> Lure of the Flower
>  by Impossible Numbers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Last Words They Spoke Together
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy watched the drops patter and splatter the window of the florist’s, and was thankful she wasn’t one of them. When was a raindrop ever going to get peace to itself, sharing airspace with countless others?

She was alone in the shop, far away from anyone. Just in case, she kept behind the counter, comfortable on her seat and shielded should any wandering hooves come in.

Her elbow dug into the countertop. Doing nothing had its own charms, but her back was bent after so many hours had passed. Grimly, she broke her silence by flicking the till open. Cha-ching! went the cash register.

As though on squeaky axles, she ground her head on her neck to peer inside.

She winced.

Her gaze darted to the ceiling before she pushed the thing shut. Barely a rattle of coins.

I know it’s not their fault, she thought. So why do I feel like banging their heads together? I know them. They can’t help it. Roseluck’s always on a harebrained scheme, and Lily’s always overreacting. I’m supposed to keep us together. So why are we arguing more and more?

And now she’d seen the result, right there in the till. No matter how many times she tried to resist, she always got the urge to look, as though her brain were hoping more money would materialize if she could catch it out.

If I can’t even keep things together, then why am I here? How do I know they wouldn’t be better off if some other flower girl – I dunno, Junebug – took over? How do I know whether or not I should give up and let someone else take over? Is this a sign? Is it just a temporary thing? What?

The rain pattered on, too busy mingling on the windowsill to even notice her there, let alone ask any questions.

Unexpectedly, the bell tinkled. “Daisy?”

“Hm?” said Daisy. Hooves tapped the floorboards: definitely Lily’s hooves. No one else moved as though afraid every step would yell at them to shut up.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Lily. Not even Daisy’s groan stopped her. “Just because we’re very careful about everything –”

“Scared witless,” corrected Daisy, her voice muffled by the hoof she was leaning against. Her elbow was starting to go numb.

“– doesn’t mean we don’t have a point, right? Look at it this way; if we weren’t very careful about things, we’d be in all sorts of trouble, now wouldn’t we?”

It was the “now wouldn’t we” that turned Daisy’s stomach. Without it, she was merely listening to Lily’s carefree rambling. With it, she was being forced to go along with whatever she’d cooked up.

“And?” she said brusquely.

“And… well, we don’t want to be too successful, right? We’re happy to break even, aren’t we? So long as we’re together and the shop’s not getting too big for itself and ponies don’t start seeing us as upstarts and hating us and steering clear of us and leaving us to die come the next apocalypse –”

“Lily, get to the point, please.” Daisy sighed. Reluctantly, she levered her head round to Lily’s quivering irises. What little gold there was within those eyes had corroded to jaundice; Lily didn’t sleep enough these days.

Lily’s beaming smile clashed against those eyes. There was the smell of sweat in the air.

“I’m saying,” said Lily, “that we’re not gonna let this affect us, right? We’re not, you know –” she made the mistake of chuckling “– going mad, or anything. Right?”

After a while, Lily leaned forwards and tilted her head. She probably thought she had a kitten’s charm. Clearly, she hadn’t looked her reflection in the eye recently.

“Go outside, Lily,” said Daisy, her voice one long sigh. “I promised I’d look after the shop, and I will. Lucky you get to enjoy… whatever it is you enjoy when it’s raining.”

A natural born fidget, Lily retreated from the counter, paced, glanced around the shop, and smoothed her mane down. Under her breath, Daisy counted the seconds. Once she reached fifteen…

“How can you stand this?” Lily’s voice, normally as stable as porcelain on a table’s edge, started cracking. “This, this, this… this!?”

Daisy refused to move. A moot point in any case, considering she had the same inclination to shift as a stack of boxes in a backroom, but this time her mind fully endorsed the placement.

“What is it this time?” she mumbled. “Another Pinkie Pie party?”

“She always sends the three of us an invite! Every time, without fail! Roseluck’s going. Why won’t you?”

“Why won’t I?” Daisy’s defiance struggled like a sapling in a black box, but darn if it didn’t struggle. “All those bodies getting close all the time, moving everywhere… It’s like one confrontation after another. I don’t mind a get-together, but not that close together.”

Her gaze flicked to the window again. She’d say this for the raindrops; they at least didn’t bother her. They didn’t crowd her with questions like how the business was going, when or if she thought Goldengrape might pop the question, and what was all that hullabaloo about with the broken stems today?

Slowly, she encouraged the air to visit her lungs, and then gently guided some more out and let her slouch deepen over the countertop.

“It’s peaceful,” she said. “Alone with your thoughts… you never know. It might do us some good in the long run.”

Weighing her down, her brain slowed to a crawl. After a while, the patter tapped her ears and the splatter twinkled like stars. Her eyelids eclipsed the woodwork all around her. Why not, when all was said and done? Perhaps another nap was exactly the thing she needed… She had to be on top form…

Lily batted the tabletop until the tremors battered their way through. “Earth to Miss Wishes! Come on, Daisy. You’re not doing yourself any favours. If anything, you’re gonna go mad. You know what they’re saying?”

“What?” Daisy crushed her eyes trying to blink out the sleep.

They were almost muzzle to muzzle when Lily said, “Roseluck says you’re acting funny in your sleep, and frankly I ain’t saying different! All the kicking and talking… You’re going earlier and getting up later too. That’s not natural!”

“Leave me alone.” Daisy yawned. “Nothing to worry about. Just… just need to think straight…”

I’m certainly not telling you what really goes on. Come on, Lily. Take a hint. Go away. Please? For pity’s sake.

Lily’s hoof stretched over the counter. “But we are worried about you. Why wouldn’t we be? You’re supposed to be joining in.”

For a moment, anger surged through her and invaded her mouth. “I’m not going to any parties! And I don’t want you getting yourselves into a tizzy over this! I’m fine. It’s just time to think. Is that OK?”

To her surprise – and to her friend’s credit – Lily barely even flinched. “You’re being silly! Anyway, it’s my job to get into a tizzy over this. Roseluck’s too. This has gone on and on and on for long enough. Sooner or later, we will call in a specialist.”

Funny, Daisy thought, how someone who faints over snapped azaleas can take and give a shout without fuss.

After a few seconds, Lily patted her on the forelimb and held her hoof there for long enough, as though two flowers were twined by a change in the wind.

Through the ever-present mist of encroaching sleep, Daisy glared at her, seeing her fading away.

Then the bell tinkled. The shop was empty. At last, Daisy was alone, surrounded by splashes of colour, and as still as the blurring petals.




> The Rose, Red with Embarrassment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

While Doc gabbled on – faster and faster, and over the objections of Princess Twilight Sparkle – about some hazardous prophecy stuff that was probably  way over his head anyway, Roseluck tuned out the beatbox music to focus  on Lily. She was twitching in the corner.

Again.

“Now  really,” said Doc from the other side of the table, “I meant, and  Hazardous Prophecy agrees with me, that the impossible is often far more  comprehensible than the merely very improbable. No, listen a moment.  Turning invisible by magic is simple enough for a child to understand.  So, the reasoning goes, turning invisible by the clever use of mirrors,  projection technology, and some special shiny fabric must be the more difficult task to pull off!”

Showing off again,  thought Roseluck, but in an absent, dreary way, as of one who picked up  the thought without thinking, simply because the trigger had been  pulled and the trap had snapped shut in her mind. Part of her was proud  for him, sure, but he’d left her far behind again, and after a while of  this she’d given up hope of catching up.

“You misunderstood his  whole point!” Twilight patted the table, where a less self-controlled  mare might have hammered it. “Magic isn’t easy to understand.  We’re just familiar with it. Once you peel back the surface, what looks  simple is actually really, really complicated. The impossible, if it’s actually possible, is just another kind of improbable!”

On  the other hoof, Lily was the sort who wouldn’t even make it to the  starting line. Roseluck sighed and her heart wept. The pink-coated  blonde was stuck in the corner, too terrified to even say hello in case  she fluffed it. And at a Pinkie Pie party no less!

With Lily  hanging around the back of her mind, Roseluck wished her good luck and  tried to focus on the conversation again. They’d been going on about  this latest book for some time.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she  said, smiling and warming up for the big run. “The rules are out there.  You just have to find out what they are, right?”

On her left,  Twilight lowered her cup; the lemonade sloshed and fizzed inside. “Well,  yes, there are the empirical observations to consider, but without a  testable hypothesis or a null hypothesis to compare against –”

“Ah,”  said Doc triumphantly, “there’s the conundrum, Miss Sparkle. How do you  decide ahead of time what’s a valid hypothesis and what’s not?”

And…  Roseluck tripped. The race ran on without her. Still, she glowered and  focused as best she could. Doc was only getting carried away. She could  catch up sooner or later.

“Obviously,” said Twilight, smirking at  him, “the principle of scientific investigation is to have a phenomenon  to explain. Either Nature provides, or previous scientific works will.”

Roseluck took a stab at it. “You mean experts?”

“Well,  yes,” said Twilight, who reduced her smirk to a friendlier smile. “For  exactly the same reason you go to a doctor for medical advice or a  lawyer for legal advice. When they’ve distinguished themselves in the  field, what they say carries tremendous weight.”

Not entirely sure  if Twilight was talking down to her, but at least happy they weren’t  arguing again, Roseluck nodded over and over. “Of course. That makes  sense.”

“Now now now, hold on,” spluttered Doc opposite. “I think  Hazardous Prophecy had something to say on that front, hadn’t he? One of  his three laws, in fact?”

“The one,” said Twilight, blinking innocently, “that everyone forgets because it’s logically dubious?”

“The one  that says what you said… and then adds, ‘But if the expert should  declare something to be impossible, then it is all but certain that  they’re talking through their hat.’ I happen to know for a fact that  dozens of scientists who said something was impossible have been proven  wrong sooner or later by some upstart tinkering in his basement.”

Roseluck groaned with sheer embarrassment. Sometimes he was so obvious.

Under  cover of their next round of cheerful argument and counterargument,  Roseluck checked behind her. Lily stood in the corner, fidgeting and  eyeing up the drinks table.

Poor Lily. Her nerves must be playing her up again. Maybe I should go over and talk to her. Oh, if only Daisy was here…

Still,  she didn’t actually get up. Maybe later. Upon hearing the other two  settle down in a ceasefire, she turned back to the conversation.

“I quite like the second law,” she said. “Of Hazardous Fallacy –”

“Hazardous Prophecy,” corrected Twilight, but gently.

Inside  Roseluck’s head, a little Rose smacked herself. She knew she’d start  blushing now; Doc had commented on it a couple of times before, and then  made a point of not correcting her in future.

“Yes,” she said to the tabletop. “It’s what makes science so wonderful. ‘Go as far as you can, and then go further.’”

She saw the words forming behind Twilight’s lips: Logically impossible, or Another law that makes no sense.  But Roseluck wasn’t the Doc, and the shifting lips stopped and smoothed  themselves down. This was always the way; Twilight and Doc were  heavyweight champions of science, and happy to deck each other in a  friendly spirit of polysyllabic competition. However, they were less  happy about doing the same to a pinweight like Roseluck.

Flattering?  Or insulting? Not that Roseluck wanted to get verbally decked, but the  problem with going easy on a pinweight was that it meant she was a  pinweight.

“Definitely,” said Doc carefully, “important. Yes, one must always… uh… push back the limits as far as one can.”

“Discover  the limits, yes,” Twilight corrected, in that special bright tone she  used to pretend she wasn’t actually correcting anything.

“It’s like detective stories,” said Roseluck.

“A good analogy!” said Twilight, trying too hard.

“Uh, yeah… because they test each idea and then see how far each one goes.”

And  that law says: nothing’s impossible. If you think it can be done, then try  your hardest, because no one has the right to shut you down before  you’ve even started. She didn’t dare say this, though. Should she do  so, they’d probably shuffle where they sat and avoid her eye, and she  knew what that meant.

Take it seriously. BE the scientist. Come on, Roseluck! Think about what you’re saying.

“In  fact,” said Doc, bracing himself against the table as though about to  gallop for a joust. “That leads quite nicely into my point, Miss  Sparkle! Any technology that’s too simple by far is just magic on a  detour. No, the future belongs to the more complex devices, and that’s  where I intend to place my bets.”

“And I say,” replied Twilight,  likewise bracing for a countering joust, “that on this one, I’m with  Hazardous Prophecy! The third law clearly states that anything seemingly  simple, studied deeply enough, reveals itself to be a profoundly  complicated phenomenon! That’s why magic will still be around; it’s not  simple, any more than minds are! We just think they are because they’re…  Well, we deal with them all the time. We have the illusion of  familiarity, and a scientist cannot afford to overlook that. And that’s  where I intend to place my bets.”

“Magic will be replaced by sufficiently advanced technology! The revolution is happening right now! I have the data to prove it!”

“Magic is sufficiently advanced technology! I have the theoretical underpinning and philosophical treatises to prove it!”

Doc barked a laugh. “Air and words!”

“Raw data!”

“Your theoretical principles are, and ought only to be, the slaves of empirical observations!”

“No! Your undisciplined jumbles of numbers are, and ought only to be, the slaves of rational and reasonable organized thought!”

Oh boy.  Roseluck slipped out of her seat and let them get on with it. The weird  part was that they both had the rich honey smell of two ponies in a  good mood, which in her mind was hard to square with their shouting.

She  wondered if two ponies could be happily angry with each other, or if  this was that “academic debate” stuff he’d been touting a few weeks  back. Apparently, it was a marvellous thing.

At times like this, she didn’t blame Lily at all. But the poor girl couldn’t stand in a corner forever.

They had to stick together. Even though Daisy wasn’t here, they had to, got to, ought to stick together.

Anyway,  an “academic debate” could get a bit too stuffy for her liking. Sooner  or later, she needed a breath of fresh air. Around her, ponies that  she’d pass in the street and occasionally wave to were dancing and  stinking of sweat and talking far too loud, their murmurs and shrieks  and laughter overcrowding even the beatbox blares of the DJ.

She  stopped to let Derpy go past. The mare was thrashing her way through a  dance. Someone had stuck a lampshade onto her head, and either she  didn’t notice or she didn’t care.

Everything was just too much. A changeling looking for some love to snack on would drown under the tidal wave.

And that was fine, she thought hastily. Really. I love… going to town… and boogeying… and all that other exciting stuff. In moderation.

Derpy  finally moved on. As soon as Roseluck took a few more tiptoeing steps,  however, Pinkie Pie sauntered into view, leading an entire pony conga  line. Roseluck beamed along with them and knew better than to interrupt.

Actually, her chest fluttered with envy, along with her stomach’s more familiar butterflies.

But  it was OK, because she’d found Doc. He was all right once he had his  science fit. If anything, though, she reserved her envy for him most of  all. He knew so much. He talked so breezily about chemical this and  space-time that and fundamental force the other thing. He was showing  her a bigger world, far beyond her garden of experience.

Not that  she didn’t love her gardens, of course. Just nice to know there was this  big world beyond the fence, and she could go out and explore it at any  time.

Finally, she got impatient and “excuse-me’d” her way  between Shoeshine and Lemon Hearts, earning glares from both of them,  winding her way, finally, towards Lily.

By which point, someone  had beaten her to it. Goldengrape, a smile with an earth stallion  attached, leaped out and seized Lily so suddenly by the shoulder that  Lily squealed and hit the wall behind.

“Heeeeey, beautiful!” He  winked at her. “What’s a lovely lady like you doing hanging around the  margins? Little vixen ready to do the foxtrot, or get spicyyyyyyyy with a  salsa?”

“What!?” Lily darted about for an escape. “What!? I didn’t – I said – I never –”

Roseluck  slapped herself. Trust Goldengrape to throw himself at someone looking  to bolt. One day, Daisy would simply have to teach him the “gung-ho”  approach wasn’t the solution to everything.

Evidently, Goldengrape  was picking up the mood too; his smile vanished behind his  brow-furrowed concern. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to put you out, Lily. I  just assumed, since you were at the party and everything, you know,  you’d be, uh, getting into the spirit of the thing?”

“I thought you were with Daisy!” Lily blurted out in panic.

“What?  I am, I am.” Goldengrape’s lips fumbled with the words, and Rose could  just imagine him trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. “I-I thought  you needed a bit of cheering up, that’s all. Thought you were waiting  to dance.”

“In my own time, in my own time.” Lily smoothed down  her blond mane, tilting the lily blossom she always kept tucked behind  an ear. “Good grief. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Goldengrape looked so pained and lost that Roseluck took pity on him. She patted his shoulder.

“It’s OK. I’ll take over from here,” she said.

He  gave her a last helpless look and then backed off grimly, nodding  before he turned away. Once or twice, she saw him glance back at them.

“How are you, Lily?” she said.

“Did  I offend him?” Lily craned to see over her. “I offended him, didn’t I?  Everyone keeps staring at me. I know what they’re thinking.”

“Well, you are standing there not talking to anyone. Either you stay at home or you join in. Normally, at least.”

“Oh,  I’m so jumpy my legs feel like they’re inches over the ground all the  time!” As she spoke, Lily paced, swivelled her head, rubbed herself, and  kept cocking her ears. “I only came ‘cause I didn’t want everyone  saying I was a shut-in like Daisy.”

Roseluck sighed. “Yes, Lily.”

“I heard them talking about her.”

“So did I, Lily.”

“She’ll go the same way as Mister Greenhooves, you know. He turned into a shut-in, right at the finish.”

Roseluck  clamped her mouth shut. No wonder Lily hardly ever spoke to anyone  these days; in her current mood, she had the same tact and calmness as a  frothing evangelist raving at a funeral. They Did Not Talk About Mister  Greenhooves.

Still, she had a point.

“Daisy won’t end up like that.” Roseluck giggled, but nervously; she was half-wondering about it herself.

“No? He started sleeping more often too! And he was a gardener!”

“He was really old.”

“Yes, well, that’s what they think.”

Groaning,  Roseluck stood and resisted the urge to move away. Another reason no  one talked to Lily was because sometimes she got these… ideas. Last  week, she’d said the Wonderbolts were going to break the sound barrier  and shatter the world. The week before, she’d gone on about secret yak  invasions to smash the country. And the week before that, she’d insisted  someone was stalking Princess Twilight Sparkle, which just went to show  how badly Lily had gone loco. Everyone knew someone was stalking  Twilight Sparkle. She was a princess. It came with the job. Someone somewhere would always try their luck for a royal autograph. That was business as usual. Nothing to get worked up about.

However, Roseluck knew what was going on. She had to make allowances. These were trying times.

“Lots  of ponies get hypersomnia,” she said gently. “Doc explained this to me.  It could be all sorts of things. She won’t end up in a coma.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but it’s a reasonable guess. Why should she go into a coma?”

“Aha,”  said Lily with a horrified glee that widened her eyes and her grin. “No  one ever found out what made him go into a coma, did they?”

“Well…” said Roseluck, swept along by the madness in spite of herself. “No.”

“Doesn’t that worry you?”

“I’m  sure Doc knows what he’s talking about. He’s very good at this sort of  thing. And Nurse Redheart said it sometimes just happens, and she’s got  loads of medical experience.”

Lily grunted. It was supposed to  convey doubt, but that implied thinking. Roseluck increasingly believed  that the grunt was a signal, indicating that Lily’s brain had jammed on  the bits that didn’t fit and had merely spat them back out again.

Not  that this paranoiac – Roseluck beamed at having remembered such an  important-sounding word – not that this paranoiac didn’t trust experts.  To Lily, the experts were often what stood between them and total  collapse. But she had the same view of experts as she had of police  officers who, say, only investigated crimes that didn’t threaten the  apocalypse, no matter how patiently Lily spelled it out to them.

Roseluck’s  hoof swung across and tapped Lily’s own. “I’m sure Daisy will be fine.  She’ll keep an eye on the florist’s, just like old times.”

Such a  cruel phrase: against those words, Lily had no defence. Her face – taut  under the stress a moment ago – now slackened and drooped.

“I guess,” she murmured.

Nearby,  Goldengrape whooped and reared up to jig on his hind legs. Beside him,  Junebug walked upright, tottered a moment, and then laughed and imitated  his jig. Further afield, Pinkie Pie’s conga line tried to phase through  itself, causing much confusion and a general falling down and flailing  of limbs. No one seemed to mind at all.

Roseluck winced at the display. Of course, she thought hurriedly, it’s  nice to see them enjoying themselves and no one really gets hurt, and  it’s all in good fun, but… well, there IS health and safety. That’s  important too.

“Remember the first site we went to when we were looking to set up the florist’s?” she said. “And there was no furniture in it and we both  hated it and we asked Daisy what she was thinking? Remember when she  said how much could be done with a bit of pony DIY? Then she hit the  wall, and one of the planks fell out? Remember that?”

“I remember the screaming,” said Lily dreamily, “when it fell on her foot.”

“Exactly!  And, and remember the other time, when Twist came over and tried making  candy, only it got stuck to the violets, and Daisy – oh my, Daisy went  into such a tizzy!” Roseluck chortled.

“Yeah…”

“Hearts and Hooves Days were always my favourite, because –”

“We used to have so much fun arranging the bouquets.” Lily tilted her head as though to rest on her own shoulder.

Growing with the sigh, Roseluck breathed, “Yeah. Those were good days. I’ll treasure them forever.”

Across  the dance floor, the other ponies joined up the conga line and sang as  one. Goldengrape and Junebug blew kisses at each other, chuckled, and  went off to rope other partners for the next dance, since the DJ was  changing discs.

“You think something’s eating her?” said Lily suddenly.

Buckling  under the annoyance, Roseluck rubbed her own eyes. What she needed now  was Daisy. Daisy was always the one who handled Lily’s worst moods.

“Lily, please! Don’t talk about that stuff.” I don’t know how to deal with it! Half the time, I wonder if you’re right!

“Think  about it! There’s an emotion-eater for everything else. Changelings eat  love, windigoes eat hate, that shadow-nightmare-ghost thing, or  whatever it was – you know, the one Luna made –”

A few moments passed while Roseluck adjusted her thinking to Lily’s level. “You mean the Tantabus a while back?”

“Yeah,  that. It ate dreams, for Pete’s sake. And Tirek could eat magic.” Lily  gave a spasm like a dog drying itself. “Well, why not a creature for  eating depression too?”

“Like what? You can’t just say that, or you could say anything.”

“I dunno. Don’t you know? You and Doc know lots of things.”

Inside  her heart of hearts – Roseluck never understood the phrase, but it  sounded nice and emphatic – she wriggled with glee. Lily had said “You  and Doc”. Not “Doc”. “You and Doc”. Her feet almost left the floor.

“If  there was anything like that,” she said, trying to sound professionally  scientific, “I’m sure we’d have heard about it by now. Besides, it  doesn’t change anything. We ought to be there for her.”

“So why are we at a party?” Lily’s question lashed out.

“Me!? Don’t blame me! You wanted to be here! I just came along for support!” And to find someone enjoying themselves for once. I wonder if Goldengrape is game for a samba.

Over  by the tables, Doc and Twilight had settled down. At least, their faces  were no longer red and they were sipping lemonade instead of talking  over each other. In many ways, she was very lucky to be sharing time  with them. Twilight alone was supposed to be involved in a conference up at the castle. This might be her last party for a week.

She wondered if she had enough time to ask her…

“Wanna come with me and sit down?” she said. “You know Doc’s all right. Twilight too.”

Breathing heavily, Lily fanned herself. The stench of sweat burned Roseluck’s nostrils.

“Not yet. Give me a minute.”

“You’re  getting worse; do you hear what I’m telling you?” said Roseluck,  raising her leg to give a friendly pat. “You can’t let what’s happening  to Daisy get to you.”

“I said give me a minute, please!” pleaded Lily.

The leg lowered. “OK, OK. Whatever you say. No need for that. Just enjoy the party, or whatever.”

Yet  as soon as she ambled away, Roseluck wanted to hit herself at once.  Lily was such a trial. It had to be Lily’s fault. But Roseluck should’ve  known better. Daisy certainly did, but she wasn’t here.

No, there  was nothing else for it. She had to face facts, like Doc always said,  though a spat between mares wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Definitely not  when he’d been going on about string theory.

The Flower Trio – her, Daisy, and Lily – were breaking apart. Sooner or later, the Flower Trio would be history.

She wasn’t keen on history. Instinctively, she felt it should happen a long way off, not up close. Like an earthquake.




> The Lily, White with Fear
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon, the party was so stifling that Lily gagged and scurried for the  exit. Sweet relief when the door slammed shut behind her, taking with  it all but the loudest of beats and laughs. Outside, the raindrops immediately settled on her coat, and her mane was slick within minutes.

She ran hooves down her wet face. “What is wrong with me!?”

And let them both slap down over her.

And sagged.

And sat down. With a squelch.

Virtuously,  she tried to pretend this was because, well, she was worried about  Daisy. Obvious, really. Her friend was acting weird. Anyone would be put  out by that.

Truth was that she just felt annoyed by it, as  though Daisy were doing this on purpose. All things considered, she may  well be doing this on purpose. Perhaps to spite her, Lily, for something  she’d done.

They were normally like sisters, and then once a  month the pressure would mount and they’d end up shouting. Somehow,  Roseluck simply never got into the shouting matches they both did.  Over who’d sent Goldengrape the other Hearts and Hooves Day card. Over  who’d wasted money on another round of acting classes, which Lily had  quit anyway because one look at the audience had made her faint. Over  who’d gotten them all in a flap when really the chrysanthemums were not falling apart, it was just that someone had knocked a petal off walking by.

The  whole shouting match wasn’t fair, but they dealt with it. Every rose  had its thorns. Even Roseluck could be prodded into getting catty, were  her cowardly silences not enough to get on the others’ nerves.

But…

She’d  never wanted Daisy to be like this. Shouting was better. It made her  panic and shout back, but she’d gotten used to shouting by now. These  days – these weeks – Daisy slumped and sighed instead. Lily had no answer to any of that.

The clouds covered only half the sky. Under  the sunset beyond, she glowed orange. Her hoof did when she stretched it  to inspect it. Muffled yelps gave way to muffled chortles as whoever had  gaffed now laughed it off. The party had gotten to that stage.

Any other day, she could’ve walked back in and laughed and sang with them. Today, she felt her stomach lurch at the thought.

Roseluck had said it was social anxiety, and sometimes the condition was strong, sometimes weak.

Daisy  had said Lily was born with more panic than the average pony. Even  compared to the other two mares of her Flower Trio, Lily was a nervous  wreck. She was a nervous fleet of wrecks.

Thank goodness  Ponyville was just the sort of place for a pony like her. It was the  kind of place where she could get used to “Good morning” being sprung on  her by random strangers, where ponies like Pinkie Pie were walking  encyclopaedias, except every entry read like a who’s who of the town,  regardless of who they were or even of whether they were a “someone” at  all, instead of no one.

Apart from the occasional rabbit stampede,  last-minute order, and snapped stem, life in Ponyville was as gentle as  it was possible to get in a world where hundreds of things could either  eat or blow up an unwary pony. She’d liked it, in her trembling,  teeth-on-edge kind of way.

But it was not without risk. There’d  been the case of Mister Greenhooves. Everyone had wondered why they  hadn’t seen him around lately…

She didn’t know him very well;  unlike Pinkie, she had difficulty knowing anyone outside of Daisy and  Roseluck. From what she’d heard, though, he’d been a quiet stallion of  the “hayseed” breed, happy watering flowers and raking leaves and being  inoffensive to everyone. He’d lived in the retirement home and bragged  about working in Canterlot ever since he were knee-high to a mouse.

No one was clear on what had happened. He’d started taking longer sleeps and resting, and then one night had gone wrong, and…

Merely to think it made Lily jolt with shock.

Nurse  Redheart had dealt with it. He was still alive. He just wasn’t Mister  Greenhooves anymore. It was Nurse Redheart who’d watched over him, and  then Nurse Redheart who’d sent him to the Ponyville General Hospital. No  one visited him, not even his relatives. They said they’d wanted to  remember him as he was –

Lily slapped herself round the face and yelped. What  is wrong with me!? Why can’t I ever think about nice stuff!? I’m  morbid. I hate being morbid. Nice girls shouldn’t be morbid!

Inside  the house, Pinkie yelled something about an announcement. The music  stopped. Nothing else made sense through the patter of raindrops and the muffling door, but from  snatches of words here and there, it sounded like she was making the big  birthday announcement.

Yep: right on cue, everyone joined in. A  jubilant, flat-footed birthday song, stumbling between the giddy  goodwill of overexcited guests and the fact that Pinkie had clearly  improvised the tune on the spot.

Lily imagined herself on the  dance floor among them, and her head swam and the world blurred and she  had to grip her head to convince herself the sunset and the rooftops  weren’t ebbing and flowing like tides.

She’d even tried getting in  on the gossip around town, but she’d only ever managed it with Daisy  and Roseluck. Sometimes with Pinkie Pie, but she was exceptional.

Lily  never got into it. Half the time, they talked about the nasty things,  like rude words between offended friends, or how someone had gotten a  cold, and Lily was the sort of pony who thought of gossip as a kind of  contaminant. Every time she tried agreeing that so-and-so was putting on  weight or neglecting their hair, she gave in to her own urges and went  to look for a bath, or failing that a scrubbing brush. Anything to feel  clean again.

It was like merely thinking about bad things had poisoned her.

But she wanted to join in so badly. Already, her hoof swung up to push the door open.

Any other day, she was sure, it would have worked. Not today. Daisy’s drooping eyelids floated past her own inner eye.

Through  the brief crack, the chorus swelled and threatened to crack. Laughter  and applause broke out. She sighed and closed the door again. Not while  she was in this state. The talk with Roseluck had drained her enough.

The chill of the rain seeped through her skin. Lily started pacing.

What  she needed, she thought, was Doc. Or someone like him: Twilight, maybe.  Doc never got scared of anything for long; even when he was fleeing the  latest Everfree monster to stumble into town, he’d run a few yards  first and then stop and turn round to watch. He even said things like  “What a magnificent brute!”

Roseluck was right. He knew things.

Take  that talk about contaminants, for instance. Roseluck had borrowed a  book off him, written by some bigwig called Golden Bough. The next day,  Roseluck had cornered her and Daisy in the florist’s and gone on and on  about Golden Bough’s magic laws, and how clever he was to have come up  with them.

Sadly, Lily didn’t have her giggly mindset, and even  now only remembered one of the rules. A contaminant rule, or something.  No: an imitative rule, but it sounded like a contaminant one.  Like, like how eating nuts made you tough, or eating milk made you a  milksop, or eating cheese made you an over-the-top actor. Some essence  got in.

Apparently, magic had worked like that once, long ago,  even before unicorns. Earth ponies had drawn symbols or made dolls or  other effigies, and then the magic had to shine on them and water them  for a bit. Lily approved of this arrangement, though it made as much  sense to her as the idea of someone baking teleology into biscuits.

Then  the spell in the symbol controlled whatever it represented.  Psychosomatic, or so Roseluck had said. All unicorns had done since was  move the symbols into their imaginations and pretended earth ponies had  gotten too big for their horseshoes, but the rule lived on, a stubborn  weed that refused to die.

Lily grimly bared her teeth. Well, anyone who finds out stuff about that for FUN is probably worth talking to. Huh. Maybe they could teach me to NOT stammer at ponies.

So  it had to be Doc. Roseluck was keen but unwieldy, and the student was  not a patch on the master. Occasionally, she’d considered Twilight, but  the princess was busy on diplomatic missions these days, so presumably  had to be met by appointment. That left Doc, who treated appointments as  some rare species of parrot on some island in some ocean far, far away.  And he had the right obsessive mindset; days could go by before anyone  saw him burst out of his house shouting “Eureka!”

Inside, the murmur and the laughter and the beatbox music resumed.

She’d ask him. Not right now, but… maybe in a few minutes. Or, at this rate, a couple of hours.

Lily  sighed and pushed her way through the door. Surely, sheer erosion would  get rid of her nerves? She liked talking to ponies. She just wanted to  know ahead of time she wasn’t going to offend them, or scare them off,  or blurt out something about how the world was likely to end because the  Ancient Pegasus Empire had prophesied it in a little chronicle only  she’d heard about.

As she went in, she shook herself down like a wet dog, spraying nearby guests who grunted and yelped.

On the dance floor, Roseluck and Doc were attempting a waltz. On four legs. It was quite a sight.

Almost enough to distract her from the sight of Daisy, in her imagination, being led away from the florist’s by Nurse Redheart –

Lily slapped herself again. WHAT is WRONG with ME!? How do THEY manage it, and not ME?




> Just Not the Doc You Ordered
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know,” said Doc, as the falling rain faded to nothing and he guided Roseluck over the threshold like a true gentlecolt, “Twilight may be misguided on some of her philosophy,  but get past that and she’s a good egg really.”

They made it several yards before the rain tapping their heads and backs stopped. Overhead, pegasi pushed clouds away, and Roseluck watched them with uncomprehending interest. How did clouds work, really?

“I heard,” said Roseluck, sighing. “I liked that last talk.” Didn’t understand a lot of it, but it sure sounded sciency. “All that stuff about causal agents.”

“Oh, you know how it is – Oops! Sorry.” Doc, waving a hoof airily, had accidentally cuffed a passing Shoeshine around the ear.

“Watch what you’re doing, you!” she snapped before crossing the wet grass.

Roseluck  stuck a tongue out at her, secure in the knowledge that Shoeshine  wasn’t looking and wouldn’t find out. “Tell me about all those Golden  Bough laws. I really liked those ones.”

“Really? Why’s that, mon cherie?”

Unsure about his French, but nevertheless aflutter that he was using French on her, Roseluck added, “I just think it’s nice. To think that earth ponies could do magic too.”

“Ah, ah, ah! Sufficiently advanced science, you mean.”

“I  like ‘magic’ better. Ooh, makes me tingle just saying it. ‘Magic’,  ‘magic’, ‘magic’.” She beamed up at the purple remnants of dusk. Around  them, ponies shuffled or staggered across the grass to their cottages.  “The world’s full of magic, isn’t it? All waiting to be discovered.”

“Roseluck, beneath that sappy, sentimental exterior of yours beats the heart of a cold-blooded romantic.”

She didn’t answer. “Romantic” sounded complimentary enough, but when it was Doc saying it…

“I  just think it all makes sense, really,” she said, pressing her mane up  against his neck. “Once you learn the rules, everything makes sense. All  those particles.”

“Oh, you learned all their names?”

Roseluck  took a deep breath. “Up quarks, down quarks, charm quarks, strange  quarks, top quarks, bottom quarks, electrons, muons, tau particles –”

“Whoa!  Who ordered that?” Doc chuckled and staggered a little; the waltz was  probably hurting his legs still. “And you a botanist too.”

She  chuckled back. Within a few hours, the spell would be broken; she’d no  longer be dazzled by his incantations or charmed by his ceremony and  ritual. No, within a few hours she’d be no better than Daisy, or even  Lily, who panicked at bent stems. Bent stems! Right now, they sounded so  utterly childish! Bent stems!

Snapped ones would have done, but bent stems!? The idea!

She really was the bravest of the three. Her heart and several cups of lemonade fizzing its way through her brain told her so.

Behind  her, she heard the crunching of grass under hooves. When she glanced  back, she saw Lily trailing some feet behind like a lost child wondering  if this was Mom and Dad.

A pang of a memory… They’d agreed to a promise…

Roseluck  turned to Doc again, whose tie she noticed was wrapped around his  collar; it had been a heck of a waltz. “Doc, can I ask you something?”

“A  paradoxical question indeedy, my little assistant!” Doc hiccupped. “I  say, that was some good lemonade, wasn’t it? What did Berry Punch put in  that stuff? Some secret ingredient, some piece de resistance, what?”

Assuming  this was Doc-speak for “yes”, Roseluck offered her question. “My  friend, Daisy: she’s been acting… weird lately. Sleeping all the time.”

“I’m a very open-minded stallion, you know,” said Doc with unexpected sharpness.

“Sorry?”

“So you should be.” He frowned in puzzlement. “Say that again.”

“I said, ‘Sorry?’”

“No, before that.”

“Daisy’s  sleeping more and more often.” The words rushed out of her, overtaking  her fresh surge of worry. “I think it’s that hypersomnia catching. Can’t  you do something to help her? Maybe Twilight knows a spell – you’re  such good friends with her –”

But Doc shook his head sadly.  “Roseluck, my dear, I’m not that kind of ‘scientist’. ‘Maybe Twilight  knows a spell’ – this is exactly the sort of antiquated thinking that  holds back the scientific revolution.”

“Oh, of course. You said.  Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Yet Roseluck frowned too. She was wondering if  Doc’s talk about the revolution made him sound too much like Lily and  the Ancient Pegasus Empire stuff.

“Not your fault. It’s our  backward educational system. Magic this and magic that. ‘Magic’ is such a  nice-sounding word, but you try and swap it for ‘science’, and you see  how everyone likes it. I keep telling them spells are too easy; a real  pony should look for hard work and invent machines to help. Not wave a  magic horn and make it all better –”

Realizing he would go on like this for some time, Roseluck spoke hurriedly. “But what about her hypersomnia?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Of course. I should work on that, shouldn’t I?”

Roseluck pursed her lips in thought. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“You were talking about it last week.”

“Was I?”

“You’ll reinvent the way we study sleep, or at least that’s what you said you’d do.”

“I will?” Doc blinked blearily at her.

They  turned a corner. Embarrassingly, they’d missed their turning a few  sentences back in the conversation, and Roseluck was now steering for  the two of them, looking for another route. Behind, Lily’s crunching hooves kept pace.

Grimacing,  Roseluck nudged him again. A genius and a marvel like him should not be  walking and talking like a fog-brained old hack with the tearaway glee  of a child, yet he beamed at random and had to be held and led all the  way up the next street, between the stalls of the marketplace.

“I  remember.” She sighed, watching the first of the stars twinkle into  place rather than watching him miss yet another step. “You talked about  all those brainwaves and kept asking about the soup strainer. We made so  many brain-reading things that day. I can see all the books open on the  desk. Minds. Imagination. Insight. Circuits.”

She sighed again, longer and with lachrymose spreading over the breath.

“Didn’t get it, ‘cause of my stupid little brain, but it sounded amazing. You really think we could look inside ourselves one day?”

“Do I?” he said, and fumbled another step that jerked her awake for a moment.

She didn’t bother sighing this time. “It would’ve been nice if we’d kept a backup copy of those notes.”

“I always forget,” he mumbled.

“So do I,” she said. “And you really should have a pile for papers you don’t want shredded.”

“I got them mixed up.”

“That’s  why we need backups. It’s like me and bouquets. You don’t just have one  of each flower hanging around; you have spares, just in case –” she  gulped “– one gets… ruined.”

“We should do in the wizard,” mumbled Doc, who judging by his drooping eyelids was done-in himself.

“Ooh, that sounds nasty. Why can’t we be nice to him?”

“Was speaking metaphricly.” He yawned.

“Metaphricly?”

“Met’phorically.”

“Did you?”

“I say, jolly good lemonade.”

“Yes…”  Roseluck was wondering about that herself. Whereas Berry Punch would  never tamper with her own drinks, some ponies liked to pour in spices  when no one was looking. Or when they thought no one was looking.

Didn’t they, Shoeshine? Roseluck grinned. She’d spotted the mare doing it, too.

Oh,  she hadn’t said anything. That would be Making Something Of It,  especially since Shoeshine tended to make very unpleasant somethings of  anything. But she’d spotted her doing it. Whatever it was.

They turned yet another corner, leaving the marketplace behind, and saw the moon rising over the chimneys and distant hills.

“Twinkleshine went on about Luna’s night once,” Roseluck said, stoutly refusing to add: I  didn’t get a lot of that, either. I can’t admit I’m ignorant about  EVERYTHING. You have to start out knowing everything, in science. Or almost everything.  Twilight does. And she can sing the periodic table backwards. In her sleep!

“Oh?” said Doc. Far behind, Lily coughed  awkwardly as though to remind them she was still there and wanted to be  shepherded home.

“Yes. And I said it must be great to be Luna. You  get to go into dreams and everything. That sounds lovely.” Roseluck  skewed her jaw. “I don’t think Twinkleshine understood. She kept going  on about the actual sky, and when I told her yes, there were skies in  dreams, she went off in a sulk.”

Determined not to end on a sour  note, she went on, “But how lovely that would be! If only we could fly  through dreams whenever we wanted, like Luna. Remember when we went into  that shared dream? Yes, the Tantabus was scary, but we saw what  everyone was like. Behind the mask, I mean? Do you… see where I’m going  with this?”

For once, Doc ruffled her mane. Part of her was sure  this was not proper protocol, and a bit patronizing to boot, but Doc did  it like a proud parent boasting about a model student. Anyway, she  hadn’t the heart to oppose that chortle.

“Well said, Rose! We’ll crack the mysteries of the universe, even the ones inside our heads!”

“Oh, here’s your house coming up.”

Both of them stood before the hulking heap for a moment. Someone should tidy up that thatch, she thought, and would it kill him to plug a few holes, and maybe add some flower baskets like the ones outside the florist’s…

They stood, and stood, and stood before they realized they’d have to make the next move.

“Well…” they said.

“Um…” they said.

“Nice to –” they tried again.

“That was –” They both even kicked the grass and cursed at the same time.

They  tried bringing their heads closer, but she couldn’t tell if they were  beginning a kiss, a nuzzle, or a staring contest, and both hastily  pretended they were just stretching their necks.

They tried for a  hug, but Doc stiffened up halfway and she dropped down quickly. They  tried a hoofshake, except she tutted in disgust and drew away at the  last moment.

In the end, they settled for smiles, which involved  no physical contact and wasn’t likely to lead to awkward questions in  the morning. After all, they were both into science. That was it,  really…

…she reminded herself.

“Goodnight, Doc!” she squeaked, waving.

“Goodnight  and allons-y!” He tripped, stumbled over the welcome mat, vanished  inside with a clatter, and popped up a moment later to wave her goodbye.

The door clicked shut. Lily stepped forwards.

“You’re hopeless,” she muttered. “Even I could’ve done better than that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Roseluck even felt the blush clinging stubbornly to her cheeks. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Derpy could’ve done better than that. And she’s got those funny eyes –”

“Lily!  Please! Let’s just go home and check on Daisy, OK? Please? Don’t go on  about it. He’s sweet and everything, but it’d never work.” I don’t work. Not like he does. I’d never get to his level.

Thus Lily didn’t say anything the rest of the way. Roseluck could hear her not saying things, and her ears burned at the silence of them all.





When  Lily got back later – accompanied by Roseluck, who was going on about  some radical new theory of sleep, or something – she found Daisy slumped  over the counter.

Nothing else had changed; her panicky gaze  darted across the scene within seconds before she lunged forwards.  “Daisy! Oh my gosh!”

“No! Is she…?” squeaked Roseluck.

Lily’s heart almost burst. Her thoughts scattered in panic –

Daisy’s  eyes were closed; her chest rose and fell gently. Putting the back of  her cannon before the slightly open mouth, Lily felt the slightest puffs  of air.

“Asleep.” Lily’s heart almost settled. It lived on  “almost”: never quite settled, never quite bursting, always on a  knife-edge. “Again,” she added bitterly.

“How awful! Lily! Lily!” Roseluck danced on the spot. “What do we do!? What do we do!?”

“I don’t know! Put her to bed!? Leave her!? What!?”

“She always knew what to do! What do we do!? What do we –”

At those words, Lily bit down hard on her lip. “Ow! She always knew what to do?”

“Well, yeah. OK, maybe she panicked with us a couple of times, but for stuff like this… Well, what can we do?”

Lily  stared at her, both dripping wet, manes flat on their heads and necks,  stinking of wet fur. It was true, of course. If the midden ever hit the  fan, Daisy was usually the first on the scene with a mop and bucket. But  some of the rumours going around had included her too. They were all  three of them mad. Apparently.

About flowers, of course.

She hoped.

“I don’t know,” she said. She licked her lips. “Uh… find someone to help us? Maybe?”

A  lightbulb switched on in Roseluck’s face. “I’ll get Doc! He knows all  about this sort of thing. I’ll bet he’s been working on something good.”

“Uh, sure. You do that. I’ll, um, get Daisy to bed. Keep an eye on her.”

As  soon as Roseluck was gone, though, she regretted it at once. It wasn’t  only the question of how she was going to haul a fully grown pony up a  flight of stairs. She, who thought flowerpots were a tad on the heavy  side at best.

Flower ponies like them weren’t meant for this sort  of thing. The closest she had to an intellectual exercise was figuring  out why the begonias weren’t blooming on time, and the solution was more  often than not a game of Hunt-the-Creepy-Crawly-Pest. Actual exercise  ended where trolleys of garden shrubs began. Her idea of excitement was a  dance party, for pity’s sake. And they said she was mad, but had they  ever considered that life could just be too much at times, like a day  trekking under the midsummer sunshine?

Nevertheless, in the end  she managed to drape Daisy over her back. Up the stairs, Daisy’s head  kept bumping into hers, and the odd snore made her yelp and rub her ear.

Daisy  lived over the shop. Technically, the shop was hers, and she took that  commitment to heart; virtually every piece of paper – invoices,  transactions, the receipts from the till – came under her hooves at some  point. Even though Roseluck had a way with numbers, it was Daisy who  totted up the incomings and outgoings. Daisy who kept them together.

Daisy, who still panicked with them.

Carefully,  Lily laid her out on the bed. Asleep, her friend looked so much like an  innocent child, with her bushy locks and slightly gaping mouth as  though about to ask for mommy.

That she was twitching and wincing every minute or so was beside the point. At least, she thought it was. Or hoped.

She  glanced about the room, but her gaze never strayed from Daisy’s face  for long. Too much sleep. According to Roseluck – or rather, according  to Doc via Roseluck – Daisy had hypersomnia. It was the opposite of  insomnia, and often a symptom of a much bigger problem.

Another twitch. Another wince. Lily gulped just seeing this.

What are you dreaming about, Daisy?

Downstairs,  the bell tinkled, and Lily breathed out, the relief pushed out of her  mouth. Hooves clattered, and she heard voices babbling. Doc and  Roseluck, all right.

“Up here!” she called.

The babbling thundered up the stairs. From the sound of it, Doc was doing most of the talking.

“See?”  said Roseluck, scurrying across to the bed. “She was like this when we  found her. All the oversleeping’s getting worse and worse!”

Doc hurried  over, tripped on his scarf, stumbled, dropped the case he was carrying  in his mouth, fumbled to catch it, straightened up, and smoothed down  his tie.

“Exactly as my theory predicted,” he said, beaming.  “Without addressing the underlying cause, hypersomnia is bound to  increase as she uses up her bodily resources on psychosomatic –”

“This isn’t the time for that, Doc!” Roseluck prodded him until he took her place. “What do we do?”

“Oh, right, right, right. Of course. One moment.”

“Roseluck?”

While  Doc wrestled to open his case and the contents clattered, Lily beckoned  her over to a corner. Pointedly, she turned her back on the humming of  the stallion while measuring tapes snapped and metal instruments  creaked.

“Roseluck,” she whispered once the pale face leaned in. “You’re sure he knows what he’s doing?”

“Of course! He’s a scientist.”

“He says he is.”

“Well,  he’s the best we’ve got. The princesses are busy. They’re not gonna  come down to see little ponies like us, simply ‘cause Daisy’s sleeping a  lot. They’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Which ran smack  against the inside of Lily’s head. Of course, it was true. Deep in her  mind, a little worm of a thought insisted it was true. There were bigger  things going on than one pony sleeping a lot. She was smart enough to know that, even if she still didn’t know how to spell “hypersomnia”.

But it didn’t matter.

“We should’ve sent for Princess Luna,” Lily muttered. “She knows about dreams and stuff.”

“I  told you,” pleaded Roseluck, even ducking on her knees. “Royal requests  take ages to get through. Trust me. Doc knows these things.”

“OK!” Doc called, turning round. “Ladies, I have some news!”

Surprised,  they dashed over to the bedside. Perhaps Daisy was waking up – No, she  was still lying as though knocked out. Lily wished she’d placed her  friend down with some more dignity; those splayed limbs made the tiny  torso all the more obvious.

Doc waved what looked like a soup  strainer with diodes shot into it at random. “Latest revolution in dream  mechanics hardware. Ever since you told me about poor Daisy’s plight,  I’ve been developing this for weeks should such an eventuality… well,  eventuate. My latest invention!”

“And this one works, right?”  Unlike Roseluck, Lily treated Doc’s mishmash of metal and machinery as one  might treat unexploded shells after a bombing run.

Doc wrinkled up  his face with hurt. “Of course! I designed it in case Daisy needed  someone to reach her during her sleep cycle. I call it the  Oneiro-Scope!”

On cue, Roseluck reared and flailed her front legs. “Oh bravo, Doc! You do think of everything!”

“Yes.”  He rubbed his chin. “Although I haven’t tested it yet, I calculate this  device has a 99.9% chance of success on its first try. Give or take  0.1%, obviously.”

Lily glared at him. “And this calculation is based on…?”

“Er.”  Doc turned back to the bed. “Getting back to the main issue, I predict  that Daisy’s hypersomnia will also be accompanied by some powerful  dreaming episodes. I’ve studied Luna’s works on the subject, and I’m  quite sure I know how it works.”

On the bed, Daisy’s twitches and winces died down. She seemed more peaceful, more innocent this way. Merely asleep, after all…

“You  mean,” said Roseluck, voice rising in excitement, “you can actually  help us to see Daisy’s dreams? That’s what Oneiro-Scope means, isn’t it?  Literally a ‘dream aimer’, from the Ancient Pegasine…”

Not – when she thought about it – in any actual danger. Crease lines faded on Daisy’s brow even as she, Lily, watched…

“Well said!” Doc’s fidgeting hooves were muffled within the suitcase. “Although that’s not specifically what I had in mind. Skopos in Ancient Pegasine also meant ‘to shoot at’, and I intend to take a shot at Daisy’s dreams.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. Her front hooves pawed at the ground.

“What  are you babbling about?” She turned away from the bed and gave them her  most twisted grimace. “Shooting at dreams? Seriously?”

Neither of  them did anything but stare at her. Around them, reminders of Daisy’s  modest existence stood to attention. A bookshelf with few books. A desk  with the barest amount of cluttered papers on it. A wardrobe which she  and Roseluck knew was full – if full was the word – of a grand total of  three costumes, one of which was that ridiculous bunch of sunflowers she  only wore for the Summer Harvest Parade.

