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1. Welcome to the Hellmouth10,154 words
2. The Harsh Light of Day7,780 words
3. Never Kill a Boy on the First Date12,529 words
4. Nightmares15,513 words
5. Lovers Walk10,882 words
6. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered10,828 words
7. The I in Team13,346 words
8. Out of Mind, Out of Sight9,018 words
9. Prophecy Girl7,640 words
10. Beauty and the Beasts7,711 words
11. Selfless6,452 words
12. Helpless9,508 words
13. Consequences9,892 words
14. Bad Eggs2,952 words

12. Helpless

Go to bed,
Little sleepyhead,
The witching hour is nigh.
Cover your head,
Block out what’s said,
Or you will bid goodbye.

No sticks, no stones,
No broken bones
For you this Nightmare Night.
No tricks, no treats,
No cloven feets,
Or morning dawning bright.

No candy corn,
No ‘nother morn,
If doors you open wide.
No mommy dear
Will more appear,
If you say “Come inside.”

Lock up your doors,
Creep o’er your floors,
Keep windows shut up tight.
Stop up your ears,
Ignore your fears,
At twelve on Nightmare Night!

So go to bed,
Little sleepyhead,
And dream the night away.
Don’t go, don’t go,
For don’t you know?
You’ll be gone by break of day!

-- Traditional Equestrian nursery rhyme

1002 hours, 18^th May, 488 AS

Recent storms have taken their toll on the mast. Several of my best stallions have been toiling to repair the damage and we are mostly recovered, though our keel will need work once we put into port. We should reach the nearest harbour by week’s end. There we shall refill our food barrels and other supplies. The crew will do whatever they can but I suspect we may require fresh hooves and coin to pay them if we are to be truly seaworthy again. At this moment we are not quite held together by spit and good wishes but I would not fancy our chances should another storm strike.

It is at times such as these I wish I had more pegasi within my crew. Wings and weather go well together, especially on a long voyage. We could be sure of plain sailing had we wing-borne hooves to clear away any dark clouds that sought to threaten our course. Yet wings and ocean are a poor mix, as is attested by so many tales of pegasi who flew too long across it and drowned. One would think that would encourage them to seek a vessel, so that they may set their hooves on a deck rather than open water, but pegasi sailors do not abound. Pegasi seem to hate the sea as much as half my crew hate the land. Strange that earth ponies would be such hearty sea-dogs. I, myself, have no love of the shore but neither do I hate it. Everything has a place, a role and a time in the world. If we must berth in port a while, I may put out a call for a pegasi seafarer to join us. Perhaps one may even respond for the right price. I do not wish any storm or ship repairs to keep us from reaching Horseshoe Bay in time for the Summer Sun Celebration.

1812 hours, 26^th May, 488 AS

We made port six days past. Myself and my crew have since resided in Bella Boot in accommodation of some standing. I have yet to chew off my own hide through flea bites and the food is not watered down gruel. Neither do they thin their drink, which is a pretty kind of liquid after long weeks of grog and whatever rainwater fell into our buckets. Life at sea is a rough business and no mistake. Not enough to warrant a return to landlubbering but I would be a knave and a liar if I claimed I enjoy every second of life aboard ship. A captain’s burden is extra heavy, as the welfare of his crew lays on him. They seem in higher spirits after near enough a week of good food, though my boatswain complains that he cannot sleep without the rocking of the swell beneath him. While I can walk as surely on land as on a pitching deck, I must confess, I do not like sleeping in a bed. Give me a hammock strung across a room any day.

2028 hours, 29^th May, 488 AS

I have secured us a weather pony!

Two days ago I put out word that we were in search of pegasi to join the crew of the Golden Hind. The ponies of Bella Boot do not rely on their ports for more than fish and some trading, so there were few who showed interest in leaving their shores. Wanderlust does not ride high in these mares and stallions. They seem more at home on land – this land, small though it is. In a few days one may walk the entire length and breadth of the island, and though the cliffs and mountains at its centre would provide a challenge, not an insurmountable one. Bella Boot does not discourage travellers from staying here but neither does it encourage us to remain. Though most speak Common Tongue the ponies here also have their own language, as they spent two hundred years cut off before anypony from the mainland landed on their shores. This island was one of the last places to know of the return of Princess Celestia. I would venture to say that only those ponies of the Schwartzwald learned the news later. Of all places I have explored, my desire to return there is least ignited. Just to think of the Black Forest invites a shiver along my spine, so I will turn my thoughts back to my good news.

Our new weather pony calls herself Frost Wings. Whether this is her true name or no, I cannot be certain, but she is competent and willing, if a little reserved. She approached me while I was hauling a cartload of resin to the docks and made her case to become part of my crew. Her accent marks her as a mainlander, though she claims she has no family, nor other ties to Equestria proper. She was raised among pegasi as a weather pony but found she had itchy hooves, as is the case with most seafarers. She has served on several ships, many of which I recognised when she named them. Their captains are sturdy to a pony and her skills bear the hallmarks of her time with them. Her abilities impressed me and I have agreed to take her in trial, at least until we put in at Horseshoe Bay. When I asked how she came to berth in Bella Boot she informed me that she served last under Captain Pickled Whiskers, who is a scurvy dog with wandering hooves, and she had not cared where she set down so long as she was no longer sharing deck with him. Her words made me roar with such laughter that my boatswain galloped to see if the cart had rolled over me.

Some crewmates raised complaint at the idea of a mare on board but they were easily put down. I am not a cruel captain but I shall bear no superstition upon my vessel. Mares and stallions may both find adventure at sea and one is no more an unlucky token than the other.

