Petalback

by Impossible Numbers

Investigations

Ferns and bracken snagged on their manes and tails as they pushed through. Fluttershy flapped on ahead, wisely keeping clear of the muddy turf. Twilight considered following her example. Every step, she either got pierced by thorns or had to grit her teeth against branches trying to pull her hair.

“Ow,” she said. “Ah! Ow! Oooooow! Is it much – ow – further?”

“We’re almost there,” said Fluttershy. Somehow, she seemed perfectly at ease with bits of leaf and twigs in her pink curls. “This is the exact route we took.”

Behind them, Applejack squelched through the mud but was otherwise silent.

Fluttershy pushed a mare-sized frond out of the way. The greenery up ahead was definitely lighter, owing to the clearing which they now stepped into. Twilight and Applejack cleared the perimeter and slid down the bank, Twilight spinning slightly on the mud at the bottom, Applejack leaping and straightening up with ease.

“Well,” she drawled, eyeing up the blue hole above them, “Ah sure hope we have better luck than Granny Smith, ‘cause if even she an’ Big Mac an’ Apple Bloom put together can’t tell what this thing is” – she pointed to the two flowers on Fluttershy’s back, which were staring up at the sky – “then we’re stuck.”

“Just keep that rope ready,” whispered Twilight.

“Want an apple?” Applejack rummaged through one of her saddlebags, adjusting the rope coiled around her chest like a bandolier. “Got some sweet Galas tucked away here. Might steady your nerves.”

“I’m not nervous!” Twilight stiffened at a distant howl.

She glanced up at Fluttershy, who shrugged. “Timberwolves. Don’t worry. They’re not hunting yet. We should be safe from them.”

“Good.” Sensing this was slightly squeakier than she’d intended, Twilight added in a deeper voice, “Besides, we won’t be here long. If we can gather some clues from the scene of the crime, then we can solve this thing a little more quickly.”

“Suit yourself,” said Applejack. Crunching soon followed. Whatever she said next achieved little more than spraying red and yellow everywhere.

“OK, Fluttershy,” Twilight began, and then she blinked and looked around.

Not that she was sure what to expect, but this muddy patch wasn’t it. Where the trees stopped and the clearing took over, the familiar ferns and grasses and bushes stopped too. The entire area was a pit, struck by a gigantic mud bomb and then smothered violently with brown ooze that shone where puddles had risen through the surface. Stretch lines and swirls tracked the unseen forces that had lightly slid across and around.

Only one part stood out. Right in the centre, a massive rift had thrown aside folds of mud like flesh and skin. Bits of it curled around and back onto the muddy ground. Splattered chunks spread out on one side. Had a lone tree been violently uprooted, this would have been the result.

Feeling she already knew the answer, she asked, “So that’s where it was?”

Overhead, Fluttershy leaned in closer. “Yes, but it didn’t look like this. There was supposed to be a ridge right here. I remember the plant growing on it, but the ridge should still be there.”

“Do you remember any distinguishing characteristics?” Twilight held her breath; now she was close enough to kneel over it, the rift exuded a smell that scoured her nasal chambers.

“Yes. After the plant was gone, I saw white lines poking through the mud. I thought there was a boulder underneath, but then…” She gestured to her back, where the two flowers bobbed at her slight trembling.

Quill and paper popped into existence beside Twilight. She started scribbling, though she doubted they were going to get much from this visit. Not that I’m scared or anything, she thought, but it’d be best to get back to the cottage as soon as possible. To, er, continue tests. Yeah, that’s it.

Around the rift was a smattering of dots. They were not much further out than a couple of pony-sized steps, but none of them followed the splattered mud. Instead, they had scattered across the opposite side like flecks of black paint.

“That's funny.” Twilight stepped around the rift and peered closer at the dots. Horn aglow, she thought, Lift.

Black cinders rose out of each hole, aglow with her purple magic. Twisted and shrivelled as they were, they seemed slightly too heavy for their size, like picking up rice as heavy as marbles. To her surprise, the glow cut out. They fell onto the mud again, punching new pits into it.

“Fascinating.” Twilight summoned the black cinders again, only for the glow to cut out once more. “Why can't I pick them up? The spell's fine, so it must be some kind of anti-magic. Or perhaps these are fragments of the boulder, exhibiting its own magical properties? Some magical stones can overpower unicorn spells under the right conditions, but I'd need to check.”

Applejack strode up to them. “Ah reckon we should be headin’ back. Granny told me about places like this. Devil’s Gardens, she called ‘em.”

