Bolted Cloth

by Waxworks

Chapter 1

As a column writer for Equestrian Fashion, I had learned about many different ponies.Many of them were eccentric.You learn to accept those strange quirks as you get deeper into the fashion scene, and many of them were secretive.They liked to keep their secrets close and their talents eclectic, never sticking with one thing for very long or allowing themselves to stagnate.Stagnation was a death sentence to a creative artist, and fashion was no different.

My newest assignment, however, was something else entirely.It was a pony I had heard of: Miss Rarity from Ponyville.She’d been coming to the fore in fashion lately and I was the lucky pony who won the assignment to learn more about her.I performed my research, as was expected, and found out that she was a young mare.She’d been born to her parents, Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles, and was the first daughter of two.She’d lived in Ponyville all her life, and created her business, the Carousel Boutique, all on her own and made it into a success, with stores opening in Canterlot and Manehatten both.By all accounts, her success made sense.Her fashion was refreshing, interesting, and in the case of her Princess Dress, wildly successful, even when churned out one after the other.Even so, with all this history and a seemingly normal life behind her, I was conflicted in my assessment of the mare when face-to-face with her.

Rarity was… striking. She was skinny, like in all the photos I’d seen of her.Her face looked almost gaunt, but her fur shimmered as moonlight on snow.It was breathtaking, and yet, at the same time, unnatural.Her eyes sparkled, but the way a gemstone sparkles.Hard and unyielding, yet inviting.Prepared to welcome you, but simultaneously sharp and repellent.

In our first meeting, it was this alien mare that met me. All hard angles and short answers.She had done this before so many times and blurted out canned responses to every question.They were good, and her voice was animated, but none of that welcoming candor reached her face.Her eyes drove into me, piercing my heart and making me shiver as she told me how much she thanked her family for their support and care, and how much she loved her friends for helping her generously with their time.My journalistic sense told me that this mare, this gaunt yet graceful mare who had taken the fashion world by storm, had a secret.

I used every resource at my disposal to try to reveal it.If it were a dark secret then it could tear apart her career and make her into a pariah on the fashion scene.Something simple like sex wouldn’t do that, no.Murders and robberies danced through my head, but Rarity didn’t seem the type to engage in such simple, sordid displays.Her talent was evident, and my hunt through her employee roster proved that well enough.Sassy Saddles was paid well for her time and was a managerial prodigy all on her own.Coco Pommel was an up and coming creative talent as well, and Rarity wasn’t using any of her ideas, they were both individuals all on their own whose work would be unique by themselves.No, Rarity wasn’t a terrible boss, and I doubted she murdered ponies.There was something else.

Looking at her family, I tried to start there, because although I had heard of Rarity and her history, her family was a bit mysterious.Her sister, Sweetie Belle, came much later than Rarity, and so I was curious if Rarity had a fling and gave birth, leaving her daughter to be raised by her parents.This proved incorrect, as far as I could discover.

I spoke to her parents, asking for an interview with the parents of the newest fashion icon, and dropped my questions in there. “Mr. Flanks, Mrs. Crumbles, what can you tell me about your daughter when she was younger?”

“Rarity?Well, I don’t want to sound overly proud, but Rarity was always a little fashion icon. Her work in school for that play?With the gemstones?Perfect stuff,” said Hondo Flanks.

I knew the story.Everypony did.It was the one Rarity told whenever somepony asked her when she knew she wanted to be a designer.Or when she was asked about her cutie mark.“Yes, she’s happy to tell that story.But such a beautiful filly surely had the eyes of some colts, right?Any… heartbreak when she was younger?”

Hondo waggled his eyebrows at me.“I see what you’re after.Nice try, but I can tell you she didn’t.She was always too focused on work.”

“I see, well can you tell me about you two, then?The parents of such an enterprising filly who left home so soon must have felt rather lonely.Is that why you had Sweetie Belle, because you felt alone without Rarity at home to take care of?”

Cookie Crumbles answered this question.“Oh, no. That was just because of a little fun we had while on vacation!” She winked at me.“The cruise was nice, but it was awfully boring. We were halfway down the east coast when we grew tired of shuffleboard and decided to make our own entertainment!” She blushed and swatted her husband on his foreleg.

