Transient

by Impossible Numbers

Hunted By the Horrors

Within an hour or a day, Pinkie had gone from marching to ambling to shuffling.

The tunnels never seemed to end. Corners, forks, twists and turns, and even the occasional loop glittered and sparkled as they went along.

Then she looked back at Rarity, and squared her jaw, ready for another march.

At every step, the rattle and the howl and the sucking breath never died away, but neither did it get any closer. She fancied, each time she glanced back, that a shadow flickered for a moment round the corner. It was never there when she squinted.

Rarity looked worse and worse as they went. The skin below her eyes sagged. All four pasterns throbbed, and after a while Rarity hobbled on a bad rear leg as though she’d stubbed it. Muscles in her haunches began to tremble.

So, Princess Pinkie Pie, Pinkie thought grimly. What’s so bad about these gems? Is it because Rarity feels so strongly about all gems? If one load of gems can make her so happy she finds her cutie mark, then maybe another load can make her so sad she... um… feels bummed out.

Pinkie glared at the passing flourite, facets like red glass. Nothing supernaturally bad radiated off of them. That ruled out that best guess.

Darn, Rarity doesn’t look so good. Maybe she needs to think like Sweetie Belle. I’ve never seen Sweetie Belle bummed out about anything.

“Hey, Rarity,” she said brightly. “Chin up! Why don’t we sing a pretty little ditty? I’ll start, and then you can join in. Ahem; ‘My heart shines with the light of friendship… Like these gems, buried deep but shining’…”

“Shh! Not so loud!” hissed Rarity.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Pinkie strained to hear, but there was no sound. No rattle, no howl, no sucking breath. “I think it’s gone now.”

“Not that… thing. You’ll disturb the gems. Can’t you hear them?”

Pinkie cringed. Despite popular opinion, she knew perfectly well what a metaphor was. The trouble was that metaphor held very little sway in a rock mine, where anything more poetic than “The ceiling’s falling” was not destined for a long career, nor was the pony practising it. Describing the ceiling as “biting down”, for instance, was not a helpful descriptor when rock monsters really existed, and it helped a working earth pony to know which was which.

“Um,” said Pinkie. “No. Are they whispering really quietly?”

“I was going to teach Sweetie Belle how to listen to the gemstones talking!” hissed Rarity. “Any aspiring fashionista should know what a piece of decoration says.”

Ah, thought Pinkie with a sigh. Now that’s a metaphor.

“Well, you can,” she said. “Soon as we find whoever we’re supposed to be helping, we’ll get outta here and teach her some Gemstonian.”

“Are you making fun of me, pink pony?”

Uh oh. The crazy cat lady voice. She’s got the crazy cat lady voice. Say something! “I’m… making some kind of fun, I guess?”

“No!” Rarity’s voice took on a faraway faintness. “I meant long, long ago. Long before she even got her cutie mark, or met Apple Bloom. Well, she always used to look up to me, the dear. I could hardly say no.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” Anything to keep her happy. Don’t trip me up now, Rarity. “Sounds like a story! Just keep working those chompers.”

Just keep working those chompers. It wasn’t a phrase anyone but Limestone Pie would’ve used, though on the farm it meant chewing up crumbly rocks to gravel for market, and it certainly wasn’t an excuse to keep talking.

Around them, the explosion of edges and facets and spikes and dendrites gave way to a solid tube of beige bulges. Checking the walls, Pinkie recognized the sandstone, coiled shells embedded inside it like cherries on a cupcake. Professionalism turned her nose up at it. Fossils in sedimentary rocks were worse than flies in a drink.

Wait… now we’re on sedimentary? What is up with these tunnels?

She slowed down to let Rarity catch up, and as she did so, she sneaked a sidelong glance. Rarity had bowed her head and was staring at the ground, which at least was still granite. When she blinked, the lids eased together, stuck a little, and then peeled apart to ease away.

“Must be nice,” she mumbled, “to have a sister who clicks with you.”

“What are you talking about? Sweetie Belle loves dressing up and stitching costumes.”

“Oh, costumes. Puh. She only does that for distinctly utilitarian reasons. My dear sister never developed the sophisticated techniques of the true seamstress, nor the penetrating eye of the fashion critic. Show her a cheap princess dress and she’s all smiles.”

