The Pony On The Wall

by BleedingRaindrops

First published 24th of October, 2013

A young filly inadvertently uncovers one of the most horrible and tragic blunders ever to happen to a citizen of Ponyville.

She ran up to scrape more paint off so she could admire it better, then froze. The eye was still looking at her. This wasn’t the usual illusion that came from perspective drawing, where an image appeared to look directly at the viewer no matter what viewing angle they took. No, the eye had turned, and followed her as she moved toward the ladder.

While chasing after a mischievous thieving phoenix, a young filly uncovers one of the most horrible and tragic blunders ever to happen to a citizen of Ponyville. As her mother and friends try to run from their past, Ink Blot will learn that some jokes are not funny at all.

The shocking sequel to my other story, 2-D Pony.
Special thanks to Web of Hope for helping me edit this story.
The cover art was done by the very talented SagebrushPony.

Fields of Blue (Prologue)

In the early morning hours of a quiet Ponyville summer, the soft wet strokes of a paint brush could be heard through one of the highest windows at Pink Apple Manor.

A touch of red here, a touch of blue there. Stop that run from trailing into the yellow. Lots of pink. Add a splash of green. A bit more there and… The flow of paint to canvas ceased. A soft drip of fuschia pigment onto blank paper continued for a few moments at the filly stopped to breathe, and admire her work. Finished, at last.

Decorating the wall of her room—which she’d long since forgotten the original color of—was an assortment of new colors and fresh paint, guided by the careful hoof of an excited pink filly. Her latest work depicted a pink filly not unlike herself, reaching out toward a similarly pink balloon which was floating away. Detained, however by the enormous cupcake pinning her to the ground, the poor filly could only let tears fall as her heart’s desire escaped her grasp.

Ink Blot wiped the tears from her own eyes, relaxing her shoulders and settling onto the ground. She breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Another masterpiece to her collection. And just as the sun was coming up on Saturday. The crimson glow shone in through the far window, lighting up her latest mural.

Ink Blot stared at her new painting for a few more minutes, allowing the thoughts and emotions which had gone into it to leave her, and paste themselves onto the wall with the paint. Then she went about the task of putting away her painting supplies. Dunking the brushes into a collective pail of water, she carried them over to the washroom and dumped out the dirty water, adding more ugly gray to the already stained washtub. She turned the water on and left the brushes to wash on their own, returning to the paints she’d left out.

And froze. Perched on a bucket of light blue paint, was Spike’s pet phoenix, Peewee. Neither of them moved for a whole minute. He just sat there, staring back at her with his glowing yellow eyes. Then he let out a loud, screeching cry, flapped his wings hard, and took off, tipping the bucket and spilling its contents all over the paint tarps she’d had laid out. Thank goodness for those.

Ink Blot quickly ran to fold up the edges of the tarp and stop the paint from spreading to the floor. It wasn’t an ugly color, but on a stained and polished hardwood floor, it wouldn’t look right. Darn that bird. It was a brand new bucket, too. She’d just opened it the other day. Oh he was so going to get it for this. Either that or Spike would get an earful.

Thankfully, the tarps kept liquids from seeping through, and she could roll it up and throw it in the wash, after rinsing it off outside. What a way to start the day. Ink Blot carefully replaced the lids on the rest of the buckets of paint, and returned them to her paint cabinet, making sure to lock it.

Next, she rolled up the tarp, folding it first so as to not let any paint spill out, and dragged it toward the window—hopefully nopony was up yet. She tossed it out onto the ground below and headed over to the stairs. She heard no startled yelp of despair accompanying the thump of the tarp as it hit the ground. Good. Ink Blot dismissed a silent dissatisfaction that Peewee had not been there as it landed, and headed down the stairs.

“Hi, Inkie Pie!”

“U-AGH” Ink Blot jumped almost clear to the ceiling as her mother appeared out of nowhere. “MO-OM! Would you stop doing that?” she cried, stamping her hoof on the tiled floor.

Ink Blot’s mother, the renowned party planner for Ponyville and lover of all things bright and fun, was about as energetic as one might expect from somepony of her occupation. She also had this nasty habit of appearing right next to you and screaming in your ear for no reason. It was probably enough to give an older pony a heart attack.

The blood slowly returned to Ink Blot’s face as she glowered at the sugary, sticky mess smiling at her from across the kitchen.

“Whatcha doin?” her mother asked, setting down the bowl she’d been mixing and staring intently at Ink Blot, who simply rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to wash off my painting tarp. Peewee spilled all of my light blue all over it.” She continued walking—a bit more stiffly—down the hall to the main door.

“Aww, that doesn’t sound anything like him. Are you sure—”

“Yes. I watched him do it. Can I please just try to enjoy my Saturday, mom?” Ink Blot stopped and turned at the door, glaring back at her mother. She looked hurt by the comment, but seemed to shrug it off.

“I… okay. Go have fun.” Her smile faded and she turned back to her mixing bowl, picking up the spoon and stirring slowly. Ink Blot turned and was about to leave when her mother called back.

“Oh, but stay out of the forest. You know daddy gets worried about you when you’re out there.”

“Mom! I’m just washing my paint tarp off in the stream, it’s not like anything bad can happen around here. Just get off my back, geez!”

“Oh, or the old abandoned barn near the forest. You definitely don’t wanna—”

“MOM!”

“Sorry.”

Ink Blot slammed the door and shook the heat of the argument from her head, then stomped over to the corner of the house where her tarp had landed. Her mother could be so unreasonable at times. Ink Blot gave the area a quick glance to be sure no paint had splattered onto the house, and grabbed the tarp with her teeth.

It was bad enough she had to scare everypony out of their skin whenever she said ‘hello’, but she had to be so overprotective all the time. There was nothing out here that could hurt her—not that anything in the Everfree could either; The worst she’d seen in there was a manticore, and she could easily outrun him. Ink Blot dumped the tarp in the stream and jumped in, stomping out the paint and making sure the whole tarp got wet.

“OW!” Something jabbed Ink Blot in the flank. She leapt out of the water and rubbed her backside, looking around for her attacker. It didn’t take her long to notice the flame colored bird flying right over her head.

“You again? What’s with you? Crazy bird.” She kicked at him, but he just flew higher and screeched loudly, before flying off. Ink Blot growled audibly and trudged back into the water to fetch her tarp before it got washed too far downstream. She’d have to hang it up to dry, but she’d still have a good portion of her day left.

A nice trip to the library would be nice. Twilight was always so kind to young readers, and if her assistant was in, it would give Ink Blot a good chance to tell him off about his crummy nuisance of a pet. She ran inside to grab her saddle bags, ignoring the sounds coming from the kitchen, and took off at a run down the path toward town.

~ ~ ~

The sky was still clear over Ponyville, giving the morning sky a blue to indigo hue stretching from the rising sun to the horizon behind her. Ink Blot felt a pang of dismay at that, but before long a brilliant red streak of cloud began etching its way across the sky.

Ink Blot smiled. The old head weather pony, Rainbow Dash, would never have been caught dead working the sky this early. But thankfully her chosen replacement was an early riser, and took particular attention to the morning sky, when the sun’s rays could create brilliant works of art.

The ride into town took far less time than it should have with a sky painting to watch as she got closer, and by the time Ink Blot had reached town, there were brilliant hues of red and gold dancing across the sunlight horizon. Ink Blot passed by the meadow on the far side of the lake on her way to the library.

This was where the weather pony kept her cloud home, and her eye for detail did not stop with just the weather. Her house was painted with rich hues of red and orange, as well as blues and greens as trim in other places. Rainbow Dash’s house had been themed for rainbows. This house was a rainbow, but looked more like a painting of a sunset.

“Wo-oah!” Ink Blot was so caught up in admiring the sky that she’d completely forgotten about where her hooves were going. With a loud splash, Ink Blot found herself half submerged in the little stream that ran adjacent to the meadow.

“Haha, going for a swim, Ink?” somepony laughed nearby. Ink Blot looked up to find an orange pegasus mare with a red and blue mane hovering over her. She must have just finished with the clouds. Ink Blot stood up and shook herself dry, then trotted up out of the stream, dumping her saddlebags on the ground beside her.

“Eh, I was planning on getting wet anyway,” she said with a smile, looking up at her friend. “Hi, Rainstream.”

Rainstream dropped onto the ground and gave her wings a flick, spraying little droplets of water everywhere. “Well you came to the right place,” Rainstream said with a smile, as a light drizzle moved over them.

This was probably the only part of town where it would always rain. Rainstream was very fond of rain, and while she couldn’t have it rain all the time on Ponyville—the towns ponies would grow irritable when they were stuck inside all day—the flowers here were glad of the drink if it was kept gentle. The rain cloud also moved around so as to water the whole meadow, and not drown just one spot.

“What brings you out here?” Rainstream asked, heading toward the center of the rainfall, where it was thickest. Ink Blot followed silently, leaving her saddlebags on the bank. The rain wasn’t heavy, but there was enough of it that their coats and manes were soaked before long.

“I was heading into town and noticed the clouds,” Ink Blot replied. “I thought I’d stop and say hi.”

Rainstream smiled wide, letting out a tiny snort of amusement. “Thanks,” she said, looking up at the sky. “Not many ponies really notice the sky unless it’s raining or too sunny . It means a lot to know somepony appreciates my artwork.” She stopped directly under her cloud home, the source of the rain, and spread her wings wide. Arching her back, Rainstream tilted her head back and stared straight up, smiling into the rain through closed eyes, letting the drops roll off her sleek coat.

Ink Blot nearly gasped aloud. She enjoyed the sunrise surprises that her pegasus friend often made possible, but this was a different side of Rainstream’s art entirely, which had been lost on Ink Blot before. It was like she’d been completely blind to her friend’s art until this moment, which gave her an idea.

“Say, Rain?” Ink Blot started, rubbing one hoof over the other.

“Mm?” Rain looked up—well, down, actually—and blinked away the drop in her eyes.

“Well, I um… I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind posing for a painting. I’ve been looking for some new inspiration lately and with the way you love the rain so much, I just thought… maybe...”

Rainstream inhaled deeply, smiling wide “Oh, a painting,” she cooed. “My very own painting. I would love that, Ink, you have no idea. I can only create so much with the clouds, limited to the light patterns provided by the sun, and a few rainbows, but you... With your brushes, you can create incredible displays of color, and so life-like too.”

Ink Blot could swear there was steam visibly rising from the Rainstream’s face as she stared off into space with wide, glistening eyes. Way to flatter a girl.

“Great,” she replied, beaming. Let me just get my—Hey!”

She turned back toward the bank where she’d left her saddlebags, only to find Peewee perched on them. He plucked one brush from their depths, and held it up to the light. Ink Blot groaned. Of all the brushes he could have nabbed, it had to be that one.

It was a one of a kind, Princess Luna themed brush that miss Rarity had bought for her last year on her birthday—and worth a fortune. It was also one of her most treasured possessions, as it was said to have special properties. She hadn’t figured out what they were yet, but she always kept it with her. And that pesky bird was stealing it.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Peewee instantly took to the air after Ink Blot’s shout, who charged after him.

“You come back here with that! That’s mine!”

Author's Notes:

I ended up writing this after I decided to add in Rainstream (my OC) but never published it because, well... I forgot it existed, what with trying to finish the story and with rewriting Pinkie's Lament (yeah, that's getting a rehash). Also there's some edits to the chase scene for "A Batch of Brew" which were also written a long time ago but never implemented. Apologies for the long wait, but I assure you this thing isn't dead.

A Batch of Brew

The world around her melted into a blur as anger lent speed to Ink Blot’s hooves. Trees raced by, followed by houses and buildings as they headed into town. Silently blessing her keen eyes and earth pony roots, Ink Blot darted in between various townsponies she might otherwise have run headlong into with surprising agility, then continued on past town hall, and over the bridge on the far side.

The landscape sloped up a bit as they neared the old Sweet Apple Acres ranch. As she passed by a particular length of fence, Ink Blot slowed to a trot. There, lacquered and polished to look as fresh as if it had been done yesterday, was a painting she’d made for the Apple family reunion.

She’d completely forgotten about it. It depicted the whole Apple Family—Ink Blot and her mother included—though in Ink Blot’s unique style. She’d painted her mother and herself sharing a plate of apple fritters, dancing in a balloon shaped inflatable pool. Next to the pool, Apple Bloom was aiming an apple cannon at her sister, who was focused on holding up an apple shaped piñata.

Ink Blot stopped to admire it. The colors were bright, and accented each other to create a warm effect. A tear escaped her eyes as she remembered how she and her mother used to get along so smoothly. Where and when had they drifted apart?

Ink Blot’s thoughts were interrupted by a screech from Peewee as he swooped between her and the painting. Oh, right. She’d completely forgotten. He hung there in the air for a few moments, as though waiting for her to give chase again. Ugh, that darn bird just could not stop tormenting her could he?

The chase continued, but now led into the Everfree. As she ran through the edge of the trees, Ink Blot momentarily recalled what her mother had said earlier that morning. Sorry, mom. Not happening. She felt a grim satisfaction that defying her mother was somewhat justified by Peewee’s theft of her brush, but pushed it aside as she now had to focus on not running into trees, as well as catching that darned bird.

Now that Peewee had to maneuver and avoid branches, Ink Blot had the advantage. She’d run through here many times during various escapades, and her hooves knew the terrain well, provided her eyes could keep up. They usually could, and this was no exception.

Rocks, logs and fallen tree limbs shot by underhoof—and occasionally overhead—in an overall green blur as Ink Blot honed in on the fleeing scarlet tail. Her ears were bent fully back and her jaw set as she raced on. The phoenix took a moment to stare back under its belly at its pursuer, looseing a trilling cry that sounded somewhat like a laugh. With a few flaps of its wings, it flew higher, climbing up above the treeline, out of sight.

“Huh?”

Ink Blot dug in her hooves and skidded to a halt, bringing the trees back into focus. Damn that bird. Now that she was in the woods, there was no way she could see where he’d gone. She’d just have to make her way back to town and hope Spike could get her brush back.

~ ~ ~

The filly sighed in defeat and turned back the way she’d come. The trees had grown thick, and the underbrush was mostly strangled by the brambles that seemed to run everywhere. The tree canopy was so tightly knit that even with the sun at its highest, it felt like twilight down at the forest floor.

“Got it! Who-oah!”

Ink Blot whipped her head around and stared upward at the sound of Rainstream’s voice from above the treeline. Had she come to help? Ink Blot took off in the direction of the sound.

“Oof!” Forgetting to watch where her hooves were going, Ink Blot tripped over a mess of brambles and fell down a short embankment, landing face first in some sort of viney blue plant.

Shaking the stars out of her eyes, as well as a few blue leaves, she picked herself up off the ground and looked around to find the cause of her loss of footing. Brambles! No, not quite. They resembled brambles, but the leaves betrayed their true nature. Poison joke. Great. Now she’d end up with leaves as a mane or something for the next week or so.

“Look out below!”