“I see.Well, thank you both for your time.I think I’ve heard enough to make a story about,” I said.

“Of course.We’d be happy to talk anytime.What was your name, again?” asked Hondo.

“Deadline,” I said.

“Well, Mr. Deadline, pleased to meet you, and good luck with your writing.”

Knowing that Rarity’s parents were a dead end, I had to try and be a little more drastic.I approached her friends and asked questions of them, but they told me the same stories as her parents.The odd thing was, her friends told me the exact same stories as her family.Exactly the same.There were no discrepancies, no changes, no oddities.They knew when Rarity wanted to become a designer, they told the story of when Rarity got her cutie mark as if they had pulled it straight from one of the many magazines that had published it.Mine included.Even her little sister knew the story.Her little sister talked about times they had together in more recent years, but nothing spectacularly knew.Her past was blank, save for a few recorded excerpts everypony could recite verbatim.

I eventually took my hunt from ponies to records.I stopped asking around Ponyville and started searching documents in Town Hall.Or I tried, anyway.Mayor Mare was not as welcoming as I had hoped.It seemed she had something against journalists because although she seemed welcoming and helpful, after a full day’s work of hunting through records and paperwork I was no closer to finding Rarity’s birth certificate.She apologized profusely, hemming and hawing “where those documents could be?” we never found anything.When Town Hall shut down for the day I was ejected with all haste and politeness and an unceremonious “Have a good day.”

To say I was confused and upset would be an understatement.I had something within reach that I knew was going to be one of the biggest stories of the decade!The untold history of fashion’s newest name was at my hooftips, but I needed to figure out what I was missing! I had to take a new angle, but I couldn’t figure out what else to do.

I woke up the next morning to find myself strapped to a cot.The room I was in was dark, and I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear the sound of metal creaking and water dripping.There was a thin crack of light over in the distance I was sure was a door, but I didn’t remember how I got here or why I was here to begin with.I tried to think back to what I was doing the night before or who might have attacked me, but nothing on me hurt.I felt in perfect condition, I was just strapped to a bed in a dark cellar.

I heard humming coming from the direction of the sliver of light, and hoofsteps approached.There was the click of a lock and the door opened, letting light flood inside.It blinded me, leaving only a silhouette standing in the doorway of a pony that was slim, with a long mane, and was a unicorn.

Then a familiar voice filled the room.

“Are you awake, darling?I feel it’s time we had a little talk, you and I,”

It was Rarity!Horrible thoughts filled my head of her using the skin of dead ponies in her art, carving their flesh from their bones and carefully curing it to be crafted into a lovely lampshade or a cute coat.I struggled against my bonds, trying to free myself as she approached.I tried to flap my wings, but they were trapped underneath me, leaving me helpless as she sauntered up to the bed.

“Really, dear, you must calm yourself.” She set a tray filled with food next to the bed on a small desk, and put a hoof against my forehead.“You seem fine.I apologize for the circumstances, but Pinkie Pie gets a little carried away sometimes.You blacked out and they brought you here so I could ‘take care of you’ myself.We just need to have a little talk.”

Rarity released my bonds and my wings sprung out, battering the tray and pushing it off the desk.Rarity caught it in her magic with a small “Oop!” and carefully arranged it back on the desk.She smiled at me.

“You should eat something.I don’t know what Pinkie put in your food, but I don’t imagine it’s very healthy.They told me you were asking questions, so, here we are.Ask your questions,” she said with a delicate smile.

I looked at her, then at the food.It was a fruit salad with honey drizzled on top of it.It was probably pretty, before I bumped it, and the glass of orange juice was now only half-full, the rest spilled on the floor. I looked back at Rarity.“Where am I?”

“You’re in the basement of the Carousel Boutique, Mr. Deadline.”She waved a hoof and clicked on the lights.There were bolts of cloth neatly arranged against the walls.There were ponnequins lined up in one corner, and there was all manner of fashion accessories, sewing equipment, and gemstones piled up all over.

“And your friend, Pinkie.She drugged me and brought me here?”

