The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story

by TheMessenger

4. Elders’ Eyes Upon You

4. Elders’ Eyes Upon You

Supper resumed and ended in silence, despite Harvest’s attempts to engage in conversation. Even the little filly eventually seemed to recognize the air of seriousness in the room and quietly concentrated on her food. The stew had been delicious, the fresh additions made it even more so than the one from earlier, but Rarity found it impossible to enjoy in such a tense and solemn atmosphere that she wasn’t exactly sure she could explain.

Elder Woods, that was the name of the village head, if Rarity remembered correctly. Farm Right had been right; the pony outside was swiftly join by a second messenger, requesting an audience on the behalf of Woods and the village with Her Highness at the earliest convenience.

Farm had looked over his shoulder at the dining table, at his family and their guest. Confusion, worry, and uncertainty were all expressed on the stallion’s face as he turned to Rarity. Slowly, she rose from her seat.

“After supper,” Hearth Stead had asserted. The ponies outside started to protest, making arguments about not wasting Elder Woods’s time and keeping order in the village. Hearth Stead was unmoved.

“After supper,” Hearth had said, and that had been the final word.

Well, the final spoonfuls were now being finished, the bowls were all emptied, and loaf had been reduced to crumbs. They sat there quietly, trying to waste away a couple of more minutes when Farm Right sighed and got to his hooves. “Well, guess that’s that. Come on, Princess, we’d better get going.”

“We could use some help with cleaning,” Hearth suggested, motioning to the table. “I’m sure Elder Woods would understand.”

Farm shook his head. “We’ve delayed long enough. Princess?”

Rarity got up as well. “I agree. It wouldn’t be very becoming to keep everypony waiting.” She turned to Hearth. “Thank you for the lovely meal. Excuse us.”

Three ponies started toward the door. “Harvest,” Farm Right began, frowning.

“I’m going too.”

“Harvest, come here and help me clean up,” called Hearth.

“No, I’m going too.” The filly stamped her hoof. “What if they try to make the princess leave? I need to be there to stop them.”

Farm Right glanced over to Hearth. They shared an uncomfortable look. “Look, Harvest, we all want what’s best for all of us, including the princess. Whatever happens, it’ll be for the—“

“No!” Harvest screamed. “Everypony here is a coward! They’re all too afraid to actually do anything except hide and hope the Squid Wizard just keeps ignoring us. And now that the princess is back, we’re just going to return her to the bad guys? Is that what Summer Springs would’ve wanted?”

“That’s enough,” Farm exclaimed. “We are leaving, and you, young filly, are staying home. That’s final.” He sighed. “You’ll understand when you’re older, but until then,” he said, his tone becoming stern once more, “leave this to the adults. Am I understood?”

“But—“

“Am I understood?”

All of Harvest’s little body seemed to shake, of helpless anger, of hopeless frustration. She turned to her mother, but there was no support to be found there; Hearth Stead simply looked away. She returned her gaze to Farm, but despite her large sad, desperate eyes, the stallion appeared unmoved. Defeated, she bowed her head and let her shoulders sagged.

It was for the best that Harvest’s eyes were downcast, else she’d have spot the relief on Farm Right’s face as easily as everypony else. “Good girl, now—“

Rarity stumbled back from the sudden force to her front. It was a familiar blow, one any friend of Pinkie Pie quickly became accustomed to. She looked down at the filly who had rushed over and latched herself onto her.

“I-if we don’t s-see each other again,” Harvest was whispering between hiccups. “I w-want to s-say, g-goodbye.”

Rarity placed a hoof on Harvest’s head and gently brushed her mane. “It’ll be alright. Please, don’t cry,” she cooed softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. And certainly not without saying goodbye to you first.”

Harvest sniffed. “P-promise?”

“I do. And a lady is only as good as her word.”