Ink Blot looked up to see her friend crashing through the tree canopy in a fully vertical dive. Just beneath her was a small glittery object, her hooves stretched toward it. The brush! Demonstrating her expert flying skills, Rainstream snatched the brush a few meters off the ground and immediately snapped open her wings, landing gracefully in the blue leaves next to Ink Blot.

“Got it!” Rainstream grinned triumphantly and held up her prize. “Silly bird couldn’t out fly me. Here you go.” She held out the little treasure to Ink Blot, her grin relaxing to a fond smile.

“Oh, thanks so much, Rain,” Ink Blot replied, grabbing the brush and hugging it to her chest. “I thought I’d never get it back.”

Rainstream laughed. “Well, just get that painting done and we’ll call it even, okay?” She flapped her wings and took off, preparing to leave..

“Deal,” Ink Blot replied, smiling. “Although, you should probably come with me to Zecora’s for some poison joke cure before you head off.”

Rainstream stopped and turned around. “Poison whatnow?”

“Ink Blot rolled her eyes. “Blue leaves? The stuff we’re covered in? You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of Poison Joke?” She raised an eyebrow.

Rainstream simply shook her head and shrugged slightly. “We don’t have it where I’m from. Is it dangerous?” She looked herself over as though searching for some sort of marking.

“Nah, it just causes some silly effects,” Ink Blot replied shaking her head. “But I’d rather not flop around for a week if I can help it. It’s best to get it washed off with a special tonic bath.”

Rainstream sucked on her lower lip and narrowed her eyebrows. After a moment, she shook her head, and flew backwards a bit. “M-mm. Sorry, Ink, but I don’t know this Zecora yet. I think I’ll just sleep it off and deal with it for now.” She yawned. “I’m getting tired anyway. I don’t think I slept much last night. See you later.” She turned and disappeared through the canopy.

“Whatever,” Ink Blot muttered, sulking off in the direction she knew the old zebra’s hut to be.
“She’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

~ ~ ~

The way back toward the forest path was a bit slow going due to the dim light, but Ink Blot eventually managed to pick her way out of the brambles and into a more open undergrowth. Little pink ferns and red mushrooms littered the ground—all sorts of odd stuff grew out here.

She stooped to prod one of the little mushrooms, noticing the intricate pattern of spots peppered across its head. It wiggled a bit, and Ink Blot drew back. Then it spouted some red mist, and turned blue. Obviously the mist was to deter anything trying to harm the fungus. If she hadn’t drawn back, Ink Blot imagined the mist may have had a painful effect. Instead it drifted harmlessly to the ground and disappeared.

Things out here weren’t exactly dangerous, the way her mother kept saying they were. Just… odd. If one kept a sharp eye out, it wasn’t really so bad.

“Hey there, Ink Blot.”

“Gyah!” Ink Blot jumped up and spun around in the air, to find Apple Bloom standing behind her. “Wow, you’re quiet,” she said, trying to suppress her rapid breathing.

“Sorry,” The farmer replied, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wandering by and happened to notice you prodding that fire mushroom. What brings you way out here?”

“Oh, that.” Ink Blot rolled her eyes. “Spike’s dumb bird stole this brush, so I had to chase him down and get it back.” She pulled out the brush for demonstration, then tucked it away again. Apple Bloom nodded in recognition of the brush, but kept listening. “I chased him way out by the old barn, and nearly caught up to him when we ran into the woods, but he cheated and flew up above the trees.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes grew wide. “The old barn?.“Which old barn?”

Ink Blot shook a hoof dismissively “Just the one from the reunion a few years ago. When I painted that mural of everypony on the fence?” Apple Bloom relaxed a bit, nodding, so Ink Blot went on.

“He might’ve gotten away too if Rain hadn’t helped me out.” She kicked at the ground, disappointed that she’d needed help to chase the phoenix down.

Apple Bloom blinked. “The weather pony?” She looked around, mostly gazing up. “I don’t see her, where’d she go?”

Ink Blot shrugged. “We fell in some poison joke, but she didn’t want to see Zecora about it. She’s kinda shy around ponies she doesn’t know. She’ll probably figure it out by tomorrow and come ask for help anyway.” She trotted around Apple Bloom and off in the direction the farmer had come from.

“Poison joke? Out here?”

She sounded concerned. Ink Blot stopped and turned around. Apple Bloom looked as though she’d seen a ghost. Her face was white and her eyes stared blankly into the space in front of her.

Ink Blot frowned. “Yeah. It’s just poison joke. It’s pretty common out here in the Everfree. Nothing worth worrying about.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip for a moment, “Yeah, I guess. We should get you to Zecora’s. It’s just up ahead.”

~ ~ ~

It took over an hour to reach the hut—they must have been farther out than Ink Blot realized—and Apple Bloom kept looking back over her shoulder every few minutes. What was she so worried about? It wasn’t like something had followed them. Ink Blot pricked her ears, but couldn’t hear anything behind them.

Ink Blot hadn’t actually been to the old zebra’s hut before. She’d just heard about it from her mom. It was supposed to be super spooky looking, to scare away bad spirits, but the herbalist herself was supposed to actually be quite friendly.

The hut itself was only a bit scary, but then again, Ink Blot’s mother had always scared easily. It did look somewhat like a face though, but Ink Blot was more impressed that the hut was actually carved out of a very old tree, and blended very naturally with its surroundings.

They walked around to the other side and Apple Bloom pushed open the door. “Come on, Ink. Let’s get you fixed up.”

The room appeared larger on the inside than the outside and was filled with odd assortments of strange and foreign artwork hanging from the walls. There was a cauldron over a fire in the middle of the room, which put out an odd stench. Ink Blot wrinkled her nose at it.

An old zebra whom Ink Blot assumed to be Zecora was mixing some spices on a nearby table, pausing every few moments to scribble some notes on a piece of parchment next to them. On her flank was a dark swirl pattern—her cutie mark. It somewhat resembled a sun, but might have been a flower. She put down what she was doing upon their arrival and turned to greet them.

“Welcome, my friends. What brings you back here? Has something foul befallen you, my dear?” She regarded Ink Blot with the last line. Ink Blot stared back, just now noticing the intricate nature of the stripes upon the old zebra’s face. They had seemed so simple before, but in the dancing light of the fire beneath the cauldron, they came alive. Apple Bloom must have grown impatient in her silence, because she spoke up instead.

“She found a patch of poison joke, back there.” Apple Bloom pointed back in the direction she’d found Ink Blot. “I’d rather not take chances again. Mind whipping us up a special batch?”

The old Zebra followed her hoof for a moment, eyebrows drawn tight in a puzzled expression. Then her eyes snapped wide in sudden realization. She took a step backward, jaw dropping open. Then she calmed and steadied herself, and turned to look at Ink Blot, “A batch of brew, I will create, to save you from a silly fate, but be more careful where you fall,” Zecora stopped, and looked right into Ink Blot’s eyes as she continued. “Some jokes do not amuse at all.”

Ink Blot quivered under her intense gaze, and took a step behind Apple Bloom’s hoof. The old zebra could truly be intimidating when she wanted to.

~ ~ ~

Zecora spent the better part of an hour adding various spices to the cauldron. Apple Bloom kept asking Zecora if she was certain about adding—or sometimes not adding—a particular herb. The Zebra seemed confident in what she was doing, although her coat glistened a bit more than usual since she’d begun brewing whatever cure was intended for Ink Blot.

“What’s all the fuss?” Ink Blot asked, causing Apple Bloom and Zecora to look up from their work. “It’s just poison joke, right? My mom said she ran into it back when Miss Twilight first came to Ponyville. Isn’t it harmless?”

Apple Bloom and Zecora exchanged pained looks, then Apple Bloom tightly formed a smile and stepped forward.

“Well, it is, but the plant’s changed a bit over the years, so Twilight and I have been helping Zecora keep the formula updated. Twilight just dropped this one off earlier, so it’s a new recipe.” She pointed to the parchment on the table, then quickly turned back to what she was doing. “It’s almost done, too. Just a few more ingredients.”

She began measuring out a few more herbs, while Zecora extinguished the fire.

“And now my dear, it is time for you to have a bath of curing brew,” Zecora mused, tapping the rim of the cauldron.

No bath this time, just straight poison joke cure? Was it some sort of super poison joke or something? Ink Blot raised an eyebrow, but Apple Bloom gave her a nudge.

“You really should,” she said, dropping the last few items into the pot.

With the fire put out, Ink Blot wouldn’t cook, but it still seemed like an awful lot of fuss over something so small. Well, if Apple Bloom trusted her, perhaps Ink Blot should to. Reluctantly, she obliged hopping up onto the rim of the cauldron and balancing lightly on the edge.

The brew was thick and bubbly, and gave off a foul smell. It was pale green in color—and mostly translucent—but despite the smell, seemed rather inviting. She allowed herself to slide into it and was surprised by the sensation. It was rather nice; the hot liquid soaked into her coat and felt soothing against her skin. Apple Bloom and Zecora left as soon as she climbed in, giving her a bit of privacy while she soaked. She relaxed and let her head dip beneath the surface, blowing bubbles in the thick soup.

Well, she’d certainly have a story to tell dad when she got home. Not that he was going to find out about this. After a while, it became cold enough that Ink Blot had to climb out. The cure had become a sickly, dark swamp green, and clung to her coat like mud.

“Yuck!”

She shook most of it off, but would have to have a proper bath to wash off the rest of it. Ink Blot took a step outside and looked around. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was in the dim light, but any light at all meant that it wasn’t getting dark yet. Good. She still had some of her day left. Apple Bloom and Zecora still hadn’t returned, but Ink Blot didn’t need them. She made a mental note to thank Zecora for the curing bath later—strange as it had been—and headed off down the path toward Ponyville.

She passed a patch or two of poison joke along the way, but was careful to avoid it this time. It was astounding that she’d managed to fall into it at all without knowing, seeing how bright the leaves were. They were such a rich hue that they nearly glowed in the dim light filtering through the treetops. A familiar urge struck her, and she put on a burst of speed only an earth pony could produce—straight home to her painting supplies.

~ ~ ~

As she came speeding out of the trees on the edge of the Everfree, Ink Blot noticed her chase had taken her far out past town. She emerged onto a hill that overlooked the town, and beyond it, near the horizon, was another hill overlooking the town, atop which sat Pink Apple Manor. She stopped for a moment to admire the view, then remembered her quest—and her filth—and resumed the race home.

She made a wide arc around town, not wanting anypony to see her covered in thick mud like this. Not that they’d notice anyway, not at this speed. Hills and trees traced by streams raced by for about ten minutes, until the house finally came into view.

“Hey there, Ink Blot. Watcha doing?”

As her mother’s voice came suddenly out of nowhere, Ink Blot nearly tripped over her own hooves. She turned to see her mother—the only pony who could match her for speed—running along side her effortlessly as though they were simply standing next to each other. The pair of them skidded to a halt just outside their front gate, which of course had to be painted bubblegum pink with tiny party balloons, cupcakes, and confetti plastered everywhere. It was like one of her mother’s parties had puked on it, and no one had bothered to clean up the mess.

“MO-OM!” Ink Blot whined. “Will you cut that out?”

Her mother responded by tackle-hugging her to the ground.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe. I was so worried.” Her mother’s thick pink curls drew back to reveal her teary but smiling face. Ink Blot sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Mom, I was only gone for a few hours. Do we have to do this every time I leave the house?”

Her mother stood up off of her, but continued her onslaught of affection by hugging Ink Blot tightly again.

“Oh, but you’re my favorite little me, and I get worried about you.” She mercifully let Ink Blot go and simply stared at her with glossy eyes. “After I finished the cupcakes the Cakes ordered, I headed into town. Applejack mentioned she’d seen you by the old barn, and I know it’s old and rotting so I ran to see if you were okay but you weren’t there, so I looked all over Ponyville for you, and I even asked Miss Cheerilee where you might be, but she didn’t know. Then I checked all your favorite murals, and asked Fluttershy if you’d gone by the cottage. Then I saw you running back here so I came to see if you were alright, and here you are. Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She hugged Ink Blot again, this time squeezing her very tightly. She sniffed back a few tears, then looked Ink Blot over thoroughly, who rolled her eyes again.

“And you’re all covered in this icky muck. What were you doing? Trying to play with Fluttershy’s pigs?”

Ink Blot shook herself, then headed off into the house. “I fell in some poison joke, then—”

“Poison Joke?!” Her mother stood straight up, staring wide eyed into blank space for a moment. “Ooh, let’s get you into a bath right away. I keep a poison joke remedy ready in the bath room for just such an emergency.” She began swiftly pushing Ink Blot toward the house, who dug in her hooves, pushing up piles of dirt and leaving long tracks behind.

“MOM! I’m fine! I found Zecora and she had me take this weird bath. That’s why I’m covered in muck!” Despite her efforts, Ink Blot was offering little resistance to her mother’s pushing—the muck in question, despite the blow dry it should have received by her rush home, was still slick like grease on her pink coat.

“Well, we should still get you a bath to wash all that stuff off,” her mother continued, not even straining to speak. “Come on, I’m sure Gummi would love to join you.”

~ ~ ~

As much as she hated having her mother fuss over her like this, Ink Blot did want a bath, and if Pinkamena Pie wasn’t the best pony in equestria at preparing a soothing bubble bath next to the spa twins, her pet alligator, Gummi, certainly was.

Being the best friend and companion of the mare of the house, Gummi had taken it upon himself to take care of the household, and had already prepared a steamy bubbly bath when Ink Blot and her mother walked in. How he knew she’d wanted a bath was a mystery to Ink Blot, but her mother had a rather odd gift of foresight, and must have arranged the bath before she’d come looking for her.

Being that it was more of a small, shallow swimming pool than a bathtub, there was plenty of room for Gummi—even with his large size—to join them. He wasn’t a baby anymore; alligators grew slower than ponies, but they still grew up in a small matter of years, unlike dragons, who could remain baby sized for the entire life of a pony. He slid into the pool and disappeared beneath the surface.

The sight of the bath itself was too much to resist, and Ink Blot instantly dropped onto her forehooves, then bounded forward. Her mother matched her step, and the two of them dove into the pool in near perfect unison. A loud “Whee!” echoed around the room as they flew through the air. Popping up amidst a sea of bubbles, Ink Blot found the side and relaxed against the smooth wall of the overlarge tub and let the steaming water soak in.

This was probably the only time when it was difficult to tell her and her mother apart. In fact, if not for Ink Blot’s green eyes, and shorter mane, it would be impossible. Ink Blot’s mane came to the water’s surface while her head was above the water, but her mother’s usually curly mane straightened out in the hot, steamy water, revealing just how long it truly was, and creating a river of pink in the white bubbles that surrounded it.

It reminded Ink blot of a drawing she’d made before she learned how to paint. It had been of herself, rolling in a field of hot pink grass, with trees of a much lighter shade growing everywhere. From their tops flowed silky strands of a darker pink, and the sky was made up of two very blue eyes—Her mother’s eyes.