For the first time, Pinkie wondered how many actual friends Rarity had in the fashion world. Lots of names, yes. Lots of connections, certainly. At least three good ponies worked for her in two different cities. But in Ponyville? Even Fluttershy’s obsession with haute couture was a flitting housefly next to Rarity’s soaring swallowtail.

Now there’s a vacancy I need to fill. “What if you taught her a few skills? Maybe she’d pick it up?”

Rarity’s mouth became a thin line. She narrowed her eyes as though the ground had offended her.

“I mean, I’m sure she’d get the hang of it sooner or later,” said Pinkie, sensing the gap that needed bridging. “Take me and Maud. When I got my cutie mark, everyone thought I was gonna drift away from the farm… which I kinda did. But Maud knew I still had rock farmer in me.”

For some reason, Rarity’s lips pressed together harder until they almost vanished. Her eyes were slits.

“Maud taught me all the deep secrets of rock farming: how to tell a rock was good quality or useless junk just by listening to it; when it’s best to play harp music before going into a Plutonic Cave; why upside-down rock cake needs to be upside-down.”

Rarity did not spit, but her lips popped out of place and it sounded as though she should’ve done. “It’s too late for that now, isn’t it? Sweetie Belle’s too busy singing and painting to spend any time with me.”

“Well, I spend a lot of time partying and singing songs, but Maud doesn’t mind. None of my sisters mind. Well, maybe Limestone, but she likes minding things, so that’s OK.”

Rarity’s face melted. She sighed at the ground. “I know, I know. It’s just… it could’ve been so different.”

Yeah… it sure could’ve. Maud used to leave home a lot before I even got my cutie mark. And then right after that rainbow made me smile, I got the three balloons on my flank, and bam! Suddenly, she was back home a lot, trying to teach me all these deep secrets.

Which is really kinda weird. I wonder why she did it. It’s not like I wouldn’t have learned it all from her before I got my cutie mark. She just needed to be at home more often. I’d have picked it up sooner.

Pinkie realized Rarity had just said something. “Wha?” she replied.

They passed the threshold of the sandstone fossils, and soon they were entering a rounded chamber, a node punctuating the endless tunnel. Below their hooves, the ground jutted like unhealthy teeth.

Recognition leaped onto Pinkie’s brain. Steps rose up and fell down all around them. Columns of rock punched through the floor or acted as tiles where they hadn’t outgrown their neighbours. Yet these ones had no white blotches of lichen, and no flowers grew between the cracks.

“Oh my gosh, look!” she squeaked. “It’s the Trojan Horse’s Causeway!”

She didn’t even notice Rarity’s blank look. There was no mistaking this one; how often had Marble and she hopped, skipped, and jumped across the basalt blocks, pretending the lower ones were lava? Even the steps were here, in their exact order and height.

But it shouldn’t have been here. This couldn’t really be the same one. That was supposed to be next to the sea.

“Ma and Pa told me that a giant horse stamped all these into the ground, and that’s why they’re such a funny shape! Maud got into real trouble that day. She told Ma and Pa that they were caused by cooling lava flows. No rock soup surprise for her!”

Rarity said nothing until they’d passed through it. Only once they were clear did she even raise her head.

“Do you want to hear this story,” Rarity said with a bite between her words, “or don’t you?”

“Sure! It’s just so amazingly weird, the same rock formation –”

“Anyway. I should tell you that Sweetie Belle could have been a true champion of the culture of clothing. Until not too long ago, I thought that was where she was heading.”

Pinkie kicked her enthusiasm down. Rarity wanted her attention. Perhaps if she gave it, then whatever was eating Rarity would soon surface.

Still, the acidic stench hadn’t died away. Ever since the fossils, Rarity’s face seemed to be made of diamond edges.

“We could’ve been partners in crime,” cooed Rarity to the tunnel up ahead. “Thick as thieves, criminal masterminds, the new firm of fashion. I remember how she used to dress up so, always putting on so much lipstick and powder. Oh, she was a clown. But a sweet clown. And she loved wearing fine jewellery.”

Poor Rarity, Pinkie thought, though she wasn’t sure why. It was a bit sad, maybe, but hardly sweaty fur material. Nevertheless, she stretched her head out and nudged Rarity gently against the neck, snagging a few of the limp hairs as she withdrew.

