//------------------------------// // For // Story: Run for the Roses // by 8686 //------------------------------// Wednesday Wednesday lunchtime is always busy. Something about it simply being the middle of the week seems to make ponies think it’s a particularly good time to enjoy a midday meal with friends. Wednesdays also play host to Market day in town, which brings out almost everypony for shopping, trading and socialising. Hoof-fall is heavy, passing trade is high, and between the three main places to find food in Ponyville – be it Horse D’oeuvre’s restaurant, Sugarcube Corner’s cafe or my own humble establishment – we’re all always filled with ponies wanting something to eat. It was pretty hectic by around one-o’clock, the bar alive and filled with talkative, upbeat ponies with no spare seats to be found. Chef Waldorf was working frantically crafting dozens of his popular signature salads – and loving every second of it I should add – and I was pulling double duty helping Silver Lining get orders out to all of the tables while still trying to man the bar for ponies who needed more drinks or who came to settle their bills. When it gets busy the three of us get into a really good pattern. Everything just flows smoothly and naturally. We each know exactly what the other two are doing and we’re pretty darn good at keeping folks happy if I do say so myself. It’s the kind of ‘in the zone’ feeling you only get when you’re working with people you trust and who trust you back. Again, it’s not something I’ve ever found working anywhere else except in Ponyville. And at about half-past-one, it all came to a crashing halt. I was behind the bar adding up table-four’s bill when all of a sudden the front door was opened with a firm thud and into the inn, in full sets of gleaming golden armour, strode eight Royal Guards. The stallion at the front of the group – a sergeant from the looks of his insignia – walked directly to me at the bar, but in an act of patience that I wasn’t expecting at least allowed me to finish dealing with my customer before addressing me. “Sir,” he said, his tone all business, “we have a royal edict to search this premises from top to bottom. I’m going to need you to vacate all of the patrons so we can conduct a thorough exam of the building.” I gawped. “What?” was my first, dumbstruck response. Followed swiftly by anger. “On whose say-so?!” “Uh... that would be mine,” came a voice from the rear, authoritative but at the same time bearing a touch of the nerves. The guards-ponies parted – or at least they tried to, several of them already regretting marching so boldly into a room wearing full armour when there had been barely any free space to begin with – to allow the approach of the voice’s owner. She came to the bar and spoke to me. “I’m very sorry about this,” she said. “I’m really hoping to do this with your co-operation. Please?” I felt my brow knit into an angrier frown. “Twilight—” I started before catching myself. “Princess Twilight... what are you doing? What’s the meaning of this?!” I asked in a low voice meant for her and not for the sergeant. She gave a professional, but sympathetic look back. “Ponyville has officially declared Applejack as a Missing Pony. We’re starting to organise search-parties to go looking for her, but before we do, we have to search the place she was last seen. It’s standard procedure.” “This is ridiculous!” I cried. “She’s not here, Twilight! If she were, I think I would have noticed sometime in the last few days!” “But we have to eliminate this building before we start searching elsewhere!” argued Twilight. “What if there’s some clue here that could tell us where she’s gone? We might waste valuable time later searching all the wrong places if we don’t look here first. A thorough search of the place she was last known to be is the only logical first step to finding her.” She took a breath and her face softened. She lowered her voice to match mine, her dialogue now only for my ears and not for the attendant guard’s. “Please, Single Measure. My friend is missing and I don’t know where she is. I just want to find her. I want her back safe. Please, just let us look. We’ll be as fast as we can.” My frown lessened but didn’t leave. “You couldn’t have come yesterday?” I grumped. “There was no-one here then!” “Sorry,” she repeated. The sergeant at her side shifted impatiently. I gave a long, frustrated sigh. “Meet me halfway, Twilight,” I said. “Applejack’s not in this room, is she? Don’t make me turf everypony out onto the street halfway through lunch. Start upstairs, in the