The memory nearly made Ink Blot cry, but she was broken from her reverie by Gummi, who had snuck up on her under the water and now lifted her up on his snout, so that she appeared to be sitting directly on the surface.

“Looks like Gummi wants to play, hee hee!”

Her mother began moving toward them through the water, splashing playfully along the way. Using his tail, Gummi propelled himself and Ink Blot through the water, churning it up and leaving a distinct wake behind them.

It was a short lived bliss, but it was one of the rare times when Ink Blot’s mother was not completely unbearable. Quickly growing bored with just splashing around, Ink Blot escaped to the small, more actual bathtub-like section of the “tub” to keep from revealing how close to tears she was. Her mother was having too much fun splashing to notice.

This secondary part was actually used for cleaning, and was closed off from the main part of the tub by a low, underwater wall. It even had waterjets and vents for washing away dirt and filth so it didn’t enter the main pool. And the main part really should classify as a shallow pool, being that it was large enough to swim around in, but it was all in the washroom, and it was all heated, so it was all called the “bath tub”.

Ink Blot relaxed into the cleaning tub and began to scrub herself down, cleaning off every last bit of that mucky slop Zecora had made her soak in.When she was finished, she climbed out, shook herself off, and dove back into the main soaking area. Gummi came up and gave her face a lick.

“Haha, Gummi, stop! that tickles!” she laughed.

A Silly Fate

At last her bath was over and she ran up to her room. She raced up the stairs, threw open the door and burst into the vast round cathedral that made up her room. It wasn’t really a full cathedral; she had a much larger room than most fillies her age, given that this was a very expensive house, but it was still just a bedroom. She had wanted a large, round room with a high window, and a skylight, like Twilight’s observatory at the library, and her mother was too happy to oblige. She seemed to think that if she bought enough stuff for Ink Blot, the filly would like her. Sorry, mom, you’re just going to have to tone down the crazy if you want to hang out.
Well, at least the skylight came in handy at times like this; a bright orange sunbeam shone through it onto the far wall, making it shine like fire.

Crossing the large blue carpet in the center, she reached her paint closet. She pulled out several different buckets. Scarlet, maroon, crimson, robin’s egg blue, royal blue, sky blue, sea green, green, leaf green, dandelion, gold, bright yellow, and even a vivid orange. She laid them out in a wide arc around her, and examined the walls. There were no places left to paint. She’d asked for a large round room with a lot of wall space, so that she wouldn’t run out of room, but she had underestimated her own ability to create.

The walls were a rainbow of colors, showing several high moments in her life, from the time she got her cutie mark to the outing at Sweet Apple Acres, to the ride Gummi had given her down the river that ran through town. There was nothing here that she didn’t want to keep. As she scratched her head for a few minutes, she got an idea. The old barn! The sun was still high in the sky, so she had plenty of time. Perfect. Grabbing up as many paint buckets as she could—three in this case—she ran downstairs to load the paint cart she used for transporting her painting supplies.

It had a wide, flat shelf on the bottom for paint buckets, with a lip around the edge so they wouldn’t slide out, and straps to keep them from jostling around.The top had an assortment of slots for brushes to be held in, and a basin which could be filled with water for cleaning the brushes with. The whole thing was shorter than Ink Blot, and wider as well, but raised high enough off the ground that she could navigate most terrain with it, and the low center of gravity meant it wouldn’t tip easily.

“Going somewhere, Ink?” came the calm deep voice of her father. She spun around on the spot, dropping the last few paint buckets in her mouth. The look on his face told her everything. He wasn’t scolding her, simply curious.

“Oh, um, yeah, I was heading out to paint something in town. I’ve got a few more colors though. Could you help?”

“Eeyup.” Came his short reply. He nodded in time with it, and followed her back upstairs to her room.

“Your mother means well, you know. You should give her a chance.”

Ink Blot stopped mid-step. Now? She rolled her eyes and continued walking. “But she’s so exhausting, Dad. It’s like she never leaves her job. Everything’s a party all the time. I hate it.” Her hooves hit the wooden stairs a little harder than normal.

He continued next to her, not missing a beat. “She just communicates differently than you or I do. You and your mother might not always see eye to eye, but she does care about you.”

He’d grabbed a sling on his way up, and they began loading it with all the colors she’d need, plus a full set of brushes.

“She works hard, and sometimes forgets where she is when she’s excited.” He smiled, then gazed down at Ink Blot fondly. “But she also likes someone quiet who listens a lot, when she’s not working. Those kind of ponies are hard to come by.” He reached out a hoof and pulled Ink Blot closer to him, pressing her against his side. “She might forget to show it, but you’re very special to her, Ink.”

It wasn’t fair. She could never manage to argue with or be angry at her father. Mom just didn’t get it, but he did, and when he justified her crazy antics, it was like she was easy to understand, for just that brief moment. She shed a single tear into his thick coat, then smiled up at him.

“I love you, dad.”

He smiled back, and hugged her tightly. “I know.” The hug lasted a few moments, then they broke apart, revived. “I believe you were headed somewhere?”

“Yeah. Thanks, dad.”

~ ~ ~

When they got downstairs, he helped Ink Blot load up the cart with her paint buckets and brushes.

“Be home by dark,” He said as she headed off. At least somepony trusted her enough to get home at a decent hour. She never had to try to hide anything from her father, because he never pried, and she always told him when she needed something. Often times she didn’t even need to ask, either—he just knew. The two of them connected on a level that her mother would probably never understand.

It didn’t take her long to reach the abandoned barn. The only trouble was the gate. It was old and rotted, and while it was easy enough to kick down, the cart wouldn’t travel over it easily. She had to fiddle with the rusty latch for quite some time before she got it open, and at last was able to drag it until it unblocked the path.

Excitement welled up in her chest and she found herself accelerating up the path and across the grass as her hooves propelled her with eager swiftness toward the barn. The cart barreled along behind her, pulled by the harness she’d had crafted by Apple Bloom. It wasn’t very extravagant, but it fit her well, and allowed her to pull the cart quite easily.

It was quite obvious when she got closer, why the barn was no longer used. The roof was on the verge of collapse in several places and the paint was peeling just about everywhere. The once red barn had aged to a sickly green color. The perfect contrast to what her bright new creation would be. The only question seemed to be why it was abandoned, rather than torn down. The ground was clearly still fertile, judging by the flowers that grew in the grass surrounding it.

She trotted slowly around to the side of the barn. The solid wall provided the largest available canvas, and would be very smooth compared to the uneven surface of the doors. There was an old wooden ladder lying on the ground next to the wall, and what paint hadn’t peeled here only covered part of the wall, as if somepony had tried to fix up the barn, and abandoned the job halfway through.

Ink Blot shook her head, and picked up a can of paint. It was the only spot on the wall that paint would stick to, after all. She grabbed a can of paint and stood the ladder up against the wall. Up close, she could see the barn had actually been repainted several times, since the paint had cracked. It was all cracked with splits and chips everywhere. She’d have to try to scrape off most of the old paint before she could put more up, but for now, this spot was good enough.

Ink Blot popped open the crimson bucket and dipped a large industrial brush into it. Thanks for these at least, Mom. She jumped back up on the ladder and took her first slice at her new mural. She recalled the events of the past few hours and the emotions and images that fueled them.

Quick, sharp zigzags of red, scratched out the blurred form of a phoenix. Ink Blot’s hoof shook as she stabbed at the wall with her brush. Thoughts and emotion poured onto the wall, and she realized it was time for the next color; crimson was just the first, and she would need gold next. Gold, yellow, dandelion, orange, scarlet. Dense, harsh strokes scraped along the wall, growing into the brush which had been stolen.

Colors flew to the wall beneath her hooves, and at last she found herself reaching for the greens and blues which would make up the forest. Every painting was like this—a euphoria of freedom. The liberation as she let her mind and emotions go free. Nothing could touch her here; this was her private escape from the world that nopony could share, only glimpse at through its effects—her paintings.

Slow, precise, purposeful lines, grew into a wall of trees, shielding the fleeing bird from her pursuer. And at last, as Ink Blot reached her own part in the story she was painting, her brushstrokes became light, and the brush hung loosely from her hoof as she lazily dabbed out a pink blot beneath the trees.

Repositioning the ladder as she had done several times throughout this endeavor, Ink Blot now noticed something beneath the paint that was not wood. She climbed up to get a closer look. It couldn’t be paint—it was far too smooth for that—but it was also not anything that would normally have been placed on a barn wall, or painted over for that matter. It had a grainy look to it, like hair, but when she touched it, it was perfectly smooth and solid. Whatever it was, the paint surrounding it would need to be removed for a proper inspection. She hopped back down to grab a scraper. She’d need to remove the old chipped paint anyway, and she wanted to find out what strange object had been hidden behind layers of old paint.

Scraping paint off of wood that it had bonded to was hard, but harder still if one wanted to preserve what was between the paint and the wood. Fortunately, the paint was old, and if Ink Blot was clever enough with the scraper, she could fit the scraper behind a lifted corner of paint and remove whole sections of it without damaging the odd material beneath. Nonetheless, it was a slow and painstaking process. It took over an hour for Ink Blot to remove a section the size of herself, and at last she got an idea of what it was that was beneath the paint.

Plastered before her against the barn, was… a leg. A pony’s foreleg. Held up as though one were reared back on their hind legs, and probably belonging to a full grown stallion at that. She followed it over to where the head ought to be, and immediately leapt back. There was an eye there, and it was looking directly at her.

The eye was thrown wide, and stared down at her as though she were some great foe it must defeat. Ink Blot relaxed, letting out the breath she’d been holding. It must be a mural that had been placed there long ago—with incredible skill. It probably depicted a stallion in battle, defending the princess from a changeling horde.

She ran up to scrape more paint off so she could admire it better, then froze. The eye was still looking at her. This wasn’t the usual illusion that came from perspective drawing, where an image appeared to look directly at the viewer no matter what viewing angle they took. No, the eye had turned, and followed her as she moved toward the ladder.

Blood froze in her veins, and Ink Blot found herself struggling to breathe. Why was she so afraid? Ink Blot was familiar with most creatures from the Everfree Forest. She’d stared down a timberwolf and just laughed, running it in circles until it got so dizzy it fell apart. Manticores? No problem. They were big and slow, and easily avoided. Not much scared her, but this?

She managed a step closer, and the eye seemed to burn with intensity as it glared down at her. Fear was not usually a familiar emotion, but she felt it now. her hooves shook and shivers raced throughout her whole body as Ink Blot tried to recall her mother’s favorite mantra from her childhood. Giggle at the ghostie. Giggle at the ghostie.

“Giggle at the ghostie, giggle at the ghostie.” Ink Blot found herself saying it out loud as tears welled up in her eyes, and she faced down her new fear, willing herself to laugh. What came out would have sounded more like a strangled wail from a filly, if Ink Blot had been paying any attention to it at all. Snatching up her brush, she ran forward and began blindly slapping paint back over the areas of the stallion she’d uncovered. Whatever this thing was, there must clearly have been a good reason why it was covered up. Ink Blot forced herself into the happiest place she knew, her painter’s trance, and began throwing paint all over the wall through forced—strangled—laughter.

When at last she stopped crying, it had grown dark. The nightmare had gone, and she was tired. Her mother was probably worried, and her father would be disappointed. No longer her usual shade of bright pink, Ink Blot now donned the full color palette of paint she’d brought with her. The paint clung at her fur in clumps and felt icky and uncomfortable against her skin. Not to mention her mane. It would need a thorough washing immediately.

But before she could head home, Ink Blot would need to gather up her supplies. In her panic, many of them had been thrown haphazardly about, and she would have to search for them. Some buckets had spilled and lost nearly the entirety of their contents. Her mother would surely be happy to replace those, but it was still an awful waste of good paint. Not to mention it left a lot of thick, sticky puddles all over the ground, that Ink Blot couldn’t help stepping in as she searched for a brush she’d dropped. Eventually she found it, and returned it to the cart. Clumsily gathering up her now half empty buckets of paint, Ink Blot began the slow trek home.

~ ~ ~

She had expected the crying hug from her mother. As she approached the house, she was flung to the ground under the weight of her mother, who wasted no time in letting her know exactly how worried she’d been when Ink Blot had not returned with the setting of the sun. Irritating though it was, Ink Blot was too exhausted and shaken to protest—though that didn’t stop her from trying—and lay trapped beneath her mother’s embrace.

She had expected her father to be angry. Needless to say, he was not happy about her late arrival, but what she found in his face was not anger. Instead, disappointment. She had made a promise, and broken it. Not a Pinkie promise, but it didn’t matter between them; he had always trusted her, and she had let him down. Ink Blot’s hooves fell heavily as she trudged down the stairs to the bath room, again.

Her mother did not join her this time, nor did Gummi. He set her bath, then left to go take care of her paint cart, which had been left by the front gate. Ink Blot was too exhausted to think, and simply sank into the bath, allowing it to soak into her coat and the skin underneath.

She was grounded. She had to be. Her father was rarely cross with her, but why would he forgive her for breaking their promise? It wasn’t a Pinkie promise, but it may as well have been for how rotten she felt. She didn’t sit long in the bath. Instead she scrubbed the paint out of her hair and toweled the rest off when she climbed out. It would ruin the towel, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to go to bed without supper like she deserved.

Ink Blot climbed the stairs slowly, one at a time. Nopony stopped her as she passed by the dining hall, though Gummi gave her a knowing look from the table. He would tell her mother, in his own special way. He always did, and he had such a way with words too, for one who could not actually talk. That alligator had saved her flank with her parents more times than she could count. She nodded a thanks to him and continued up the stairs, half dragging herself by the time she got to her room, and flopped onto her bed, falling instantly asleep.

She was standing before the wall. The grass around her, the flowers, the wind, the sun—all gone. Just the big eye staring down into her soul, burning her out from the inside. The red paint on the barn began to soften, then flowed, slowly at first, but building up in thickness. It bubbled and oozed right out of the wood—a deep, dark red, like blood, pouring down over her. She could feel it seeping into her skin, consuming her being. A low wail rose up in her throat as she dislodged herself from it, turning to flee into the forest. Red hoof prints trailed behind her as she ran, following her everywhere.

A bramble caught on her fore hoof as she burst into the brush, and she went tumbling, head over hooves, several times. She sat up in a sea of blue vines, creeping closer to her, trying to tangle her up in them. She tried to move away, but they grabbed at her hooves and dragged her back into their center. They wrapped around her countless times, constricting her movements and squeezing her tight until she felt as though she would pop. Her skin broke and liquefied, sloughing off and revealing her bones underneath, which also quickly melted beneath the strangling vines. Before long she was a puddling mass on the ground, indistinguishable from the mud.

“Little one.” A soft voice called out to her from very far away, but it was too late; she was gone.

A Careless Fall

An earsplitting shriek broke the silence of the still morning air, mingling with the crow of the rooster to make an eerie sound. A small pink filly had awoken, drenched in sweat, from the most terrifying nightmare she had ever experienced. The house of Big Macintosh Apple and Pinkamena Pie-Apple now roused a bit more hastily than it normally would have.