“She gets out of control quite easily.Excitable, but well-intentioned.”

“Well, you know what they say about the road to Tartarus,” I said with a grim look.

“Of course, which is why I want to make it up to you.You were tossing in your sleep, so I wanted to be sure you didn’t hurt yourself.The cot is quite small.I had to keep you down here so guests wouldn’t see you in my bed and start to talk,” she said as she leaned in with a grin.

My eyes flitted about the room, looking for something sinister.Something hidden among the piles of unused things that might hint at her real purpose in having me here.“Why do this?”

“Do what?”

“Drug me, bring me into a basement and strap me to a table?”

Her cold eyes twinkled in the low light. “Because you’ve been getting a little too interested in my affairs all around Ponyville, and I need to know why.”

“You’ve been following me?”

Rarity laughed. It was like the sound of shattering glass. “I’m far too busy to do something like that. No, the ponies all about town have noticed. Talking to Hondo and Cookie, discussing my sister, asking about records at Town Hall. You’re a reporter, that much is obvious, but you’ve left tracks like an ursa major.” She clucked her tongue at me.

“So you’re scared I’ll find something.”

“I want to know what you think you’re going to find, Mr. Deadline.”

I shrugged. “Affairs. Sordid family history. Illegitimate children. Disgusting habits.”

She made a face and waved a hoof. “You’re a tabloid reporter?” She looked disappointed.

“What? No! I’m part of Equestrian Fashion!”

“Barely any better,” she said. She turned away and scratched her chin with a hoof. From my vantage point the light made her appear much skinnier than I had originally thought. The robe she was wearing draped over her frame and clung in odd places.

“Any piece of information can be used to gather reasons for other things. Maybe your family’s history is the reason you make the kinds of clothes you do. Maybe the memory of an old flame inspired a line of colors. Ponies love to talk about that kind of thing. They like to hear what’s going on in their favorite pony’s life,” I countered.

“Pah! They’ll never know, and I won’t share it with them. But, perhaps we can share a few tidbits, Mr. Deadline.”

“I think I’ve gotten enough from you so far.” I motioned to the room and the straps on the bed.

She looked at me, her cheekbones stark and eyes icy. I thought I had her with the way she’d treated me. Thought I could barter for more information since I’d caught her and her friends in strange activities. She cackled.

“Oh! Hohohoho! You think anypony will believe this?” She raised her hooves, her skinny legs separating to encompass the room. “Ponyville’s Premiere fashionista kidnapped me and held me in a basement!” she intoned. “I was held captive by up-and-coming fashion icon, Rarity!”

I huffed and cross my hooves. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“Oh, I do apologize,” she giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. “That was the most delightful laugh I’ve had in a while. Oh, my. Maybe I should write tabloid headlines.”

“Very funny, yeah. Can I leave?”

She motioned to the open door. “If you like.”

I hopped off the cot and picked up my notes from the desk nearby. I hadn’t touched the fruit salad. My appetite was ruined by the whole situation, and her mockery hadn’t made me feel any better.

She called out to me as I walked away. “If you would like, as an apology, I can share my secrets.”

I turned to her with an incredulous look on my face.

“Nopony will ever believe you. You can have them, as an apology, but nopony will ever take anything you say about it seriously. That is my only warning, darling.”

I narrowed my eyes, staring at her. She looked serious. No hint of mockery on her gaunt face. I looked her up and down, checking for any of the signs of lying. I could find none. She was sitting prim and proper, her mane, not fully styled yet, was draping across the side of her face, and her tail was tied up in curlers. Her robe covered most of the rest of her, as was her habit, but she wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t too still, either. For all intents and purposes she looked like she was telling the truth.

“You say that, but I’ve got a way with words,” I replied.

“I assure you Mr. Deadline. Nopony will -ever- believe you. Better stallions than you have tried.”

That hurt a little. “Ponies have tried before?”

“Here and there, somepony gets it into their head to do a report on me. They come, and they leave with more information than they know what to do with. Nopony believes them.”

“Who?” She laughed again, that mess of broken glass issuing from her mouth. It was jarring to hear such horrible laughter come from such a pretty face.