“D-D-Devil’s G-G-Gardens?” stammered Fluttershy. Another howl arced into the sky, making her squeak before it died away. She landed with a squelch.

Twilight leaned forwards and peered down the rift. There was just more mud in the boulder-sized pit. Applejack nudged her and pointed; opposite the black cinders, drag marks ran from the rift. They focused again; through the middle of the drag marks, a thin line had been cut right through the mud as though with a knife.

“So long as we’re ready,” whispered Twilight, “we shouldn’t have any problems with the forest. Er. I think.”

Another howl followed. By unspoken consent, the three of them backed into each other.

Now she knew what she was looking for, the thin line didn’t cut right through to the edge of the clearing. Instead, it curled around and followed the perimeter, shot behind her, and was followed all the way by a slight groove which the boulder must have carved out.

How strange, she thought. A boulder should’ve left more signs of its weight. Besides, why would an Everfree creature want to eat a boulder? Chalk, I could understand. In fact, parrots and elephants eat clay after all, which detoxifies the plant poisons and provides much-needed nutritional supplem –

Look, can I do this theorizing at a safer distance? cut in the part of her that was trying to slow her heart down. As in, somewhere not here?

“Uh oh,” whispered Fluttershy. As one, the others spun around to look.

Slicing through the mud, the scimitar-shaped fin cleared the perimeter and slid straight towards them. Brown blotches covered red flesh.

They watched it approach for a few seconds. Twilight’s horn flared. The air whipped with Applejack’s swinging rope. Fluttershy took off and hovered over the pair.

“What is it?” Twilight whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“B-B-Bull T-T-Tiger Shark,” Fluttershy whispered back.

And now the thing drew closer, she could indeed spot the black stripes beneath the mud patches. Twilight opened her mouth to ask what its next move most likely would –

Water and slop exploded before them. By the time Twilight stopped screaming, the bull horns ploughed through the rising muck and came screeching down, the tiger-striped torpedo flexing while its meat cleaver teeth stretched out of the gums.

A smack sent it flipping backwards. Briefly, the dome shield shimmered purple and rippled where it had struck. Then, the lump splashed on the mud and vanished under another explosion of water and slop, which splattered. Gobs of brown struck the surface and occasionally the shield.

The fin poked through and shot towards them. Then it slowed down.

Finally, it curled around and shot for the cover of the trees. Rustling leaves marked its passage until they too died away.

No one breathed. Applejack’s lasso continued to swish and twirl. Far away, some prehistoric moan rolled over the canopy. A flock of bat-like creatures briefly slashed across the sky.

Applejack, Fluttershy, and Twilight gave a single, collective “phew”.

“They w-weren’t here l-last t-t-time,” Fluttershy murmured. “A-Applejack? Wh-What did Granny Smith s-say ex-xactly about D-Devil’s G-Gardens?”

They didn’t see how she did it, but a blur and a whip-crack later, Applejack had the rope coiled around her again. “Nothin’ good, Ah’m afraid. She said in the olden days, there used to be empty patches in a forest where only one tree or one dark flower grew. So the story goes, the dark plant done a deal with Nightmare Moon, makin’ sure nothin’ else would grow where it din’t want ‘em to. She told me to keep clear of ‘em.”

“Really?” said Fluttershy. A weak chuckle indicated that it was probably a bit late to be hearing this now.

“What else did she say?” Twilight twitched at a rustling and shot a glance at the edge.

“Well, this other time she told it differently. Legend had it that Nightmare Moon used to go around plantin’ the seeds specially, an’ that she wanted to show her sister who was the better gardener. Her shadowy powers are what makes ‘em so evil when they sprout. Ah mean, Ah don’t believe any of it myself. Ah jus’ thought Granny was making up stories to stop me wanderin’ off.”

Insect-like chirps poked at their ears.

“Makes you think, though,” Applejack added.

“Yes. I think we ought to go back now,” said Fluttershy.

“Not yet,” piped up Twilight. “Applejack? The evidence bag, if you please.”

“Is that what they’re called? Ah thought you jus’ forgot to pack a lunch or somethin’.” Applejack slung the saddlebags off and plonked them onto the ground, ignoring the slight splash.

Twilight levitated a chunk of mud from inside the pit, and then scooped up a patch containing the black cinders. Ah well, she thought, we need what we can get. A clue’s a clue. And yes, I think we ought to go back now.

“Like, right now,” insisted Fluttershy.