back, wherever. At least give the ones who are eating a chance to finish.” “Fair enough,” she agreed. Turning to the sergeant she gave a nod. The sergeant addressed me. “Sir?” I pointed to the doorway in the wall to my right. “Through there,” I said. He glanced at the door, nodded and headed through it, the remainder of his company following behind in single file. There is a brass bell suspended from a bracket on the left wall just above where the bar meets it. At the end of every night I ring it once to signal Last Orders and twice to call Time. Using my magic I gave it two loud rings now and reluctantly raised my head to address the ponies in the room in my best professional voice. “Fillies and Gentlecolts,” I called, “I regret that the Roses is forced to close early this lunchtime. I must ask all of you to gather any belongings you may have and make your way outside. Those of you still eating are welcome to remain until you have finished. Those of you who have not yet paid will not be charged for your meals or drinks. I sincerely regret the inconvenience this may cause you all, but please believe I would not be asking if it were not absolutely necessary.” Around the room surprised chatter began to brew and ponies started getting to their hooves. Some with looks of bafflement, some looking annoyed. Quite possibly several of them wouldn’t be coming back for a long while and who could blame them? The exodus was slow at first, but at least they were being allowed to leave on their own terms and not ejected by a phalanx of soldiers. Two minutes later and by the time the hubbub had died down the entire bar had emptied. Even the tables that still had half-full plates on them were now disappointingly vacant, despite my attempts to reassure the ponies at them to stay. Having your lunch interrupted by a platoon of armoured guards probably didn’t make for a relaxing atmosphere, I supposed. Then there was a commotion of an entirely different kind, coming from the rear of the pub. A lot of angry shouting and near-swearing accompanied by a great deal of bluster that could only be one pony. A moment later Waldorf and Silver Lining, both exasperated, came stampeding through the door into the bar. “Boss...? what’s happening?” asked Silver, only to be drowned out by the chef. “Single! What’s going on!? Why are there half a dozen guards going through my fridges!?” cried Waldorf, a thick-set earth-pony with a pale grey coat and green eyes framed by bushy white eyebrows. “Calm down, Wally. They won’t be long.” “I have eight salads out there ready to go and now they’re going to go to waste!” he shouted. “And Celestia help them if their clumsy hooves mess up my desserts!” He directed his attention to Twilight. “You haven’t heard the last of this, Princess! I’ll put in a complaint to the Mayor. And Single! Why are you letting them do this? Coming in here, poking their noses in wherever they want?” I glared at Waldorf for a quiet moment before I found my reply. “Because the sooner they’re done here the sooner they can start looking for Applejack,” I said levelly. “She’s missing, Wally. That’s all this is about. Twilight wants to start searching as soon as possible and this is step one. And if them starting here now means she’s found okay later, then as far as I’m concerned that’s a good result. If your salads spoil, you can make more. If our customers leave we’ll work hard to bring them back. But if Applejack isn’t found... unless you know where to get another one, I don’t know how to fix that.” Waldorf snorted an indignant snort, but I’ve known him long enough to know that that means he’s accepted what I’ve said. Whether it’s because I’ve convinced him, or because I’m his boss, is more difficult to determine. Silver Lining nodded agreeably and looked up at Waldorf with an encouraging smile. “Come on, Wally. Let’s get back in there. I’m sure if you ask them nicely they’ll be gentle with your puddings.” She led him back through the door towards the rear of the building. “Thank you,” Twilight said to me. “If it helps you find her sooner...” I said dispassionately. “Look, uh... since you’re helping and all... I wondered if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions about Sunday night?” I tried to stifle a groan. “Fine. Go on.” But instead of asking me a question, she turned toward the front door and called out. “Rarity?” A moment later, through the door waltzed Rarity, very much making an entrance. At her side was Spike, looking devotedly at her as he tends to. But Rarity herself! What was she even...? She was wearing a long, navy blue trenchcoat and a dark, wide-brimmed fedora, with eyelashes that looked twice as long as normal, even for her. She walked with a slow swish and her face was hard and cold, but somehow not seriously so. As though she were relishing playing the private eye from some pulpy detective novel or something. Twilight looked back to me apologetically. “She does have the most amazing eye for detail...” Rarity stopped at the bar next to Twilight and Spike hopped onto a bar-stool to the left of the two mares. Rarity gave me a smile I could only describe as, ‘sultry’ while Twilight tried, apparently, to will the floor to open up and swallow her. “My good stallion,” began Rarity in a husky voice. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to mix me a... vodka martini? Shaken. Not stirred.” I gave her a scowl. “Sorry,” I said. “Bar’s closed. Haven’t you heard? A bunch of Royal Guards closed the pub so they can search it.” “Ah... uh... well yes, I suppose...” stammered Rarity, losing her verbal footing. I brought a hoof to my head and gave another long sigh. “Look, I’m having a really bad day, apparently. So tell me what you need to know and I’ll tell you what I can. And then I think I’m going to lie down.” Rarity nodded. “Well, can you tell us what time she came in...?” I told them everything I knew, recounting the events from Sunday evening as best I could. An eye for detail is one thing, but Rarity’s interrogation was relentless. Thorough though, and I couldn’t fault it. More than once she managed to tease details out of me that I hadn’t initially recalled just by asking the right questions, but even so none of it sounded helpful to my ears. I even directed them to the table near the window that Applejack had sat at, which they examined thoroughly. Eventually I’d told them everything I had to offer, including what Applejack had ordered, and described how far she’d let herself go; how I’d been worried for her when she started stumbling her way towards the door; and how I’d insisted she stay the night in one of the vacant rooms upstairs. The next morning I’d found her already gone. “Can we see the room?” asked Rarity. I turned and retrieved the key from its hook behind the bar. “Upstairs, last one on the left,” I said, motioning them towards the door. The two mares left, leaving Spike sat on the bar-stool and the room otherwise empty. “So, uh... how ‘bout a beer?” he chanced. “In your dreams, Spike,” I retorted. “Fine. Apple juice?” I let out a low grumble. “Alright, sure,” I agreed. An hour later the sergeant came to me and asked me to join him in the corridor. I stood with him in front of the doorway between the kitchen door and the one leading into the bar. “We’ve searched the whole building except this cupboard,” he said. “It’s locked. If you wouldn’t mind?” I rolled my eyes. “It isn’t locked it’s just... stiff!” I said, giving the stuck door a forceful shove with my shoulder. “And it’s not a cupboard, it’s the cellar.” I gestured towards the narrow set of stairs revealed beyond the opening door, leading down into the stone-walled basement. “What’s down there?” “Wine racks, barrels, pipes, bottles of spirits and soft drinks...” I said. The sergeant considered the gloomy staircase and then turned to the nearest of his guards. “Private?” “Yes sir,” replied the guard, trotting smartly down the steps, the other six guards chuntering after him into a cellar that would be a pretty tight squeeze for all of them. A quiet moment passed. “We’ll be out of your mane soon,” assured the sergeant. I could only muster a grunt in reply. There was more chuntering, and six guards came trotting back up the cellar steps one by one, with the private that the sergeant had spoken to bringing up the rear. “We found this spoon, sir!” he said, holding up a large, completely unremarkable wooden utensil. The sergeant examined it critically. “Very good, Private. Take–” “Just... give me that!” I snapped irritably. It was down there for a reason. It’s the spoon I use to gauge how full the barrels are by the sound they make when I hit them with it. I need it for working out orders and stock levels. It’s a very important spoon. I gave the sergeant a quite impatient glare, and at a gesture he ordered his troops back into the bar where Twilight, Rarity and Spike were now sat waiting for the search to conclude. “Princess, we’ve conducted a thorough search and we can confirm that there are no ponies here except for ourselves and the staff,” said the sergeant. He paused a moment and then continued, slightly less formally. “I’m afraid we’ve found nothing that could point us in