“You wouldn’t know of them, darling. Many of them are no longer household names.”

“I know everypony in the business.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said, condescending. “They thought so, too.”

I sat at the foot of the stairs in thought, staring at the floor. I couldn’t pass up such a fantastic opportunity to learn more about the biggest name in fashion in years. I couldn’t just leave, could I? I needed that information. Needed it like an addict needed their next fix. To know that there was possibly the biggest story on fashion here in front of me, could I really walk away from that?

A plate of food floated in front of my face, covered in various fruits, drizzled with honey. “You should eat something, Mr. Deadline. There is not rush. Anytime you want to come back, you’re welcome. Your types always do. You’d keep trying and hurt yourself, or I can give it to you and break you all at once. I’ve found the latter is usually kinder.”

“You think I’ll break from a little information?”

She just smiled sadly.

I took the plate in my wings and ate some of the fruit. She climbed the stairs and I followed her up into the boutique proper. The store had been arranged to sell, and was just waiting for her to be presentable and open up. I was the only reason it hadn’t.

“Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back down in a moment,” said Rarity.

I nodded and chewed on some apple slices while she disappeared upstairs. I looked around the boutique, left alone to ponder what significance the layout of the place had to Rarity. Or if it meant anything at all. I’d written a piece on the design and structure of an artist’s workplace once. It discussed how you could identify a pony based on where they kept tools in relation to one another. A fashionista like Rarity, for example, who kept her scissors closer to her sewing machine than her fabric, was confident she would select the right amount of fabric the first time. It was all based on nothing more substantial than my own observations and assumptions, but it was one of my more popular pieces. Ponies judged artists everywhere on that, and it made me proud.

When Rarity came back downstairs I had finished the fruit and placed the plate in the nearby kitchen. She was stunning, of course. She wore a long and loose robe that did not cover her forehooves, leaving them free to work, but had bunched fabric at her other joints and hips. The fabric covered her gaunt look, I noticed. It wasn’t unusual for a fashionista to be skinny. Many of them had been models of one type or another or were simply eccentric. Rarity’s slim look seemed… excessive. I wondered if she was anorexic.

“So, Mr. Deadline. Are you resolved to stay, or do you need more time to think?” She stood next to me, waiting.

“You seem to think whatever information you have is going to change my life forever. I’m a little insulted, but also intrigued. On the other hoof, you claim nopony will believe me even if I tell them, so I’m questioning the worth of this tale you want to tell,” I said.

She laughed again. I flinched, wondering if I would ever get used to it.

“Mr. Deadline, I have told this tale many times. I have no desire to tell it again for my own benefit, I’m simply thinking of you, darling. You and your journalistic curiosity.”

“You still haven’t told me any of the names or publications the stories were in.”

She sighed. “The only pony that ever published it was part of a long defunct tabloid. You won’t find any copies, and the pony himself is dead.”

“Because he published the story?” I gave her a questioning look.

“No, Mr. Deadline,” she answered, and said nothing more than that.

“Well, that’s just even more cryptic.”

“It’s meant to be. I will not give you the story until you agree you wish to hear it, knowing full-well the consequences of your actions.”

“What, like death?”

“It’s possible.”

“Murder?”

“No.”

“This is a pretty good story already.”

“No, it isn’t. Nopony would believe this without proof, and I have an alibi for anything you cook up.”

“I’ve recorded our entire conversation.”

She gave me a withering look of disappointment. “Please, Mr. Deadline. Give me more credit than that. You write with pencil and paper alone. Most of your columns in the magazine are entirely fabricated with just enough truth to not get you in trouble. I’ve done my research, just as you’ve done yours.”

She had me there. I was a liar, but I was a damn good one. I could twist anything I heard and make it believable. I could even twist this encounter into something my fans at the magazine would eat up, but she seemed insistent that nopony would believe me. Even claimed she had an alibi. That was a bold claim, too. She didn’t even specify how, but with her friends watching me around town, that meant they would back her up. She knew she was confident her own influence would swamp my own no matter what I threw at her.