The first to arrive in their daughter’s room was her mother, for not only was she the fastest pony over land in Ponyville, but what force could part a loving mother from her child when that child was in danger, or afraid? The door flung itself open to allow a pink blur to pass through, which then hugged her daughter very tightly, rocking her back and forth slowly and gently. For the first time in a long time, the little filly welcomed her mother’s embrace, and cried deep sobs into her shoulder.

Soon after came her father, moving quickly but remaining calm as he always did. He hurried up and knelt next to his wife and daughter, extending a hoof to rest on his daughter’s shoulder—silently letting her know he was there. The filly let out a few short breaths, still clinging tightly to her mother, but her breathing now steadily slowed.

Last on the scene was of course, the ever-watchful alligator, Gummi. Sliding in through the door, he curled his vast length around all of them—a great shield from any new attacks, not that any new threat would come. It had only been a nightmare after all. The filly would feel better soon, but for now, his presence would help her feel safe.

~ ~

It had been only a dream. Ink Blot cried choking sobs into her mother’s chest, trying with every effort to laugh at the nightmare she’d just had. It was cruel irony that crying and laughter could sound so similar. Ink Blot smiled and managed a chuckle, then opened her eyes.

The nightmare was gone. She was lying in her mother’s hooves, with her father right beside, and Gummi. Gummi was such a silly name for something like an alligator. Ink Blot laughed, heartily and out loud this time. Her mother should be proud.

“Mom,” she began, smiling wide through drying tears.

“What is it, Inky pie?” her mother replied, her face a mirror image of Ink Blot’s.

“Gummi has a really silly name,” She laughed.

Everypony in the room joined in the laughter now, even Gummi, a deep rumble sounding from somewhere deep in his lungs.

~ ~ ~

Breakfast went as it would have on any other morning, though perhaps a bit earlier than usual. Ink Blot had a heaping plate of pancakes, piled high with maple syrup. If there was one thing the Apples did right, it was cook food. The pancakes were so fluffy, filling up her entire mouth with their rich flavor—apple, of course. What Apple family member in their right mind would cook pancakes without apples in them? There was a cupcake placed next to Ink Blot’s plate as well, compliments of her mother. She gobbled it up gratefully, enjoying the sweet sugary taste.

Then the doorbell rang. It wasn’t really a bell; more of an imitation of a party noisemaking horn, but what else would be expected at the house of Pinkamena Pie-Apple, lover of anything fun or funny, and party planner for nearly all of Ponyville? Nopony partied like Ink Blot’s mother could when she was younger, or so Ink Blot had been told. It was strange to hear her mother describe these events as though they were in her past, but if she truly had mellowed out since then, Ink Blot didn’t want to think about how irritating her mother must have been in her prime.

“I’ve got it.”

Ink Blot answered the door to Apple Bloom, who looked as awake as if it were the middle of the day, and not sunrise. Leave it to a true member of the Apple family to appear wide awake even before the sun came up. A little too awake. Her eyes were wide open as though she hadn’t actually slept—or perhaps couldn’t.

“Hey there, Ink. Feeling okay?” Her aunt asked, smiling slightly.

“Yep, I’m fine. I remembered to giggle at the ghosties,” Ink Blot answered, giggling a bit. She stood up, pressing her chest out proudly. Apple Bloom smiled fondly, then continued on.

“Terrific. Sorry I disappeared yesterday. Zecora and I needed to check on something important...” She trailed off, looking over her shoulder at something distant, then turned back to Ink Blot. “Say, Ink, um, did you sleep okay last night?” She asked, tilting her head a bit. The wide eyed look she held now began to look a bit creepy.

Ink Blot’s eyes also widened for a moment. “Uh, yeah. Why? Is my mane tangled?” Ink Blot quickly began running her hooves through her mane to straighten it out.

Apple Bloom frowned, though her eyes remained wide open. “Uh, no. I just thought uh,‘yknow, better check, right? Wanted to make sure you weren’t havin’ any funny side effects from that poison joke and all that, hehehe.” She scratched the back of her head with her hoof, and pulled her lips back into a tight, wide grin.

Something was off. Poison joke wasn’t a dangerous plant, and Apple Bloom wasn’t the type of pony to worry about something needlessly. Then there was the strange way Zecora had warned her about avoiding poison joke in the future. ’What are you hiding?’There was definitely something going on that Apple Bloom wasn’t telling her.

Of course, she was hiding something from Apple Bloom, but the dream was just that, a dream. Apple Bloom didn’t need to know about that, and while Ink Blot might not need to know what Apple Bloom wasn’t telling her, she was pretty confident it involved her. She’d have to ask Twilight. The town librarian always seemed to know everything.

~ ~ ~

Her dad left with Apple Bloom to help their sister on Sweet Apple Acres—after giving Ink Blot permission to go see the town librarian. Her mom had decided to go on a trip completely out of the blue, and invited Ink Blot to come with her, saying it would make for great mother-daughter bonding.

“Sorry, mom, but I was kind of hoping I could check out a book at the library. You go ahead. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Her mother had tried to hide her tears, but her melancholy “okie dokie lokie” betrayed how she really felt. She smiled weakly and hopped off—as energetically as would seem normal to anypony who didn’t live with her—to some magical mystical flower forest somewhere. Leaving Gummi to watch the house, as he always did. Ink Blot said goodbye to Gummi, and left for the library.

It only took a half hour to gallop down into town and then to the library, giving time for Ink Blot to admire the unusual weather. Rain and sunshine, at the same time! Rainbow Dash had elected and trained a new head weather pony after she’d joined the Wonderbolts. Having her time spread so thin had forced her to find a replacement, and her choice was certainly excellent. A young mare who’d moved here from Applewood. Rainstream made it rain more often than not, but she rarely let it just pour. There was always a personal touch to it that Ink Blot just couldn’t help but fall in love with. She was so caught up in it that by the time she reached the library, she’d almost forgotten why she came down here. Oh, right. She needed to see Twilight. She knocked on the door with her hoof, and waited. A small purple dragon opened the door.

“Hi there, welcome to the Ponyville Library. Can I help you with anything?” She’d met him several times, but Ink Blot still couldn’t get over how… young Spike seemed. In pony years, he ought to be a fully grown stallion by now, but apparently dragons aged very slowly.

“Oh, hi, Spike,” Ink Blot spoke up, finally. She must have been staring blankly at him for a good while, because he wore a strange and curious expression. “I was just looking for Twilight. Is she around?” she asked.

Spike leaned his head back and glanced upward into Twilight’s study. “Uh, she’s a little busy right now, but if you want to come in and look around, I can probably help you find what you’re looking for.” He opened the door a bit wider and stepped back to allow her in.

Ink Blot stepped forward into the large, round, hollowed out area that made up the main room of the library. There was something aesthetically fitting about a library of books being carved out of the wood of a living tree. She smiled as she looked around at the way everything fit together without anything getting in the way of something else. The side wall of the staircase even served as another set of shelves. Ink Blot could hear the soft ‘scratch scratch’ of quill on parchment coming from upstairs. Twilight must be taking notes up in her study.

“I’m not sure if you have a book on this, but I was hoping you could tell me a bit about poison joke.” Ink Blot said at last, not looking directly at Spike. “I fell in some yesterday, and Apple Bloom’s been freaking out since.”

Spike shrugged. “Eh, she gets like that sometimes. Apple Bloom’s always been fussy over plants and stuff since I knew her, especially poison joke. I never figured out why though.” He stared up into space for a moment, clearly lost in thought, The library was completely silent for a few moments, and then he looked back to Ink Blot. “The only thing I know about the plant is that it only grows in patches in the everfree forest, has blue leaves, and causes hilarious side effects.” He snickered a bit as he finished, as though recalling one particularly funny incident. “What were you doing in the Everfree anyway?” he asked, returning to a more serious state. He started walking toward one of the taller book shelves.

Ink Blot shot him a half bemused look and took a step closer to the shelf he was climbing. “I was chasing down your thieving bird, actually.” Spike winced at the accusation, confirming that he knew about Peewee’s thievery, and gave her an apologetic look. “I chased him out past the old abandoned barn, way back into the woods there. Don’t suppose you know where he stashes his stolen goods, do you?”

Sweat ran down the little dragon’s face, and his eyes darted around for a few moments. But he was rescued from Ink Blot’s icy glare when a loud thump came from upstairs, as though somepony had dropped a rather large book. Then came the sound of rushing hooves over wood. A purple aura surrounded a nearby saddle bag, and several scrolls and quills as Twilight Sparkle came racing down the stairs at a full gallop.

“Spike, I need you to watch the library for a bit. I just need to check on something really quickly.”

An enormous book the size of Ink Blot and Spike combined suddenly glowed purple and flung itself from the shelves nearby, forcing Ink Blot herself to dive out of the way as it soared past. She rolled over and raced to follow Twilight and her enormous book out the door.

“Wait, Twilight, I need to ask you something!” She called.

“Sorry!” came the retreating reply “I’ll have to answer it later. This is really important!”

Fortunately, Ink Blot was the daughter of Pinkamena Diane Pie, master of pursuit. And as such, she had her innate ability to follow anypony wherever they went, and at whatever speed, though she lacked her mother’s keen ability to beat her target to their destination. She followed Twilight along with little effort at a heavy jog—apparently unicorns couldn’t run as fast as earth ponies. They were heading toward the farm hills on the far side of town—near the old barn.

What in Equestria did Twilight have to check on out here, and so urgently? Twilight skidded to a halt in front of Ink Blot’s new mural. A look of surprise, then shock and horror, filled her face.

“No.” She began shaking her head, backing away slowly. “No, no NO!”

Ink Blot frowned. The mural couldn’t be that horrifying. Twilight turned and saw her, and her face instantly turned to anger and rage.

“What did you DO?!” She screamed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Twilight’s horn lit up, and Ink Blot felt herself lifted into the air. Then, the unicorn seemed to regain her composure, and let the filly down. But not without letting out a shriek of rage and frustration. Steam literally blew out of Twilight’s ears as she shouted her loss to the world. “Agh! It’s hopeless now!” She turned and raced off, tears streaming down her face.

Ink Blot watched her go, deciding to follow her in a minute, but first she wanted a better look at the mural. Something about it seemed to have frightened Twilight. Was it the phoenix? The blue leaves on the vines? Perhaps the red blotch that made out the shape of a stallion, walking through the vines? Wait, what?

Ink Blot blinked a few times, then took another look. Yes, she had painted in scarlet, a pony figure walking through the vines of poison joke. That might have been a bit creepy, but surely it couldn’t have frightened Twilight so much? She decided to investigate.

Ink Blot tracked Twilight all the way to Zecora’s hut. It really wasn’t difficult to catch up with her. Apparently unicorns just ran really slowly. When she got there, she could hear Twilight’s panicked voice coming from the hut.

“But we got rid of those. I— I burned them all!

“Fear not, my friend, of tragedy. She has received your remedy.”

“The new one? With all of the herbs I added and modifications I made? I need to be sure this isn’t going to happen again. I can’t let it happen again. I thought I’d never get over it the last time, and now it’s come back to haunt me again!”

Twilight came bursting out of Zecora’s hut, and nearly ran into Ink Blot on her way back toward Ponyville. The unicorn’s eyes went wide in horror upon seeing the filly, and she skidded to a stop, backpedaling her forehooves in an attempt to scramble away.

“No, no no! Oh, it’s all so wrong. This can’t be happening!” Her horn lit up, and in the next second, she was gone.

~ ~ ~

With her mother gone and Twilight vanished, Ink Blot found her hooves carrying her over to Sweet Apple Acres. A good spot to check; maybe her father or her aunt could offer some insight as to what was going on. She considered asking Zecora, but the thought of that disgusting bath she’d been given was a bit too revolting.

She found her father pulling an apple cart.

“Hey, dad, have you seen Apple Bloom around?”

He shook his head. “Nnope.”

“Oh. Well, do you know much about Miss Twilight? She’s actin’ a little weird.”

He tilted his head a bit. “You might ask AJ. She knows Twilight pretty well. She’s over by the barn.” He continued on to wherever he’d been taking the apple cart, so Ink Blot took his advice.

Her aunt Applejack was bucking trees near the barn—like her father had said—and wasn’t hard to find. Ink Blot trotted up to her slowly, shuffling her hooves a bit. Ink Blot didn’t actually get to speak to her aunt much, because she was always working the farm, and often busy. It was a little funny, actually, because the rest of her mother’s friends were easy to get a hold of, except for Rainbow Dash.

Applejack looked up as she approached and smiled. “Well, howdy there, little miss. What brings y’all by the farm this afternoon?” Applejack’s face softened a bit, and her smile faded. “Everything alright, sugarcube? Why the long face?”

Ink Blot stopped walking. Her chest felt heavy, but she let out a breath and spoke.

“A—Aunt Applejack?” Ink Blot gulped. “You know Twilight and my mom pretty well, right?” Her lip quivered a bit. It was one thing to watch her mother cry, and see Twilight afraid. But to come to terms with it enough to actually say it out loud? This was proving to be far more difficult than Ink Blot had thought it would be. Mom never cried, and Twilight Sparkle wasn’t afraid of anything, so this had to be something big. Her knees began to shake a little.

Applejack stopped mid buck, lowering her hind legs softly to the ground. She looked somewhere between worried and… no, just worried. “Well, I... ain’t quite sure what’s got to ya, but why don’t you come inside and we’ll talk about it over cider, eh sugarcube?” Abandoning her grove of apple trees, Applejack walked Ink Blot over to the main farmhouse, staying close enough that Ink Blot could lean on her shoulder if she wanted to. Her aunt’s fur was only slightly comforting.

“I knew your mom a bit longer than I did Twilight, but we’ve always been the closest of friends,” Her aunt started when they entered the house. She went to the kitchen, pulling two mugs from the cabinet and filling them with cider from a faucet. “Ain’t nothin’ like cold cider to help loosen the lips a bit. So, what’s got you so down you could dig for grub worms?” She took a seat on the couch and tapped the cushion beside her with her hoof.

Ink Blot climbed up and let out a long, deep sigh, staring at the ground in front of her. What could she say? She didn’t even know what was going on. But that was why she was here, wasn’t it? Her aunt would know best what might have frightened her mother, and Twilight as well, so it seemed a good place to start. Ink Blot took a deep breath and finally spoke the question that had been bugging her since she got here.

“What do you know that would frighten Twilight or my mom so bad they disappeared?” A small tear escaped her eye, and Ink Blot then realized she was actually afraid herself. She shivered, despite the summer heat.

Applejack nearly choked on her cider, and quickly set down her mug. “Pinkie? Afraid of somethin’?” Deep lines set into her brow and she rubbed her chin with a hoof. “Twilight’s always been jumpier than a grasshopper in a cornfield on harvest day, but Pinkie ain’t never been afraid of nothin’. ‘Least not on the outside. Why, she’s the one who taught us all just to laugh at our fear to make it go away.”