the right direction either,” he said with a clear air of disappointment. “Thank you, sergeant,” said Twilight. “Take the guards outside and we’ll begin organising the search proper. We’ll be out in a moment.” “Yes, your highness.” The eight guards quick-marched out of the pub, their armour still making that metallic chuntering noise. With the guards gone and silence falling once more, Twilight seemed to take a reflective moment for herself and then turned to her friend. “Rarity?” she asked. Rarity shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry darling, I couldn’t find anything untoward. Certainly nothing that might tell us where she’s gone.” “Okay. Spike?” Spike looked up from the dish of peanuts on the bar that he’d been scoffing, apparently surprised he’d been asked. He shrugged his shoulders, palms facing the ceiling. “I got nuffin’,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “Okay.” Twilight looked up to me. “Thank you. And... I’m sorry about all this,” she said, before turning and leading her two friends towards the door. As she reached it, on impulse I called out. “Twilight? If you need help searching...?” She smiled back. “We’ve got it covered for now. But when we get to the point where we need more ponies... thanks.” And with that they were gone. I stood at the bar for a moment in silence. After half a minute the door to my right opened, admitting Silver Lining who must have caught my expression. “You alright, boss?” “Yeah,” I said, looking up. “How’s Wally? He didn’t upset the guards too much did he?” “No, he was okay. He gets it.” “Okay. Good.” “So... what’s the story? Are we open again?” I checked the clock to find it was past three o’clock already. “We’ll open back up this evening,” I said. I just hoped I’d have some customers to show for it. * * * In the event, Wednesday evening wasn’t the disaster I had expected. A large number of ponies had been out searching in Twilight’s search parties it seemed, but when the sun went down there was little else that could reasonably be done and so they all naturally gravitated to a place where they could gather, rest, and more importantly, talk. The pub was about half full of weary ponies by the time it was full dark. There were stories told and complaints made, but nothing more than the normal groans and grumbles to accompany a day’s worth of fruitless effort. Where I could I tried to play the part of the upbeat, encouraging host but it was increasingly apparent that even after only an afternoon of searching, most ponies believed no progress had been made at all, and took it in disheartening fashion. And none seemed more disheartened than Fluttershy, who came in on her own late in the evening. She wandered into the pub looking a little unsure and a little lost, as she often does when she comes here. She’s normally with one of her friends when she shows her muzzle at the Roses, and she’s an infrequent visitor even then. Ponies come to the pub to socialise after all, and that isn’t really her game. She ambled to the bar looking tired and sour, clambering onto one of the high stools on the opposite side of the counter to myself. She met my gaze briefly. “Um... hi. Ginger ale, please?” I nodded with a smile and set to fixing the drink for her. Fluttershy doesn’t seem to drink alcohol, at least not in anything other than the most innocent of doses. I slid a full glass of cloudy ginger-ale towards her and she took it with a ‘thank you,’ and then turned quiet again. It took me a few visits to work it out – or at least I think I’ve worked it out – but when Fluttershy comes here it’s because she wants to talk. The only problem with that is that she doesn’t talk, so instead, you have to talk to her. That role’s normally filled by one of her friends, but in their absence it seems to fall to me. I’m not so presumptuous as to imagine Fluttershy considers me a friend, and I’m certainly no substitute for the ponies she spends so much time with, but I like to think I have at least a basic rapport with her. Enough that she’ll at least tell me what’s bothering her. My normal rule is that I wait for the customer to decide if they want a conversation from me, but she’s the exception. “So, what brings you here?” I asked cordially. She shuffled her glass around but didn’t take a drink at first. “My friends are fighting,” she said. Then, with both hooves she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip before replacing it carefully on its coaster. Right. Not here for a spate of witty repartee then. “Fighting?” I asked her quietly, trying to straddle the line between ‘making conversation’ and ‘prying where I’m not wanted’. Fluttershy took a breath and sighed with a little shake of her head. “Rainbow Dash and Applejack fell out. Then Applejack went away somewhere without telling anypony. Now Rainbow Dash is blaming herself. She’s sure Applejack’s angry with her and that’s why she’s gone. She’s desperate to find her – I think she wants to apologise – and it’s getting to her that she can’t. She won’t slow down. She won’t talk to us. She looks tired and I don’t think she slept well last night. Twilight tried to talk to her today and she just shouted back and flew off.” I nodded quietly, still reluctant to tread this area. But if this was what Fluttershy had come to talk about it was difficult to avoid, and strong though my desire was not to intrude into so personal a topic, I’m not made of stone and curiosity had been gradually getting to me all week. Besides, if I went too far I was sure Fluttershy would either tell me, or stop telling me anything. “Applejack and Rainbow Dash fell out?” “On Sunday,” she nodded. “I mean they have little arguments all the time, but this was... bigger. I don’t even really know what started it. I just remember that Rainbow Dash got a bit too angry and said something she shouldn’t have. I know she didn’t mean it, but Applejack looked so awful for a moment and then her face just... sort of went blank. Then she turned and slowly started walking and didn’t stop.” Fluttershy shook her head again. “We thought she just needed a minute to herself. We never thought she’d leave.” She took a gulp of her drink. “You think... maybe she left town to get away from Rainbow Dash for a while?” “Oh, no. In fact I’m sure that’s not it!” She looked at me with pleading eyes, begging to be believed. “They may argue sometimes, but Rainbow Dash and Applejack are friends. They’re great friends. And they’d never let one argument come between them, no matter how bad. I know that wherever Applejack’s gone, it’s not because she hates Rainbow Dash. Not at all. But... Rainbow Dash won’t listen to me. And every day Applejack’s still missing is another layer of guilt she’s piling on herself.” Hearing that, I suddenly felt very guilty – about snapping at Rainbow Dash yesterday when she’d blustered in at lunchtime; challenging her to tell me where Applejack was must have been the last thing she needed to hear. I gritted my teeth and shook my head at myself while Fluttershy fidgeted with her glass. “I take it the search hasn’t gone too well today?” I asked. The grumbles I’d heard from the other ponies in the bar made that a safe assumption. Fluttershy shook her head and took another drink. “I’ve sent birds to Canterlot, the Crystal Empire and everywhere in between. I’m still waiting to hear from most, but the ones that have come back have all said no-one’s seen her. I just... I can’t stand to think about it. That Applejack might be somewhere out there, alone and upset, and so far away from the ponies who want to make her happy...” She trailed off, her teal eyes glistening and threatening tears, and I felt a chill run down my spine as the conversation raced into territory that greatly exceeded my expertise. There’s a rule in Ponyville, unwritten but very real: no-one makes Fluttershy cry. There’s such a strong protective instinct towards her that triggering the waterworks even accidentally can earn you the ire and scorn of the entire town for months. “Whoa there, it’s alright,” I tried, floundering with great ineptitude for a tone approaching ‘comforting’ and words to match. “Applejack can take care of herself. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s okay.” “But she looked so sad... I wish I hadn’t let her go off on her own like that,” she whispered into her glass. “I should have helped her. She probably thinks I’m the worst friend in the world for not even trying. What if... what if that’s why she’s not coming back?!” Tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. “Fluttershy? You’re a wonderful friend,” I said softly. I stared at her until she looked up and locked my gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If Applejack thought she needed to be alone, trying to talk to her might have made her feel worse. Believe me, sometimes that’s just how it is.” It certainly helped explain how she’d been when I’d seen her: the look of relief when she had seen the bar almost empty; taking her drink over to the farthest table away and sitting quietly. I smiled at Fluttershy and carried on. “Wherever Applejack is, and however she’s feeling, I know there’s one thing that would