“What does that mean anyway?” she said, and caught their stunned expressions.

“Erm,”  said Doc, glancing at Roseluck for support and getting only a confused  shrug. “It means that if I put this one helmet here on Daisy’s head, put  the other helmet on a second subject’s head – say, Roseluck’s – and do a  little of what we in the trade call ‘jiggery-pokery’, this device can  actually send the second subject – Roseluck, I mean – into Daisy’s  dreams.”

“Ah,” said Lily coldly. “Is that all? So nothing ridiculously overcomplicated and questionable, then?”

“Questionable? I assure you, the machine works –”

“Oh,  I don’t doubt,” said Lily, who privately had a list of doubts. “But  here’s question number one: is it right to do something like that?”

As  usual when faced with anything non-technical, Doc stopped for a moment  in complete bewilderment. Not that it ever lasted long; the jumped-up  chatterbox would probably sooner blow himself up than stop trying to  talk the world into a more understandable shape.

“Well, when one has to perform a cost-benefit analysis to work out the utilitarian ratio –”

“In Equestrian, please?”

“That was  Equestrian,” he said, matching her “coldly” with a subzero chill icing  up his own voice. “Very common language around here, you’ll find.”

“He means,” said Roseluck, smartly stepping between them, “if it’s worse not to do it, then we should do it.”

“Worse?” said Lily.

“Well, yeah. No point rushing to her rescue if there’s no reason to rush, right?”

Roseluck’s  face bloomed with goodwill, soft and expanding and containing something  sweet. If honey could be transformed into an expression, this would be  it.

“I also brought,” said Doc happily, “a nasogastric tube for just such a contingency.”

For her part, Lily looked past her friend’s face to the sleeping figure on the bed. Yes, that sounded like exactly the sort of  thing Daisy would go on about: cost-benefit analysis. She had talked about costs a lot. And contingencies too.

Correction: She talked about costs a lot. No need for the “had” just yet.

Meanwhile, Roseluck's pale face, if anything, went paler. “A nasogastric tube?”

“Oh yes. Well, presumably poor Daisy will want feeding while she's out like a light. Her sleeping bouts have become somewhat unwieldy, and a good scientist is prepared for every occasion!”

“You mean, you're actually going to stick that up her nose and –”

“Keep her nourished while she's in no fit state to feed herself? Of course!”

“But you can't!”

“Oh, it's perfectly all right. I did the training on that correspondence course, remember? Lifesaving Techniques and Medical Matters, I think. I tried to get you on it too.”

Now Rose's face turned green and sought refuge in Lily's. “Don't remind me.”

Lily jutted her jaw. Now that the shock drained away, the drum beats of her  heart became the relentless thump, thump, thump of a summons to war.

Why are you doing this to us, Daisy? Who the heck do you think you are?

Even the skin surrounding her eyes clenched like fists. Daisy really did look far too childish, sprawled so lazily on the bed.

“Well,” said Doc, moving into her line of sight. He raised the helmet. “I suppose we’d better get started.”

“No,” said Lily.

The helmet held halfway. Doc raised an eyebrow at her, but it was a  stock-issue expression and merely gave her rage yet another target,  without in any way intensifying.

“No!?” squeaked Roseluck incredulously.

“Come  now, Miss Valley,” he said. “You hardly would have summoned me here if  you weren’t expecting this kind of mechanical assistance.”

“Oh,  really?” snapped Lily. “Well, I hardly think the solution to our  problems is to throw ourselves into someone else’s head. Are you crazy?”

“Opinion is divided on the subject,” muttered Doc, not quite under his breath.

“Yeah? Well, my opinion is we don’t need all this fancy-schmancy sciency-wiency stuff.”

Roseluck shivered. “Lily, for pity’s sake, we need Daisy. She’s our fr –”

At this, Lily spluttered and spat and stretched her face before she answered any more coherently. “Need her? Need her? No, we don’t! We want her back, but we don’t need her.”

“How can you say that? The florist’s –”

“Pur-lease. The  two of us can manage a shop, I think, without her help for a while.  Come on, we basically were anyway. What good’s a sleepyhead like her at a  time like this?”

More familiar tremors of fear danced within her  chest. Doc’s helmet was right behind Roseluck, and definitely the  thought of putting that on her head and waking up in whatever fantasy  Daisy could conjure up –

“We’re not doing it,” she said sharply. “This is just us getting hysterical again.”

Narrow-eyed,  Doc sauntered over to the suitcase and rammed his helmet back in. “So I  take it you no longer need my assistance, Miss Valley?”

Roseluck spun around. “Doc? No! Daisy needs –”

“Apologies,  my dear Roseluck, but I rather think she has a point. Now that she  mentions it.” Bravely, he attempted a smile, and for once Lily felt a  slight flicker of pity for him, as though she’d just scolded a kid  asking for ice cream. “Diving into dreams and all that. Truth be told,  just because we can push back the boundaries of the science-magic  divide and achieve things previously only the reserve of the high and  mighty, does not mean we should.”

Brass clasps  snapped shut. Doc flung the suitcase over and onto his saddle. Both Lily  and Roseluck stared as he made for the door, but one hoof stayed on the  edge and he met them stare for stare.

“I sincerely hope your friend wakes up soon, and I'll leave the nasogastric tube as a goodwill gesture,” he said, “but just in case: my door is always open for you.”

They didn’t move until his hoofsteps died away and the front bell jingled.

Lily had expected it, but she hadn’t expected Roseluck to spin around so fast. “Lily, what on earth are you –!?”

“If Daisy’s told us once, she’s told us a thousand times,” said Lily, refusing to back down. “We’ve got to stop being… us.”

“Us?”

“You  know: going ‘the horror, the horror’ and hitting the ground. It’s not  normal. Well, we’re doing it again. And we rely too much on other ponies  to carry our weight. Isn’t it about time we carried our own?”

Roseluck’s  facial features balanced, neither too tight nor too relaxed. The pupils  flicked right and left, looking for a hint in Lily’s own.

“Maybe for you,” said Roseluck under her breath.

“Don’t  even pretend you weren’t panicking back there,” said Lily stoutly.  “Look, this is what’ll happen; Daisy will have another nap, she’ll wake  up, we go into another tizzy, and then life carries on as normal.”

“That’s awful.” Roseluck’s eyes shone.

“Yeah?  You think? I know about stock market crashes and crop failures; those  are just the least scary ways the world could come to an end. Compared  to that, I think Daisy dozing off wouldn’t even make the top one hundred list of ‘awful’  things.”

More gently, she nodded to the bed. Daisy was utterly free of twitch or wince now.

Roseluck hung her head. “I suppose so… but…”

Neither  of them said anything more. Nothing could adequately follow up that  “but”. They were the Flower Trio. They were all that they had, in this  little bedroom in this little shop, and Lily sensed the world beyond as  an arctic explorer sensed, beyond their tent, the howling winds and  biting flakes of the arctic storm.

Surrounded by chills, Lily’s anger dwindled.

“Look,”  said Lily, “it’s bedtime. We’ll check on her tomorrow morning, see if  she’s OK, and then get some breakfast together. How does that sound,  huh? Nice and simple.”




> When the Flower Sleeps
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun rose over their hopes the next morning. As they  approached the florist’s, waved at passing ponies, and stopped to fumble  through their saddlebags to see who could get their key first, the  greens and pinks of the shop reminded them of meadows from long ago.

Lily  unlocked the front door and guided the top half open, then the bottom,  before entering a perfume of eye-watering smells. Snowdrops bowed their  little heads respectfully. Tulips looked up, their petals blazing red  under the sunlight streaming through the window. Lilacs offered up their  heart-shaped leaves and huddled together as fluffy bunches.

“OK,”  said Lily, dropping her saddlebags behind the counter, “I’ll run the  till and you, Rose, can make a start on the accounting.”

Roseluck grimaced. “But what about Daisy?”

“Come  on, Rose, you’ve got a head for numbers. Just because Daisy always did  it, doesn’t mean you can’t. Or wouldn’t be better at it.”

“No. I meant we should check up on her.”

Only a flicker of uncertainty creased Lily’s face. “All right. She’s obviously still asleep, though, or she’d be down here.”

They  blundered up the steps together, banging each other’s elbows. The door  creaked when they pushed it. For the moment, Lily crouched down and  peeked inside, Roseluck rearing up to do the same overhead.

There  on the bed, having not moved an inch from last night – or so Lily  guessed – Daisy lay, a square of window-framed sunlight halfway up her  face.

“She’s still asleep,” said Roseluck quietly.

Lily  growled; she’d be darned if she’d let Daisy ruin such a perfect start to  the day. “She’s just having a lie-in. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Except that now we’re the ones controlling the shop.

“I’m not sure…” Roseluck looked from one to the other, tapping her teeth in doubt and contemplation.

“Roseluck, she will wake  up sooner or later. She always does. Let’s just not panic over this,  OK? Someone could come through the front at any moment. Let’s go.”

Happily, she brought the door to a close and led Roseluck downstairs.





Cha-ching!  went the cash till. Lily dropped the coins and beamed at the face  behind the fireworks display of colour. “Excellent choice for a bouquet,  if I may say so. Please tell Rarity I said happy birthday.”

“You bet!” Sweetie Belle groaned and staggered under the weight of dozens of stems. The bell tinkled. The door shut.

While  she gleefully counted the coins, she heard Roseluck’s hoofsteps  approach from behind. “Closing time, I’m afraid. How many did we sell?”

“Well, including Sweetie Belle’s request… one.”

“Oh.” Roseluck blew between her lips as though cold.

“At least it’s better than… ooh, than Saturday.”

“Do you think we should add another discount?” said Roseluck.

“No.  If we discount any further, we’ll be giving them away.” Lily slammed  the till shut and leaned against the counter, tilting both left legs for  the perfect casual effect. “How’s the stock books coming along?”

Roseluck’s  smile staggered out of the sticking-up wreckage of her face. “I’ve  corrected all the mistakes of the last twelve months.”

“Wow.” Lily chewed for something to say. “How many were there?”

“About one a day.”

Lily frowned. “But you’ve been working on them for hours… Did you double-check?”

“Double-checked, triple-checked, quadruple-checked… How does Twilight Sparkle do it? My brain feels like mush!”

“Come on, let’s check on Daisy and then go home.”

They staggered up the stairs and apologised when they bumped heads. Boredom was sapping their wits.

This  time they peeked for longer. With the sunlight on the other side of the  room, Daisy was darker. Even smaller, if she remembered it was just a  trick of the light…

“Oh no,” moaned Roseluck.

For several  minutes, they patiently watched to make sure her chest was still rising  and falling. Under their current collective state of mind, the steady  rhythm was almost soothing.

But Lily lived in a permanent state of “almost”, and soon said, “What’s her current record?”

Yawning, Roseluck tapped the woodwork to count. “Eighteen hours and a half, I think.”

“Not anymore…”

The  flicker of uncertainty stuck to Lily’s face. If only Daisy had woken up  by now, they could have gone back to normal. Well, normal for a time  when Daisy randomly slept for hours on end. Yet her nerves had stopped  twanging so much after the first few weeks of uncertainty, and now they  twanged harder again with a strum of concern.

“Should we call Doc? Or maybe Nurse Redheart?” said Roseluck overhead.

“Um… maybe this is just part of the pattern?”

“You mean an outlier?”

“Sure. Sure. Remember, let’s not panic too soon. Let’s go home, and sleep –” And try to sleep, she thought with more conviction than she spoke “– and then we’ll check up on her in the morning. How’s that?”

They locked up and went their separate ways, alone.





Clouds  forbade the sun from shining again the next day. Lily wondered if,  somehow, the pegasi could read the mood of the town and fix the weather  as appropriate.

She found Roseluck already waiting at the doorstep.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” she said, and Lily noticed the puffed up skin around her eyes.

“And you didn’t want to go in,” Lily said, sighing.

“Not on my own. I know what this –” a hoof rattled the locked door “– means.”

Lily  gulped. Trying to unlock said door, she dropped the key twice. Inside,  the same snowdrops, tulips, and lilacs failed utterly to cheer them up.

Truth  be told, she had slept a few winks last night, but she must have lain  there for hours, rolling and wriggling, demanding her brain shut off and  let her dream. How had her brain thanked her? By waking her up two  hours before breakfast. She always knew she had a defective between her  ears…

They went straight up the steps and peered in.

Daisy’s  limbs strewn as though she’d been placed there that very morning. Mouth  slightly open, permanently surprised by the universe. Sweat on her  forehead –

Wait… that’s new.

“She’s not…” Roseluck covered her hoof.

Lily squinted. “No. She’s still breathing. But you have to concentrate to see it.”

They  shut the door, unable to take it anymore, and sought comfort from each  other’s wide eyes, slack mouths, and overhanging, knitted brows like  blankets on their heads.

“I think we should call Nurse Redheart,” said Roseluck at once.

“No! No. That’s not gonna work.”

“What!? Why not!?”

“Well, um… what if Daisy wakes up? Wouldn’t we look stupid?”

“I’m willing to take that chance –”

Lily’s hoof gripped her upper forelimb before she passed. “Wait! Don’t panic! We’re not panicking! I’m not panicking!”

“We have to do something!”

“We will! We will! Let’s just… Let’s just give her a little longer, OK? Then we’ll call someone.”

Her hoof dropped. Roseluck smoothed her own mane down.

“I’ll give her that nasogastric tube thing,” said Roseluck.

“You think she'll need it?”

“She hasn't eaten anything for ages. I'm not taking that chance, and Doc left the stuff with us.”

“Um. Good. You do that then.”

Lily waited as patiently as she could outside the bedroom door while Roseluck grunted and moaned and fought with some plastic wiring. A little buzzing signalled success; Roseluck stepped out, definitely green as grass but otherwise remarkably composed for someone who'd just guided a tube up a sleeping nose.

Wisely, Lily refrained from asking how Roseluck had the technical know-how to do that. The girl did hang around Doc all the time, and the fewer grisly details Lily had to hear, the better.

“I'll change it in a bit and then check the stock books for last year.” On her way down, Roseluck added, “I hope we’re doing the right thing.”

You and me both. Lily peeked once more into the room, then slid the door shut and wandered back to the counter.





Throughout  the day, the florist’s was dull and lost its colour; the clouds through  the window refused to budge, stolid bodyguards of the gloom.

Five  minutes before closing time, Lily hurried forwards and flipped the sign  from “OPEN” to “CLOSED”. Of the three ponies who’d come in, none had  actually bought anything. Forget ‘em, she thought, desperate even within her own head to inject some semblance of the carefree.

Roseluck  didn’t look any better after she came out the backroom. If anything,  the long hours indoors had greased her mane something fierce, and there  were obvious knots dotting her coat where she’d rubbed continuously.

Wordless and wishing they could speak, both of them went up the stairs.

They  went right inside the bedroom and stood beside the bed. Both of them  stared. Despite themselves, and despite wondering how on earth they  could justify this if Daisy woke up and caught them at it, they couldn’t  help but stare. Daisy had told them what to do so often that they’d  felt like foals half the time. And now they felt like parents brooding  over a sickly daughter.

The tube didn't help. Nor did the little retractable stand thing that Doc had left them; Roseluck had come up here frequently to change the feeding bag, and the gooey yellow behind it reminded Lily too much of porridge crossed with sick and left to rot for a few days. The result of this presumably lifesaving procedure was to give the impression that Daisy was on her deathbed.

They stared. They wished they didn’t, and yet they couldn’t help it. Daisy had never looked so vulnerable, so weak…

Twice, Roseluck reached forwards to adjust her, but always drew back at the last second.

Eventually,  when the room began to darken under the promise of nightfall, Lily  said, “She must be faking it. I’ll bet anything as soon as we step  outside, she gets up, does whatever she wants to do, and then goes back  to look sleepy the instant she hears us.”

“I haven't seen her do anything but sleep.”

“She's getting up when you're not around, then. With or without that tube thing.”

“Why would she do that?” Roseluck whispered.

“Just to spite us.”

“All right. Then you can prove it. Wake her up.”

Lily shot a look at her. “What?”

“You heard me. Nudge her awake, or something.”

Lily, if anything, drew away a couple of steps. “I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

“We should call Nurse Redheart… or Doc…”

“Give  it one more day.” Lily forced her legs not to tremble, with such effort  that they trembled anyway. “One more day, and then we do it. We don’t  want… to blow this… out of proportion…”





Pummelling drops  soaked their manes to their heads the next morning. All around, the sky  was an unforgiving black. In a way, Lily was thankful. It meant she had  an excuse if anyone asked her why she shivered.

This time, the  front was already open. Hope rising, she splashed towards the dry  interior and through the unlit space and over the crashing stairs to  burst into the room –

And found Roseluck, standing over Daisy.

Nothing had changed.

Her groan left Lily staggering and she flopped onto the floor.

“She’s getting worse!” Roseluck’s voice shot up. “She’s getting worse! I've changed her feeding bag twice, but she's getting worse!”

Lily  jumped to her hooves. She prodded Daisy’s face and hastily wiped her  own hoof against the bedstead to remove any sweat. She stamped on the  floorboards, close to Daisy’s head. She shouted her name over and over.  She sang loud, boisterous national anthems. She rocked Daisy’s body so  hard she almost pushed it into the wall opposite.

Nothing had changed.

Groaning,  she let Daisy flow back and slopped onto the floor, wishing she could  faint and get away, just like Daisy was well away from the two of them. The ugly feeder buzzed nearby and yellow pulsed down the tube, and that was it.

Roseluck’s voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear it. “We should tell Goldengrape. We owe him that much.”

“NO!” Lily’s fear jolted; she sprang to her feet. “Are you mad!? He’ll go to pieces!”

“And we won’t!? Daisy would want us to let him know how she is!”

“We won’t know that, Roseluck, because Daisy’s not in a state to tell us what she wants! She’s not in a state to tell us anything!”

“Then we’ll call Nurse Redheart!”

“NO, NO, NOOO! That’s even worse! Then she’d be just like…” Lily gulped “…Mister Greenhooves.”

Roseluck’s hoof met her shoulder, and stayed there.

Against the window, the rain hammered on, demanding their attention, trying to get them to acknowledge the dark sky.

“Last  chance,” squeaked Roseluck, not meeting her eye. “This evening. If  she’s not… by that point… then we’re calling in Doc. And we are getting her back.”





An  hour before closing time, Lily threw up her hooves, marched over to the  door, and flipped the sign. And locked up. And drew any and all  curtains and blinds.

Instantly, the humdrum hours vanished down a  pit in her memory. As far as she was concerned, she’d jumped straight  from the morning check to the evening.

“Roseluck!” she called, and then she went upstairs without her.

The door. The bedroom. The bed.

Daisy.

Nothing had changed. Nothing was changing. Nothing was going to change. She was this close to tearing her mane out.

“OK,” she said the instant Roseluck stampeded through the door. “That’s it. Call the Doc. I’ll stay and watch over her.”

“But –” Roseluck threw her a frightened look.

Lily returned it.

When  the hoofsteps died away and Roseluck rattled the lock and the bell  tinkled and the door slammed, Lily was left with nothing but the  relentless reminders of rain on the window.

The darkness drained  the room of colours, as though twilight had no truck with anything  psychedelic, or colourful, or remotely life-affirming.

Out of  respect and as a sort of far-too-late apology, Lily did not give Daisy so much as a  glance. Instead, her nerves insisted she pace up and down. Once or  twice, she stopped to cock an ear. Only the faintest puffs over the  rainfall.

“Don’t panic,” she murmured. “Don’t panic. Don’t panic,  don’t panic, don’t panic don’t panic dopanicopanicopanic STOP IT! Don’t…  panic…” Deep breaths. The room started to wave and distort; the floor  lapped at the walls, which flexed around the ceiling. Angrily, she  cracked herself like a whip until the solids stayed solid. “Do. Not.  Panic. Do not panic. Do not panic.”

Her chest tightened. Thoughts of a heart attack ambushed her before she checked her pulse.

She swallowed again, hoping her fear would go down this time. The mantra eroded her mind: Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic…

To  her horror, she wanted to hit Daisy. Somewhere in her head, common  sense and courtesy left her behind. Daisy was the cause of all this;  that was what she understood.

But then… hadn’t she – Lily – been the cause of Daisy lying there, right now? After all, Daisy struggled the most against her and her stupid, stupid problems…

No.  Lily absolutely refused to give the guilt an inch. She was a doer, not a  worrier. She’d do something to make it right. She’d do something…

What, though, she had no idea.

Unable to stop herself, she looked at the bed. Daisy began twitching and wincing.

Lily opened her mouth to apologize, but nothing came out.

Eventually,  finally, shifting the weight off her mind, she heard the bell tinkle  downstairs. Heard their voices. Heard Roseluck and Doc, speaking as  urgently as she felt.





Lily sat beside the bed. It only seemed right. She hadn’t spoken the entire time, but neither had she tried looking at the bed.

His mane flat enough to be painted on, Doc gleamed while he set up the equipment and rolled out a spare blanket and pillow.

“Sorry  I couldn’t come sooner,” he said, voice muffled deep in the suitcase.  “I was trying to replicate the Oneiro-Scope so more than one of us could  get in, but the spell –”

Roseluck, hovering over him, backed off for a moment; he’d frozen.

“I mean, the design only works once.”

“What does that mean?” said Roseluck.

“I  mean I can’t replicate it,” said Doc lamely. “Limitations. Technical  limitations. Now… how ready are we feeling for this new frontier in  science-pony relations?”

Lily listened out for the faint puffs. They seemed to be getting fainter.

“Remind me again how this works?” she heard Roseluck say.

“Assuming  that Daisy’s trapped in an anomalous REM sleep phase, she’ll be  experiencing some quite powerful dreams. Emotions affect dreams, and if  this is stress-related, then she’ll be having some nigh-realistic  experiences in there. Possibly hallucinatory. Hard to tell without an  EEG.”

“An egg?” said Roseluck, puzzled.

“No, no, no. An EEG.  Electro-encephalo-graph. It’s a device that reads pony minds. We made one a while back, remember? Big and  clunky, and not perfect, it must be said –”

“Wow,” breathed Roseluck.

“–  and anyway, it doesn't work. A bit above my pay grade, I regret to say. Missing some vital components, and they don't come cheap, but by golly we came pretty close, eh?”

“Oh,” said Roseluck, ears wilting.

“Either way,  expect a lot of translation from Daisy’s inner thoughts and feelings to  the contents of her dreams. Three-level communication. Psychosomatic.”

Grimacing at his pompous word-dropping, Lily shook with the urge to look…

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Lily glanced at Daisy. Her chest was still rising and falling. The twitches and winces were becoming more frequent, though…

“Oh,  I know this one!” Roseluck cleared her throat. “The contents of the  dream will largely reflect the contents of the subject’s mind, though  they interact in complex and unpredictable ways.”

And now she paid closer attention, specks of sweat glinted on Daisy’s face…

“Spot  on! And should the patient come to understand the nature of the dream,  they’ll use the virtual experience as an allegorical aid when they wake  up and deal with an actual experience –”

Lily stamped her hoof.

“Don’t you understand?” She brought her hoof down on the side of the bed. “Daisy needs our help! Do something!”

They  heard the rain drumming on the rooftop. Cascades of runoff wiped the  window down, leaving shimmering lines reflected along the bed, along  Daisy’s belly, along her face now fading to a frown.

“What if she never wakes up?” said Lily quietly.

“B-B-But  she can,” stammered Doc. “That’s why I built the Oneiro-Scope.  Conventional waking techniques tend to be, uh… unreliable. Now, Luna’s  works suggest that it’s perfectly possible for ponies to cross over into  other reveries synchronously, though usually only when she lets them do  it.”

“And your machine can let us into her dream, can it?”  snapped Lily. She never understood what Roseluck saw in this stallion.  When he wasn’t gushing like a schoolboy at a candy store, he struck her  as the sort to throw around large words to hide how obvious his ideas  really were.

Doc shuffled on the spot. “One of us, one of us.”

“What good would that do?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Should she be locked in a sleep cycle feedback loop, an outside agent can open the loop again and –”

“He means,” piped up Roseluck, “if she gets stuck, someone can bring her back.”

Lily stared at Roseluck’s thorn of an expression. Little, but sharp and full of edges. She turned her gaze back to the bed.

Was  that the real cause, then? Somewhere inside that curly-maned head? The  real reason she stayed among her dreams for longer and longer, the  reason she’d been leaving the real world behind every night, for longer  and longer, over weeks and weeks?

Outrage sparked across Lily’s heart. What is she hiding? Why does she keep shutting us out?

A sting behind her eye. Hastily, she wiped the offending eyeball, lest anything come through.

“I suppose I could –” began Roseluck.

“I’ll do it,” said Lily.

“You!? But, but you never trust Doc’s machines.”

Lily rounded on her so fast her mane whipped her cheeks. “So? I’m going in there. I’m not always a coward.”

“I never said you were…”

No.  Everyone else does. This is my show now. If anyone else dares say I’m a  paranoid freak-out on legs after this, I’ll… I’ll… Well, they better  not say it, that’s all.

Mad, am I? We’ll see who’s mad when  I’ve jumped into a dream and dragged Daisy kicking and screaming out of  it. Oh yes, we’ll see who’s mad, then!

Sense only trickled in once her gaze caught the helmet in Doc’s grip. Frankly, Roseluck had a point.

“How does this work, then?” Lily said.

“Um…  you lie down on the floor and I put the helmet on. Daisy gets a helmet  too. Soon as you’re off to sleep, I’ll activate the harmonizer module –  here in the suitcase, with the flashing lights – and then modulate the  brainwave patterns –”

“We’ll get you into her dreams,” said Roseluck, opening the dresser.

Blanket and pillow lay on the planks. She reached forwards to guide Lily onto the floor.

“Hope the floor’s not too uncomfortable,” said Roseluck, blushing.

“So  I just go in, grab her, and get her out, right?” Lily grimaced; even  through the blanket wrapped around her, the floor was an ice block.  “Anyway, it’s only dreams. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Roseluck held her gaze for a moment. “Just promise me you’ll help her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s her dream. And she’s our friend.”

Lily didn’t reply. There wasn’t really anything she could, from the bottom of her heart, say to that.

“We’ll keep an eye on things from this end.” Roseluck wiped a few errant locks of hair out of Lily’s eyes.

From  the suitcase with the flashing lights, a click and a buzz. “All set,”  said Doc. “Now just relax and think sleepy thoughts. We’ll have you off  to the Land of Nod before you can say ‘REM sleep’.”

“Good luck,” was all Roseluck managed.

Lily didn’t even smile. While she closed her eyes and willed herself to wind down, she wondered if she’d need any luck at all.

At the end of the day, they were only dreams, right?

In the darkness, she felt the hard floor press against her back for hours before her mind became a confused blur.




> Mysteries of the Pony Psyche
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lily opened her eyes and met a green blur. She focused.

Everything  below her knees was tight with pressure. Grimly, she raised a leg and  heard the gloopy slosh of water full of too much gunk. Beneath her, a  scummy green reflection looked back as though pleading for a less  algae-infested place to reflect her in.

Strangely, although there was definite pressure on her scalp and ears, no helmet met her dripping hoof when she raised it up to check.

No  noises cut through the tangles of green overhead. Occasional stems the  width of her own legs rose up or ran along the water’s surface, but  several yards ahead and – she glanced back to check – behind gave way to  pure blackness. She looked up. There was no sky: merely more blackness  above the tangles.

“OK…” she said. Sans any echo, the voice was flat and slapped onto the world like a belly flop. “Now what?”

Daisy was nowhere.

Too many minutes of eerie silence passed before she began walking.

“So…”  she said, hoping if she talked to herself she wouldn’t try bolting out  of the world altogether, “you dream of swamps, Daisy? Daisy, can you  hear me? Daisy?”

The water barely rippled around her. As she went  further… further… well, she supposed “further in”, though she couldn’t  tell what was “in”, what was “out”, and for that matter what anything  was even “about”… As she went further, she noticed the branching of the  stems. Little round things topped most of the branches, like transparent  leaves. They had a toothy look.

Getting out seemed a really great idea.

Except she didn’t know how.

Hadn’t  Doc covered it? They’d spoken about it as though getting Daisy out  would be as easy as dragging her through a door, but now she was in the  actual dream – if this was Daisy’s, at least – she had no idea what such  a door would even look like.

Two crisscrossing stems barred her path. She sloshed her way around them and went on.

Nah,  perhaps she was being too hasty. After all, everyone woke up sooner or  later. If Daisy was stuck, Lily was going to help her out…

…somehow…

…and then they’d just wake up. They would just wake up, right?

She  clung to those words – “stuck”, “help her out”, “dragging her through a  door” – because they made sense. So she forced herself to ignore the  little warning voice in the back of her head insisting that this was a dream, and dreams had the same relationship with sense as Lily had with epic adventures or her own grandma in the care home.

The  further she went, the more the world around her changed. Stems which  had competed like trees for space now gave way to a stretch of darkness,  during which she sloshed her way as though she knew where she was  going. Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own, and when the first  of the new plants loomed out of the blackness – it was like a solid mist  – they stopped her for a moment.

A crowding mass of stems rose  out of a central point. Looking down from high, high above, somewhere in  the gathering of green, were purple flowers. To her feverish  imagination, their yellow interiors were glowing eyes.

She swore  as she passed that the flowers shuffled. She looked up. The glowing eyes  looked back. They kept watching her back even as they disappeared into the  blackness behind her.

More of the masses of stems surged out and past. In between them, Lily was an ant among shrubs.

Still no sign of Daisy.

Where was the girl?

Where was she, come to that?

Unbidden,  the thoughts crept up her spine and tiptoed around her brain and  whispered, ready to flee should they not be welcomed. What, after all,  was she going to do even if she brought Daisy back? They’d wake up –  presumably – and get up, and Daisy may or may not say “thank you”, and  then…

Well, and then what? Daisy goes back to sleeping more and  more often, starting the whole thing again? Lily shook her head to  dislodge the biting thought, but it merely buzzed aside to let another  one bite.

Or Daisy stops talking to her at all? It wasn’t as if she, Lily, had been invited.

Or  Daisy miraculously gets better and then they live happily ever after.  The thought swatted vigorously at the others, but she could smell the  fetid desperation. Else that was just the swamp. She was sure this was a  swamp.

Nonetheless, she walked on. At least the watching purple  flowers with the glowing eyes were a dash of colour here, and they  didn’t do anything. They were plants. Byblis gigantea, if she  wasn’t mistaken. Pretty exotic. All the way from Didgeridoo, she  fancied. Not bad: Daisy dreamt interestingly, at least.

Lily  sighed. Nothing else for it. She simply had to come into the dream. Had  to. Not going in – leaving Daisy on the bed like some abandoned child –  was not an option.

Those biting thoughts pointed out: neither was getting stuck in someone else’s dream. But she batted them aside.

Eventually, even these plants were gone. She’d left them far behind. Darkness dominated over the scummy water.

A fresh waft of honey greeted her nose.

Now  this was more like it! Lily breathed deeply, letting the sweet scent  ooze through her head. For as long as it lasted, she felt the sun’s heat  on her flanks, saw the dazzling brightness and the swaying of the  meadow, heard Daisy’s excited talking and Roseluck’s giddy laughter from  a summer long ago –

New plants loomed up before her.

She stopped.

Teeth grinned back.

They  were a field of red and green streaks. Bulbous little sacks sitting on  top of the water, they were each topped by a rim of spiky white and red  shaded beneath a hairy leaf. The effect was of a psychopathic clam.

All of them looked like fangs glad to see her.

Water sloshed under her; she backed off –

No, no, wait a moment… I know those… they’re much too big, but… Cephalotus follicularis?

Another Didgeridoo species. What is this? Daisy’s giving herself a mental holiday?

Knowing  the plant, and suspecting she’d hit the right direction if she went on  long enough, she braced herself and waded in. Bristly hairs caught on  her coat, and the honey smell did little to alleviate the bumping of  hard buckets of green and red on either side. They were as willing to  shift as bamboo baskets nailed to the floor.

“Daisy!” she called.

No echo. No answer. Not that she’d really expected one.

Well,  it could have been worse, she supposed. At least she knew plants,  though not when she was apparently the size of a daisy by comparison. At  least plants didn’t make comments about her hypersensitivity. At least  they wouldn’t leave her, if only because they had no legs and not even a  brain to think about leaving. At least they were still there when she  came back.

Which was funny, she reflected, during her attempts not  to get beaten back by a particularly stubborn bucket of green-and-red;  she didn’t really believe Ponyville was going to drop her and her  friends like a used hanky. They’d still have a job. They’d still be  needed for special days, provided they didn’t go bankrupt first. It  wasn’t as if they’d really starve to death.

It didn’t give her much comfort.

There were other kinds of death, she thought, and had always thought. One day, she’d wake up and she’d find she – she – was dead to other ponies.

Because she’d say the wrong thing.

Because she’d panic one time too many.

Because she’d let them down if she didn’t keep an eye on trouble.

Because  – perhaps most likely because – she’d simply prove what a shallow,  selfish, irredeemable little attention-seeker she was, deep down, and  had been the whole time, and would be, because as soon as she thought  she’d mastered bravery, another monster attack or another round of  trampled flowers would knock her back to her foalhood, and she’d be  there. Lily. Fainting at fuchsias again.

“Daisy!” she called.

Finally,  the field of buckets gave way to green waters again. At least waters  didn’t rasp at her coat, though the chill came pretty close.

Green waters had it all to themselves for a moment.

Then even bigger buckets loomed over her.

Amid  a tangled mass of stems and branches, these buckets were the size of  houses. Velvet red lapels rimmed the gaping mouth. Every single  monstrous bulb held up a leaf like a vegetable rooftop. Now the honey  stench was her nose drowning under all the sugar. Her head tingled  against each breath.

She shivered. Roseluck’s, aha, “favourite”. Nepenthes. Just Nepenthes.  She didn’t inspect them any more finely than that. Even she got the  creeps just knowing they were there, and she kept her head down.

“Daisy!” she called out. “Daisy! Daisy, where are you!?”

More walls of speckled green surged past on either side, a village of Nepenthes half-concealed within the boggy jungle.

“Daisy!” Her voice cracked. “I want to go home! Where are you!?”

Her  walk turned into a canter. Violent splashes yelled angrily at her, but  the old panic insisted this was top priority. Stumbling, she forced  herself to keep going straight ahead, to look around, to snatch some  lifeline clue out of the tangle.

“Daisy! Quit HIDING from me! DAISY!”

“Lily?”

She skidded to a halt. Ears rose on her head.

“Daisy,  is that you?” Her gaze darted from bucket to bucket. She didn’t dare  spin around, lest she lose her sense of direction. “Daisy! DAISY!”

“What are you doing here?”

Her ears triangulated, swivelling like alert sniffer dogs. Sounded like it came from over there…

In  her rising panic, she went from a standing start to a gallop in a  single breath. “DAISY! I’m coming for you! Hold on! Hold on!”

“What? You’re not part of the dream?”

“No! I’m real! Come on, I want to get out of here!”

“Then go. Now.”

“Hold on! I’m coming to help you!”

“No! I want to be left alone. Go back. Can’t you take a hint?”

Under her cloak of fear, a dagger of fury glinted. “A hint? Do  you know how long it’s been –” She yelped, hitting the surface with her  chin and belly, before scampering back to a gallop. “Do you know how  long you’ve been gone?”

“N… No…?”

Finally, the Nepenthes  and the stems fell behind. Darkness and swamp led her to an emerging  hump of an island. Panting and wheezing, she leaped onto the bank and  all the energy went out of her and she flopped, dribbling green and  feeling the rustle of grass under her heaving chest.

“Thank… goodness,” she murmured in between breaths.

She looked up and met Daisy’s glower coming the other way.




> We Shall Not Sit Idly By
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roseluck paced up and down the bedroom, trying to do so without  looking either at the bed or at the floor. They’d been still for ages.  Apart from the slightest puffs of air whispering to her ear, she  couldn’t even tell they were alive.

Nearby, Doc hunched over his suitcase. Occasionally, he’d tap a display or hum to himself, but he  wasn’t fidgeting or chewing his lip or trying to quell the rising,  restless instinct to run off and panic. She’d insisted he look away from  the other two, though. Sure, she knew he was either interested in  symptoms or checking the machinery, nothing more, but it always looked intrusive when his gaze focused on their sleeping faces.

And  she was shaking. Anything to stop her getting jumpy was all right by  her. Even she ought to walk out of the room and close the door gently,  except… Well, who’d keep an eye on her friends then?

No. Best leave it to Doc. He knew what he was doing. At least he had an actual reason to be there.

Trying  to stop herself from breathing desperately, she broke her pacing and  hurried over to Daisy’s desk. Flowerpots and a few droopy…

She stopped and stared.

This  was entirely the wrong climate to grow them in, and the pot was so  watery it’d slosh over the brim if she knocked it. Clustered over the  top of it were a mass of green tangles. Among the tangles…

Jaws. Green teeth. Gaping traps.

Roseluck shuddered. “Goodness,” she murmured. “You really were macabre, weren’t you, Daisy?”

Beneath  the plant, a herbal guidebook was open. She nudged it aside and saw  several more open books underneath. Either Daisy had been keeping tabs  on several topics, or she was learning to read X-ray style.

Thankful for something to do, she picked the first one up and looked at the cover.

“Really, really macabre.” She grimaced and almost dropped it onto the ground in her haste.

The next book was blue and red. On the top were the words: Rare Plants of Didgeridoo. Another book beneath that was a travel guide to the same continent.

Roseluck stared. Not once had Daisy ever mentioned this. Not Didgeridoo. Not the… strange plants. Not even the travel.

“What were you planning?” said Roseluck.

Which under the circumstances was really, really, really stupid, and she knew as much the instant she asked. Typical, stupid Roseluck, she thought. Can’t even put two and two together.

Finally, she spun round. “Oh, Doc! Isn’t there anything we can do!?”

Frowning, Doc looked up from his suitcase. “But we are. We’re monitoring the situation and awaiting further developments.”

“You know what I mean!”

Doc  cocked his head and pouted: the classic “I’m thinking very seriously  about what you just said” look. It was a look that’d never pass through a  lie detector unscathed.

“We should get a takeaway?” he tried. “While we wait?”

She slapped her forehead, since she could never quite bring herself to slap him. “No! Daisy needs our help! We can’t just sit here doing nothing.”

“My  dear Roseluck, patience is a virtue in the sciences. It takes a lot of  painstaking effort and a willingness to let Nature dictate the speed of  –”

“Forget Nature! Daisy’s never done this before. Oh, don’t you  understand? We’re losing her! I can put up with some of the time she  spends on her own and our going off doing other things. Once in a while.  But what if something’s got her? What if she doesn’t wake up? I don’t  want to have to tell anyone I did nothing. I don’t!”

She  hated the way he stared at her. As if it wasn’t enough she sounded like a  petulant child complaining to mommy, he just had to lend the memory  time to sink in. Already, the blush gripped her cheeks.

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I suppose it can’t hurt to speculate…”

And  as though she hadn’t just exploded under the sheer burning and  tightening of the pressure, he turned his back on her and looked at the  bed and rubbed his chin as though contemplating calculus. She almost  screamed; she certainly puffed her lips up and muffled it to a shrill  groan.

“Very well,” he said. “Perhaps another metaphor would  suffice for our purposes.” He stamped once. “I got it! Roseluck, imagine  we are detectives.”

Her trembling efforts to scream and not scream cancelled each other out. “What?”

“Detectives.”  Doc began pacing in her stead while she stared. “There has been a  crime. Our friend Daisy has been struck down by some unknown and  nefarious force –”

“Good gosh, no!”

“Now now now, don’t  worry, don’t worry!” He flapped his hoof to placate her. “I don’t mean a  real force! It’s just personification!”

Roseluck blinked at him, frozen in a half-rear.

“Pretending  it’s an actual crime,” he explained, “committed by an actual criminal. I  just meant something caused Daisy to enter her long sleep.”

By now, whatever had geared her up went ping. Roseluck sagged.

“Now,” Doc continued, giving her a smile, “what are the facts as we know them?”

Ah,  now this she could answer. Roseluck walked past him – floorboards  tapping gently under each hoof – and draped her forehooves over the foot  of the bed. On the floor, Lily was dribbling out of the corner of her  mouth.

“Um…” she said.

“Rule one of detective work,” said Doc sharply: “never disturb the scene of the crime.”

“Oh.” Roseluck got down at once. “Sorry.”

“Rule two: gather the preliminary facts of the victim from their nearest and dearest, i.e. those who knew them well.”

“But Lily’s out like a light! And I don’t even know any of Daisy’s relatives. Except maybe her sister, but she’s –”

She even heard him drag his hoof over his face. “I meant you.”

“I  knew that,” she said quickly, but she refused to turn around; her face  felt hot enough as it was. “I don’t know what I can say. She was mopey  and sad and she kept turning down invitations and not talking to us like  she used to.”

“How long for?”

Daisy’s mouth hung open, but  only slightly. Small, like a child’s. Roseluck longed to close it. Sure,  Daisy had turned her back on them the last few –

“I don’t know. Weeks? Months? It was a very long time. I don’t even remember when we all hung out together. All three of us.”

“Anything correlate with the observed phenomenon?”

“I’m  sorry?” And her torso really was quite small… and the nasogastric tube was a tiny thread too easily snapped… Daisy should look more  dignified instead of looking like she was dropped onto the bed…

“Was anything else happening at the time?” said Doc patiently.

“Yeah. The business wasn’t doing well. But we have times like that. I don’t see why it should mean anything this particular –”

“Does she have a history of depression?”

Roseluck spun round. “Depression? Come on, Doc. That’s going a bit far.”

“You just said she was ‘mopey’.” Doc stroked his chin. “‘Mopey’? What an odd word. Do you think it’s foreign?”

“She was a bit sad, maybe, but depression’s a whole different basket of roses.”

“Maybe it’s French? Derived from ‘moper’, perhaps? Or ‘mopé’?”

“Look, so she’s not… as excitable as Lily –”

Or me, she added in her head, though “excitable” is not the same as saying “easily scared”, right?

“–  but that doesn’t mean she’s… I dunno, a depressive or something. That’s  like saying you’ve got split personality because you sometimes talk to  yourself.”

“Of course, then we’d have to find out what ‘mopé’  means. I’m sorry, Roseluck? Drifted off there, somewhat. What were you  saying about your talking to yourself?”

“I was just making the point –” Roseluck’s ears cut off her mouth for a moment. “Hey! I do not talk to myself!”

Beaming triumphantly, Doc added, “No need to be ashamed. Lots of ponies talk to themselves. While they work, for example.”

Now she felt her ears burning red. “That’s different.”

“How, exactly?”

After a brief struggle, she said, “I… was talking to my flowers.”

“No need to be ashamed,” said Doc happily.

“It’s only per-sychological. It’s not like I think they can talk back.” Not since the age of seven, at any rate.

“Never said any different. I myself often conduct long and frighteningly eloquent conversations with my toolkit.”

“Erm… I don’t think it counts if you say things like ‘Turn the blasted screw, you confounded piece of junk.’”

“One  of the mysteries of the pony psyche,” said Doc while he ferreted around  in his suitcase, “is why we instinctively speak to inanimate objects,  knowing full well it’s fruitless. I myself suspect it’s because we have  an extremely hard time not believing the world is out to get us.  Sabotage was at the forefront of my mind in many cases, I noticed, such  as the time when I believed that the screwdriver was deliberately trying  to wind me up.”

And the conversation died there. Really, she had no answer to a comment like that. Not one Roseluck liked, anyway.

She  turned back to the bed, forcing herself to watch a spectacle that was  as exciting as… well, as watching someone sleep while wearing a funny  helmet. She glanced down at Lily, whose folded forelimbs were slowly  sliding off her chest and down her midriff.

Roseluck wanted to  believe there was something outside all this. Some external force, like  Doc said, being nefarious at them. She wanted it so badly that her limbs  turned white where they squeezed the bedstead. Because the idea that  this was Daisy, all Daisy, and Daisy’s choice, slowly killed her like a  poisoned clover, bleaching her of all colour and feeling.

Perhaps Lily was right, and there was some depression-eating monster.

Trouble  was that the phrase “Lily was right” didn’t feature much in her  experience. And she was desperate if she was taking Lily’s ramblings and  holding on to them.

Daisy looked so tired. Even in a restful  sleep, she suggested that every cell in her body was sighing and sinking  further into the bed. Out of sympathy, Roseluck’s own eyelids drooped.

“Bogged down,” she murmured under her breath.

“Sorry?” Doc’s bag muffled his voice.

“Daisy  told me once she was feeling bogged down.” Meanwhile, Daisy’s chest  rose and fell so gently Roseluck had to concentrate to notice the pulse.  “Mired in her work, she said.”

“Mired?”

“I think she was  just being poetic.” Roseluck rested her chin on her hooves. “Look at how  she sleeps. It’s like she’s in a coma.”

“That’s it!”

Doc’s voice rose so fast she yelped and bounced off the bedstead.

“What?” She glanced round. “What?”

Hooves seized her by the cheeks, and Doc’s manic grin filled her mind, doing absolutely nothing for her nerves.

“We  have a potential test case!” He hurried through his speech. “Once we  have precedent, we can trace as well as we can the exact progression of  the disease, or crime if you will! We have a lead! We have our first  task as detectives!”

“Wh’d t’sk?” said Roseluck between smushed cheeks.

“To talk to the pony who went to sleep for longer and longer: just like Daisy!”

And  with that fell comment, his idea smashed into the roots of her thought  and watched it groan and topple with a crash. Leaves of smaller ideas  hissed and shook. Her entire mind echoed with the shockwaves.

She pulled back and popped out of his grip. “No way!”

“Yes way! It’s the perfect parallel!” Doc sniffed, slightly miffed.

“You’re not talking about Mister Greenhooves!”

“Who else would I be talking about? Rainbow Dash of the Wonderbolts?” He stroked his chin again. “Although now you mention it…”

Roseluck  stamped her hoof. She’d put up with a lot around him, up to and  including his bad habit of forgetting space boundaries and grabbing  something in excitement, but They Did Not Talk About Mister Greenhooves.

“This  case is nothing like his!” she said with a conviction that  half-startled herself. “His was weird and a fluke and no one knew what  happened and Daisy is not going to end up in a coma!”

She was breathing heavily. Doc looked like a child who’d lost his newly won carnival toy.

“Roseluck?” he said.

“What?” Then she drew back. “I mean… Sorry. What is it?”

Sighing  with relief, he continued, “It’s the closest lead we’ve got, and there  are uncanny parallels between the two. For Daisy’s sake, shouldn’t we at  least give it a fair shot?”

“But… But we can’t talk to him.” Roseluck raised the point like a shield.

Effortlessly,  Doc’s smile reached out and guided the shield back onto the ground.  “Then we can try the next best thing, and if nothing comes of it, we  come back here and stand around looking hopeful. Sound like a good  bargain?”

Roseluck did not immediately look at Daisy and Lily, not even when Lily gave a lone snore. She made a point of not looking.

“Nothing will  come of it,” she said, but she knew she shouldn’t talk like this. Her  insides twisted and tangled themselves up. It was not smart to talk like  this. Not sciency.

Doc snapped his suitcase shut. “Never give up  hope, my dear Roseluck. Now… do you want to be the Sherluck, or do you  want to be the Trotson?”

More pressing issues weighed down her thoughts, but a smaller one slipped out of the scrum. “What on earth are they supposed to be?”

“Don’t ask me: just a couple of names related to detective work. Probably foreign. Shall we make a move?”




> Scaredy-Pants
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite herself – despite the fact, for a start, that not once had  she felt the least bit heroic in the last however-long-it-was – Lily  laughed so triumphantly she almost cackled.

“I found you!” she said. “Thank goodness I found you!”

“What are you doing here, Lily?” said Daisy curtly.

Lily  hesitated. By this point, she was already mentally awarding herself a  medal, a bouquet, and a round of applause. Curt questions didn’t feature  in that fantasy.

“I came to rescue you,” she said. “Didn’t I?”

Daisy frowned. “Rescue?”

“You’ve been asleep for days. Something dreadful must have happened.”

They  both took in the surrounding grass of the lump-of-an-island, the  algae-thick ooze sitting quietly below, and the omnipresent dark mist  which, in spite of being black and lurking, wasn’t technically doing  anything rescue-worthy.

“Didn’t it?” Lily added hopefully.

Daisy  turned and ambled over to the far side of the island, a distance of  about five yards. If she was stranded, she wasn’t exactly leaping and  galloping with panic over it.

“No,” she whispered, and she sat down with her back to Lily.

“No what?”

“Trust  me, I’m grateful, and it’s nice of you… I think… but… I didn’t ask you  to come in. How did you get here anyway? You could still be part of the  dream, whatever you say, but I’m curious.”

Lily’s mind struggled  up till the last part, which at least her brain had a chance of  answering. “Er, Doc made some kind of machine.”

“And you trusted him?”

“No.” No hesitation there.

“I thought you’d asked Luna for help, or something.”

“Yes, well,” muttered Lily, “according to Rose, we’re not important enough.”

“Uh huh. And even though it was Doc telling you to do it, you still went ahead and did it?”

“Doc didn’t tell  me to do it. I came up with the idea on my own. All he did was supply  the means.” Lily hated seeing the back of her friend, so she ambled  over. “Come on, Daisy, this isn’t funny anymore. I hate it here. Let’s  go home and forget all about this.”

“Fine.” Daisy shifted so her back was still prominent. “You go home then. I’m staying.”

“I don’t know how to go home!”

Surprise opening her eyes and mouth, Daisy’s head spun round to catch her. “You don’t?”

“No!  Doc made it sound so easy right up until I actually did it! He just  asked me to find you and bring you back. I thought it was going to be  like one of those games where it’s over as soon as you’ve won.”

Daisy  looked as though she’d been struck. Then she recovered, hardened like  cooling volcanic basalt, and whirled her head back round so fast that  her curls swiped at Lily’s snout.

“‘As soon as you’ve won’,” she  grumbled. “Listen, Lily: I like it here. No obligations. No  distractions. No fake cheer or encouragement. Just me, my mind, and  whatever drifts by.”

Sitting in a swamp, Lily thought, screwing up her face.

“I’m not a prize for you to boast about.”

Lily spluttered. “I never said you were!”