Harvest didn’t fight, didn’t even say a word, when her mother peeled her away. She must have tired herself out, Rarity reasoned. She could sympathize, an emotional cry could be quite draining, especially for such a young filly. Held between Hearth’s forelegs, Harvest managed to return Rarity’s wave right before she and Farm Right stepped outside and shut the door behind them.

The village was dark. There were no streetlights, and few lights could been seen from the neighboring cottages. Clouds hid away the moon and the stars, and besides the small hooded lantern Farm carried, the only other light source Rarity could detect was a distant glow further within the village, in the same direction Farm Right was leading her.

Was that the wind, or were those whispers? She looked around to discover a few ponies walking the same way they were. They kept their distance and became silent when they noticed Rarity’s stare, but the second her back was turned, the whispers resumed.

Farm Right cleared his throat. “Summer Spring, that’s Harvest’s older brother. My oldest.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Hearth and me, we couldn’t agree when he was born. I’d say late spring, she’d say the start of summer.” Farm chuckled. “Strong boy, but a bit bookish. Loved telling stories, made his own too. I kept worrying he’d leave us for one of them fancy academies. Instead, he volunteered with what was left of the royal guard when they came along recruiting for that one final hurrah.”

The last couple of words were bitter. Rarity kept silent. The glow grew brighter as the structures became few and more spaced out.

“Harvest looked, well, looks up to him, still thinks he’s out there fighting the good fight.” Farm sighed. “Sorry, Princess. I don’t blame you, nopony with half a brain would, but just wanted to explain, before anything else happens. See, Summer Spring weren’t the only pony this village’s lost.”

“I, see. Farm Right, I need to say something, I’m not who you think—“

“We’re here.” Rarity followed Farm’s gesture toward what seemed to be a small bonfire. Several logs with ponies already seated on them surrounded the flame contained in a pit of uncut stones. Eyes turned away from the crackling, burning wood and toward her. “Sorry, you were saying something?”

A cool evening breeze came through, picking up sparks and hints of hushed conversations. Rarity shivered. “I—“

“Oh, dang,” Farm Right suddenly muttered with a shake of his head. He stepped forward, placing himself right in front of Rarity as another stallion, his coat a dirty beige and mane darkly blond, approached. Like Farm, this new pony had the build of a workhorse, with toned back and shoulder muscles and a wide neck. He was noticeably larger than Farm, a taller too, but what distinguished him were his gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes that did not match the rest of his body. Those left him looking thin and exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept for days. A shadow, cast from the nearby flames perhaps, seemed to linger over his features, further attributing to that tired appearance. A tied bundle of straw served as his Cutie Mark.

The stallion’s eyes narrowed even further. “Farm Right,” he said slowly, with each syllable emphasized.

Farm shot a scowl back. “Don’t want any trouble now, Rowdy,” he said. “You’ve made your case already.”

“I did, didn’t I.” The sullen stallion chuckled lowly. “You made sure Her Highness—“

The title was spat out with such venom, Rarity instinctively took a step back.

“—understood, yeah?”

“I told her what she needs to know. No need to go repeat and embarrass yourself further.”

The stallion lowered his head, keeping it eye level to Farm Right. “Is that so?”

Farm took a similar stance. He pawed at the dirt separating them. Several ponies had begun to take notice, and a small crowd was starting to form. “Yeah.”

“Farm, please,” Rarity whispered. “Let’s go.” He didn’t respond, not even an acknowledgement. The crowd was getting larger, but nopony made any attempts to deescalate. If anything, the growing crowd seemed to encourage confrontation. Rarity took a deep breath and stepped between the two stallion.

Farm Right nearly lost his balance. “Princess, what are you—“

Rarity ignored him. “Rowdy, was it?” she said instead, turning to the larger stallion.

Those tired looking eyes blinked. “That’s right.” The hesitation was only for a split second, but it was present.

“Well, Mr. Rowdy—“

A loud, collective gasp filled the air that was just as suddenly snuffed out when Rarity turned her gaze to the crowd. “Mr. Rowdy,” she continued, “it appears that you take issue to my presence in your village, or is that inference mistaken?”