0100 hours, 4^th June, 488 AS

We have put to sea once more and all is plain sailing. The crew is well rested and Frost Wings acquits herself well. Already she has cleared a bank of errant cloud and diverted a wind that threatened to blow us off course when one stallion fell asleep at the wheel. The taste of grog was too much for him after so long supping Bella Boot’s milder fare. Fortunately Frost Wings saw us right and I believe some crewmembers begin to accept her presence as a consequence. We have our heading and should reach Horseshoe Bay before the Summer Sun Celebration. I intend for the Golden Hind to have a place in the flotilla that gathers there to honour Princess Celestia and we shall make good on my intent.

2108 hours, 18^th June, 488 AS

Topsail once again voices his dislike of our weather pony. Loudly. At great length. I begin to think he says these things merely to aggravate me. A fortnight at sea and I am near ready to drown him in a bilge bucket. I currently hide myself in my quarters with naught but a biscuit for my supper while everypony else dines up top. ‘Tis a shame when a captain is too afeared of his own crewmate to venture on deck, yet I am indeed afeared I will do him a great disservice if he says but one more word of mares, luck and ships. He has been my boatswain for five years and I would trust him with my life but, by Celestia’s name, I do wish he would keep his grumblings behind his teeth or he may find himself with fewer of them by the time we reach our destination.

2010 hours, 19^th June, 488 AS

We shall make port in Horseshoe Bay in three days if the weather remains in our favour. With Frost Wings aboard, I see no reason why it should not. Though Topsail remains cantankerous, she has been matchless upon this voyage and I would happily retain her if she would agree. I will know her decision once we reach the mainland. I do wonder whether she will accept a permanency. Her manner remains as remote as the day I encountered her and I find myself unable to read her mood or thoughts upon any matter, from the cook’s food to her sleeping arrangements. I wonder especially for Topsail’s comportment. He has not acquitted himself so well this voyage. Of late he has grown sour as spoiled milk and rarely speaks in my presence, save to pass along my orders to the crew. I think perhaps he is disgruntled that he stands alone where once he had voices of the same opinion to support his stance. The crew has grown to respect and even admire Frost Wing for what she brings to the table, yet I imagine it is maddening for her to hear a superior continuously wax lyrical of all the ways he does not like her. I have spoken with him but he is a crusty soul – good-hearted and brave but wedded to his ways. He oft tells me old seaponies do not die, they simply become one with the foam of cresting waves they have ridden all their lives. I think perhaps he has been too much at the grog.

1830 hours, 22^nd June, 488 AS

Horseshoe Bay is a stout and hearty place, built by sailors for sailors. The town has expanded since I was here last but the atmosphere that struck me so remains like the smell of freshly baked bread after the ovens are emptied. We are berthed and will resupply in the coming days. We have preceded the royal party by near a week. That should allow time enough for me to secure work for the Golden Hind. My designs for sailing the Northern Pass must be shelved until we have enough coin to make up for the coin already spent on repairs. The Golden Hind is my home on the water and I would be a poor captain indeed if I forced her to sail with no jingle in my coffers to keep her safe. Many ponies will be arriving over the coming days. Amongst them I will surely find someone in need of a stouthearted crew and their stouter-hearted captain.

1800 hours, 23^rd June, 488 AS

It is a poor show when a ship like the Golden Hind is reduced to carrying common cargo. However, it must be done and I am not a stallion so beholden to his pride that he cannot see good sense. I have secured three shipping jobs and we shall meet them as fully as we would meet the delivery of actual pony passengers. The last of the three calls for us to sail north and will beget many a bit to line our coffers. With it we will be in ample position to sail through the Northern Pass without need for delay. Frost Wings questioned my sanity when she heard of my plan to set sail for there. She has heard from the rest of the crew of our previous adventures sailing the world. The wonders we have seen beggar belief – most recently we encountered zebras, which are a kind of striped earth pony with magic in their veins! The very notion that an earth pony as common as I could hope to wield magic is ridiculous, yet these zebra creatures do so with ease. I wonder what we will find beyond the Northern Pass and can barely contain my joy to have the journey so near. Frost Wings has agreed to remain with us for now. I suspect, if she does leave, it will be at the outset of that great journey.

1830 hours, 29^th June, 488 AS

The royal party has arrived in Horseshoe Bay. Though this is not the first occasion on which I have looked upon the princess’s face, I was struck as dumb as a newborn foal the moment I espied her. She is as regal and beautiful as the ocean itself, awash with the same quiet power also. I wonder whether she also bears the same hidden temper and violence, though I can scarce believe Princess Celestia would ever conduct herself with anything less than majesty. Nonetheless, she bears the horn and wings of an alicorn, and nopony can deny the power in their significance. Just as on a sunny day, when the sea is quiet as a mill pond and one could mistake it for such, I venture Princess Celestia’s mysteries run just as deep.

Some of the royal party has bunked in an inn not far from the harbour. I observed them making their way thence and was struck by the overloaded weight piled upon one mare by an aged stallion with a face as thunderous as a storm cloud. They neither of them seemed the best choice for such a task, yet the mare was a game thing and bore everything with no word of complaint. I assumed her a servant and used to such tasks but the joy of seeing Celestia was still upon me and, so uplifted by it, I proffered aid to carry her burden. I expected gratitude but she pulled the bags away as if I was attempting to steal them and told me she could manage quite well on her own. She spoke with an accent I did not recognise, something with the hint of the countryside about it, yet her words were well-chosen and more complex than I might have anticipated. She left me standing in the middle of the street where I could hear Topsail’s chuckles behind me. The captain of the Golden Hind rejected by a servant wench? It would not stand. Therefore I hurried to close the distance between us, fetched the bags from her before she could halt me and followed the aged stallion at a clip that forced her to chase me instead.