Rarity’s lips trembled, but soon she forced them to remain still. “She’s lucky, I guess. You are too, come to that. And Maud. And all your family.”

“You’re lucky, too.” Pinkie winked at her. “Is that all this is about? All the twitching and staring and listening to gemstones? Oh Rarity, you can be such a drama queen sometimes!”

To Pinkie’s surprise, Rarity gaped. Her eyes, if anything, reddened.

“Lucky!?” she hissed. “Lucky!? You think we stand even a remote chance of getting out of here!? And what do you think will happen when we do!?”

What the…? What is going on in her noggin?

“Er… sorry?” she said.

She’d meant it as a “sorry, say that again”, but Rarity gave a “hmph” and added, “So you should be.”

Frantically, Pinkie combed her mind for anything that would make it all make sense. She must’ve done something, but for the life of her she couldn’t tell what. She must’ve done something offensive, or else why would Rarity snap so?

“I-I was only trying to help,” she said.

They turned the twisting corner and emerged into yet another chamber. Only this one was huge, as though a mountain had been plucked cleanly out of the earth. Underfoot, the blotchy granite gave way to a red spread of skull-sized rocks.

And in the centre of the chamber, a vast block of red stretched upwards, its side streaked with the seismic strain of uplift. At a glance, the whole resembled a terracotta chimney. Then Pinkie’s eyes grasped its size, and she gasped, and the ghosts of a hundred Pinkies gasped back at her from everywhere.

“Holy moly…” she breathed.

“And of course, they grow up so fast,” mumbled Rarity, utterly oblivious and staring downwards while she shuffled on. “It’s really best to learn these things when you’re a foal.”

“Uh, Captain Rarity?” said Pinkie out of the corner of her mouth. “I think we have a situation here.”

It’s so huge… but this one must be a copy too. No way, no way, no way is that the real deal…

“Ha!” barked Rarity. “Now there was something Grandmother always used to say. Acting like some military commander instead of a country widow… never even left her cottage… no friends left…”

“This place has some serious bad juju.” Pinkie didn’t dare stop. Despite the sheer size of the chamber and the shuffling pace she had to take just to keep level with Rarity, they were past the giant formation and entering another tunnel before she’d fully registered what they’d passed.

That can’t be the real Nightmare’s Tower. That’s in the Rye Roaming Region. That’s the other side of Equestria from here!

Soon, they were back in the granite veins of the ground. Precious opal passed them like bleached rainbows. Crumpled crimson crocoite stuck out of the walls like shards of bloodied glass. Where the walls clouded over like thunderstorms, Pinkie recognized the dull glare of serpentine.

“Rarity,” said Pinkie, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you get the feeling this place is trying to tell us something?”

“Oh yes!” Rarity almost whipped her with her mane, turning her head so fast. “I can hear the gemstones so clearly now! It’s really quite obvious! Listen to them, mocking me and making fun of me! At least Celestia would be a thousand times more gracious about it!”

Sweat stung Pinkie’s face. Like most oddballs and eccentrics, she was fully aware of her own skewed tastes. Now, however, she was starting to wonder if her friends ever wondered, late at night, what else she was capable of.

She was starting to get that from Rarity right now. This sense that Rarity was a cracked brain away from doing something… unfriendly.

“Come now, Pinkie,” said Rarity. “You get shakes predicting things falling out of the sky. You’ve frankly done things with your body that should have landed you in hospital a thousand times over. And don’t even get me started on your outrageous eating habits. You have no right to give me a funny look when the rocks start talking to me.”

And then, as if on cue, the rattle echoed back.

Pinkie whirled round, walking backwards, but the tunnel behind was empty. Still, the echo rattled on.

Another rattle joined the first. This time, it wasn’t an echo.

There’s TWO of them now!? Panic sparked through her face. She felt her lips trying to draw back and her teeth scrape against each other. Bad, bad, bad, bad, BAD!

“They’re talking about my Grandmother,” breathed Rarity. She hadn’t so much as flinched. “My Grandmother used to be like me once.”

You know, shrieked Pinkie’s brain, I’m really starting to question the map’s way of doing things! How do I keep this stuff STRAIGHT!?

They turned the corner, and then turned the corner again. Pinkie stopped and rubbed her eyes. They were telling her that this was just another granite artery, but her memory was telling her: We should have doubled back to that Nightmare’s Tower. WHAT IS UP WITH THIS PLACE!?