“Just a sec.” Twilight placed the mud inside the evidence bag and lowered it into Applejack’s saddlebag. “We could be missing an important clue that, to the untutored eye, would seem insignifi –”

“Look!”

They followed her pointing hoof to the other end of the clearing, where a dozen curving fins poured out of the forest.

Saddlebags smacked back over Applejack. Rope sizzled under friction. Fluttershy rose higher while Twilight’s horn flared and the purple shield blazed into view. All fins closed in, a crescent of strange fangs aching to bite.

The leading pair exploded out of the mud, bull horns aglow. Fluttershy backed so fast she hit the shield. Both sharks stretched their maws almost into complete circles. Both pairs of horns flared.

The instant the sharks phased through the shield, Twilight barely had time to yell when the rope snagged at their heads and yanked them sideways. Thrashing bodies crashed into the mud, fighting against the lasso’s tangle. Behind the obstruction in her mouth, Applejack yelled two words.

Twilight focused. Throw, she thought.

Both glowing sharks hurdled out of the shield. Barely had they crashed, however, when four more rammed against the lower slopes of the dome, cracking it. Twilight gritted her teeth. Every crack barely healed when the four shot into it again, smashing new ones into existence.

“This is really odd,” said Fluttershy as though commenting on rain during a scheduled sunny day. “Bull Tiger Sharks always hunt alone or in pairs.”

“Not the time, Fluttershy!” Twilight caught two more leaping sharks and threw them as far across the clearing as her straining head would allow. Magic drops dripped from her forehead.

“No, I mean look!”

Once more, they followed her pointing hoof. The four rammed the shield again, yet around them the rest of the fins scythed onwards, curling around the obstruction or ignoring it entirely. Twilight glanced around to watch them speed onwards, into the forest.

“Twi!” Applejack yelled.

Four horned heads smashed through the shield, ducked back down into the mud, and slalomed between their legs. Twilight lowered the rest of the shield before they reached it, and all four fins carried on to the edge of the clearing, cut into the soil, and disappeared.

Another explosion: two stragglers arced over their heads from behind, horns aglow, evidently expecting a shield. Instead, they eclipsed the sky, ploughed into the mud, and, under a thrash of tails, vanished.

“They must be scared out of their minds,” said Fluttershy, shaking her head. “Poor things.”

Applejack spat the rope out. “Poor things!? Good gravy, Fluttershy. You can feel sorry for anythin’, can’t ya?”

“I wonder what’s got them spooked,” murmured Twilight, though a part of her agreed fervently with Applejack: currently the part of her knocking her knees together. At least two of the sharks had given her deeply unwanted views down their throats.

Fluttershy rose higher, clearing the canopy. She was looking at where the sharks had come from.

“See anythin’?” yelled Applejack.

Returning, Fluttershy shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

“Well, Ah vote we don’t stick around to find out. Could be more of them things lurkin’ around too.”

“I agree. We should have enough to be going on with,” said Twilight.

Hooves squelched on mud. She followed Applejack and Fluttershy to the edge again. None of them spoke on the way through the brambles and thorn bushes, except for the occasional “ow” whenever Twilight hit her head on a branch.

---

Pinkie’s head popped out of the mouse hole. For reasons Twilight really didn’t want to know about, the puffy mane was half-buried under a miner’s helmet. She also had patches of dirt on her cheeks.

“Uh,” said Twilight, leaning over the arm of the sofa. “Have you found out anything yet, Pinkie?”

“No sign of any light at the end of the tunnel yet, sir!” Pinkie said, poking enough forelimb through for a complex salute. Twilight recoiled at the pickaxe casually held between hoof and pastern. “But we’ll keep looking. Gummy’s got them working like slaves down here.”

This is definitely pushing her quota, Twilight thought. All I asked her to do was dig around for information. Do I really, really want to ask anything else?

“Listen,” she whispered, “if there’s anyone who might know anything – anyone at all – please, please, please don’t overlook them. We’re going to be at the end of our rope if the florists don’t come through.”

Another salute greeted these words. “Will keep digging, general commander captain sir! That rope won’t have a chance with my boys and girls tunnelling away. You betcha life on it.”

With a wink, the pink head popped into the dark hole again, her helmet clattering and spinning on the floor. A whip of a pink leg, and it too disappeared. Some angry rodent inside the hole squealed and cursed.

Sitting up on the sofa, Twilight sipped her levitating mug and scribbled notes down in the journal. Occasionally, she heard the clatter and metallic clanks of Spike emptying the box outside the cottage window. The blinds were drawn.