I wish it to be known that any sea-dog who thinks cussing is the height of anger is in error. This fierce little mare harped at me every step of the way to her lodgings, up the stairs and along the corridor to her master’s room. I knew the proprietors of the inn of old – pair of scallywags who once sailed under Captain Jackdaw until they swapped waves for washing pots and pans and making beds for other ponies to sleep in. I caught them laughing at the sight of us as we passed, though I was so entertained by the little mare’s tirade that I could do naught by smile myself. Perhaps it was this amusement that prompted me to tell her of myself, or perhaps I was simply trying to drown out her words with my own. Certainly, I claim entertainment made me ask her to sail with me upon the morrow. She refused, of course. Part of me had known she would, yet I had asked anyway, if only to see what she did. Would she turn purple, red, or blue with rage?

As it was, she turned no colour in the time between my request and her master’s interruption. He was much less entertaining. I have met his type before; scurrilous old coots who think they own the world and all its treasures, and so can order it about with nary a please nor thank you. I wished to be out of his company as soon as possible, afore his mood could lower my own like a lightning-struck mast. The little mare claimed I was an impudent wretch to ask her to sail with her when I did not even know her name, so I dubbed her aloud what I had already dubbed her in my mind: Fierce Little Mare. That did produce a spot of colour in her cheeks and I bade her goodbye with the sight fixed in my mind.

I am no young colt in the first flush of attraction. I have had my share of mares upon my travels – show me the seafarer who has not and I shall show you a liar – but my aim in this endeavour was not to tempt her to my cabin and then my bed. Something about the plain little thing made me want to spring more blushes to her cheeks. Perhaps my idea of sport begins to sour with age, yet I cannot otherwise explain the wish to see her again. I have sailed far and wide to gain my epithet ‘The World Explorer’ and upon every shore I have seen all manner of desirous mares: long-legged beauties who dance in the wavelets of the Philippintos; dusky zebras whose curves are wreathed in stripes; pale flaxen ponies from the far north and more! Fierce Little Mare is neither comely nor lithe. Her footsteps plod like the workpony she is and her colouring is unprepossessing, to say the least. Her mane and tail remind me of mud, while one would be generous to call her coat the colour of sand. Even her rump mark is simple: a pink flower that is the only spot of brightness about her until her cheeks blush. No, my loins do not sing for her and I hold no credence in the power of a mare over a stallion’s heart. I have mounted and left too many, with not a stir from within my chest, to believe I am the kind of stallion for whom that old edict applies. Seafarers were not meant for love.

Why do I spend so many words on this topic? I have work to do. A ship does not run itself – especially when its boatswain spends all his time baiting his captain over plain little mares instead of doing his work.

-- Extracts from the lost log of Captain Drake.

Bon-Bon returned to consciousness amidst the smell of antiseptic and the sound of beeping. She opened her eyes and was immediately assaulted with the sights, sounds and smells of a busy hospital. For a moment she just lay processing this. Her mind was fuggy but sharpened with every passing second.

Sweet Celestia, not this again.

She had done this before. Twice, she had woken in a hospital to find her life irrevocably altered. She hoped this was not a third. Three times was definitely not the charm.

She sat up. Immediately, the pony beside her bed startled so violently that her chair toppled over, emptying its occupant onto the floor. Bon-Bon glimpsed a pink tail, a yellow hoof and then an embarrassed face.

“S-Sorry. You scared me.” Fluttershy broke into a huge grin. “Thank goodness. You’re finally awake.”

Bon-Bon looked down at her hooves. One foreleg was perforated by a needle, which led to an IV on the other side of her bed. Her forelegs were peppered with squares of gauze that itched where her fur had been shaved off to accommodate the adhesive. She wondered how long she had been out, why Fluttershy was at her bedside, plus half a dozen other things. What she said, however, was merely, “I guess so.”

“I should, um, go tell the others.” Fluttershy trotted to the door. “They’ll be so pleased. We were really worried about you.”

“We?” Bon-Bon reconstructed her final moments from before passing out: the orphanage fire, the rescue, the explosion, the fall and, finally, Twilight Sparkle saving the day once again. Being upstaged at the last minute might have upset somepony else but Bon-Bon was grateful to give up the limelight. “Who’s we?”

“Well … everypony. You’re a hero, so when you got hurt, everypony wanted to make sure you were okay. Rainbow Dash brought you to the hospital so fast she almost did another sonic rainboom. It was a good thing she didn’t. She’s, um, not supposed to do them in residential areas in case she breaks all the glass in ponies’ windows.”

Bon-Bon’s quiet gratitude shrivelled up and died. A hero? Her?

Aw, nuts.

“Fluttershy?” she said quickly.

“Yes?”

Bon-Bon raised her gaze. She didn’t know Fluttershy very well, though at one point she had admired her performance on the catwalk. Truth be told, Lyra had been an even bigger fan, but had come down with pony-pox and been unable to act the part of the adoring fan with the enthusiasm she wanted to. Instead, she had roped Bon-Bon into acting as her proxy. Unable to deny what had seemed like a simple request, Bon-Bon had begun collecting magazines for Lyra to clip out Fluttershy’s picture. Then it had progressed to trailing the timid pegasus for an autograph, going to her shows armed with Lyra’s camera, plus all manner of other things Bon-Bon would not have done for anypony else. In the end, due to repeated exposure and the contagious fervour of those around her, Bon-Bon had been swept up in ‘Flutter-Craze’ too.

Now, however, she was embarrassed to remember how she had acted. Poor Fluttershy had been miserable and Bon-Bon had not helped. Nonetheless, she had to ask at least one question before Fluttershy left. She might be timid, but she was also honest.

“Did I get … did everypony in the orphanage get out okay?”

Fluttershy’s whole face seemed to jerk. She was truly terrible at hiding her emotions. “Um …”

Every scrap of saliva in Bon-Bon’s mouth evaporated. Sweet Celestia, no. “Who?”

“The, um …” Fluttershy hesitated.

“How many didn’t get out, Fluttershy?”

“Erguff.”

“What?” Bon-Bon leaned so far over the edge of her bed she nearly toppled out. “What did you say?”

Fluttershy bit her lip. “Eight.”