“Do you know why it’s called Nightmare’s Tower?” she said, hoping beyond hope that it would start making sense to her too. “Hint: Nightmare Moon’s involved.”

“The gemstones say…” Rarity glared at a wall pockmarked with turquoise. “You don’t hear them at all? You? You must have worked with gemstones at some point?”

A pair of howls slithered through their ears. “Rarity! Gems don’t talk! Even Maud knows that!”

To Pinkie’s horror, Rarity cackled. Actually cackled, her voice stabbing into the air and crashing through the silence.

“Oh yes,” she boomed. “They’ve lived for so long, seeing everything! The molten ebb and flow of youth, the flash of living things that come and go, millions of skies and countless forms of darkness!”

Pinkie opened her mouth, but then yelped as Rarity seized her around the neck and thrust her ear-first at the wall.

“Rarity!” she cried out.

“See? Those were the gems I saw when my magic led me to the geode when I was a filly! Listen! Listen to their songs!”

Then Pinkie realized it was only surprise that had been on Rarity’s side. Her actual grip was flimsy. Pinkie could’ve wriggled out of it even if she’d been a newborn, but somehow felt this would be exactly the wrong response.

She just wished Rarity didn’t sound so delighted. It was like that desert town with all the creepy smiles. The body said “happy”, but “misery” and “fear” and “confusion” and “rage” leaked out of every orifice in an electric clash.

Feeling unnatural, Pinkie opted for silence.

As she stared at the gems, trying to hear anything other than her own heartbeat, she did notice certain things standing out. At first, her mind flicked through classifications in Maud’s voice: Native Elements… Oxides… Tectosilicates…

But then the voice grew more lively, less steady. Emeralds! Rubies! Chrysoprase!

“They’re… pretty?” she tried.

Rarity shook her head as though emptying a purse of the last stuck coin. “Pretty!? Well! That’s as may be! But hark! What say they!?”

“I don’t know! The only rock I know that talks is Boulder, and he only talks to Maud.”

“They talk to Sweetie Belle,” said Rarity accusingly. “They tell her all kinds of sweet, sweet lies! How she’ll grow up to be beautiful and elegant and beloved by all who know her! Well, I won’t let them, see!? I’m in tune to their frequency, and I know who’s talking.”

Reflected off one of the gemstones, Rarity’s face peered over Pinkie’s shoulder. Except… when she focused, it wasn’t Rarity’s face. The mane was lighter, the curls more bouffant, and the eyes green instead of blue.

However, when Pinkie wrenched herself free and spun round, it wasn’t Sweetie Belle standing there, but Rarity.

“They’re doing it again!” hissed Rarity. “Did you hear them?”

“No! But I saw –”

“It’s so unfair! Sweetie Belle had such potential before she got her cutie mark. She could’ve become a sculptor, or a poet, or an opera singer. All fine artistic professions.”

“But she’s still got her singing, right?” Pinkie tried a winning grin. She could smell the burning stench reeking off Rarity now. This must be the right track.

Rarity snorted. “Not that she does anything with it but mess around. She’s never been trained. If only she’d let me hire a coach for her, but she’s happy wasting all that talent.”

A third howl joined the two. Pinkie jumped backwards.

“I think we should do less yakking and more packing,” she mumbled. “That was a leetle too close for comfort.”

As they shuffled onwards, Rarity moaned and rubbed her eyes. Now that Pinkie looked, they were getting greyer around the lids.

“I mean, bless her heart! She used to try,” said Rarity to the granite ground. “Using that golden silk, trying to help me around the boutique, actually moving in with me whenever Mother and Father wandered off. Before then, she used to stay with Grandmother.”

That’s it! Whatever’s on her mind, it’s that! Pounce, Pinkie!

“Oh yeah, what was your Grandmother like?” With a chuckle, she added, “I still remember my Granny Pie. Whoa, was she as sweet as a sugar-coated chocolate smoothie sundae special! She used to bring us all presents every time she visited, and they were all exactly what we wanted. Really, that’s why me and my sisters started up the PSSSD – or now I should call it the PSSSDWR –”

“She sounds a bit like you,” muttered Rarity.

There was so much venom in her voice that Pinkie gasped. What is UP with her?