Calmly, she watched the three mares standing against the opposite side of the table. Already, they’d had to turn the lights on; the sky outside was darkening to dusk, and all of Fluttershy’s critters had vanished into various birdhouses and boltholes. Seven mugs steamed with hot cocoa on the tabletop.

“You’re sure you can’t see anything this time?” said Rarity. When she magically tugged the flower lower, Fluttershy winced.

Daisy the earth mare flinched, but steeled herself long enough to run a one-eyed gaze over the pollen grains hitting the tight shield. Behind her, Roseluck and Lily Valley lay where they’d fainted a few minutes ago. Watching the plant’s hairy roots strain and stretch around the wings, Twilight couldn’t say she blamed the two ponies.

“Hmmm,” said the only conscious florist.

Daisy reached forwards and twisted the flower head this way and that. She pressed an ear against it and shook it. She did a complete circuit around Fluttershy, who blushed at all the attention. Finally, she sat back down again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I still say the closest match is a sunflower.”

“But it’s dark and thorny!” wailed Rarity. Released from her telekinetic grip, the plant swung upwards, making Fluttershy grunt and wince. “And those red ‘A’ markings on the petals must mean something! You told me you were the experts!”

“We are,” Daisy snapped. “What we’re not is miracle-workers. Me and the girls have worked with flowers all our lives, from Abelia honeysuckles to Zygopetalum orchids. I know a fair bit about the Everfree plants… well, the ones on the edge, anyway” – she chuckled nervously – “I mean obviously, I wouldn’t dare actually go in, not if I could help it.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Rarity said with a sigh. “I remember you when we were at school together. You were a devil for running off with that Goldengrape colt whenever you got the chance –”

“Shhh!” hissed Daisy, throwing Twilight a grin with pleading eyes attached. “Look, my point is we don’t have a clue what that, that, that thing is supposed to be.” She glanced at Fluttershy and her face went green. “Sunflower is my best guess. I’m sorry. What else can I say?”

“Let’s go along with that hypothesis for a moment.” Twilight stopped jotting down notes. “If it is a member of the genus Helianthus, then what would you recommend as the most effective means of displacing it?”

Beaming at the chance not to look at the plant or at Rarity’s raised eyebrow, Daisy swung around. “Easy. Cut their heads off first. Then it’s a straightforward uprooting. They’re not difficult to get rid of if you really want to. The only thing you really need to be careful of is that you don’t leave any roots or bits behind, but once you’ve got the root ball out, that’s not a problem.”

“So why cut their heads off first?”

“Seeds. You absolutely cannot let a single seed escape, because if even one of them gets into the soil, you’ll be getting the secateurs out again a year later. Assuming they’re not perennials, of course, which most of the weed species almost certainly will be.”

“Great,” muttered Fluttershy. She screwed up her face when Rarity yanked both flowers down.

“I know that red mark is a clue,” Rarity insisted. “Give it another look.”

“I’m sorry!” Daisy yelped and almost tripped over her fallen comrades. “I can’t be of much help! If it’s magical, then I’m at the end of my book. I’m sorry!”

Twilight took another sip; in the silence, her mug clinked against the table loud as a bell. Perhaps now might be a good time to steer things away from stormy waters.

“Rarity, she’s trying her best. Please continue, Daisy. We’ve already tried pulling it out, you see, but it doesn’t seem to want to come out.”

“Have you tried digging it out at the roots?” said Daisy, and then she blanched under the two glares from Rarity and Fluttershy. “I was only asking. Or… or failing that, you could give it to the known pests.”

“Biological control?” Twilight scribbled faster.

“Exactly. We keep all kinds of sunflower moths and sunflower beetles in case anyone needs them, and there’s always grasshoppers. We always have grasshoppers. You’d be amazed how many problems can be solved or caused by grasshoppers.”

Twilight skewed her jaw thoughtfully. “But you’re florists. Why would you keep well-known pests?”

Daisy winked at her. “Gardening is like any form of artwork. Sometimes, it needs editing. Besides, it’s better to have the pests under our control than roaming wild and unchecked.”

“And you signed the pledge with the Equestrian Society for the Preservation of Rare Creatures,” added Fluttershy sternly.

A hunted look crossed Daisy’s face. “Y-Yes,” she murmured. “Th-That too.”