Bon-Bon’s heart spasmed. She was surprised it didn’t show up on the cardiac monitor. “Was it … was it the unicorn filly dormitory?”

Fluttershy nodded.

Bon-Bon’s whole chest seemed to shrink, her ribcage bearing down on her spasming heart and frozen lungs, making it difficult to breathe. She felt sick; not just uncomfortable, but like she actually might throw up.

It was always worse when it was foals. These were not the first she had failed to save but it was no easier to take now than it had been the first time. For a second she was back in some neighbourhood she had forgotten the name of, right on the edge of suburbia outside Fillydelphia. It was a safe haven for ponies who worked in the cities and their families; the kind of community where everypony left their doors unlocked at night. Yet all Bon-Bon could remember about it was beneath the slide of an adventure playground, holding a tiny limp body and crying until Windwhistler prised her hooves away.

Eight. Eight fillies. Eight deaths. Eight lives snuffed out because she hadn’t been fast enough to save them.

Fluttershy seemed to read her thoughts. “A … a portion of the ceiling fell in on their room,” she gabbled, as if she didn’t want to say the ugly truth out loud but felt compelled to anyway. “It looks like the fire started in their dormitory. Twilight thinks one of them might have been lighting candles with their magic. Matron told us two had recently started magic lessons and were always experimenting, even though she told them not to. There was no way anypony could have saved them once the roof collapsed. It brought … It brought half the attic … down on top of them.” Fluttershy closed her eyes briefly, but Bon-Bon’s grief apparently superseded her own. She opened her eyes again and took a step towards the bed. “You can’t blame yourself, Bon-Bon. You saved those colts and they’ll never forget that.”

It should have been a comfort.

It wasn’t.

Bon-Bon ducked her head, her throat too tight to reply. She could not respond to any reassurances, no matter how sincere. Eventually Fluttershy retreated from the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The alone time only lasted a few minutes, however. A blur of pink all but catapulted itself from the doorway onto the bed. Bon-Bon let out a squawk. Her fight-or-flight instincts were heavily weighted in one direction and she instinctively drew back a hoof to punch her attacker. She stopped just in time when the pink thing latched onto her neck with a delighted, decidedly un-demonic squeal.

“You’reokayyou’reokayyou’reokayyou’reokay!”

“Ack!”

“Pinkie Pie!” exclaimed the pony who had come in behind her. “She’s in a hospital bed!”

“I know, and she was sleeping in it, but now she’s not because she’s awake and it’s so cool because she’s okay and –”

“A hospital bed, Pinkie!”

“I can see that, Dashie.”

“That means she’s injured and you shouldn’t be shoving her around! She won’t be okay for very long if you keep doing that! She’s turning blue!”

Pinkie sprang backwards off the bed. “Oops! Sorry.”

Bon-Bon touched her neck as if to check it was still there. “No – nggh – problem.” She caught Rainbow Dash’s eye. “Thanks.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “No problem. I’ll wait until you’re in fighting shape to give you your victory noogie.”

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

“I guess you weren’t expecting to see us first. We’ve been taking it in turns to keep watch over you. You’ve been out cold since last night. When Fluttershy came to say you’d finally woken up, not even the full line-up of the Cloudsdale first division storm-ball team could have stopped Pinkie getting in to see you. Hey, Pinkie?”

“Uh-huh?” Pinkie bounced from hoof to hoof with unbridled glee. “What?”

“Don’t you think we should step aside and let somepony else in here first?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know. Somepony else?” Rainbow Dash’s words were laden with meaning – all of which Pinkie missed.

“But I wanted to say how glad I am she’s okay, and how awesome she was last night, and how brave, and how impressed everyone in Ponyville was with her for saving those colts, and –”

“Pinkie!” Rainbow Dash interrupted. “She’s only allowed two visitors at a time.”

“There are only two visitors in here, silly. You and me.”

“Uh-huh, but don’t you think somepony else deserves to be in here more than we do? Somepony who’s been waiting all night and just happened to be in the bathroom at the wrong time?”

“The only wrong time to be in the bathroom is when it’s infested with yellow-spotted flibber-flabbers,” Pinkie replied. “They’ll eat your butt right off before you can say ‘whoa, where’d my butt go?’ It’s okay, though, because they only live in deepest, darkest Amazonia, which is thousands of miles and a whole ocean away, so no-way-no-how would a bathroom in Ponyville ever be infested. Oh, unless someone in Amazonia sent a package of yellow-spotted flibber-flabbers to Ponyville and they got loose, but who the hay would be such a Meany McMeanypants and do something like that?”

Bon-Bon and Rainbow Dash stared, their mouths slightly open. Rainbow Dash clicked hers shut first. Evidently spending a lot of time with Pinkie Pie didn’t inure you to her babbling, but it did engender a quicker recovery time.

“Pinkie Pie, that was random even for you.”

“It was?” Pinkie blinked, nonplussed. “I thought I was staying on topic with that one.”

Rainbow Dash shook her head like she was trying to clear away the clouds of Pinkie’s logic. “We’re leaving so somepony else can come and see Bon-Bon.”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” said the doctor tapping his hoof behind them. “As long as that somepony is me. Nopony is going to visit until I’ve had a chance to examine my patient first.”

“Okey-dokey-lokey, doc!” Pinkie chirruped. She trotted from the room. “C’mon, Dashie. Can’t you take a hint?”

“One of these days, I swear, I’m gonna get Twilight to magic her hooves so she can walk on clouds, then I’m gonna maroon her on one,” Rainbow Dash grumbled as she followed her friend. She glanced over her shoulder before she left. “Hey, uh, Bon-Bon?”

“Yes?”

“You were … you were pretty awesome last night.”

Bon-Bon gave a watery smile.

“No, really. Fluttershy said you were feeling bad about … well, she said you were feeling bad, but you shouldn’t. What happened was …” Rainbow Dash paused and scrunched up her face. She seemed to be searching for the right words.