“Really? When you were in such a hurry to come here and rescue me, did you once think to ask what I might want? I notice you still haven’t asked, by the way.”

“You were asleep for days.”  Lily’s mind tangled and became gnarled trying to keep up. Shame  insisted she hadn’t once thought about what Daisy might want, but then  when had Daisy ever wanted a lie-in of this magnitude?

Daisy’s ear swivelled, listening for a response.

“So…” said Lily, hoping to make some sense if she pressed on, “how long are you gonna stay here?”

“As long as it takes.”

“As long as what takes?”

Furiously, Daisy rounded on her. “What do you think? Is there anything good going on at the moment?”

“Huh?”

Daisy’s  scowl, wielded in the manner of a pair of garden shears, smoothed down  to a ploughshare. “You don’t think there’s anything… wrong with us?”

Understanding  dawned. Grinning with relief, Lily said, “Oh, you shouldn’t pay any  attention to that, Daisy. It’s just ponies not thinking things through.  If we weren’t careful, after all –”

“Not that. I meant,” said Daisy, and she paused to cough, “the other thing.”

“What? The business?”

“Yes. The business.” Daisy swallowed. “Who are we, Lily?”

“Oh no,” groaned Lily, “don’t tell me you’ve got memory loss too!”

“What!? No! Of course not!” Irritably, Daisy waved her forelimb to bat the words away. “What I’m saying is…”

Without  a sound, without any kind of lifelike signal, the darkness and the  swamp loomed around them as though closing in on her struggling lips.

“…supposing we weren’t there anymore?”

“Weren’t where?” said Lily, fascinated despite the frantic shivers coming up from her spine.

“Well,  there was a florist’s before us, with other ponies taking care of it.  There’ll be another florist’s after us, again with different ponies.  There are florists’ all over Equestria, and some of them must be better  than ours. Goodness knows how many Ponyville ponies alone know enough  about flowers to give us a run for our money.”

Usually never quick  on the uptake, Lily jumped from lead-in to conclusion. “Oh, Daisy,” she  rushed to say, “we’re not that badly off. This is just a temporary  slump. We’ll be back in business soon enough.”

“Really? Because there’s some universal law that’ll put us there and keep us there? Or because you want us to be there?”

“Huh?”

Daisy  stood up so fast she almost levitated herself, stiff-legged, leaning  forwards. “There’s no safety net! If we fail, we fail! Don’t you get it?  And I’m the one running the place. I’m responsible if things go up or down, or stop altogether.”

“Er…”  Lily didn’t dare sigh with relief. She’d been tripping over in her  efforts to keep up, but now she’d gripped the answer, it seemed an  extremely bad idea to let go of it too soon. “Daisy, it’s not like that  –”

“How do you know?”

In the empty swamp, the words belly-flopped onto her ear. Daisy was close enough to breathe on her face.

Tiptoeing  carefully, Lily put a couple of yards between them and licked her lips.  “Let’s just go home now, please? We’re worried about you.” She thought,“Worried?” I’m scared stiff, for a start. Those eyes!

To her relief and surprise, she saw Daisy deflate where she stood. The wind had definitely gone out of her, at least.

“Oh, all right,” said Daisy. “I suppose I wasn’t really getting anywhere, anyway.”

“You can’t go back looking like that,” said Lily. “What would Rose think if she saw you with that sour face?”

“She can think what she likes,” said Daisy to her feet. “Maybe I’ll think clearer once I’m out of here. Which way’s the exit?”

Both of them looked around. Black mist. Green swamp. Grass lump.

“I have no idea,” said Lily.

Daisy shrugged. “Well, I guess we better look for one. Which way did you come from?”

“Same answer.”

“What?”

“I have no idea.”

Growling, Daisy spun round and ambled towards a random patch of swamp. “We’d better start looking, then.”

“In fact, I kinda like it on this island. Nothing’s happening to us here.”

“So now you see it my way?” Daisy grunted. “Come on, Scaredy-Pants. At least the walk might be interesting.”

Lily  bristled. The words “Scaredy-Pants” had snuck around her ears a lot  lately. Usually when their backs were turned. And although she’d gladly  own up to treating snapped stems more histrionically than she’d treat,  say, murder, something about being labelled for it struck at her very  heart.

After all, she did other things. She wrote poetry, though  in the interests of health and safety not where anyone was likely to  find it. She’d once dreamed of going to university, except that’d mean not failing school first. She never forgot anyone’s birthday, even if she  never actually did anything for them. She genuinely liked dusting and  polishing at home; it gave her some structure to her weekends. And  dozens and dozens of other things, other varieties of flower and shrub  and tree within the garden of her personality.

So what did everyone do? Go straight to the withered little weed marked “Coward”. Or “Yellow-Belly”. Or “Scaredy-Pants”.

Teeth sinking into her lower lip, Lily followed the splashes, aiming daggers at her friend’s back.




> Diagnosis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roseluck stood in the hospital reception area and tried not to touch anything. Not even the seats.

In  theory, she was all for modern medicine, hospitals, and doctors. They  saved lives; to her, there was no higher calling. Her brain agreed to  this. Her heart, stomach, and bladder did not. They objected to any  medic trying to look at them directly, and insisted she keep an eye on all such  medics. So long, of course, as the eye itself was not also being examined.

“Ah,”  sighed Doc, lounging on his chair with all the ease she didn’t have.  “Behold the inner sanctum of science’s greatest triumph. Marvellous,  isn’t it?”

“Are we staying long?” moaned Roseluck. Around them,  ponies sat and bore unnatural things. Bandaged wings. Neck braces. Most  of all, legs in casts; ponies were adapted to long, thin limbs for  running, “long and thin” meant “easily broken”, and “easily broken”  meant “look out for that stone!”

“Oh, Roseluck, tsk tsk tsk! Here is a place where modern science – modern medicine – saves countless lives.”

Roseluck  inched a little way from a mare with a particularly long cast on each  left leg. Yes, modern medicine saved lives, but she wished they saved  lives without all the needles, the blood, and the unhealthy  non-squeamish fascination with pony bodies. Like hers.

The  receptionist glanced up and waved at them. Roseluck narrowed her eyes. A  wave like that meant nothing good; any medic trying to get chummy was  up to something.

Worse, she was still not sure leaving the  florist’s was right. They’d left the two girls unsupervised, albeit briefly, which was  bad. So she’d left a note, saying: “Gone investigating. If you wake up,  please find me and tell me I needn’t bother.” Right now, she believed in  the last part.

If they could read it: she’d given her best  mouth-writing, but the pen had shaken and the result was a bit curly and hard to read.

Doc had  offered to use his hooves at the time. Just like he was now, flicking through  one of those hospital brochures: the ones which reminded visitors of  all the awful diseases that had yet to hunt them down.

“How can you do that?” she muttered.

“I  always try to use my hooves when I can,” said Doc airily. “Mouths are  all right, but if we were meant to use them for everything, then we  wouldn’t produce so much spittle all the time. No, the future belongs to  the hoof.”

“The thing that touches the ground all the time?”

“What?”

Roseluck rolled her eyes. “No, I meant: how can you be so calm?”

“I  love it here! Having involved myself in all manner of scientific  revolutions, I’ve regularly visited this place. So often, in fact, that  the nurses all know me by name. This is a temple of science.”

She  quietly shelved the “nurses all know me by name” bit. Feeling her  forelimb sting at the memory, Roseluck said, “You’ve never been  vaccinated, have you?”

“Nonsense! I love being vaccinated! It’s so  fascinating to imagine all those myriad little chemicals piercing the  defences of your skin to spread through the complex liquids flowing deep  inside you.”

Roseluck’s cheeks bulged urgently.

“And of course, there were all those head injuries I sustained after one too many scientifically designed explosions.”

Hoping he didn’t see, she turned away and pulled a face. Good grief! Anyone who gets skull trauma and comes to this place for help definitely needs their head examined.

Apparently,  there were lots of ponies like Doc who saw the world this way. She  considered this desire to actually take an interest in medicine to be a  failure of ponydom over the animals. At least vets guaranteed their  charges didn’t like the idea. Anything else was unnatural.

Again,  she willed herself to be calm.

This was not even remotely like sciency thinking. But she was on edge, and teetering further like an amateur ballerina.

Once  she’d locked the florist’s up – which was secure, and therefore good –  Doc had coaxed her every step of the way to the Ponyville General  Hospital. Best to get it over with. They’d gone straight to the  reception desk and asked after Mister Greenhooves, which made her feel  stupid, since he was almost certainly stuck in his coma.

Then Doc  had argued a bit at the receptionist, since they didn’t actually want to  visit, but to ask questions, which – as far as the nurses were  concerned – constituted a waste of valuable time. Nurse Redheart herself  needed to attend to three patients before she had a hope of seeing  anyone, and even then only for five minutes and solely because that was  her coffee break.

The phrase “waiting list” had seen a lot of  usage. It was uncanny; most Ponyvillians had a fantasy in their heads  from kindergarten that doctors were Your Best Friend and you went in and  got diagnosed and given a magic medicine, and then everything was better  and thus ended the Hospital Adventure Of The Day. Thanks to  Doc, Roseluck knew the hospital did operate a little like the playbook  fantasy version, this being the wonderful land of Equestria and all, but  only because the staff broke their backs trying to keep it that way.

But then  Roseluck had slammed a hoof down. She’d told them about Daisy, or  rather screamed it at them. Not that the receptionist had been visibly  impressed under those drooping eyelids, but she’d sent a runner to let  Nurse Redheart know, and the message came back that they should wait and that  this had better be worth a missed coffee break.

Finally, Nurse  Redheart herself bustled in. Such was the mark of a harried nurse that  she couldn’t even stand to attention without suggesting a lot of barely  repressed bustle lurking under the surface.

“Yes?” she snapped. “What do you want? We’re all busy at the moment.”

Doc  hopped off his seat faster than any excited schoolboy could have  managed. “Nurse Redheart! An absolute joy to reunite with someone who’s  seen my insides!”

“Hello, you,” she replied dully.

Roseluck shrank back. To her, Nurse Redheart had the air of one ready to dismiss anything non-fatal as “all in the mind”, which in her mind full of bustle was a hanging offence.

Also, Roseluck… didn’t like the way Doc spoke to the nurse.

“Alas,  my dear Redheart!” he said. “You’ve praised my lungs, you’ve praised my  guts, you’ve even had occasion to praise my brains –”

“Sarcastically,” muttered the nurse.

“– but yet have I to hear you praise myself!”

“What  do you want, Doc?” Nurse Redheart glared at him. “First minute of five down,  you know. I haven’t got a lot of coffee breaks today.”

“It’s about  my friend,” said Roseluck just as Doc took a breath. “She’s been  sleeping for longer and longer times, and now we can’t wake her up, and I  don’t know why. She's been asleep for days now. Doc thinks – We think that she might be like Mister Greenhooves.”

Now  Nurse Redheart turned the glare onto her. Then again, to work in a hospital  probably demanded an iron constitution. Roseluck wished she had one.

“Only…” Roseluck swallowed. “Only you were the one who looked after him… so, we thought if we asked you a few… questions?”

She really hated that glare. Nurse Redheart looked like the sort of pony who, if  she went to the theatre, would glare at the audience as though defying  them to find anything in life entertaining.

“Days, you said?” murmured the nurse. “The average pony would barely last three without a drink. You're keeping her fed and watered, then?”

“We did set up a nasogastric tube thing, yeah.”

“Oh, really. Anything else?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Listen, you should consult with a doctor if you want a professional diagnosis. Arrange a home visit, if it worries you that much. What do you really expect me to tell you?”

That the two cases are nothing alike and I’m being jumpy. “That there might be something we should watch out for? Please, she’s my friend. I don’t want this to get worse.”

“I appreciate that, but again: why not talk to a doctor?”

Roseluck  shrugged helplessly. A little part of her mind was wondering if the  nurse had a point, but then up till now it had let Lily and Doc take the reins. And it really didn’t like the way Doc smiled at this grumpy nurse.

“Come now, Redheart!” he said cheerfully. “Any excuse to see my favourite medically-minded mare in the flesh, eh?”

Roseluck felt a swift, shameful urge to kick him for that.

“Look,”  snapped Nurse Redheart. “There’s a small matter of nurse-patient  confidentiality here. You seriously expect me to hand over an old  stallion’s private details for some half-baked science project? Mister  Greenhooves was showing his age, that’s all. He had a few bad dreams and  then his body gave up on him. Anything more intimate than that is not  on the cards.”

“But –” began Doc.

“What bad dreams?” said Roseluck suddenly.

Nurse Redheart shrugged. “How should I know?”

“Well,  how did you know about his bad dreams, then?” Roseluck’s voice rang  with triumph, which swiftly died down under the deadly silence.

Eventually, Nurse Redheart cleared her throat. “Your friend Daisy mentioned anything about dreams, did she?”

“Well… not really… no.”

“So what makes you think the two are in any way related? The fact that they’re both gardeners?”

At  this, Roseluck bristled. She’d never consider her floral management a  religion, but there was awe, and beauty, and wonder in the petals. Right  now she frothed in the manner of a true believer who’d stumbled across  an infidel peddling a knock-off. Mister Greenhooves had raked leaves and  watered flowers, true, but that wasn’t gardening. That was just tidying  up until the real gardeners got there.

“No,” she said through tight teeth. “Did Mister Greenhooves mention dreams?”

“Never you mind,” said Nurse Redheart.

“But I do  mind,” said Roseluck in a torrent of squeaks. “So Mister Greenhooves  didn’t take an interest in travelling far away, did he, or read creepy  books about weird plants, did he? Or should I ‘consult a doc’  about that?”

Nurse Redheart’s glare remained in place, but the  edges around her eyes softened as though Roseluck’s crime had improved  from “capital offence” to “irritating little peccadillo”. On the  periphery, Doc glanced from one to the other.

Then the nurse nodded towards a corridor off to the side. “Right. A word, if you please, Miss Roseluck. And you’ve got one minute left, so don't you dare say no. Come here.”

From the reception desk came a nasty chuckle. Roseluck dreaded to think whether or not she'd survive the next few seconds of being chewed out and spat out, and swallowed.

Following  Nurse Redheart, Roseluck and the Doc exchanged glances. The corridor was  empty, though the beep, moan, and occasional murmuring voice of a staff  member reminded them of the rooms on either side.

Bending low and  beckoning them closer, Nurse Redheart said, “I’m not going to ask, and I’m not  going to speculate. I’m certainly not going to reveal everything;  that’s between me and the patient. But if it sets your mind at ease,  here’s what to look out for.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” said Roseluck, simultaneously wishing and regretting that she sounded so smug.

“Yes,  but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” Nurse Redheart’s glare moved a few  rungs up the felony ladder. “What I’m about to say is not a breach of  confidentiality. And you’re not to spread it around. Do you understand?”

“Then why are we in this empty corridor?” said Doc.

“Because  it’s my job to stop sick ponies from getting sicker, and I’d rather  play it safe on this one occasion. That means no yakking away in the  waiting room where bored ponies can tattle on me for the flimsiest of  pretexts, and that, Doc, is because we have this thing called a  grey area, which is a bit legally dubious, and the less time I spend  arguing with supervisors –”

“Or lawyers,” said Doc helpfully.

“– the better. And I’ve told you about finishing my sentences before, thank you.”

“Well?”  said Roseluck, while she tried not to notice how Nurse Redheart sounded like  an ex-girlfriend getting catty. If only because Doc did have a bad habit of cutting you off mid –

“What’s the clue?” said Doc.

With  her hoof raised in a conspiratorial manner, Nurse Redheart murmured, “I  watched over him up until the end. The night before he fell into a coma,  our friend Mister Greenhooves spoke in his sleep. Hard to tell from all  the excited garbling, but from what I gathered, he thought he was being  hunted.”

Roseluck gulped. Was it her, or was the corridor suddenly blowing a draft?

“I  didn’t think much of it at the time, since he’d done it before and lots  of ponies have nightmares when they’re ill. Only this time it just kept  going. Hours went by and he kept garbling. Near the end, he shrieked  once or twice, and then settled back down as though nothing had  happened.”

No. This couldn’t be true. Nurse Redheart must have picked up  Roseluck’s feelings, and was trying to scare her to impress her. Yes,  that must be it…

“And then?” Roseluck gulped.

Casually, Nurse Redheart straightened up. “That was it. Come the morning, he was definitely in a coma.”

After waiting for more, Roseluck slumped. “What!? That’s it!?”

“Do I look like Princess Luna to you? I don’t know what was going on inside his head.”

“But there must be more! Was he suffering from depression? What about other ponies?”

“You  remember that grey area I mentioned earlier? Well, now you’re leaving  that far behind, and I’m afraid you’ve reached the end of my coffee  break. Look, I can see you’re upset, and I do sympathize, however I come  across right now. But I know you, Flower Girl, so here’s a word of  advice; don’t blow this out of proportion. It was a dream. Lots of  ponies have them, and however much we’re playing it safe, there’s no way  to prove the dream had anything to do with Mister Greenhooves’ coma.”

“Correlation is not causation,” said Doc proudly.

“Yes…”  Nurse Redheart barged past him. Over her shoulder, she half-yelled,  “You want any more than that, go see a dream specialist. Set your mind  at ease. No point running around in a panic over nothing. That is my  little gift to you. Savour it.”

She bustled round the corner. They could hear her stamping away.

Roseluck  released a breath. At least they hadn’t seen Mister Greenhooves at all,  which she’d secretly been dreading. Modern medicine could expand the  lifetime wonderfully, provided you didn’t mind spending most of it on a  bed attached to a machine. And that was the least Frankensteinian image that she had in her head right now.

“So now what?” she said. “We go?”

Doc beamed at her. “Elementary, my dear Roseluck. We have our next lead! Find a dream specialist!”

“Princess Luna?”

“No! Books! I’ve got a whole collection! The trail grows warmer! Quick! Let us away to the Doc on the Sea of Knowledge!”

“What!?”

“Let’s go to my place,” he translated.

Ah. That sounded more like it. Roseluck stepped forwards to encourage him to start walking.

“I’ve often helped Derpy out at my place, so I’m pretty sure I can help you out at my place too!”

The  sentence was a blow. Roseluck reeled for a moment, almost staggering.  How could he be so… so flippant about it? Not that she actually, really  cared, but to come out with something like that… it was almost as if he knew what he was doing.

“Let’s  just get out of here,” growled Roseluck, pushing him towards the  reception area and thus to the exit. Someone in the distance coughed  violently. “Please?”

Flower Girl, she thought, and her teeth ground together. The way she spoke to me, like I make lists of diseases just to fret over them. I mean, that’s Lily, not me!

Far away, an alarm blared. Hooves thundered down some distant corridor. Beeping flatlined.

Roseluck swallowed. Perhaps Lily was onto something, though…




> Stuck
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darlingtonia californica. Cobra lilies. Of course.

Around  the wandering ponies – Daisy leading like an unstoppable locomotive,  Lily following some way behind in case of crashes – browning leaves  reared up and bulged at the top: veined sails on a corrupted sea. Bloody  leaves forked out of their mouths; they had earned their name, at  least. Lily kept her gaze up at them in case any struck.

Fortunately,  the swamp was easing up. Instead of endless green, the streaks of algae  gave way to cleaner waters. With nothing but the black mist around  them, they were now sloshing through darkness, but compared with before,  the slightly hazy reflections of the cobra lilies were beautiful. Or  beautiful according to a much-distressed state of mind.

In a way,  the plants were more encouraging. These were Equestrian varieties, at  least. All that exotica from Didgeridoo had put Lily's teeth on edge. Even the air felt  lighter on her flanks now; the atmosphere was no longer trying to  suffocate her with its weirdness.

She just wished Daisy would say  something. Walking in silence was putting a gag over her mouth. If she  could just use words, maybe talk the world into a more familiar shape…

“Um,” Lily said.

Still, Daisy did not look round.

Lily lost her grip on her own temper. “What is this? The silent treatment? All right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I  burst in on your dream. I didn’t know you liked it here. I thought you  were in trouble. Don’t go blaming me if I’m not told everything or if I  worry over whether or not you’re seriously ill, sleeping all the time  like that. Pardon me, I’m sure!”

And still Daisy didn’t respond. Lily splashed with the effort of not rushing over and strangling her –

“It’s OK,” said Daisy eventually.

Good. She was saying something. Now she could turn around when she spoke.

“No, it’s not OK!” said Lily. “I’m fri – I’m getting bored here. Why did you want to stay here anyway?”

“I  didn’t want to stay, exactly. I was going to come back sooner or later,  once I’d figured things out.” Daisy breathed deeply, and Lily saw her  belly swell and shrink under the effort. “This place… is peaceful.”

“Uh huh.” Lily cringed under a cobra tongue she hadn’t even noticed until just then. It loomed overhead.

“I mean nice and quiet. Sometimes, it’s good to get away from it all.”

Soon,  once more, the last of the cobra lilies surged past and they were  walking in clear blackness. Only their reflections contained any colour,  and the odd sloshing of their legs through the surface merely enhanced  the contrast.

“You were coming back, right?” said Lily.

“Of course. Once I’d figured out what I was going to do. Only… don’t you think this is quite a nice place?”

Lily looked around. Blackness still. Their reflections. The odd slosh.

“If you’ve got a mind for it,” she said with a shudder. “Looks dead to me.”

“No, no. It’s just quiet. And cool, too. You feel it?”

“Yeah. I definitely feel the coolness.”

That  wasn’t merely cattiness, though Lily wasn’t good at cattiness to begin  with; she’d only ever managed to get mildly peeved before her blood and  heart insisted on getting worked up for more terrifying stimuli. In  addition, the air around them felt as though it were drawing away from  her skin, pulling hairs up. Part of her wanted to go back to the  Didgeridoo exhibit.

“I’ve never liked dreams,” she admitted. “Anything can happen in a dream.”

“Exactly,” said Daisy triumphantly.

Lily  thought a bit about the magical land of Equestria. “Well, fair’s fair,  anything can happen in real life too, but at least there it sort of  happens because it makes sense. Kind of. For reasons, anyway. Not always  sensible ones, but…” She gave up. “You know what I mean.”

Frustrated, she upped her ambling walk to a trot. Anything to bridge the gap between them.

“You’re sure Luna’s not here?” Lily said hopefully.

“No. I thought you brought her. How else could you get in a dream?”

“Doc  had a helmet,” said Lily. She reached up to her scalp. Same strange  weight on it, same intangibility when she tried to move whatever it was.

“Oh. Right. You said.”

“Admit it; you’d have been stuck in here forever without us.”

“No.” Daisy turned her head so Lily couldn’t see her face.

“Yes. I’m watching you. I know you. You don’t really have a clue how to get out, do you?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I have lots of clues. Lots of ideas.”

“You were stuck in here, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“Someone would have had to come in sooner or later. You don’t even know where you’re going.”

“No.”

“You were stuck.”

“No.”

“You don’t know how to get out, or you’d have gotten out.”

“No.”

“You’re really stuck, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“You are. Own up.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“No.”

Lily shrugged. “All right. Have it your way, then.”

A pause. They wandered onwards.

“Yes!”  Daisy said, and she sighed. “Yes, all right? I don’t know how to get  out! What am I supposed to do, just wish myself awake!? I’ve never been  asleep this long before! I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know how  to leave! I’m not even sure I want to leave!”

Having almost drawn level with her friend, Lily suddenly stopped. The words hit her  over the head. So many rushing emotions crammed into her heart that, for  a moment, the thing went out and cut off all life in her limbs. She  swayed.

Then it burst through. Sloshing furiously, she surged  forwards. Daisy hadn’t even noticed her fall back, but at the surge  coming towards her, she looked round in fright and Lily’s glare gripped  her face and held it.

“How can you say that!?” Words burst out of  Lily’s mouth. “Daisy, do you really think, just because the shop’s  having a hard time, we’re going to drop you like a broken plant pot?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Daisy shook as though feebly struggling against the grip of the glare.

“Something’s  clearly bugging you, and you expect us to ignore it, do you? Well,  tough. I am not going to sit by or stand by or whatever and let you kick  yourself into a corner. For goodness’ sake, just tell us!”

Daisy mumbled, but through the ringing and the blasting, Lily’s mind caught none of it.

Lily  backed off. More gently, she added, “Your problem is our problem. Maybe  if you talk to us, we can work something out together, or… or, I dunno,  just hang together, like we always do. When we’re together, there’s  nothing that we can’t overcome… Well, there is, but we can at  least run away from it together. Or hide from it together. Or, uh, just  be together. Oh, look, I’m rubbish at encouraging speeches. All I know  is, you shouldn’t bottle things up like this. We’re your friends. We want to help you.”

Daisy’s  face was sodden with misery. Her eyelids were coming down. The corners  of her mouth sagged with it. Even the skin under her eyes had bags of  depression. Yet she cocked her head, as though listening to whispered  instructions. In the end, she shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll think about it,” she mumbled.

Lily relaxed. This was something.  She couldn’t help noticing, however, that Daisy was inching away while  they walked, as though a pit were opening up between them. And now she  was looking away.

Feeling she had to do something, Lily moved  across and nudged her friend's neck with her own muzzle. “Chin up. I’m sure we’ll  find a way out sooner or later.”

They carried on while she waited for an answer. The maddening feeling crept up on her again.

Soon,  new plants emerged from the mist. They were sundews. Was it just her,  or were they packed together a little more tightly than the last lot of plants?




> A Perfect Meadow, Full of Laughter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the path leading away from Ponyville General Hospital and towards the main avenues of Ponyville itself, Roseluck felt the last of the hospital-centric nerves leave her behind. That still left her with a lot of nerves for everything else, but in her current frame of mind she could handle those without wanting to gag and rush towards the nearest bathroom.

In fact, approaching Ponyville, the relief surged back as high spirits. Walking alongside her, Doc muttered under his breath. Doubtless, he was muttering many clever and brilliant ideas which, alas, were not yet clever and brilliant enough for him to share with her.

Which, she felt rather proudly, meant she could be inspired to have a few of her own.

“Do you think we should go to a doctor, like Nurse Redheart told us?” she said.

Interrupted, he said at once, “Roseluck, I – with the greatest respect for the medical profession – don’t think it necessary.”

“Why not?”

“Simple: prolonged sleep, while a very unusual thing to find in a young lady like dear Daisy Flower Wishes, is not necessarily a cause for medical concern. In any case, there is a very real chance that dear Lily Valley is already successfully guiding her back to the land of wakefulness. Should that be so, involving an expert whose time could be better spent elsewhere on more bone-breakingly urgent matters strikes me as somewhat hasty, akin to calling in Princess Celestia because you got a bit of sunburn on your shoulder. Does that make sense?”

And… she was lost. “I… forgot what I asked you now.”

“Look, the point is: have some sense of proportion. Odds are that Nurse Redheart’s little titbit of information will turn out to be a red herring.”

“A what?”

“A red herring. A false trail. So named because of the old story of the Fishermare and the Misleading Red Herring, which lured the fishermare into a lagoon shortly before the nearby aquarium released its shark collection into the wild. A wonderful if somewhat grim fairy tale indeed!”

The relief, high spirits, and pride sank back down again. Sometimes, it was no fun talking to Doc.

As they continued along the main street, however, they saw ponies up ahead gathering and funnelling through a particular doorway. Even under this overcast sky and over this squelching grass, they insisted on having their parties. On approach, Roseluck spotted Goldengrape at the entrance. He reared up and shouted words to encourage everyone to come in.

“Oh, Rosie!” he called, waving at her. “Knock knock!”

She rolled her eyes. He would insist, wouldn’t he?

“Who’s there?” she recited.

“Olive!”

Oh, that old one. “Olive who?”

“I love you too! Shall we dance!?” Quick as a switch, he burst out into laughter and just as quickly burst out of it again. “No, seriously, though, won’t you join us? We’re having a heck of a shindig, food’s on Pinkie, drink’s on me, bring your own barrels.”

“Maybe another day,” said Roseluck. The sheer joy on his face was a guilty sun; bright and heartening, but she knew all too well it was a mask. Well, it must be. No one whose girlfriend had been missing for days could really look that happy, could they?

“All right. Send my love to Daisy, OK? Haven’t seen her around lately!” Brief puzzlement blunted his face before the smile poked through again. “Um… Catch you later!”

No one, she thought angrily, unless he has complete faith in her. When was the last time he and Daisy spoke to each other? And what did they say? Oh, Daisy, why don’t you tell us these things?

She pushed the guilt away. Hopefully, Daisy would be awake and well soon enough. They could explain things then. Besides, telling him meant seeing that smile vanish, and what had the poor stallion ever done to deserve that?

So she put on her friendliest smile and giggled behind a hoof; he blew her a kiss, winked, and turned back to the crowd.

“Ahem,” said Doc, rather pointedly.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” said Roseluck, trying not to look smug. “You know he only teases.”

“Yes,” said Doc, in a voice clearly not ready to believe it. He kept his gaze on Goldengrape until the two of them turned the corner.

Immediately, Roseluck saw the castle up ahead. Doc had mentioned princesses, at least… Time for clever idea number two.

Besides, now she’d seen Goldengrape there, so close, so bright and light on his hooves as he’d ushered the ponies inside, she felt like a traitor. After all, he hadn’t seen the way his darling, darling Daisy lay on her bed, hadn’t been there when she – Roseluck – had come in to see.

“Why not ask Princess Twilight?” she said. “I bet she’d be more than willing to help, if she knew. She’d solve this in a matter of seconds.”

Doc screwed up his face. “Oh, Roseluck. Really. Don’t you listen to anything you say at parties? You only recently told me yourself she’s busy at some conference or other. Hardly ever possible to rope in a pony like her at the best of times.”

“That’s not true. Twilight was always ready to lend a helping hoof –”

“Yes well, once we had a library made out of an oak tree. Not anymore.”

Annoyance pushed through her pout. “But-But what about that party a few days back?”

“Ha! Her last chance at pleasure before a tedious week of shuffling papers and listening to boring old bureaucrats waffle on about economics this and geography that. Now look, I pity the poor dear her busy social schedule, but there you are, and there you have it.”

Grimly, she peered over the rooftops. After all, the florist’s was just visible from this part of town, and if they had woken up, then maybe this dark cloud over her head would go away.

“I want to check on the others,” she said immediately. “We’ve been gone a long time.”

“But it’s out of our way.”

“Won’t take a picosecond.”

“A scientific impossibility, in any case. But don’t you think –”

“And I’d feel better knowing they’re OK. I don’t like leaving them alone this long.”

They walked a few more steps before he said, “Oh, all right. We are trying to help them, after all. This bustling about we’re doing is for a good cause. I’ll wait here.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Without waiting any longer, she shot off. Anyway, she still had the book. If Daisy was coming back – When Daisy came back – she’d want the room exactly as she’d left it.





“Hold on,” said Daisy, raising a forelimb.

Both of them stopped.

After a while, Daisy said, “I… think… this might be it.”

“My word,” said Lily. “As simple as that?”

“Well, we’ve been walking for ages. Bound to come across something sooner or later.”

Daisy winced; the sundews had drops the size of her head on the end of stalks the width of her tail. Several had brushed against her coat, and now she had the horrible clingy coldness of a dozen beads smeared across her flanks and cheeks like glue. They really had been tightly packed together.

“Can’t be any worse than this swamp,” said Lily.

Instantly, Daisy’s imagination gave her a list of ways she could be wrong.

They were staring at a floating patch of light.

It had emerged very slowly out of the dark mist, initially as a mere suggestion of lighter black against the omnipresent shadow. Daisy hadn’t been sure whether it was her imagining things or not until they’d walked a little further on. The smudge of lighter black became grey, which faded to white, which became, as soon as the smudge emerged and revealed itself to be flat and exact like a brush stroke on an invisible canvas, this floating patch of light.

Both of them exchanged glances, and then tiptoed towards it as best they could on their hooves.

Now that they were closer, they noticed the light wasn’t pure white. A bluish tinge, though, became the blazing blue of a midday summer sky. No clouds. No sun.

They stopped inches from it.

After a while, Daisy whispered, “Do you think it’s safe?”

Lily whispered back, “Look who you’re talking to. Anyway, don’t you know?”

“I didn’t see anything like this before.”

And yet, as she stood close enough to reach out and touch the patch, Daisy swore she could hear, on the cusp of hearing, the tiny sounds of young laughter. Something stirred within her mind.

“Wait,” said Lily. She was stretching her head high.

“What is it?”

“There’s some grass in there.”

“Grass?” Daisy followed her example and strained her forelimbs and craned her neck. Doing so, the green suggestion tickled the lower edge of the patch like some optical illusion.

She reared up.

What they’d taken for grass were merely the tops of distant trees. Below that, colour exploded. Pinks and yellows and greens and reds swayed and danced gently under a breeze. They sang to her, tingles crept up her spine, and then…

…a strange peace flowed through her. Everywhere the peace touched, she felt lighter. Less burdened. She smiled.

“This is a meadow,” she said.

“Huh?” Water slopped as presumably Lily reared up to check.

Both of them landed heavily. Over the splash, Daisy said, “Do you recognize this meadow, Lily?”

“Er…”

Now she knew what to listen for, Daisy heard the laughter of foals. High-pitched, barely graduated from childish giggles, and yet running across her mind like overexcited fillies. She’d heard laughter like that, long ago.

Where peace had flowed through her, energy pulsed and rushed; she stepped forwards.

“Wait a minute!” Lily splashed up to her hastily. “You don’t know it’s safe.”

“It’s a memory. Hear that?”

To her relief, she heard Lily’s voice – when it next spoke – come out as a smile would sound if it could speak. “No way, no way, no way… you still remember that summer's day?”

“Like it was yesterday. Come on.” Daisy placed a hoof on the patch; this was no harder than clambering through an open window. “I think this memory is what we’re looking for.”

The smiling sound vanished from Lily's voice. “No, wait! Daisy! You can’t just rush in!”

Daisy did so, and the instant she threw herself across the threshold, the breeze stroked her curls and the perfumes turned her nose into a quiet fireworks display of perfumes and odours and wafting, heady scents. She reeled for a moment, and real stems and leaves crunched underfoot. All traces of that swampy water vanished; she even felt the clinginess vanish and the sensations dry up.

A perfect summer’s day.

She looked back. Hanging in midair like an abandoned paint stroke, the patch of black was a window back into the world of swamp and darkness.

No chance. She walked onwards.

Lily’s frantic hoofsteps caught up with her and the mare herself barred the way. “Daisy, are you crazy?”

“Are you looking at this? We’re walking through one of the best moments of our lives.”

Lily screwed up her face. “It’s nice. But what’s it doing here? Have you thought about that?”

Daisy’s rushing energy reached her heart. Everything within her chest bloomed. The very idea of being frightened by this place was nonsense, not when there were so many senses being pleasantly surprised. Even the taste of the breeze when she spoke was a memory of honey.

“Do you hear the laughter?” she said.

Lily cocked an ear. On this side of the window, the young laughter was bounding and endless, as though the sound was playing hopscotch on the head.

“I hear it, but… that… doesn’t…” Her eyes widened. Lily stared. Wordlessly, she reached across and nudged Daisy’s cheek to turn her head around.

Three foals gambolled across the flowers, tackling or running around each other. They were several yards away and constantly ducking in and out of the sea of rainbow petals, but Daisy knew who they were instantly.

Young Lily poked her head up. Young Roseluck leaped out and pounced on her. Young Daisy ran rings around them while they clambered around and over each other.

Grown-up Daisy’s knees sagged. It was never a good idea to say so about her own friends, but…

“Aw,” she cooed. “You were so cute back then.”

“I’m… still… cute… today…” Grown-up Lily clearly didn’t have it in her to be offended. For a while, both of them watched innocent times. For the three fillies never seemed to run out of energy, but simply switched from one game to another at random.

They really hadn’t changed much. True, Young Daisy’s mane – under the daisy chain she’d made for herself – was less a mass of curls and more a flat affair with the suggestion of curly edging, whereas Young Lily’s braces occasionally glinted under her flapping and practical ponytail. Only Young Roseluck looked purely like a smaller version of her future self. Yet all of them were easy to distinguish at a glance.

Eventually, the three settled down. Grown-up Daisy crept forwards, followed by the crunching of Grown-up Lily who drew up alongside her. Both of them peered over the mass of untrampled grass.

“Not too close,” whispered Lily.

“It’s only a memory,” Daisy whispered back, but she kept low anyway.

The three foals sat in a triangle, laughing at each other. Finally, they settled down, Young Daisy turning to Young Roseluck and starting to twine daisies through her hair.

“And when I grow up,” Young Lily was saying, “I’m gonna be an explorer. Just like Explorer Flora and her Plant Pot of Power!”

“That sounds nice,” Young Daisy said without looking away from her work.

“It is! And I’m gonna have all kinds of cool adventures. Finding lost tribes of ponies, digging up treasure, exploring caves and lakes and volcanoes.”

Grown-up Daisy chuckled softly. “Yeah, we saw how that one worked out, didn’t we?”

Beside her, Lily shuddered. They both leaned closer.

This time, Young Roseluck squeaked excitedly, “I could visit you in my time machine! I’ve nearly got all the pieces now. If you want, I could come back and tell you how your adventures went. That way, you’d never be too scared of anything.”

Young Lily bristled. “Me? Scared? I’m not scared that much. Anyway, you get scared easier than I do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m the bravest of all three of us. Mom said so. Ow!”

“Sorry, Rose!” said Young Daisy, drawing back. “It was an accident! I swear!”

“No biggie. Just don’t pull so hard, OK?”

“OK.” Young Daisy returned. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

“We heard you the first time. Relax, Daisy. I know it was just an accident.”

Nearby, both Daisy and Lily glanced at each other while the three fillies prattled on. Daisy saw her own smile reflected on Lily’s face, and nodded approvingly. She hadn’t realized how long it’d been since she’d seen a smile like that.

Young Lily was speaking again. They both listened.

“So what do you want to be, Daisy?”

Young Daisy paused, hooves still in Roseluck’s mane. After a while, she said, “I don’t mind, so long as we’re all together. And it involves flowers. Flowers are nice.”

“And pretty,” said Young Roseluck.

“And gentle,” said Young Lily, running a hoof along some nearby bluebells and scattering their petals to the wind. Watching the last of them drift and tumble away, she stood up. “I could send you loads of big, weird flowers from the Amaponian Rainforest. They got ones there the size of my head.”

“That big, huh?” Young Roseluck giggled.

“Oh haha. You’re such a comedian, I don’t think.”

“Well, I bet they have all kinds of… com… pli… cated flower varieties in the future. I mean, if you breed orchids for long enough, you’re bound to get something really… spe’tac’lar.”

“Not as spectacular as you trying to say big words.” Young Lily sniggered.

“Oh don’t, Lily. I’m trying, aren’t I?”

Unexpectedly, Young Daisy’s hooves flopped down. To the other fillies’ alarm, she hunched over and sniffed. Both of them crowded around her at once.

Overhead, Grown-up Daisy herself knew what was coming. Hastily, she looked at the blue sky over the distant trees, trying not to listen anymore.

“Oh, Daisy, no,” said Young Lily. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“We haven’t left yet,” said Young Roseluck. “Anyway, if we did, we’d still write to you and come see you and tell you everything about our adventures. We promised.”

Grown-up Daisy bit her lip. Her own young voice squeaked and hiccupped against the tears.

Young Daisy whispered, “I don’t want you to go away. I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Huh,” muttered Grown-up Lily. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

Still trying not to listen, and yet leaning in hungry for more, Grown-up Daisy felt her ears burning. Yet, oddly… she remembered the tears well enough, but the memory was shining, around her and through her. She looked back to see the group hug, her own filly self caught in the middle, tears shining on her cheeks amid the hooves and torsos enclosing her.

Eventually, gracing Young Daisy’s lips: a small smile.

“We’ll always be friends,” said Young Roseluck. “We’ll never be really alone, Daisy.”

“Yeah,” said Young Lily. “And anyway, that’s a long way away. We’ve got time to play.”

Grown-up Daisy bit her lip. Hard.

Then the group hug broke up and the other two scampered about while Young Daisy rose to her hooves. “All right. I’m OK now.”

“Yeah!”

“Come on, Daisy! Let’s race!”

“Bet I can cross the whole meadow faster than you can count to a hundred!”

“Bet you can’t!”

“I’ve got time on my side!”

“I’ve got a magic plant pot on mine!”

“Not so fast, Lily! I wanna play!”

“Gotta catch up to me first, Daisy!”

“Aw, no fair!”

“I’ll stay with you, Daisy!”

“Rose, you’re the best!”

Eventually, the voices gave way to laughter, and the two grown-ups were left to watch the distant white and pink blurs crisscrossing the meadow. Daisy felt Lily’s hoof on her shoulder; it gave an encouraging shake.

“Not exactly a happy-go-lucky foal, even then,” said Lily.

“It doesn’t –” Daisy was shocked to hear the choke, and hastily she cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter. I remember the playing. Today was a perfect day.”

Lily sighed. “Simpler times when we were young. But yes, yes it was a perfect day. I remember it now. And in about five seconds, I’m going to find a caterpillar and mistake it for a snake.”

A distant scream. The gambolling stopped. They heard Young Lily’s distant and frightened shouting, and then Young Roseluck spoke over her and soothed her into a mere snuffling. Young Daisy said something, voice rising with derision.

“Sorry,” said Lily.

Irritation was a twinge on Daisy’s mind, but it lost out to her spreading sense of peace. Now in this place she could happily spend eternity and a day.

Excitement flashed. An idea briefly appeared and then faded, but she’d seen it.

Daisy looked around, but Lily and the distant foals were the only living things on the meadow. She hurried about, flattening stems underfoot.

“Daisy?” Lily’s voice had to keep up, and strained a little to do so. “What are you doing?”

“I think this is the way out.”

“You what?”

“I’m sure of it! All the time I was here, I was doing nothing but brooding over how awful everything was. But this memory…” Daisy spotted it.

Against the bright blue of the sky, it barely showed up at all. Yet now she had an idea of what to look for, the white patch was obvious. Blue stars broke up the whiteness, blending in with the summer overhead, yet there it now and unmistakeably hovered.

White with blue stars.

“There!” She pointed. “That’s it! That must be the way out!”

“What?” Lily cast about wildly. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“There! Where I’m pointing!” Perhaps a little too enthusiastically – oh, but who cared? – Daisy dropped her pointing limb and gripped Lily about the shoulders and laughed and danced a skipping dance round and round. “Don’t you feel how lovely everything is here? That’s the key to solving this problem! I just needed some time to see it!”

“Will you let go of me, please?” Lily broke away, dizzy and staggering. “Look, how do you know all this? I don’t even know what the rules are.”

Daisy stopped. True. She wasn’t sure how she knew, only that, suddenly and instinctively, she just knew. The solution was obvious…

…whatever it was…

…and now the white patch was right there, heavenly as the laughter and the breeze encouraging her flanks with its gentle push.

Impatiently, she said, “Look at this, will you? Does it look evil to you?”

“That’s what it wants you to think.”

Daisy groaned. Why did Lily have to be so negative about everything? She was worse than a chain.

Dismissing her friend utterly, Daisy broke through the chain and galloped towards the white patch. “Come on! I want out of here! This has to be it!”

“No! Wait, wait! Can’t we stop and think about this!?”

There was a crack as of shattered glass behind her, but Daisy was laughing and galloping and, for a moment, every bit the young foal again. Everything was wonderful. Everything was finally going to be all right. She just had to think that, said her instincts, and she could return to the light of day.

Glass? said an errant thought.

She cast it aside. Surely, she’d meant the crunch of grass. Lily was such a clumsy clod, at times.





The bedroom was exactly as she’d left it, up to and including the two mares lying down with helmets on.

Roseluck sighed. “So much for that hope.”

Doc’s suitcase beeped contentedly beside them. Lily’s forelimbs had slid off completely and hit the floor. Her blanket was coming undone too; Roseluck tidied the edges before tucking them in again.

She turned to the bed.

At least Daisy was smiling now. In fact, her face was smooth and relaxed with an enlightened joy. Despite herself, Roseluck smiled back. No point, really, when she couldn’t be seen, but she hadn’t had a reason to smile without effort for a long time.

Dutifully, Roseluck changed the feeding bag and let it buzz for a bit. The nasogastric tube turned yellow.

Darn did she hate that tube, but even she could hold her nose and look away and appreciate the marvels of modern technology, albeit while trying not to think too hard about the mechanics of it all. Thank goodness for Doc's endless supply of curiosity and correspondence courses…

Still, she found her smile again. Perhaps this would be the last time, and then she could throw it all away and forget all about it.

She leaned forwards and brushed a strand of curly hair out of Daisy’s closed eyes. “It’s going to be all right, Daisy. We’ve just been to the hospital. Nurse Redheart says… Well, Mister Greenhooves had some bad dreams, but you look OK now, so maybe we’re just overreacting.”

Feeling this was lame, she continued, “We’re going to double-check. Then we’ll be right back. I promise. Doc and I just need to learn a bit more about dreams. He’s got it under control. Trust me.”

I hope.

She swallowed. “Anyway, Goldengrape’s OK. He seems happy to me. I don’t know what you told him, but… If you told him… Well, I hope you told him. Because he’s taking it very well if you did.”

And if you didn’t, then I will never forgive you for it.

Gritting her teeth, she banished the thought. No. She should be more like Goldengrape. He must have had faith in Daisy’s judgement, and he hadn’t known her since foalhood. Not like Roseluck and Lily.

Lily.

What am I doing? Roseluck glanced at Lily instead. Suddenly, this whole idea seemed very, very stupid. What was the point of coming back when she’d be more useful with Doc, gathering ideas, just in case? She hadn’t even really expected the two of them to wake up. The hope had lied to her the whole time, and like a fool she’d believed it, because her insides writhed at any other thought.

She felt herself believing the lies, even now. Any second now, her two friends would open their eyes and sit up.

She held her breath. They didn’t.

She groaned and ran a hoof over her face. Little fool, she thought.

“Sorry, Daisy,” she said. “I’m just so on edge right now. I’ll try better. This is going to be OK. It has to be. We’ll be flogging fuchsias before the day is done.”

She turned to Lily.

Oddly, she didn’t feel any strong impulse to talk to Lily at all. It was Daisy who needed encouraging.

Lily didn’t. While the mare had been scared stiff plenty of times before, she never actually worried about things. She just got on with them, or blustered her way into taking charge of them, or in exceptional cases had pounced on them grinning. If it wasn’t one extreme with her, it was the other.

Nonetheless…

Roseluck placed her friend’s forelimbs carefully on the chest, so that she looked vaguely dignified, and then she patted them.

“Hang in there, girls,” she said. “We’re on our way.”

On the desk, the monstrous plant lurked over its pot. She eyed it warily. Obviously, now she thought about it, this was some kind of exotic experiment. No reason to assume anything macabre about such a weird, creepy, unnatural, alien bit of sickly greenery. Not in the slightest.

The other books waited on the pile for their companion to return.

She put the book back where’d she found it, trying not to look at the green tangles and teeth on the cover. With a final glance at the bed, she rushed out and hurried downstairs. At least she was leaving the two of them in peace.





Lily hurried across the patch of lavenders, cursed, tripped, and stumbled. She swore Daisy was doing this on purpose.

All of her senses were flashing alarms at her. Dreams just did not work like this, not in her experience. They didn’t give grand and heart-warming epiphanies before sending her merrily on her way. Anyway, the foalish laughter was dying away, and she was sure the foals hadn’t gone that far that fast. They’d heard every breath across the quiet flowers, from one side even unto the other, carried by that constant breeze.

Up ahead, Daisy was laughing and running, and that really got Lily’s back up. Apart from how shrill her friend sounded, she was running and looking up at a random patch of sky.

Wait… maybe she’s onto something. This is her dream, after all. Don’t be such a Scaredy-Pants.

Lily slowed to an amble. She squinted. Still just a random patch of blue. She strained her ears. Hadn’t she heard a crack back there?

What am I doing here?

Only the breeze touched her flanks, yet cold crept up her spine. Something dreadful was going to happen. It had to. As soon as anything really nice came along, something really nasty had to balance it out. Yet the blurs of white and pink played on.

Why am I here?

She stopped.

Really, what’s the point in having me around? I don’t do anything but panic and assume the worst. I’m supposed to be her best friend, and all I do is hold her back and tell her how awful life is…

…she thought.

Suspicion laced with dread: that was the cocktail oozing through her veins right now. Nothing about this felt right. And those thoughts… well, obviously, they were her thoughts, or else she wouldn’t have thunk ‘em.

In a dream. In someone else’s head.

Nah. Lily shook herself down and carried on after her friend, though was it just her, or was the meadow getting bigger? She swore they should have reached the edge at this speed, but Daisy was still running and still a long way away from the trees.

Because she finally knows what she’s doing. And I don’t. I just get in the way and scream a lot – she definitely did not think.

What the hay?

This time, the crack was unmistakeable. It sounded like a sledgehammer in a window shop. Another crack, another shattering tinkle of pieces.

Puzzled, she looked behind her.

There was the meadow. There were the blurs of foals at play, though becoming smaller every second. There was the gigantic jagged hole where reality was breaking apart – wait, what?

Lily stared.

She hadn’t noticed at first because her first impression had been blue sky, green meadow, surrounding colours of flowers, and the distant dark line of the tree trunks. The thing coming through the hole was green. If it weren’t for the flowers, she wouldn’t have paid closer attention to the hairline cracks running across the memory like the glass on a framed photograph, even as the swaying and pale impatiens flowers made the spider’s web of damage really stand out.

The thing coming through was a tangle of leg-thick, hairy stems. Somewhere within the whole, a set of green teeth…

At this point, Lily’s brain stopped gawking.

She screamed.

Throwing herself into a gallop, she shouted Daisy’s name and winced at the painfully loud crack that drowned it out. More cracking broke out behind her, but she was too experienced a coward to look back and thus slow herself down. Anyway, all her energy had to go into her legs. Her brain was light and drained by fear.

I’m always arguing or fighting or trying to boss her around. What’s the point of having me around? I don’t really contribute anything.

“Shut up!” she yelled, and then cursed herself for the slip. Words were a waste of energy.

Up ahead, Daisy –

Astonished, Lily blinked through the mist of horror.

Daisy was running up to the sky. Cheerfully. As though utterly unaware that the ground was several yards below her. Still staring at that white patch with the blue stars in it wait a second.