“I made sure everyone in town did,” Fluttershy said, rather too sweetly. “It’s not nice to leave them out or to mistreat them just because they don’t please us ponies. Every creature has the right to a lovely and comfortable life.”

Twilight squirmed where she sat. True, it does help that she can negotiate with any known pests, and maybe in a theoretical meta-ethical sense, she’s on to something.

Still, she could feel the awkward questions rising in her mind. They were questions that no one in Ponyville dared to ask, since no one knew how Fluttershy fit into the local ecosystem, especially where sharp teeth and bloodsuckers were involved. Even Twilight didn’t fancy an afternoon receiving a lecture about it. It would be like being savaged by a breeze.

Catching Twilight’s eye, Rarity let go of the plant, ignored the grunt behind her, and bowed her head low. “Very well. It seems we’ve gotten all we need. Thank you for your time, Daisy. Would you like some help escorting your friends home? I’d be willing to oblige.”

“Thanks,” said Daisy brightly.

“Oh, no need for that.” Fluttershy whistled. Outside, Spike’s clanking and clattering stopped as thundering footsteps closed in. “My animal friends can help you carry them home safe and sound.”

“Uh…” said Daisy, considerably less brightly than before. A shadow crossed the window briefly. Something growled.

Fluttershy whistled again. “It’s all right. It’s only Harry.”

“Harry’s…” Daisy squeaked, gaze darting to the window, “a bear?”

“Uh huh. Isn’t he cute and cuddly?”

A gulp. “He’s a giant… big-fanged… muscle-y… grizzly bear, by any chance?”

Fluttershy tittered into her hoof. “Oh bless you, no! Lots of ponies think that, but he was actually the runt of the family. You should see his litter brothers Paddy and Winnipeg. Oh my.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “They grow up so fast.”

The door opened. Harry the bear loomed as only a grizzly bear could and roared happily in greeting at the assembled guests.

Daisy fainted.

Once Rarity had levitated the three prone bodies out the door and waved off the growling, smiling bear – which tried to poke its head in and wave a paw at Twilight – she slammed the door and bashed her head against it.

“Useless, useless, useless!” she yelled with each hit.

“It’s OK, Rarity.” Fluttershy reached across and tipped the hot cocoa down her throat. “I know you tried your best. It was good that we checked with the florists at all. That way, we at least know that they don’t know either.”

“Whoop, whoop, whoopity doo,” muttered Rarity into the door. Turning around, she wailed, “Fluttershy, I’m at my wit’s end here! I’ve asked farmers, gardeners, the spa ponies, everyone short of the pets! If even those three florists can’t tell what it is, then what’s the point in me being here at all!?”

Her eyeliner began to run. Twilight hid her rolling eyes behind another shot from the upturned mug, but a small part of her wanted to give Rarity a duet. She’s right. We’re not getting anywhere. How can we even think of pulling it out or chopping its heads off if no one knows what’ll happen when we try? That could make it worse. We’re working blind!

“There there, Rarity,” she heard Fluttershy say. A chink of mugs met her ears while she scanned the notes. “Why don’t you get a nice hot cocoa inside you? Maybe when Spike finishes with the lab stuff, we’ll finally get the answers we’re looking for.”

Rarity gulped, gulped, gulped. Good grief, Twilight thought. That must be scolding.

Eventually, Rarity came up for breath and slammed the mug down. “I just know those markings are crucial. I could’ve sworn I’ve seen markings just like them once upon a time. Oh, if only I could remember! I’d beat my memory out if I had to.”

“Careful you don’t beat it too hard,” said Fluttershy. “I heard if you hit your head hard enough, it scrambles your mind and you could turn into another personality.”

Twilight lowered the papers; she wasn’t going to let that one slide. “Really, Fluttershy? Really? Where do you get these sorts of ideas from?”

“I pick them up here and there. Besides, everyone knows this stuff. Uh.” She blushed under Twilight’s stare. “Don’t they?”

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but in my experience ponies who hit their heads hard enough get nothing but concussion. I should know. I keep a tally.” It’s just as well unicorns heal fast, she thought grimly.

Outside, the clanking and the clattering ceased. All three of them checked the lighting at the window. Twilight drew the blinds back for a moment, and as they watched, stars emerged from the midnight blue and twinkled into place.

Spike pushed the lower Dutch door open and strode in, wiping his hands together. “All done! I’ll wheel the lot through the back door, if you think it’ll fit through. So we gonna make a start tonight? I can stay awake, I promise.”

“Well done, Spike.” Twilight concentrated, making the papers vanish, and stood up. “No time like the present, as Star Swirl the Bearded once said.”