From what she knew of watching her around Twilight, plus the general gossip of Ponyville (and there was always, always, always gossip about Rainbow Dash), Bon-Bon knew her as a pony of action, not pretty speeches. The tug-o-war on May Day seemed to bear this out. Rainbow Dash was more likely to punch a problem into submission than solve it with words. In that respect, maybe they were a little alike. It was not a thought that had occurred to her before. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having something like that in common with the brash, unrestrained pegasus.

“Last night was awful,” Rainbow Dash concluded. “But if it hadn’t been for you it would’ve been even more awful, so don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Seriously –”

“Miss Dash,” the doctor said pointedly. His eyes ticked to the door.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” she grumbled and left.

After she was gone the introduced himself as Doctor Stable. He performed a litany of tests that Bon-Bon endured wordlessly unless asked a direct question. Her grip was firm, her burns clean beneath their dressings and the rib she had broken in the explosion was no longer trying to aerate her lung. He was surprised she was doing so well, which told her what state she must have been in when she was admitted. All her fur along her left side had been singed, where it had just been shaved off to reach the cuts and burns beneath. Her skin was red and pock-marked but she suspected her advanced healing had already made improvements.

Its progress was slowed, however, by lack of fuel. She had expended a lot of energy in her rescue attempt and had not replenished herself before expecting her body to perform miracles. The slowed healing might have made her progress slightly more believable to other ponies, but the fuel issue it was playing havoc with her insides. Her muscles felt weak, her guts compressed and her mind woolly. As Doctor Stable popped the stethoscope buds from his ears, her stomach growled.

“That’s a good sign,” he informed her. “It shows your body is returning to normal functionality. I must admit, I’m amazed at how well you’re doing. I’ll have to ask Twilight Sparkle what sort of medi-magic she performed at the scene.”

“Twilight used magic on me?” Bon-Bon echoed in surprised.

“Why yes. Did nopony tell you? She and a group of other unicorns were performing triage on ponies from the orphanage. Some of the colts and fillies had pretty nasty burns and Holly Dash sustained quite a severe head wound. Twilight has evidently encountered some medi-magic before as part of her studies in Canterlot; enough that she rendered you to a fit enough state for Rainbow Dash to transport you here without aggravating your injuries.”

“I … I didn’t know.” Bon-Bon touched a patch of missing fur, rubbing the bare skin pensively. “She really did that?”

“Who, Twilight Sparkle or Rainbow Dash?”

“Both, I guess. I don’t know why either of them would do so much for me. It’s not like they’re my friends or anything.”

Doctor Stable looked at her strangely. “I don’t think they see it that way. At any rate, she and her friends, plus several others, have been crowding our waiting room all night waiting for you to come round. You’ve quite a harem going out there.” He smiled at his own joke.

Bon-Bon was shocked. “All the Elements of Harmony are out there?”

“Uh, yes.” He paused at her using that name for them. “So I wouldn’t be so quick to say they’re not your friends.” He consulted his watch. “I have to get going. You’re doing extremely well, all things considered. Your fur should grow back within a few weeks, though your tail may take longer.

“My … tail?”

He flinched at the pitch of her voice. He flinched again when she flipped back the bed-sheet to see that her beautiful tail was nothing more than a blackened spiky tuft. Part of it had been either burned away or blown off in the explosion, though there were also jagged unburnt sections that had clearly been shorn.

“The hair had melted together,” the doctor explained. “We had to. There was no saving it, I’m afraid.”

“My … tail …” Bon-Bon stared in horror. The scent of burnt hair billowed from under the sheet. She had smelled it before but not recognised it for what it was amongst the other things assaulting her enhanced senses. What remained of her tail was barely a hoof-span long.

Suddenly the events of the night ganged up like muggers in a dark alley. They all piled on top of her at once and she felt crushed under their weight: the dead fillies, the ruined orphanage, her own near-death in the explosion, and now this. Her tail was such a tiny thing compared with everything else, but it topped off the pile of awfulness inside her, which was finally tall enough to reach her eyes and toss salt at them. Tears blurred her vision. A sob worked its way up her throat.

She didn’t know how long she was crying before hooves wrapped around her. She didn’t know who they belonged to either, just that someone was suddenly there, rocking her like she was a foal again. She sobbed uncontrollably for several minutes until, finally, her already waning energy was spent and she flopped back onto her pillow. She panted, the odd sob still juddering silently through her. Apart from the gradually slowing beeping of her monitor, the room was silent.

Well, for a few seconds.

Someone coughed. Bon-Bon opened her eyes, not sure who she expected to see. Had Doctor Castle been hugging her?

“Uh, hi,” said Lyra.

Bon-Bon groaned.

“Thanks. You don’t have to sound so pleased to see me.”

“It’s not that. I mean … it’s not only that. I mean … sweet Celestia.” Bon-Bon patted ineffectually at her mane. “I must look a mess.”

“Yeah, um, you kept saying something about your tail? You were babbling so much that I couldn’t make out every word you said.”

Another groan escaped, though this time she didn’t break down into tears. She lifted the sheet to reveal her butchered tail. Lyra whistled and winced, an interesting combination on her usually cheerful face.

“Oh, wow, Bon-Bon, that’s really hitting you where it hurts.”

Bon-Bon let the sheet drop back into place. “In the grand scheme of things, it rates pretty low.”

Lyra’s expression faltered. “Yeah, um, you … you mentioned that too. Look, Bon-Bon, nopony could have reached those fillies in time. Not a pegasus, not a unicorn and certainly not a … not you, either.”

“You were about to say ‘not an earth pony’, weren’t you?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” Lyra hedged, clearly aware of how offensive she had sounded. “Anyhow, I’m really mad at you right now, so you don’t get to be mad at yourself.”

