//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 
// Story: A Blackened Equestria 
// by NightLord 
//------------------------------//

	Lyra was just finishing her first work shift when the meeting began. As Lyra had not attended one of these yet either, she did not know what to expect. Joining the crowd of ponies surrounding Zecora's home, Lyra noted that 'meeting' was not an accurate term. Assembly would have been more fitting. She had been told that a gathering like this took place every week, and simply functioned as a way for everypony to get up to speed on current events. Seconds after the crowd had gathered, Zecora appeared outside the doorway of her hut. Mounting a large boulder that Lyra had never noticed before, Zecora began to speak.

“I bring news. The great city of Canterlot has fallen. This has been rumored for some time, but we now have confirmation, thanks to a survivor of the massacre. Details on this pony are confidential, at least until we know who can be trusted.”
There was a stunned silence, followed by futile shouts of protest and muffled whimpers among the throng of ponies. Lyra knew that many of the ponies standing there had someone they knew, perhaps loved, in Canterlot. Whether that had been a family member, a close friend, or even just someone they knew in passing, the sense of loss weighed heavily on the entire assembly. Zecora had halted her speech, presumably waiting for the noise to die down.
As Lyra went over the words Zecora had just uttered, a spark of hope was ignited in Lyra. She realized that this pony, this Canterlot survivor, could be Bon Bon. Yes, the odds were entirely against it, but Lyra could not give up hope, lest she fall back into despair. Her mood significantly brighter, she listened to Zecora as she continued, noting the lack of poetry and rhyme in her words.
“There is more.”
The somber tone of Zecora's voice silenced the crowd. The feeling of dread was palpable.
“We are in need of new scouts. Because there are no volunteers, we have no choice but to enact a draft. Only fillies and the elderly will be excluded. If you are chosen, we will notify you.”

The following outburst was nothing short of a miniature riot. Lyra distanced herself from the main cluster of ponies, not wanting to be caught in any crossfire. While a draft seemed outrageous at first, Lyra could not think of a better alternative. After all, they could not all remain in this one camp forever. Inevitably, the Changelings would discover this place, and it would all be gone. Scouts were a necessity, the only way to contact the outside world. Maybe a draft wasn't such a bad idea. Never mind that now, though. There were more pressing matters at hoof. Despite what Zecora had said, Lyra was determined to learn the identity of the Canterlot survivor. If there was any chance, however minuscule, that Bon Bon was among the living, it would not matter how much trouble Lyra got into. It would all be worth it.

Later that day, Lyra had thought up a plan, one that she considered to be fairly decent, and was determined to go through with it. Now, it was time for the first step. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself. It was the time that would usually be night, and a significant portion of the ponies were fast asleep. The timing was an integral part of her scheme, as she wanted as few potential witnesses as possible. Nearing the entrance to Zecora's hut, she attempted to turn the doorknob. To her relief, the door had no lock, swinging open swiftly and a bit more noisily than Lyra would have liked. Directly above her, voices were emanating from a loft area that looked to have been a recent addition. Luckily, the wood separating herself from the other ponies was thick enough to absorb most sound. Though it was muffled, she could make out the voice of Zecora, as well as at least three others she did not recognize. Lyra could only hear bits of dialogue here and there, but it was clear that they were discussing the survivor.

The survivor. That was why she was here. Lyra quickly ruled out the possibility of this pony being upstairs, as the way they talked about the survivor would not be fitting with the pony present. This meant that the only option was the first floor, unless there was a basement Lyra was unaware of. This floor was really just one big room, with walls separating it into segments. Within seconds Lyra had found the pony. Or rather, a lump under the blankets that adorned the bed. A lump that was shaped very much like a pony. Lyra approached, waking it. A head peeked out from under the covers. Lyra felt her heart shatter. The head belonged to a complete stranger. The first thing she noticed was the horn, protruding from the long, tan mane. As the pony sat up, Lyra realized that this pony could not be more different from Bon Bon. She could see now that an ivory stallion faced her, an incredulous look across his face. 

Lyra froze. Before she could move, the stallion issued a cry for help. It was too late to run. Zecora was there in an instant, flanked by her council. A mare at Zecora's left was the first to speak. 
“What is the meaning of this?” 
Lyra began to answer, but no good explanation came to mind. Instead, she decided on the truth. 
“The survivor, I thought it might be my friend. I didn't mean any harm, I promise. I-”
“We don't want to hear yer story, Changeling!”
Her eyes widened in surprise as the older stallion chimed in. Something mentally clicked. Of course they assumed she was a Changeling. Who else in their right mind would do what she had? It was much more reasonable to make that assumption than to think she meant no harm, and only wanted the chance to see her dearest friend. Nevertheless, she needed to focus on her present predicament. It seemed that the best course of action available to her was silence. Not that anything she could say would make a difference anyway. Zecora nodded to a younger unicorn by her side, who eagerly ignited his horn. Lyra began to scream as her body was struck with a beam of light, closing her eyes and preparing for the worst. However, when she opened them again, nothing had happened. Another nod from Zecora, and two of Zecora's bulkier associates approached Lyra, each taking hold of a foreleg, causing her hind legs to drag against the ground when they began to move towards the entrance of the hut. As she was escorted from the hut, she managed to overhear scattered bits of dialogue from the remaining ponies still inside.
“-Prince's life in danger-”
“Who is she?”
“-Blueblood is safe-”
The very second she reached the exterior with her captors, she was tossed carelessly a few feet from the entrance, and the two ponies retreated back inside. Standing back up, she walked towards the caretaker's hut, where she would pick up the twins. As she traveled past a row of shelters, she began to analyze the details of her encounter. The most puzzling thing was the unicorn. What kind of spell had he cast? She guessed it to be some kind of detection spell, mainly because if there was even a chance that Lyra was a Changeling, they would have never let her go. Somehow, the spell had told them that she was, in fact, a pony. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized just how lucky she was. Had there been no way to prove her innocence, there was no telling what could have happened to her. And even with them knowing she was a pony, she was still surprised that there had been no punishment. Breaking into other ponies huts was still a crime, even if there was no malicious intent. It didn't matter now though, she had been let go and that was what mattered.
And then there was the pony she had found. This time, she did not need to speculate. She knew exactly who Prince Blueblood was. Although she was immensely let down that Bon Bon had not been under those bed sheets, knowing Blueblood was alive was still a relief. Although Lyra had never met him personally, she had heard of his extensive resources, and knew he could be a great asset to their struggling settlement. Nearing the caretaker's hut, she tried her best to get these thoughts out of her head. She had enough to stress about as it was.

Lyra had hardly reached their residence, and was just getting the twins settled into bed, when there came a knock at the door. Opening it, she found one of the ponies from Zecora's council, a grim look on her face. The mare's voice came clear and militant, though there was a suppressed hint of sympathy that became more evident when her eyes fell upon the already sleeping twins.
“You have been selected for Scout Unit Three. You are ordered to be present at the Scout center in 10 hours, where you will be given more details.”
The mare paused for a moment, and nodded towards the foals.
“My condolences.”