Collecting her thoughts, Sunset Shimmer watched as Bucky sat with Zoysia and Brook, doing what many considered that Bucky did best. The air was still cool, which was a welcome relief, but the temperature was rising as the cold spell wore off. Sunset heard Bucky laugh, but she had not heard what had been said.
Brook and Zoysia, both teenagers, had a tough road ahead, but both seemed determined to be free. Beside Sunset, the wooden floorboards creaked. She turned and looked at Fever Cure, who was now sitting beside her. He was leaning close, his muzzle inches from her ear.
“This is outside of my field of specialisation, but even I can see that she is malnourished. She’s sick, she has patches of hair falling out, and she has a distressing lack of body fat for being so far along in her pregnancy. She needs to be away from this place.”
Sunset nodded as she listened to Fever Cure’s whispered words, then replied, “I agree.” She heard Brook laughing, but she hadn’t heard whatever it was that Bucky had just said. Brook and Zoysia were both foals still, close to adulthood, but it was easy to see by watching them that some much needed maturity was not there. With a foal on the way, the maturity would be needed soon enough.
“Something is wrong in this wretched place,” Fever Cure continued, still whispering. “She doesn’t even know how foals are made. Neither does Zoysia. This happened by sheer chance. I spoke with them about doing the deed. They found out about it by accident when they were playing and discovered that it felt good. Both believe she is pregnant just because they love one another. They don’t know.”
A twinge of anger caused Sunset to twitch and she turned to look at Fever Cure. His eyes were hidden behind his smoked glass goggles. He was looking at the teenage couple, his lips pulled away from his teeth, revealing several sharp points.
“Worst part is, I got angry at Mask for calling this place a backwater.” Fever Cure shook his head. “But he was right. Mask was right. This place is a backwater and Bucky is right to hate it.”
“I need to go… it is time to have a few words with Mister Blackwater,” Sunset said to Fever Cure in a low voice.
“By a few words, I hope you mean beating him bloody.” Fever Cure’s ears stood erect as he spoke and he shook his head. “He’s irredeemable, doing what he did, saying what he said, and keeping his own daughter ignorant… that’s unforgivable. At least Bucky is putting things right.”
“Huh?” Sunset’s own ears perked and she tried to listen to the soft conversation on the other side of the room.
Fever Cure raised his hoof and gestured at Bucky. “For the past half an hour Bucky has been explaining to the both of them how little ponies are made and he’s done it in a way that they don’t feel stupid or ashamed. Say what you will about Signore Psicopatico, but he’s good with the little ones.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, Sunset Shimmer prepared herself. She had flown here in the form of a falcon, a swift, capable flier that was able to outpace the dangers of the swamp. The air was hot, stifling, and with the heat and humidity, it was easy to feel one’s temper rising, like mercury in a thermometer.
She ascended the stairs two at a time, crossed the porch, and just as she was about to knock upon the door, it opened. Standing in the doorframe, Blackwater stood peering at her, his eyes narrowed, his face wrinkled with worry and perhaps a bit of fear. Sunset, much to her own credit, said nothing right away, but continued to keep her words held in check.
“What brings you here?” Blackwater asked.
“There is a lot you didn’t tell me about your daughter, Brook. Important details that you failed to mention. I would like to know why—”
Much to Sunset’s shock, the door was slammed in her face, leaving her standing on the porch, stammering and spluttering with rage. She felt the fires within rising up, she felt a hot flash of anger, a real hot flash of anger, and she swallowed, trying to gulp down her rage to keep it contained within.
Horn flaring, Sunset jerked the door open, her opal eyes flashing with terrible rage. The door was almost torn from its hinges. She advanced, her hooves heavy on the half rotted floor, and Blackwater cowered before her, backing up, trying to escape with nowhere to go.
She heard him whimper, a fearful, wordless plea for mercy. Flames burned along the length of her horn and sparks shot from the tip. For a moment, the urge to burn down the sickness around her was unbearable and difficult to resist.
The house smelled of decaying wood, that musty smell of neglect and rot. There was a sharp tang in the air, almost like the scent of black mould. The floorboards were soft beneath her hooves, bending and flexing with each step. This house’s glory days had come and gone.
“Do we have a visitor?”
The small squeaky voice froze Sunset in place. Her jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together, and she turned her head to look through a door on her left. Several frightened looking unicorns all stood staring at her, eyes wide, their faces filled with terror, all of them looking as though they had seen the harbinger of the end.
Except one.
Sunset dropped her gaze at the foal approaching her. A colt. She felt her breath catching in her throat and her barrel hitched. The colt, little more than a yearling, stumbled forwards. The colt had one eye. He was not missing an eye, the colt had one eye, and it was in the middle of his face, just above his nose and just below his horn. The eye was milky white in the middle, misshapen, and the sclera was a strange, sick looking shade of greyish yellow.
“I don’t get any visitors,” the colt said.
Ears perking, Sunset could hear many fearful whimpers as she turned and faced the colt. Nopony moved. Not one horn ignited with magic. No one dared do anything. Sunset took a step forward and lowered her head.
“Hi there,” Sunset Shimmer said in a soft, gentle voice. “Can you tell me your name?”
“My name is Darkwater,” the colt replied. “What’s yours?”