Bon-Bon stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Me. Mad. At you.” Lyra pointed at each of them in turn, adopting a frown that would have been fearsome but for her eyes. She was pleased Bon-Bon was okay. That was something, at least. Anger, however, claimed her mouth. “What in name of Celestia’s sunny butt were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that the building was on fire and there were ponies still inside.”

“That was rhetorical question. Beside, running into a burning building? A burning building? You could have been killed!”

And didn’t Bon-Bon know it? She hadn’t felt this connected to her own mortality in … quite a while. Whole days, in fact. “But I wasn’t.”

“That’s not the point!” Lyra threw up her hooves. “That place was on fire and you ran inside – and without telling anypony what you were up to!”

“There wasn’t really time to find somepony to make a plan of action first. I saw what was happening, I saw a way I could help and I did it.” She needed to downplay the whole affair. Publicity was definitely not something she needed – or wanted.

“I … you … they …” Lyra spluttered. “So mad at you!” she eventually yelped. “What if part of the roof had collapsed on you too? Or the floor under you? What if Twilight hadn’t caught you when you fell, or if that explosion had been bigger, or –”

“Lyra, I’m fine,” Bon-Bon interrupted. Downplay, downplay, downplay! “What was I supposed to do? Just stand around and do nothing?”

Lyra’s frown deepened. It started to touch her eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t brave! I’m saying you were the wrong type of brave!”

“Excuse me?” Bon-Bon blinked. “Again.”

“You were brave and stupid. You’re just really lucky things turned out as well as they did. What happened was really tragic, but it could have been so much worse if you’d been killed.”

“I’m not afraid of dying.” The words came easily. She was so used to telling herself, they slipped free almost of their own accord.

“Don’t you dare come out with horseapples like that!” Lyra snapped. “I’m afraid of you dying! When I saw you on the ground, all burned and covered in soot, my heart almost stopped. I thought you were dead, Bon-Bon! So don’t you take any more stupid risks, even to save somepony else, just because you’re ‘not afraid of dying’. You don’t get to think that way!”

“You’re seriously telling me what I can and can’t think?” Bon-Bon nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.

“I’m telling you that if you died I’d … I’d …” Lyra stuttered.

Someone in the doorway cleared their throat. Both mares turned and were equally surprised to see Zecora there – though probably not for the same reasons.

“I hope I am not interrupting, but if you would please stop erupting, I have come to see Bon-Bon. Having found her, thereupon, I must administer to her this.” She reached into her satchel, extracting a pot of pale blue goop, the lid of which was nothing more than a square of cloth tied with string, “A salve to bring her burns some bliss. I heard of her heroic deeds and though I would see to her needs. I am a shaman, after all, and medicine’s part of my call.”

“Oh.” Lyra seemed confused at how to react to this announcement. Eventually she looked at Bon-Bon, and when she spoke again her voice was soft and sullen. “I … I guess I’ll come back later. Did the doctor say you could be in here?”

Zecora nodded. “In truth, he was not overjoyed, but my service has not been employed by him, to combat Bon-Bon’s plight. The one who called me was Twilight.”

Bon-Bon was shocked all over again. “She did?” She had assumed Zecora was there as her Watcher.

“Not many ponies seek me out, though Twilight wields some heavy clout. I would not come for money’s end. I do this for her as a friend. Your name is Bon-Bon, is it not? That’s some amazing friend you’ve got.”

“Twilight Sparkle isn’t my friend,” Bon-Bon said automatically.

“She sees things quite another way, so I would watch out what I say. Nonetheless, I am here now. I’ll apply this unguent, if you’ll allow.”

“I’ll, uh, go back to the waiting room.” Lyra sounded flat, as if something had taken all the wind out of her sails. “See you later, Bon-Bon.” She left without waiting for a response.

“Lyra, wait –”

Too late. She was gone.

Bon-Bon watched Zecora approach, wondering whether she should play along with this ignorance charade too. “Hi, Miss Zecora.”

“Miss Zecora! How polite. You sure performed a coup last night. Please show me where you were burned worst,” Zecora instructed loudly. When she leaned in close, however, she whispered, “How goes your hunger and your thirst?”

“I’m running on empty,” Bon-Bon confessed.

“I’m not the least surprised at that. I’m more surprised you’re not out flat. You used a lot of energy.” She passed over a bundle wrapped in greaseproof paper. “A gift for you, made fresh by me.”

Bon-Bon hastily unwrapped deep fried chunks of sweetened batter and tried not to groan in pleasure at the scent. She crammed each into her mouth as Zecora rubbed the cold, jelly-like medicine into her balding side. The zebra used her body to shield the feast from the door, lest Doctor Stable return from wherever he had run off to at the worst moment. The sudden influx of carbohydrates, fat and sugar did more for Bon-Bon’s wellbeing than the unguent, though the feel of the medicine was refreshing against the dull ache of her burns.

“Your Lyra is quite mad at you,” Zecora whispered. “What in Equestria did you do?”

“I ran into a burning building and nearly got myself blown up. Did you know banishing powder is explosive when exposed to high amounts of heat or real flames? Because it is. It really is. And she’s not my Lyra.”

Zecora’s smooth motions did not falter as she rubbed. “I’ll write that down and make a note: ‘this action we do not promote’. As for your antics of last night, you gave my poor heart such a fright. When Twilight told me what went on, I feared the worst for you, Bon-Bon.”

“I couldn’t not do anything, Zecora. I know it was dumb to take such a risk, especially since there wasn’t any demon involved, but you know I’m tough enough to pull off a rescue like that where nopony else could.” She swallowed the last bite. “Well, half a rescue.”

“I heard about the fillies eight,” Zecora said softly. “It was already far too late. No matter how you rushed or fled, you know they were already dead.”

“I know,” Bon-Bon replied, defeat softening her words to a mumble. “But I can’t help feeling like I failed them.”

“You saved lives. That is a good thing. Soon your praises, all will sing.”