“Wow, free cocoa!”

No one stopped him as he emptied one mug, then the second, and then the third down his gullet. There were bags under his eyes, and scales across his forehead and arms were scuffed.

“Dear Spikey-Wikey,” cooed Rarity, patting his head and avoiding the green spikes. “You have worked so hard, haven’t you? Isn’t he a gem?”

Yes he is, thought Twilight proudly. “Well, everyone’s checked in today. Applejack’s sending letters to her relatives, and Fluttershy’s critters are…?”

“Asking around the forest,” said Fluttershy, nodding.

“Yes. That.” Twilight hummed to herself. She could feel a lock of her own mane poking into her mouth where she must’ve caught it, and she found herself chewing absent-mindedly.

“Where is Rainbow Dash, by the way?” said Rarity coldly. “I can’t imagine she’s all that busy when it’s clearly supposed to be clear summer skies this week.”

Let’s not go there yet. Twilight didn’t need to see Fluttershy’s sidelong gaze, but she could feel it cutting into her forehead.

“Let’s worry about her tomorrow, shall we?” she said, hoping she sounded calm and reasonable rather than curt and needling. “Wheel in the lab, Spike. Hopefully, we’ll have this thing solved in time for breakfast.”

“Aye aye, Twilight!” He scurried out of the cottage.

“Very well. Let us hope for better tidings tomorrow,” said Rarity, striding out after him. “But I will get to the bottom of this, you mark my words!”

Give Rainbow some time, she says, Twilight thought once she’d closed the front door. We don’t even know how long the plant lasts. I don’t care what Fluttershy says; sooner or later, I’m going to have to drag that pegasus in.

“We’re going to have that thing off tonight,” she said.

“But you might not.” Fluttershy sat down, and the stems bobbed, a mockery of sunflowers in the wind. Behind them, Spike pushed the back door open with one hand while the other clung on to the handle of a large, groaning trolley. Things clanked on top of it.

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “We will, Fluttershy. We will. Because we’ve got science on our side now.”

---

Spike slipped out, eased the door shut, took a deep breath, and pinched his nose. It wasn’t just the sneezing this time, though the bubbling mucus made his claws slip a bit.

Both of his hands ached with cramp. He could still feel the metal touch as though he’d been clamping iron and steel all night, which he ruefully noted was more or less what he’d been doing. Within his skull, thoughts and memories throbbed with the pain of being called up for the hundredth time.

Beyond the timber door, muffled groans and fizzing spells came and went. Murmuring softly, Fluttershy soon eased Twilight’s complaints down to silence.

He stuffed the slice of red velvet cake into his mouth. It did nothing for the pit inside his stomach, and clumps of icing-topped mix tumbled onto the path, but the ache in his head died down a bit. At least he knew where he was with cake.

Maybe I shouldn’t have just stepped out like that, he thought. Hastily, he swallowed the slice and opened the door a crack.

“I’m getting some fresh air for a bit, OK?” he said to the warming glow. “I’m totally not bailing! I’ll be back in a minute or two!”

To his surprise, Twilight’s voice was not shaking with barely suppressed frustration, but was, if anything, soft and calm when she next spoke: “That’s perfectly fine, Spike. I know this must be exhausting for you. Go ahead and take a break. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“You’re the best, Twilight!” Yet when he closed the door, he could hear her muttering again. Suspicion raised its claws over his brow.

Is she talking about me? He pressed his scaly ear flap against the door, but couldn’t make out many words besides “plant” and “must be something” and “try this experiment”. Only after a while did he realize he was wringing his hands again, and he forced himself to stop.

What are we doing wrong? I know we should’ve found out something by now.

The moon shone down upon him, casting an opal patina on the rounded treetops. Stars twinkled in the stream. Everything beyond that was purely a black, empty nothingness. Quickly, he avoided looking at it, yet the yawn forced itself on his jaw, and he found his eyelids struggling.

Don’t be such a baby, he thought grimly. Be like… uh… Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious! Yeah, that’s it. Be a hero! A hero doesn’t get a stupid nap when his friends are in trouble. He helps them out, come rain or shine.

Guilt flared up in his chest. He checked the door again, but the crash of metal told him Twilight was unfolding yet another machine from her collection.