Her aunt let out a slight chuckle and stared up into space as though remembering something, then let out a sigh and relaxed into the couch, her face neutral. “If Pinkie’s really afraid of somethin’ that bad, I think I’ll eat my hat.” She leaned over and put a hoof on Ink Blot’s shoulder, smiling comfortingly. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened in the last few days and we’ll figure it out together.”

Ink Blot took a deep breath and began to recount the events that had happened in the last two days, starting with Peewee and her paint brush. Throughout the telling, her aunt’s face formed just about every expression Ink Blot thought it was capable of producing. She chuckled a bit when Ink Blot mentioned the poison joke, but frowned when she told her about Zecora’s odd brew. She looked a bit disapprovingly at Ink for breaking into the fence around the old abandoned barn, but her disapproval turned quickly to fear when Ink Blot began describing the painting of the wall. By the time Ink Blot had finished describing the nightmare she’d had the previous night, her aunt’s face was completely white, and she had dropped her cider mug on the floor.

Eyes as wide as they would go, Applejack shakily got off the couch, gathered up their two mugs, and took them back to the kitchen, where she began washing them with a bit more effort than seemed necessary. Ink Blot forgot her story for a moment as she became curious about why her aunt had been frightened as well.

“Um, Aunt Applejack? Are you alright?”

Applejack turned around for a moment, eyes still wide. “Huh? Me? Uh, I’ll be fine. Just, uh, keep going.” She snapped her head back to its original position and continued to frantically scrub the mugs of cider. Ink Blot thought for a moment, and then went on to tell her about how her mother had left for some pink flower forest. Applejack stopped scrubbing momentarily, then resumed. At the mention of Twilight’s actions, and what she’d said at Zecora’s hut, she actually dropped the mugs. “no” She said, soft enough that Ink Blot almost didn’t hear.

“Um, Aunt Applejack?” Ink Blot started. Her aunt’s head slowly turned to face her. This time, her eyes drooped and she stood a bit shorter, head hung low. She reached up and pulled her hat off, clamping it firmly between her teeth. Ink Blot’s eyes shot open as her aunt slowly tore a section of the hat off, chewed, and swallowed. Then her aunt let out a long sigh.

“This… isn’t a story meant for fillies.”

~ ~ ~

“Ink Blot! Come on, Wake up!”

Ink Blot snapped awake as a hoof slapped her sharply across the face.

“Huh? What?” Ink Blot was lying on her back. Her aunt was standing over her.

Why am I at Aunt Applejack’s house? She thought, blinking groggily. Wait, wasn’t she about to tell me something? Something about Mom, and Twilight.

Her aunt was sweating, and her eyes were stained with tears, but she looked relieved for some reason.

“Oh, thank Celestia. I thought we’d lost ya for a minute there.”

Only slightly relieved; she still looked very concerned about something. Ink Blot rolled onto her hooves and stood up weakly. Her knees shook as she struggled to remain standing. What’s going on? Why am I so weak? Her head swam as she took a step forward, and stumbled. Her aunt caught her.

“Come on. We’ve gotta get you to Zecora’s. Maybe she can fix this.” Applejack quickly tossed Ink Blot over her back, and headed for the door. There was a large pink smudge on the floor, and a pool of liquid at the center.

Is that… blood?

No. Blood isn’t pink.

Why do I feel so wet?

Ink Blot tried to ask her aunt what was going on, but only a gargled moan escaped her lips.

“Just hang on, we’ll get ya fixed up in no time at all. Don’t you worry.” Her aunt took off out the door at a full gallop. Only Ink Blot and her mother could possibly match this speed.

She sounds really worried.

Ink Blot noticed her hooves were dripping with whatever that pink stuff was. She felt really ill now.

Wait, that’s—

Ink Blot screamed as loud as was possible, but her mouth could no longer form words. Air from her lungs bubbled out through the spot where her lips now hung limply, half liquified.

Aunt Applejack, what’s happening to me?

Everything began to sound muffled. Her ears were now half formed lumps against her skull, and her hair had become a thin film of… ink, covering her head.

A loud, peircing noise broke the throbbing silence. Ink Blot looked up as well as she could manage. A bright crimson shape was heading toward her from the sky. Fast.

Peewee?

She could feel the talons sink into her back, and she was wrenched from her aunt’s back like a fish from a stream. It didn’t hurt. She could hardly feel anything now; she simply melted out of the way. The ground beneath her blurred together, soon becoming one swirling mass of color.

She was dropped into a large silver basin, staring up at the crimson bird perched on the rim, savoring his victory.

Damn you, Peewee. Damn you to hell.

Pinkie's Lament

Author's Notes:

Originally I was going to make a sequel, as the first three chapters to "The Pony On The Wall" came out beautifully—and what follows is written in a much different style—but then I realized I'd made promises in the synopsis that are too old to be changed now, so the next story (Which would have been called "Nightmare's Kiss") will be added here, under the same title. (This chapter starts from the same place as "A Batch of Brew" but tells from Twilight's side of things)

Enjoy.

The vines were everywhere! Writhing blue vines slithered around the forest floor, smothering him in scratchy blue leaves. They surrounded him, chasing him left, then right—every which way. There was no escape. The trees were covered in them, slung between the limbs like nettings, waiting to ensnare anything that walked past. And now they had him. Trying to cure the world, he’d created a monster. One without a mind to reason, or a heart to change. The perfect killer, without pity or mercy or anything but the most basic functions of life to drive it forward. The vines were closing in now. They grabbed at his hooves, and he fought to shake them off.

“No! You’ll not have me! I’ll die first!”

But death would be too welcome. No, he was headed for a far worse fate. They had his legs now, and began twisting and snaking their way up along his body. Now came the stretching. They pulled in all four directions, until he was laid out like a leaf to be blown into the wind. His legs stretched and stretched, further until he could no longer feel them. They became long and thin, and flat, to the point that he soon became two dimensional. He tried to scream, but his lungs were too far collapsed to hold any air.

Joints popped, ligaments stretched, bones were pulled from their sockets. The pain grew until finally his skin broke, and he shattered into hundreds of small leaflets of filament. Leaves! He floated away in the wind, only to be snatched up by the greedy vines, imprisoned upon the net-like webbing by the force of the breeze blowing through the shadowed grove. Bits of him slipped through and got caught on the trees, but the vines came and wrapped thick layers around him, until he could no longer see through them. He knew what was coming next, and only wished he had seen it coming sooner.

~ ~ ~

Twilight rolled up the letter, tying it with a green ribbon and placing it in her saddlebag. It would be faster to send the letter to Sweetie Belle through magic, but there was something about the concept of paper mail that just felt more… intimate. Besides, it would be good incentive for the filly to work on the spell for transferring letters. After all, a link had to be set at both locations, and what kind of teacher would Twilight be if she did the work meant for her student to learn?

Twilight chuckled as she caught herself still thinking of Sweetie Belle as a filly. It had been years since she’d finally realized her talent had been singing all along, and she’d since gone on to outshine even the once renowned Sapphire Shores.

She trotted down the wooden steps from her study. Sweetie Belle had come a long way since she first wandered in with her two friends, asking for help with their special skills. Her heart thumped a bit more prominently as she remembered their long hours of learning in the library. “Twilight Time”, they had called it.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had stopped coming more and more as they’d come of age, and Sweetie Belle had tours to go on, but she was the only one of the trio who still wrote Twilight every week, admirably devoted to her magical studies in addition to just singing enhancement spells.

Twilight entered the main lobby of the library, eyes closed in nostalgic gaiety.

“TWILIGHT!”

She didn’t know whether she’d tripped down the last flight of stairs, or if she’d been tackled to the floor and both parties had rolled down the stairs, but judging by the pink mane in her face and the unmistakable shout she’d just heard, Twilight was pretty sure it was the latter.

“Unnnngh. Hi, Pinkie,” Twilight groaned. Her friend climbed off of her, letting her up.

“Twilight. I’m so glad you’re here.” Twilight had no sooner gotten up, she was hugged again, although not flattened this time. “Have you seen Ink Blot?”

Twilight looked closely at her friend’s face. Pinkie still had most of her youthful energy left, but she had slowed down a bit with age. Still, that didn’t explain the new lines under her eyes, or the tightly drawn eyebrows and water filled eyelids. Worse yet was the lack of Pinkie’s famous, everlasting smile. Of course, Twilight had seen her friend frown before, but that was on the rare occasions where her neurotic attachment to her friends had led her into some stressful and disheartening circumstances. The only reason Pinkie would be frowning now was…

“What happened this time?”

Pinkie’s face seemed to tighten and wrinkle at the same time, as though she were trying very hard not to cry.

“Oh, nothing, she’s just… I haven’t seen her all day and I kinda miss her so I went to look for her and I can’t find her anywhere! I even checked with Fluttershy and she wasn’t there. Mackie says he hasn’t seen her since this morning either, but that I really shouldn’t worry about it.” She sniffed, eyes staring at something just past Twilight’s head. “But I can’t not worry about her; she’s my favorite little me, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”

Beads of sweat formed on Pinkie’s forehead and her pupils shrank.
Twilight groaned inwardly. The filly had been the highlight of Pinkie’s life back when she’d had her, but things were not as they used to be. Ink Blot and her mother were almost constantly at odds, and Pinkie had come to see Twilight during a few of their more virulent bouts.

This must be one of those bouts. Twilight got the sense that Pinkie wasn’t worried about physically losing her daughter, as much as emotionally. Twilight pulled up a cushion for both of them and called for Spike, who appeared dutifully and swiftly.

“I’m here,” he said, appearing through the door to the kitchen. “What did you need?”

“Could you fetch us some tea, please? With double extra sugar in one of them?” Twilight instructed, nodding politely. Spike nodded in acknowledgement and vanished back through the same door. Mentally preparing herself, Twilight exhaled, and turned her now undivided attention to her friend.

“Alright, Pinkie. Just try to relax. We’re not going to get anywhere if you can’t focus. Tell me about Ink Blot. What’s she been up to lately?”

Her friend was silent for a few moments, still staring off into space. Her lip trembled, and Twilight could see tears beginning to form in her eyes. Her mane drooped a little, tipping Twilight off to what was about to happen. The pressure built, and Pinkie burst into tears, throwing herself into Twilight’s waiting hooves.

“I don’t know!” She sobbed. “I… I just don’t know.” Pinkie’s mane fell over Twilight’s shoulders in long, silky ribbons as she cried deep sobs. Twilight patted her friend’s back softly, and tilted her head into Pinkie’s.

Pinkie cried into Twilight’s shoulder for several minutes, and then sat up, sniffling.

“Thanks, Twilight,” she said, finally, rubbing tears from her eyes. Gone was the joyful, exuberant pony Twilight had known half of her life. Her tears were spent, but there was no energy left in Pinkie’s movements as she looked up through bloodshot eyes.

“I—I really don’t know where I went wrong,” she started. “Things were so great when she was just a foal. I could just hug and cuddle her, and she’d giggle right back.” The faintest of smiles graced Pinkie’s face as she spoke about Ink Blot’s early years. “It reminded me of Pumpkin and Pound Cake. Babysitting every week or so. Having a foal so far was everything I’d thought it would be.

“I was so proud of her, the day she got her cutie mark. I always knew she’d be a great artist. Mackie and I both knew. The day she was born, she…” Pinkie’s lip trembled. “ She was so beautiful. A work of art. She had my face, but his eyes.” Pinkie let out a short laugh. “I thought it was a clever joke, calling her Ink Blot, like the psychology test, but Mackie said it would be a good name, like abstract paintings.”

The smile vanished, and Pinkie stared at the ground between her hooves. “But somewhere along the line, I must have done something wrong. She doesn’t love me the way she used to.” More tears began dripping from the tip of her snout. “She just wants to be left alone. I thought maybe if I got her things to show how much I loved her, she’d notice. I bought her her own paint brush set, and she loved it… but not me. I asked Mackie to build her a nice big room like she wanted. She was so excited, she even helped build it. But I had my party business to work on. I wasn’t able to help and I…” Pinkie’s eyes threatened to overflow again. “She won’t speak to me. Not more than to tell me to leave her alone. I’ve tried everything. She doesn’t want me to hug her. She hates when I ask her how she’s doing. I even tried buying her an entire color palette of industrial size paint buckets. And she loves them, but I didn’t get so much as a ‘thank you’ hug.”

Pinkie’s eyes were now shut tight, failing to stem the tears that were once again streaming down her cheeks. She looked about to fall over, and Twilight leaned in to hug her again. She didn’t move. She just sat there, crying through short breaths. Another five minutes passed. Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to say, but with Pinkie, open ears and a closed mouth were usually a safe bet, with hugs where needed.

“She—” Pinkie gulped. “I never know where she is anymore. She doesn’t want me to speak to her, or look at her or, or… I just don’t know how to let her know that I love her. I thought if I just left her alone, like she wanted… but that doesn’t work either.”

Pinkie’s hooves found Twilight’s shoulders, gently pushing her to a foreleg’s distance. She looked up, and stared at Twilight with tired, desperate eyes. “I’m just so confused,” she whispered, barely avoiding another sob.

Twilight smiled sympathetically, trying to analyze what Pinkie had just told her. Perhaps there was a solution.
“I thought maybe if I got her things-”
“She was so excited, she even helped build it.”
“I wasn’t able to help-”
“She won’t speak to me.”
“I didn’t get so much as a ‘thank you’ hug”

“Pinkie?” Twilight asked.

“Hmm.” Pinkie had returned to staring at the ground while Twilight was thinking, and now looked up.

“Have you tried spending time with her?”

Pinkie blinked, then her head sagged. “I can’t. I don’t have the time. The party business is doing so well, I can hardly finish any of my projects before Inky has to go to bed.” She let out a long, ragged sigh.

“Well, how about Big Mac? Does he spend time with her?”

Pinkie’s face materialized inches in front of Twilight’s before she had time to blink. “Yes! All the time! That’s the problem!” She sat back again, and looked off into space through watery eyes. “She spends so much time with him, and they seem so happy. I thought if I just kept my distance, and talked to Mackie about how she was doing, I could care for her from a distance, and everything would be okay. But I just can’t…”

She looked back at Twilight with the same teary expression from before. “Please, Twilight, tell me what to do. I… I just want to hug my daughter, and get one back.” Her face contorted and she burst into dry sobs. Twilight reached out and put a hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder, then drew her slowly into another hug.

“You know. I’ve never really been good with relationships. I didn’t even have any real friends before I came to Ponyville, and even then you had to show me how to laugh and smile. When I was a filly, I had trouble relating to my dad. He was never around much either, but he always brought home books when he visited. He always hugged me before he left, but I was always mad at him for leaving.”

Twilight spoke softly, but clearly, focusing on every relevant detail. “But he and mom were so close, and I knew he couldn’t hate me, since he was never mad at me while he was home.” She nearly shed a tear herself as she recalled her father’s rare visits and gifts.

“But mom and I always read books together. We never talked much. We just sat on the couch and read books next to each other. And anytime we found something we liked, we’d bring it up, and laugh about it. We were reading together.” She smiled at the thought of her mother’s laugh.