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me being here?”

The stallion straightened and found himself now looming over Rarity. A hush came over everypony watching. His gaze met Rarity’s, and for the brief moment it held, every breath was held. He quickly looked away. “I might,” he mumbled.

“Well, if you have any issues with me, you’re welcome to let me know. But no matter what disagreements you may have with Mr. Right, it doesn’t justify picking a fight. For shame.” Rarity turned to Farm. “Honesty, going to blows like a bunch of untaught colts. What would Hearth or Harvest think if they saw you now?”

“We weren’t really going to fight, Princess,” Farm said quietly.

“Good.” Rarity turned back to the stallion named Rowdy. “Now then, if you have something to say, go on, speak.”

The ponies watching were starting to mutter amongst themselves once again as the sullen stallion turned red. His drawn features twisted into a scowl, and he opened his mouth.

“Enough.”

Everypony looked to the figures standing behind Rowdy. They were equine in shape, Rarity could tell that much, but the rest of the defining details were shrouded by shadows from the fire behind them. One of the figures placed a firm hoof on the stallion’s shoulder. At the touch, his entire body seemed to sag.

The other stepped out of the darkness. A mare, with a powerful and defined physique barely softened by her feminine structure and curvatures, similar to that of Applejack. Her body was of an ashy gray color with a braided mane to match, perhaps a shade or two darker. A single scar, the remains of a once large open gash, ran over the bridge of her snout, right below her light blue eyes, and a quiver of arrows adorned her flanks

The second figure soon followed, removing the hoof from Rowdy and limping out of the shadows. If the first figure reminded Rarity of Applejack, this one was more like Granny Smith, with crooked parts that appeared to creak and groan with each motion and wrinkles for every year past their prime. They were male, with limbs attached at edges and angles instead of ending in rounded bends like his companion. His front leg, the one that stayed grounded when its brother was raised to Rowdy’s shoulder, appeared particularly stiff. The limb was partially discolored as well, brown up to the knee in contrast to the gray of rest of the old stallion’s coat, which was marked with bold black lines and dark spots and in dire need of a good brushing.

More became visible as he drew closer. His white mane was cropped short and styled so that it stuck together and pointed up toward the sky, like the bristled brush of a broom. More black lines, like the ones on his body, streaked across his face. Strips of white linen were tied around the stallion’s head, covering his eyes. His tail appeared to have been sheared, bare save for the very tip. As for his Cutie Mark, Rarity couldn’t entirely tell. It appeared to be a large jagged swirl of sorts, but its meaning eluded her despite invoking a vague sense of familiarity.

“Elder Woods,” Farm Right greeted, bending his neck. The old stallion returned the gesture. “I thought.” He looked around at the crowd and frown. “I thought this was supposed to be a private thing. You know, between you and the princess. It looks like the entire village is here.”

“The princess’s presence affects us all. Should not the whole village hear her before I make my call?”

The black lines, the distinctive mane style, the odd Cutie Mark, and now the rhyming. Was Elder Woods a zebra? Rarity only had Zecora as a reference, but there certainly were similarities that could be drawn between the Everfree Forest hermit and this village’s leader, from their appearances to that air of mystery with which they carried themselves.

Such musings were interrupted when the old pony, possibly zebra turned to Rarity and began approaching. The discolored leg seemed to bury itself into the dirt with each step it took, and it made no noise in contrast to the soft clicks of hooves against ground that the other three made. As he got closer and Rarity got a better view, it became clear why; much of the leg was artificial, carved out of wood.

He stopped a couple of steps directly before her, an impressive feat considering the coverings over the zebra’s eyes, and bowed his head. “Princess Shmarity, Her Highness of these lands. You grace our little village with your presence so grand. A thousand pardons for making Your Highness wait, but I had matters to attend that kept me late.”

“It’s quite alright. And please, there’s no need to bow.”