Nevertheless, Spike picked up scroll and quill. Despite the growing ache inside him, he shushed himself and wrote: “Dear Princess Celestia. I know it’s late and everything, but we’ve got a big problem down here. Fluttershy’s got an Everfree plant growing on her back! We’re trying to get rid of it, but we can’t find out much about what it is or what it wants or how to stop it. Can you help us out? I’m putting in all the clues and things we’ve gotten so far. Here’s number one…”

While he scribbled and scrawled and dotted the page, he sighed as the ache flowed out of his chest and along his arm to the paper. Occasionally, he tilted the note to better catch the moonlight.

Now this is more like Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious! He giggled to himself. Questing for to save the damsel in distress, the brave dragon knight seeks counsel from the wisest of all wise mares herself! Hey, I should write a story about that someday.

Once he’d finished scribbling, he reached under the doorway and added a stash of photos and zigzagging readings and copies of notes. One deep breath later, and the lot disappeared under the twinkling green of his enchanted flame, rising up as steam and across the treetops and out of sight.

“It is done,” he said in his best noble knight voice.

A deeper, darker part of him opened its eyes. Behind the shield of Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious, a shadow snorted.

No, he thought quickly. Don’t you start that! I’m not like that anymore.

Yet another part of him thought, Then how come you haven’t cured Fluttershy already? You must be holding back.

Spike folded his arms and scowled. I’m not listening to you. Why should I listen to you? You got me into trouble all those years ago. I don’t forget. Besides, Twilight’s giving it her all. It’s not her fault. I’ll bet only Celestia could figure this one out.

“Maybe I should go back in and help,” he whispered to the distant trickle of the stream. Another yawn forced its way onto his face. “Maybe I do need to try a bit harder. I could’ve missed something, or I could’ve found one of those thaumo-thingies. I knew ours was too old! What if it’s broken?”

At once, the familiar seizure hit his mouth, and he belched green flames. That was fast, he thought, heart leaping up at the sight of the sparkling ribbon and the sun symbol on it. Then the scroll thumped onto the ground.

“You OK out there?” said Twilight from inside.

“Just another sneeze! Nothing new here!”

Hastily, he plucked the reply from the grass. Spike took a deep breath before unfurling the scroll.

“Dear Spike,” he read. “I am sorry to hear about this terrible turn of events. It was quite right for you to consult anyone and everyone who could be of service, given the seriousness of this situation. However, I am afraid I cannot be of much immediate help to you. While I suspect I will be able to identify this plant species if given enough time – it does seem vaguely familiar – I regret to inform you that I will need to locate the academic source. Forthwith, I shall instruct my archivists to analyze the information you have provided.”

Spike ummed and ahhed under his breath. Of course, he had to admit it was always a slim chance, and the chance was still there after all. At least it wasn’t a straight “no”. He continued reading.

“Incidentally, I am curious as to why Twilight did not send the request herself. I note that you are the only signatory of the letter. While I would not dream of impugning her judgement, I admit I am concerned, and I hope there are no unfortunate complications.”

Complications, he thought, his heart sinking back into his ribcage. Right.

Well, she probably would ask eventually. But you know how she gets. It’s like the plant’s making fun of her every time she can’t tell what it is or how much magic’s in its leaves. I reckon she knows she can do it. She just has to.

So why did I send this letter? Did I doubt her too much? What if she solves it in a couple of minutes? What if it’s nothing? I mean, that doesn’t make what I did, well, bad. Better safe than sorry, right?

Behind him, a crash cut off Twilight’s groan of frustration.

And she is in a funny mood. She doesn’t like failing. Fair enough. Neither do I. But I just pick myself up and dust myself down. She leaps up and starts magicking up the place.

Another crash followed. Spike turned the letter over and picked up the quill. Since Celestia had been quick with her reply, he felt the urge to match her time. It was the least he could do.

Inside his head, Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious raised sword and shield. The shadows stirred.

No, he thought angrily. I do care. I’m doing this for Twilight, and for Fluttershy. I’m not doing this for you. I don’t need you. I don’t want you around.

Nonetheless, the shadow bared its teeth and unfolded its wings, casting a memory over him like a gale. Sleep tried to ease him forwards. The sun beat down on his back for a moment. He had to fight to stop his limbs curling up.

And there it was. A flash of insight, like a shooting star briefly shining across the still space between the twinkling lights. Frowning, Spike put quill to paper.

“Dear Celestia,” he wrote. “I don’t think there are any complications. Princess Twilight” – he allowed himself a grin – “can figure this out. It’s only a plant, after all. With all our friends by her side, she’ll have it off soon. She’s smart and she doesn’t give up.”