In that fatal moment, Lily slowed down. Not by much. But sheer shock knocked a few miles-per-hour off her speed, and the next she felt was a thick stem grabbing her rear leg.

She screamed and hit the flowers, which cracked under her.

And gave way.

Shards fell around her while she screamed again and almost fell headfirst through the floor of the memory, right into the hidden mass of stems and teeth beneath. There were no gaps. What lay below her was pure green.

Frantic, she backed up and sent more shards of memory tumbling down into the mass. Teeth gnashed expectantly below.

Then the stem which had grabbed her leg pulled backwards. Lily slid on her belly away from the hole in the memory. Having backed her away, her legs switched tracks and forced themselves into a gallop, but they managed little more than to flatten the grass into the soil.

I’m worthless. I’m an embarrassment and a bad influence. I’m not wanted. I might as well just NOT EXIST.

“Daisy!” she cried out. “Help!”

Daisy was almost at the white patch. Stepping up to its radiance, Daisy’s curls glowed as though becoming a golden halo –

And I thought I’d be an explorer. Pathetic.

“DAISY!” she screamed, close to bursting a lung.

Finally, Daisy looked behind her, and the white patch dimmed when she turned round and galloped back towards her friend, down the sky and over the trees.

Lily was rotated and dragged further. Now she had a view of the coils snaking over themselves, of the one lassoed around her right hock, of another writhing towards her left leg to pull her along faster, and of the teeth, the terrible widening mass of teeth leading to a pure green mouth with no tongue, no back of the throat, nothing but pure unrelenting green and the promise that she’d never see another colour again –

“DAAAAIIIIIIIISSSSSSYYYYY!”

Her scrambling forelimbs met hooves.

Daisy gripped her and pulled. The inexorable drag towards those jaws slowed. If anything, it went into reverse; the writhing stems drew away, letting her left leg go free. The jaws closed.

“No, no, no, no, no,” moaned Daisy. “Not now. Not now.”

“It’s OK,” said Lily. More excitedly, she yelled, “It’s OK! I think the thing’s giving up!”

The things she does for me. Good grief.

…thought Lily.

“Not that!” yelled Daisy over her own straining muscles. “I meant! The white thing! It’s… shrinking!”

“Is this really the time for that!?”

“I could have escaped! I know I could! I swear I saw my room through it!”

“Just focus on what you’re doing!” Lily felt the last stem slipping. By now, the green jaws had vanished behind the writhing mass of stems.

And still her friend kept going on. “Oh, why did you have to do this, Lily?”

“Why did I have to do this!? It’s not by choice, let me tell you!” She kicked at the stem, and it slipped down to her hoof.

“We could’ve escaped! We would have done it! I swear I heard Rose's voice out there! Oh, no, but you had to be paranoid! You had to be slow.”

The stem tightened so suddenly that Lily yelped and Daisy’s grip slipped instead. Hastily, the hooves grabbed Lily’s own again and pulled.

“This is your nightmare, Daisy! Don’t blame me for getting nervy!”

“Why didn’t you trust me!? We’d have been out of here by now if it weren’t for you!”

“Trust you!? I’m getting attacked by a giant killer plant, and you think I should trust you!?”

“It’s just a dream!”

“I don’t want to die in a dream!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Oh, for pity’s sake! For once, can’t you just stop being such a Scaredy-Pants and actually do something useful!? I’d have made it out of here on my own if it weren’t for you! Why did you bother coming!?”

“WHAT!?”

The stem finally lost its grip.

Both of them tumbled and rolled and did not, against Lily’s own expectations, fall into the cracked hole she’d made earlier. Instead, the leaves and petals and stamens and thorns and other planty things stuck to their coats and the colours flashed by and they belly-flopped to a stop, Lily wincing as Daisy thumped on top of her.

The breeze. The distant laughter. No other sounds.

They poked their heads out.

Not a sign that the killer plant had ever been there. No holes. Not even any cracks. Nothing. Just the memory as they’d found it.

Lily pushed Daisy off and shot to her hooves. “So!”

Daisy gulped and crept backwards. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth a small dot.

“So!” said Lily again, because she hadn’t been mad enough the first time.

“I’m sorry,” Daisy blurted out.

“Those thoughts I was hearing weren’t mine. They were yours, aimed at me. Weren’t they?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Daisy contrived to make herself look as small as possible. “It was just… stress. I’d never say that about you.”

“But you’d think it. Wouldn’t you? Didn’t you? This is your head.”

“I’m sorry. Please. Lily…”

Around them, the memory faded. Darkness returned. Their legs were cold and tight with the wading water again. Sundews lurked over their heads and surrounded their little circle.

In this new environment, Daisy was submerged up to her muzzle like a filly caught in a pool.

Lily stuck out her jaw to emphasize that “sorry” was not going to shift it.

With a sigh, Daisy straightened up again. Soaked through, she shone where she stood. Her face softened.

“I was just frustrated,” she said. “You know I’d never really want to get rid of you.”

“Lies,” spat Lily. “Nothing but sweet, sweet lies. Well, now the truth comes out, doesn’t it? I’ll bet that plant thing was only following your orders. In a dream. Your dream, to be precise.”

She turned her back in a huff. Not helping matters was the fact that they were back at square one again, or whatever passed for square one when she was knee-deep in slimy algae-infested swampland. At least the memory had been different. And colourful. And nice.

Behind her, speaking almost to a whisper, Daisy said, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I was stupid. Lily, I’m sorry.”

“Hmph,” said Lily.

“Please forgive me.”

“Words, words, words. Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Silence.

Lily said, “Well?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Groaning, Lily rounded on her again. “And don’t act like this is a one-time thing. Deep down, you think you’d be better off without me, don’t you? I’ve always known it. OK, technically I suspected it, but you didn’t exactly hide it all that well.”

Daisy’s lip trembled. She shut her eyes tight.

Seeing this, Lily pushed some of the anger aside, and the memory briefly surfaced through the bubbling waters. Daisy had called it perfect, that day on the meadow, when she’d even broken down halfway through. Mind, she’d been on the verge of tears a lot back then.

Lily screwed up her mouth. Roseluck always said arguing didn’t get them anywhere.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said, before saying more softly, “but we’ve got bigger problems right now. Let’s… just… focus on getting out of here, all right?” The sundews loomed over her. “Again.”

“I really am sorry –”

“Forget it. Just trust me next time, OK?”

Daisy sniffed and nodded. “OK.”

Once more, Lily trudged through the green water, wishing she didn’t have to listen to the occasional sniff behind her, and wishing the sundews didn’t keep brushing against her coat. She’d almost forgotten already how soft and gentle the meadow had felt on her flanks.

“Lily,” said Daisy through a tight windpipe, “I would never wish anything like that on you. Ever.”

“Who else did, then? That pretty little white patch you were playing merrily with?”

“I only wanted you to stop being so – I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. You must think I’m awful.”

Lily couldn’t stay mad forever, if only because the only long-lasting emotion she’d known had been a few happy days as a child watching butterflies in the air, followed closely by the recurring fearful bouts of butterflies in her stomach. Anger didn't fare very well whenever she tried it. Anyway, it was probably a bad move to upset Daisy in her own dream.

“Hey,” Lily said, trying to sound at least civil. “I came here for you, didn’t I? Pain in the neck that you are.”

“I swear I’d never –”

“Look, let’s just get out of here first, and then we can talk about this. Got it?”

Quietly, Daisy said, “Yes.”

They waded on. To keep herself going, Lily recalled the tumble and laughter of the fields, but her memory faded and she ended up cursing the sundews again. Daisy kept silent behind her for a long time.

The swamp was endless this time.

Great, she thought miserably. Just great.




> Quickfix Solutions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the corner of Doc’s room, Roseluck hunched over the desk and read  what felt like the hundredth book in however many hours. Her eyes  strained to stay open.

Doc’s room was a collision between a  junkyard sale and a science museum for kids. Things floated behind the  glass of what looked like giant lava lamps, and metal boxes swarmed with  dials and meters. That was all her mind could manage before the lot  collapsed into a mishmash of wires and panels and switches.

Of  course, she’d visited this place before, and had gaped and gasped at the  devices all around them like a child in a futuristic theme park. That  was when she hadn’t got in her head the haunting, taunting image of two best friends lying on a floor in the florist’s several streets away and without her, Roseluck, there to watch over them.

Besides, she’d  set out to investigate, and that was what she intended to do.

True, that should have meant clues behind magnifying  glasses or bits of suspicious metal in plastic zip bags. Or else she and  Doc should’ve been pacing and puffing pipes with bubbles coming out.  Reading hadn’t featured anywhere in there at all.

Nevertheless.

This book was entitled: “Living Shadows: A Guide to the Dream World and its Inhabitants”.

Behind  her, Doc sniffed and turned another page. She turned to check on him.  Utterly calm, lounging on his armchair. Were it not for the lack of  dressing gown or pipe, he could’ve been a veritable Sherluck, whatever that was. Certainly, he looked more like an expert casually flicking through another mystery to solve.

Roseluck sighed and forced herself to read on.

Finally, she found the section she wanted: “Darkness and Dreams”.

“It  is a common misconception,” she whispered, hopeful that reading aloud  would keep her from drifting off, “that dream creatures are often dark  creatures, yet truth be told, it’s rare to find the two features  combined into one form. Certainly, there are many dark creatures that  roam the world, such as the hate-hunting Windigo and the spellbinding  Siren, and there are many dream creatures that seem to be dark too, such  as the common Headless Horse. However, it’s rare to find both traits  combined, as most dream creatures are simply metaphors for the mind,  internally generated, and make no special effort to subvert sleep.”

After  this, she shook her head. Drooping eyelids fought against even her  hair-trigger fear. The words lurked, but whenever they didn’t jump out at her, they became so heavy that eventually she struggled to concentrate.

The page went on without her: “The most dramatic exception is also among the most dangerous: the Baku.”

“Any luck over there, Rose?” Doc called. “I can hear you whispering.”

“I think so… Hold on…”

The  book kept her gaze steady, each syllable matching each beat of her  chest. “The Baku is a spirit found principally across the Eastern  territories of the globe, such as Qilinland and Nippon No Hippon. The reason they are so feared is because of  their ability to consume dreams. Unlike the Headless Horse and its ilk,  this monster invades the sleeping mind from the outside, an alien force  hopping from dream to dream in its relentless search for mental prey. Unlike most external dream creatures, however, a visit from this beast dooms the victim to eternal sleep.”

“Doc!”  she called, suddenly wanting his presence like a welcoming fire. Yet  still her hypnotized gaze ambled across the page through sheer terrified  momentum.

“Qu’est que c’est?” he said.

“There’s a creature here…”

“Yes?”

“It sounds just like the Tantabus. Look!” Without looking away – unable to look away – she patted the page for emphasis.

Onward  went the words: “For every dream they consume, they grow stronger,  until it is said they are able to escape to the real world and wreak  magical havoc. While the latter trait has never been documented except  by unreliable oral tradition, their appetite for pony minds – especially old, young, weak, or diseased ones, which are easy targets – has been repeatedly  confirmed by unicorn scientists. Their power makes them one of the most  feared spirits of the East.”

“Oh my gosh…” she breathed.

Whereupon, Doc rapped her shoulder smartly.

“Come now, Roseluck! You’re jumping to conclusions. That is simply not done.”

The spell broke. She gasped as though breaking through the surface of a lake, and turned at once to face him. “What?”

“Calm  yourself down. There’s no need to get dramatic just yet.” More gently,  he patted her shoulder again. The smile played on his lips.

She rose from the chair so fast she sent it rocking back and forth. Everything inside her was tap-dancing on fire.

“But  don’t you see it yet?” she said. “That’s almost exactly what happened  to Mister Greenhooves! Nurse Redheart said he was chased by something in  his dream. He didn’t wake up after that. If a Bay-koo or however you  say its name got him… And it’s too similar to Luna’s Tantabus! That got  stronger every time it broke into a dream, and Luna’s guilt was feeding  it, and it didn’t even stop until she got over it –”

Doc laughed. “Oh yes, quite. Luna is a little scamp, isn’t she?”

Roseluck’s tap-dancing mind tripped. “What!?”

“I  mean, she is a bit of a chancer. The Mare in the Moon, Nightmare Moon,  the Tantabus… all the work of one Mistress of the Night. Makes you  think, doesn’t it?”

Helpless, Roseluck took in the fusty smell of  the room. By the tingle of dust and dead heat through her nose, this was  a stallion who forgot to dust and polish his machines. And his room was  a graveyard of ideas, half-constructed and cluttering up all but those  patches he needed to walk through and sit in. A mind like that could go  anywhere.

No. She stamped a hoof. Any mare who could command bonsais into little pony shapes was not going to leave his wild habits untamed.

“Doc,  please! The pattern’s the same as described in the book…” She flicked a  page ahead and skimmed the text before rounding on him. “Look! It says  one of the symptoms is sleeping for longer and longer over months and  months. Just like Daisy! Then there’s a, um…” She checked again. “An  increasingly depressive mood. Withdrawing from society. Just like Daisy!  And then total loss of consciousness! Consciousness!”

“Unlike Daisy,” said Doc with a stern voice.

“All right, but what about Mister Greenhooves? He’s not exactly Mister Conscious Pony, is he? Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

“Roseluck,”  insisted Doc, but she waved a hoof at him dismissively and rounded on  the book again. All the words slithered across her vision.

“This can’t be a coincidence!” she said.

“Hard to say.”

“Will Daisy end up like that? If we don’t stop it in time –”

“Hard to say.”  Doc coughed for attention. “Roseluck. My dear, dear Roseluck. Please do  not work yourself up. Sans any further clues, it’s not wise to jump to  conclusions.”

Under those words, her rushing blood slowed. She  flinched; his hoof had come to rest on her upper forelimb, and she  relaxed and let him guide her around her seat and across the room to the  armchair. Deep inside, her electric fear went out.

Of course he’s right, she thought irritably. I’m  being stupid again. Jumping into a panic: typical, typical Flower Girl.  I’m not being sciency enough. Jumping to conclusions. Jumping, jumping,  jumping at everything. I’m supposed to be the brave one!

“All right Doc,” she said with a sigh, throwing herself onto the cushion. “I won’t, I won’t. Give me a sec… to catch my breath…”

“That’s quite all right. I too get excited when I think I’m having a breakthrough.”

Miserably,  she didn’t bother to correct him. Doc’s brainpower didn’t extend to  reading body language well. He’d said “excited”, which wasn’t quite the  word she’d have picked.

All around her, the mausoleum of ideas –  without changing at all – came to life. Empty diodes were waiting to be  filled with light. Silent liquids were ready to bubble behind the glass.  The irretrievably complicated tangle of wires and pipes and blocky  bits over there was now just an engine waiting for the right mind to  come and study it. Like a book in another language, but one she knew was  generously waiting for her language lessons, and not hiding spitefully  from her at all.

To get comfortable, Roseluck shuffled in her  seat. Were it not for the maelstrom of mad science piled up all around  her, this would have been quite a pleasant spot for tea.

“Now,”  said Doc; he removed a pile of helmets from a stool and drew up  alongside her. “Let’s go over the facts as they are. That should keep us  cool and level-headed, or as near enough as makes no odds, eh?”

His chummy smile and tones were cushions of their own. Soon, she felt her bones and muscles sinking into the plush fabric.

“First,  plausibility: If it were an odd creature of some sort, then where would  it come from? The Eastern territories are hundreds of miles away, and  I’m pretty sure Baku aren’t native to Equestria. Certainly not the  slap-bang middle of it.”

“But the Tantabus – I mean, what about  the Tantabus, Doc?” Roseluck cocked her head, trying to appear as an  interested colleague rather than as a panicky little foal.

“Ha! That’s definitely gone. I think Luna would have noticed otherwise.”

“Hold on a second… You said once you can’t just rule out an idea like that. How can you be sure – absolutely, positively sure – it isn’t some creepy thing sneaking around pony heads?”

Doc  hummed reluctantly. “A point in favour of the ‘it escaped’ idea,  perhaps, but only in the sense that a staggering boxer with a black eye  and missing teeth hasn’t technically been KO’d yet.”

“Eh?”

“Oh, nothing important.”

On her squishy armchair, she wriggled with glee. Serious scientists, she thought, talking about smart, sciency things! This is where I belong! It must be; I can feel it making my brain bigger!

“OK,”  she said. “What if a piece of Tantabus did escape? If only one pony had  it, no one would know. Luna can’t check all dreams at once, can she?”

“Hm. Fair enough point. Oh, you know about Luna’s limitations, do you?”

Roseluck frowned. “‘Know’? What do you mean, ‘know’? I thought we were speculating, right?”

“Ah.  I see. In that case, let me explain; in fact, I learned this from  Twilight herself. Apparently, she tipped Luna off about some fillies in  town – they called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders, you know – and  Luna went on to monitor the CMC – that’s short for ‘Cutie Mark  Crusaders’ –”

“I know,” said Roseluck, biting with impatience.

“Intrigued,  I did a little digging at the time. Called a few relatives out of town,  pulled a few strings, you get the idea. That’s how Luna operates, it  turns out. Using a network established since her return, she figures out  from the grapevine where the likeliest bad dream hotspots are. Kind of  like a magician eavesdropping on an audience before going onstage and  announcing, with utter psychic conviction, that there was someone there  with a heart murmur and a third cousin twice removed who was suffering  from a gambling addiction.” He neighed in alarm. “Though for heaven’s  sake, don’t tell Princess Luna I made that comparison!”

Roseluck’s mouth was dry. Tea was starting to sound good right around this point.

“How do you know all that stuff about the CMC?” she said. “Luna told you?”

“No,  the CMC did. They kept boasting about it after they met in one of their  dreams, or something. But what an idea, eh? Dream-hopping! Think of all  the secrets you could learn by navigating the pony psyche!”

From  his familiar manic grin, Roseluck turned her gaze away. She was  wondering if he had actually thought about it. Herself, she’d gotten to  the bit where they sued you for invasion of privacy.

“It proves,”  said Doc, spittle flying as he wound himself up to a frenzy, “that  individuals can cross over, at least with Luna’s help, and since there’s  a magical way, ergo there’s a better science way of achieving the same result! Hence the Oneiro-Scope, a triumph of modern scientific –”

“Yes,  how does that work?” said Roseluck, suspicion prodding her brain. “I  thought you needed big machines just to read pony brainwaves. That’s  what you said.”

“Never mind what I said.” Doc tugged at his collar. “The point is it works scientifically. Using science. In a sciency, and therefore non-magical way.”

“That’s  another thing,” said Roseluck, unable to stop her mouth even as her  eyes widened at his scowl. “I like science, don’t get me wrong, but… but  magic isn’t that bad, is it?”

Doc’s lips made a thin line. But what was so wrong about the question? It seemed innocent enough to her.

“I’ve  nothing against it,” he said calmly, and it was the special sort of  calm that preceded a dam bursting and a town being flooded. “However,  sooner or later, Equestria must come out of its dark ages and accept a  brighter, more reliable future. Anyway, it’s more democratic. The day  when earth ponies – oh, and pegasi – can wield the sort of power  unicorns hoard at the moment: that’ll be the day when wonders will be  open to everyone.”

“But you can get magical tools in the  shops,” said Roseluck. It was uncanny, part of her was thinking. She had  this strange desire to throw torches into a fireworks factory, solely  because it hadn’t exploded yet.

Doc rolled his eyes and rapped the  arm of the chair smartly. “We’re getting off-topic. If I may redirect  our attention for a moment…”

He ducked down. When he reappeared, another book was clasped between his ergots and his hooves.

“You,” said Roseluck, “were reading a book on depression?”

“Nightmares and sleeping disorders are recognized symptoms of depression, yes. Think about it –”

“Oh, please no.” She gripped her head as the trumpets sounded and the ideas threw themselves into war. “I can’t stand this!”

“What’s  wrong?” Doc slipped off his stool and thumped onto the ground; judging  from the clatter, he’d knocked some of his inventions over.

“How do you do it, Doc?”

“Do what? Poor Roseluck, whatever’s the matter!?”

“Think  like this? With all this, this… not knowing! One minute, it’s ‘maybe  that’ and ‘here are the facts’, and then you go and talk about something  else! Back to square one and going round in circles!”

“Eh?”

“All  we’ve got is a Tantabus attack that can’t have happened because the  Tantabus was destroyed, and the only connection Daisy and Mister  Greenhooves have got is that they were… they were mopé, or moppy, or  whatever. And they hid away and slept a lot. And now you’re telling me I  can’t think this or that, but it makes so much sense. Why can’t I think that!? I don’t know what to do!”

She  slumped on the seat, so weighed down with the thundering hooves of  battling ideas that the chair creaked and she felt her spine judder  under every inch lost. For a moment, the junk-pile around her looked how  her mind felt: lots of bit-parts and no single working machine anywhere  among the lot.

Doc patted her on the hoof. “We’re getting there,  don’t you fret. Sadly, the information is somewhat limited. For all we  know, this could possibly be a rare disease –”

Seconds from  bewailing the bad news, Roseluck opened her mouth… and then rammed it  shut again. Her inner scientist would think she was being stupid.

“– though how a rare disease managed to sneak into Ponyville and coincidentally claim two random ponies is a mystery to me.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” muttered Roseluck. “And I will prove it.”

“That’s not jumping to conclusions. That’s pole-vaulting Ghastly Gorge to conclusions.”

“There’s still room for dream creatures,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“Oh dear.” Doc covered his face and turned away. “Intuition. Not a good move.”

“Just because we’ve got no proof, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“No, but that’s the way to bet. Unless you’re the third cousin twice removed, of course.”

“Pardon?”

Doc  met her gaze again, his mouth slanted as though skepticism had sat on  one end of a see saw and was wondering why no one was playing with it.  He gave way to a look of utter hopelessness, mouth slightly ajar, eyes  hiding under the hood of his worried brow. That was an expression  expecting rain.

“Your friends have been alone for a while,” he  said. “Remember: they’re asleep. What’ll happen is we go back and find  them exactly where we left them.”

“Now who’s going beyond the  evidence?” she said, but her lungs swelled with newfound hope. She’d  follow him to a dozen more places, so long as she could believe those  words. That he’d picked the exact worry right out of her brain proved  what she’d known all along; under his dapper collar-and-tie ensemble,  behind his unremarkable brown coat, beat a heart attuned to hers…

She  slipped off the armchair and gave the junk a once-over as though she  knew exactly what she were looking for. “Can’t we at least try to find  out? That’s what a scientist would do. Well, how would we prove the  presence of a Tantabus or a Baku?”

“How to disprove it?” Grunting,  Doc got to his hooves too. “It’s basic logic. If one thing is true, and  only if that one thing is true, then another thing will be true.”

“I’m sorry?” Roseluck took tiny breaths; that smell was caking the insides of her nasal chambers, from the clammy feel of it.

“I  meant: Look for clues only a Tantabus or a Baku would produce. If and  only if they’re there will we have concrete evidence of its presence!”

“You mean get into a dream?” Roseluck rounded on him, face blooming. “You’ve got another helmet-thing?”

“Oneiro-Scope.  And no I haven’t. Anyway, what good would it do? We’d be stuck in the  dream with the thing; that’s like sticking your head into a burning  building to see if the fire’s still there. No, my dear Roseluck, we  can’t enter dreams. We can’t even enter pony minds.” Under his breath,  he muttered, “How a dream creature’s supposed to get there anyway… now  that is another problem…”

“Make a detector!” Once more, Roseluck  rushed with what felt at first like the tingling chill of fear, and  then… flowering joy? Excitement? The nectar of sweet pleasure tingled  through her legs and behind her jaw, a sugar rush throughout her whole  body.

“A detector?”

“That’s it!” Skipping over to him, she  giggled and added, “We can do it, Doc! I know this is the right thing to  do! We’ve got a chance! We’ve got science!”

His brow creased. “We?”

“Yes!”

“We… make a detector?”

“You’ve got it in one!”

“Right… so you know how to make one, right?”

Her  skipping stopped. Her feet hit the floor hard. Her full-body sugar rush  hit an instant withdrawal as painful as being hit with a celery club.

“Uh…” she said.

“Yes?”

A leftover giggle tumbled out of her mouth. “Or… I suppose you could make it, and I could… um… offer assistance?”

Comprehension rose along with his eyebrows. “Don’t you fret about that, Roseluck! You’ve done quite enough, I should think.”

“Yay, me.” Wilting, she tried to force a smile to bloom.

“After all, we’ve come up with something useful, haven’t we, just by talking?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s been good, us two, working together.”

“I expect you’d like a good rest now to keep that cerebral cortex from overheating, eh?” He winked.

Thus Roseluck’s mind walked straight into a brick wall.

She pursed her lips around the question…

“Wh–?” was as far as she got.

“Oh,  it’s quite all right. I wouldn’t want you to put yourself out,  especially not after all you’ve been through so far. What kind of friend  would I be if I made you work your horseshoes off, eh?”

Now Roseluck’s mind fell backwards into an open hole. She had the definite sensation of falling rapidly away from the light.

“Wha? Friend?” was what she managed.

“In  fact,” said Doc, his voice cheerfully bulldozing through her senses, “I  happen to know a mare who can give us the extra help we need.”

And for the finisher, Roseluck’s mind hit the water below with a sickening belly-flop. She winced and her stomach jolted.

“What!?” she squeaked.

In a strange, parallel universe muffled behind her shock, Doc glanced at a clock on the wall.

“Ah,  she should be on her rounds by now. I’ll give her a call.” Having thus  delivered the death-knell, he strode around and through the heaps of  machinery and swung the curtains aside.

Outside, the metallic clunk of a trash can lid heralded the shuffling of someone rummaging through bags.

The  smell in the room had been bad enough, but already the smell from  outside ran towards Roseluck and mugged her nostrils. Odours of rotting  fruit punched so hard she held her breath and weathered the beating.

“Quickfix!” Doc called. “Out foraging again, I see!”

From  outside, a chipper voice – and, to Roseluck’s horror, definitely a  female one – responded, “One mare’s garbage is another mare’s treasure,  Doc!”

“Excellent! Listen, I could do with a pair of quick hooves and a strong horn like yours! Fancy talking shop for a moment!?”

“Haha! Another commish, is it?”

Quick hooves, thought Roseluck in icy writing, as though the voices graffitied her skull with ice spray. Strong horn. Another commish. Oh my gosh, how long has he known a mare I haven’t even met!?

To  her horror, a unicorn mare clambered through the window before Doc  closed the curtains again. Instantly, the smell brought reinforcements;  Roseluck couldn’t take a breath without a gang of stinging, kicking,  burning stenches pouncing on her insides.

The newcomer, the  intruder, the secret mare Quickfix gave her a grin which had far too  many teeth. It was only a mercy they were white and not, for instance,  rotten brown.

“Got an assistant, I see?” Quickfix nodded towards her.

“In a manner of speaking, ha!” Doc rubbed his forelegs together so fast they almost caught fire. “Got a little job for you.”

“Well, strike while the iron is hot, I say. Got my work cut out for me, have I?”

“Gotta go at nineteen to the dozen, Quickfix.”

“Ooh, at full blast, huh? I like the sound of this already.”

The  words mowed Roseluck down. Here was a mare. She was talking to Doc. Doc  was talking to her. Every bit of truth, every smile, every rush of  winks and nods and laughs and hoof-rubs was a blade cutting her lonely  flower down to the lawn. And she’d risen so high above the grass…

Tears blurred her eyes, though that might have just been the smell. “Is there… anything I can do?”

When  the unicorn mare strode forwards to give her a pat, she recoiled.  Whether said mare noticed or not, her grin never faltered.

“Nah,  it’s all right. Docky and I got this, love. You go get a cuppa, or  something, eh? No point you standing around on tenterhooks, right?”

“You stole the words right off my tongue, Quickie!” Doc laughed, reaching into the nearest pile.

Roseluck tightened her jaw. She fought not to breathe in.

“OK,” she murmured. “If anyone wants me…” She glanced at the door. “I’ll be outside.”

“So what’s the commish?” she heard Quickfix say on the way out.

She  didn’t hear what Doc said. By the time she was out the door, she shut  it fast and went off to find enough tea to drown herself. After all, she thought while trying not to drown in rising misery, what could I do really? Just get in the way. Flower Girl does nothing but get in the way.

In the end, she had coffee, because Doc had forgotten to stock up on her favourite tea again.




> Drifting Away…
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I need to stop,” moaned Lily.

Daisy wanted to scream with impatience, but pity and guilt won out; she remained firmly silent.

The  sundews surrounded them both, like parodies of cacti in the desert  darkness. Instead of thorns, though, they bulged with dewdrops on the  tips of stalks, watching the ponies’ progress with a million eyes.

“Let’s keep going,” she said as kindly as possible. “We won’t leave if we don’t make an effort.”

“How  do you know!?” wailed Lily. “A moment ago, you said you didn’t know how  to get out! Oh, this is it, isn’t it? There’s no hope of escape! We’re  trapped! Trapped!”

Not that she’d admit it herself, but Daisy was  aching along her limbs. To hear her own worries shouted aloud in that  ridiculous voice, though…

Daisy ground her teeth. She said, with  her voice box straining to be calm, “Please, Lily. I know this is my fault, and I accept that. But if you dare say ‘The horror, the  horror!’ one more time… Aha! Here we go.”

“What? What!?”

Nodding,  Daisy indicated a green hunch emerging from the blackness. The island  was clear of plants, and a perfect replica of the other one she’d used.  Almost as if the dream were listening to Lily’s complaints.

Both  of them headed straight for it, splashing up the slope and standing and  panting. Which puzzled Daisy: surely, stopping to rest should be more  out of mental habit than actual physical need. If “physical need” even  meant anything when walking through a dream. Yet the ache felt real  enough.

A slap: she turned to find Lily flat on her stomach, utterly defeated.

“Wow,” Daisy said with a weak chuckle, “you must be really tired. Not used to walking so much?”

“Oh, what’s the point?” Lily spoke so that her jaw pressed against the lump  and the skull waggled instead. “We’re never getting out of here.”

“Chin up, Lily.” Daisy reached over to give her an encouraging nudge, but relented instead and brought her hoof down. She hadn't quite earned that right, yet. Not after what they'd just been through.

Not after I almost… I mean, I was so, so close to… Oh, Lily…

Lily’s head shot up.

She stared out at the blackness.

Then her whole body jumped up into a sitting position, upright and alert. “What was that!?”

“What?” Daisy licked her dry lips.

“I saw something move! Over there!”

Dutifully, Daisy followed her friend’s pointing hoof. After a while, she said, “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“I…” Lily lowered her forelimb. “I thought I saw something.”

“Oh, Lily. Please don’t start getting jumpy. I'm on edge enough as it is.”

To  her surprise, she saw Lily hang her head in shame. Normally around this  point, the two would launch into a rather loud discussion on the  subject of paranoia. Even Lily’s ears hung themselves.

Daisy grimaced. Not that she deserved to hold her own in an argument. She, Daisy, the so-called sensible one, after all that they'd been through, after all she'd put Lily through, had almost slipped back into bad habits again. Hadn't she learned by now?

Lily didn’t  speak for a long time, and that was really worrying, because in a  paranoid mood Lily could talk the hind legs off a donkey and still make  him run away screaming.

What am I doing? Daisy looked aside, surrounded by more sundews which closed in like a crowd. I shouldn’t have a go at her. I’m the reason she’s stuck here to begin with. She came here because of me!

I have to look out for her.

Oh, but what if she’s right? What if she’s stuck here too?

We’ll  never see Roseluck again. I’ll never get to hear her talking about  whatever latest gadget and gizmo Doc’s smashed together. I mean, it’s  not like I enjoyed the idea of him trying to make a time machine, but at  least Rose always had that lovely smile when she talked about him.

Her lip started to tremble; hastily, she bit it hard.

And  Goldengrape! I never had a chance to see Goldengrape. Not for the last  time. Not properly. Oh, I don’t care if he’s much too much like an  overgrown colt and can’t tell a joke to save his hide. I should have  talked to him. Said something… Said… Said…

She insisted to her tender eyes that they weren’t going to cry. She wasn't a child anymore.

I told him to stay away. And he listened to me! He didn’t even break his promise! And I told him to stay away!

True,  she hadn’t expected this at the time. Presumably, she’d thought of  visiting him later in the week. Her memory was confused on that front.  Even if she had, though, the mere thought of it bit harder.

That’s not how it’s supposed to end! It’s not! He deserved better than that! Oh, Goldengrape, I’m so, so sorry… I never told you a thing…

The  haunting faces of Roseluck and Lily stared at her, deep within her own  mind, yet at the same time they were unfathomably far, well out of  reach, and leaving her behind. She hadn't told them either.

The secret.

Well, OK, she’d told Roseluck, or at least had tried to. But she’d never told Lily.

Opening her mouth, she felt her heart leap for freedom. Anxiety slammed her mouth shut again.

No,  that was nothing. She was letting this place – or more likely, Lily’s  pointing-and-staring stunt – get to her. If she buckled, the whole thing  would come down. Never, ever buckle.

Anyway, there was no actual  need to reveal anything, was there? It’s not as if it were true anymore.  No: Lily was definitely getting to her. Honestly, this was just another  dream. It’s not as if they were doomed, when they were in a mere dream.

A dream that felt so real, that every nerve ached along her legs.

Every drop of water on her forelimbs – when she brought them up for inspection – gleamed as convincingly as real drops.

Her  own head buzzed and darted and flurried under the storm of  half-thoughts and alerts and momentary idle senses and smells, exactly  as though she were fully awake and conscious.

Yet here she was, in  a world where sundews were as tall as trees. Water stretched for miles  around and yet remained no deeper than wading height. Lastly, that  random black mist looked like nothing she’d ever seen while awake.

Well, that was it, then. She was going mad. On top of that, she was taking Lily with her.

Lily, who was sitting there, glancing about and occasionally giving a start as though someone had pounced.

Frantically, Daisy shook her head. No  chance! I’m not going mad! I’m not supposed to go mad! And if I am  going mad… that’s hardly an excuse to let Lily go the same way, is it?  Come on, Daisy; think! It’s up to you how far down loony lane we wander.

I  need an anchor. No, more like a plant pot full of soil. Something to  plant ourselves in and hold on to. Something that keeps us together.

“You remember the good old days –?” she began.

Lily rounded on her. “What? What’s this all of a sudden?”

“Just  asking, just asking. You remember them, don’t you? All our school  lessons together… our travels around the country… when we first set up  shop in Ponyville and had all those crazy, exciting ideas –”

“Are you trying to make me feel better? Because the last time we tried this happy memories thing, I almost got eaten. So if you're trying to make me feel better –”

Daisy’s sigh stretched. Too much was going on for her to muster up a lie.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

Lily went back to her jumpy, twitchy inspection of the surrounding darkness.

Then  she added, “Um. Well, I did like the travelling. School was a pain, but going out  and seeing all those shining meadows… That was a sight worth a split  hoof.”

The corner of Daisy’s lip ventured a smile. “Certainly inspiring.”

“Ha,”  said Lily, turning to beam at her, “remember on Clover’s Creek, when we  met that deer near the forest, and Roseluck turned around and said,  ‘Life is so fascinating! I wanna go to Canterlot like all the unicorns  and study biology.’”

“Ha, yes. I told her she’d better start saving up for the fees, then. Oh boy, did she give me the evil eye for that.”

“Yeah,  that was funny,” said Lily with a chuckle. “She wouldn’t have liked it,  anyway. She only wanted to study plants, not animals.”

Daisy’s smile spread down her lips to encourage the other side of her mouth. “I liked your suggestion, though?”

“Which one? I made so many.”

“The one about taking up drama. Very appropriate for you.”

“Yes, well, I do have a flair for the literary, do I not?”

“Actually, I was thinking how much of a drama queen you were.”

“Oh,  don’t you start that again.” Yet Lily’s hoof-bop, when it came to  Daisy’s muzzle, was gentle, and delivered with another chuckle. “Hey,  this cheering up thing was a good idea. I feel better already.”

“Glad to hear it!” Almost reaching up to her eyes now, the smile warmed her up.

“I don’t remember what you said you’d like to do,” said Lily. She nodded encouragingly.

After a while, she nodded again.

After a second while, her face fell. “Don’t you remember?”

The smile cooled. “N… No? I thought you and Roseluck remembered.”

“Uh… I don’t actually remember you saying anything. Not in so many words. Why, don’t you? You don’t, do you?”

I did.

I remember I didn’t say anything.

“Uh…” she said, fighting to keep the smile. “Never mind. Me? It was probably something childish, anyway.”

“Oh.”

As  clear as her reflection on a steady pond, the day came back to her.  There were bluebells blushing underfoot. They heard the whistles and  beeps and chattering chirps of a friendly nightingale. All three of them  stood side-by-side, Daisy at the core and the other two standing on  either side, their mere presence coddling hers as though she could feel  the natural heat of their living bodies.

She’d thought every day  was going to be sunny. She couldn’t quite remember if she’d actually  said as much; everything before the florist’s was a tangle of  impressions. Only bits and pieces made sense from the whole.

“Come on.” Reluctance weighing her down, she heaved herself onto all fours. “Rest’s over. We need to keep going.”

“Oh.” Lily’s voice was small. “OK, then.” Halfway down the slope, Daisy heard: “You sure you don’t know where you’re going?”

She didn’t look back, or even stop. “Not right now, but it’s only a matter of time, right?”

“Er, is it?”

“Of course! You don’t expect us to get out by hanging around here, do you?”

They  met the water, and the sloshing fell into step alongside them. Even  Daisy looked over her shoulder and watched the island fade into the  blackness.

“I do feel a bit better,” Lily said; her voice remained small. “Thanks for that.”

Gamely,  Daisy stretched the remnants of her smile for one last push. Her mind  was alone again, though. The memory, awoken by her prodding, rumbled and  blared deep within. Rising to the surface.

She didn’t speak.  She’d rather remember this one alone. Anyway, she’d only told Roseluck  the secret, or tried to. Lily didn’t have the full memory.

Come to that, she wondered if Roseluck remembered it. Probably not. Not anymore. She’d thought it was nothing.

The tears threatened. Angry and ashamed, she clenched her cheeks for the effort and forced them down.

But now the memory came back strong, and Daisy walked on in silence while it worked its magic over her mind. And this time she kept it there; any time a patch of white tried to fade into view before her, she willed it to go down, until it opened instead inside her mind, where Lily especially couldn't see it.

Daisy closed her eyes tight, willing the thing to stay out of sight. She didn't worry about walking into anything; after all, if the previous memory had proven anything, it was that she had a slight but substantial control over things in her own dream.

Behind her eyelids, the memory brightened and rose in intensity, until she had to grit her teeth hard enough to hurt her gums, and thus remind herself that she wasn't actually there, all those years ago, standing before the florist's for the first time…




> …The Day They Planted the Seeds…
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every day was going to be sunny. That’s what they’d believed, on that first day, when they’d stood outside the florist’s for the first time. Not even the sun was shining as much as the lights in their eyes.

Daisy hopped forwards and beamed at the other two, rearing up to sweep a gesture over the building. “Well girls, did I deliver or did I de-li-ver?”

“Don’t get cocky. We haven’t even moved in yet,” Lily said, but more out of habit than actual animosity; her lights dimmed for only a moment. “For all we know, it could turn out to be a death-trap. Why’s it black-and-white?”

“I’ve heard of that,” piped up Roseluck. “It’s because it’s… what was the word…? Ah! Wattle-and-daub! That’s it. They used to make it using a load of cow manure, and –”

“Forget I asked,” Lily said quickly.

“Come on,” said Daisy, who fell back down onto all fours. “We’ve got all the time in the world to spruce up this place. At least the thatch is holding up well, and it’s very close to the Ponyville market.”

“I still say we should’ve bought a stall,” said Lily.

“Maybe later,” said Roseluck. She tapped her chin. “Although we must make this place look more… flowery.”

“Go on, Rose.” Daisy nodded to show willing. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Lily opened her mouth.

“Maybe later, we said,” muttered Daisy.

Lily glared and shut her mouth.

“As I was saying: go on, Rose.”

“Well…” Out of sheer nerves, Rose glanced at Lily and Daisy again before continuing, “Black and white isn’t really our colour scheme, is it? I was thinking a lovely mix of greens and pinks. Ooh, ooh, and I liked Lily’s idea about having a sign over the door.”

“Uh huh? Hanging off that balcony thing, you mean?”

“And,” said Lily, desperate not to be left out, “maybe we should hang some baskets there, and there, and just over there. Don’t simply put stock out the front on a boring display. Show the world the florist’s will flourish.”

“Yeah!” Roseluck’s front rose off the ground in excitement. “And, and, and we could twine some vine around the balcony rail. Nothing, you know, over-the-top. Keep it subtle. Delicate, even.”

Breathing the sweet country air, full of rich meadow perfumes and the lush scents of rain-kissed grasses, Daisy wiped her eyes. “Lily. Rose. You don’t know… how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“Oh, Daisy. Please don’t.” Roseluck cooed and stepped forwards to pat her on the shoulders.

“I mean, we’ve talked about it for years, and I was starting to think we’d never do it. Us. All three of us. Our own florist’s.”

“They were some pretty good years,” Lily said. Following Roseluck’s example, she went to stand by Daisy’s side and rubbed her from neck to flank gently. “Think of it this way; we’ll be doing the exact same job we’ve been doing since school together. Only this time, we’re indoors and not standing outside on a street corner.”

“Or at that home-made stand that kept falling over when the breeze picked up,” said Roseluck.

“I know, I know.” Sniffing, Daisy wiped her nose on the back of her hoof. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“No, Daisy, please don’t think that.”

“There, there,” said Lily brightly. “This is your big moment, fair enough, but we got this, all three of us. And this is just the start! We’ll get so used to the new place, we’ll forget things were any different!”

“And,” said Roseluck, “we’ve still got some of my bouquets left over from the Summer Sun Celebration. That’ll keep us going while we set up shop.”

“All I have to do is wheel the garden plants over, do a bit of digging out the back, and voila! Or ‘voi-lets!’ if you like. Our brave new world begins!”

The two of them simply patted or rubbed while Daisy tried to climb down from whatever heights her mind had soared towards, far up high and lost for breath or words.

“Brave new world?” Daisy sniffed damply.

“I’ve been doing some reading,” said Lily in what she clearly thought was a casual voice. “Classics, mainly. That was from The Turbulence. Oh, and I’ve almost finished Core of Shadows, at the moment, actually.”

Eventually, Daisy took a weak breath and nodded. As one, the others stepped aside to let her have room.

“You’re right…” she mumbled. More eloquently, she continued, “You’re right. But I feel as though I’ve taken my first step, on… on this grand adventure.”

“Whoa,” said Roseluck, chuckling. “Trim that particular branch, Daisy. We’re only opening a shop.”

Lily snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re not excited?”

“Excited? Of course I’m excited! This is the greatest moment of my life!” Hastily, Roseluck coughed and shrank back down. “I simply don’t get carried away. That easily. Not me.”

“Right. Not you.”

Shaking her head at them both, Daisy stepped away to take in the entire front of the cottage. No, correction: of what had once been a cottage. The last owner was merely another pony among ponies. They, however? They were going to turn this place into an emporium of colours. A home for Celestia’s gift to the world. The sanctuary for sun-soaked leaves and complex petals, mazes for the eye to run through, and galleries so rich any visitor would lose themselves…

Roseluck backed into place beside her. “Our brave new world. Like Lily said.”

“Yeah,” was all they could get out of Daisy.

“We’re gonna be the greatest florists Ponyville ever had.” Lily took her place on the other side.

“Yeah.”

They bathed in the moment, warmed by the sun, and cooled by the flow of the breeze like water seeping through their limbs to quench their hearts.

“How many’s that, exactly?” said Roseluck.

“Oh,” Lily said with a tut in her voice, “trust you to ruin the mood.”

“Do you hear something?” said Daisy. She cocked an ear.

They raised an eyebrow each at her, and then did the same. Nothing at first…

“I must have imagined it –” Daisy began.

“No, I hear it too.” Roseluck’s ear swivelled, aiming down the street. “It’s coming from over there.”

Lily copied her, but with both ears and a frown of concentration. “Well, I don’t hear anything – wait! Now I hear it! That thundering noise.”

As one, they looked up.

“No storm clouds, though,” said Daisy. “And is it me, or does it sound like it’s getting closer?”

“It kind of does, doesn’t it?” said Roseluck.

Rumbles suggested themselves as the tremor slowly crept up their stiffened limbs. Peering down the street, they saw the distant haze of brown against the endless green of Ponyville’s vegetarian-inspired lanes and streets. Possibly a pony shrieked or yelled: hard to tell from here.

“Uh… girls…” Lily gulped.

Daisy sidled up to the cottage’s front door. Unspoken, and yet spreading among them loud and clear, the panic played over their faces, and they met each other’s eyes.

“That brown thing…” Roseluck bit her lip.

“It looks exactly like something that’s coming this way, doesn’t it?” said Daisy. “Not that it is, of course.”

They watched it for a while. White shapes faded and grew into existence among the oncoming dust cloud. Faint moos heralded them.

At which point, Lily jolted into life and threw herself at the door. “Stampede! STAMPEDE!”

Neither Daisy nor Roseluck waited. The door slammed. The dark interior cradled them. All three pressed their faces against the window, and the glass hummed with vibrations.

Cows. Thundering, bellowing, lowing, mooing, stamping, mud-churning cows. Splattering soil bounced off the windows. Dust outside hid everything below a fleet of boxlike torsos. Ponies opposite peered out of cottage windows or drew back curtains. All three of them yelped as a wide-eyed specimen crashed into the side of the shop, denting the wall, cracking the timber, bulging the wattle-and-daub filling.

Overhead, a trio of pegasi kept pace with the herd. One of them stopped, glowered at the stampede, and then vanished in a flash of rainbows which, on any other day, would have left the beauty-conscious mares fanning their faces out of sheer admiration.

Instead, they huddled together and closed their eyes.

Eventually, the cows’ cacophony swept by. The thundering lowered to a dull silence. Vibrations and tremors died away.

All three of them crouched further. Since they still clung to each other, the result was that Lily rested on Daisy, who in turn rested on Roseluck.

Eyes opened. Now they didn’t have to look at the road outside.

“Daisy?” said Roseluck.

“Y-Yeah?” said Daisy.

“Are you… OK?”

Only brave enough to shake her head, Daisy refused to speak further.

Lily broke ranks; she shot up and gasped. “Oh my gosh! The road! Look what they’ve done to the road!”

“I’d rather not,” whimpered Roseluck. Humming in agreement, Daisy clung tighter to her midriff.

In the end, they did look. It was not a pretty sight.

“Oh my gosh!” said Roseluck. “Those gardens! Look what they’ve done to those gardens!”

“The gardens!?” wailed Lily. “Look what they’ve done to the street!”

As one, they glanced at the dented wall. Fresh screams broke out between Roseluck and Lily. Daisy shrank back, breaking out of their scared scrum.

“Just like that…” she breathed.

“Look what they’ve done to our shop!” the other two shouted, right in each other’s faces.

“The horror! The horror!” cried Lily, and she curled up on the floorboards.

Around them, the interior was nothing. Empty as a crate, throwing their voices back at them, and smelling of disinfectant and cleaning fluids: their cottage left them abandoned amid dead timber and lifeless dust.

“What?” said Daisy. Her voice echoed woodenly amid the caged silence.

“It’s what Ivory Curse said near the end of Core of Shadows.” Lily spoke through her curled-up forelimbs. “This is it, girls! This is the dark heart of Equestria! There we were, thinking we’d have our best chance in Ponyville town, and now BOOM! The shadows found us! We’re doomed! Doomed! Oh, the horror! The horror! The horror!”

“D-Don’t t-t-talk like that, L-L-Lily…” Roseluck gripped her and tried to curl up beside her. “It’s n-not that b-b-bad.”

“We’ll get trampled on! We’ll get squashed!”

“Squashed!?” squeaked Roseluck.

“We’ll get annihilated!”

“Annihilated!?” squeaked Daisy.

“And the flowers!” Lily wailed. “Those poor flowers! What if we’d brought them today!? We nearly brought them up here, today, when that happened!”

Suddenly overcome, they all slumped onto the floor. Three thumps rang on through the ensuing silence whilst they lay there, dazed by their own nightmares.

“‘Horror’ is right,” groaned Roseluck into the floorboards. “This world wasn’t meant to have us in it. No matter where we go, something dreadful is gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Monster attacks,” whispered Daisy on her back.

“Deadly diseases,” whined Lily on her side.

“Overcrowding ponies,” moaned Roseluck on her front.

“Tight deadlines.”

“Ruined flowers.”

“Evil curses and wicked enchantresses!”

Lily sat up. “Hey, that’s not fair. You just said two things. Give us a fair turn.”

“Sorry,” said Roseluck, raising her head off the ground.

Both of them flopped and groped and eased themselves off the floor, standing shakily on all fours. Enclosed within these four walls, they could forget the world outside for a moment.

Daisy rolled and turned her back on them. Hooves clopped over to her.

“Er…” said Lily.

“Daisy?” whispered Roseluck. “Are you OK? You’re usually up first.”

Sighing, Daisy slumped and fell onto her spine. Her curls bunched behind her head as the only cushion she was likely to get in life. Her limbs stuck straight up as though in rapid rigor mortis.

“Who are we kidding?” she said. “In a classroom, on a street, outside our own shop… It doesn’t matter where we are. We don’t change. We can’t change. ‘Delicate little flowers’, they said.”

The other two exchanged blank, careful faces.

“We’re getting better at it,” Roseluck said. “After all, we didn’t pass out that time.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Lily said.

“Yeah, and where does that end?” On the floor, Daisy’s head sank further until it tilted up and she stared at the untouched ceiling, seeing nothing. “Let’s face it; even among other ponies, we’re jumpy. We’re just jokes.”

“Please get up,” said Roseluck, nudging her leg.

“I don’t want to.” Daisy’s eyelids began to creep over her eyes. “I just want to lie here, where it’s nice and peaceful, and just… rest.”

Lily gave her leg a kick. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not leaving us to do all the work. Come on, Daisy. This isn’t funny.”