“I think you should take a day and wander about town some more, Mr. Deadline. I do have work to attend to. Think about my offer, understand the implications and consequences, and decide if you really want to know,” Rarity said as she lifted an unfinished dress off a ponnequin.

“You’re just making this more enticing, you know, Rarity.”

“You were already enticed, Mr. Deadline. Do not try to pin this on me.”

“Fair point. When should I come back?”

“Tonight, after dark. Talk to the others, find out what you can, and come fully aware that if you publish this story, it will never be believed.”

I didn’t say anything. I took my hat from where it hung on a hook next to the door and stepped outside. The chime rang, then was muffled as the door shut behind me.

I looked out at Ponyville and wondered where I could go to get more information. If Town Hall was out, the local library would be a good choice. It was the Castle of Friendship now as well, which was something I figured I should visit at least once.

I approached the gaudy fixture and glared up at it. It was painfully obvious no one with any sense of fashion had created this thing. The crystals that made it up had attempted to create some facsimile of a tree, but the landscape it was set in did not flatter it at all. It was a shiny rock, in the middle of a pastoral landscape. The whole thing stuck out like a fat lip.

I knocked. I could hear the hollow echo of it ring down the hall inside until I heard steps approaching. The door opened, and a small dragon appeared in the doorway.

“Welcome to the Castle of Friendship!” he said. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi. This is still Ponyville Library, right?”

“Yep! Follow me!” He stepped aside and motioned me through the doors, then shut them behind me and jogged off down the halls. I followed him.

“So this is where the Princess of Friendship lives, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit big, and we’re still working to replace all the books we lost, but it’s a good place. What kind of books are you looking for, by the way?”

“I’m looking for books on Ponyville history. Recent history.”

“Like, records of what’s been happening in town?”

“Census information, birth records. Stuff like that.”

“Oh, that’s all kept at the Town Hall.”

“You don’t have anything here about Ponyville’s history?”

He pushed open a set of doors that was labeled ‘Library’ and stepped inside. “Most of it was destroyed by Tirek, but I’ll see what I can find. If we have it, it would be over here.” He jogged over to a section of books carefully organized in one corner.

I followed him and perused the book spines set up so neatly in one corner. They were organized alphabetically by subject, with sections labeled by theme, genre, and subject. This section was about history, with a smaller section on Ponyville itself within it. I started pulling them out one by one to look them over. I was looking for census information, but as I looked them over it became clear that the little dragon was right. Most of the recent information was kept at the Town Hall.

“Damn. Nothing here looks useful to me.”

“Sorry,” said the dragon from his seat on an empty shelf nearby. “Anything we might have had was destroyed by Tirek.”

“I heard about that. Princess Twilight and her friends beat him, right?”

“Oh, well. True and not-true. I don’t mean to brag, but most it was accomplished by my sweet Ra-“

“Spike!” A voice yelled from out in the hall.

“Oops! I probably forgot to do something. You can find your own way out.” The dragon, who’s name was apparently Spike, hopped off the bookshelf and hurried out the door.

I could hear their voices chattering outside the library door, but I couldn’t make out anything beyond a few words. It sounded like chores that the dragon was required to do, and questions about where this or that was being kept at the current time. Eventually there was the sound of claws clicking on the stone as the dragon hurried off, and the library door burst open to reveal the Princess of Friendship herself! Unsure what to do, I bowed, but magic pulled my chin back up.

“Please don’t. We’re not in public, and I don’t have to make a show of it. You can even report that to somepony, if you like,” she said with a small smile. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship. And you are Deadline, columnist for Equestrian Fashion, among other publications. I understand you’re here in Ponyville to find out more about Rarity, is that right?”

She was spot on. I’d heard she had been Princess Celestia’s protégé, and she certainly had the knowledge skills down pat.

“That’s correct, Princess. Rarity is the hottest new thing in the fashion limelight, and ponies everywhere are desperate to hear more about her. I came to deliver that.”

“I hear Pinkie Pie got overzealous. I imagine you’ve talked with Rarity already?”

I nodded. They kept each other well-informed, it seemed. I wouldn’t be able to hide anything, so I opted to tell her the truth. “I did. She told me she’d tell me everything I wanted to know, but that nopony would ever believe me.”