He raised the quill and reread the words. Out in the open, they seemed stupid, almost childish.

I shouldn’t have doubted her, he thought while the shadow growled deep inside him. She can’t find out about this letter. She’ll think I don’t trust her, or worse: she’ll think I don’t really care about her, just about getting the glory! But I do care! I know I do! I’m as much a pony as I am a dragon, and ponies don’t leave their friends for selfish reasons. So neither will I. I'm a better dragon now. Uh, a better pony. Oh, dang it.

Sweat tinged his brow. He felt it against the cool stillness of the night.

He could hear her filly voice, echoing across the years, yelling his name. Here and now, his toes curled with embarrassment, and he almost opened his mouth to yell back, to reassure her. There and then, the sun beat down, and he clamped his eyes shut and growled and wished the stupid foal would shut up and let him sleep already. In his head, the shadow of the dragon murmured in agreement.

Spike continued writing.

“But I’m a bit scared, to be honest. I think she’s scared too, and she doesn’t want to admit it. It’s not like asking the other ponies because she got a fresh start with them when she moved in to Ponyville, but she remembers you way back when she was very little. I think she still remembers what I did, and that she thinks you remember when she –”

Hastily, he crossed out that last sentence, and then scribbled over it for good measure.

“I think she’s getting a bit worked up about it, and in case she goes too far –”

Again, he reduced that part of the letter to a black shine. Already, his mind was weighing him down with the pressure of mounting sleep. Not a thought came in that wasn’t squeezed and crushed by it. Wincing with the effort, he shrugged and added a few final words instead.

“I wanted to ask just in case.”

Spike signed it and rolled it up. Another burst of flame, and the steam vanished into the darkness. Watching it go, he hummed doubtfully. Even his brave attempt at a grin twisted around the lips as the worry clenched his head.

I had to do it, he thought. I had to help. Twilight needs me, even if she won’t say so. I’m not some stupid dragon who only looks after Number One. I’m Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious! I’ll never let Twilight down ever again. A true hero takes a burden away; he doesn’t add new ones to the list.

Within his mind, the shadow dragon drew back and faded into the darkness. He knew it was still there, though. It was always watching, sometimes curiously, sometimes hungrily.

Besides, I owe her big time. I’m not there yet. Maybe I’ll never be, but it doesn’t matter because I’m doing it anyway. And I’m not letting anything happen to Fluttershy. Not after we first met. Not after I told her my whole life story. And definitely not after she saw me as Spike, not as some annoying pest or frightening little monster. I owe her big time too.

“Spike?” called Twilight from inside the cottage.

Rising up with shield braced, sword gleaming, and draconic armour pressing against his imaginary muscles, the imago of Sir Spike the Brave and Glorious swelled his chest. Spike wiped the last of the encrusted mucus off his face.

“You called?” he said.

“Can you come give me a hand with this thaumospectrometer, please?”

As he approached the door, Spike flexed his biceps and raised his fists. “You got it! Spike the Dragon, ready to kick some plant-y butt!”

Spike swung the door aside. Two silhouettes turned their heads to him. Warmth and light embraced him like a crowd of admirers, and for a moment he was insanely glad he’d sent the letters.

Perhaps, he thought, that was really the whole point all along, huh?

Twilight stood there, eyes veined and jaundiced, mane tearing itself apart through sheer stress, back slightly slouched. Even as he watched, however, her eyelids widened with new life, she forced a smile on her face, and her spine stiffened.

She chuckled. “Good break, was it?”

“The best! No two-bit geranium’s gonna get the drop on us, right guys?”

“Right.” Fluttershy sat down and nodded.

Beyond her, the table creaked with pipes and valves and gears and blank screens. Under their shade was the plate with the leftover red velvet cake. This time, he barely gave it a glance.

---

Comments

[Impossible Numbers]

7919583

Thank you for your patience, Flutternight. The next chapter is here, as promised. I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize for making you and everyone else wait so long. It's been one of those fortnights, sadly.

7920551

Funny you should mention the slaver sunflower... which by the way are absolutely terrifying in Ringworld. They're gonna take over, and there's nothing the inhabitants can do about it...

As for 3)... Someone just had to ask, didn't they?

[Cross Lament]

7944552 Hey, they could always call in Treehugger... if anypony would know if it's smoke-able, it'd be her.

[RoyalBardofCanterlot]

What in the world did Spike do that he feels so guilty about? I can really feel the mounting frustration. Exciting scene in the Everfree.