“Celestia’s sweet shiny horn, I hope not. If I could have done everything in secret, I would’ve preferred that.”

“But you did not. You did what was right, and that, dear Bon-Bon, is a true hero’s might.” Zecora reapplied the cloth lid to the pot, rubbed her hooves on a towel she had brought with her and replaced the unguent in her satchel. “To be heroic just for fame is nothing but a foolish game. You don’t want fame, nor recognition for your plucky exhibition. Yet you exposed what you could do – enough that ponies noticed you – for it was the right thing to do.” She smiled. “And I’m so very proud of you.”

“Funny, I’m not proud of me. I think I may have just screwed up royally.”

“We shall see, oh yes we shall.” Zecora looked at the door. “Do you want me to recall your pal?”

“I guess.” Bon-Bon folded her forelegs. “If you like.”

Zecora laughed, though Bon-Bon couldn’t think why. She turned into the corridor, still chuckling, and Bon-Bon was left once more to contemplate her thoughts while waiting for somepony. She expected Lyra. What she got, however, was not Lyra. Not even close. Well, maybe the horn, but that was it.

“Hi there,” Twilight said softly. “Are you feeling any better?” She gave a small laugh. “What am I saying? You’re awake. You must be. Um, right?” It sounded like she had been taking oration lessons from Fluttershy.

Oh … ponyfeathers. Bon-Bon smiled wanly. “I’ll live. Which … I guess I have you to thank for.”

Twilight shook her head as she stepped hesitantly into the room. “I was just doing triage, the same as the others who knew some medical magic.”

“Modesty. Nice.” Bon-Bon watched Twilight’s expression and dialled back her natural sarcasm. “But seriously, thanks. A lot. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be street pizza right now.”

“I think you’re the one who deserves thanks,” Twilight observed. “Although, from what I hear, you’re doubting whether you deserve them.”

“You guys sure like to talk among yourselves, don’t you?” Bon-Bon folded her forelegs instinctively.

“Bon-Bon, about the fillies. It wasn’t –”

“My fault. Yes, I know. I’ve been told.”

Twilight frowned a little. “You don’t sound like you believe it.”

“Because I don’t. I should have checked the other dormitory first.”

“And if you had the colts’ dormitory floor would have collapsed and taken them and Holly Dash with it.”

Bon-Bon blinked in surprise. “What?”

“The floor collapsed only a few seconds after you evacuated the room.”

“That might have had something to do with the explosion. Floors don’t tend to like those.”

Yet Twilight shook her head. “No, the floor was starting to give way while you were still standing on it. If you hadn’t gone out of the window when you did, you may not have had the chance to get out at all.”

“I … I didn’t know that.” A shiver traced the length of Bon-Bon’s spine. She had been that close to dying and hadn’t even realised it?

Then again, wasn’t that the nature of death? You rarely saw it coming and even more rarely saw it while you still had time to do something about it.

Why was it that everything always came back to the question of mortality for her?

“Bon-Bon? Are you okay?” Twilight asked in concern.

“Yeah,” Bon-Bon replied unconvincingly. “Yeah, I’m … I’m fine.”

Out of nowhere, she wondered what the Slayer after her would be like. Another earth pony mare, that was a given, but where would she be from? What was her name? Had the power already earmarked her as next in line, or would it have to search for somepony when Bon-Bon died? Absurdly, she pictured a ghostly pony spirit with a cutie mark of the word ‘Fate’ stamping its hooves in frustration that she hadn’t shuffled off the mortal coil yet.

“You don’t look fine.” Twilight twisted her neck to peer up into Bon-Bon’s face. “Should I fetch the doctor?”

“No. I’m fine. Truly. I’m just … I didn’t know that about the floor, that’s all. It’s a reality check. You know how it is. I’ll bet you’ve had a bunch, with all the adventures and crazy stunts you and your friends have pulled, right?”

Twilight was silent for a long moment. “I suppose,” she eventually admitted. “I never really think about it while it’s happening. It’s all just instinct until afterwards, when I sit back and wonder what the hay I was thinking.” She smiled. It upped her adorability at least fifty points.

Bon-Bon sat up. “That’s exactly what I was trying to explain to Lyra. I wasn’t trying to be a hero or get some weird thrill, it was just instinct. I saw what was going on, I wanted to help and I could, so I did.” It was like a mathematical equation: big-ass fire plus endangered fillies plus Slayer abilities equals rescue.

“Let me guess: she got mad at you for it?”

“How did you know?”

“My family did the same when they heard how I ran off to fight Nightmare Moon.” Twilight’s smile turned rueful. “My dad, especially, had a hard time understanding why I would throw myself into the path of danger when it wasn’t my responsibility.”

“But … it was Nightmare Moon.”

“I know.” Twilight blew out a sigh. “For the longest time, he just didn’t get it. Princess Celestia has the Royal Guard, he told me; it should have been them who went charging off to save her, not me. He genuinely couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to leave it to professional ponies like them. He got so mad at me for being reckless that he didn’t say a word about me being an Element of Harmony. My mom had to talk him down and explain it to him once he’d had a chance to cool off.”

“And did he get it after that?”

“Sort of. It took him a while, but he understands it more now. I think the thing with Queen Chrysalis finally made him appreciate what makes me do things like … well, like the things I do. If he could’ve, he would have tried to take down the whole changeling army with his own two hooves for what Chrysalis did to Cadence and Shining Armour, not to mention how she locked me away in the caves under Canterlot. Now that’s reckless and stupid, but he still would’ve done it.”

“Oh. Wow.” Bon-Bon couldn’t imagine either of her parents doing anything like that. They had barely put up a fight when she left home, though consider what had preceded the decision to go … Pushing away that particular wreck of a thought-train, she studied her hooves so she wouldn’t have to look at Twilight.

“We’ve never really talked before, have we?” Twilight asked.