make her happy. And that’s knowing she has amazing, caring friends like you to come back home to. We’ll find her. Alright?” She still looked upset, but she wiped her eyes with a hoof and the tears were not replaced. “I really hope so. And I’m sorry. I know you’ve got much better things to be doing than talking to me. You don’t mind if I just sit here, do you? I’ll be quiet.” “Fluttershy, you can stay here for as long as you want. I think it’ll rain frogs before I have to throw you out the door for misbehaviour. Are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m okay. It’s just this week’s been hard and I just needed... I mean, when the search ended today and everypony went home... well, I didn’t want to be all by myself just yet.” I gave her a slow nod. “If you want, I can get Wally to walk you home later. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” “Oh no, that’s very kind but I’ll be okay,” she said. She met my gaze again but with a small smile now. “Okay. But let me know if you need anything, and if you want to talk just catch my eye.” I was about to turn away, sensing an end to the conversation, when she caught me once more. “What you said before... you... really think she’s okay?” she asked. I didn’t know, of course, and I think she was aware of that. But it didn’t change the fact that she needed to hear the answer. I locked her gaze with a warm smile. “Yes I do.” I hope. Thursday On Thursday the search really kicked into high gear, and though I’d offered to be another pair of eyes for Twilight it quickly became obvious that I was actually more use being at the Roses than out in the field. Similar to the previous evening, the Roses had become a kind of unofficial hub where ponies involved in the search would gather – either before being told where they were needed or after they were done with their tasks. From there, within just a couple of hours, it had become the de facto assembly point for any teams about to be sent out, and for any search parties coming back to report. And it was clear by that stage that the best way for me to aid the searchers was to help keep them searching. I’d moved most of the tables to the left side of the bar leaving a space in the middle of the room, and along the opposite wall put two of the longer, rectangular tables end-to-end. I filled the tables with as much bottled water, lemonade, ginger-ale and buckets of ice as I had to hoof, and Waldorf made plates of daffodil-and-cucumber sandwiches and cupcakes for those that were hungry, all in aid of the effort. Twilight and Spike set themselves up at a borrowed table just out front of the pub, Twilight acting as the General with a large map spread out across the tabletop – complete with little model ponies to represent current search areas in fact! – marking off sectors with a red crayon as teams reported in, and giving them new instructions at the same time. Then the searching ponies would come inside, grab a drink, a sandwich, sit and talk with any other recently arrived groups for five to ten minutes before heading back out to begin the cycle again. I’d lost Silver Lining for the day – she’d begged me to let her be a part of the search effort and I couldn’t tell her no. An extra pair of eyes in the sky was a valuable asset and besides, it was obvious that lunch and dinner weren’t exactly going to be run in the usual fashion today, and probably not for a few days to come either, unless somepony actually found her. It was as I was musing on this and re-stocking the tables with water, the pub otherwise empty, that I heard a new group of voices just outside. They seemed to be sharing a greeting with Twilight, and I noted that they sounded upbeat and optimistic in a way that few others had been after a day and a half of searching. Then the voices’ owners burst into the bar and it was fairly obvious why that might be. “Hi, Single Measure!” “Hi Single Measure!” “Hi, Single Measure!” I couldn’t stop a broad smile. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo always seem to have that effect on me whenever I see them. Well, except for that time they wrote an article about me in the paper, but that was a long time ago, and besides, they apologised for it. No such thing as a grudge in this town. “Hi girls,” I replied. “Help yourselves to lemonade and cupcakes. Here to help with the search?” “Pfffffffft, no!” said Scootaloo. “We’re not searching. We’re finding!” I blinked a couple of times. “You’re... what?” “Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle. “We’re all supposed to be trying to find Applejack, right? Well everypony’s out there searching, but no-one’s doing any finding.” “So we’re here to cut out the middle-pony an’ go straight to the findin’ part,” concluded Apple Bloom. “I’ll have my sister back lickety-split, you’ll see!” “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS SISTER FINDERS! (Yay!)” I scratched my head with my hoof, somewhat bewildered. “So... let me get this straight. You’re going to find Applejack...?” “Yep!” said Apple Bloom. “...without looking for her?” “Yep!” echoed Sweetie Belle, beaming with a wide grin. “It’s called goal-oriented thinking. It’s all about changing your perspective and stuff. My sister has a book on it.” “But...how...?” I asked, utterly flummoxed. Scootaloo fixed me with a devilish smirk. “We’ve got a secret weapon!” Then she blinked. And looked around. Then stared at Sweetie Belle. “Sweetie Belle! Where’s the secret weapon?!” “Oh, oops. I must have left her outside!” Just at that point there was a high-pitched ‘Arf!’ from out front, followed by scampering sounds and then into the pub ran Winona, the Apple family’s brown-and-white collie. Her eyes were alive and alert, her tongue panted, and her tail wagged eagerly. She raced to Apple Bloom, her claws clickety-clicking on the hardwood floor, and then noticed me and tried to jump up and lick my face with nothing but enthusiasm. “See?” said Scootaloo. “Nopony knows Applejack like Winona. She’s gonna lead us right to her. No need for all that boring looking.” “And since this is the last place we know she was...” began Apple Bloom. “...this is the best place to start from!” finished Sweetie Belle. “Twilight said that Applejack stayed in one o’ the rooms upstairs? Can we take Winona up to it?” asked Apple Bloom. For a moment I was caught in indecision. I don’t know much about dogs and their sense of smell, but I know enough to know that tracking a pony by a scent they’ve left four days previously can’t be done, especially not with all of the other folks that have come and gone in that time to wreck the trail. To let the girls pin their hopes on this seemed unfair. Cruel even.   But... if this was the hope they had... if this was what would keep them going until Applejack could be found... then to take that hope away seemed crueler still. And besides, what if there was a chance, no matter how slim, that something might come of it? These thoughts cascaded through my head, and so caught up was I with them that I didn’t even notice that I’d used my magic to remove the key to Room One from its hook and bring it over. Seemed I’d already decided without actually having to make up my mind. I offered the key to Apple Bloom who took it in her teeth. “Tfankf, Fingle Meffure!” she said, and then the three of them plus their canine companion were racing through the bar into the corridor and upstairs. It was only a couple of minutes later that they reappeared, each of their faces awash with concentration as they followed behind Winona. The dog was moving slowly, nose to the ground, but surprisingly with purpose. She stalked along the corridor, sniffing this way and that, always moving forward, but when she reached the door and stepped into the bar itself she became noticeably confused. Her head came up and her eyes scanned the room. Her nose returned to the floorboards and she tried again to pick up whatever trail she’d held. She wandered the room back and forth; searching now, not following, until she reached the front door and walked through it. When she hit the fresh air outside she didn’t just look confused anymore, she looked lost. She brought her nose back to the ground with more determination and seemed to decide on some unspecific heading, wandering away but her course meandering uncertainly. The Crusaders behind her though seemed to take any hint of progress as a good sign and so they dutifully followed her away from the inn, optimistically proclaiming that they’d be bringing Applejack home before anypony knew it. * * * At sundown the Crusaders returned to Twilight with crestfallen expressions to report the failure of their plan. Winona had taken them halfway to the Everfree before becoming completely lost it seemed, and thereafter taken them on a tour of Ponyville without result. But Twilight at least managed to cheer them up a little by crossing off the areas they’d been to in red crayon on her map, telling them they’d been more help than they realised. I fixed them all a milkshake each, and a bowl of water for Winona, but afterwards they nevertheless left thoroughly deflated. That evening, as before, the searching ended once day finally gave