“They won’t. She’s right. I won’t try and tell you otherwise. You’ll hear it, but you’ll have to be ready to hold on to that secret for the rest of your life.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

“I’ll answer your question with a story, if that’s alright. One about Ponyville, and its history, since that’s what you came here to learn about. I’ll leave things out so that you have something to hunt for later. It’s not my place to tell you everything, after all. Do you have time to listen?”

“Of course, Princess.”

She sat down on a cushion next to a table and motioned for me to sit. I did, and she began speaking.

“Ponyville is a newer town. It’s been around for a while, and is close to Canterlot. It’s near the Everfree Forest, which seems dangerous, but it hasn’t ever fallen prey to the strange creatures that dwell there. The Apple Family home and orchard is right next to it, and Fluttershy’s cottage as well. It’s a border that nopony seems to be in charge of, but has never encroached on the town save for a few magical instances.

“Well, when the town began, it was started by Applejack’s grandmother, Granny Smith. She and her family founded the town and began growing apple trees, and every year the zap apple harvest is one of the biggest and greatest events the town has. But, it seems strange.” She looked at me. “How much do you know about the Everfree Forest, Mr. Deadline?”

“Only that it is untamable.”

She nodded. “Untamable, uncontrollable, and dangerous. Timberwolves, cragadiles, parasprites, and Celestia knows what else. All dangerous, and all issuing from the Everfree Forest. As newcomers to the land, there is no way they would know anything about the Everfree Forest, so why would they ever want to set up their home directly next to it? It seems crazy, doesn’t it?”

It was my turn to nod. “It does, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at with this story, princess. What does this have to do with Rarity?”

Twilight smiled at me and stood up. “Why don’t you take a little trip down to Sweet Apple Acres? I think talking with the Apple family would do you some good.”

“What about your story?”

“That was the story.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything!”

“No, you just didn’t understand anything.”

I looked at her in confusion, she just smiled sweetly. “You’re hiding something.”

“You knew that already, Mr. Deadline. I’m just amused you haven’t figured it out.”

“I could make a story of this, you know. Ponyville’s hidden secret.”

“You could, but like Rarity already said, nopony would believe you.”

“So it does have to do with Rarity?”

“I told you it did. So did she.”

“But why are you allowing me to learn about it?”

“Because you want to so badly. But we did warn you.” Twilight motioned to me and led me down the halls back toward the front door. “When you speak with Applejack, be sure to mention the timberwolves, Applejack might not know enough about them, but maybe Granny Smith will be lucid enough to explain it to you, if you’re lucky.” She stood in the door of the castle as I bowed and wished her a good day.

“I’m still upset about all this, but thank you, Princess.”

“Don’t thank me yet, what you’re learning will be life-changing, of that I have no doubt. You will not enjoy it, I can assure you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Indeed, we will. You have a pleasant day, Mr. Deadline.”

I nodded and went the direction she had pointed me. It was a long and dusty road, but Sweet Apple Acres was easy to find. It was the only orchard in Ponyville and if you followed the apple trees you were bound to find the farmhouse eventually. They covered acres upon acres of land, and I had to wonder how the Apple family wasn’t in control of all of Ponyville if they owned this much land to work.

I passed by tree after tree only to be stopped by a country-styled voice shouting at me. “Hey there, partner. Ah recognize you. Yer that feller Pinkie Pie dropped off, ah? Come to chat with me, have ya?”

I turned to the voice to see an orange mare with a blonde mane trotting toward me. She looked strong, certainly strong enough to beat me up, or pretty much anypony I had ever known. “Hello. Miss Applejack, I presume?”

“Dead to rights, I reckon. So, the fact you’re still in Ponyville tells me Rarity didn’t convince you otherwise, eh?”

“Convince me of what?” I played innocent, hoping to get more information.

“Don’t be stupid, pardner.” She jabbed a hoof at me. “Ah’m the element of honesty, and you can’t fool me. You’re here for a story, so a story you’ll git. Come and walk with me.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” I said as I followed after her. “Every bit of information is useful to me.”