The crowd stirred at Rarity’s assurance. Slowly, cautiously, the older equine lifted his head. “If that is your insistence, I shall obey. Tell me, Princess, how have you enjoyed your brief stay?”

“It’s been wonderful,” Rarity said. “I can’t thank your village enough for the hospitality I’ve been shown, especially from Farm Right and his household.”

The large stallion in the back snorted and muttered something under his breath.

“Rowdy, do you have something to add?”

“Nothing I haven’t said already,” Rowdy grumbled, ignoring the glares from the audience and from Farm Right. “And nothing nopony with half a brain who actually cares about their neighbors and family don’t already know.”

“Oh, shut your gab,” Farm growled. Some in the crowd nodded in agreement. Others now scowled and sneered at him. Bickering soon broke out. “All you’ve done is gripe and complain and—“

“Enough!”

The scarred mare had been the one to speak and silence the crowd. “We’ve heard all of your arguments already. That is not why we’re here. We’re here to hear her,” she said, pointing at Rarity.

“Thank you, Huntress, my dear,” Elder Woods said with a nod in the mare’s direction. He turned back to face Rarity. “Now please, Princess, tell us how you end up here. The last we had heard, you were prisoner of that magic squid none could defeat. Is it possible, has that tentacled terror been beat?”

Murmurs among the watching ponies began anew. Excited, hopeful whispers and scoffs of incredulity mingled in the air as Rarity considered her only honest answer. The truth was a disappointing reality, but Farm Right and his village deserved better than half-baked lies.

“I, I don’t know.”

Those that had been paying attention became quiet. Others who took notice to their fellows joined the confused hush after a few short inquiries. Some, like Rowdy, frowned.

“You don’t know?” said the mare with the scar. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—“

“Did you see the heroes or maybe a few stray adventurers?” the mare continued. “Was there a fight? How did you get away? What don’t you know?”

“Anything!” Rarity suddenly found herself shrieking. It was as if every bit of stress she had experienced from the minute she woke up had been building up and boiling, waiting for an opening to explode out of. Well, it got its opening, a chance for her to finally express and air out her frustration, manners be damned. “I don’t know anything about where in Equestria I am or what I’m doing here or what’s going on. I’m sorry.” She looked to Farm Right, the stallion who had shown her such kindness. “I’m sorry, but I’m not this Princess Shmarity. My name is Rarity. Rarity! All I know is that I woke up this morning in a bed that wasn’t my own wearing a dress I wouldn’t dare be seen in unless I was six during Nightmare Night in a cell owned by some silly squid that got into that stage performer Trixie’s wardrobe who put two of my friends in some kind of a coma after dressing them in garish costumes from a cheap fantasy production and drawing Xs over their eyes!”

Her chest heaved as her lungs struggled to gather enough oxygen to compensate for the flood of words she expelled. Rarity took a deep breath. “Oh, and my horn’s missing, and I don’t know why or how or what I need to do to get my magic back, and normally that would be my greatest concern, but with how this day has gone, I don’t know what to be most worried about. So excuse when I say I don’t know because I. Really. Don’t. Have a clue about what’s going on!”

Rarity, face flushed red, again fought to breathe evenly as the crowd stood sand stared silently, for a good long minute. Then came their questions, all screamed over one another, leaving everything except for a few contextless words obscured and unintelligible. Anger and confusion could be heard in their voices and seen in their eyes. The mare with the scar shouted and stomped and pointed, but her attempts to establish order were largely ignored.

Any feelings of relief from having finally releasing all that pent-up anxiety, vanished with one glance at Farm Right. His features were a collage of emotions, of worry and concern, of confusion, of uncertainty, like a lost child separated from their guardian. Over the din, Rarity uttered one more apology as clearly as possible, hoping that he could at least read her lips. There was no reaction from the farmer who just continued to stare. Rarity turned away and looked instead at Woods.

The elderly zebra’s face was unreadable. He wore a mostly blank expression with a a small, almost unnoticeable frown. For a while, he simply stood there, standing directly in front of Rarity. He tilted his head to one side, then to the other, then coughed.

