and focus on the wall, alright? Keep everything else out of your head for now. Hailstone's got it." "... Okay... okay...," he managed to huff. The gray mare made her hug strong and secure, and the aching, heartbroken stallion depended upon it. He still cried quietly, "Oooh... Celestia, save her..."