“Well, quit it. It’s unbecomin’ of a stallion to play ignorant like that. Who’ve you talked to already?”

“Just the princess.”

“Twahlight? Alright, that’ll segyoo- segyuh-,“ she grunted, “that’ll move real nice into my story.”

Applejack cleared her throat and began, “So, when Ponyville was founded, the Everfree Forest was a menace. Vines would leap out of the forest at us, destroying our houses and harming ponies who strayed too close. That was bad enough, but the worst thing were the timberwolves. How much do you know about timberwolves, Mr. Deadline?”

“Not much, other than that they look like sticks piled together.”

“Not just look like, they are sticks. Bundles of sticks in the shape of large dogs. But sticks don’t do that naturally.”

“They certainly don’t.”

“So that means some sort of magic was at play, here.”

“Untamable magic from the forest itself. That’s why the two sisters lived there at first, as protection and an attempt to tame it. I know. What does this have to do with Rarity?”

Applejack stopped walking. We were next to the Everfree forest, the oppressive darkness within its tightly-packed trees just a short hop away. She turned to look at me and scratched her chin for a long moment. “Y’ever thought you might not be cut out for journalism?”

I gave her a flat look. “You’re implying that Rarity was the one who protected Ponyville?”

Applejack beamed at me. “Y’ain’t a total lost cause after all!”

My look persisted. “That makes no sense. Rarity’s only about 30 years old, unless I miss my guess. She isn’t an alicorn, either, so an extended lifespan is out of the question. Not to mention, her magic focuses on gemstones, not forests.”

“Oh, yeah? And where’d y’learn alla that information?”

“It’s common knowledge. Everypony knows it!”

“Uh-huh,” Applejack nodded at me. It was condescending in the way a mare or stallion will nod at a foal who has finally figured out their multiplication tables. Like they’re so proud of you and glad you managed to meet the minimum of their expectations.

I resisted the urge to punch her. She could shatter me with a kick. Instead, I looked at her, then turned to the forest nearby. “Okay, fine. All my information is wrong. What’s the truth?”

“Ah ain’t givin’ it to you so easily. Try to use that journalistic sensibility and tell me what y’think it would take to make somethin’ like angry vines and horrible stick-dogs.”

“A lot of magic.”

“Yeah?”

“Dogs made of sticks, moving vines, all-consuming insects, rock-covered lizards. Those are all the ones I know of. What are you getting at?”

“Ah’m sayin’ that a lotta magic is involved, and it ain’t just magic runnin’ amok, neither.”

“It could just be luck.”

“Don’t luck seem a bit much for somethin’ like that?”

“I guess? I still don’t see your point.”

Applejack slapped her face with a hoof. “Ah’m just givin’ you the answer, and you still don’t get it?”

“What, you’re saying…” I said, “…you’re saying Rarity did all of that?”

“There y’go! You’re not as dull as I’d thought!”

“Wait, but how? Those things are way older than she is!”

Applejack tapped the side of her nose with a hoof and trotted back toward the farm.

“You can’t just leave it like that, that claim is nonsense, how can you back it up?”

“Ah can’t.”

“Then I don’t believe you!”

“We all said you wouldn’t.”

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Whatever you like.”

“This… this is…”

“Ridiculous?”

“Well, yes.”

“Look, Mr. Deadline, we don’t care what you do or don’t believe. We’ll continue livin’ however we choose, and you can come or go however y’like, but you wanted to know. Believe it or don’t. We don’t care.”

“But—”

“Ah got work t’do, Mr. Deadline. Ah’ll see y’around, I’m sure.”

Applejack went back to her bucking, and I was left standing in the middle of the orchard, forgotten. True to her word, she didn’t care if I stayed or went, and she said nothing else to me. I left, of course. She had said her peace and I wasn’t her concern anymore, a stallion from the city who didn’t know anything about them and didn’t want to, just seeking out the next big, petty story about some designer or other piece of artwork that didn’t mean anything. I could be dragged into the Everfree Forest for all she cared. For all any of them cared. I wandered back down the road to Ponyville proper, alone with my thoughts.

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[TH3L0LG4M3R]

Maybe Rarity is a time traveler.