“Sorry, sorry,” spluttered Rarity at once, shaking her head and dislodging more stray hairs. “That wasn’t how I meant it.”

“Uh… it’s OK.” Pinkie drew a few inches away from Rarity. She was this close to bolting… but she knew she never would. Not in a million years. She drew a few inches closer again.

What is up with her? She hears the gems talking to her, she doesn’t like Sweetie Belle not doing any serious art, and now she’s bringing up her granny. Is this a family thing? Art? Is she going off gemstones?

And where the heck are these ponies we’re supposed to be helping? Was the map broken?

“I get the feeling we should’ve met someone by now,” she ventured.

They were still shuffling along. The tunnels now twisted and turned so often that they spent more time turning left and right than actually moving ahead. Pinkie half-feared the tunnels were going to twist on and over themselves at this rate.

“Grandmother was like me once,” whispered Rarity. Pinkie stared at her as they walked. “She was an earth filly, so obviously she was more into dirt and mud, but she loved collecting gemstones. She thought her destiny in life was to be a geologist, or failing that, a rock farmer.”

It wasn’t Pinkie Sense. Tumblers clicked into place inside her head, and she could suddenly see the story Rarity was going to tell.

“Nothing worked for her, though. She was like Sweetie Belle, except she tried everything with rocks and jewels. Decorating, embedding, fashioning them into drill tips or electro… thingummyjigs. And of all the things…”

She got her cutie mark in fabrics! Pinkie’s brain flicked on the light.

“Is that why you wanted to be a fashionista?” she blurted out.

A flicker caught her eye –

She rammed Rarity into the wall and covered her scream with a hoof. Hastily, she shushed her, pulling her deeper between two projecting flanges of pink-tinged rose quartz.

They stood still.

For a moment, they relaxed. Maybe it had just been –

Then the shadows curled round the corner. There were four of them, thick and tapering as swordfish, undulating their way round and following the tunnel. The air trembled with their passing. Wet sniffs followed them. Slimy sucking noises buzzed about their heads like wasps. A flick of their tails, and they cruised as one round the next corner and out of sight.

The five howls echoed through the tunnel, and then died away. A sixth responded from much further back, but its drawn-out cry was getting louder fast. A seventh rattled instead, from further ahead.

“You gotta laugh…” whimpered Pinkie in an undertone. “You gotta smile… Don’t fear the monsters… Though they’re vile…”

Rarity wrenched the hoof off her mouth. “Pinkie! This is no time for singing!”

They fell forwards. Neither of them spoke for a while.

The tunnels continued to twist and coil. Soon, they were spiralling down a helix, never seeing any change in the curvature.

“Your Grandmother never sang songs to you?” tried Pinkie. “Mine sang all the time. And she threw us parties every birthday. Rock parties with sand confetti and Ma’s favourite hymns, but still.”

“Oh, she wasn’t the singing type,” said Rarity, glancing at Pinkie every now and then. “But yes, she did find her calling in fashion and fripperies. I won’t say I exactly took her example – oh no, I had my own ideas of what constituted the noble arts – but I daresay she was a notable influence.”

As they went along, Pinkie noticed changes in the wall’s composition too. Until now, all colours had been there, and all shapes from spikes to bulbs to sheer flat surfaces. Now, they were starting to smooth out. The gemstones were spaced out more widely. The granite wall darkened as though stained or moistened. Their tunnel seemed to be getting darker too.

She glanced over her shoulder. The tunnel behind them was…

No, that can’t be right.

It should have been a riot of colour and shapes. But the riot was dying as she watched. Now it looked no different from the tunnel up ahead.

“Of course, Sweetie Belle’s got all that to look forward to,” muttered Rarity to the ground again. “Growing up, getting admirers, falling for stallions. Ah, the follies of youth.”

Rarity’s hairs started to dim too. It wasn’t just the tunnel’s lighting; strands faded to grey as Pinkie watched.

“What do you mean?” Pinkie said. “And, uh, I don’t wanna get your mane in a twist, but –”

Rarity barked a laugh; that was really starting to grate on Pinkie’s teeth. “Well, we’ll all end up there, won’t we?”

“Uh… we will?”

“I only really met Grandmother twice. Mother and Father thought she liked being left alone. Ah, but I could see otherwise. She lived alone, yes, but she wasn’t being reclusive. She was hiding.”