“My name is Sunset Shimmer.” Head down low, Sunset took another step forwards, then another, and then with a slow caution, she bumped her snoot into the colt’s, their noses touching. She felt the colt startle, realised that he had to be completely blind, and then felt the colt press up against her, feeling her face with his nose.
“Please, please, I’m begging you… don’t do anything to my grandson. He’s innocent in all of this… I love him a great deal… look, I’ll tell you anything you want, just don’t do anything to my grandson.”
Lifting her head, Sunset’s vision took on a hazy red glare. She turned her head and looked at Blackwater. “Darkwater, it was very nice to meet you. If you will excuse me, I need to have a word with your grandfather.”
Slamming the door behind her, Sunset Shimmer dragged Blackwater around on the porch so she could look him in the eye. She could hear his hooves scraping over the rotten wood as she jerked him around and she gave him a rough shove to plant him in place.
“You utter, contemptible bastard,” Sunset Shimmer said, her words almost a hateful hiss. “How could you be so heartless? You… you… you cast your own daughter out, think of her as a whore, and you threaten to drag her off for an abortion because she got herself pregnant with an earth pony, but somehow you still love the diseased, malformed little unicorn colt?” Sunset gave Blackwater a violent shake with her magic and his hooves clattered against the decaying wood of the porch. She shook him even harder, so much so that his teeth clacked together and she heard him crying out from pain.
“What gives you the right to treat earth ponies so poorly?” Sunset demanded. When no answer came, she shook Blackwater even harder, causing his head to whip around. “Answer me, damn you!” She stopped shaking the old stallion and waited.
“Darkwater is still a unicorn… still better—OOMF!”
Snarling, Sunset Shimmer slammed Blackwater into the greying wooden pillar that held up the roof over the porch. She heard Blackwater cry out in pain, he was whimpering now, then mumbling about his back. She tossed him down onto the uneven floorboards of the porch, ignoring his pained cries, and then loomed over him, her face contorted into a hateful scowl.
“Brook is going to have that foal with Zoysia. They’re going to be happy… they’re going to get a happy ending… I’m gonna see to it… your daughter is going to know a love that you can’t even imagine, you hateful, spiteful, tribalist old bastard, and she is going to get that love from an earth pony. Think about that, while you sit and rot in this wretched shack of yours, she’s going to be having fat, chubby little foals with an earth pony. And she’s gonna be happy.”
Two hate filled eyes stared up at Sunset Shimmer, eyes filled with hatred, burning with hatred, but also fear. Sunset saw Blackwater’s horn ignite with a tiny spark and for a moment, she hoped that Blackwater would do something foolish. More than anything else at that moment, she just wanted an excuse.
But the horn dimmed and Blackwater closed his eyes as he lay on the warped, twisted boards of the front porch. Sunset Shimmer’s ears perked at a new sound, the sound of Blackwater weeping as he ground his teeth together.
“I’m gonna go… and I’m gonna cool off… and I might be back so we can have a talk. You’d better have something worth listening to if I do come back. But right now… I can’t even look at you, you pathetic, miserable, wretched excuse of a pony.” With nothing left to say, Sunset Shimmer stomped away, hating the swamp, hating this place, and hating herself for losing control.
Still stomping, Sunset raged as she came down the hill and into the town of Granther’s Polder. Ponies, seeing her, avoided her, giving her a wide berth as she made her way towards a tall pink house that loomed over everything else in town. She was hot, sweaty, and filled with rage, which did nothing but make her feel hotter. She wanted a word with Hibiscus, she wanted lots of words with Hibiscus.
“Whoa, there, you look a bit peeved.”
Coming to an abrupt halt, Sunset Shimmer turned and looked at Mask. He too, was wearing heavy smoked glass goggles over his eyes and a broad brimmed hat as well. A water canteen hung from a strap around his neck.
“What happened?” Mask asked, his voice both charming and disarming.
Sunset drew in a deep breath, which felt like shards of hot, broken glass scraping along the inside of her throat. She coughed, tasting hot, bitter bile, and then tried to clear her throat. She blinked when she saw Mask’s canteen held out in front of her.
She yanked out the stopper, lifted the canteen to her lips, and took a greedy pull. Her mouth filled with fire and she almost choked as the liquid caused her gums, lips, cheeks, and the back of her throat to burn. The canteen was not filled with water, but whiskey. Recovering, Sunset gulped it down, and then took another long pull, letting the fiery whiskey slide down her throat. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt better.
“The water here isn’t safe to drink,” Mask said in a low voice, shaking his head. “Whiskey… whiskey is always safe to drink. Just ask Barley O’blivion.”
Wheezing from drinking liquid fire, Sunset Shimmer thought about taking another pull of the canteen. She was feeling better. She was still hot, still angry, but for some reason, she didn’t seem to care quite as much that she was miserable.
“What in Tartarus?” Mask’s words were little more than a mutter.
Sunset, blinking, shook her head and looked at Mask. “What? What’s wrong?”
The unicorn did not reply, but pointed with his hoof instead. Sunset Shimmer craned her head around to have a look at whatever it was that Mask was pointing at. She didn’t see anything, at least not at first. It wasn’t until she looked upwards that she saw what Mask had seen. Seeing it made her blood run cold and all she could do was stand there and stare in shock.
The house on top of the hill was on fire.