It wasn’t a very loud sound, quite soft really, but despite the noise coming from the crowd, Rarity still heard the cough clearly. It appeared she wasn’t the only one as the other ponies gave pause and turned to the old zebra in front of the bonfire. The hoots of owls and chirps of crickets along with the snaps and pops of the flames licking away at the wood were the only sounds now as all waited on Elder Woods.

“Start from the beginning,” he said.

And so Rarity did, from the moment she awoken onward. Woods interjected every so often at her mentions of Ponyville and Equestria, making sure he had heard correctly, but for the rest he was quiet. Rarity wished she could’ve said about the scarred mare who seemed to have a question every other sentence. How many guards were there, what was the quality of their armaments, were there any large monsters, how high were the walls, what were the walls made of, were any secret passages or magical artifacts, and the only answer Rarity could provide, a short admission of ignorance, was one the mare did not care for.

The only answer she seemed satisfied with was Rarity’s description of the large squid, this “Squid Wizard” as the mare called it, perhaps the same “Squidzard” Harvest mention. The whole crowd gasped when she got to her interaction with it, and Elder Woods’s brow furrowed when she mentioned how the squid seemed to refer to her as “Princess Shmarity,” just as the village had been doing. The gasps grew louder and there were even cries when Rarity reached the part about Spike and Discord’s unmoving bodies being presented to her. Elder Woods became just as intrusive as the mare next to him, asking multiple times whether Rarity was certain about what she had seen, what were the details, and was her description of Spike and Discord accurate.

“And was there a third?” the mare with the scar added once Woods was finished. “A large red stallion in armor. Was he among them?”

“No. It was just Spike and Discord. The only armored ponies were the guards.”

“Then, then there’s still hope.” The mare let out a sigh. “If Sir Bigguns is still alive, maybe—“

“Maybe what?” Rowdy suddenly exclaimed. “He’s one stallion. I wasn’t sure ‘bout their chances when there were just three of them, and now that Garbunkle and Captain Wuzz are dead, well, what can Sir Bigguns do now?”

“They’re not dead.”

The sullen stallion turned to glare at Rarity. “What was that?”

“Spike and Discord aren’t dead. They, they’re just sleeping. Or under a spell.”

“Oh, shut it!” Rowdy took a step toward her. “That’s ridiculous, and don’t go trying to give us all false hope. You’ve done enough already.”

“Hey!” Farm Right once again placed himself between Rarity and Rowdy. “Don’t you talk to her that way.”

“Or what?” Rowdy laughed. “Why are you defending her? She’s not the princess, she said it herself. For all we know, she could be a spy or something. Heck, don’t know why she even acts like she cares about the deaths of those heroes, nopony here’s falling for it.”

“How dare you!” Rarity growled. She found herself trying to push past Farm Right. “How dare you say I don’t care about Spike! How—“

“Ha, you can’t even get their names right,” Rowdy said, snorting. “Well you can’t fool me, I—“

“Enough.”

Elder Woods hadn’t raised his voice, and his tone remained calm and measured, but at that single word, barely even a command, Rowdy shut his mouth. His lips pressed tightly together, and his cheeks became red, as if the effort of containing the rest of his opinions to himself was causing physical strain. The zebra turned back to Rarity.

“Now, continue, if you please. We’ve yet to learn how you broke free.”

“I, I’m afraid I really don’t quite know.” The mare with the scar narrowed her gaze and opened her mouth, but Rarity continued on before her complaints could be vocalized. “I remember trying to get to my friends. The guards, they were all over me, trying to keep me away. I fell, and then there was this white light that filled the room, and when it faded, I found myself at you village’s doorstep.”

“A blinding white light,” Elder Woods hummed.

“Did you hear any incantations,” the scarred mare, Elder Woods had called her huntress, either as a name or a title, questioned. “See any images or runes? Was there a source to the light?”