“You don’t have to work,” Daisy snapped. More calmly, she said, “Why not take a nap, though? After all, nothing bad ever happens to you in a dream. No one laughs at you or makes comments about what a coward you are. Left alone in your own world, where there’s nothing horrible, and there are no consequences. No responsibilities. Only you, your mind, and your own place, where no one can –”

“Look,” said Lily with teeth-clenched sympathy, “I get it. We’re all scared. But with the three of us together –”

“Scared?” Daisy sat up so fast she almost rocked herself forwards and onto all fours; the other two stepped smartly out of range. “Excuse me? I just want a timeout, that’s all. ‘Scared’. Pfft.”

They didn’t say anything else, but Daisy rolled onto her back again and the three of them glared at each other.

Sadly, it was all true. For each of them, from sunrise to sunset, the nostalgia when they rose out of bed matched only the relief when they got into it again. Dreams were soft. Dreams flowed. Best of all, dreams weren’t real. They didn’t hold the girls’ reputation like a limp flower between hooves, all too easily snapped or plucked or dropped and stepped upon.

At least this was Ponyville. The town was so full of weirdoes that three more – even three scaredy-cats who were the first indoors if it so much as rained out of schedule – didn’t draw much comment. No one was rude, per se, except for Shoeshine, who seemed constitutionally incapable of not being rude.

But the instant the three ponies screamed or fainted or yelled terrible things, anyone nearby would whisper, or glance sidelong, or shake their heads meaningfully. Daisy, Lily, and Roseluck, they’d say: those three could make a murder inquiry out of a dead magnolia. They’re like overgrown breezies in a gale.

Why didn’t they just hide from the world, for their own good?

And it was no good whatsoever pointing out that the destruction of a flower – the desecration of beauty – was indeed a high crime. That kind of response did nothing to stop the whispers and the glances and the head-shaking. Eventually, it became normal. Three cowards, trapped between the pages of a popular book, their cowardice preserved in the public consciousness. Even other flower ponies, like Junebug, thought they were drama queens.

Worse, they’d objected when they were foals once. They’d said they had other interests. And…

Well, at least their cowardice got them some kind of notice. Otherwise, they were just another bunch of earth ponies. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable. All as ephemeral as spring crocuses.

So they’d become the Flower Trio. They had to. They lived on their nerves so often that sooner or later they’d need new ones, and thus they lived on each other’s nerves too. Years had passed before they could even afford this place.

“All right,” said Daisy, defeated. She scrambled onto her four hooves again. “Now what?”

“Erm,” said Roseluck. “I was kinda hoping you’d tell us.”

Daisy looked from one concerned face to the other. “Why? You don’t want to change the plan?”

“Do you?” said Lily.

“Me? I hadn’t even thought about it! Why me?”

“Well, you are the one who bought this place,” said Roseluck, blushing.

“So what? It’s our place, not mine. Look, let’s get the stuff and set up, OK? I’ll feel better in a minute. Just give me some time… to steady myself… and then we’re good.”

“See? You always know what to do!” said Roseluck brightly. “You’re so can-do about everything! If there’s a smashed pot to pick up, or a tally to take, or a corsage to consider, you’re there!”

“Um…” said Daisy. “Well… I suppose the plan hasn’t really changed. Don’t leave anything outside, in case of – Well, just don’t leave anything outside. We’ll have to get someone to look at that wall… Big Mac might do it, and we will pay him for his trouble Lily yes I’m looking at you.”

“What!?” Lily spluttered. “But he always says ‘No charge!’”

“And I say we uphold trading standards, and if Big Mac takes time and effort to fix that wall –”

“He’s built like an ox! Time and effort do not apply!”

“– then we will give him something for his trouble.” More gently, she added, “It’s the principle of the thing.”

Roseluck flapped a foreleg with excitement. “Or, or, or we could do it ourselves? That’d save on money and get our wall back into shape quick as a wink.”

Not for the first time in her life, and definitely not for the last, Daisy sighed in the wake of Roseluck’s enthusiasm. “No, Roseluck, because Lily knows nothing about wall repair, I know nothing about wall repair, and the only thing you know about wall repair is when you’ve done something that needs it.”

“I’ve been really good about that lately,” said Roseluck, and there was a yip of pain in her voice. “I’ll find something I’m good at other than botany.”

“And I’ll be right there behind you –”

“With a hard hat,” muttered Lily.

“– and so will Lily –”

“Also with a hard hat.”

“– but until then, we’ve run out of walls to safely demolish. So please, please, please just keep to the schedule? And no more interior decorating, OK? Please?”

Some ponies used the puppy dog pout, others used the watery eye treatment, but Daisy managed the same effect with a smile like a… well, like a daisy. Small, pretty, requiring little effort to find, and more effective at melting Roseluck’s heart than a dragon going against a shield made of chocolate.

“Oh all right,” said Roseluck.

“I admire your drive and passion, Rose, but there’s a time and place to experiment, OK?”

“OK.”

Satisfied, Daisy nodded and turned to Lily. “As for you, Lily, I think we’ll take care of that digging –”

“Excuse me,” said Lily at once, “but I don’t remember electing you President of the Flower Nation.”

“No,” muttered Daisy, but not quietly enough. “You’d vote for yours truly.”

“Well, you’d vote for yours truly too!”

“I’d vote for a coalition!” said Roseluck brightly. Her “brightly” was a warning light, cracking slightly.

“I have a much better idea,” said Lily – her pink face reddening as she spoke – and she stormed over to the window. “After that, we ought to do a risk assessment. List every little thing that could possibly go wrong, and find some way to anticipate each one.”

“Like what?” snapped Daisy.

Dramatically lit by the sunlit cottages through the window – and almost certainly why she’d chosen to stand there in the first place – Lily spun on the spot, face about to explode. “Meteor strikes.”

While the ponies outside left their doors and chattered and milled about doing something, Daisy waited before speaking. “Oh, for Pete’s sake…”

“No, it’s a very serious and highly relevant issue! According to several files from the Royal Astronomer’s Society of Canterlot, the likelihood of a meteor strike is always at the soonest possible time, with the probability getting lower the further away from now you are and the further into the future you go. It’s science!”

“Oooh,” said Roseluck, impressed. “Science said that?”

“Yep,” said Lily smugly. “Therefore, the only sensible course of action is to act today. Now. While you still have a chance.” She looked Daisy up and down. “I notice you didn’t put the survival kit on the list of things to pack, by the way.”

“Lily!” snapped Daisy, and when she snapped a carnivorous flytrap couldn’t have moved faster or snapped louder. “Your conspiracy books are not scientific! They’re written by hacks!”

“Daisy, for shame! I thought you weren’t prejudiced!”

After their lips had moved quietly working this out, Daisy continued, “I meant the other kind of hack. Are you taking those pills Nurse Redheart gave you?”

Lily took a step forwards. “I told you: I don’t trust pills! There could be anything in those little capsules!”

Daisy took a step forwards. “Lily, listen to me: this is a fresh start, and I’m not having you going off on one of your nutty moments ruining it!”

“Well, excuse me if I’m not lackadaisical, Daisy Flower Wishes! You come see me when a meteor flattens the building, and then you can tell me I’m having a nutty moment!”

“Lackadaisical!? This is exactly why they call you ‘Lily-Liver’, did you know that!? This is exactly why they think we’re more highly strung than a grand piano! For once, I want to walk down the street without someone making a comment about my fainting habits!”

“You mean you want to be a boring wallflower no one notices! Just like that pegasus Fluttershy!”

At this Daisy’s mouth was knocked into a little “o”. “Who’s Fluttershy?”

“Exactly my point!”

“Girls, please!” wailed Roseluck.

The two of them blinked, face-to-face and literally so. As one, they backed off.

Daisy’s body went through a series of spasms trying to find something to say. Her mouth spluttered. Then she straightened up.

“Lily, please…”

“All right, all right.” Lily rounded on the door. “I’m going to get the pots. For the good of the Flower Trio: I got it. I’m going, OK?”

There was no bell to jingle. Hinges simply creaked; the four-by-four simply slammed.

Daisy slumped and groaned on the floor, keeling over. Her curly mane cushioned her head again. Taking tiny steps, Roseluck shuffled over to look down at her from the side.

“If I have to go one more round with her…” moaned Daisy.

“Then I’ll know your friendship’s still going strong,” said Roseluck.

“You think that was friendship? I was horrible to her!”

“You work hard. It’s natural to feel a bit stressed when someone starts arguing with you. Just promise me you’ll go easy on her, OK?”

“Lily? Dear gosh, Rose! She’s so utterly sure she’s right all the time –”

“That’s because she’s nervous. She’s worried about us, Daisy, even if she has a weird way of showing it. I’ve heard her go on late at night in her sleep, the poor thing. Trust me, she’ll be feeling as guilty as you right now.”

Daisy’s mouth twisted up with the strain of trying to believe that. She’d never been invited to Lily’s place after dark; much less had she eavesdropped on her in her sleeping bag. Even among the three of them, there seemed to be limits, lines they couldn’t cross, invisible “KEEP OFF THE GRASS” signs, and secret gardens hidden behind gigantic, forbidding walls covered with ivy.

So it was only with a flicker of remorse on her lips that she parted them and asked; “Rose, can you keep a secret?”

“No,” said Roseluck miserably. “I’m terrible with secrets. Mouth like a leaky bucket.” Daisy’s glare prompted her to add, “But I can make exceptions.”

If Daisy had been building up to something, then she clearly wasn’t finished yet; she fidgeted where she lay, twining her hooves with worry, chewing her cheeks and lips. She rolled onto all fours again and headed for the backroom.

“Where are you going?” Roseluck’s voice echoed up the stairs after her.

“I wanna show you something. I moved it here earlier.”

“Moved what here earlier?”

“It’s in the bedroom.” Door creaking, Daisy turned and beckoned her up. “Won’t take long.”

It wasn’t much of a bedroom: one iron bedstead, one stained mattress, and scraps of blue wallpaper in all the corners. Roseluck cringed at the sight of the damp.

“Wow,” she said, “we seriously need to redecorate. Give me five hours and I’m sure I could whip up –”

“Roseluck? Not the time. Ever. Come over here.” Daisy leaped to the bed’s side. “I put it here earlier before fetching you two. Lily shouldn’t need to see this, but I thought you’d understand where I’m coming from.”

“What is it?”

Daisy grinned and fished under the mattress. “You’ll see.”

With a moment to herself, Roseluck took in the rest of the bedroom. Or rather, didn’t: she cringed from it instead. It had all the charm and finish of the room downstairs, crying out for remedy. Damp, dust, and a dismal sense that the last owner had done away with anything too extravagant for a prison cell…

When her gaze fell on Daisy, she stopped cringing. Daisy’s cheeks made roses look pale. Her one foreleg hid something behind her back.

“Rose,” she said, her voice steady for the moment, “we’ve known each other a long time, right?”

“Well, sure, we’ve been friends since the first day of school.”

“Right, right. Um.” She coughed, and now her gaze darted about the room. “Only… you don’t know everything about me. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have even thought about showing you this, and I’m definitely not showing Lily. She’d take it the wrong way.”

Her gaze darted about the room, sure, but definitely not at Roseluck, who pouted suspiciously.

“What’s this leading up to?” she said.

Daisy swallowed. “Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Well, if I don’t know what the joke is, how can I promise I won’t laugh?” At Daisy’s sharp look, she added, “OK, I promise not to laugh. What is this all of a sudden?”

“I’ve never shown anyone this before now,” continued Daisy, and her voice shook. “Up till today, it didn’t matter, because – we – were like – schoolfillies. Only now we’ve actually got a place – I think – before we officially leave – fillyhood – er, um – I should get this out of the way and wave goodbye to it.”

By now, Roseluck was staring at her, stretching her face as though uncertain whether to take a bombshell or take a running jump out the window.

“What –?” she began.

Fluidly, Daisy’s forelimb flexed forwards, and, nestled between hoof and ergot, was a book.

Thump! Onto the floor. Smack! Opened the cover. Daisy rustled through a few pages and then her hoof came down with a slap.

“I’ve had this since I started school…” she said.

Roseluck squinted.

“It’s a picture,” she said. “Of a flower.”

Disappointment crushed her voice. Desperately, the hoof slapped the page again.

“Not just any flower,” said Daisy, tumbling over her words. “This beauty is the Dream Lotus.”

Roseluck shrugged and, typical of her mindset, contrived to add some stoop to it at the same time. “Sorry. It looks like a mauve carnation to me. What is this book?”

“Oh, Lotophagus nozickii,” said Daisy with a shiver of delight. “This, Roseluck –” she tapped the page faster and faster before letting go “– is one of the rarest, most magical, and most unmanageable plants ever known. It’s said that if you infuse a body of water with the crushed petals of the Dream Lotus, a horse hair dipped into it will turn into a snake.”

“Er… is it mythical… or…?”

Daisy tittered. She was not one of nature’s experts in that area, but the tinkling sound sent a shiver of a wholly different kind down Roseluck’s spine.

“You’d have to travel far and wide to find this species,” continued Daisy. “Harder to seek than the four corners of the world. More powerful than the princesses themselves. Wilder than all the mindless monsters combined. Can you imagine how famous someone would be if they succeeded? Found it? Brought it back? Kept it alive and cared for it?”

“Why’s it called the Dream Lotus?” Roseluck leaned sideways trying to read upside-down.

“That’s one of its special powers. You see, legend tells us that anyone who eats the flower will gain the power to enter the world of –”

“And come back?” said Roseluck with sudden sharpness. The voice was a jab with a needle; Daisy jumped.

“Uh…” she said. “No…”

“Why would anyone want that?”

Daisy shrugged. “I don’t know. Not like I – Not like anyone has to eat it. Think of how famous you’d be if you had one, though.”

“This is a real flower, is it?” said Roseluck, narrowing one eye.

“Well, I mean,” said Daisy over her own resurrecting blush, “I was very young at the time, and now – now we’re basically mares – I thought I’d tell someone about… about something secret. I loved the idea. The story was OK, but the idea? That was my childhood dream, to find one of those!”

Showing natural showmareship, she reared up and spread her forelimbs wide. Her smile, for a moment, was a memory of a foal.

Yet Roseluck scowled. “And knowing this, you’ve been picking on Lily the whole time?”

The foal’s memory dashed back into Daisy’s depths. Her widely spread forelimbs inched downwards.

“I, uh… I just…”

“That’s really unfair, you know. How would you like it if I told her what you used to believe in?”

“Don’t!” Daisy lunged for the book, bringing her kneeling before Roseluck. “She wouldn’t understand!”

“I don’t think I do either.” Roseluck shook her head, a pitying crease surrounding her gaze. “What was that, anyway? Sure, it’s a nice story, but it’s not like the flower’s real.”

“Of course… it… isn’t. Just please, please, please don’t tell anyone!”

“What? That it’s not real?”

“No!” Daisy struggled back onto all fours. “That I told you about all this.”

Fortunately, Roseluck decided to back off; she giggled and covered her mouth. Around them, the empty room flatly slapped the echoes onto their ears.

“Daisy, you surprise even me,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone. If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s really cute!”

Daisy’s ears drooped. “I just thought… Well, I wanted to say… Oh, I don’t know. Someone else had to know besides me.” More brusquely, she straightened up and snapped the book shut. “Never mind. The past’s the past. We don’t have time for this. Right now, I’m getting the bit between my teeth.”

“Eh?” said Roseluck, who hadn’t pushed herself in the literary department.

“It means we’ve got work to do!” Daisy’s smile peeked through the clouds again. “Woohoo! I’ll be relieved once we get all this malarkey out of the way, I can tell you that much.”

“Like a hen laying an egg!” said Roseluck, who really hadn’t pushed herself in the literary department.

“Eh?”

“Oh, nothing. Just trying to be smart, I guess.”

Yet on her way out after Roseluck, Daisy stopped, and turned, and took in the room. Bare, except for the bed. The bed: bare except for the book. The book…

Had once been full. But now was bare too.

Roseluck peered over her shoulder. “What is it?”

There were more pressing issues, they knew. Flowers and furniture were only the top of the mountain; holding them up were the lesser figures of their budget. Sure, this budget had come from their child selves, but they were adults, and adults did not hang about when the shop didn’t even have a bell.

Still, Daisy did not move.

When Roseluck opened her mouth to ask, she finally heard Daisy say, “Just give me a minute. I’ll catch you up.”

Astonishingly, the mare followed this up by striding over to the bed, cradling the book to her chest, and flinging herself onto the mattress, which, against all dramatic appropriateness, squelched.

Yet again, Daisy did not move. She merely stared at the ceiling.

“You OK?” said Roseluck. The bed-flinging and the staring were old acquaintances; Roseluck had always shut the door behind her before she ever had a chance to ask what they did for a living. Somehow, it didn’t look right seeing a grown-up Daisy reunite with them.

Daisy hummed in a monotone.

“Well, OK. If you’re sure.”

Another unwavering hum.

“By the way,” said Roseluck on her way out, “here’s some good news I forgot to mention; I heard on the grapevine they’re hosting next year’s Summer Sun Celebration right here! In Ponyville! Think of all the flowers we could sell! That’ll see us shooting to the top, won’t it?”

Daisy hummed without enthusiasm. “Just so long as it’s less rowdy than this year’s. Thank goodness hardly anything happens around here…”

Before she guided the door shut, Roseluck’s last image was of Daisy, lying on the bed: an unsmiling child again.




> …Detecting Frustration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

From that first day through several rowdy years and unsold flowers to the present, Roseluck's idle mind shot forwards and she woke out of her daydreams with a snort.

“Hm? Whazzat? Sorry? What?”

Strong hooves which had been shaking her now drew away. “Just saying we’re finished, love.” Quickfix backed off; her unicorn horn shimmered, as did the hovering spanner beside her head. “Doc wants you off the tenterhooks.”

“Wow.” Roseluck yawned, not even bothering to hide her gape or, she presumed, the dangly bit at the back no one knew the name of. “You work fast.”

“Trust me on this, Rosie; we are never going to set the temse alight again!”

“Eh?”

“Oh, come on, come on. Time for you to inspect the work.” Quickfix winked and scuttled back through the door with a slam. Raised voices asked questions at each other.

Sitting on her comfy armchair, the cup of coffee long since bereft of its steam, Roseluck wondered what on earth Doc had been thinking when he’d roped that nutcase in.

For everyone knew Quickfix; her real name was Silver Spanner, but “Quickfix” had been her own choice, and she’d used it so often that it stuck. Lots of things stuck to Quickfix.

Everyone, sooner or later, had seen her ferreting around in trash cans, and for this reason no one ever shook her hoof. Equestria didn’t know what a “dumpster” was, but they certainly had their “dumpster divers”. Or “garbage grubbers”, to be technically accurate.

Roseluck didn’t move for a while; she was trying to figure out where she’d been shaken awake. In the end, she simply resolved to have a very thorough scrubbing in the bath.

For Quickfix had a dream.

According to her, all kinds of useful things got lost in the trash. Her job was to retrieve them as close to their pristine forms as possible, before Equestria’s trash collectors simply loaded the stuff up and shoved it into a magically charged recycling plant. She’d said that was “cheating”.

And she had a bigger dream, of a sort: to get rich off rubbish. Free as it was in the trash cans, the stuff she retrieved suddenly had a price tag attached, in honour of the effort she went to. An effort, she pointed out, that others wouldn’t. Since an awful lot got thrown out, and since she’d read the idea in a book once, she was determined to build her fortune out of reused parts.

“Where there’s muck,” she’d told the crowd once, “there’s brass.”

Idly, Roseluck supposed she might have been successful if, say, she lived in a city. Out in the country, the only workers likely to benefit from most of the scraps were farmers, who alone were as happy to wade through waste as she was.

Except for Doc…

Roseluck chilled herself to the bone.

Something like that would appeal to a dreamer like him, wouldn’t it? Yes, she imagined their meeting now; Doc would have caught the unicorn elbows-deep in his bags of waste, and one sharp question would lead to a hundred questions like bouncing rubber balls, and wouldn’t a stallion who tinkered with the universe just love to meet someone who could supply the choicest scraps and gears and cogs? Besides, Quickfix had taken a course in engineering once, though Roseluck had no idea where. It wasn’t as if fixing toasters featured much on Cheerilee’s curriculum.

Ah… now it made sense.

Roseluck stared gloomily at her untouched coffee.

Why was she still here, then? It wasn’t as if she’d contributed anything beyond Doc’s abilities. Reading a book, for pity’s sake. And she’d been no help at the hospital, save possibly for the fact that Redheart might have thrown him out if he’d gone alone.

Drifting along through an unseen wake, Roseluck rose off the armchair and shuffled towards the door.

Were they even doing the right thing for Daisy?

She stopped. The image of the mare lying unsmiling on the bed gave her pause. And all that stuff about the Dream Lotus sent her mind spinning.

She wondered if Daisy remembered that day at all. Probably not. More likely, she’d dismissed it as nothing important. Serious work had beckoned them onwards.

But Roseluck squirmed under the memory, even today. She had the horrible feeling Daisy had tried to tell her something profoundly important, if only she – Roseluck – hadn’t been too dumb to understand.

Maybe, just maybe, the best thing to do wasn’t to act like Daisy was at death’s door. After all, correlation was not causation; Mister Greenhooves had been really, really old and he really, really didn’t count as a gardener anyway.

Perhaps they’d made things worse. Perhaps she, and Lily, with the best intentions in the world, had pushed her too hard, and then pulled when she’d tried pushing herself away from it all.

“Poor Daisy,” she whispered.

Well, yes, Doc and she had to check just in case, but…

What had they done to leave Daisy asleep for days on end?

No, that was the wrong question. Perhaps if they set aside the accounting and the bookkeeping and the stall-holding and that stuff with the tax returns forms, then possibly somewhere in the remains lay enough wriggle room to ask what they hadn’t done to her.

It made no difference that Daisy always pulled papers towards her, be they the latest invoices for begonia deliveries or the collective restaurant bill. The fact was: they’d let her. Every time.

And now Lily was running around inside the girl’s head.

“My gosh…” Roseluck breathed.

Pain bit into her head. Ow! she thought. This is stupid! Why does everything have to be so complicated!? Why can’t it be something simple, like a depression-eating monster!?

With that, she threw herself back onto the chair, bounced, settled, and groaned.

The door opened. Doc said, “Are you coming, Roseluck?”

“Give me a sec! Give me a sec!”

He shrugged and shut the door again.

Her mind cast about, a child looking for a lost teddy. Sitting there doing nothing was an exercise in torture; worse, because the only other choice was to stand there doing nothing. She needed something. Something!

What was it Hazardous Fallacy said? Maybe he’d know what to do. The second law: what was it? Stupid memory! Come on! Something about things being possible?

“Anything is possible”. Oh, Daisy. Is that what you were trying to say? And I didn’t listen. Why didn’t I listen?

“Anything is possible”.

She gave it some more thought.

She shuddered.

Amazing: ponies actually said those words as though they were encouraging. They didn’t grasp what “anything” meant. Not truly.

Oh, Daisy… what would make you that desperate…?

Willing herself not to be terrified, Roseluck got out of her chair and strode over to the door. Clanks and whirrs told her Doc was still at the fine-tuning stage.





Patiently, Roseluck waited for him to make the last few adjustments to the… to the device.

“Darn and blast!” He picked up the wrench between his teeth and whacked, whacked, whacked the thing until it pinged. With a clatter, he dropped it again. “There. That’s better. Just the right amount of scuff.”

“What?” said Roseluck.

“Scuff marks. No super-advanced homemade device is complete without a little wear and tear on it. Makes it look authentically shoddy.”

“That’s what you’ve been spending time on?”

“The device works. Believe me. But if it looks fresh out of the box, then my credentials –”

“Our credentials,” said Quickfix, levitating the device.

“My credentials and our credentials,” said Doc without skipping a second, “would be impugned somewhat.”

“So to look authentic,” said Roseluck, trying to keep up, “you have to fake it?”

Quickfix tapped the side of her own muzzle. “Engineering is a fine art, love. You’re not supposed to understand it. Just enjoy the mystery of it.”

“I’m sure that’s wrong.”

“That’s why I’m the one holding the spanner, love.”

Roseluck regarded her in the manner of a queen being cheeked by a street urchin. “I think I’d like to know what you two have been up to.”

“Up to our eyeballs in fun, love,” said Quickfix, who winked at her.

That wink was downright offensive. A street urchin wouldn’t dare give it to a shiny penny, much less a monarch. Roseluck’s jaw cracked with the crushing pressure.

“Yes, indeed!” said Doc, plucking the device out of the air between his hooves. “Many’s the time young Quickfix here has helped me out with gadgets and gizmos aplenty.”

Roseluck’s teeth almost shattered.

“Of course, modesty forbids me from mentioning that I did a lot of the work, but it’s always bountifully helpful to have such a keen assistant to rub elbows with.”

Now her skull began to quake and rumble under the stress.

“And what a one we’ve made between us! Honestly, I could do this all day, but it was tricky enough to tune just the three, and I gather we’ve wasted enough time. Roseluck, it’s extraordinary! I do believe we’ve cracked it!”

For a moment, the crushing rage subsided; she could almost hear the skull joints pinging with release.

“You have?” she said.

“Yes! And it’s all credit to young Quickfix here! While she’s no scientist, she certainly has the heart of one. I’m absolutely sure I couldn’t have completed the device without her essential input.”

So much scream rushed up Roseluck’s throat that she pressed a hoof urgently into her mouth and was sure she’d explode under the pressure. For Daisy, remember! For Lily! You’re doing this for them!

“That’s… nice…” Roseluck swallowed it back down. She might as well have swallowed a bowling ball. “OK, so… so what is it?”

He held up a mishmash of glass tubing and twined helixes, and yes, there were the diodes sticking out of it. Always the diodes: he seemed to think they added just the right amount of futuristic to a design, even when they took up battery power. A hoof-sized square dominated the centre, and when the switch at the back clicked on, a single line ran through the middle. He’d probably ripped it off an oscilloscope.

“This,” he said with his booming show-off voice, “is how we clinch it.”

“It’s a dream creature detector?” Roseluck tilted her head. The thing was so ungainly that she half-expected the lot to collapse piece by piece.

“You might call it a contaminant detector, after the great Golden Bough. This little display here reads off the brainwave patterns of the subject, whatever stage of sleep they’re in. Next, observe these helix-shaped loops coming out the side? All you need is a piece of the subject – skin, saliva, anything with DNA – and via the principle of like-affecting-like –”

“Golden Bough’s Principle of Homeopathic Magic,” added Quickfix happily.

Under her shroud of interest, Roseluck sagged. She’d never remembered whole jargon-based terms that well…

“Yes…” Doc gave his assistant a suspicious look, “if you insist. Anyway, via the principle – whatever you call it – the device compares said essential identification with the brainwave patterns. Thirdly, it scans the cutie mark of the subject…” He tapped the glass tubing, which flared with a laser briefly “…to triangulate the exact signature of any and all entities present in the subject’s mind, including during REM sleep.”

“OK,” said Roseluck, hoping this was leading to a simplification. “So… when it does that…?”

Doc blinked at her. “I thought I’d just explained that?”

“I’m sure you did,” she said hotly. “But what’s the result?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Doc popped with surprise like a bubble blown suddenly into a tree.

Roseluck glanced at Quickfix, who was grinning. In her current state of mind, she automatically assumed that grin was aimed at her. Part of her knew it wasn’t, but that part was not currently driving.

“Of course it is,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I just wanted to make sure it actually detected anything.”

Doc shrugged. “Well, we can test it, I suppose. Who’d like to be test subject?”

“Wait a minute! Don’t we have to be asleep to test it?”

“Well, dreaming, yes.”

“That could take too long! We’ve been away for too long already!”

“That’s all right, Rosie.” Quickfix stepped forwards smartly, levitating the device out of Doc’s grip. “Daydreaming’s just as good. Here, let me give it a charge, and work my magic on it.”

“No magic!” Doc made a grab for it, but only got a laugh out of her as she raised it out of reach.

“Whyever not? It’s already got magic in it.”

“Excuse me,” Doc said, rearing up for the device, “but the principle is resolutely, unfailingly mechanical. This device is perfectly capable of operating without magic.”

“Still got magic in it anyway.”

“Give me that back!” Finally, he lunged and plucked it out of the air. “I’ll thank you not to dwell on technicalities.”

Despite herself, Roseluck giggled. “So it really has got magic in it?”

Grimacing wretchedly, Doc avoided her eye and picked up another of those strange soup-strainer helmets with diodes and wires sticking out of it. “Yes, if you must know, but only because we needed a temporary shortcut this one time.”

“Ah. Thought so. Don’t you need big, heavy devices to measure DNA, or something? I’m sure you mentioned it once.”

“Rather regretfully, I don’t recall.”

He placed the helmet on her head and plugged a wire somewhere behind the device. Instantly, the display beeped. The glowing line became a mountain range of undulations.

“Now,” he murmured under his breath, pausing only to hold the device in his mouth for a moment before hitting the side. “I just scan your cutie mark… like so… excuse me, would you open wide? I need a spit sample.”

Roseluck tried to ignore Quickfix’s chortles as she gaped and let him stick part of the device inside. Horrible cold poked the fleshy back of her cheek before he withdrew it.

“Commence daydreaming,” he said.

“What? Just like that?”

She couldn’t tell if his smile was encouraging or patronizing. “Take your time. If it helps, close your eyes.”

Unable to help herself in the throes of scientific testing, she did so. Anything to get this out of the way.

Her cheeks burned with self-consciousness. Roseluck tried not to imagine how she must look, wearing that overdesigned helmet, standing there with her eyes shut. If it weren’t for the chance, that one chance, to see Daisy and Lily rise off the bed or off the floor, blinking, waking up to see her again… Well, if it weren’t for that, she would never have stuck on this helmet and stood with her eyes closed like a dummy.

Even her enthusiasm for science had limits.

Ah, she thought, and that’s probably why he has his precious secret sessions with a mare who thinks rummaging through garbage bags is a good hobby.

She imagined herself coming over one day, toolbox balanced on her back, winking at Doc amid the machine parts and bending their heads together, working on… on… something… Her imagination was a bit vague on the detail –

Beep!

“All clear!” When she opened her eyes, Doc lowered the device and pulled the helmet off. “The display’s flashing green, which means we’ve confirmed that your dreams contain just you.”

“Oh,” said Roseluck. “Is that good?”

Doc gave her a sidelong look. “Yes, I should think so.”

“What good’s that, though?”

“Aha!” said Doc, bravado al fresco. “That’s where we play our ace! Quickfix, my dear Quickfix!”

“Gotcha, wotcha!”

From behind another pile of junk, the unicorn levitated two more devices. They looked exactly the same as the first one.

“Ding dong,” said Doc.

“Eh?” said Roseluck.

“Ah,” said Doc, tapping his muzzle conspiratorially. “You may have noticed something a bit off about my description of the detector. We’ve managed to solve it, but I certainly don’t want to spoil the surprise. Can you figure it out?”

Roseluck sighed. She was already reaching the end of her tether, and the coffee was doing strange things to her brain. Already, she felt herself lightening on her feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said wearily.

“Later, later. We’ve already wasted time, have we not? Here’s a hint to keep your grey matter going: one of the devices merely connects to the other two.”

Now the coffee was demanding to drive. Roseluck swayed slightly, trembling with the new effort of keeping herself at bay.

“Can we go now?” she said.

“Going, going, and soon to be gone!” Doc rounded on Quickfix and bowed. “An absolute pleasure as always. If you ever find yourself on Query Street, don’t hesitate to come and find me instead.”

“Query Street?” said Roseluck, who’d never heard of such a place in Ponyville.

“You’d better pay on the nail, that’s all I’m saying.” Quickfix dropped the devices with a clatter and sauntered over to the window. “Well, toodles! Not fit to hold a candle to you, but at least I didn’t make a pig’s ear out of it.”

“Perish the thought!” Doc waved at her. “There are never too many irons in the fire when you’re around, Quickie! Pip-pip!”

“Ooh, nice. No flies on you, eh Doc? Pip-pip!”

Finally, thought Roseluck, before the unicorn vaulted herself out the window. All the idioms were riding roughshod over her brain, which in any case was cracking under the riot of coffee trying to break in.

Contentment breathed out of Doc’s mouth. “No flies on me. What a wonderful wit dear Quickie has. Oh, isn’t she a one?”

“One what?” Roseluck said, whereas most of her chased after the coffee and prised the controls out of its mouth.

“One mare. One treasure. In fact, one mare’s garbage is another mare’s treasure. Very fond of the workhorse idioms, your basic Quickfix.”

“Sure,” muttered Roseluck. “If you don’t mind the smell.”

“The smell of progress, dear Roseluck. Let it not offend you.”

“How long have you known each other?”

“Oh, ages. Before I met you, in fact.”

“Is that so?” Roseluck kept the warning out of her voice, but only just.

Meanwhile, an utterly oblivious Doc – at least, she hoped he was oblivious, and not doing this deliberately – went over and scooped up the dropped devices. All three disappeared inside a bulging pair of saddlebags.

“By the way, are you quite all right, Roseluck? You seem unusually tense, even for a mare of your position.”

The question hit her. Even the coffee stopped struggling. “What?”

“Natural enough under the circumstances, believe me,” he said, coming over to place a hoof on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to feel overwhelmed, my dear.”

“You can stop calling me ‘my dear’, for a start.”

“Done and done.” He gave her a friendly pat.

“And I’m not a pet, thank you.”

“Beg pardon?”

She glared meaningfully at the offending hoof, which quickly ducked out of sight.

“Apologies,” said Doc, nodding towards her. “I completely understand.”

Alarm flashed through her mind, banishing the coffee at once. “You do? Look, it’s not like I don’t like her – OK, I don’t actually know her well enough to decide that – and I’m sure if we met when she wasn’t cosying up to you here – well, but for where we plant our seeds, I mean –”

“Ah, correction: you’ve lost me there, I’m afraid.” He cocked his head. “What is it, Roseluck? Anything I can do?”

She looked into his eyes, and almost convinced herself she had his full, undivided attention. But she doubted it, in the end. Doc gave the impression of performing calculus while daydreaming, even as his eyes blunted themselves to look at her with concern. The only way she’d get his undivided attention would be if she were made of numbers.

All of a sudden, she felt very, very stupid.

“No,” she said, hoping her cheeks weren’t blushing. “Anyway, we’re wasting time. Let’s go do this test thingy, whatever it is. I just hope I’m wrong about this.”

There was no hope for it; she blushed and burned her face.

Doc saluted. “Allons-y, ma rose de bonne chance! Allons-y!”




> The Triple-Minded Trick
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doc and Roseluck panted as they hurried through the florist’s front entrance, across the wilting flowers, up the stairs, and at the door she dreaded to open. Doc rather thoughtlessly barged in, his saddlebags rattling as he went.

Roseluck hesitated outside. She heard the slight puffs of breath.

If only they’d been awake. If only they’d proven all this was unnecessary. Yet already she could hear the bags hit the ground and the devices clank together under Doc’s skilled hooves.

Sucking in the sweet, sweet air for comfort, she stepped through. She forced herself to look. At the bed. At the floor.

The room was exactly as they’d left it. Books untouched. Window running with water from the fresh rainfall.

Daisy, strewn as though dropped from a great height. Beside her, the feeder lay empty, though drops of yellow stained the nasogastric tube like beads on a dying necklace.

Lily, limbs now on the floorboards where they’d slid off her torso.

On each head, the crude helmets tried but failed to give them jaunty, childlike looks, as though they were merely playing a virtual reality game instead of being tortured with devices. Underneath each helmet lay the slight gapes and smooth eyes of two ponies deep in a cold peace. Almost like they were…

No! Her ears had to remind herself that the two were still breathing.

Numbly, she observed the tiniest rise and fall on Daisy’s chest. Lily shifted up and down along with each of her own breaths.

Harsh gusts came out of her own mouth and sliced through her own nostrils. Any moment now, she expected the rise and fall to stop.

Then Doc hove into view and plugged a wire into each helmet.

“All right,” he said grimly. “Time to clinch the evidence.”

Roseluck didn’t trust herself to speak. By contrast, Doc prattled on while he flicked switches on each device before laying it upon the floor.

“All right. All right, all right, all right. Scanning Daisy’s cutie mark… Scanning Lily’s cutie mark…”

The laser flared along their flanks as Roseluck watched, tightening her lips.

“DNA sample… Apologies…”

Without a word, Roseluck stepped forwards. He wasn’t doing this bit. Gently, she guided the device out of his hooves and between her own. Not looking at Daisy, she gently prodded the thing into the tiny gape. When it squelched, she winced.

She did the same for Lily, then placed each device on the ground and stepped back as though avoiding a disease lunging at her.

“Very good.” Doc flicked more switches and she inspected the ceiling. “Lastly, obtaining brainwave patterns…”

Plastic, metal, and glass scraped across the wooden floor, away from the two ponies lying down. Despite herself, Roseluck looked down at the displays.

“And…” said Doc beside her.

NUR! NUR!

“They’ve turned red,” he muttered under his breath. “I thought they might. OK, now for item number three, please.”

Curiosity rode on fear and overtook Roseluck’s desire to not exist in that place at that time. Her lips wetly parted.

“Why,” she croaked, “are there three?”

“Haven’t you worked it out yet?” Doc whispered. The third device had no glass tubing or helixes: just a display and two wires. It was, however, noticeably thicker than the other two.

She shook her head.

His hoof pointed at Daisy. “Lily is contaminating Daisy’s dream, so of course once the device identifies the latter, the former is treated as a contaminant by that device. And now observe…” He pointed at Lily “…that device identifies Lily and doesn’t care whose dream it is, so in her case Daisy is treated as a contaminant by that device.”

“Why not just put them both on one, then?” she whispered back.

“Too complicated for one device to handle on its own and analyse the identification cues simultaneously. But now here’s the clever bit; free from that obligation, the third device merely has to focus on cross-referencing and cancelling the two devices out. Specialization and delegation are the ultimate in keeping it simple.”

“What?”

“Higher levels of organization don’t need to know how the lower levels got their results. It’s enough that they know them. Then the higher levels are free to look for larger-scale patterns in the data.”

“Again: what?”

Doc clicked his tongue impatiently. “It means this: the third device takes the whole dream and subtracts Lily and Daisy from them. If the third device doesn’t beep, then there’s nothing else in there with them. If it does beep, however…”

They stared at the glowing line, the last one, the only one not flashing red amid the brainwave patterns.

Then…

NUR!

Redness. Flashing.

Very, very quietly, Doc muttered, “Oh dear.”

Unlike the first two devices, which boasted two undulating waves, the third was a flat line. Yet Roseluck swore it glowed brighter and brighter even as she watched.

She glanced up at Lily’s brainwaves. Strong and regular, just as Doc had shown when she’d tested the thing. Then she glanced across at Daisy’s. The shock took off the underside of her world, opening her to an endless space, once fallen, never to be seen again.

Whereas Lily’s brainwaves were a mountain range, Daisy’s were a lumpy plain. Against the red flashes, her line was getting dimmer, more like a star stretched thin than a slice of the sun.

Her voice shuddered. “What does that mean, Doc?”

“Interesting… as Daisy’s weakens, this one becomes brighter.”

“This can’t be just a coincidence…” Roseluck’s mouth was dry. Her neck tingled with the thoughts creeping from her spine. The skin along her limbs numbed under the truth seeping through her blood.

“Possibly,” said Doc. “This suggests a transfer of presence, or perhaps of existence itself. How metaphysical can one get when dealing with dreams?”

“In Equestrian?” said Roseluck, and every time her heart beat, her body pulsed along, bracing itself for a fleeing run. She shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Erm… it could be a transfer of energy?” He coughed into his hoof, and she caught him adjusting his collar and tie out of the corner of her eye. “To put it another way: the one is eating the other.”

“Eating her?”

Doc spoke fast. “Or the third intruder is simply more powerful than she is relatively, not absolutely. Daisy is sick, after all. This so-called transfer could be just a coincidence. Let’s not jump to conclusions –”

“But something is in there!” On the display, the blazing flat line swelled as though flaring, but she blinked, and this turned out to be merely a trick of her overheated mind. “Something is in there, and it’s not even a mind! Look at that line! No normal pony has a brainwave reading like that!”

“Pony, maybe. Normal, no. Roseluck, please don’t get carried away –”

“Worse, it’s getting stronger! And Daisy’s getting weaker!” She glared round at him. “How can you stand there and say that’s interesting!?”

“Well…” Doc wriggled on the hook of her penetrating stare.

Then she turned away from him and ran a hoof through her mane. “No, no, no. Look, this has to be a mistake. Your machine’s off, or something.”

“Preposterous!” Actual fire cut through his voice. “Quickfix and I are among the best in the business. We’ve been cobbling together exotic doohickeys since our halcyon days at school.”

“Then you’re due a dud. This just cannot be true.” Perhaps if she said it often enough…

“That’s wishful thinking and you know it. Would you dare question my methods if we’d found the opposite? I’m telling you, I double-checked all three devices before we left, and this is the clinching proof you wanted.”

Roseluck ignored him, but rushed over to the bed and peered under it, moaning. She stepped around Lily and lifted up a floorboard in the corner, the strain reminding her that her limbs were still alive, still responding, not giving up hope yet.

“What on earth are you doing?” Doc hurried over to her, thumping on the floorboards in his haste.

“Daisy must have hidden something. She did this to herself. I’m sure of it.”

“A moment ago, you were equally sure something else did this to her. Roseluck, you’re going through denial. Trust me when I say it won’t help. It won’t help you and it won’t help Daisy and Lily.”

Nevertheless, she stepped around him and opened drawers in the desk. She scraped the lot back and checked behind it. She pulled up the opposite floorboard. She ran a hoof along the wardrobe and under the windows, just in case there were any secret hollow areas she wasn’t sure of.

“Looking for something?” said Doc behind her.

“I know it’s childish,” she said, refusing to make eye contact or to stop running her hoof along the wood at all. “But it fits. It really does fit.”

“What does?”

“The Dream Lotus! Daisy went on about one years ago. She said it had the power to take you to the dream world forever, only no one’s ever caught one. What if she’d tried? What if she’d succeeded? She only needed one opportunity to –”

“Roseluck!” snapped Doc so loudly that she jumped and banged her head on the wardrobe’s underside. “That’s a child’s story!”

Massaging her scalp, she drew back. “Doc, it makes sense! Poor Daisy wanted to escape into herself, she told me, and she had a motive to go looking for –”

“For something she must’ve known was a fantasy,” said Doc in a voice like a tightening straitjacket. “For something that’s impossible to find even if it was real, using a gap in her life that’s never existed to conduct her search, and somehow keeping secret a plant that’s so hard to manage, anyone watching the local reservoir would notice the level going down and the trails left behind by daily buckets. Roseluck, what you’re suggesting is nonsense.”

“But what if it’s here?” she said desperately.

“It isn’t. It’s impossible.”

“Hazardous Fallacy said –”

Suddenly, he gripped her by the shoulders as though about to shake her, shocking her into silence. “Roseluck! I know what Hazardous Prophecy said! And that saying boils down to ‘anything is possible, especially if an expert says it isn’t’! No one seriously believes that. It’s a cute saying worth talking about at a party, but you could use it to justify any old rubbish. Be serious, Roseluck! Daisy and Lily do not need any more time wasted! Do you understand!?”

In the silence, they heard the mocking of the devices. NUR! NUR! NUR!

Roseluck’s insides collapsed. At heart, she wasn’t a scientist. She knew this. But if that meant looking at those displays, as though looking a three-eyed monster right in the face…

“Then maybe it’s something else,” she said weakly, wishing he’d let her go. “Maybe it’s… Maybe it’s Princess Luna.”

Doc stared at her.

“I’m not being hysterical,” she blurted out.

“I know you’re not.”

“I’m braver than the other two combined.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still holding me?”

He let go at once. “Anyone would panic under the news. Don’t get too deeply involved. Forget for the moment that these are our friends on the line, and think. I know it sounds cold, but it’s what will help them.”

Astonished, her gaze met his. “You said ‘our’. ‘Our friends’.”

“Yes. Now… Focus, Roseluck. These are the facts. What do you make of them?”

A few heaves of the lungs later, she ventured forth. “It doesn’t have to be the Tantabus. Anyway, you said it can’t be. How would it get into Dais – How would it get into a pony mind other than Luna’s? Could a piece have survived?”

NUR! NUR! NUR!

“We’re thinking about this wrong,” said Doc, and he strode over to the devices while the rain strummed the window. “Anything could be inside Daisy’s head. Technically, we can’t rule out the prospect that the equipment is flawed. What we mustn’t do is fall for confirmation bias and merely look for evidence that confirms what we want to believe. That is like following a leader with your eyes shut.”

In spite of her own resolution, Roseluck growled. Relentless, the blood rushed on through her body, stirring up her rage no matter how much she willed it to stay calm. Why bother, anyway? Seconds bled away every time they spoke.

“Forget it!” She went for the door. “I haven’t searched downstairs for that Lotus.”

“Wait, Roseluck!” Doc blocked her side-on, and blocked her again each time she made to step around him. “Your emotions are trying to do your thinking for you. Don’t trust them. They’re not trained and they’re not experienced enough.”

“Then help me work this out! I’m sick of listening to cautions all the time! Tell me something real!”

They both stopped, and the scent of sweat blunted her noses of all feeling.

NUR! NUR! NUR!

“You think this could be the Tantabus still,” said Doc, “don’t you?”

“Or a Baku,” Roseluck admitted.

“Well, here’s the problem –”

“Oh, not again.”

“No, listen to me. This is important. When Princess Luna fought that Tantabus, all the dreams of everyone in Ponyville joined together. Yet for all that, you’re supposing only two of them got a piece of a creature that left no trace behind. Have we heard of any other cases other than Mister Greenhooves? Other than Daisy? Where’s our sample size?”

“Doc, please…” She was horribly aware of the weight of her two friends pressing on her consciousness once more. “She used a spell…”

“Ah, I thought we might get to that. Whatever Golden Bough says, whatever principles you had in mind, Roseluck, magic is not always contagious. Teleportation spells aren’t contagious. You can’t catch transfiguration spells from a bird turned into a piece of fruit. Even mind control spells or emotion-eating magic – psychological stuff, you’ll notice – aren’t contagious. What you want is a spell designed to get in via the senses, from a source which spreads it among targets. Cockatrice stares, Want-It-Need-It Spells…”

“You know an awful lot about magic,” said Roseluck suspiciously, “for someone who doesn’t like it very much.”

“I don’t like it,” he said testily. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know about it. But if you think Daisy or Mister Greenhooves caught some magical spell or creature or what-have-you, then tell me this: what’s the common source?”

NUR! NUR! NUR! Slight breaths. The patter of rain on the window.

She sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Hence we need a larger sample size.”

“What sample size?”

“Anyone else who might show similar symptoms. Any reported cases of depression, for instance, which might make a pony vulnerable to the spell. No, don’t look at me that way. A responsible scientist always checks for any confounding factors –”

Growling, Roseluck reached up and tugged at her mane. “You’re a confounding factor! Please, Doc! We’ve wasted enough time on this as it is! Stop trying to teach me science all the time and help me!”

Coolly, shockingly, infuriatingly, he met her with a steady gaze. “I am helping. Haven’t you heard of Gravy Gloom’s words of wisdom?”

Helpless, Roseluck fidgeted where she stood, caught between the rock of her own rages and the hard place of truth. Doc was right. Doc had to be right. His words spread into her ear like a sleep-inducing bouquet through the nose. Yet her heart fought against it on every beat.

“No,” she said, wondering if he’d mentioned them before.

“I’m referring to the induction problem, or as he called it, the ‘You Never Really See It Coming’ Conundrum.” Doc’s smile twitched apologetically. “Not a great one for names, was our Gravy.”

“Which means?” said Roseluck with a sigh.

“Which means I must invoke the principle of falsification here, our only defence against a false reading. We’re not done with the ID of the intruder in the dream. Once you eliminate all other contenders, in this case the likely culprits lurking in Daisy's mind, then by said process of elimination, you can narrow it down to a Tantabus or a Baku or what-have-you. Sound fair enough?”

“For pity’s sake,” said Roseluck, “why can’t we just ask Twilight to sort it out?”

Doc bristled. “Twilight’s busy,” he snapped.

“Then who?”

Frowning, Doc went past her. She didn’t dare turn to look, in case she caught Daisy on the bed. At least her mind hadn’t touched either of them in the last few minutes, but now she had a chance to dwell on the way their breaths seemed to get quieter and quieter…

NUR! NUR! NU– Something clicked.

Doc raised his hoof away from the trio of devices. “We’d best gather our sample from the socialites. Wide catchment area. I believe Pinkie may provide here. And Roseluck… forgive me for saying so, but you need to be as brave as you say you are. I don’t blame you – given the way the shop’s managed recently, anyone would find this too much –”

Sheer outraged silence cut his voice off. He’d caught Roseluck’s eye.

If she could have lasered the back of his head as he passed, she would have done it through sheer concentration. The nerve of him!

Only when his hoofsteps hit the squeaky bottom step did she look back for a moment. Give her friends one last look.

“Please let me be wrong,” she whispered. Then she shut the door and hurried down after him. She kept several yards from Doc the whole time.




> The Truth Closes In
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shuffling among sundews the size of sycamores, Daisy wondered if she  should try another answer. Outwardly, she shrank away from her friend as  though worried about infecting her. Inwardly, she strained against the  bars of her own ribcage.

She even opened her mouth to speak…

No. The florist’s couldn’t be saved by a bunch of heartfelt speechifying.  In real life, things like that were solved with advertising or  reputation-building or expanding or stuff like that. Cold, hard  measures. Realistically, a florist’s had about as much chance of getting  supermarket levels of attention as… as Daisy had of saving Equestria.

That saving Equestria wasn’t her job was just icing on a foul-smelling  cake. And she’d probably panic and run away and muck it up even if it  was tailor-made for her, because in real life, realistically, however  much she pretended she was the sane one, she was no better than Lily and  Rose.

All the same… Lily came here to help.

Perhaps  she shouldn’t push them away. Perhaps Lily was right, and shutting  herself out of the world wasn’t going to help the shop or herself at  all. Perhaps…

Roseluck and Lily Valley had staked their futures on  the florist’s too; neither wanted to see it fail, or could afford to do  so. That meant they might have found ways of solving it, simply because  they needed to rise to the occasion too. Daisy didn’t have to do everything on her own. She wasn’t teacher keeping an eye on kindergarten students.