“You’ve been saying that Ink Blot didn’t want to talk, and that she didn’t want to hug you. Maybe she’s just not fond of physical touch, or conversation. You said she liked your gifts, but didn’t thank you for them. I know I enjoyed my dad’s gifts, but they lacked substance, and were a poor substitute for some quality time.” Twilight thought hard, trying to find the point she was making. Pinkie could have been sleeping, if not for her short breaths every second or two.

“I think... I think that…. we all express love differently... and maybe Ink Blot just responds better to time spent together, than to gifts, words, or physical touch.” Twilight leaned Pinkie back so she could look her in the eyes. “Try to spend time with her. Take her to the park. Go for a swim. Do something! And just… slow down.”

Pinkie, in the state she was in, looked pitiable in the extreme . Her eyes were dried and bloodshot, her ears clung to the side of her head, along with her mane, and her mouth formed a small flat line beneath her nose. She stared blankly at Twilight, unmoving.

“But what if she doesn’t want to? She won’t. She doesn’t want to talk to me, and she’s always somewhere else. She hates having me around.”

Twilight stayed silent for a long minute. Pinkie was right. The little filly rarely stuck around long when her mother came through town. Trying to spend time together now might be too little too late. But doing nothing wouldn’t solve anything either.

“All you can do is try.”

Pinkie continued playing statue for another minute. Then, slowly, very slowly, Pinkie’s mane rose. Her cheeks rose as well, drawing the corners of her mouth with them. She leaned forward and pulled Twilight into a tight hug. The rest of her mane smacked Twilight in the face as it quickly reclaimed its full volume.

“You’re right. I can’t give up on her, even if she’s given up on me,” Pinkie murmured, softly.

“So, tea?”

Twilight and Pinkie separated, both turning toward Spike’s voice. He was standing not three feet away, holding two steaming cups of tea, with a full teapot balanced on his head.

“How long have you been standing there?” Twilight asked, frowning. She had somehow completely missed his entrance.

“Oh, somewhere around the…” Spike looked around, as though searching for something other than the truth. “... hugging,” he finished. “Tea?”

~ ~ ~

Pinkie and Twilight finished their tea amidst a far more casual conversation, before Pinkie headed off to search for Ink Blot again. Twilight wished her luck, then looked around for what she’d been doing before Pinkie barged in.

“You were about to deliver a letter of some sort, I think,” Spike provided.

“Oh. Of course.” Twilight pulled out the letter to Sweetie Belle. “Thanks, Spike.”

“Don’t mention it.” He picked up a broom and began sweeping the library.

Twilight trotted out the door and deposited the letter in her mailbox, flipping the little purple flag up. The Mailpony would be sure to get the message to Sweetie Belle. Now to figure out how to spend the rest of her day. There were some new books in she wanted to organize, or she could read the next installment of The Dragon’s Journal. Rainbow Dash had invited her to a bonfire later that night, but the last time that had happened...

Twilight shook her head, dismissing the thought. She decided instead to catch up on some reading. It was a nice quiet day, and she could use the relaxation.

“Twilight!”

Or… not. Twilight turned around to see Apple Bloom charging down the street at a full gallop.

“Twilight come quick. We’ve got a major problem over by Zecora’s!” She skidded to a stop right next to Twilight, nudging her forward insistently.

“Woah, hey, slow down!” Twilight protested. She dug in her hooves but had little effect against Apple Bloom’s strong legs. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Apple Bloom replied. “Come on. We’ve got to hurry!”

Twilight obliged and the two of them took off toward the Everfree. She’d forgotten just how far it was to Zecora’s. Twilight usually teleported long distances if she was ever in a hurry, but that took a great deal of effort and concentration. She could manage that right now, but there was also the issue of whatever it was Apple Bloom was trying to warn her about, which could possibly be a delicate situation. Twilight didn’t imagine that diving right into the middle of an unknown crisis was a logical move. It would be easier to simply listen, and let Apple Bloom explain herself.

“Alright, Apple Bloom. What’s going on at Zecora’s that requires my immediate attention?”

“Poison joke,” Apple Bloom replied without turning her head. Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“Poison joke requires my immediate attention?”

“Yes.”

Twilight almost pulled up. Almost. But Apple Bloom wasn’t an unreasonable mare, and certainly not one to try a hoax.

“I hope you’re going to explain why before we get there,” Twilight remarked.

“It’s that scary stuff from that one time. Remember the herbalist that came to town? The one who died two days later?”

For a moment, Twilight faltered, nearly tripping over her own hooves, but she managed to maintain her balance.

“I… ” She struggled to push the memory away. “I try to forget,” she finally said, shaking her head.

“Well, it’s back. At least I think it is.”

No. That horror could not be allowed to revisit Ponyville. It had taken a forbidden spell from Celestia’s private library to get rid of it last time.

“What do you mean ‘you think’?”

“I mean I think I saw some? Actually, Ink Blot did.”

“Well, did you get a good look at it?” Surely it couldn’t be the same plant. Apple Bloom was just mistaken. That had to be it.

“No. I couldn’t find it, but she pointed to the same spot it was last time. I really don’t want to take chances. She’s my niece, and if I’m right, we’ve only got until tomorrow to stop it.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do? Zecora said there wasn’t a cure, remember?”

“Yet, Twilight! There wasn’t a cure yet! But we’ve got to find one.” Twilight could see tears coming from her friend’s eyes. They pulled to a stop just outside the Everfree. “I won’t let what happened to him happen to her!”

Twilight couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her; Apple Bloom had shared a common ground with the poor pony, being a fan of experimental herbology herself. She also couldn’t keep down a pang of empathy at not wanting to let another pony meet the same fate. However, it was absolutely ridiculous to jump at shadows like this without even seeing the plant first.

“Apple Bloom, calm down. I think you’re over-reacting just a bit here. We haven’t even seen the plant.” Twilight hoped her doubts were not just her own way of denying her fears.

The pain on Applebloom’s face sharpened instantly, and she glared at Twilight through tear-streaked eyes. Twilight put a hoof over her face.

“Alright, fine, I’ll work on it. Come on, let’s get to Zecora’s.”

Twilight's Mistake

Of all the weather patterns Rainstream had ever dealt with, almost none of them had ever involved blue clouds. Or vines, for that matter. After generating the scheduled storm—with the help of the Ponyville Weather Team—the rain master had returned to find her entire house stained bright blue, and completely entangled in thick vines, the leaves of which matched the new color of her home.

She landed on the front ledge and approached cautiously. As she stepped through the front archway, the vines came alive, grabbing at her wings and swiftly wrapping around her hooves. She tried to fly away but the vines pulled on the clouds and closed the main entrance, trapping her inside her own home! She tried for the windows but those too were closed off, and she had run out of time; the vines had her firmly in their grasp.

She struggled to free herself but she was firmly bound, and unable to move. Then her whole body began to twist, further and further until she was sure her neck would snap. As the vines became tighter, and her bones shifted beyond what should have been possible, her skin began to melt off. Before long she slid out of the vines as they wrung her out like a rag.

She had expected to fall onto the floor, but instead went right through it. If her stomach was still solid, it was churning, as a dizzying height met her eyes and she plummeted to earth with the pouring rain. Instinct told her to open her wings, but they were no longer there. The ground came up to meet her with a wet slap.

Rainstream’s vision blurred as raindrops pelted her face, eventually lifting her liquified body and sliding it along the ground, toward the edge of the meadow. There she saw Ink Blot’s discarded saddlebag from earlier. She reached out toward it, managing to grab hold but noticing that her body had become clear like water. Using the flow of the runoff to help push her, Rainstream sifted what was left of her body around the bag and settled into a single puddle, as the rest of the storm flowed into the stream below.

Damn it all. What sort of dark magic is this?

~ ~ ~

“Unng,” Twilight groaned, shaking the papers from on top of her head. “Spike, what time is it?”

“Little Spike is not here. You never returned home, my dear.”

Zecora’s voice made Twilight stand straight up. “What? Zecora? I’ve been here all night?”

“Actually, we’ve all been here all night.”

Twilight turned to see Apple Bloom mixing herbs in a bowl, pausing occasionally to glance at a few scattered papers next to her.

“You were actually pretty helpful, and we were able to isolate and concentrate a mix that should help keep the victims alive until we can cure them of the plant. Unfortunately,”—Apple Bloom grimaced—“we still haven’t found an actual cure. The plant is still lethal, and worse yet is that we still don’t know where it is.”

Twilight felt her cheeks grow hot. The plant had never been lethal, she just didn’t want to admit the real reason she’d been unable to save the herbalist. She didn’t even know his name. Twilight’s eyes began to fill with tears, but she managed to pass it off as anger.

“Ugh, that’s because there is none! I got rid of it all, so stop jumping at shadows!” Twilight snarled, violently throwing her hooves around so that they might not notice her face. Twilight quickly recomposed herself with a final huff, then stood up straight, steadying herself with a hoof on her chest. “I’m going to go finish up some notes on artificial pegasi magic.”

Without waiting for a reply, Twilight vanished from the hut, taking her vast amount of notes and scrolls with her. She neatly stuffed them into her saddlebag with her magic, and headed back toward town. This was stupid, and Apple Bloom was just too paranoid because she’d been so close to the poor pony. Love is blind, as they say.

~ ~ ~

Twilight stormed into the library, dropping her saddlebag at the door (Spike would put it away) and raced up the stairs to her bedroom. She flung herself onto her bed, landing on her back, and telekinetically snatched a random book from her ‘favorites’ shelf. Hugging the book to her chest, Twilight closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly. It was quiet in here, with the gentle chirping of birds wafting in through the window. No emotionally distraught Pinkie, no paranoid Apple Bloom, no letters from Celestia. Silence. Twilight opened her eyes, sat up, and glanced down at the book she’d selected.

Daring Do and the Midnight Forest. It had been a while since she’d read this one. It was about an ancient forest filled with magical and wondrous plants, which had incredible power and properties. In the center of the forest lived an old alicorn, who tended to the forest like a garden. She had helped him preserve a rare plant from the likes of Ahuizotl, who had wanted to use the last of the plant to create an elixir of immortality. The book had ended with The old Alicorn dying to create an artifact that could save Daring Do’s life, in return for helping save the life of the precious plant.

Twilight smiled fondly and opened the book, eager to read it again.

The sounds of terror and creatures of the night assaulted Daring Do’s senses as she snaked her way through the brambles and thickets at the edge of the ancient forest...

Twilight sighed and put the book down. It would be great to read a book and forget about everything, but she couldn’t take her mind off of what Apple Bloom had said. Twilight’s eyes flashed to the old and tattered binding, lying atop the highest shelf in her personal collection. The herbalist’s notes. Twilight forced the next few thoughts from her head. No. She wasn’t going to think about that. Twilight let out a huff and pulled up some scrolls, and a book on “Mysterious Magical Botany”. One more check couldn’t hurt, just to dismiss her doubts.

~ ~ ~

About an hour later, Twilight had taken a break from her research, to do more research, but of a different kind. She’d gotten about as far as she could on finding cures for ancient, said to be extinct, plants and developed a minor headache. It could be safely concluded that everything she already knew about the plant was correct. There was no known cure, but the last traces of the plant had been destroyed long ago. There was no point in continuing, so Twilight decided to relax with something a bit more enjoyable, as it held a very special place in her heart, for a particularly exuberant young mare.

Scootaloo’s wings had never fully developed, but her tenacity and determination had earned her at least some lift. Fluttershy was still a far better flier than Scootaloo would ever be on her own, but by leaping from the cliff overlooking town—Rainbow Dash had supervised the whole thing—she had managed to glide all the way to Golden Oaks Library. Rainbow Dash had been so proud, and had promised to take her up to Cloudsdale if she got good enough.

Of course, “good enough” was never enough for ponies like Scootaloo or Rainbow Dash. The two became nigh inseparable, to the point where you would almost think they were related. Scootaloo had even moved into Rainbow Dash’s cloud home with her, since her latent pegasi magic at least allowed her to cloudwalk. Twilight smiled fondly. The two could have been sisters.

They had worked so hard and so long, that when Scootaloo left for flight school, Rainbow Dash had thrown a big party and invited all of her friends. Twilight had come, and gotten caught up in the celebration too. It had been a rough night, and one Twilight had spent a lot of time trying to forget. She could still feel the hangover she’d had the next morning. Never again. Twilight shook the thought away and returned to her notes.

Rainbow Dash had come to Twilight one day, asking if there were a way Scootaloo could fly on her own. Like, really fly, through the use of artificial pegasi magic. It was a cheat, Rainbow Dash admitted, but it would still be Scootaloo doing the work, and she had worked so hard. She’d be graduating flight school soon and Rainbow Dash had wanted her to have a treat. Why carry the filly up to Cloudsdale when she could fly on her own? She’d be ecstatic; it was the perfect gift.

Twilight had promised she’d work on it, and work she had. Rainbow Dash had been more than thrilled to help study pegasi flight magic, and Twilight had come up with a pretty elegant theory so far.

“Twilight!”

Twilight groaned. Not now. She looked up as the sound of hurried footsteps carried their way up the stairs. A few moments later Spike scampered in. He paused near her bed to catch his breath.

“What is it, Spike?” Twilight asked in a calm voice. She continued scratching out notes with her quill, attempting to listen at the same time.

Spike pulled out a scroll and held it out to her. Giving his report between gasps for air.

“Twilight. A letter for you. From Princess Luna.”

Twilight dropped her quill.

“Luna?!”

She turned to face her assistant now, eyebrows pinched together. She snatched the scroll from his hand and unfurled it, hungrily scanning the letter. Her eyes grew wider with each word.

“No.”

The scroll flopped loosely onto the floor, and Twilight slumped down with it. Precious cargo delivered, Spike shuffled back down the stairs to continue cleaning the library.

Twilight Sparkle sat staring into open space. It had to be a mistake. Surely Princess Luna was jumping to conclusions. Twilight heard the front door open downstairs, and heard hoofsteps entering. She jumped at the noise, but quickly regained her senses. She glanced between her notes and the letter. She’d already ruled everything out. How could this be possible?Twilight scratched out a few more notes and turned an ear to hear what was going on downstairs.

“...I was hoping you could tell me a bit about poison joke.”

Twilight stopped writing.

“I fell in some yesterday, and Apple Bloom’s been freaking out since.”

It was Ink Blot’s voice. It wasn’t uncommon for the filly to wander in here, and Twilight already knew about the poison joke. But Apple Bloom hadn’t mentioned Ink Blot had actually gotten some on her. Twilight’s eyes flashed back to the herbalist’s notebook on her shelf, and her chest tightened.

“Apple Bloom’s always been fussy over plants and stuff since I knew her, especially poison joke. I never figured out why though.”

That day. The day she had failed everypony. She’d failed Pinkie, Zecora, Apple Bloom, and…
She still couldn’t remember his name. Twilight shook herself. No. She had set things right. She’d removed the threat. Twilight had found a forbidden spell from Celestia’s restricted archives, that could remove the plant from ever having existed. She had burned all of it to oblivion. It was gone. Never to come back.