way to night. There were some complaints from the more determined among the townsfolk that they could have carried on longer by torchlight, but the simple fact was that the amount that could have been accomplished in such a fashion was disproportionately small when weighed against the benefits of a good night’s rest followed by another full day under the sun. Still, Twilight had agreed to at least write to Princess Luna, to see if she wouldn’t mind making the moon full for the coming few nights, to give them at least some light if they needed to work round the clock. Then she’d dismissed the search parties and I’d put the pub back to rights. I had more customers initially than the previous evening but they fell away quickly, leaving to go and get that good night’s sleep. I gave Silver Lining the night off – she looked far too tired after flying all day to wait tables, and with few customers in the mood to eat anyway, Waldorf and I spent most of the evening chatting over inconsequential matters in the bar. He left about ten o’clock, and with no other ponies in I thought I might as well close early and get some rest myself. I made my way to the front door, and was about to lock it when it opened and in walked Rainbow Dash. I caught her by surprise, stood so close, and after her initial double-take she quickly scanned the bar and noted no-one else in it. Her head hung a little. “Guess she’s not here then.” “Who? You mean Applejack?” I said. “I... thought I should check she hadn’t come back is all. I guess no-one else has found her yet?” “No. Haven’t you been searching with the others?” It was only as I said it that I realised that of all the search parties I’d seen that day, Rainbow Dash hadn’t been part of any of them. Her head snapped up. “Hey! I’ve been searching, all right!” she barked, taking offense where none was meant. “It’s just the way Twilight’s doing it is way too slow! I mean, ‘let’s look in all the places she definitely won’t be until she turns up’? What kind of plan is that?! I know Applejack. I know the places where she’d go if she was mad or sad or whatever. She just... hasn’t got to any of ‘em yet...” she finished sourly. Then her frown turned inward and she carried on, a determined note to her voice. “But when she does... I’m gonna be there for her.” I gave her an understanding nod. There wasn’t really anything I could say to that. Dash took a breath. “Look, I figured there’d be more ponies here to tell, but... it’s gonna get pretty noisy tonight. Just so you know.” “Noisy?” “Lots of lightning,” she explained. When I raised an eyebrow she turned that defensive frown on me again. “Just because Twilight’s not gonna look for her overnight doesn’t mean I’m not! I just need some light is all, so... lightning.” I hadn’t noticed it at first, in the half-light, but I saw it now. What Fluttershy had talked about the previous night. It was in the way Rainbow Dash’s mane was knotted and frazzled; in the bags beneath her eyes; in the sickly pallor of her coat and her voice’s hollow timbre. She was exhausted. Probably emotionally as well as physically. She was a cushion and a glass of warm milk away from probably the best night’s sleep she’d ever have, but she was having none of it. Not while her friend was still out there somewhere. With no-one else around I felt like I had to say something; to try and stop her from pushing herself until she fell apart. “Rainbow, don’t,” I said. She looked up, surprised. Then she frowned, raising one eyebrow. “What did you say?” “I said don’t. Rainbow Dash you aren’t thinking straight. You’re not helping Applejack by throwing Ponyville into a thunderstorm tonight. You’re half-asleep and you’re planning on playing with lightning? That doesn’t sound clever. And you’ll be waking up a town full of dog-tired ponies who need their energy to search tomorrow. Think about it. Go home and get some sleep instead. You look like you need it.” For a second her frown vanished and her mouth opened in surprise. I fancied it was almost possible to see the thoughts going on inside her mind. I was offering her sleep. She wanted sleep. Sleep was good. It was rest and recuperation and a way to free herself of some of her guilt for a while... And then her scowl returned and she glared at me once more. “What I need, is to find my friend. I can sleep all I want after I’ve brought her home!” She spun and marched out the door, head high, into the night. I watched her go and, after a minute, closed the door and locked it. I didn’t sleep well at all, Thursday night. The lightning and constant thunderclaps saw to that.