The  sundews rose like alien plants all around her; big paddle-shaped  growths covered in stalks tipped with dewdrops. “Alien” seemed about  right; those dewdrops looked like shiny alien eyes staring with a  bizarre intelligence at the world all around.

But then she relaxed.

What was the point, after all? It was only a dream. Nothing bad had happened. Not really. Anyway, if something bad did happen, then so what? For once, couldn’t she enjoy not being twitchy and feeling her heart was on the verge of exploding?

So she stopped looking.

By  contrast, Lily beside her was as twitchy as a sparrow in hawk country.  Her gaze jumped from dewdrop to dewdrop completely at random. Why  couldn’t she relax for once?

“You ever have dreams like this, Lily?” Daisy said, hoping to gently guide her down off her high-jumping fears.

“About plants? Yeah, sure.” Twitchy gaze jumped about all over again.

Daisy sighed. “I meant nice, quiet ones you enjoy.”

Irritatingly, Lily didn’t respond.

“Are you listening?”

“Still here. Uh… no, I can’t think of any dreams like that.”

“So what do you dream about?” After another round of non-response, Daisy added, “You must dream of something.”

“Is this really the time to be talking about that kind of thing?”

“Oh, stop looking all over. Just enjoy a few moments’ peace.”

“Oho! It’s peaceful now, sure, but give it a few moments, and then we’ll see how much peace is left alive.”

Were she not still walking, Daisy would have hit herself over the forehead. “Lily! This is a dream! We’ve had countless moments for something bad to happen, and even if it did happen Lily stop looking around and look me in the eye – even if it did happen, we’re not really here. We’ll… just wake up, or something.”

“Yeah?” snapped Lily. “Is that why those green toothy things tried to kill me earlier? I don't remember you being so complacent then!”

“Well you know. It looked so real. At the time. I must have just panicked.”

“Aha!”

“But I'm not panicking now! Panicking isn't going to help either of us.”

“Pfft. It's not panicking. It's cautiousness. If it wasn't for us and our cautiousness, we'd all have been goners long ago. That's what ponies do! They pay attention to danger! And if this is a dream anymore, then tell me this: When did you plan on waking up? Waiting to give another few lectures on what a paranoid idiot I am first?”

“Oh, don’t start that,” said Daisy, turning her gaze away. “You know what I mean.”

“I want to go home,  Daisy. Home. Where the other ponies are around us, where I can hear  pony voices and touch pony hooves and see pony faces nearby! You know,  where we’re safe. In a herd. Because that’s what we do.”

Daisy reminded herself over and over: Good friends did not get angry, good friends did not get angry. “We’re not raw animals, you know. We can have time to ourselves.”

“Oh  yeah?” Lily’s voice drilled into Daisy’s shell. “And you know what I  want those other ponies to think? I want them to think, ‘Those flower  ponies, they’re all right, a bit twitchy but good souls really’. That  won’t happen if we’re shut in a box all the time! Like we're scared of other ponies too!”

Daisy still  refused to meet her eye; she could feel the words battering away at her  mind, any moment about to hit something soft and sensitive. “Well, maybe  if you didn’t go on about the end of the world –”

“And lie!?  I don’t think so. The end of the world is kinda important. If it  happens today, next year, or dozens of eons into the future, I wanna  know! If anything, you and everyone else should be more careful!”

“Yeah, but those books you’re reading are hardly top-class material.”

“I just wanna be sure. That doesn’t make me mad. It doesn’t!”

Once  more, Daisy groaned. No wonder other ponies backed away from Lily half  the time. She had the unerring ability to suggest frothing at the mouth  even while keeping her real mouth meticulously clean.

Then again…

Surely someone so upset over doom and gloom could understand?

“Maybe you’re right,” Daisy said.

Suspicious  silence flowed from Lily’s side of the conversation. The back of  Daisy’s head – even through the curls – was washed by the soundlessness.

Of its own accord, her walking body inched her further away from Lily. Who was Daisy? Who was she,  really, with her excessive curls and plain name? To avoid her own angry  question, she slumped, head lowering, tail dragging, shoulders and hips  trying to meet as she scrunched up. Her lips trembled. Those words  could not be said.

On the other hoof…

What had she got to lose?

“You’re right,” Daisy said.

Lily grunted in surprise.

“Why  fight it, in the end?” Daisy continued, her voice dead of hope. “I – We all  spent years holding it off, but it beat us. To tell you the truth, it’s  kind of a relief.”

Surprisingly soft, Lily’s voice said, “Hold on a second. You can’t give up just yet.”

“I’m  not giving up. I’m being sensible. You and Rose should get out while  you still can. Since it’s my business, I ought to take responsibility  for it.”

“It’s our business. Daisy, you don’t have to – I only meant that –”

“Look, I had my chance, I showed the world what I could do, and I blew it. That says it all really. Doesn't it? I'm not going anywhere. You can get out, but I'm going down with the ship. It's my responsibility. I'm the one who failed you. No one else.”

To her shock, Lily’s hoof held her by the shoulder. They both stopped, the sloshing died away, and still Daisy didn’t dare look.

“The truth is,” Daisy said, trying not to crack as she stared at her own reflection, “you've never needed me. I've always needed you. I kept taking all that paperwork and business stuff from you, but Roseluck's the pony for numbers and you've always enjoyed running the shop more than I ever have. I'm the third wheel. I'm nothing without you two. And now you're suffering for my mistakes, because I couldn't admit that before. Well, I'm admitting it now. I'm done. It's over. It shouldn't have lasted this long. To tell you the truth, if it wasn't for you and Roseluck, I'd, I'd, I'd be nowhere right now. I wouldn't have lasted this long.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

Then Lily made a slow, subdued, but scarily stressful sound, like a gasp too terrified to be heard but too terrified to stay and hold its nerve in her chest.

Daisy opened her eyes. She did not look up, seeing the reflections instead.

She did focus, however.

The  sundews were gone. What she’d lazily assumed were more sundews were in  fact vast trumpets of green.

Her dazed stare followed them up to  yellowing peaks, where plant mouths gaped. Sarracenia flava, her botanist mind said. The trumpet pitcher plant.

And there were others. Part of her insisted they hadn't been there before now.

“Daisy,”  said Lily in a slow, thoughtful voice that twanged like the last string  of a harp. “Do you notice anything… odd about these plants?”

“They’re bigger than us?” said Daisy, staring up at those mouths. “Or we’re as small as mice?”

“Not that. You notice any kind of… theme about them?”

Equally slowly, equally thoughtfully, Daisy replied, “They’re Equestrian?”

“YYYYYYes, but, uh, more specific than that?”

Without any kind of signal, the two of them drew together. Daisy’s elbow bumped her friend’s.

“They’re… swamp plants…?”

“YYYYYYes, but keep going.” Lily swallowed. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Er… is that the thinking about how dreams can be symbolic, or the thinking we might be in a bit of trouble?”

“Right now? Both?”

Daisy had been here longer. She’d seen the yellow flower heads of the reedy Utricularia, the greasy leaves of Pinguiculia,  and umpteen different varieties of pitcher plant before Lily had  stumbled across her little island. To a non-specialist – or a specialist  with too much on her mind – the names would mean nothing, but now she  focused on them…

Daisy gulped. “They’re all –”

“Don’t say it. I’m very, very happy trying not to think what it means.”

“I thought you said it was important?”

“Yes, but when it’s actually happening…”

Both of them drew close enough to wrap forelimbs around each other without ever taking their eyes off the trumpets.

Daisy  gulped again, because her fear hadn’t gone down the first time.  “They’re all… carnivorous plants. All of them. They’re traps.”

“Oh!” moaned Lily. “Why did you have to say it!?”

Around them, the unbreachable wall of plants, without seeming to move in any way, drew that little bit closer to the huddling pair.

Only then did Daisy realize that they were both completely walled in.




> Dread of the Flower
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Go in. Find Pinkie Pie. Ask whether any cases of depression had passed her notice. Walk out again.

It was the perfect plan. After all, Pinkie was not hard to find; just go to the nearest available party. Roseluck knew exactly where she’d seen Goldengrape ushering the guests. Pinkie knew everyone, and if she didn’t then she’d certainly know someone else they could ask. Possibly several someone else’s: she’d have a list.

Lastly, anyone as obsessed as Pinkie – over smiling and singing at random – was bound to notice if somepony was going around with mopey, or possibly mopé, faces. Heck, she probably knew about Daisy’s depression before even the Flower Trio did, and they’d watched it happen.

So now Roseluck was sitting in another room, enduring another party, and listening to Doc give another lecture on what precisely he was going to do.

“Should really be doing my own original research and asking everyone in town. Systematically and statistically. But since we don’t have time –”

“I know, Doc.”

“Won’t be a picosecond.”

Dully, she replied, “A scientific impossibility.”

“True, true, though I suppose if we’re being pedantic it is actually impossible not to be not a picosecond, but to be a far more plausible scale of time instead –”

“Doc!” she snapped.

“Sorry. Got carried away. Won’t be a picossssssssIIII’ll be right back.”

Dully – just as dully as before – she watched him scurry over to Pinkie Pie, who was clearing a space in the middle of the dance floor with moves that should’ve counted as assault and unnecessary force, except that even the sternest of ponies picked themselves off the floor afterwards and laughed and copied her.

I wish I could have that much fun, she thought. The beat of the bass speakers pulsed through her like an externally applied heartbeat, yet every time she inched towards the dance floor, her mind screamed with outrage and she stayed where she was.

Sitting at this table. Watching Doc. Watching Goldengrape approach Doc: apparently, Goldengrape had managed to secure Pinkie as dance partner, and judging from his sweat-shining face was privately regretting it. All three of them vanished into an unheard conversation while the music beat Roseluck’s mind down over and over and over…

“NONE!” she barely heard Goldengrape shout. Pinkie shook her head and launched into a drowned speech. Only fragments of her voice’s tone penetrated the thick wall of beatbox.

Roseluck was emptied of everything, even envy. There was just an endless supply of party, and Pinkie, and Goldengrape, and smiles, and laughter, and it was just there. Just… Just nothing, as loud and psychedelically blinding as possible… her mind wandering…





Where did the other ponies get their stamina? she thought, and her voice echoed through her misty mind.

Well, obviously, Pinkie and Goldengrape are earth ponies, and earth ponies can keep on trucking long after everyone else had pulled into a roadside restaurant on the freeway of life.

She grimaced.

Although that said, not all us earth ponies can do it, either. Oh no. Not the likes of me. Not us flower ponies. Not the like of ME, huh?

There were all sorts, Doc had said once, going back millennia to when earth ponies had to diversify to please the other tribes. Rock ponies that worked on rock farms and could carve their initials into solid granite. Soil ponies with gifts for growing specific foodstuffs. Foodmaster ponies for cooking treats. Drink driver ponies for beverages. And, somewhere near the bottom, flower ponies, as pretty and as delicate as the flowers themselves, and surviving mostly because they’d given the nobles and the warriors something to look at.

There was the distant sound of laughter, and the scent, for a moment, of open meadows. Rustling under the breeze.

Nothing substantial, she thought bitterly, and the echoes ran around her mind. Just prettiness. Prettiness. Prettiness.

Oh, how she wanted to bite something.





Roseluck blinked the sleep out of her eyes and sighed. “Somewhere near the bottom”. Of course, that was in the bad old days. They were much more open-minded now…

She yawned. Close by, Doc was loudly explaining to the other two that he believed it was purely a medical matter, and if there were no abnormalities… blah blah blah… though since there were no cases or symptoms of disease which could plausibly lead to hypersomnia… blah blah blah…

Through eyes struggling to stay open – the music was bashing her consciousness to bits – she saw Goldengrape’s smile droop. No one had mentioned any names yet, but he wasn’t totally out of the loop. He must know what “hypersomnia” meant. In context.

Poor Goldengrape, thought Roseluck.

What do you really know? Everyone knew Daisy was sleeping more and more, but they just put it down to being saddy-waddy. Maybe she didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to stop smiling.

Way to go, Doc.

Way to go, Roseluck, letting Doc talk to the poor stallion in the first place.

Oh, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I was so certain, when I saw that reading… and something’s eating Daisy…

But Doc’s not worried. Anyway, it can’t be true, can it? Maybe the equipment’s faulty. Maybe we’re just running off into a panic again. Who knows how reliable that reading was?

Mustn’t panic. Must not panic! I’m the bravest of the bunch, remember?

Oh me. It’s just too much. Too, too much.

She closed her eyes, the music now numbing her utterly. Perhaps she was stressing out. That “nur nur nur” taunted her thoughts all over again. In her drowsiness, Roseluck wondered if this was what Daisy put up with every day.

They’d been so happy, once upon a time.

Unbidden, she dreamed.





Roseluck dreamed of the field again, pinks and yellows and greens and reds swaying under a gentle breeze, the laughter of distant foals caressing her ears, the rich smells massaging her poor, overworked nose as it breathed memories and became fresh with joys.

Around her, red roses poked through the petals. Part of her insisted there hadn’t been any roses that day, but the rest of her shrugged. The roses were fine. They were roses. The rose was the quintessential flower, as far as she was concerned.

There was Young Lily, who poked her head up. There was Young Roseluck, who leaped out and pounced on her friend. And there, smiling and laughing, was Young Daisy, who once more ran rings around them while they clambered around and over each other.

Dimly, Roseluck knew she should be awake at the party. Hard to feel compelled when she was hearing that sweet, gentle laugh, one more time.

She frowned.

Her ear twitched.

It was hard to say what had changed. Just that, without a change in the wind or a change in the scents of the meadow or even a change in the crash of playing foals over the flowers, everything had flipped in her mind to sudden dread.

Her heart beat faster, louder than any beatbox.

Then she heard it; something swished.

Roseluck’s insides turned to ice.

She looked behind her.

And saw a shadow.

Coming closer.

Billowing.

Floating.

Poised.

For the moment, it hung several metres away like a predatory cape. Midnight darkness swallowed and destroyed the dazzling summer’s day around itself until even the faintest of its stars twinkled deep within. It had no face, it had no head, it didn’t even have any limbs, and yet keen interest poisoned the world nearby and Roseluck knew, deep down where the ancient instincts huddled together and shivered, that the only reason she wasn’t smothered yet was because it was radiating… it was feeling…

…uncertain.

She stared at it. Yet there it was – she sensed it – a drop of fresh water amid burning acid. The thing was as unsure as a new student, or a new intern at a hospital full of rushing doctors and beeping confusion. It knew it had to do something. It just wasn’t clear what.

Around her, the roses changed.

Roseluck slowly looked up. Stalks towered over her. Blood red – oh why did she think blood red? – tilted downwards. Petals parted.

The maws of a particularly large one drooled. Growling closed in.

Deep within the blankets of terror and shock and confusion and a horrible, horrible pain at seeing the precious rose look ready to eat her alive, Roseluck’s hysterical mind wondered how a plant could growl.

There was a roar. The shadow charged.

One moment, it had simply hung uncertainly in space. The next moment, it was snaking through the air, swelling, filling up her entire face –

Roseluck screamed and threw herself backwards just as the black tip –

Snap!

…vanished.

Where it had been inches from her muzzle, the shadow was now replaced by the closed jaws of the giant rose flower, which straightened up and hunched its stem and swallowed. A notable bulge ran from the petals down to the roots, and then vanished.

Gently, the giant rose flower patted Roseluck on the head before straightening up again.

Eventually, still breathing heavily, Roseluck licked her lips and said, “What…?”

And her shocked memory answered: The Tantabus.




> Love and Nightmares
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dream faded. Constant beatbox music beat and boxed her brain. A flurry of colours resolved into dancing ponies. Gradually, she became aware of the hard table underneath her, and realized she’d slouched over it.

Someone was shaking her, and she shot to her hooves at once amid Doc’s spluttering.

“Roseluck!” he said sternly. “Roseluck! This is no time to be drifting off –”

“It’s the Tantabus.”

“What?” he said.

She rounded on him. “I saw the Tantabus!”

“What do you mean you saw it?”

“I saw it! When I…” Uncertainty crept up on her. “When I was dreaming.”

Doc sighed with relief. Close to, he smelled faintly of sweat and male musk, which started to blend in with the overcrowded air all around them. Her nose was stung by little irksome worries on the scent.

“Roseluck, don’t scare me like that,” he said, putting a hoof to his chest as though to steady himself. “Haven’t we got enough on our plates without you jumping and yelling like that?”

“But… I saw it. It must’ve been the Tantabus!”

“You can’t just assume that. It might have been a dream version of your own devising, perfectly normal. The dratted thing has been on your mind recently. I expect the stress didn’t help, either, though obviously I’m no expert on dream interpretation.”

Roseluck winced and licked her lips. “But it felt so real. At least, after it showed up. Before then, it was just…” She refused to share the specifics. She hadn’t known him that long. “It was just a normal dream.”

“Ah, well, heightened senses often accompany acute psychological arousal.”

“Not like that!”

“Roseluck, please! I simply don’t want to see you work yourself up and charge off without thinking!”

Goldengrape poked his head into the conversation so suddenly they each backed off fast. “What’s going on? I can hear you across the dance floor. And what was all that depression stuff you were asking Pinkie about?”

Roseluck’s lungs heaved with the effort of restraining themselves. She could still see the dark shape of the Tantabus, spreading wide, jolting her fears so harshly she’d all but screamed, and even now her gaze twitched from corner to corner, almost certain in its paranoia that she was being watched.

Besides, it was better than looking at Goldengrape’s widening face, though she smelled the confusion bubbling under his dance-drenched and overpoweringly merry musk.

His ears, having risen like excited dogs waiting for treats, now drooped at the realization that the cupboards were empty. “Daisy’s OK, isn’t she?”

Roseluck opened her mouth. Telling Doc was one thing; that was a discussion between equals, or at least between what she hoped might one day be equals. But they didn’t see Daisy as the blossom of the world, hadn’t spent countless sunny days strolling the park with her or gabbling on to her about the latest gossip… and that was all Roseluck knew about what they got up to when they were together.

How the heck was she supposed to tell him?

Too late, she realized she’d paused for far too long.

“I mean, I know she asked me to keep away,” Goldengrape said in the rush of words she’d never heard before, as though he were about to start babbling. “I just thought she wanted some alone time, I thought it’d be OK after a few days, she said she was going to sort some things out and I thought she meant the business and you know I only get in the way and I just –”

“Goldengrape,” she said soothingly.

“– I just wanted to respect her wishes, you know couples start fighting because they get in each other’s way, I thought she just needed space, she’ll be OK, I thought she’d be OK, is she OK?”

Before Roseluck even dared to answer, he slid slowly from poised uncertainty to a frantic, all-over-the-place horror. He didn’t pace; he simply went from right to left to some random direction as though trying to catch out an escape hiding around him.

It occurred to her that Daisy was either very, very lucky to have him, or beyond cruel in her incompetence.

“She’s… sleeping,” Roseluck managed to say.

Hope gleamed in Goldengrape’s eye; he stopped moving around. “Again? Oh, thank goodness. I know about that. Any idea when she’ll wake up?”

Roseluck forced herself to keep talking. “Well, that’s the thing. She’s been sleeping for a… for a while?”

The gleam faded. “How long?”

Roseluck mumbled the answer.

From a world far away, the DJ switched from one mind-numbing track to another, equally mind-numbing track. Laughter was muffled. The ponies and the lights became meaningless blobs shifting randomly as though they were surrounded by nothing but chaos.

“Three days!?” Goldengrape stared at her.

“We’ve kept her fed,” said Roseluck instantly, but she spoke as though throwing the words out before they could climb back in and smash up the furniture again. “And we’ve been trying to find out why, me and Doc. We thought – He thinks it’s just depression, and maybe something in her head –”

She slammed her mouth shut. You utter moron, Rose!

“Something’s in her head?” repeated Goldengrape, sagging slightly at the knees.

Doc leaped forwards. “Well, yes, we proved its existence earlier while investigating, but-but that’s not automatically cause for alarm.”

Seeing the growing terror on that puppy-dog of a face, Roseluck wanted to kick Doc. The two of them had been all over the place, messing about, and here Goldengrape’s expression struggled to capture in a few seconds what that would have meant to him over the hours. She put a hoof to her own cheek to keep her own terror pressed in.

Goldengrape finally found his tongue. “Not cause for alarm!?”

“Well, of course not. There’s always the possibility Daisy is having a visit from dear Princess Luna –”

And that Luna’s sucking her brain dry, thought Roseluck.

Goldengrape turned white. Up till now, she’d only believed that happened in books and stories, but the natural pale gold of his coat actually turned paler, as if the hue were fleeing his body and running off to hide.

“It can’t be Luna,” he said through a throat that sounded tighter and tighter. “She’s at the conference.”

“What conference is this?” said Doc.

“The conference Princess Twilight’s at right now. I heard it from Pinkie Pie. It can’t be Princess Luna because she stops dream-hopping when she’s busy with a conference. She can’t be in Daisy’s dream. Not for three whole days. That must be something else.”

Something else.

Something eating Daisy from the inside out. Something with no mind of its own, and it can’t possibly be Luna.

The words echoed around Roseluck’s head. There was just Goldengrape and Doc, and no universe beyond that except for the one conjured inside her head. And she saw the Tantabus, leaping at her face again. Whatever Doc said, if that was merely a dream then Twilight’s castle was merely a pebble.

Vaguely, she was aware of Doc and Goldengrape arguing, but the mumbling punched her mind as cotton cannonballs and left neither sense nor solace.

As though waiting for any defences to go down, details she’d barely noticed now stampeded over the walls of reality. Three days of seeing Daisy on the bed, the “nur nur nur” mocking them, the eerily glowing flat line, Nurse Redheart painting a picture of old Mister Greenhooves crying out in his sleep that he was being hunted, and then…

Oddly, the mutated giant rose, snapping up the Tantabus.

Niggles became tremors became quakes of excitement. Thanks to Luna, everyone knew how the Tantabus worked. It ate guilt. It corrupted dreams, just like those corrupted flowers. It wanted to escape to the real world.

So why had it pounced on her? And why had the supposedly corrupted rose turned on it?

And why, said a cold, cruel voice in her head, would you feel guilty, Roseluck?

She was shaking. But not from guilt: this was raw, red-hot, and seconds away from thrashing and screaming.

Her gaze locked onto Doc. Her ears rose as a wave threatening to crash.

“Let’s not rush things,” he said calmly. “Consider things from the objective point of view. It’s perfectly possible that Luna could be… attending dreams during the conference. That leads us to –”

“NO!” Roseluck snapped.

Blinking, he turned to her.

“No!” She caught Goldengrape’s pleading face and continued, “Doc, I’ve had enough. I’ve just had enough.”

“Oh Roseluck,” Doc said soothingly, “my dear, dear Roseluck. We’ll get to the bottom of this –”

“I meant with you! Look, I’m angry and frightened and I’m not sure I’m not about to burst into tears at any second. I don’t want to go from one place to another like a sightseeing tourist. I don’t want to ‘consider things from the objective point of view’ like this is a game. I don’t want to waste time talking about what might be true or could be true or would be true. I want Daisy back.”

Both stallions exchanged glances before she drew herself up.

“Haven’t we done enough? There must be a Tantabus! Something’s consuming Daisy, something that shouldn’t be there, and whatever you're trying to say, it’s definitely not the only princess in the world who can visit dreams without a big, scary helmet.”

“You mean,” said Doc, and he was so calm that she suddenly wanted to strangle him, “you believe the error bars are loose enough to err on the side of caution?”

“What!?” she shrieked.

“Oh. You’ve checked your p-values are tight enough for the purposes of a planned careful analysis of the evidence?”

“What are you talking about!?”

“You know p-values. How likely you are to be wrong, and all that?” He took a deep, insulting, frustrating breath. “If we consider –”

“NO! No more delays! GOSH, why do you DO this to me, Doc!?” Roseluck’s teeth tightened so hard that her lips contorted under the strain. “Listen to me! It’s already nearly sunset. Daisy is not going to last much longer. Please!”

At this, Goldengrape shouted loud enough to crack his voice, “Daisy’s in trouble!?”

Finally! Tears of relief fought to get to her eye. “And Lily’s in there too. She doesn’t know what’s going on. She’s wandering around a dream, and that, that, that thing is in there with them.”

For a moment, she panicked. He was surely going to ask what she meant by that.

But no. Goldengrape’s stretching face crossed a threshold and collapsed. Hardened. Cooled.

“I’m going,” he said at once. “I can’t stay here partying like a gormless idiot. That’s not how a boyfriend’s supposed to act! Roseluck, where’s Daisy right now?”

“At home, in bed. We kept her there –”

“Then let’s go! I’m not letting my last moment with her be the moment I made that stupid promise! Come on!”

Oh thank you thank you thank you! They both surged forwards.

Doc barred the way.

“Goldengrape! Roseluck! Be reasonable!”

She stepped right. He blocked her way. She stepped left. He jumped forwards and blocked the way.

“What are you going to do?” He blocked her again and again. “What’s your plan?”

“Doc!” Goldengrape made a grab for him. “Move it!”

“We’re getting Lily out of there!” Roseluck growled and raised a hoof to push him away. “And stop blocking me!”

“And what about Daisy?” said Doc.

“We wake her up, one way or another!”

Finally, Goldengrape ducked around him and galloped for the door, but Doc was fast enough to grip Roseluck by the hoof and hold her steady.

“Listen,” said Doc, holding her struggling leg firm. “If it is the Tantabus, then think! What’s the one thing you need to do to stop it?”

“Let me go!” She already saw Goldengrape vanish through the door.

“Consider the dominant dream theories! This is not some random monster – stop struggling, blast you! – that popped up magically. According to Kind Expression’s Theory of Transcript and Translate – no, listen! – the contents of the subject’s inner symbols and metaphors turn into the transcript for a dream, which in turn is translated into real life experience upon awakening.”

With a cry of frustration, Roseluck broke free. “What are you talking about!?”

“I’m talking about the mechanism by which dreams turn into reality.”

“Doc, please.”

Frowning, he clicked his tongue impatiently. “The coma, Roseluck! If Daisy’s being hunted, then the endgame of the dream will become the endgame of reality. And to stop that, you have to target it at its source. At what those inner symbols and metaphors mean.”

“Please!”

“In other words: if you don’t solve Daisy’s inner problem, she’ll end up like Mister Greenhooves!”

Roseluck stopped trying to sidestep around him. Already, she could imagine Goldengrape halfway along to the florist’s.

All she could manage was: “She won’t.”

“She might. That’s the worst-case scenario, since we don’t have time to speculate.”

“You worked that out in one go?”

“Strange as it may seem, I am capable of getting to the point sometimes.”

Roseluck even felt her mind collapsing under the weight of all that thick, suffocating stress. “We need magic! That’ll sort this out! Get Twilight! I don’t care if she’s busy! Just get her!”

Doc narrowed his eyes. He drew in a pontificating breath –

“No!” snapped Roseluck. “Don’t you dare say it!”

“Please, Roseluck! I assure you from the bottom of my heart I am just as good with my form of –”

“Daisy needs help, whatever form it takes! And I don’t care if you don’t like magic! I don’t care how we save Daisy. Not with science strapped to her head or a magic horn being waved about. It doesn’t matter. So long as we save her!”

Her insides quaked and boiled, while her eyes felt as though they were on fire. She trembled against the urge to breathe her way into a panic. Never had she so viciously, screamingly, desperately wanted to hit him.

And yet as she watched, Doc stared at her as though, for the first time in his life, utterly incapable of understanding what was so blinding and obvious to her. He had the beginnings of a gape, and made no movements when she stepped around him.

Time to go. No more delays. Not from Professor Pedantry.

She hurried out, barely noticing the shrieks and cackles of the party ponies until they faded almost to nothing. Grass squelched beneath her. Dark clouds hovered overhead. Yet even as the peace went to sleep around her, against all that, she never heard any frantic hooves following her. She looked back. No sign of Doc.

If she hadn’t been galloping at top speed, she would have sighed deeply. He should have rushed after her, he should have called her name over and over, he should have joined her side and matched her gallop for gallop across the grass as though in an ancient ceremony together. He should have brought violins and soft focus and the dulcet, dreamy tones of a really good actor about to convinced every female watcher that this, this was the stallion they secretly ached for, and would never get.

But he’d had his chance. He’d had too many already.

Beyond the edge of the clouds, one slit of light showed time descending with the sun. Gold fought its corner against the encroaching darkness.

I’m coming, Daisy. I’m coming, Lily. Just hold on until I get there. Please hold on. Please, please, please tell me I'm not too late.




> Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy whimpered and clung to her friend more tightly. Any second now. Any second.

A low wailing moan rent the air. It shook the leaves, hummed down the  trumpet trunks, danced over the waters and up the two ponies’ legs. As  though blown over, their ears fell back. Their eyes widened against the  gusts of alarm.

“D-D-D-D-D-Daisy?” stammered Lily.

“Y-Yeah?” Daisy stammered back.

“Wh-What was th-th-that n-n-n-noise just now?”

The vibrations died away. The rustling leaves stopped. In the silence, nothing moved.

“If I s-said ‘I don’t kn-kn-know’,” whispered Daisy, “how reass-s-s-sured would you be?”

Lily whimpered. “N-N-Not very.”

“Then I won’t s-say it.”

“Very… th-th-thoughtful of you, old f-f-fr-friend.”

Overhead,  the trumpet pitcher plants were no longer alone. Like some focusing  trick where blurred pictures suddenly resolved into clear images, what  Daisy had taken for yet more trumpets turned into sundews, and cobra  lilies, and greasy leaves, and yellow reedy flowers, and all manner of  Equestrian pitcher plants.

They were still utterly closed in. Not so much as a gap remained. However, her instincts were fighting this observation and trying to make her legs gallop.

Daisy clutched Lily tighter… and then slackened her grip.

“Hold on,” she said.

“I’m holding on as tightly as I can!”

“No,  I mean…” She sniffed. Strong honey smell. Actually quite nice, under  the circumstances. And the air was cool and refreshing, just like it had  been on that island.

“Daisy, I don’t wanna die in a dream! This is your dream! Make it stop!”

“They’re not doing anything.”

Lily stopped trembling. “Huh?”

Getting self-conscious, Daisy broke away from her. Now she could better take in the crowd of plants.

“We’re  assuming the worst again,” said Daisy, privately cursing herself.  “Maybe… Maybe we should think less like flower ponies and more like  other ponies.”

“I’ve had enough! I want to go home!”

“No,  look.” Daisy reached over and poked one of the trumpets. It dented  slightly under her touch, and she could feel the elastic tension before  she took her hoof away. “They’re just big plants. We know how to deal  with plants. Maybe they’re trying to tell us something?”

Sloshing as Lily joined her side to peer closer. “Like what?”

“Um… I dunno.”

“Oh, really reassuring, that!”

“Quiet. Don’t get hysterical. Let’s just think for a minute. What else do we know about carnivorous plants?”

Is  it just me, or are all those plants looking down at us? No, don’t be  daft, Daisy. Plants don’t even have eyes. What you should be thinking  is: Are they all leaning down towards us?

Yes. Yes, they are.

“They  only grow where it’s hard to get all the nutrition from the soil,” she  murmured under her breath. “Like, like bogs. And peat. And swamps.”

“So what?” Lily tugged at Daisy’s shoulders to come away. “Don’t get too close! I don’t wanna give them ideas!”

“What? But they’re plants, Lily.”

“Dream plants! Those things can kill!”

Daisy brushed her hooves off. “Are you trying to tell me you meet killer plants in your dreams?”

“No!”  Lily grimaced. “Well, yes. Somewhere between the killer bees and the  killer ants and the killer rocks and the killer lawnmower –”

“Seriously?” Daisy’s voice rose. “Even when you’re dreaming, you’re obsessed with –”

“Yes! And I’d very much like to think I’m getting out of this dream alive, thank you!” Lily returned to tugging at her leg.

“I mean, I suppose it makes a kind of sense, but I didn’t know you –”

“Yes!  I’m paranoid! Terrified! Going mad! Totally mad! Why do you think I  don’t tell anyone!? You think I don’t know what they’d say!? On top of  everything else they do say!?”

Daisy gaped at her.

The low, wailing moan stampeded through the air, full of vigour. Droplets danced on the waters around them.

Both  ponies huddled extremely close together; Daisy felt the tremble through  her flank and shoulders. Lily’s own head pressed against her thick  curls.

“Getmeouttahere, Daisy!” hissed Lily.

“Idunnohow!” Daisy hissed back. Those sundews and cobra lilies seemed much closer now; a wall of green encircled them tight enough to make them grip each other harder.

“Thisisbadthisisbadthisissoveryverybad!”

“It’s awful.” Daisy felt the words flee her mouth of their own accord. Come on, Daisy. Get a control over it. You can’t panic too, or we’re both lost. “It’s horrible…”

“Shh! I hear something!”

They clammed up.

After a while, Daisy cocked an ear. Nothing.

She opened her mouth to ask –

And then sensed it.

For  a moment, the air rushed behind the mass of green. A predatory rumble  reached through her ears and down into her spine and raked her with  fingers like icicles. Frozen with terror, she clenched her teeth until  they almost cracked and stiffened, until her skin seemed to melt under  the pressure. Disturbingly, she heard little droplets pitter-patter  where Lily was shaking too hard in the water. If they panicked now, if  they bolted and screamed…

It was right behind the stems. Creeping like a shadow…

She  kept her gaze on it. Or at least on where the predatory rumbling seemed to come from. So close were the stems that not even slits showed the world beyond. There was a definite movement of the rumble though, moving level with her eyes…

It passed by. It began fading away.

And then it was gone.

Neither of them relaxed, though the air was still.

“Now  should I ask what that was?” whispered Lily, having passed through the  raging rapids of stuttering and drifted into the silent expanses of  shock on the other side.

“I don’t know,” moaned Daisy.

“What do you mean you don’t know!? This is your dream!”

“I just don’t know.”

“Oh no. This isn’t a normal dream, is it?”

Daisy  almost laughed. Not even close. Everything felt too real. Only a small  voice in her head insisted it must be a dream, because oversized trumpet  pitchers and creeping shadows didn’t feature in her day-to-day life. That voice was getting smaller by the minute.

“What happens,” said Lily with  the air of one probing a missing limb they’ll never grow back, “if, in  this dream that doesn’t feel like a dream… we die?”

The next sound had an edge; another low wailing moan ripped the air out of sheer frustration.

Daisy turned to face Lily head-on. Forcing herself to make eye contact, she said gently, “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“You’re sorry!?” Then Lily slumped, held by the gaze. “Well, I suppose I got myself into this mess, really. But still. I mean. Um.”

“Only  it was so peaceful before. I just wanted to be left alone. But I  shouldn’t have pushed you girls away. You and Rose, who’ve always been  there, whatever happened and whatever we’ve faced or run away from. Always together.”

“Is this really the time?” Lily glanced about, ears cocked.

“Ha. You think we’re going to get more?”

Once  more, Lily met her gaze and sagged, curling into a ball. “I don’t know  what to think anymore! We’re just kidding ourselves. Sooner or later, we  run out of time anyway. What’s the point, really?”

They both  cocked their ears. Overhead, the crowding and leaning stems were back to  normal, or at least as normal as oversized carnivorous plants could be.

This was weird, because – now Daisy thought about it – she hadn’t seen them move at all.

“Daisy?” said Lily quietly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really sure there isn’t a way out of here?”

Daisy shrugged. “I’m sorry. Before, I just woke up. I had no control over it.”

“Not even the teeniest little hint comes to you? Anything at all?”

Daisy  patted her own head hard. Nothing came to mind, but perhaps there had been  some tiny, seemingly unimportant little clue, something she could use if  only she thought some more.

“I guess it is kind of nice here, once you get used to it,” Lily went on.

“Lily, I’m trying to think.”

“Those cobra lilies were a nice touch. One of my favourites, as far as carnivorous plants go. Amazing what plants can do, isn’t it?”

Daisy  resisted the urge to shush her. There was something going on deep  within Lily’s mind; the gabbling was just a way of coping. Or so she  suspected. She stopped and listened.

“Kind of… tranquil. Carefree.  No worries or pressures. Just you, comfortable… like, like being in bed  after a really long day. And maybe, maybe if I hadn’t been here, you’d  have figured something out.”

Daisy kept her doubts to herself. To say anything would be like kicking a friend’s carefully sculpted sandcastle down.

“And… I guess there are more important things than having everyone not think you’re mad.”

“Such as what?” said Daisy, hoping this was the equivalent of patting a sand tower into shape.

But  Lily was done talking. She swelled with the incoming breath. She turned  around. She pawed at the bottom of the swamp, kicking up a brown cloud  that spread around her. She cocked her jaw.

“Lily?” said Daisy.

“No. This time, it’s going to be different. You hear me? I’m not going to act like a snivelling coward anymore. I'm going to stay here, Daisy. Friend with friend. I've had enough of being the one who goes to pieces and shouts, 'The horror, the horror!' like some second-rate drama queen! No, you hear me!? You HEAR me!? Because this time, this time, I'm not leaving one of my best –”

Unexpectedly, alarm hit Lily’s face. When she reached up to her head and yelped –

She vanished.

Several blinks passed before Daisy’s brain caught up with her eyes.

“Lily?” she said.

Her  eyes strained. Inside her mouth, spit rushed over her tongue. Every  breath stung her nostrils, and she winced at each beat inside her chest.  Skin trembled under the tension. Hairs tingled. Fear surged into the  gap.

“Lily!” she whispered.

Spinning around, all she  met were more stems and more blackness. The plants had backed off at some point; now the  slits between them had become wide enough for a pony to run through. Yet  she heard neither sloshing nor galloping. Electric shocks jolted her  back and forth, searching for any hint of pink or blond…

“Lily!?” she called.

Her head darted about, desperate for clues.

“Lily!?” she hissed.

Black and green streaked around her.

“LILY!” she shrieked.

Nonono, don’t panic. Don’t panic! Don’t… panic.

A smug, rumbling growl. Right behind her.

She spun round.

Shadow.

Even  as she watched, she shrank under the glare of a face with no eyes.  An undulating patch of stars flexed and loomed over her. The smug, rumbling  growl rolled on and on, towards what her instincts knew, just knew,  were going to be excited roars and a flurry of movement. But not yet.  Not yet.

Under the growl, it was shifting shape.

Blades slid out.

Formed  from its own amorphous mass, the shears glittered with stars. The  blades were long enough to reach beyond a pony’s neck, and then…

They snipped twice.

Daisy  screamed as the Tantabus broke out into roars and the shadow shears lunged  at her. She threw herself away before the third, sudden snip!




> Enlightenment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lily! Lily! Lily!”

For a moment, Lily heard the echoing voice and knew she was going mad.

Vague notions of puffed-up bravery fled her mind as Lily Valley, third of the Flower Trio, latecomer to a lifetime of friendship, momentarily the bravest and most invulnerable mare she’d ever known… realized she was lying on a pretty darn hard floor.

“Lily, wake up! Wake up!”

Her back felt numb in bad places. The air was suddenly chilly and distant, like an aunt who’d found out about her dream world antics and insisted she take up a proper job in accountancy. Her hooves rested on boards that were probably the stoic uncle.

Also, her head felt suspiciously lighter. Like the top had been removed.

“Get up, please!”

She opened her eyes. Wood was a prominent theme.

So… she was back in Daisy’s room. For a moment, there’d been nothing but a flash of white. She’d been preparing for the long tunnel and the feeling of bliss, just in case. Sadly, neither were popular at the moment.

Instead, she had Roseluck leaning over her.

She sat up and winced.

“It’s in there with her! I had to get you out! Oh, if we’re too late… If I’m too late…”

Lily glanced around. No Doc. Odd.

“Please tell me we’re not too late!”

As though peering through an interesting glass case, she saw the specimen of Daisy On The Bed With Nasogastric Tube. Half-groggy thoughts blundered about her head, trying to figure out where this fit into her mental picture right now. There was a vague memory of swamp, and darkness…

“That’s why I had to get you out of there –”

Roseluck’s voice was suddenly a mocking echo. Memory snapped to attention.

Lily rounded on her. “You WHAT!?”

“Huh?” Roseluck instantly shrank where she stood. She’d seen Lily’s face.

Now it made sense! Lily grabbed whatever memory had staggered back and rose onto her hooves at once, making Roseluck scurry aside at once.

“Are you mad!?” Lily hurled the words as they came. “I was this close to figuring it out! She would’ve been stuck in there forever if I hadn’t come along! I got her to get up and walk! I snapped her out of her funk! I was working my way through whatever problem she had! I swore I was gonna stand by her! And right when I said that, what do you do? Pull the plug! You utter, utter… moonflower!”

Flames roared their assent inside her. Heroism was not something she got to savour, and to have it snatched away like that? She almost smoked where she stood.

“But –” began Roseluck.

“Would it kill you to trust me for a few minutes more, you dim-witted daffodil?”

“I had to!” wailed Roseluck. “Doc and I, we found out what’s going on!”

Old instincts seized the conversation from Lily. When in doubt, pass the problem on like a parcel.

She blinked. “You did?”

“Yes! So I had to take the helmet off. I really need to tell you what’s going on.”

Something was off… Lily’s memory slipped her a memo.

“Where’s Doc?” she said.

Redness flashed across Roseluck’s face. “Not important. Lily: there’s a dream-invader here.”

“I know that, you bellflower. I heard it. And I told Daisy I kept seeing something in the shadows, but she always missed it.”

“You saw it?”

“Well… not in so many words, no. I thought I saw something, but I wasn’t sure. It could’ve been that plant thing with green teeth.”

“Huh?”

Lily glanced at Daisy. “What the…?”

This time, she focused.

Daisy wasn’t sweating. “Sweating” suggested a mere few drops glinting like salt on a slab of meat. She was marinated in sweat. Whole flanks and legs and even the strands of her curly hair gleamed under the perspiration. The covers darkened beneath her.

Her face was contorting.

Her limbs twitched.

And she was muttering very, very quietly.

With the tube sticking out of her nose, it looked horribly like she was seconds away from turning suddenly still.

Inner fires went out. The familiar rising waters of dread slowly threatened to drown her. She could not move her gaze away.

“What,” she said, “is that?”

“She just started like this!” Roseluck hurried through her words as though terrified of being accused. “As soon as I took the helmet off, she murmured your name a few times. Then this came out of nowhere. I swear! Oh no, oh no, oh no… It’s just like Mister Greenhooves!”

Now that Lily concentrated, the contortions across the face jumped from shocked terror to wincing pains.

“Wha?” she said.

“When we started, we just thought she might be like Mister Greenhooves. Maybe it was just a medical matter. We talked to Nurse Redheart about it. Mister Greenhooves went like this just before he… Just before he…”

They did not talk about Mister Greenhooves. Lily’s mind strained not to unravel. That rule had been as solid as the garden wall, and suddenly Roseluck wouldn’t talk about anything else.

“And then she said he was talking about being hunted. They’re too similar! Mister Greenhooves did the exact same thing, sleeping longer and longer. It must’ve been the dream-invader! And I only know two, and they both eat their victims from the inside-out!”

Get to the point, get to the point, get to the point! Yet Lily could barely open her mouth, possibly to scream. She’d known something was eating Daisy, but not that way.

“And we used some detectoring devices, and they showed it was in there with you! It’s literally eating Daisy’s mind. And it tried to get mine! I dropped off for a few seconds, and there it was!”

Lily found her voice huddling deep at the bottom of her hooves. “What was?”

“The Tantabus! It can’t be anything else! You know what Princess Luna said about the Tantabus!”

Giving up on the rest of her, Lily’s mind churned up a few errant memories of Twilight going on about it at some party or other. It could hop from dream to dream, if it saw anyone else in yours and thought they’d make a nice target.

Lily frowned briefly. “You dropped off?”

“Only for a bit! I saw it there! In the meadow I was dreaming about!”

Meadow? And for a moment, the same meadow came back to her, amid the foalish laughter that now sounded nowhere near as pleasant as it had done.

“It hopped over?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Roseluck. “Did you dream of me at any point? Or maybe it was my own –”

“What do you mean, ‘your own’?” Lily’s mouth followed the conversation, hoping her mind and her gaze on Daisy would come back soon.

“I don’t know! But if there’s one inside Daisy, then we have to do something!”

The spell broke. Lily opened her mouth. She got as far as “The horr–”

When the bedroom door creaked, almost apologetically, and Goldengrape stood on the threshold. Stance: stiff. Face: pale. Gaze: blank.

Lily and Roseluck watched, braced to bolt, as he forced himself to walk over to the bedside – Lily backed out of his way – and looked over his sleeping beauty.

The two of them glanced at each other.

“He needed a moment,” Roseluck whispered. “After the initial shock.”

Judging from his heavy breathing, he desperately needed another one. His hoof reached across to hers. The next breath he took could have been a sniff.

Sheer intrigued embarrassment kept Lily staring.

Then he wheeled round on them; they flinched, ready to flee.

Trying to keep his voice firm, he frowned and said, “What do we do?”

Lily glanced at Roseluck, whose eyes were shimmering. “Ask her, I guess.”

“I can’t give up just yet. I haven’t said my best last words to her. I had the ‘told you I was ill’ gag down to a tee, just in case.” He added, wincing slightly, “Well, I always thought I’d go first, you know?”

“Your last words were going to be a joke?”

“Daisy liked my jokes. It would’ve given her a smile.”

An unaccountable surge of envy knocked Lily senseless for a few seconds. To think: between the secret food stocks and the “End of the World” survival guides, she’d never once considered any emergency last words for herself. It struck her as a major oversight. Certainly she hadn’t considered sharing her last moments, except in the vague sense that Daisy and Roseluck would’ve been welcome in her bunker, or at least the basement.

“What?” she said.

Roseluck choked and wiped her face hastily. “I know… We have to focus.”

“You’re sure this is the Tantabus?” said Lily.

Roseluck nodded firmly.

“But we saw Princess Luna –”

“I don’t know what we saw, but back then we were all in that shared dream, and today I saw the thing skulking around in my dream. If it hadn’t been for that nice rose, it would have eaten me.”

Oh goodness, and I was so close to getting all this too. “You what? What rose? What are you talking about?”

“The rose in my dream! It protected me! It must have sensed the thing and tried to save me. You know how I am with roses.”

“You’ve lost me again.”

“Not important.” Roseluck coughed. “This thing could be something Tantabus-like. Or maybe, maybe you can make your own Tantabus. Like a… Like a Tantaballus, Doc would’ve said. A little Tantabus.” Defiantly, she glared. “No one said you couldn’t.”

“Yes, but Daisy? Make one?”

“Maybe.”

“From scratch?”

“No! Maybe from some… some leftover magic when Luna cast that spell. After all, we were in her nightmare as much as she was in our dreams.”

Lily waved her forelimbs; she could hear Daisy’s mutterings grow louder and more urgent. “We’re running out of time. Twilight can sort it out! Look,” continued Lily in a bid to stop the stares coming her way, “why don’t we get… I dunno, Princess Twilight to come down here? Tell her it’s life-or-death now. She can’t say no to that.”

Disturbingly, Roseluck looked at her as though she’d uttered some profanity, like “why don’t we just let Daisy pop her clogs and call her stuff”.

“Um,” Lily said. “I only meant –”

“I’ll do it,” said Goldengrape firmly.

“You will?” Roseluck’s voice shot to the roof.

“I’ll get the whole of Canterlot, if I have to! Not a moment to lose for my lady-in-waiting!”

Roseluck sagged at the knees; instantly, Lily rushed forwards to stop the faint, and was surprised to find her hooves meeting nothing. To her shock, her friend was just as instantly in tears.

“You’re so romantic!” Roseluck wailed. “How did Daisy deserve you?”

“Eh?” he said.

Daisy yelped.

They all found her thrashing and kicking. Within seconds, she’d knocked the nasogastric tube out of her nose and kicked it off her bed with a clatter. Over her scalp, the helmet gaped and threatened to come off. Her face was losing its fight against the pain.

“No,” she kept moaning. “No… Leave me alone… Stay away… Help. Help me… Please… No… Leave me alone… Go away…”

“Just like Mister Greenhooves!” After that, Roseluck bit her hoof and garbled around the obstruction.

Lily tried not to squeak. Merely remembering Luna's Tantabus had been a bad night. To think: all the time she'd blundered along with Daisy, cursing the swamp and snapping at each other, and all that time this thing had been stalking them. Actually stalking them!

And the Tantabus was feeding on Luna’s guilt. Everyone had to talk the guilt out of her, so she could put the Tantabus back inside herself. If she hadn’t gotten over it in time, who knows what would have happened?

Guilt. That’s what it wants.

Daisy had reeked of guilt…

“My gosh,” Lily breathed.

“I’m sorry…” groaned Daisy as she started to curl her spine, tense, and then curl it another way. “Lily… I’m sorry… Please… Come back…”

“Daisy!” Goldengrape was on her side at once.

Roseluck shot for the helmet lying on the floor –

Before, thinking fast, Lily’s hooves beat her to it. “What do you think you’re doing, Rose?”

“I gotta get in there!” Stubbornly, Roseluck tugged; Lily tugged back.

“You? No, I gotta get in there!”

“I’ve known her longest! I can talk her down!”

“You can't! I’ve been with her ages softening her up! She needs a familiar face! I can talk her down!”

Fury bared Roseluck’s teeth. “You’re not the leader, Lily! Let go! I have to help her!”

“We don’t have leaders, Rose! Daisy needs someone who’s spent time with her! She’ll need all the emotional help she can get!”

“And you’re qualified to give her that? You're too much of a coward! You can't help your own emotions, never mind Daisy's!”

Lily growled and tugged it out of her grip; at once, she had to fend Rose off with the other hoof. “I’m not a coward, and you're no better than me, actually! I'm the oldest and I'm the most responsible! And I'm not a yes-mare or a suck-up! I’ll do it!”

“I’m the bravest and the smartest of all of us! I know how the Tantaballus works! I know what I'm doing! I have to see this through! So I’ll do it!”

“Let go!” A snatch, and they were both in a tug-of-war again.

“No! You let go!”

“What's got into you, Rose?”

“What's gotten into you!?”

“We're wasting time!”

“Daisy needs my help!”

Goldengrape’s hoof batted the helmet down and held it down. Both of them made the mistake of meeting his glower. They had about as much chance as a crocus under a rolling wine barrel.

“There’s no time for this!” he said, turning to Roseluck. “It doesn’t matter who does it, so long as it’s done!”