But Luna’s letter…

Twilight looked back up at the book, and it seemed to stare back at her, daring her to open it and give life to her fears. Cold sweat ran down her face as it bored into her gaze.

“I chased him out past the old abandoned barn, way back into the woods there.”

The barn. Oh no! Had she seen the paint? No! Twilight had covered that up. Nopony knew!

But you’re not sure, are you?

Twilight bit her lip. She couldn’t dismiss the thought. There was no way to know but to check. She had to make sure nopony knew. She slammed the book on pegasi magic shut, took a few steps toward the door, then paused. One more glance upward, and she knew she had to take the notebook with her. She used her magic to make it follow her down the stairs.

She passed Spike and Ink Blot in the main lobby.

“Spike, I need you to watch the library for a bit. I just need to check on something really quickly.”

She summoned her saddlebag, and all of her notes from around the room, and dashed out the door.

“Wait, Twilight, I need to ask you something!” Ink Blot called after her.

“Sorry, I’ll have to answer it later,” Twilight called back. “This is really important!” The filly couldn’t know. She couldn’t know. It was impossible. Twilight had to be sure she was safe.

Houses flew past as Twilight’s hooves carried her faster than she’d thought possible. Thoughts of the incident flooded her mind. How Pinkie had woken her up to help with some poor pony stuck to a wall. How she’d asked Zecora for help because she couldn’t think straight. How she’d lied to Pinkie. To Apple Bloom… If only she’d known. She could have prevented this. Somehow. She just knew it.

The old barn came into view, and Twilight’s mind filled with painful memories she’d spent years trying to forget. The bushes had grown a bit since she’d been here last. The flowers were gone, and the building looked on the verge of collapse. Twilight stepped around the barn, dreading what she might find there. Here, more than a decade ago, she’d condemned a pony to a fate worse than death, because she couldn’t find any other solution.

Perhaps Twilight thought she’d be relieved to find the wall blank, just as she’d left it. Perhaps she might have felt better if the paint had begun to peel. But what she found, she was not prepared for. As the barn wall came to view, it became clear that the wall was intact, and no longer blank. She dug in her hooves and froze in place as her eyes locked onto the decidedly not blank wall.

It was clearly only a painting, but Twilight’s heart stopped cold as she stared into the eyes of the mural that had replaced the blank wall. It looked very much like Ink Blot’s hoofwork. And who else would have done this? The filly simply couldn’t have known. It was like staring into the pits of hell.

There he was, blurred, twisted, bloody, and surrounded by a menacing aura, but he was there. His coat was red, as though he were made of blood, his eyes lifeless slits carved into a faceless skull. Blue vines surrounded him, appearing to come alive at his bidding, as an extension of his senses. And his cutie mark, exactly the way she remembered it, down to the last detail: Two blue leaves, crossed to form a heart shape, bound together with blue vines.

“No.” No. It couldn’t be true. Twilight backed away from the wall, refusing to accept what she was looking at. “No, no NO!”

She heard the shuffling of hooves behind her, and turned to see Ink Blot standing there, looking curiously at her. It was her. The filly had ruined everything! Twilight’s entire body tensed, and she reached out with her magic.

““What did you DO?!” She screamed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She grabbed the filly with her magic, who whimpered in response, legs kicking uselessly at the air. Now everypony would know. Everypony would ask questions. And it was all this stupid, careless, ruinous little filly’s fault. All her fault. They’d know. She’d tell them. She’d tell everypony, and the secret would be out.

But maybe not. The edges of Twilight’s vision blurred as thoughts she’d never even considered ran through her head. All it would take is a little pressure in the right place, one clean blow between two of the seven vertebrae in her little neck. She’d never even see it coming. She’d never have time to feel the pain. That, or maybe she could pop a couple of the vessels running along her brain. A sharp twinge, and then she’d sleep. Peaceful, quiet. Untraceable.

No.

The thought forced itself through the multitude of other voices in Twilight’s head. It wasn’t her fault. Twilight loosened her magical grip on the filly, shaking as she fought back the urge to crush something, with a little filly the current target of her thoughts. No. Taking out her frustration and anger on an innocent filly would solve nothing. Twilight would have to work fast to fix this, but it wasn’t Ink Blot’s fault. She simply didn’t know. She couldn’t have known. Twilight had never told Pinkie the truth, so Pinkie couldn’t have told her daughter.

Twilight let Ink Blot drop to the ground, and searched for something else to direct her anger at. But there was nothing. The secret was about to be out, and there was nothing Twilight could do to prevent what was coming next.

“Agh! It’s hopeless now!” She screamed. Letting everything escape in that one, anguished cry, Twilight turned and sped off for Zecora’s. She was the only other pony who knew, so she was the only pony who could help.

How could this have happened? The poor filly didn’t even know what was coming for her. Twilight had to find a cure now, or Ink Blot would be lost forever. No, the plant wasn’t lethal—Twilight had lied about that—but with no cure, it may as well have been.

Twilight was so used to traveling to Zecora’s hut she almost didn’t notice where she was until she had arrived. She burst through the door and found Apple Bloom and Zecora, huddled over a few papers. Apple Bloom turned her head quickly toward Twilight, tossing some sweat in her direction.

“Twilight! What is it?”

Twilight didn’t respond at first. How to put this? ‘I’m sorry, you were right’? ‘Ink Blot needs help and we don’t have enough time’?

“Is it the plant I think it is?” she asked, looking directly at Apple Bloom. She held out Luna’s letter to her friend. Please say no.

Apple Bloom looked over the letter, and her expression grew more painful with each word. She passed the letter to Zecora, and stared directly at her hooves. She didn’t look up when she spoke, simply pointed to the table beside her.

“Yeah. It is. We harvested these this morning. Very carefully.”

Twilight followed her hoof, and her eyes soon fell upon a plastic bag filled with blue leaves, connected by blue vines.

“We just need another look at your notes and we might be able to finally make a cure.” Apple Bloom didn’t sound as though she believed herself.

No. Twilight shook her head, eyes still locked on the blue vines. It wasn’t possible.

“But we got rid of those. I—I burned them all!” she stammered. “I… burned them all,” Twilight whispered, barely loud enough to hear. She fell back on her hind legs and held her head in her hooves. This was impossible. She had burned every last one of those vines to nonexistence. She’d even used a forbidden spell to do it. There was absolutely no way...

Zecora trotted over with a very forced smile, and placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.

“Fear not, my friend, of tragedy. She has received your remedy.”

“The new one?” Twilight asked, looking up. “With all of the herbs I added and modifications I made? I need to be sure this isn’t going to happen again. I can’t let it happen again.” Twilight got up and backed toward the door. It was happening again. “I thought I’d never get over it the last time, and now it’s come back to haunt me again!”

She threw the contents of her saddlebag at Apple Bloom, snatched up the deposited letter, then turned and fled. Images of the herbalist’s pleading stare bore into her. Pinkie’s reaction when she was told to paint over him. Apple Bloom’s eyes when Twilight had told her he was dead. As she burst out the door, she caught sight of Ink Blot standing in the middle of the trail, like a phantom come to haunt her. Twilight’s heart nearly exploded as she dug her hooves and backpedalled as quickly as she could.

“No, no no! Oh, it’s all so wrong. This can’t be happening!” Twilight closed her eyes, refusing to look at the filly before her. When she opened them, she was safe in the library.

Twilight blinked. It was gone, right? She looked around. Everything was just as it would be on a normal day. The books were organized, Spike was dusting the ones on the top shelf, and a few scrolls were laid out on the desk in the corner. Could she simply have imagined it all.

“Oh, hey, Twilight,” Spike called from the high bookshelf. “What did you need to check on so badly?”

Twilight’s blood froze. If Spike remembered that, then… Twilight pulled out Luna’s letter and looked down at it, the words confirming her worst fears.

Dear Twilight,

I fear an evil we had thought vanquished has returned to Equestria. Your friend Pinkie Pie’s daughter had a frightening dream last night the likes of which I have not seen for more than a decade. I was not able to reach her to comfort her. I fear she is in great danger, Twilight Sparkle. I fear that the plant known as ‘Nightmare’s Kiss’ may once again be growing in the Everfree Forest.

Take caution, Twilight. We must act quickly, and carefully, if we are to save the filly, and everypony else in Ponyville.

Hoping you are safe,
Luna, Princess of the Night

The parchment slipped from Twilight's magical grasp and fluttered quietly to the floor.

“A… a very sick filly,” Twilight finally answered.

Secrets of the Past

Ugh, that imbecilic filly! Peewee slammed the bucket of Ink Blot down on the floor and fluttered across the room. Well, naive, he had to give her that; most fillies had not yet gained the wisdom to understand the world around them. If only he could have been clearer. Surely spilling the blue paint bucket last week had been a big enough clue. She’d been painting the silly leaves after all. Wrong plant, but still, she’d been in the act.

Thin trails of black ink swirled around inside what would otherwise have looked like a bucket of pink paint. He’d have to act fast if there was to be any chance of saving the little filly. Unfortunately, as a phoenix, he had no voice to speak of, so he’d left a leaf of poison joke on her easel, in the hopes that she’d take the hint and ask somepony about it. Unfortunately that had simply caused her to leave adorable colored hoofprints wherever she walked. The poor filly had been made to scrub the whole house, and only left more hoofprints in the process until they’d figured out what had happened.

But perhaps that was why she’d lasted this long. Maybe she’d built up an immunity to the stuff. He’d decided to try more drastic measures, and stolen the one thing that could truly capture her full attention. Her alicorn brush. He’d taken it and lead her to the blasted plant itself, but she still hadn’t figured it out, and blindly stumbled onto it herself. And now her life was in his claws. Peewee only hoped he had the grace and dexterity to accomplish the task set before him.

The brush would help; it actually had special properties, being made from the horn of an alicorn, donated upon her death. Her hair had been made into the bristles. Such a rare artifact—one of a kind, in fact, as alicorns could not die of natural causes. It was a wonder Rarity was ever able to acquire it, but perhaps one of the Princesses had given it as a gift, knowing what it would later be used for. He silently thanked Rarity for her incredible foresight in passing it to Ink Blot, picked up the alicorn brush from the shelf across the room, and carefully dipped it into the silver can of his favorite little filly.

~ ~ ~

Most ponies would be aware that Golden Oaks library had many rooms in addition to the main library, which were not used for storing books. The great tree also functioned as a house, and Twilight Sparkle, the librarian, lived in some of these many additional rooms. Most of them had doors, and had been visited by the friends and family of the librarian. Some however, were off limits to all but Twilight and her personal assistant. Nopony knew about the room Twilight now used, save for her and that assistant. And probably the pony who built Golden Oaks but the tree was so ancient he or she was probably long dead, and completely insignificant.

The room was small, being hidden in the root system of the tree, and was very simple. Marking the entryway was a small wooden door, magically sealed from the inside, and enchanted to be impervious to everything from direct flame to high powered magical blasts. It was an indestructible piece of wood, and one of Twilight’s proudest accomplishments. Across the room was a bed; simple but soft, for extended stays. A glowstone hung from the ceiling, which Twilight charged each night before bed, so she could remain down here indefinitely if need be.

A cabinet with infinitely preservable food sat next to a small desk, which was really useful for banging one’s head on if one could not think straight. A small indentation had been worn into the wood near the front of the desk. On the far wall stood a crystal mirror that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. The crystal had special properties, allowing it to act as a lightning rod of sorts for magical outbursts, or resist shattering from thrown objects.

It had been a long time since Twilight had needed this room. It wasn’t often she became so emotionally distraught that she was afraid of actually blowing up the library, or worse. This room didn’t exist for her protection, though it could serve that purpose if need be. No, it was for those rare times when Twilight really needed to blow off steam and didn’t want to be bothered with worrying about everypony’s safety.

Twilight looked up from where she was curled up on the bed. Naps were great after releasing a cataclysmic supernova of anguish from one’s horn. Thank goodness for that crystal mirror. Twilight gave it a glance to see that it was alright. It was glowing deep purple, but otherwise intact. Great. Now if she could just rid herself of her hangover. Her gaze drifted to the now empty bottle of scotch on the desk across the room. So much for never again, and it hadn’t even worked. She still couldn’t get the day’s events out of her head. She shivered at what that awful plant had driven her to. What she’d been forced to do to her friends.

And it was all happening again. It was happening and there was nothing she could do to stop it. In fact, she was helping it.She got up and trotted rapidly between the bed and the desk. What had she almost done? It wasn’t Ink Blot’s fault, it was hers. More magical energy began building up behind her horn as she paced, and Twilight allowed it to seep into the air. The mirror would catch it if it the air became too saturated. She turned and paced between the mirror and the door, staring at the nails driven into the boards beneath her hooves.

She was the one who set all of this into motion. By trying to hide it she’d ignored the problem and now it had grown too far to conceal. With that painting on the wall the truth would be out soon and then everypony would know. Everypony would see Twilight was a— No!Twilight looked up as she rounded away from the door and then froze. Something must be wrong with her mirror. That couldn’t be her… could it? The blood in her veins turned to ice beneath the gaze of her reflection. Twilight gulped, and took a shaky step forward.

She moved slowly, each step calculated carefully to reduce head movement. Twilight forced herself to concentrate on the placement of her hooves, so she would not have to think about what she was staring at. Her breathing became heavier with each hoof fall. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. Twilight gulped loudly as she fought to control her body, which protested each inch gained with increasing fervor. The floorboards sang with the sound of sweat pouring onto them as Twilight took another determined step forward and brought her snout mere inches from the glass. Tremors wracked her whole body as Twilight’s brain finally found itself unable to ignore what it was looking at.

The creature in the mirror glared back at her with blood red eyes. Its lips curled upward in a permanent snarl, bearing sparkling but lengthened incisors. Its breath fogged the glass, and fresh saliva dripped from its fangs. Its mane was matted and unruly, clinging to its head. Muscles twitched beneath its glistening lavender coat, and steam poured off of the tip of its horn. It reminded Twilight of a cornered snake, poised and ready to strike. It looked ready to kill. Ready to do whatever it took to defend itself.

The creature’s lips moved, but Twilight heard her own voice call out. “What are you?” her reflection spat. Its upper lip twitched.

“I—I’m Twilight Sparkle. I’m a unicorn.”

“No. You’re a monster,” it snarled. “And what else would you be? Lying to your friends for over a decade, allowing them to believe a comforting lie. Well, comforting compared to the truth, maybe, but a lie all the same.”

Twilight found herself mouthing the words, but they sounded as though somepony else spoke them, despite her own vocal tones coming through loud and clear. The words hit hard, as though launched from a cannon aimed at her heart.

“And for what? To protect your friends? Your reputation?”

It grinned triumphantly at her, as though it had won some great battle of words. But the battle had barely begun. It continued its monologue.