“Hiding?” Pinkie gritted her teeth. This isn’t getting me anywhere! How can I be so stupid? “Hiding from what? Was there someone mean she wanted to keep away from?”

“Yes.” Rarity met her gaze, and Pinkie forced herself to stare back, weeping eye be darned. It was like staring down the sun.

“Who?”

Tears shimmered on Rarity’s face. She was still staring into Pinkie’s wide eyes. Are you trying to tell me something?

Pinkie broke contact. Behind her head, a facet like a wardrobe mirror shone. Rarity’s gaze locked onto her own reflection.

They both stopped.

Rarity’s eye twitched, taking in the greying hairs, the wrinkling skin, the matting of her white coat, and the trembling of the muscles down her rear legs. Veins and tendons stood out on her neck.

A chorus of howls raced down the tunnel after them. Pinkie’s leg jerked up to flee, and then eased slowly back down.

“Let’s…” Pinkie winced at Rarity’s sudden spasm and blink. “Let’s just keep moving, huh?”

She was starting to piece it together. The few gemstones projecting from the walls were brilliant stars in the dying night of the tunnels. Rarity’s stunned silence sucked in all sound. Even the occasional howl seemed to quieten down and vanish as it passed over her.

“You know,” said Pinkie, testing the waters. When Rarity said nothing and didn’t look up, she continued, “Maud and I always used to talk about the ‘family legacy’. Well, Limestone talked about it more, but she was always like, ‘I’m keeping it going, can’t trust you clowns with a thing’, so I don’t count that.”

Rarity continued her policy of not reacting. Sighing, Pinkie ploughed on.

“It wasn’t so bad for us. There was Maud, and Limestone, and Marble. It really didn’t matter that I went on my own way. And Ma and Pa still loved me. Granny Pie didn’t have it so easy, though. She was an only child, and her parents were even stricterer. I mean, talk about pressure, am I right?”

Their hoofsteps only accentuated the silence.

“But you know what? Granny Pie never ever let that stop her. If she wanted to travel and meet new ponies and play lots of games and sports, ha! Not even Limestone at her roughest and toughest was gonna stop her. And she never changed. Even when she was really old, she still did all those cool things.”

And she rubbed off on everyone. She rubbed off on Maud; why do you think Big Sis travels so much? She rubbed off on Ma and Pa; they were always so kind to me even when I was a bit batty. Marble actually worked herself up to one-word answers when Granny Pie was around, and even Limestone didn’t shout so much and actually smiled once! Like, in a nice way!

Yet Pinkie said nothing. Sans any kind of cue or signal, she could sense it was the wrong avenue. Rarity’s silence had texture, and she could feel the rough edges. Even underfoot, the ground became scratchy and spongy like pumice.

“Uh,” she said, trying to second-guess Rarity’s reaction. “It’s OK if Sweetie Belle does things a little differently, right? I mean, she’s still happy.”

Frowns flickered across Rarity’s face. Pinkie wondered if another gentle nudge would help.

Then the darkness claimed the tunnel. They walked blind. Only the twinkle of gems every couple of yards told them they weren’t walking in a void.

“We’re totally getting out of here,” said Pinkie at once. “Pinkie Promise.”

Still, Rarity said nothing. Her stench stung less on Pinkie’s nose, though. She may have sighed; it was hard to tell amid their hoofsteps.

Rarity’s horn lit up, and in the darkness, her face was a battleground; riddled with the scars of stretch marks, sagging with the weight of invisible mounds and heaps, strained eyes streaked with tributaries of blood.

Yet, she was smiling against all that. Starlit gems twinkled in her eyes.

“Oh, you should have seen the pictures, though,” Rarity cooed. “Grandmother used to be so beautiful. She almost looked like me. I like to think that’s how Sweetie Belle will be when she grows up. So much elegance and poise. Such effortless style.”

Yeah, thought Pinkie smiling. Like Granny Pie. I even copied the way she bounced through the door on her tail. She was so much fun to be around. No one cared about the wrinkles or the baggy old clothes. She had the ‘thing’. Oodles of it! No, oodles and googols of it!

“I still have her old album somewhere,” said Rarity. “Well, I had to! Mother and Father would’ve lost it in their attic if I hadn’t. No, I had to preserve it for posterity. Such fabulosity could never go unexamined. She was a true inspiration to me!”

Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to realize, thought Pinkie with a thrill. We’re supposed to see just how much we have in common. Different sisters, inspirational grannies, making our own marks…

“What a lovely smile,” she said before she could stop herself.

For a flash, it vanished. Rarity shot her a sidelong glare.

Then she softened. Under straggly locks, the smile bloomed again.

“Oh, it’s not a patch on yours, Pinkie. And you don’t have to smother yours in guile and make it up with a bit of lipstick, like some unicorns do. Beauty,” she purred, “comes from the most unlikely of places, does it not?”

“You got that right.” Under her breath, Pinkie breathed a sigh of relief.

The further they walked, the lighter the tunnel became. The void now had walls and floor and ceiling. Grey granite stared back at them. Twinkling stars became twinkling gemstones and facets and swirls again.

Pinkie yelped and jumped backwards.

A second ago, Rarity’s horn fizzled like a campfire flame. Suddenly, it then billowed into a flamethrower’s blast. She yelped as the white fluids sputtered and rained down droplets over the ground, but then it dimmed and was silent again.

Both of them stared while the horn glowed red and then faded back to dull white.

“Wh-What was that?” shrieked Pinkie.

Distant howls chased them down the tunnel. Too late, Pinkie rammed her hooves over her mouth.

“That’s it!” yelled Rarity, ignoring Pinkie’s frantic shushing. “It was exactly like that! When I first found my geode and my cutie mark!”

“Rarity! Ex-nay on the outing-shay!”

“That feeling! That electric feeling! Oh my stars and moons, I could sing! It’s… it’s positively…”

Howls ripped through the air. They had a frantic edge to them. And they were coming closer.

“Pinkie, we’re saved!” Rarity seized her around the shoulders, and Pinkie tried to crawl out of her own skin. “The exit’s this way!”

“Oh no.” The stench, previously fading away, now swarmed her nose. “R-Rarity? How-how do I put this…?”

She stared over Rarity’s shoulder. The tunnel behind them should have been dark. Now it was well-lit, as if the shadowy interlude had never existed.

Pinkie could almost hear Limestone shouting in her ear, when they were both barely a few hands tall: Don’t just stand there gawking! Show some initiative! Do I have to do everything for you?

“Rarity,” she said a little more firmly.

“No!” shouted Rarity in her face, eyes wide, flecks of drool on the corners of her lips. “I won’t go back in the dark! We are getting out of here! You are coming with me!”

“But I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Rarity’s horn flared again. She spun it round, back the way they’d come. She seemed utterly oblivious to the triumphant shrieking howls closing in.

“This way! Of course! We shall be preserved for all posterity! Onward! None shall claim us!”

Yet as the chaos and the confusion swirled around Pinkie’s head – Rarity’s yelling, the sudden excitement rushing through her, the constant howls beyond them – some kind of spark lit up. She could see the rainbows, the bright hues, and feel the air getting warmer.

She looked back down the tunnel.

“That’s not the way to go,” she said.

“Pinkie, be careful!” said Rarity. “This could be our only chance of escape. If we give it up now, we’ll never –”

“I heard them,” Pinkie said. She wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. “I heard them talking. They’re making it up. We can’t trust these gemstones with diddlysquat. Trust me on this.”

“But my horn –” Rarity narrowed her bloodshot eyes. “Is this Pinkie Sense again?”

“No. My Granny Pie warned me about these kinds of places. This is some kind of eldritch merry-go-round. If we trust anything here, we’re only gonna end up getting lost.”

“Then how do you propose we get out of here!? And what is that infernal racket!?”

By now, the howls were so numerous and loud and frequent that they merged into a wall of shrill noise.

Pinkie looked down one tunnel. She looked down the other. Think, Pinkie! Think! What do we do? What do we do? What would Granny do?

She looked at the gemstones opposite. They just couldn’t have formed in the same place. It was unnatural. Either someone had to have set out to stick them into place – and there were thousands of them! – or…

The first shadows rounded the corner on either side. Both sides opened shadowy jaws long as a crocodile’s. Obsidian teeth gleamed at them.

Instantly, she grabbed Rarity by the shoulders and shot forwards.

Into the gemstones which popped around them.

---

Comments

[Stonecrop Sedum]

I wonder if the howly things are the ones that need friendship help.