“But I’ve been doing all the work –” Roseluck cut herself off under his sudden attention. “I mean, I can do it… I can…”

“And I think Lily should do it,” he said. “Maybe she’s not the most qualified pony, but Daisy told me once: if she ever got into a funk, she’d trust you to make her feel better but she’d trust Lily to snap her out of it. Lily says what you won't. I don’t know what she told you, but I think I’d trust her judgement. Especially right now. Wouldn’t you?”

To her own surprise, Lily said, “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m the most qualified.”

Wait. Daisy said that? To him?

She checked his face in case this was a hidden prank. His glare said otherwise, rather emphatically, and to such an extent that she stopped checking quite quickly.

“But…” said Roseluck. “But I’ve got this under control…”

Goldengrape’s glare melted. “It’s OK. Daisy would say –”

“Oh, please don’t tell me.” Roseluck straightened up. “Sometimes, I need to stop trying to prove myself just because I want to show off what I can do, right? Whether it’s a talk or a disaster or my emotions or what other ponies do. It's OK if I let it go. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it.”

“Er…” he said.

“They don’t teach you that in science, but –”

“Actually, I was gonna say she’d say to find something else to do while you wait. But, uh, that stuff’s pretty good too.”

Roseluck was shaking. Feeling a bit left-out, Lily reached across and patted her on the shoulder.

“We’ve got this,” she said. “Rose, you've found stuff out. Good work. It's helped. But I'm getting Daisy out. She's not thinking straight. She needs someone to give her a push, and who better than me? Look, it’s not like we’re pushing you away. And Daisy’s gonna need you when we come back. She'll need her friends.”

“When? You mean if you come back.” Roseluck gulped.

“When. I mean when.”

If. If. If.

Lily glowered at the writhing Daisy on the bed. True, several hours with someone so determined to drive her up the wall had kicked her brain up to a kind of carefree realm, where volunteering for suicide missions sounded like business as usual. But she also felt the heat rising. Hundreds of insults and chants and muttered comments about her cowardice rose like steam off Daisy’s body – and from a hundred other voices – and what did it matter that most of them were clearly the voices of foals? That sort of thing stuck.

If they came back? If!?

Well, she didn’t need no Explorer Flora Plant Pot of Power. Not at her age. She’d silence those taunting voices. She’d make Daisy shut up and stare, all right.

So Lily really, really needed to get going, then. Already, the unnatural bravery was fading away like a sugar rush, promising pain once the fun was over.

Anyway, she'd told Daisy about the nightmares. She'd actually told Daisy about the nightmares. There was no going back from that. She was mad. Officially, certifiably, unquestionably, pathetically, crashingly, wearily, hopelessly mad.

Nothing mattered now.

Oddly, she felt the better for knowing that. Up till now, she'd secretly and not-so-secretly assumed she was the only one with her head screwed on right. Hardly anyone had believed her doom and gloom, had taken her suggestions on how to find food in the wild post-civilization, or had even let her send her draft policies to the mayor in case the next magically evil terror tried to take over the town.

Well, that settled it. She was ruined. Malformed. Non compost mental.

There wasn't enough anger boiling through her veins right now. And she wasn't going to take it lying down.

While Goldengrape crashed into the door and then thundered downstairs, while Daisy moaned the same name over and over, and while Roseluck stared with hoof over mouth, Lily laid herself back down. The helmet she rammed over her head.

“I feel so helpless…” mumbled Roseluck.

A bit of the more familiar Lily broke through. “How do you think I feel?”

“You wanna swap?”

“I want Daisy back.” Lily clenched her teeth. Well, the truth would be misleading enough for now. She had to prove something. She could solve this. She knew it. Being mad wasn't going to stop her now.

As though this were utterly natural and right, Roseluck nodded. “Still, I hope Goldengrape gets Twilight here.”

“What’s Doc doing, then?”

Coldness bit into Lily’s face at Roseluck’s glare. “He doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Um. OK…?”

Roseluck’s glare slopped down to sadness. “Hopefully, one of us will get there in time. Magic or science or whatever it takes.”

“I didn’t ask.” Chewing her cheek, Lily forced her mind not to pick apart Roseluck’s last sentence. Wasn’t important right now.

“Good luck.” Roseluck raised a hoof.

Lily raised her own forelimb in turn. They wrapped and gripped each other, a little tighter than was comfortable to Lily’s soft skin.

“Luck isn’t my friend right now,” said Lily.

“I know what you mean.”

“I wish I wasn't doing this.”

“Me neither. But we want Daisy back.”

Lily nodded grimly. “OK… Here goes…”

Their hooves separated much too soon. Roseluck went over to the suitcase where Doc had abandoned it. Lily closed her eyes and ignored the sounds of clicking and tapping.

Try to sleep, Lily…

Sleep…

Slee – How exactly did I do this last time?

A final click.

Lily's eyes tightened. Her mind became a confused blur. This time, it felt like mere seconds.





The hard floor against her back faded away. Not like she was being lifted off it: more like the thing was thinning and becoming less there until, without any obvious change, it wasn’t. Moisture gripped her limbs. Heavy air stuffed her lungs as she breathed.

Lily’s sense of gravity pulled the other way. Carefully, clenching them in readiness from time to time, she eased her eyelids back.

The first thing she noticed: darkness closed in, tighter than it had done. Barely a few feet ahead now, instead of the copious yards of before. Cobra lilies and pitcher plants crowded around her. Something with green teeth hung in the air overhead.

All looking at her. It didn’t matter that they had not an eye among them. The intensity of their planty stares was bad enough.

Lily cowered slightly before she remembered herself. Whatever bravery flowed through her was already ebbing.

“Daisy?” she said to the green teeth.

They stared at her for a while longer.

Then someone screamed. “LLLLLIIIIIILLLLLLYYYYY!”

As one, the plants… were suddenly all facing one way to her left. Or rather, had always been facing that way, and now Lily’s mind was trying to convince her that she’d merely misremembered.

Well, they weren’t trying to eat her or hem her in. And didn’t she suspect Daisy had some influence over them?

Lily galloped. She’d long since learned how to go full pelt at a moment’s notice. Cowardice had taught her well, and even if it hadn’t, sheer burning rage flooded her again. It set her limbs on fire.

Without words, without slowing, and with the full and horrifying knowledge that she was running towards danger, Lily gave a battle cry. Being Lily, she gave it in the safe and quiet confines of her head. But she meant it.

She splashed her way as fast as she could. Not a plant stood in her way.

Who dares to say I can’t be an adventurer!? Who doubts me now, huh!? Who doubts me!? WHO!?

APART from me, of course!?




> Lily's Mark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snip!

Daisy bounced off another trunk in her haste to scramble out of range. Her legs sliced through the water. It snipped again, sounding far too close, but she didn’t dare look back.

Snip! Snip! Snip!

A stem groaned, creaked, and then crashed onto the waters behind her. Splashes hit her croup and drenched her tail. Underneath, the wave rolled and pushed against the rear of each leg.

Snip!

In her mad dash to escape, she wondered how fast a shadow could move. It didn’t walk. It didn’t float. It had no pesky legs – already throbbing – to sort out.

She jinked so sharply her tail whipped her back legs. Seconds later, the water hissed under the SNIP!

Bouncing off more trunks, she zigzagged through the stems. Her panting grew harsher on her throat. Sooner or later, she’d run out of breath.

She slid round a sundew, scything through the water, and stopped. No matter what, she had to catch a moment’s rest. Maybe even hide. Running amounted to little more than making herself an obvious target.

Too late, she noted the white froth where she’d skidded. They weren’t fading fast enough.

Somewhere nearby, the low moan rumbled.

No. Hiding amounted to little more than a headstart if it caught her. When it caught her.

Oh, why me?

She turned to flee, and then jerked back.

She looked round, forcing her head against whatever suddenly held it in place.

Uselessly, her legs flailed in midair. Something sucked hard at her back and mane. In fact, the harder she twisted and turned, the more it spread along her side too.

Trapped, by the very sundew she’d hidden behind. Beads of dew the size of her head, all oozing over her. She hadn't even noticed until now.

Silently as she dared, she writhed and flexed and twisted and stiffened. The sundew merely clung on. Then, as the low moan drew closer, the world hurled itself around her and the sundew wrapped around her, and she opened her mouth to yell before more ooze crawled in.

Everything went dark.

Then the sundew stopped curling around her. She felt its weight shifting and then settling.

Panic rushed. Her legs kicked. Nothing could move. The embrace of the whole plant was simply too tight.

And then…

A long, low moan…

…right next to the leaf.

If she turned ever so slightly, eyes wide, she could just make out the translucent green of the leaf, and the shadow beyond it, casting its silhouette against the green. Shears rose like a sniffing snout.

Daisy watched, unable to look away, unable to even try to scream.

Finally, it jerked away. The shadow outside was gone. The low moan faded in the distance.

To her surprise, the leaf unfurled. Drops drew away. Fresh air washed over her before she gently eased her hooves through the surface of cold water. When she checked, the leaf of the sundew retreated and laid its trap again.

To make sure, she patted herself down. Locks, flanks, tail: all there.

“What?” she said.

Around her, the carnivorous plants did nothing. Of course they did. They were plants.

Said one part of her mind. Another part said that this was a dream, after all. Plants didn’t just do planty things when they were dreams.

She looked around. The shadow was gone. Of course, this was her dream, but then what had just happened?

The sundew had let her go… because she’d wanted it? She controlled it? No: otherwise it wouldn’t have snatched her at all. But if so, then, when the shadow came, why would the sundew wait until that moment to move?

Snip.

Ah. So the shadow hadn’t gone far, then. Daisy made to gallop – and put her four hooves down hard, sending a surge of water to rush away.

No, Daisy, she thought. You’re not panicking. Come on. What does this mean? Where are we supposed to go? What’s left to do? Where’s Lily? Lily! She might still be here, trapped, or worse!

Daisy gripped her head. What was she doing? What had she done? If Lily had gotten into trouble, then she, Daisy, had done it to her. Lily wouldn’t even have been here if Daisy had thought properly, instead of sitting on a cosy little island in a swamp in a dream, hiding and pretending to be useful…

The shadow chuckled.

Snip.

Up ahead, she saw the living patch of stars zoom towards her, zipping and curling around stems which tangled amongst themselves, and flowers which rained petals down over the thing.

It occurred to her the thing was having trouble. Without apparently moving, the stems drew tighter. Gaps that had looked size enough for a full pony now only allowed slithers of darkness no bigger than a hoof’s width. Angry screeches broke out. Shears slashed and hacked at the thick vegetation crowding around it.

Crowding around it? Almost like the plants were…

Daisy turned and galloped.

Even here, in the dream, it sounded too crazy to be true. As she galloped, however, she sensed the route was growing wider and wider, as though plants up ahead had taken care to grow out of her way. Their mere existence… living traps… non-animals that ate animals… was it a warning? It’d probably make sense to a child, to someone who didn’t worry about normal adult things like job security or keeping the house from getting repossessed, but ancient things. Things that lurked in darkness, and crept up inside the heart.

And, well, plants were her specialty. Should anything want to take form, it’d take one she understood. Or should have understood, if she hadn’t been fretting over the big adult things.

Snip. Snip! SNIP!

Triumph roared behind her.

Daisy clenched her teeth so tightly the tears burned in her eyes. Just before she died, before it caught up with her at last, why hadn’t she been more careful? Why was she so useless, so inadequate? She hadn’t asked to be this way.

Fatally, she looked back to see shears like twin swords opening wide and reaching close enough to drool on her flanks like fangs –

A splash. A flurry of pink and blond.

Lily leaped out from the side and rammed the shadow hard with her shoulder.

They tumbled away from each other. Shrieks of rage faded under the frantic snips and the crash of stems and leaves. Opposite, Lily simply slapped onto the waters and slumped.

No! Daisy’s retreat jerked into a gallop towards the pink heap, almost knotting her legs with the sheer effort. “Lily!”

When she reached down to pick her up, she saw a new mark on Lily's body.

A circle of black blurred into the pink coat on her shoulder. Even as Daisy watched, the circular mark spread a little wider as though aiming to swallow the upper limb. Stars twinkled inside it.

“Lily! What happened? Are you all right? Lily, your shoulder!”

“Yes…” Lily winced and stumbled away – Daisy seized her, taking care to avoid the mark. “I think… I think I’ve done my brave deed for the day…”

“Lily, please.”

“Where are we?” Lily squinted about. “Oh. Still stuck here.”

A threatening rumble loomed up behind. Daisy didn’t need Lily’s widening eyes.

“That’s…” she mumbled.

“Um,” said Lily.

“I’m at the fleeing stage, if it helps,” said Daisy, pushing her up onto her feet. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Gladly! Whatever! Just run!”

Both of them splashed their way into a gallop as the ominous snipping noises slashed at the air. They could even hear the whoosh of the blades.

Despite her own struggling legs, Daisy forced herself to keep going. Soon, she noticed Lily was leading by several hooves. Cobra lily petals brushed their heads. Vast flowers trembled under the turbulence. After several seconds, Daisy risked a look back, and saw pitcher plants that certainly hadn’t been there before, blocking the shadow and waiting for its angry rush to land smack into their gaping mouths.

One large one caught it. The leaf snapped down like a lid.

Instantly, ripping sounds came from within. A tip of a starry blade punctured the pitcher’s side.

This was as much as Daisy dared to watch before she prodded Lily’s rump to keep her going. Both of them left the struggles far away, and Daisy imagined the ever-present mist shielding them from view.

“Lily!” she called. “Stop!”

“Not a chance!”

“We can’t… keep running… forever! We have… to find a way… out!”

Lily’s howl cut through her ears. Through her own blurred gaze, Daisy saw her close her eyes.

No. No more running. And after all, it had worked once already…

“Then let’s go this way!” Daisy lunged and grabbed Lily’s saddle. “Hide! Where it can’t find us!”

She steered her friend into the mass of stems on one side and they both smacked into a cobra lily. Scrambling, Daisy pushed Lily – still trying to gallop even up a slope – past the red tongue petals and into the brown gaping mouth, beyond prison bar hairs. Lily was clearly too panicky to stop and ask questions. Instead, Lily’s rear disappeared inside before Lily’s head poked out and her hooves pulled Daisy up.

“Keep quiet and don’t move!” Daisy hissed.

Not easy, she reflected. The space was a brown shell fit for a couple of fillies. Two full-grown mares were torso-to-torso. Daisy felt her legs being forced around what she hoped was Lily’s midriff.

“I can’t breathe…” Lily whimpered. Every pant pushed and drew back from Daisy’s knee.

“Just stop moving!” she hissed. When she noticed her own panting, she tried to will it down to a tiny breath.

They fell silent, trying not to think too hard about how they were positioned.

Outside, the snipping rushed by and then vanished.

Neither of them moved until a solid minute had passed. Numbness crept up Daisy’s rear; she’d caught her leg at a bent angle. They were both still panting.

Eventually, Lily wriggled her way out. Daisy slipped after her and landed with a splash beside her.

“Were we just –!?” Lily began before Daisy covered her mouth with a hoof.

“Don’t think about that.” Daisy glanced about. “On the other side of those stems. We need to think this one through.” She removed her hoof.

“Yes, but –”

“It’s OK. The plants aren’t dangerous. Just… Just trust me on this one, please? It’s a little hard to explain. I’m still trying to figure stuff out myself.”

Further into the undergrowth, they slunk away. From a distance, the shadow’s frustrated wail roared through the blackness.





Hunkered down behind the stems, they could still hear the shadow’s shrieks in the distance.

“It’s getting impatient,” said Lily.

Daisy frowned, mouth half-open. Normally, Lily was no more intellectual than the flowers she tended, but away from the immediate panic, she was actually risking a smile. Like she knew things.

“Lily, what –?”

“Rose explained it to me while I was out. That thing is after you. It’s the Tantabus.”

If anything, Daisy’s frown tightened.

“No… the Tantabus is gone,” she said. “We all saw it go. Didn’t Princess Luna absorb it?” Truth be told, the details were a little hazy. During the incident, everyone had seen the living shadow shrink and vanish into Luna’s chest, as easily as a water droplet meeting a larger pond.

“Sorry, I got it wrong. It’s like the Tantabus, but smaller and less powerful. They’re both created in pony minds, and then they feed off the guilt of the host until they’re strong enough to beat them.”

“What!?”

“Rose called it…” Lily screwed up her face for a moment, ear cocked. “A Tantaballus? A little Tantabus.”

“You mean that thing… I created that?”

“Uh huh. It’s not the only one. Mister Greenhooves got infected by his own version. Daisy.” Both of Lily’s eyes shimmered. “It’s horrible! That thing will smell out your guilt and feed off it, and then when it thinks it’s got you, like Mister Greenhooves… you'll… you'll…”

Horror held Daisy’s stare. “They don’t?”

“They do!”

“But that can't be right. Luna's didn't do that. It just tried to escape.”

“Maybe it's different if you're not a princess? Don't ask me! These are the facts! I didn't stop to cross-reference everything Rose told me! You were in a bad way! Which is why we’ve got to get out of here now!”

Another loud screech slashed at the silence. Both of them twitched and ducked down briefly.

“I created that!?” said Daisy.

Yet a treacherous thought surfaced. All over Equestria, plenty of monsters were drawn to pony thoughts and feelings: hungry, strange monsters that treated innermost secrets like midnight snacks. Stories about them spread far and wide. And a good amount of Luna's job had to involve finding the monsters in the head, right? Those monsters could come from anywhere. They didn't have to obey commonsense rules. In short, it wasn’t an idea to cast aside lightly. However much she wanted to hurl it with great force.

Now Lily’s in here too. She shouldn’t be. If what she says is true, this has to be between me and that… that thing.

“Oh,” she groaned. “This just goes from bad to worse.”

“None of that!” snapped Lily. “Come on, Daisy! There’s gotta be a way to get you out of here! The guilt! What’s the guilt!?”

“It’s too late. So long as I don’t know how I’m supposed to – I’m sorry, what?”

Lily seized her by the shoulders. “Daisy, think! We’re not giving up when there’s a good chance we’ll get eaten! We’ll panic and run and maybe struggle a bit, but we’re not making it easy, got it? That’s exactly what it wants!”

“But if anything happens to you –”

“I chose to come back! Granted, this wasn’t much of a choice, but I made it.”

“Only because I was too dumb to –”

“No! Stop! Stop right there. Listen to me. Every time you get sad or start beating yourself up, you make it easy for that Tanta-whatever-it-is to come find you. Yeah, I don’t know how we’re gonna get out either, and it’ll probably catch us sooner or later, but I’m still gonna try!”

She took a deep breath. Daisy had never seen her face harden with defiance as sharp as this. Any moment, she childishly expected fangs to grow out of Lily’s mouth.

“You’re not a hero, Daisy,” said Lily. “Neither am I.”

“I never said I was!”

“But that's what you want to be. Deep down. I know you, Daisy. Well, it's nonsense. You're holding yourself up to a nonsense standard. Stop beating yourself up over it, or it'll kill you.”

Somewhere much too close by, the shadow cried out, and now it sounded much less angry and much more jubilant.

“OK, OK,” said Lily, softening to the point her eyes shimmered again. “We are going mad! But here’s the important thing; we’re going mad together! Together! Roseluck and everyone else are gonna do what they can, but it starts with you. What are you so guilty about?”

Urgently, Daisy shushed her. Both of them heard the creature hacking at stems, sending plants crashing into the waters. She hoped that was buying them more time, however they planned to spend what little they had left.

“Lily, please,” she said weakly. “Just get out of here.”

“No.”

“Don’t be a martyr. Not for my sake. You’re better off without me. No, listen,” she spoke faster, hearing Lily gasp for her reply, “you just said that thing’s my problem. I brought it here. It’s my fault. Whatever happens, I’m not letting you go down with me.”

“You can’t say that!” Lily’s lip trembled.

“Can’t I? In a few seconds, that thing’s going to be here, and then I’m as good as gone. What else am I going to do? You don’t even know how to get me out of here. What choice do I have?”

Hastily, she pushed off Lily’s forelimbs and waved her away. Lily responded by splashing her face.

Cold spluttered out of her mouth. She had to wipe her face down, and coughed drops up.

“I’ve had it up to here,” Lily said, and when she spoke her voice shook, “with you acting like you know better than us, or are smarter than us, or are leading us all the time like we’re foals. Would it kill you to admit you’re just as scared as us? And I know what you’re gonna say: we can’t keep panicking, we have to be braver than this, or at least you do. Well, guess what? We don’t! You don’t! We’re all scared, OK? We’re in this together, whether you like it or not! Now help me, please! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and DO something! This isn't a dream! This is real! Do something real!”

The last crash burst on the other side of the stems. They even felt the surge of the waves.

As one, they ducked down.

Something sniffed nearby. Faces an inch apart, Lily and Daisy held their breaths.

Not daring to even breathe the words, Daisy mouthed, How?

“'Now' what?” Lily whispered while the thing came gliding through the air beyond their shelter.

Daisy tapped her teeth together through sheer nerves. “I don't know what to do,” she whispered back.

“We’ll think of something. Just start by looking around.”

Chewing her lip, Daisy did so. Plants. Waters. Blackness.

At that point, the idea didn’t exactly hit her. Not exactly. Instead, she sensed, as though the air were disturbed, the weight of the idea coming towards her, perhaps in slow motion.

Another snip. Another creak and a crash. Another surge of water pushed past them.

“That’s it…” she murmured.

Lily cocked both ears. “What?”

“Shh. I think I’ve got the right idea. Only…” She took a deep breath. “Do you trust me?”

Wide-eyed but tight-lipped, Lily nodded.

“Do you trust these plants?”

A flicker of a frown that time. “Huh?”

“And do you know what we have to do yet? What’s the one carnivorous plant everyone knows?”

“I don’t underst–”

But Daisy was already straightening up, grinning. The idea was almost upon her. She knew as soon as it hit, her entire body would shake under the impact and she'd buckle, probably at the knees. However, until then she had full control. She could work around it, free as a dandelion seed on an updraft. For the moment.

“Daisy!” hissed Lily. “Get down!”

“Not just yet.” Daisy sucked a lungful of air; her heart was on the verge of shrieking and somersaulting around her chest. “Get ready.”

“What? What for?”

“To gallop.”

“Oh, no worries there.”

Yet she was a flower pony to the last; Daisy swallowed and quelled the urge to turn and run off screaming. So long as she didn’t think about it…

Her gaze met Lily's shoulder. The shoulder.

Painfully, Daisy made sure not to stare at it. Lily would only ask. Merely thinking that much terrified her down to her brittle bones. She was itching to faint, but told herself over and over that, if she fainted now, she would never get up again.

“Just don’t ask,” she managed to say. “Please? I’m not entirely sure this isn’t mad, but it’s all I’ve got.”

And at least if this goes pear-shaped, we won’t be around to cry about it. Not for long.




> The Final Struggle for Daisy's Heart
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The starry scythe hacked its way through the stems and then resolved – amid the splashing greenery – back into the cape-like shadow, which loomed over the spot where the two had been.

Which they were watching now, from the next plant over. They'd moved to another hiding spot ahead of time.

Overhead, the shadow boiled. Ripples flexed along the edges. The whole thing cracked like a whip and let out a screech worse than nails on corrugated iron. Lily had to bite her lip to stop the yelp.

Both of them crouched down behind the pitcher plant. Of course one had been there. And so had the suspiciously helpful stems nearby.

“I think I can say,” whispered Lily, “with all honesty…” She took a deep breath. “You, Daisy, are now officially mad.”

To her irritation, she saw Daisy go about her business, pretending not to hear her. Instead, Daisy sized up the nearest stem, cocking her head left and right. Then, as carefully as she could, she guided her teeth around the thickest one and pulled.

No give. Daisy let go. “Help me out here, will you?”

Lily’s gaze flicked from one to the other. This just didn’t seem real.

Nevertheless, she reached forwards with both hooves and pulled. There was a snap. Daisy stumbled into her, and they both fell over with a splash.

They saw the shadow turn. Beside it, the last resistant stem toppled and crashed before sinking into the waves.

In the silence, the steady drip of water falling off Lily’s locks. Then…

Uh oh, she thought.

Triumphant roars broke out. Both of them spun and leaped onto the field of pitcher plants, batting their hooves off leafy lids.

Daisy tucked the stem under one leg and flailed madly with the other, making up for graceless steps with sheer speed. 

“Well, that didn't take long to mess up!” shouted Lily.

“Tell me what it’s doing!” Daisy called.

Lily glanced back. A starry form shifted, lengthened…

“It’s a lawnmower!” she shrieked. “It’s just turned into a lawnmower!”

Far behind, concealed blades ripped and shredded the pitchers, throwing up a cloud of confetti. Only the tower of the handle loomed over it all.

“Good!” yelled Daisy. “Now look away!”

“Daisy, what –?”

“Look away! Then look back. Then tell me what happened!”

“What! Why!?”

“Trust me!”

Groaning, Lily threw her gaze up at the black sky. The ripping and shredding ground to a halt. She hastily looked back.

“It’s just hit the cobra lilies.”

“Exactly! Too tall to cut!”

“Daisy, what is going on!? We didn’t pass any cobra lilies!”

“Of course! Dreams work on child logic! Tell a child plants grow and they think they just pop up where you want them to!”

“That's what you used to think?”

“Yeah!”

Another ripping, shredding barrage broke through. Not daring to look ahead, Lily focused on the explosion of greenery behind her. Coming up fast, the starry buzz-saw slashed like a discus, closing the distance…

She looked away. A gloop and a flop. She looked back.

Sundews surrounded the buzz-saw. Lopped-off stumps went on as a trail behind it, but the mass of dews had smothered most of the blade, and the harder it spun, the more ooze spread and wrapped over the stars. Leaves curled around them.

“It’s working.” The faint giggle pushed through her frantic panting. “It’s working!”

“Is it?” A pause. “My word.”

“You knew it’d work!” said Lily accusingly, but the giggle was breaking out. Why she giggled, she had no idea. Perhaps, she suspected, she was just happy to have any time to giggle at all.

“They’re trying to help me because that’s how I see plants. I look at a plant, and everything just seems… better. Like the money and the other ponies and everything just go away for a bit.”

A thump. They both skidded to a halt, moving so fast they skated across the water briefly, rotating slowly, and ended up facing the other way.

Where the sundews had been, now a swarm of pitcher plants piled on top of each other. Occasionally the bulbous tip or dew-topped stalk of a sundew poked through, but the shadow was lost to the scrum. Even the frantic buzzing from inside died away.

“Is it over?” said Lily. “Or is this the bit where it bursts out and scares the life out of me?”

Daisy straightened her leg and picked up the stem in her mouth. While Lily hung there waiting for conventions to spring a trap, the sight of her friend swinging the stem experimentally made her brow burn.

“Daisy?” she said.

With her mouth full, Daisy only managed a monosyllabic grunt, which Lily interpreted as: “Yes?”

She just knew that shadow was gonna burst out at any moment…

“Look,” Lily said, keeping her gaze on the scrum. “I just wanted to say Roseluck and Goldengrape wanted to be here too. If this doesn’t work, um, I thought you should know that much.”

“Goldengrape?” Or at least, Daisy mumbled something that sounded like it.

“Yeah.”

After Daisy didn’t say anything for a while and the shadow kept delaying an escape she knew, just knew, was coming, Lily went on.

“Only…” Lily squirmed. How do other ponies give these speeches so easily? “I upset you before, about the party, and, I, uh, I just want you to know as well – look, I’m sorry about all that stuff I said. I didn’t mean it. Much. Well, I did, but that’s why I’m sorry now. Really, truly, I-can’t-believe-it-has-to-end-like-this sorry.”

The tip of the stem lowered. When Lily looked, Daisy had slackened her jaw.

Oh dear. Now I’ve gone and upset her! Way to go Lily! Quick, say something positive! “I’d like to have given you a chance to – I mean, next time, we could pick something you like doing – me and Roseluck and you, just like old times – and we’d enjoy it, and um… We’ll make it up to you. I swear. For what I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But I’ll make it better. Or would if I could. Um, any requests? Just say something. Anything. Please! I'll DO it!”

Daisy seemed to be staring over her left ear. Just in case, Lily looked behind. Nothing. So a faraway look, then…

Were her eyes gleaming?

A hiss: they both turned back to the scrum in time to see the smoke pouring out.

Out of every crevice, out of every gap in the leaves, out of the bottom and the middle and the top, the smoke hissed and poured and billowed. The last wisps joined the condensing form of the shadow far above. Amid the stars, the living piece of the night growled with impatience.

Lily didn’t scream. She was already suffocating under the terror. Her lungs were petrified. Her legs couldn’t move.

It dived.

She felt Daisy grab her and throw her into a stumble, and the shock ran down her and she galloped, galloped as she’d never galloped before, gaze jumping from spot to spot, to stems, to mist, to ripples up ahead, to anything that might give her eyes an escape and let the body come too –

And there, at last, she saw it.

Everyone knew at least one carnivorous plant. Some knew the pitcher plant, some the sundew, and a rare few even knew about the cobra lily. Nevertheless, without exception, the one that snapped its jaws around the mind and refused to let go, the one with all the teeth, the one that didn’t just wait but actually moved like lightning to get a meal and strike terror into the idea of being as small as an insect… was there.

Lurking level with the water. Open and waiting. Bristling with fangs.

The thing was to their immediate right. If she hadn’t glanced about, they’d have run right past it.

Thank goodness, she thought, that I'm a coward.

“Daisy!” she yelled. “This way!”

Promptly, she threw herself towards the fangs and relief washed through her; Daisy’s splashing soon followed hers. Closing in, the shadow’s angry roar hurt its own disembodied throat and became a wailing screech.

Lily leaped over and spun around. Daisy landed right beside her.

Swooping down on them, the shadow swelled with angry red stars, lengthening, pointing to an arrowhead tip.

Daisy’s stick-like stem lashed out.

Hit the jaws.

Which snapped.

Lily squeaked while the broken stem flew over her ears. One moment, the world was full of arrowhead shadow; the next, it was full of green flytrap jaws, tight shut and tightening still. Not a gap showed. Even the line was no thicker than a hair’s width.

A tip of snipped-off shadow plopped into the water at their hooves.

From under the surface, slimy green stems curled and wrapped like a mass of delighted snakes. Green teeth peered down at them from all over. Sheer terrified memory pushed Lily closer to Daisy.

Who let out a gasp she must have been holding back for a lifetime. Patiently, Lily watched her sag, unsure if she ought to pat her or let her get on with it.

“It’s over, right?” Lily breathed. Inside, the echoes of the wailing screech died away.

For some reason, Daisy kept on gasping for air.

Wary, Lily stepped towards her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No.” Gasp… Gasp… Gasp…

Amid the curling stems, the flytrap bulged, and equally quickly thinned again. Liquids glooped inside.

“That’ll be the digestion, then,” Lily said with what she hoped was a carefree manner. “Good riddance.”

The time felt like hours, but she at least heard Daisy settle down to a few breaths and saw her straighten up again. “Lily…” she said, still somewhat breathless, “what you said before…”

“I mean it.” There was no hesitation.

To her surprise, she saw Daisy nod at this, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Up till now, she’d expected some guilt-twisting and “you-don’t-have-to-do-that” turning.

A small smile peeked out of Daisy’s face. “That sounds nice. Just like old times.”

“Exactly!”

Then just as she was getting used to happy Daisy, frowny Daisy popped up. “But it can’t be old times exactly. Too much has happened.”

“Aw, you think too much. Does it matter? So long as we all feel the better for it. I’m not mopé-ing over what I did. Erm, but I’m not hiding it either. I just don’t want it to be all we remember. I’m not letting it make our friendship go bad, and that’s all there is to it. Really. That’s all there is to it.”

Daisy mouthed the words to herself. Her eyes lit up.

Something slammed inside the flytrap. One side bulged. The stems collapsed as though bereft of energy, splashing all around. Tangles hunched out of the surface as botanical sea serpents. Slowly oozing deeper into the depths.

Lily groaned. “Why? Why do you have to be so full of guilt all the time!? Why can’t it just die!?”

“Let it out.”

Lily blinked and looked up. Across from her, she saw Daisy glower at the bulge as another slam pushed it further out.

“What?” Lily said.

“No more running.”

“What is this, a last stand?” Withering sarcasm withered. “You’re serious? You’re gonna fight that thing?”

“I didn’t say that. I only said no more running.”

Awe and wonder crowded Lily’s chest. “But that’s suicide.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daisy’s head turned down, her eyes closing for a moment. “We’re out of ideas.”

“This is a dream! Ideas turn up at random! Daisy, don’t do this!”

Slashing sounds tore at the inside of the flytrap’s mouth. Hastily, Lily stepped between it and Daisy.

“Everything’s going to be OK,” said Daisy softly. “Lily, do you trust me?”

“Get away from here, Daisy! What are you gonna do? Just let it catch you?”

When she looked back, she saw Daisy raise her head.

Daisy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you get it? We can’t fight it anymore. Remember? That Tantabus is not some invading monster; it’s a part of me. It's my guilt. Mine alone. I might as well hit my own brain.”

“I’ll volunteer! There's no way I'm leaving you behind! Daisy, this is madness!”

Hooves gripped her by the shoulders. For a moment, she was turned around and swore she saw Daisy glance at one shoulder in particular.

They met glares.

“I'm done being the coward,” said Lily, but Daisy's glare melted hers. “I have to be the hero this time. Please.”

Gently, Daisy's grip guided her to the side. When Lily made to jump back, the grip tightened.

“Please,” Lily croaked.

Saddened, Daisy shook her head. Then the glare returned and aimed at the struggling remnants of the flytrap.

“You're always doing,” said Daisy. “But you don't want to be a hero, Lily. I don't need one. I can't use one. I just want my friend. Trust me when I say this, please.”

A blade ripped through the flytrap’s side. Stars streaked out. The mass curved round, a sapient blanket curling down to aim at them.

Lily stepped forwards. Daisy held up a hoof.

Uncertain, glancing from one to the other, thoroughly soaked in swamp water and sweat, Lily stepped backwards again.

She saw Daisy shaking.

“Look on the bright side,” said Daisy. Tears welled up when she met Lily’s gaze. “At least you’ll be safe.”

Seconds before the shadow hit her, she shut her eyes tight.

“No!” Lily rushed forwards, gripped her by the shoulders, and stared.

Where Daisy’s heart would have been – visible right through her chest – the black mass of the shadow condensed into a dark, pulsing facsimile. Arteries and veins appeared as though poison seeped through them.

“Daisy! Daisy, wake up! Wake up!” She shook her all the harder. “I don’t care if this is a dream anyway! Wake up!”

Groaning with pain, Daisy winced and clutched her chest with both hooves. Suddenly weighed down, Lily tightened her hold to stop her falling forwards.

“Why did you do it!? I don’t get you, Daisy! Why!? We could’ve gotten away!”

She swore Daisy was shrinking, darkening, as she crouched lower. And in that moment, Lily found a new kind of fear. One that couldn’t run away or hide or scream or do anything, but a sheer, helpless collapse as the Lily here and now got a glimpse of a later Lily, a Lily living in a world where she didn’t understand and couldn’t do anything but twist in pain, without one pony there, one pony gone forever…

“NO!” Her voice cracked. Sheer terror blurred her vision.

Daisy stopped. Then she grew. Her darkening coat brightened again.

Strong forelimbs gripped Lily tightly. And for as long as they did, as long as something reached out to her, all fear drew away as though fleeing a warm fire. To her shock, both relief and comfort seeped through, so old and unfamiliar that she swore she had turned into a foal again. Back when fear had been everywhere, at every time, even in her dreams. Except for the times someone had held her tightly, and shielded her, and given her a glimpse of life without worry but with care.

Lily's returning embrace tried to give some back.

Daisy broke away. She stood up. And she smiled.

As though a threatening continent, imminently closing in, were now slowed and grinding away from her, Lily stepped back and stared.

She checked; the shadow heart was beating on.

“But… we lost.” She spoke like a child.

“No, we just didn’t win.” Daisy wiped her own eyes. “I’m not going to win. It’s guilt.”

“Guilt-based,” corrected Lily, desperate for anything to make sense no matter how trivial.

“I can’t beat guilt,” continued Daisy, still smiling and with wet smudges under each eye. “Frankly, I don’t want to. It’s a part of me. Always will be. But I figured out from what you said… well, there are two ways you can deal with it.”

“From what I said?” Lily searched the tearful face for any kind of clue.

“Yeah. I figured out you can control it. Make it serve you, instead of the other way around. Look at your shoulder.”

Frowning, Lily did so. It was pink. It was round where it transformed from torso to limb. Otherwise, there wasn’t much she could say about it.

“You hit it, and it left a mark there earlier. But you were so busy helping me you didn’t even think about what had happened. You did something. You tried to help me. And I know it was just a try, but trying is everything. I never really do that much except mopé-ing and hindering and pretending I should be better than you, but you do something to help, and you do it honestly. That’s why the mark didn’t take over. That’s how you control it. I just needed some time to figure that out.”

Suspicion narrowed Lily’s eyes. “You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

“No. This is a dream, after all, so it makes sense. Well, that or we’re going mad, in which case it makes sense too. Feel better?”

“No!”

Yet as she watched, Lily sighed with relief; the dark heart faded, stars winking out, and soon Daisy’s chest was what it had been before. Nothing, as far as she could tell, had changed.

“You’re not about to turn into a monster, are you?” Lily raised a leg to back off; Daisy gripped it and guided it gently down again.

“No, listen. The guilt is a part of me. I can’t run away from it, because it’s always there wherever I go. So… the way I see it… either you look inwards and brood over it and let it turn you dark, or you look outwards and let it inspire you to make something beautiful from it. Something meaningful. Something that makes your part of the world that much richer, or prettier, or calmer.”

As she spoke, the black mist faded away. Bright blue skies shone overhead, reflected over the waters that now soothed with gently lapping waves around them. Nearby, the plants bloomed with all the colours of the rainbow; pitchers, flytraps, and dewdrop stalks gave way to colourful buds opening wide under the sunlight.

A wind shook the petals free. Drifting pinks and yellows and greens and reds flurried and became a storm of hues.

Lily relaxed. Sappy speeches and eerily calm friends were shaky ground, but she knew where she stood with flowers. She even spun on the spot, head as far back as she could manage, taking the swirl and dance all around her as the meadow rang with the distant laughter of three foals.

Once more, her gaze landed on Daisy, who reached out with a hoof.

“Thanks for coming back for me, Lily,” she said. “We're not done yet, but I'm going to make it right. I promise.”

Lily paused in mid-reach, not entirely sure she knew what was going on. Her social limits were hopelessly left behind. But the point was: the scary bit seemed to be over. Definitely. It couldn’t survive under this much sugary sweetness.

She had a go at it. “Sweet dreams, Daisy?”

Daisy's heart shone through again, this time white with blue stars. And for the first time, Lily smiled.

They met hooves, and the petals slowly swept them up into the all-embracing sunlight. Lily laughed with joy for the first time in a long time, and gently closed her eyes.

Whatever else had happened, she had not died once in this dream. There were some achievements well worth a bit of sappiness.




> Grief and Joy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy moaned in the midst of darkness. She was aware of weight pressing into her back and sheer openness above her belly and face. Two of her legs had gone numb; where once they’d have spoken comfortably through her mind, now their sensations were utterly muffled.

Still with her eyes closed, she twitched a few muscles across her face. A vague desire to wake up met the sheer smothering urge to stay where she was.

Her name came to her from a distance. Over and over. Whispering softly.

For a while, she was content to lie and listen first to Roseluck, and then to Lily, saying her name. Such was the sheer gravity of sleepiness that she only heard their voices as echoes in a cave of pillows, coming from afar to pat the fluffy thoughts piled on her mind.

Daisy… Daisy… “Daisy!”

Groaning, she forced herself to open an eye. Then the other. It was like prising open a gummy oyster.

Someone was breathing on her mouth. Before the brown of the ceiling, the creamy blur resolved into Roseluck’s wide eyes.

The eyes vanished briefly. “She’s waking up!”

“Finally…” murmured Lily nearby.

Daisy felt no pressing need to get up. Of course Roseluck would be there. Roseluck was always there for her…

To her shock, she was gripped and half-lifted off the bed between strong forelimbs. She woke up.

“Rose?” she croaked, and then coughed to clear a throat weak from underuse.

From the shuffling weight pressing against her chest, she heard: “I thought you were gonna end up like Mister Greenhooves! I was so terrified! I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

Daisy didn’t or couldn’t make out the rest; Roseluck’s voice quickly flailed about and broke into incoherent babbling. 

Two more forelimbs gripped hers, and Daisy jolted at the sight of Lily squeezing harder over the two of them as though afraid to let go. The mare had even clenched her own eyelids shut to hold herself back.

What had finally woken up inside Daisy now collapsed. It was one thing to wander a swamp and think about them, but to see both of them together, here and now, like they’d never left the meadow, sapped her of the little energy she had. Her insides felt rotten and limp.

Coughing again, she managed to say, “I’m sorry, girls.”

Gently, they eased her back onto the bed – Roseluck more than Lily – and stepped a few inches away to give her some room.

“It’s OK,” she continued from the pillow to their concerned stares. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh, Daisy!” wailed Roseluck. “Why did you leave us alone?”

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. Do, don’t think. “Lily already told you what happened, didn’t she?”

Lily nodded. “The short story version, at least.”

To Roseluck, Daisy added, “I didn’t want to scare you. I swear! I just needed – I just wanted time to myself.”

“Time to think?” said Roseluck.

“I… I didn’t think.”

“But how could you be so selfish as to –”

Lily reached across and patted the shaking Roseluck by the shoulder. “Not right now, Rose? Trust me, she’s been through enough.” She braved a smile. “It’s good to have you back, Daisy.”

“Yeah,” croaked Roseluck, wiping her eyes. “It is. Please don’t scare me like that again! I really thought you were gonna… I thought you were…”

It was as if she’d never left. 

She’d never left…?

The shop!

Daisy made to get up, and to her horror nothing moved. Her intentions rose like ghosts out of a body suddenly as dead and unmoving as a slab.

Or paralyzed with fear: her heartbeat flurried inside her like a trapped canary in a box. She felt prickles of sweat crawling up her back.

“What’s going on!?” she said. Neither forelimb moved, force them though she might. “I can’t get up!”

At once, Roseluck rushed to her side and gripped the back of her head – Daisy felt the burrowing hoof under her curls – and her chest, easing her upright.

“You’ve been asleep for days,” said Lily. “What, did you think your muscles were gonna take it lying down?”

“You’re just a little weak,” said Roseluck gently. “We’ll get you back on your hooves in no time.”

“But I’ve got to get up by myself!” Daisy failed utterly to struggle out of the grip levering her up. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I’ve changed, I – I swear I’ve changed. I can’t just wake up and find I can’t do anything!”

“Daisy…” Lily reached across, edging Roseluck out of the way and replacing her.

“I’m not hiding anymore! I swear! I’ll go out and… and… and I’ll do something to get the business back again! I have to!”

“You will.” With glass-handling care, Lily lowered Daisy back onto the pillow. “Rest first, then do.”

“But I can’t rest now.”

“You’ll have to. Sorry. It’s just sense, right? Let’s be sensible about this, right?”

Daisy stared at her, a tricky thing to do lying down without looking like she was squinting up her own nose. Cursing, she forced her neck to come to life, raising her head and turning it to them. Even Roseluck goggled at Lily.

“‘Let’s be sensible’? You,” said Roseluck, “have no idea how weird it is hearing that from your mouth.”

Lily grimaced. “You have no idea how weird it is saying it.”

A door slammed downstairs. Hoofsteps thumped. They rose up the stairs in a torrent of noise until the bedroom door swung back.

All three of them stared. First through was –

“Doc,” Roseluck muttered.

Such was the thorn in her voice that Daisy almost wished she could draw away from it.

Doc gave them one uncertain look, and then he turned away, making room for a horn, a serious scowl, four striding hooves, and a royal pair of wings.

“I came here as fast as I could,” said Princess Twilight.

After no one endeavoured to explain anything, Daisy broke the silence. “What’s going on exactly?”

“Over to you, Rose!” said Lily with indecent haste, backing away.

Yet Rose fell prey to her own stunned silence, and merely shuffled aside as Twilight made for the bed and the third pony rushed into the room.

“Daisy…” said Twilight, commendably doctor-like.

“Daisy!” The third pony shoved her aside. “You’re awake!”

It was Goldengrape. Even being unable to move, Daisy felt the impulse to freeze ooze down her limbs, scouring the sides. Unremarkable as he looked next to Princess Twilight or Doc with his tie and collar, in that instant he was a sudden storm blowing across days and weeks of her mind, as though his absence had been just a chance to swing round and build up momentum. Cold winds blew away everything but naked shame.

Lowering her gaze, she opened her mouth. “Goldengrape, I’m so sor–”

A grunt; she’d been snatched up and squeezed against his chest, caught in an earthquake of blubbering, laughing, emotion-shaking attempts at tears and joy and words too loud to make out. Her forelimbs chafed. She tried and failed to draw back, despite the fact that this was like brushing off an earth tremor.

Besides, everyone was watching. Or not watching, but in ways that made it very clear they’d like the show to stop, please.

“G-Goldengrape?” she whispered.

Too soon, he let her go. She flopped back onto the bed.

“Daisy!” he said through sheer horror.

Fortunately, Lily stepped in at this juncture. “It’s all right. She’s not hurt. She’s just… tired, that’s all. Yeah, tired.”

Goldengrape wiped his cheeks, which still gleamed, and braved a smile. “Sleeps for three days, then wakes up tired. That’s Daisy, all right. Once she gets a hold of something, she never lets go.”

Of course, he tried a begging grin. He always did.

Completely ignorant of the blushes and coughs breaking out behind him, Goldengrape – her Goldengrape, who’d come with a Princess in tow – sidled along the bed and gripped her hoof between two of his own.

“This is just like Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

The coughs took on a more urgent tone.

“Oh, Goldengrape,” said Daisy.

“Oh, Daisy,” said Goldengrape.

After a soulful second, he added, “My other suit of armour is also shining.”

“Oh, Goldengrape!” If she hadn’t been too weak, she would’ve hit him with the pillow.

“I am sorry I broke my promise, though,” he said, settling down to an infuriating calm.

Spluttering, Daisy tried and failed to rise off the bed. The nerve of him! “I’m sorry I made you take that promise! I was a fool –”

“And I was a clot. See, my darling? We’re perfectly matched.”

“Don’t you give me that claptrap! It was stupid and cruel, and I wish I’d never done it.”

“See? I breathe life into her already! A moment ago, she could barely rise, and now she’s rearing to get up. How about a kiss to break the spell?”

“You, you, you utter, simple-minded foal!” Through Daisy’s prickling eyes, the room began to blur and moisten. “No matter how much you change, you always stay the same!”

Not allowing herself to see his own eyes watering right next to her too, she turned to the purple blob of Twilight, and to the moving brown blob of Doc in the corner. Now that she was paying attention, she realized they’d been talking in the background the whole time.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” said Twilight. “This is obviously a magical malady. If I’d gotten here sooner, I could have dealt with this in a matter of minutes.”

Hooves scuffed the floorboards as the brown blob shifted closer. “Oh yes, Your Majesty?” said Doc. “And since when have princesses been that easily approached, once you rule out the throngs of well-wishers, supplicants, and general celebrity-hunting paparazzi? Do you know how hard it was to persuade the Royal Guard to at least pass on my message? Extremely!”

Twilight growled. “It wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d told them three days ago! Or once it was clear this was no ordinary sleeping sickness. Look –”

“Ah. Therein lies the proverbial rub, not to mention the backscratcher and the full dandy brush treatment. Three days ago, this was just another illness for the attentions of us lesser mortals who have to settle for non-magical medicine.”

A few awkward coughs from the others met these words. It sounded like Roseluck, Lily, and Goldengrape were pretending not to be there, and not e.g. hearing voices loud enough to echo in the narrow space.

“Look, it’s still me.” Twilight’s voice took on a pleading tone. “I’m still the same Twilight Sparkle. If you ever need my services, I’m more than happy to –”

“Oh yes?” said Doc, pouring on enough withering scorn to leave a lawn barren and grey. “I’m sure the Royal Guard would have been quicker than whips if we’d said, ‘Excuse me, could you send the princess down to do a Nurse Redheart, much obliged to you, my good chap’?”

“But –”

“And we’re just to assume ‘Princess’ is only an honorific you slap on your door like a PhD –”

“DOC!” Roseluck’s voice snapped.

Both blobs jumped at this.

Someone’s hoof wiped across Daisy’s face. When she opened her eyes again, her eyes felt less damp and both Twilight and Doc were revealed in full detail, both looking down, both scuffing their hooves under Roseluck’s scowl. Although she couldn’t exactly see Roseluck’s full expression from the bed, Daisy almost felt the air shimmer under its heat.

Lily wiped her eyes again. Blinking furiously, Daisy tried to bat her off. Not one muscle twitched in her leg.

“I apologize,” said Doc.

“Anyway, I’m here now,” said Twilight.

“I suppose I was a tad quick to judge…”

“Sometimes, it’s hard to take in how much has changed…”

“I’m sure you meant well, of course.”

“I can understand your frustration –”

“Ahem,” said Roseluck, more gently this time.

“Oh. Right.” Twilight hurried over to take Goldengrape’s place while he graciously stepped back. Up ahead, Daisy saw Doc step towards Roseluck’s scowl as a lion-tamer might approach a less-than-cooperative pride.

He groaned, looked about for something to say, scratched the back of his neck, coughed pompously, tried a smile, quickly killed it, and finally said, “My apologies, Rose, to you in particu–”

“Hm!” Roseluck snorted and averted her gaze. It was impossible to see her expression from the bed, but Daisy recognized the “hm”.

She wanted very much to know what on earth Doc had done to get her to that stage. Last time Daisy ever heard that “hm”, she’d accidentally destroyed one of Roseluck’s would-be prize-winning rhododendrons.

Twilight moved next to the foot of the bed with a clatter of hooves, and instantly she set to work. Magic sparkled along her horn. Lights danced over Daisy’s head – she shut her eyes at once – while tingles tickled her ears, sparks zipped through her mind like apologetic mail ponies, images briefly flashed up: the starry blackness, endless swamp, green water sloshing, foals laughing…

There was, back in the real world, a clearing of the throat from Doc. It could have meant anything.