“Um …”

“When I first came to Ponyville I figured there was no point in learning everypony’s name because I wasn’t going to be here long enough. Heh, I nearly thought it wasn’t worth learning anypony’s name. Then I stayed and I wanted to know everything and everyone in this place. It’s ah, uh, bad habit of mine to go overboard with research. But you? I don’t think we’ve ever had an actual conversation.”

There’s a really, really, good reason for that. You aren’t supposed to pay attention to me, or you might start noticing stuff you shouldn’t notice. Instead of saying this, however, Bon-Bon settled for, “Nopony can know everypony.” She had hoped she would sound cryptic, but the words sounded more like she was trying to be pretentiously deep.

“No, I guess not.” Twilight smiled. Damn her for being so adorable. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying, does it?”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. And yes. “I guess not.” Damn!

“Though, I never expected to have a conversation in circumstances like this.” Twilight gestured at the hospital room. “Rainbow Dash, maybe, but not you. You always struck me as rather … reserved, I guess.”

“Reserved?” Bon-Bon remembered shoving a tree branch through a monster’s skull and nearly laughed out loud.

“Um, okay.” Twilight used only a fraction of the time Rainbow Dash had spent finding the right words. “Brooding?”

“I think you mean grouchy and antisocial,” Bon-Bon supplied. She waved a hoof when Twilight tried to protest. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard them all.” Even when ponies were on the other side of the town square, she had heard them talk about her grumpiness and unsociability. Until very recently, Lyra had been the only one she openly and intentionally spent time with, so they hadn’t been entirely wrong.

“No!” Twilight still objected. “I didn’t meant it like that. I … um … I just … This isn’t coming out at all like I planned. I intended to come in here, make you feel better and then let the next pony in. Instead, all I’ve done is insult you.”

“No you haven’t. I’m just bent out of shape over …” Bon-Bon paused, trying to settle on an end to the sentence. “Everything. This hasn’t been a good day. Night. Whatever.”

“No.” Twilight bent her head and took a step backwards. “I should go.”

Yes. Yes, you should. Go away. Go far away. “No, wait, you don’t have to.” What the hay am I doing? “I … I’d like to have a conversation with you. If you want. Maybe. Or, y’know, whatever.” She shrugged, inwardly cursing herself every swear word she knew – and she had learned a lot in her misbegotten youth.

Twilight beamed like she had been crowned May Queen all over again and Bon-Bon tried to ignore the little voice telling her this was a very, very bad idea.

Somnambula climbed the stone staircase to the upper galleries. A few days ago she would have been unable to make it all the way without collapsing, but now she felt invigorated and strong. Energy coursed through her veins and buzzed delightfully in her mind. She felt like she could do anything. She smiled. She almost could.

Almost.

She didn’t bother knocking. He told her to but she ignored the order as a matter of course. She was not some subordinate come toadying for a few scraps of food. They were equals and he would treat her as such, even if he didn’t want to.

“I knew it was you,” he said as soon as her feet crossed the threshold.

She canted her voluptuous hips to one side. “Well, who else would it be?”

He was staring out of the window at the barren landscape outside like he hadn’t seen it every day for far too long. She joined him but had no patience for ruminating in the dark the way he did. She was a head taller than him when she had consumed fresh life and her body had returned to its rightful glory. Just because she could, she raised her arms, luxuriating in a stretch that made her taller still.

He growled, perfectly aware of what she was doing. “What do you want, Somnambula?”

“Such discourtesy! Maybe I simply desire the pleasure of your company.”

He growled louder.

“All right, all right,” she sighed. Flipping a lock of silky black hair from her eyes, she stared at the window instead of directly at him. It was easier to be civil when they weren’t trying to out-stare each other, each trying to make the other feel inferior to themselves. For longstanding allies, they had a hard time tolerating each other without coming to blows. “I merely wondered whether you had heard any news from your …” She pontificated on the correct word to use. “… Servant in the other realm.”

He took a long time to respond – an old tactic that made her roll her eyes in irritation. She disliked being made to wait for anything. “I have.”

“And?” she asked after a brief silence.

“The ploy was successful. I dispatched a party to fetch the new arrivals from their entrance point.”

“Which one did he use?” There were two the servant had easy access to, neither too far away from here.

“Which do you think?”

“He’s using that one too much. It’s sloppy, especially with a Slayer placed so close to him. If he isn’t careful, she find him out and then everything will be ruined.”

“He informed me that the Slayer was injured in his ploy.”

“Dead?” Somnambula said sharply. If this current Slayer died too soon their carefully constructed plans would be jeopardised –

“No. Merely injured, as we both know, a Slayer doesn’t stay injured for long.”

She breathed out in relief. “Then things will proceed as planned?”

“Unless you gorge yourself on all the unicorns in the meantime, yes.”

She bristled. “I need to stay at full power and you know it.”

“I know that I don’t suck them dry in every sitting.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment the room shook. The ceiling gave out breaths of dust and mortar, as if a dragon was walking across the roof. Of course, that was absurd. The dragons had all died out years ago. Since she was so newly repowered, Somnambula’s sharp ears were able to make out the distant scream of rage that accompanied the vague shuffling of masonry.

“No,” she said pointedly. “You don’t need to bother yourself with pony foals when you have that, do you?” She curled her lip in disgust. His propensity for something so old disgusted her. She imagined tearing off a strip of ancient aura and nearly gagged. Whereas the prospect of a new-born pony, on the other hand –

“Was there anything else?” he demanded, interrupting her thoughts. He sounded irritated. She had gotten him with that last remark.

Somnambula smiled viciously. A victory was a victory, however small. All they had left these days were small victories and big plans. Oh, such big, big plans. “No, nothing else. I’ll just leave you to your gloom.”

“What do you intend to do now?”

“Oh, I thought I’d go and …” She raised her gaze to the tower, just visible from this window. “Play with your food.”

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