“No, no, and I don’t believe so.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Rowdy scoffed as murmurs and mutterings resumed within the audience. “Elder Woods, you don’t actually believe what she’s saying, right? It’s crazy, ridiculous. Don’t fall for her—“

The old zebra silenced the stallion with a raised hoof, his only front hoof. Slowly, he brought the hoof to his face and tapped the wrappings around his eyes. “Huntress?”

The mare called huntress approached. She hesitated before lifting her own hooves and undoing the bindings. There were more gasps in the crowd, and many of the ponies Rarity observed turned their gaze to the night sky, the ground, anywhere other than directly at her, Huntress, or Elder Woods. She turned back to face the elderly zebra just as strips of linen fluttered to the ground.

Staring blankly back at her were a pair of milky orbs. There were no pupils or irises, just an endless sea of white. The village head moved toward Rarity, suddenly appearing inches away at a speed she wouldn’t have thought possible for the old zebra. Wordlessly, he placed both his front hoof and the end of his artificial leg against the sides of Rarity’s head and held it still, forcing her gaze to met his. Any urge to struggle or look away or even blink disappeared. The world became blank, as white as those sightless eyes. A slight buzz rang through her ears that drowned out the ambient nocturne sounds and the crackling of the fire.

“I see.” Elder Woods released Rarity’s head, letting it drop and hang limply and break eye contact.

“Well?” the mare called Huntress asked.

Elder Woods closed his eyes. “She believes what she says is true. There will be no need for more questions, she has indeed told us all she knew.”

“Then, she’s telling the truth?” the scarred mare asked. “She’s not Princess Shmarity?”

The zebra pointed to the discarded wrappings. As Huntress helped tie them back over his eyes, Elder Woods answered, saying, “All I can say is that she believes it so, but whether that is reality, I do not know. The Squid Wizard’s arcane powers are mysterious and vast, it is possible this is all a result of a spell he’s cast.”

“A spell that changes a pony’s identity and memories?” Huntress frowned. “For what purpose?”

Elder Woods shook his head and shrugged. “Who can say what the Squid Wizard has planned. It could be a way to seed chaos across the land. Or maybe it was just a mistake and a sign that his might is starting to wane. Her presence could be a boon or a bane, for certain I cannot say.” He sighed, and his shoulders sagged. He turned to Rarity, and what vigor was left in his aged body seemed to leave, leaving him appearing very exhausted. Every wrinkle on his face deepened as he frowned. “However, for the safety of our village, she cannot stay.”

Farm Right was the one to break the silence that followed the village head’s announcement. “W-wait a minute, we can’t just—“

Elder Woods raised another hoof, cutting Farm off. “You have your objections, and I understand why, but the dangers of keeping her here are too high. If this was indeed an escape and not an elaborate ruse, the Squid Wizard’s guards will be on the look-out, and a battle with them is one we will surely lose, and it would be a costly battle at that, of that there’s no doubt.“

“But—“

“Farm Right, I commend your kindness and compassion, but I cannot permit endangering us all in this fashion. Are you willing to throw away our lives, not just yours and neighbors, but that of your child and wife?”

“I—“ Farm’s limbs shook. He looked away, muttering curses under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.” Elder Woods bowed his head. “You may stay for the night,” he said to Rarity, “but you must leave this place at first daylight. It pains me to abandon a being so confused and lost, but to continue harboring you here, we cannot afford the cost. Please understand, as its head, I must ensure that my village strives. If we ever drew the Squid Wizard attention and ire, this place would not likely survive.”

The evening air had gotten much cooler. Rarity shivered. “Where would I go?” she asked. Her voice was soft, subdued, and dulled as she struggled to contain her rising panic. Again, she found herself grappling with a question she had no answer.

“There’s a town with an adventurers’ league out in the west, about a week or so away,” Huntress interjected. “Baldursgait, I think it was. With that many adventurers around, she could easily find a place to hide or find help. At the very least, they’d be better equipped at defending themselves if the Squid Wizard ever caught wind of her.”