“Ha! Poor, Twilight. Princess Celestia’s perfect little student. You could never do anything wrong. Surely it was just impossible. Apple Bloom would forgive you, right? As long as they still thought you were of sound mind, and still the kind caring pony you pretended to be, you were happy, and so were they. So go ahead, cover him up. Tell them he died. Let them grieve. All for the sake of maintaining that magnificent glamourie that you cast about yourself. You disgust me, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight stumbled back, her reflection’s demeanor changing from the tense, aggressive stance to a pitiable lump that could barely stand up. Her pupils constricted and her breathing became difficult.

It was true, she’d lied, but why? For years Twilight had told herself it was for everypony’s protection. After all, once a pony was afflicted by Nightmare’s kiss, the plant began to live and thrive in their body, eating their mind from the inside out, and turning them into a viable source of contagion. Any interaction with him at all would have rendered Apple Bloom beyond help.

Twilight’s lip trembled at the thought of Apple Bloom melting into the floor, or floating away in the wind. No. That was why she’d done it. It had to be. Right?

Twilight fell over on the floor, hooves on her head.

“It… ”

A lump formed in Twilight’s throat, and she could not hold back her tears.

“It’s not true!”

Twilight’s sobs shook her whole body, tears mixing with sweat on the floor. Her hind legs scrambled around on the floor as she struggled to curl up into more of a ball.

“Oh, isn’t it?”

There it was again. The strange, not-her voice. Twilight opened her eyes and glanced over at the mirror, to see herself staring back once again, but with those same blood red eyes, and that same malevolent expression.

“What did you just do a few hours ago? How far you’ve come, Twilight Sparkle, that you would nearly kill your best friend’s daughter just to keep a silly little secret. You didn’t even have to. The plant would have dispatched of the filly in due time. You wanted to do it, Twilight. You wanted to watch her suffer and scream and beg for help, only to smother her just like you did to—”

“STOP IT!”

Twilight forced herself through, cutting off her demonic reflection’s monologue. She stamped a hoof, and strode boldly toward it, Hot breath snorting from her nostrils. She stared down her reflection with righteous fury.

“I. Am not. A monster! ” She spat through clenched teeth.

Her expression rolled its eyes and smirked.

“Oh, really? You’re not? Well, I guess you didn’t tell your friends that somepony they loved was dead, when in fact he could easily have been saved. And I guess you didn’t condemn him to a life of solitude and torment, void of any stimuli whatsoever as his mind rots from the inside out. You can’t even remember his name. You don’t even have the decency to remember the name of the stallion you as good as murdered in cold, heartless—”

“SHUT UP!” Twilight shrieked, slamming her hoof into the glass so hard it nearly shattered. Fragmented images of herself laughed back at her.

“Oh, I’m not finished yet. You even doomed a poor innocent filly to the same fate when you failed to remove the threat, and just imagine what will happen when everypony finds out that you lied. Imagine when they realize the truth.”

Twilight and her reflection leaned so close their horns nearly touched.

“They will hate you, Twilight Sparkle. They will see what you truly are and they will never forgive you for what you did.”

Twilight backed away from the glass, unable to look away, and unable to cease her own laughter.

Just what have I become?

Twilight slumped onto the floor, shivering and crying into her hooves. Her face turned white, and her pupils shrank as she stared into her hideous, maniacal reflection.

~ ~ ~

“Twilight!”

The voice was barely audible, muffled, as though said underwater.

“Twilight! Come on open up!”

A loud frantic pounding came from a point somewhere behind her. Twilight became aware that she was on the floor, and opened her eyes slightly. There was no light wherever she was. She pushed herself onto her feet, legs shaking as they struggled to support her weight. She was cold, and her mane clung to her neck, soaked in some clammy substance.

As Twilight started to reach out with her magical senses to feel what was around her, something exploded to her left. Instinctively, Twilight leapt back, throwing up a magical barrier around herself which doubled as a light source for the room. She was in her panic room. The magenta glow of her shield fell upon the familiar bed, desk and food cabinet she’d kept in here. There was powdered glass everywhere, and her magical senses told her the mirror that should be behind her was missing. Opposite her, her indestructible wooden door lay in splinters. Next to the debris was her faithful assistant, Spike, and standing directly behind him was Princess Luna, her horn still powering down.

“Twilight!” Spike cried, running to her with tears in his eyes. Twilight dropped her shield and allowed him to hug her. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he cried into her shoulder.

Twilight stared blankly across at Luna, whose face bore the weight of worry. She stepped slowly into the room, illuminating it with her horn. Twilight shot some power into the glow crystal she’d installed when she discovered this room, and it sprang to life instantly. She gave Spike a nudge and he released her, then she stepped toward Luna.

“What is it, Princess Luna? What’s going on?” She asked, still shivering.

Luna looked at her painfully, then inclined her head “I heard you screaming through your dreams, Twilight Sparkle. I feared you had fallen ill of Nightmare’s Kiss.” She looked up, still wearing the same worried expression. “I am glad I was wrong, but you do not look as though all is well.”

Twilight’s eyes shifted to the empty spot on the wall behind her, and shuddered as she remembered the demonic face in the mirror. She couldn’t tell them. Her reflection had been right. They’d hate her if they found out. But she had to tell Luna something. Twilight thought quickly.

“I…” She gulped. Twilight couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but it would be less painful than explaining what was really on her mind. Twilight took in a breath to speak.

“Twilight? You down here?”

The sound of hooves on wood carried down the stairs into the room. Luna turned, then moved aside to reveal Applejack standing beside her. But something was wrong. Gone was the calm, level headed Applejack Twilight had come to know. The farm pony’s eyes were drawn wide, and her pupils had shrunk to miniscule dots. She stood tall but her knees betrayed her apprehension. Strangest of all was the lack of a stetson hat on her head. Applejack’s blond mane fell freely over her shoulders. Twilight blinked.

“Applejack?”

Applejack’s eyes locked on to Twilight, and she practically teleported right over to her.

“You gotta help me Twililght! Somethin’ terrible’s happened to my niece! I…”

Applejack let go of Twilight and stared blankly at the ground, hooves on her head.

Twilight put a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Applejack, what happened?”

Applejack looked up shakily. “Ink Blot, she…” Applejack’s eyes turned and caught Spike. All the fear left Applejack’s featured and was replaced with a tight lipped snarl. She took a step toward Spike, planting the hoof firmly enough to raise a small cloud of dust. “She was taken by that darn pet of yours! You gotta keep him in line, Spike. He…”

Applejack raised a hoof to strike Spike, but then let it fall. Twilight was confused until she heard something wet hit the floor, and saw the dark spots forming. Applejack collapsed onto the ground, sobbing into her hooves.

At that moment, Twilight decided it was getting a little cramped down here, and with a quick flash of magic she moved them all upstairs. It was now that Twilight noticed something matting Applejack's coat, and trailing down her sides.

“Applejack?” Twilight said, stepping backward without meaning to. “What’s that pink stain on your back?”

Applejack looked up at Twilight with tired eyes. There was a pleading look there, as though Applejack wanted nothing more than to drop the subject and continue crying into the floor. But the strong, rugged Applejack Twilight knew showed herself again. Her tears dried up, her eyes hardened, her lips drew tight, and Applejack the unshakable pressed a shaky hoof into the floor, until she stood at her full height.

“It’s a mite painful to say this. No, actually it’s a lot painful, but I gotta be strong. Ink Blot came ‘round the farm this afternoon askin’ about, well, you. She said you and Pinkie were pretty scared of somethin’, and she wanted to know what it would be. She started mentionin’ the old barn and the weird poison joke, so I knew it had to be that stuff that killed that poor pony all them years ago.” Applejack looked down and reached up to grab her hat, but put her hoof down when she realized it was not there.

“I said I’d eat my hat if y’all were actually that scared, and well, I guess you can see I don’t have it no more—turns out I'm a nervous eater. So I told her all about what happened, but she started to nod off. I went to see if she was okay, and she just fell over onto the floor and then… and then…”

Applejack had begun shaking again, and all the strength had left her gaze. Luna shot Twilight a stern look. Twilight moved to comfort her friend, but Applejack wiped a hoof across her snout, and continued.

“I thought I’d lost her. Thought the plant had killed her, just like it did that other pony, but then she woke up. I was so relieved.” Applejack smiled painfully, sniffed once, and continued. “But then she—she just started melting into the floor. I’m not really sure what was going on, but I picked her up and started running to Zecora’s. I thought maybe she might know how to fix it.”

“But then that dag-blam phoenix came and stole her right off my back. I ain’t never gonna see her again and it’s all his fault!” Applejack pointed an accusing hoof at Spike, who immediately took shelter behind Twililght’s leg. Applejack let Spike go and looked back up at Twilight.

“I can’t lose her. She’s my niece. She’s family. I know you said there was nothin’ we could do the last time, but I know you’ve been tryin’ hard. Please, Twilight, you’ve gotta tell me there’s somethin’ we can do.”

Applejack had her hooves on Twilight’s chest as she finished speaking. Twilight looked over at Luna, who simply closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. Luna’s letter immediately floated to the front of Twilight’s mind.
Pinkie Pie’s daughter had a frightening dream last night. I fear she is in great danger.
She’d been warned. Luna had warned Twilight that this would happen and Twilight had done nothing. Her reflection was right. She was a monster.

Twilight looked into Applejack’s crying eyes. Those eyes that seldom showed fear, but never lacked tenacity. Now there was only fear in those eyes, and one tiny spark of hope left. Her. Twilight was Applejack’s last hope, and Twilight wasn’t about to let her down. Twilight lifted a hoof, and slammed it down, eliciting a yelp from Applejack. Her eyes narrowed as she stared determinedly at nothing.

No. She wouldn’t fail this time. Applejack had been there for her too often. She was one of Twilight’s closest friends. Twilight wouldn’t let Applejack down. There was only one pony left who might be able to help them. Twilight just hoped he was in the mood.

~ ~ ~

“H-hello?” the filly called into the black. “Is there anypony out there?”

There was no answer. In fact, there was no sound at all, an eerie silence called out of the darkness surrounding her. She made to move forward, but found that she could not. She looked down, and saw nothing beneath her. No ground, not even a body. A bone chilling cold arrived in the darkness as she realized she was little more than a bodyless spirit trapped in a void.

“What’s happened to me?!” she cried. She tried flailing her legs about, but they were not there. She could feel tears on her face, feel them fall, but they made no sound. Instead, a light scratching began to assault her ears. It was faint at first, but it grew steadily stronger, until she recognized it as the strokes of a paint brush.

“Who’s there? Who are you?” She called.

No answer.

“Why can’t I see you?”

A knocking sound came from behind her. She turned her head but was only met with more darkness. The knocking came again, this time accompanied by a voice, but it was too muffled to make out. The filly tried to run toward it, but was once again reminded that she had no legs. She strained her eyes to see where the noise might be coming from, then froze. It was a cruel and awful joke that she had no limbs, because it meant that she could not reach up to check on what her new greatest fear was.

The knocking came again. Louder this time.

“Tell me you’re real, please. I can’t be going crazy. Come on!”

That voice. It was the same one as a moment ago. The filly turned and lunged toward it, only to be held back by her continuing lack of legs. It wasn’t fair.

“Yes, I’m real,” she called out to the voice. “Please, can you help me? I can’t move.”

The knocking stopped. The filly heard a long sigh. “Sorry, no dice.” It was a deep, gruff voice, like that of an older stallion. “I can’t even see you. You’re probably just another voice in my head. Wonderful. Now I really do belong in the crazy house.”

The voice stopped, and the filly wriggled frantically toward it

“No. N-no wait, please! I don’t know where I am!” Tears streamed down the filly’s face as she flopped uselessly in her suspended void. It wasn’t fair. What had she possibly done to deserve this? In her heart she knew this wasn’t right. This couldn’t be her life. Where was her real self? Who had trapped her in here? Wherever ‘here’ was.

Lost in her thoughts, the filly barely noticed something wet and slimy sliding over her flanks. Her blood froze as she realized it had her. She turned to look at it, but could only see the same cold blackness. Panic struck and she kicked out at the thing. And felt herself move!

At last, legs! She tried to move the others, but they weren’t there. Kicking with all of her strength, the filly pushed against the wet icky stuff that was attacking her. She kicked again and again, skating along whatever floor was beneath her as the creature slithered up along her back and under her belly.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“I’m going to ignore you,” the voice called out in response.

“Please, you’ve got to help me!” the filly cried. “I don’t know what this thing is!”

“Not listening! I refuse to go crazy!”

It wasn’t going to help her get out of here, and it clearly didn’t know what was going on either. The filly kicked furiously and began to gain more ground as she managed to get another one of her legs to respond. She stood up and ran on two legs, but the icky thing clung to her like glue, running over her chest and around her neck. She thrashed, hoping to shake it off, but it was no use. It slithered down over her front legs, just as they too began to respond.

The filly ran. Where she was running didn’t matter, she just had to get away from that thing, whatever it was. After what had to have been a mile she stopped, breathing heavily. Then she stood straight up, looking around at the blackness. It was gone. The slimy thing was gone.

A sharp rap from behind her caused her to spin around, heart racing. As she struggled to catch her breath, the wet slimy creature returned and pressed against her face. She screamed, but it was smothered by the creature. She tried to shake it off, but it was relentless. Her muffled screams fell on deaf ears until finally the wet thing lifted, and revealed a small pinprick of light.

The filly blinked. Light. At last. Her eyes swam hungrily for it, feasting upon the small glow from the black. Almost at once she shut them. The light was painful to look at. She had been in the dark for too long. Still, whoever it was who had smothered her with that wet thing had given her something to see.

“I—I don’t know who you are but… t–thank you.”

“Good. Now go away.”

She ignored the voice again and opened one eye slowly, reaching toward the light. Her vision blurred as tears formed in her eyes. She couldn’t reach toward the light. Her legs simply refused to move in that direction. She slumped onto the black floor beneath her and cried into her hooves.

“Why did you do this to me?” she sobbed. “Why give me light if I can’t reach it? You’re a monster.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, and I’m not listening to any more of your ridiculous attempts to trick me. Just leave me be!”

The wet creature smothered her face again, and the filly screamed again. This time, though, when it drew away, there was more than just a small pinprick of light. There was color. The filly blinked, slowly. The light didn’t hurt her eyes this time, but what she could see…

“No, it’s not true! It can’t be true!”

“What is it now? Look, I know it’s awful being just a voice in my head but that’s what you are. You don’t exist, so just go away.”

“Shut up!” The filly screamed at the voice. She knew she existed, because she recognized the thing staring at her from the light source.

The voice finally quieted down, and the filly stared out at her new world. She was in a plain, four walled room made of simple planks of wood. Opposite her was a window which allowed her to see outside, where there were bushes and grass. Scattered about the room were various objects, ranging from blocks of wood to toy dolls, to quills or pillows or newspaper clippings. In front of her was a single paint bucket, shining and clean. And perched upon it, holding an expensive looking paint brush in one talon, was a bright red bird, gazing at her with piercing golden eyes.

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay. Had to get this looked at before it was posted. I'm still alive, and working on the next chapter.