“Hm.” Elder Woods tapped his chin as he considered the suggestion. “Yes, that may be for the best. Come morning, leave for Baldursgait in the west.”

“Wait, we’re just letting her go?”

All turned to the stallion who had spoken, and for a moment, he shrunk back at the sudden attention. A crease formed in the bindings around Elder Woods eyes as they narrowed behind them. “Rowdy, you were the one against having her here from the very start. Or has there been a change of heart?”

“What? No, that’s not it,” Rowdy said hurriedly. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly becoming uncomfortable from all of the attention as now the audience’s whispers were about him. “It’s just, I was thinking, if we gave her back to, you know, them—“

Boos and groans from the crowd interrupted him. “Listen, think about it!” he shouted, gesturing frantically. “If we cut a deal, say we caught her or something, maybe we’d earn some favors, keep everypony here safe. We’d—“

Screams filled the air as the small bonfire suddenly exploded into a towering inferno, completely consuming the fuel, leaving nothing but smoke, ash, and darkness. What little light was left was provide by a couple of torches and a few lit lanterns. Something dashed through the shadows. Once again, Elder Woods’s speed exceed Rarity’s expectations as Rowdy suddenly found himself face to face with the blind, old zebra. The gaunt stallion took a step back, and with an audible gulp, he shut his mouth.

“No.”

“But—“

“My decision has been made. To such an idea, I will not be swayed. Suggesting something so shortsighted and cruel.” Elder Woods scoffed. “Making a deal with the Squid Wizard? Don’t be a fool.“

The larger stallion clicked his tongue and scowled before turning his back to the village leader and marching away. The crowd parted, letting him through without trouble while Elder Woods continued to face Rowdy’s path. When darkness hid Rowdy from everypony else’s eyes, Elder Woods let his sightless gaze fall. He let out a sigh and began to sway. The scarred mare immediately went to his side, letting him lean against her for support.

“Elder Woods has spoken. This meeting is adjourned. Everypony, return to your homes.” She turned to Rarity. “We’ll discuss the details of your journey tomorrow morning. Rest assured, we will not allow you to leave unprepared.”

Rarity could only nod. The scarred mare turned to face Farm Right. “Are you still willing to house her for the night?“

There had only been seconds between the inquiry and Farm’s answer, but to Rarity, the delay spoke volumes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Make sure she’s comfortable. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s get going Prin—ah, Miss, um, miss.”

With another apathetic nod, Rarity followed Farm Right as he guided them through the village and the crowd of ponies also making their way back home. Home. The very word wanted to make her laugh and cry. Here she was, far from home and with no way of returning. She had hoped that meeting with the village head would have given her answers, but now she felt even more lost.

Lost and abandoned, alone, trapped in a place she didn’t belong with an identity that didn’t belong to her. Her heart felt as heavy as her hooves as she forced herself forward with each dragging step. Rarity didn’t seem to notice when they had stopped before the front door of Farm’s cottage, barely noticed Harvest rushing up to her with dozens of questions already gushing out. Farm Right pulling Harvest to the side, Farm and Hearth Stead speaking in private, setting up those straw mattresses, lying down on one all to herself as her host family squeezed onto the other, it was all just a blur. It didn’t even occur to Rarity that she was going to bed without brushing her teeth or that she hadn’t done anything to avoid bedhead.

The cottage had gone dark. Rarity felt more than a hint of envy toward the ponies next to her who were already lightly snoring. Rarity meanwhile wasn’t sure how much sleep she could manage with every worry she’d been carrying. No doubt they would haunt her nightmares. Still, restless sleep was better than no sleep at all, Rarity supposed as she suppressed a yawn. It had been a very long day, and tomorrow promised to be no shorter. She let her tired eyes close shut. Her thoughts eventually quieted as the lingerings of consciousness faded.

For a moment, all was still and silent. Rarity was at peace.

Then came the sensation of falling.