All spells stopped. Daisy opened her eyes as the images faded away, revealing Goldengrape leaning over her, Lily about to reach across, Roseluck pawing the floorboards in apprehension, Doc fiddling with his suitcase and looking far more interested in it than seemed genuine, and Twilight shutting off the last glittering lights on her horn.

“Diagnosis?” said Goldengrape, looking wary.

A book popped into existence before Twilight. Someone reading a book, even a hovering one, wasn’t ordinarily the centre of so much attention, but now the air itself distorted and compressed under the sheer gravity of their impatient patience.

The book popped back out of existence.

“It’s not a Tantabus,” said Twilight finally.

Roseluck squeaked in shock. “But I saw –”

“Something like a Tantabus. A basal form.”

“I’m sorry?” said Daisy.

Twilight licked her lips in delight for the delicious lecture she was privileged to give. “Luna didn’t create the Tantabus from nothing. Its basal form was a Baku, an eastern dream spirit. I remember her explaining its modifications to me after the incident.”

“Well,” said Doc, dropping his suitcase and looking about as though struggling for cues. “It is… fascinating, I suppose.”

“Exactly.”

“But Luna absorbed it,” insisted Lily.

“Yes. Although this recent evidence –” Twilight nodded to Daisy on the bed “– proves that something did cross over. When Luna organized the shared dream to hunt down the Tantabus, she connected to every mind in Ponyville, but she herself remained the base from which to build that shared dream. Its foundations.”

“What does that mean?” Daisy grimaced at the weakness in her voice. If only she could sit up…

Twilight’s eyes lit up with the sunrise of discovery. “Of course! If Luna was the foundation, then so was the environment where the Tantabus came from. Everyone’s dream became part of its environment. Perhaps it was a necessary modification of Luna’s to make sure she had a measure of control over the Tantabus, or to ensure she and it were still compatible when she absorbed its evolved forms –”

“But she absorbed it,” insisted Lily. “Anyway, how did Greenhooves and Daisy get infected?”

“And me,” said Roseluck.

“Wait,” said Daisy, alarm shooting through her spine. “When were you –?”

“Possibly you,” corrected Doc. “That might have just been an actual dream.”

Roseluck rounded on him. “How dare you suggest –”

“Allow me to explain, I meant no insult by it!” Doc waved her down hastily. “Roseluck! I just meant you haven’t shown the same symptoms as the other two. It could have been a coincidence.”

Looking thoughtfully at Roseluck, Twilight hummed and tapped her chin.

“Soooooooo?” said Lily, with the air of one trying to tiptoe over a minefield.

“So,” said Twilight, “it wasn’t the Tantabus itself that spread. When the original Tantabus was corrupted beyond Luna’s control, back then we assumed it was the Tantabus which had changed. But supposing it was the original dream environment which had changed instead? Supposing it had responded to Luna’s changing emotions? That would have influenced the Tantabus’ behaviour. Then when she modified the other Ponyville dreams to accommodate her own…”

“Wait a minute,” said Daisy. “Are you saying I was… dreaming like Luna the whole time?”

“Well,” said Goldengrape, grinning. “I’ve always said you were my dream princess, eh?”

Even Twilight blushed and looked away at that. Everyone else suddenly pretended they didn’t know this stallion, and did someone speak, ‘cause I didn’t hear anything, my the ceiling is interesting all of a sudden…

“Goldengrape,” Daisy groaned.

“Aheh, just trying to lighten the mood,” he said.

“I’d say that’s a definite ‘yes’,” said Doc. “Interesting. I wonder if that means you could’ve visited other dreams the whole time –”

“So how did Greenhooves and Daisy get infected?” Lily flapped her forelimbs in sheer exasperation.

“Lily, please,” said Roseluck.

“Everyone keeps ignoring my questions!”

“I don’t know,” said Twilight.

“An increasingly depressive mood…” murmured Doc.

“Something on your mind, Doc?”

“I remember that book Roseluck found. Baku victims develop an increasingly depressive mood. And Luna wasn’t exactly Princess Perky at the time, now was she?”

“Emotions influencing dreams. I suppose it’s plausible…”

“Ah!” Lily waved a hoof for attention. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I was right the whole time! It’s –”

“An emotion eater,” said Twilight. “Of course!”

Lily’s forelimb flopped. “Hey, I was gonna say that.”

“You mean it feeds on depression too?” said Doc.

“I had one smart thing to say, one smart thing, and I was totally gonna say that,” muttered Lily. “Till you interrupted…”

Twilight nodded. “That’s how it consumes dreams. Dream-eating is actually quite rare in the supernatural world, but emotion-eating is common. If something evolved from one to the other… And dreams and emotions are closely tied together. If a spirit was designed to consume one, it could learn to consume the other. After encouraging the emotions to grow first. But it’d take time. All those complications and chaos it’d have to navigate to invade a dream, not to mention Luna’s constant watch…”

It was Daisy who looked away. Looked at Roseluck, looked at Lily – both watching Twilight talk it out – at Goldengrape who merely tried to keep up with the conversation, at the sparse books and wardrobe, at the ceiling and its patches of damp where the rain had invaded.

She’d let it in. She’d wallowed in her own self-pity, and she’d let it in.

How could she have missed the signs? How stupid was she to believe this was normal, even right? Now that she saw her last few days so clearly, how had it not been obvious from the start something was seriously wrong with her sleeping?

But she’d wanted it. She’d wanted it so bad that she’d convinced herself it wasn’t so bad after all. Where had that attitude gotten them?

Inside her chest, something pulsed. Like an alien being, roosting deep inside, had shifted slightly.

She remembered the thing entering her chest. Hot irons rushing through to her heart while Lily had stood there and screamed…

No. Stop pitying yourself!

“What can we do about it?” she said at once. The discussion stopped. Still, she didn’t look down. “We have to stop this. Isn’t there something I can do?”

“Thattagirl,” whispered Lily nearby.

And still, Daisy refused to look at anyone. Concentrating, the weight on her chest became more alien, more unnerving.

“Don’t worry!” said Twilight from the foot of the bed. “I’ll inform Luna immediately. Once she’s aware of what’s been happening, I’m sure she’ll check and purge all remaining traces of the Baku, and its environment. You’re going to be fine.”

“Anything I can do?” The weight on Daisy’s chest shifted again.

Doc cleared his throat. “I’d recommend resting until your strength is restored. After that… Uh…”

“We’ll see what there is to do,” said Lily at once.

In her mind, Daisy thanked her over and over. The thought of going through all that, only to lie here doing nothing: it couldn’t be how it ended. It shouldn’t be. She’d promised she’d do more. She’d outright sworn on it.

There had to be some way she could contribute –

“Wait!” She looked down, seeing them jump. “Twilight! There’s something else. There were plants in my dreams. Carnivorous ones. They attacked Lily, and then they tried to stop the Tanta– I mean, the Baku, or whatever. Does that mean anything?”

Twilight glanced at Lily, who shuffled her hooves uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” said Roseluck, nodding. “Something like that happened in mine too. One of my dream roses… er, ate the Baku thing.”

Despite Roseluck’s rosy blush, Twilight returned the nod in a business-like manner. “Don’t worry about that, girls. Luna told me about those. They’re what happens if a mind detects an intrusion. A built-in mechanism.”

“You mean there are guards in pony brains?” said Lily, shivering. “Ew.”

“Yes, in a way. Luna always has to make sure she’s welcome before she can just dive in among them, otherwise they’ll treat her as a threat and attack.”

“But if feelings shape dreams, then when the dreams attack, that means the feelings –”

In the pause that followed, realization struck. Daisy took a deep breath.

“Oh,” Lily said.

Daisy had the grace to look away again. There was so much damp on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It was only a temporary thing, I swear.”

“Right,” said Lily shakily. “Er. Right.”

A squeak: they turned back to see all eyes on Roseluck.

After a while, she shook her head, eyes closed, and waved them off. “It’s nothing. Forget about it.”

“But Rose –” said Doc, reaching for her.

“I said forget about it!” She batted him off and turned her back on his slump. “Please,” she added.

Put-out like a child suddenly denied sweets, Doc gave Daisy a pleading look. “What about you?” he said.

Daisy would never fancy herself as a fortune-teller, but in an instant, she heard what he was going to say before he even moved his lips to say it. It had been tugging at the back of her mind for so long, she’d barely noticed it. Now it no longer had any cover to hide behind.

“I’ll be fine!” she said in a rush. “We’ll be fine.”

“By ‘we’, you mean the busi– OW!” Doc rubbed his hoof while Roseluck massaged her own leg.

Daisy almost laughed. Funny, in a way. To think: he’d been so narrow as to assume “we” meant just the business.

“And before you say anything,” she continued, seeing Twilight open her mouth, “I don’t need or want any help, or any pity! I can do this on my own. It’s OK. Really.”

Just as she’d suspected: Lily and Roseluck exchanged sidelong glances.

Fortunately, Twilight backed off a couple of steps, floorboards creaking underfoot. “Then I’ll respect your wishes. Of course I will. You should be safe so long as you’re awake, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

The weight shifted again in Daisy. She wished she could put a hoof to it, for all the good that’d do. Not lie here, just accepting it.

“I’ll contact Princess Luna. Once she’s aware of the situation, she can do whatever’s necessary to clean up the remaining traces.” Twilight nodded to the others. In turn, Goldengrape, Lily, and a tight-lipped Roseluck nodded to her.

Thankful for her tact, Daisy settled into a seeping relief to watch Twilight back out and slip out of the room.

The door shut. Then…

“I’ll help,” said Roseluck at once. “Whatever’s on your mind.”

“Me too.” Lily patted Daisy on the shoulder.

All right, thought Daisy, now for the hard part. Don’t apologize, don’t feel sorry, don’t start that self-pitying stuff again.

“Erm,” she said, forcing herself to look each girl in the eye, “actually, I wanted to talk to Goldengrape. For a while. Just a little bit.”

“Of course,” said Lily, while beside her Roseluck grew taller and her eyes grew wider at the realization spreading like weeds over her. “Feel free, he’s right there, but whatever happens, I want you to know that you can rely on me. On us, sorry. Me and Roseluck.”

Grimacing, Daisy tapped her teeth together. The apology she didn’t want to say instead pulled at her face, trying to draw her away.

Lily’s gasp did it.

“It’s nothing personal –” said Daisy.

“Nothing personal!?” spluttered Lily. “I’ve been running around in your head, and suddenly you don’t want this to be nothing personal?”

“But we’re your friends,” said Roseluck. “We want to help.”

No more crying, no more crying, no more sadness or feeling down, no. More. Crying. Daisy fought against the squirm amid her own insides.

“This is different,” she said to the ceiling.

Someone shuffled over, and then she heard Doc say gently, “Roseluck, ma chérie. Let her be, just for the moment. After what she’s been through, I expect it’s a triumph to get her to open up at all.”

“I’ll explain later.” Daisy had no actual plans either way, but anything was better than hearing the hurt in their voices again.

“See? She’ll let you know when she’s ready. Indulge a special friend, will you not?”

“Doc?” Even Roseluck had lost the edge in her voice when she spoke to him.

“I believe I’ve heard of this phenomenon before. It’s said a pony can sometimes be more forthcoming towards a complete stranger than towards their nearest and dearest. A sort of stranger effect, I call it.”

“Excuse me, I’m her coltfriend!” said Goldengrape.

“A hair’s breadth of difference, I assure you. A moment of discretion, may I preach?”

Daisy risked a peek; both girls struggled to keep words behind their lips, Lily nearly blowing up her cheeks under the bile. A gentle tap from Doc on the leg, and Roseluck swallowed, nodded, and elbowed Lily to follow her. On her way out, Lily eased the door shut, and in that shrinking gap she caught Daisy by the eyes.

It was a lifetime between two seconds. Lifetime enough for the angry edges to smooth over, tremble with worry or pain, to wonder what was really happening.

The door closed so gently that no noise echoed. Yet it filled the following silence like the tolling of a bell.




> Her Knight in Golden Armour
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy’s tongue turned coward. She found nothing she’d dare to say, even once the muffled steps stopped downstairs.

“Well,” said Goldengrape, looming closer, “that was a fine how-do-you-do to two friends who just saved your life.”

“I wanted to talk about them,” said Daisy. She locked eyes with his, and now he was this close, she smelled the heavy damp of his concern, as though he’d pressed wet fur against her nose.

Goldengrape’s frown flipped round. “Can’t tell them to their faces?”

Regret crept up on Daisy, however much she knew about the weight on her chest, probably still probing for a way back. She’d been prepared to go this far, without the other two, with someone like Goldengrape – she could confess to a murder, and he’d still take it in stride – only now she was actually here, she realized she’d been waiting for a cue she’d assured herself was there. Yet there was nothing. No words. Nowhere to start. Nothing but the realization that she could muck this up so, so easily…

Then like magic, Goldengrape changed her world.

“You know, you’re a lot closer to those two than you think,” he said, barely managing to suppress a chuckle under his comfortably sitting voice. “And you’re about as sensitive as a daisy in a stampede. Put them together, and whaddaya got?”

“I didn’t mean to offend them,” said Daisy, grasping at the only thing she was sure of right now. “I just –”

“Didn’t want to hurt them. I could tell. You were twisting yourself in knots trying not to hurt them.”

“You make me sound like a saint.”

“Well, aren’t you?” He barked a laugh. “You don’t think I go for the femme fatale type, do you?”

“Goldengrape!” she snapped. If not for the numbness keeping her down, she’d have covered up her mouth at that slip. “Please. I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I. You’re enough of a martyr to be a saint.”

Hoping he was at least listening and not merely thinking up his next joke, Daisy said, “I don’t know what to do. I thought I’d come back here, alive and kicking, and I’d know what to do. But here I am, and I don’t have a clue. And anyway, I can’t while I’m –” she looked down at her unresponsive legs “– like this.”

“It’ll wear off.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed them away –”

“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy.” Goldengrape shook his head and leaned closer, and Daisy felt herself threaten to slide as his weight sagged beside her and her head tipped towards the calm blue of eyes like skies, skies of summer lounging and the sweet smell of blossoms in the wind.

Now her heart beat to his. “No. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

Goldengrape hummed innocently.

“No more feeling sorry for myself.” Oh, if only she could sit bolt upright! “No more misery. I’ve been guilting myself over and over for too long. No wonder I was prime Baku food!”

“My word, is that a joke? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m serious! It’s time I stopped trying to feel helpless and weak. I’ve got to do something for them. I’ve got to set things right. They’ve always been my best –”

One hoof delicately touched the tip of Daisy’s chin and raised her eyes to his more squarely, more directly. For once, Goldengrape spoke without the joke peeking out from behind his tones and giggling.

“This is about your flower shop, isn’t it? Daisy, it’s OK. Suppose the worst happened and you, Lily, and Roseluck went out of business tomorrow.”

“It’ll be all my fault –” Daisy clamped her lips shut. The words came out without so much as a passing glance at thought. “We could rebuild. We could sell from the street, like in the old days. I’d find a way to raise the money again. Perhaps we’d get lucky the second time, or I could figure a way to earn more money, or we could… I don’t know, but I’d think of something.”

“Supposing you didn’t?”

“I’d have to. If it all came to nothing, I could never look Lily and Roseluck in the face and call myself a friend.”

To her shock, he burst out laughing, shaking so much that his hoof made her jaw drop and slam back up with each rumble.

“Oh me!” he said. “And they say I’m the funny one! What are you, their financial consultant?”

Daisy tried to say too many things at once; all that came out was a confused groan.

“They’d be your friends come rain or shine,” insisted Goldengrape, so emphatic with each word that Daisy felt each tremor through his hoof still on her chin. “You can’t tie that to a business, boom or bust.”

Squirming guilt found new food inside her chest. “I know it sounds silly, but still…”

“Look at me, Daisy.” He hesitated, pouting. “Well, not that you have too much choice there, but anyway.”

“Oh, Celestia, no.”

“I’m gonna say it.”

Daisy wished she could struggle out of his hoof’s hold. “Don’t say it.”

“You’ve left me no choice but to say it.”

“Goldengrape, I will strangle you if you say it.”

“What with?” He winked. “Daisy, you are my princess.”

“Oh, Celestia, no.”

“You were my princess the day I laid eyes on you, and you will be my princess even if you go so blind you have to squint like this.”

“Don’t do the squint, please.”

“Or have your teeth sticking out, lik dis.”

“Stoooop, pleeease.”

“Or haf a hunff bag.” His spine arched horribly. “Lik dis.”

“If I die of embarrassment, I’m going to haunt you for life.”

Mercifully, Goldengrapes relaxed his grotesquery. “Not if I die of laughter first. I don’t love you for your looks or your business skills. I love you.”

Daisy’s jaw burned red hot with the iron effort of not melting into tears. “You cruel monster, you.”

“And so do Lily and Roseluck. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to follow your promise to the letter, Your Highness, if I didn’t love you.”

“That was wrong of me.” Daisy tried swallowing the lump threatening to surge up her throat.

“Then it was wrong of me to follow it. See? We have so much in common!”

It couldn’t be helped; the laugh got out before she could disguise it as a sob. With unerring instinct, he rested the weight of his thick brow against hers, and they closed their eyes while shaking not to do anything so reckless again as to laugh or sob. By the time it occurred to her to check the weight on her chest, she barely felt it.

All too soon, he drew back, and her cheek felt him move away from the bedside.

“If this gets any more sentimental,” she said, “I’m gonna have to step outside.” Coughing herself back to reality, she added, “But I am serious. It’s time I stopped trying to take so much responsibility and started giving Lily and Roseluck the reins.”

“Add in Twilight, and that’ll be four princesses reigning in Ponyville.”

Daisy groaned. “You know, even by your standards, that was bad.”

“Punny is as punny does, mon cherry.”

“You’re not Doc. And French doesn’t work on me.”

“Oh, don’t be so mopé.” He straightened up. “Daisy, I do have something to say, actually.”

“Among the million other things?” She threw him a chuckle of a smile.

“I want you to spend more time out of the shop. With me. Relaxing and partying and dancing might be just what you need to loosen up, don’t you think? Go to more events, if you just stop running the shop all the time.”

Daisy tried to accept this with the smile still in place. The thought of being anywhere near him when he got too carried away with a punchline…

“What?” he said, looking at her expression, and she realized too late she’d let a few muscles sneak out of place.

“Don’t go nuts, OK?” she said.

“That’s kind of the point of parties.”

“Goldengrape. Just keep your jokes in check.”

“No pain, no gain.”

Daisy chewed her lip in thought. Supposing she was here for a few days at most, then only a handful of events were laid out before her.

“I could come with you to Junebug’s birthday bash,” she ventured. “That’s not too far away.”

Goldengrape hopped, skipped, and jumped about the room, whinnying all the way. “Abso-hallel-ootly!” Wincing, she saw him thump back to her side. “Hey,” he said, showing off his teeth. “Maybe I can make you jealous by dancing with her?”

“Hm, maybe I can make you jealous by dancing with her?”

Innocence gaped back at her before Goldengrape’s senses caught up with her. Oh, it was a sight to behold.

Her gentle giggle met his surprised chortle. Both sounds left them brighter, almost higher, as though the joy had placed them on a cosy plateau overlooking the world, and they had a moment to contemplate the fields of possibility.

Goldengrape looked about, himself looking a tad lost, yet he rallied magnificently. “Well,” he said, “I believe my work here is done.” A quick kneel. “Fare-thee-well, Princess Daisy.”

“Most gracious, um… Sir Goldie?”

“Practice makes perfect, or in this case makes perfect even more so.” He made to leave, getting as far as gripping the door’s edge to swing it back, before pausing to check sidelong with ear cocked. “Something on your mind, Your Highness?”

Daisy briefly felt the weight on her chest. How soon Luna might remove it, she had no idea. Surely not too long, given what had almost happened, what she’d almost let happen.

She tried to shrug, and to her surprise felt a slight tug along her shoulder blades.

“Want me to send up Lily and Roseluck?” he said.

Daisy sighed. “Not yet. Just give me some time. Anyway, they’ll come see me soon enough.”

“I could ask them to leave you alone for a bit?”

She shook her head; only by inches, but she managed it nonetheless.

“I don’t suppose you could come over sometime later?” she said. “Maybe to talk, or maybe we could read a book together? While I’m recovering?”

“Sure! I’ve got lots of books!”

“Just no joke books.”

“I’m sure I can find a book!”

“And no comedies.”

“I’ll… ask Twilight.”

“Or romances.”

“Sheesh, give me a couple of weeks to order.” He winked at her, and then saluted and slipped out. “There is a flower within my heart, Daisy, Daisy…”

While she heard the hoofsteps of her friends down below, she heard the hoofsteps of her knight descending to earth, singing at the top of his voice a poem he’d promised he’d written for her eyes only. He always looked for loopholes.

Inevitably, she paid attention to the window. Lights dimmed outside. Vague voices came up from below. She wondered if Lily and Roseluck were among them.

After what felt like hours, the silence became unnerving. Even the weight on her chest seemed to have disappeared. Yet she didn’t dare sleep. She lay in the darkness, staring at something beyond the ceiling and its all-too-mortal damp. Whether she felt it or not, a weight would be there somewhere.

She was trying to get used to it.




> Unfinished Business
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“But here’s the thing, Princess –” began Lily.

“Please, call me Twilight. I’m no different now than I was before.”

“All right. But here’s the thing, Twilight. If a meteor is more likely to hit us tomorrow than, well, any other time ever – and you agree with me on that, right? – then why aren’t we casting anti-meteor spells?”

“I think you misunderstand the nature of proba… bility… Hold on, what anti-meteor spells? I’ve never heard of any –”

“Wai-yai-yai-yait!” Lily, previously poised to sip her drink, slammed it down on the table. “Call yourself the bearer of magic and you don’t know any anti-meteor spells!? Are you kidding me? What if we got blown up tonight? That should be number one on your list of priorities, Princess!”

“I said please call me Twilight. And the reasoning is extremely fallacious. No, listen…”

At the table near to theirs, Roseluck sat and let the argument wash over her. She’d never heard Lily enjoying herself so much, and by the sounds of it, Twilight had found a worthy if slightly hysterical successor to the throne of Doc. She wouldn’t go so far as to say, “successor to the throne of reason”. Lily’s claim to that particular throne was kept separate by a long list of ponies next in line, and possibly by restraining order too.

At least one of us is enjoying ourselves, she thought, leaning back. Despite remaining full, her drink also remained untouched.

Opposite sat Doc, not drinking his drink.

The night was young. There was always a party on; they could hear Pinkie’s yelling over the DJ’s beatbox, without at any point making out what she said. Only wild excitement broke the surface. She seemed possessed by its spirit.

Daisy had stayed at the shop, trying to recover and pass the night without sleep, waiting for Luna’s purge. How she intended to stay awake, Roseluck hadn’t the faintest idea, but Daisy had insisted. And while Lily seemed satisfied, even casual, about the whole thing, Roseluck kept rehearsing their return in her mind’s eye, coming back into the shop to see Daisy slumped as though lifeless on the bed.

Around them, the music thumped-thumped-thumped on.

“You know,” said Twilight in her special I’m-being-reasonable-against-all-the-odds voice, “if I knew this was how I’d be spending my break away from the conference –”

“It’s a chance to relax,” said Lily happily. “Now, about that Bungled Nine Queen thingy –”

Twilight was so relaxed she groaned at this chance for more. “Bundle-Quinine Thesis. And as I’ve patiently explained, it has nothing to do with –”

“It has everything to do with what we’re talking about! You can’t rule out the possibility that the whole world might end tomorrow because… um… there’s always something you missed. You never really see it coming.”

“No, you’re mixing that up with Gravy Gloom’s induction problem. Which I don’t think you’ve quite understood, either…”

Roseluck looked up at last.

Opposite sat Doc, not drinking his drink.

She opened her mouth, and then rammed it shut.

Opposite sat Doc, still not drinking his drink. Why doesn’t he say something?

At one point, he did glance up at her, guiltily, but then just as guiltily his gaze dived back down again.

“Ahem,” she said. “Doc?”

He stiffened, then kept on firmly examining the drink as though it had contemplated drinking him instead.

Every word being dragged out of her, Roseluck said, “Thank you.”

Doc’s examination of his beverage now took on a distinctly puzzled tone, as though it had contemplated doing the macarena. Somehow, Roseluck resisted the impulse to go over and thrust his head up when she talked to him.

“For getting Twilight to help,” she continued.

“Yes,” he said. Defeat lined every inch of his words. “I suppose one should be thankful for small mercies, eh Roseluck?”

The growl prowled out before Roseluck could leash it and stuff it back indoors. He didn’t have to say it like that.

Doc swallowed and made to pick up the drink. He must’ve heard the growl because he soon added, “In light of recent evidence, that is to say, the, uh, incident, I suppose it’s time to reconsider my, um… I suppose it’s time to reconsider… things.”

Their eyes should have met; Roseluck’s heart was certain of it. They should have swapped small smiles, maybe made a little light talk, inched a little closer together while doing it, perhaps moved on to something worthier of Roseluck and Doc…

Opposite sat Doc, not drinking his drink.

Roseluck grunted impatiently and nursed her cup. Around them, the bright lights of fun flared on and the happy voices of two disputants near the brink of insanity – Twilight slowly inching towards it, Lily practically camping on it – were boisterous strangers to Rose and Doc, completely clueless and annoyingly nudging their elbows while the two of them sat there. Not drinking their drinks.

Daisy was cured. The nightmare was over. Hooray!

So where was the sense of victory? True, she’d been there with Daisy from the first day, always checking, always wondering if they should drag Doc into the bedroom to make sure Daisy would wake up soon. How had she followed this up? By bumbling after Doc, to the hospital, to his home, and to what felt like an endless party. Feeling stupid and pointless the whole way. If she hadn’t been there, she knew, he could have done the whole investigation by himself. Probably faster, too, since he wouldn’t have to stop every five minutes to explain something to a helpless baby in tow.

She tried to remember the details of the Oneiroscope. What had the helmets actually done? Yet no matter what she tried to remember about mind-reading graphs and connecting to power sources or whatever, their secrets were basically no better than magic to her. She always fell back to square one.

Stupid brain.

Yet she wouldn’t drink her drink. What would be the point? It’d distract her. Like she needed any distractions right now.

“Actually,” said Doc, sitting upright. “I, uh, did have something for you, my dear Rose.”

Roseluck cocked an ear. She too sat upright. “Doc?”

“Yes, I –”

“Excuse me! Doc!” Lily popped in next to him. “Quick question: where’s Quickfix staying? I’ve just had an idea.”

And Roseluck slumped back down again. Doc looked positively thrilled to have been met with a more quotidian problem.

“Oh,” he said, “she has her HQ up along Golden Delicious Street. Near the river. In fact, I helped her once relocate her workshop there after we had that parasprite infestation. Now that was quite a story to tell –”

“Golden Delicious Street near the river. Thank you.” Lily popped out of the conversation again, soon lost to the crowds.

“Haha, I say, she’s certainly enjoying herself tonight. Usually, you can’t get a word out edgeways, eh? Getting a word in, on the other hoof.”

Roseluck grimaced. She was starting to regret Lily’s newfound confidence.

Evidently, Doc picked up her less than enthusiastic response, because he smoothed his tie down and hastily reached under the table. His muzzle focused entirely on her.

“Yes,” he said, “I’ve been saving this for a while. Couldn’t think of the right time. What with one thing and another…”

A spark of interest awakened.

Roseluck’s ears rose up. Her eyebrows even strained to peek over the table. Her mouth gaped with the stretching effort. Perhaps he’d seen the light at last?

Doc met her gaze for gaze. “Roseluck, my dear, dear Roseluck…”

“Yes?” she whispered, and then raised her voice because the music kept beating her ears down. “Yes!?”

And he lifted up from below –

“Voila!” He offered it to her. “For you, Rose! Pretty good, eh?”

Roseluck waited for her eyes to correct themselves. They did not.

Her ears drooped, her eyebrows sank, and she had just enough time for a groan before she slumped, hoof in her cheek like a fist, over the table.

“A book,” she said.

“A book!” he said proudly. “You’ve been such an eager science beaver, I just had to express my delight at your interest in the field. Especially after the spirit you’ve shown today. Roseluck, ma chérie, I sincerely believe that in your heart – metaphorically speaking, since we know our anatomy, eh? – lie the makings of a true scientist!”

Roseluck stared at the cover.

“The Pleasure of Stumbling Over Things in a Muddle,” she read aloud. “By Mister Fine Horse.”

“I did consider Science for Complete Nincompoops, but you know how it is. Can’t get you into the technical stuff too soon, fair apprentice!”

He even winked. On Goldengrape, she knew, it absolutely would have worked. On Doc, it looked like he had something irritating in his eye.

He’s not the only one, she thought, staring at him.

Roseluck wiped her hooves over her face. “I’m tired. Let’s just go –”

“Back to my place? What a splendid idea, Roseluck!” Before she’d even swallowed the words, there Doc stood, forelimb extended like a gentlecolt who’d learned gentlecolting out of manuals. “Allow me the honour?”

“How romantic,” she muttered.

Yet she let him, anyway, leading her through the meaningless noise and excessive happiness of other ponies. Not that she had many options, stupid little wannabe like her. Might as well take what little romance she could get.





Walking alone at night had never featured high on Lily’s wish list. Over and over, the idea curled around inside her head. If it was the closest thing she’d get to a night light, she was taking it. She’d take anything, whether or not it glowed or even could glow in any literal sense.

In the dark, she tried to remember which direction the Everfree Forest was. Of course, she hadn’t heard of any monster attacks recently, but still…

By the time she got to the intended door, sheer nerves heckled what little courage she had until she rattled the knob and knocked hard, over and over. She almost beat her way in.

A unicorn opened the door. At least, presumably it was. Most unicorns weren’t covered in soot.

“‘Allo, duck,” said the unicorn. “Here for the tradesmare’s entrance?”

“What?” snapped Lily. “Never mind. Let me in! I want to check something.” Politeness checked confidence for a moment. “Please?”

“Ha! At this time of night? You getting my goat, blondie?”

“It’s important, Quickfix. Life-saving, even. I remembered something. Look, can I come in? Please?”

“I don’t usually trade at this hour, blondie. It’s that important?” Quickfix looked her up and down with what Lily considered an indecent lack of haste.

In truth, and eccentric hours or not, Lily saw the leaning interest in the unicorn’s stance. Quickfix’s plan to collect rubbish and then sell it for profit rarely got beyond the first stage. A mare begging to see the merchandise was high on the list of things Quickfix liked to see, right after said mare parting with little coins.

For the sake of appearances, though, Quickfix hummed as if in doubt before saying, “All right, if you’re quick as a carpenter’s spell.”

“What does that mean?”

Quickfix frowned. “What what, sorry?”

“How quick is a carpenter’s spell?”

The smirk vanished. Its lips opened and shut repeatedly before Quickfix supplied them with, “Pretty quick, I expect…”

Lily was ushered through the main hall into a side room. From ceiling to floor, Quickfix’s workshop swelled with junk. The point was, though, that the junk had been arranged, rowed, columned, sorted, sized, grouped, and laid out as though Twilight Sparkle herself had briefly developed a craze for tin cans and half-rotten teddy bears.

The room wanted to be a library. Instead of books, it held everything else.

Broken whisks, empty bottles, action figures with parts missing, ripped and soiled blankets piled near enough mattresses to satisfy a mouldy pea and an extremely unfussy princess: boxes and crates and plastic cubes ran along and up the shelves, which themselves flexed in and out of the room so bizarrely that, from above, all would have looked like a splodge of iridescent paint. This was the room of someone who had committed to their dream, and who never, ever threw anything away, in case it came in useful – or at least profitable – later on.

Just the place she’d been looking for.

She made the mistake of breathing in.

“So,” said Quickfix, smugly beckoning for applause with a grin while beside her, Lily fought a gag reflex. “What can my humble little tinkerer’s earhole do for a lovely mare like you?”

Lily gripped the idea in her head tight. This was no time for exploring.

“A book,” she said firmly.

“Got hundreds, blondie.” Quickfix beckoned her further into the heckhole. “Shocking, ain’t it, what gets thrown out? But they all end up here, and you got that straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Lily eyed her up, full of suspicion. “And what’s that one mean?”

Again, the smirk vanished. “What one?”

“Straight from the horse’s mouth. What does that mean?”

Quickfix gave her a puzzled look. As far as she was concerned, idioms were for dazzling, not for being picked apart.

“I dunno?” she said helplessly. “Racing, or something? Racing’s an industry,” she added indignantly, a waste of time since the soot and the smell made it impossible to believe she’d ever done anything dignantly.

Lily crossed to the bookshelf and glanced over the covers, trying not to breathe too heavily. Even now, some acid pricked her nostrils and left threatening little messages.

Still faintly puzzled, Quickfix said, behind her, “What’s the important thing, Miss, uh…?”

“Lily Valley,” she said without looking round.

“Miss Lily Valley? A particular book, was it?”

“A very particular book. I think a friend of mine might have thrown it away.”

“Accidentally?”

“I don’t think so. They didn’t understand what they were doing, though.”

Quickfix tapped her on the shoulder. “Look, blond– Miss Lily Valley, just what’s the deal with burning the candle at both ends?”

“And that idiom means what?”

Embarrassed silence followed, before: “Old workmare idiom, that. Old practice of… uh… working at night?”

“Are you making these up?”

“N… No?”

Turning away from the shelves, Lily growled. There must’ve been enough shelves here to keep her the whole night.

“All right,” she said. “Here’s what I’m looking for…”

She needed a few minutes to explain. This particular book hadn’t been stock issue. Besides, she kept stopping Quickfix mid-clarification to pop any particularly obnoxious idioms she tried on Lily.

“…and that’s it,” said Lily calmly.

“And that’s it,” repeated Quickfix.

“Yes. And I want it now. No ‘making a pig’s ear out of it’, no ‘striking while the iron’s hot’, and definitely – and I mean this – no mentioning Query Street.”

“I worked hard on that idiom.” Quickfix sulked. “Not many chums know Query Street’s a reference to a Canterlot bankruptcy court, you know. I take industry idioms seriously, come what may.”

“Well, I read books, and I know my idioms from my idiots. So don’t try any of that chummy-old-ducky stuff on me, got it? Just a book. A plain, simple book. Not a chip off the old block. Not a rustle of the binder’s art. A book. Understand?”

“All right, all right, I’m getting it. Got it?”

Lily fought not to breathe in again – the speech had placed one too many demands on her lung capacity – and watched Quickfix wheel out the ladder. A scurry up, a shuffle of pages, a scurry down again, and a thump.

“There you are,” said Quickfix. “Straight from the horse’s –”

“Ah?” said Lily.

“As bright as a brass –”

“Ah?”

“Fresh off the trolley –”

“Ah?”

Wishing death through her scowl, Quickfix levitated the promised item. “Your book, Miss Lily Valley.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Lily bit the book and made to tug it out.

“Ten bits,” said Quickfix at once.

Lily let go. “Ten bits!? For a thrown-away book?”

“Well, it’s vintage. Thrown away a few years ago, if I’m not mistaken. Plus, I’ve got the business to think about. Just be grateful I’m not upping the price to meet demand.”

“I’m the only one who wants this!”

A vengeful smirk resurfaced. “Exactly! And I’ve got the only copy you want, so fair’s fair in love and profit.”

Mere seconds passed, most of which involved shoving aside any money concerns. The sooner she was out of the dark and back home, the better. Besides, she’d resolved not to leave this place without the book.

“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll have some sent down tomorrow morning.”

“Ha! Up front. In cash.”

It had been a long night. Lily reached forwards and placed a hoof on each shoulder. Then she delivered…

A face.

She immediately had to grip Quickfix tightly to stop her scurrying backwards.

Words of judgement left Lily’s twisted mouth. “I’ll have some. Sent down. Tomorrow morning.”

For the first time in her entire life, Lily faced someone more frightened than she was. On deep dark nights, she would get out and savour this memory, if only for its sentimental value.

“That,” said Quickfix with much effort. “Seems. Fine. To me.”

“Glad we cleared that up.” Lily snatched the book. Time to leave. The universe would never let her get away with being the giver of fear for long. Not when everything was used to her being the taker.

At the threshold, however, she did hear Quickfix ask, “This book is that important, blond– Aaiiee, I mean Miss Lily Valley? Ma’am?”

A little honesty poked through the shield of fearlessness. Lily put down the book to clear her mouth.

“I think it could help, yes.” Halfway down again, her head remembered and raised itself once more. “By the way, you ever considered taking this stuff to the city? Might have more luck in a place like that?”

“The city?” said Quickfix.

“Uh huh. I remember reading a book about some business pony who got rich selling garbage in the city. Pretty good book, I thought.”

“That’s just copycatting. I’m filling a niche here. Anyway, ain’t polite to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Lily scowled at her. “Seriously, do you have an idiom dictionary, or something?”

Surprise caught Quickfix around the midriff. Her blinking never seemed to stop.

“Just a lucky guess,” Lily added, picking up the book.

The last thing she heard before she braved the night was: “I need one! Ma’am, I raid garbage for a living. Do you know how hard it is to keep up the chirpy cheeky chummy act when you smell like a blacksmith’s underpants?”




> A Rose in Three Dimensions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doc’s room, as ever, was the usual battleground between a science lab and a junkyard sale. The usual mish-mash of seats half-buried under half-finished doodads. A room too small to contain every whim of the mind that occupied it.

As ever, Roseluck found a chair under all the rubble. She dumped herself there and sank as low as she dared, safe in the knowledge that Doc’s genius didn’t extend to reading body language. Not when he was possessed by enthusiasm.

“I’d like your opinion on a little thing I’ve been working on,” he said. Rummaging through a pile nearby, he talked over his shoulder. “You see, designing those ‘contaminant detectors’ – that and Twilight’s talk about dream guards – woke me up to a major flaw in the Oneiroscope design.”

“Really,” said Rose.

“Getting into dreams is one thing. Getting out without getting chomped on by a ravening plant is quite another. That’s where we need some form of mental antigen, to fool the antibodies patrolling the domain of the subject’s psyche…”

Roseluck lost the thread around the words “mental antigen”, though she hadn’t been holding on tight as far back as “getting into dreams is one thing.”

Doc’s speech spun out, an endless yarn. Pretty soon, he’d practically forget she was there. Lecturing the wall would be normal once he was in the zone.

She sighed as loudly as she dared. To think that she’d once found his runaway lectures endearing. A brief attempt at listening to him failed as soon as she heard the term “neural macrophage equivalent”.

Roseluck slipped off her seat and stared around her.

If she ever cleared this place – a process requiring industrial vehicles, by the look of it – Doc’s private quarters might make a lovely boudoir. Yes, she could put heart-shaped bouquets along the walls, perhaps set up a row of rare orchids for display. They’d have a dancefloor to themselves; not a ballroom exactly, but add a few velvet drapes here and there, perhaps a piano in the corner, hire someone like Octavia Melody to play for them. And oh, how they’d dance the night away! Doc, resplendent in his tuxedo…

His tuxedo…?

Roseluck mentally changed it. Obviously, chequered jacket and trousers would do, with a tie as garish as it was tasteless. Perhaps a straw hat too? Ah well, at least he’d look smart in his own bonkers way.

Doc, resplendent in his… bonkers way. And her, Roseluck, swirling and twirling, dress sparkling rich with the finest gemstones of Carousel Boutique. A Jewel-iette Rose, the most expensive rose in the world, tucked behind her ear, soft pink as delicate skin. Allons-y, he’d say. Let us dance under the stars, ma rose de bonne chance.

She’d close her eyes. They’d lean closer, breaths hot on each other’s muzzles, until he’d whisper –

“Dang and blast!”

Metal clashed on metal. Roseluck woke up and spun around to see a pile of gears crashing into the carcass of a washing machine.

“Almost had it then,” he said, brushing his tie down. “Well, Roseluck? What do you think?”

What little embarrassment she had left faded away. He was talking about his stupid Oneiroscope again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sounds all right, I guess.”

Doc raised an eyebrow at her, brushing it off soon afterwards with a flippant flap of his forelimb. “Of course, fair’s fair, I wouldn’t be averse to a minor magical modification. As a temporary measure until we find the mechanical parts to replace them, you understand.”

“Yeah. You do that.”

Both of Doc’s eyebrows rose as though out of their seats with concern. “My dear, is there something the matter?”

“No,” lied Roseluck. “I’m just tired.”

“I see.” Doc rubbed the back of his neck. “Understandable, of course. It is getting late. I suppose I could escort you home, if you’d rather catch up on your sleep?”

Roseluck shrugged. In for a cent, in for a bit.

“I did have an idea about the Oneiroscope,” she said, and then tried to think one up.

“Oh?” Doc hurried over, knocking piles of wires and panels over before bouncing off a glass case and hastily righting it. “I’m agog to hear it!”

His hungry eyes met her emaciated ones. Idly, she cast about for anything plausible. Her gaze alighted on the glass. If he could be a genius, then why not her?

“We don’t have to go in to look at a dream, do we?” she said. Natural cowardice came to her rescue. “Too risky. Too dangerous. Too messy. It’d be much safer to watch them from the outside, wouldn’t it? On a glass, or something?”

“A glass?” Doc screwed up his lips doubtfully.

“Something, anyway.”

“Like a crystal ball? A magic crystal ball?” Doc started to laugh, but immediately cut himself off. By this point, Roseluck hadn’t the heart to be offended or flattered either way. “I suppose it might work, but a solid round crystal ball seems wildly impractical. I’ve never understood the appeal, even to so-called clairvoyants. Wouldn’t a flat, wide, tall glass be much more intuitive for pony eyes? Not forgetting it’d be easier to store when not in use.”

Inevitably, Roseluck watched him turn away. Already, he walked off with her idea. She’d barely started talking shop.

“What do you think, Rose?” he said suddenly.

Caught by surprise, her mind came up blank. “Huh?”

“One of the days, perhaps? I’m sure I’ve got an old goldfish tank somewhere in the backrooms. Next to the giant kettle.” He winked over his shoulder. “Our little project, eh? Just like old times.”

She looked at him, a circle trying to understand a square. How could he think they’d just roll their sleeves up and pull out the old days like a blockage in a drain? How could he be so brilliant and yet so stupid?

Perhaps, above a certain height, common sense looked so small and trivial.

“Yeah.” She put on a plastic smile. “Why not?”

“Wonderful! I always loved having you – I mean, there’s no apprentice I’d value more. Perhaps next Tuesday, or once the summer rush is out of the way. Now, I had an idea about using a kind of light gun to spread images across a screen really fast, as it happens. Never thought about how to make it move quickly enough, but a mere mechanical conundrum shall fall mightily before the vast machines of pony genius…”

“Sure,” she murmured, turning away.

“Oh Roseluck, while you’re over there, I don’t suppose you could fetch me some of those diodes?”

“What dio–?”

“That’s my Rose! Tally-ho!”

He hadn’t even looked round. Already, he’d found some glassware and was sizing it up.

Practically sleepwalking, she shuffled around the piles to a cupboard opposite. Diodes poured out of it when she opened the door. All of them looked cracked and broken. Fruitless as ever, Roseluck patted about the floor for any that were halfway decent.

He didn’t even clean the place properly. Dust clouds rose where she patted. Overhead, she saw cobwebs and grimaced. Disgusting habits.

She followed the contours of the room, away from Doc’s voice. Surely, he had a secret stash of diodes elsewhere? Most of the junk here had turned grey under the age and the inability of Doc to hold a duster with much enthusiasm.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. There was the older cupboard, of course, once she shoved aside a mountain of ancient, fossilized junk. Awful smell, too. Like something had died.

She sniffed again. Compost?

Roseluck frowned. Definitely a floral smell. This was odd enough to begin with; Doc’s science rarely extended to biology.

She followed the smell to another pile of ancient junk and walked around it to the far corner of the room. Here, the junk resembled failed school projects, all cardboard and that mashed paper stuff they built soda volcanoes out of. The smell piled onto her nose.

She peeked around the paper and cardboard, pushing the model of a chloroplast over until it crumpled under years of neglect. There was a glass case, cracked by some forgotten accident along one side.

Inside it, in the corner, was a dead rose.

Roseluck stared at it. Time, drought, and lack of housekeeping had withered the tip to a black char, but there was no mistaking the smell.

Gently as she could, she lifted the case up and over. Now the smell was overwhelming. Beside it was an unopened box of chocolates, judging from the faded chocolate bar on the cover. With a red ribbon. She didn’t dare open it. Goodness knew what the chocolates would look like now.

A yellowed card lay beside them both. Pink and heart-shaped: the mouth-writing when she opened it was blue with splodged ink, as well as carefully looped and lined. She knew at once it was Doc’s, from school. He’d always been extremely careful whenever he wrote.

She read the message.

And in that moment, Roseluck was a circle, briefly lifted out of a flat plane, and shown a new dimension opening up alongside her to become a sphere. Looking down on an endless expanse to realize there was a her outside of it, in a direction that had seemed impossible a second before. Perhaps she could even forgive him the book.

He’d tried being romantic once.

She’d never received these gifts. But she remembered he’d brought them into school once, and then spent all day clueless what to do with them. So he’d taken them home again. She couldn’t remember if this was before or after he started inviting her over to make model space rockets.

Oh, it was unbearably cliché. Flowers, chocolates, and a card with a nauseating poem in it. Someone – perhaps he himself – had put it into his head, and he’d followed the clichés like instructions in a manual. Yes, that’d be how he did it.

He’d definitely written the poem. No one else could compare her eyes to the Green Pea Galaxy, including spectral type and how the pupil was more a supermassive black hole in the middle.

“Roseluck? Roseluck?”

She dropped the card and backed out guiltily. Had he even remembered these things were here, lost to the piles of dreams he’d collected over time?

“Yes?” She choked on the word.

Behind mountains of mess, Doc’s voice came from across the room. “It’s all right! I’ve found some diodes. Come see what I’ve got here. It’ll blow your mind, as the kids say these days.”

Roseluck cleared her throat. Now was not the time for this. Life grew inside her once more.

She skipped and jumped on her way back.

“Ah, splendid,” he said, while she wiped a few wayward tears. “Great wickering stallions! Something wrong with your eyes?”

“Just a little dust,” she managed to say.

Doc laughed. “My word! I thought you’d found the battery acid, or something dreadful. Yes, it’s awfully dusty in here, isn’t it? I keep meaning to clear it out, but you know how it is.”

Roseluck made a show of examining the bits laid out between them. “So, you think you could do it?”

“Hm?”

“Make a ball… Sorry, screen to show dreams on?”

“Hm. Well, one or two ideas tease my brain, but I’m sure I’ll catch the scallywags soon enough. Perhaps I could make something useful with that light gun device after all, if I could make the photons behave. Perhaps some tubing to conduct electricity?”

“Or a vacuum?” she said, vaguely remembering an old lecture. “So there’s minimal air resistance?”

Doc laughed. “Air resistance, bless. That said, you mean for the photons or for the electri…city?” He tapped his chin. “Or… Or for the electrons instead! Of course! Brilliant idea, when you put it like that. An electron image, in a vacuum tube. Be a dear and pass me that wire, would you?”

“Of course, captain!”

“Thank you. Yes, if we found a way to convert dreams into images via a two-dimensional interlude, I’m sure we could reverse-engineer the original to create a simulated image with electrons, not photons. If only…”

Tonight, Roseluck settled in to a romantic evening for two. Involving cathode rays, with lights dancing on a window, yes, but it all worked in a bonkers kind of way.




> Memories of the Lotus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn opened its one good eye, the sun a flowerhead, the clouds its petals. If the pegasi really did base their weather on the mood of the town, then this morning Ponyville must’ve had a heck of a cheery get-up-and-go.

Lily’s newfound confidence was too good to last. On her way to work, she passed several gardens and felt the old urge to wince or go dizzy at their bent stems. She staggered once or twice.

That was the trouble with flowers. They weren’t usually built to last.

She also felt the weight of the book in her saddlebag. Yes, she’d checked it last night. This was definitely the one she’d seen years ago. Unfortunately, what seemed like a fool-proof idea under darkness looked pretty foolish beneath the light of day.

Turn the corner, walk down the street, turn again, and… there was the shop. A snapshot of a meadow, all greens and pinks. Petals hung from baskets outside.

Now for the door. Supposing it was still locked?

Lily glanced down the street on either side. No sign of Roseluck.

“OK.” She took several deep breaths. “Here we go.”

Her hoof rose to meet the woodwork.

It gave.

At once, Lily let out the breath she’d been holding. So far, so good. Carefully, she slipped inside.

Welcoming her back with open petals, the flowers showered her with delicious scents, stronger than coffee and fresher than fruit. Snowdrops bowed their heads in prayer, tulips burned under the sunlight, lilacs huddled together: all of them old friends.

No one was behind the counter, though.

Hoofsteps thumped down the stairs. Lily hurried over to the counter.

“Morning,” said Nurse Redheart, just before she thumped her last step at the bottom.

“Uh… morning?” Lily gulped. “Is everything… all right… up there?”

Nurse Redheart condemned her with a glance and a glare. “No need to work yourself up. Your friend asked if I could check in for a couple of minutes before I went to the hospital. I didn’t see why not. Noisy party kept me up most of the night, anyway. What’s a couple of minutes going to matter?”

“Oh.” Lily waited for last night’s power high to come kicking, yet nothing kicked. “Good. I guess.”

To her surprise, a smile crept across Nurse Redheart’s face. It was a child, briefly allowed outside by a mother otherwise addicted to quarantine, but a smile from Nurse Redheart was rarer than breezies in a bluebell.

“Daisy Flower Wishes will be perfectly fine. She’s seen some improvement, if your friend’s any judge.”

“My friend?”

“Flower Girl. Rose. You know, pale coat, pink mane?”

“Yeah.” Although in Lily’s mind, the sarcasm landed, she took one look at Redheart and determined to keep it there.

“I’ll tell you what I told her. Daisy knows what she needs to exercise. Don’t stress her out. Don’t pester her to do more than she can. She’ll naturally heal in her own time, so long as you’re patient.”

“Of course! I’m a flower pony! Patience is a must around plants.”

“Hm, and maybe plants are a must around patients,” said Nurse Redheart. She examined a nearby carnation as though to find fault with it. “Anyway, I can’t waste time yacking. There’s only so much I can do before I’ve had coffee for breakfast. Morning to you.”

She bustled out, a true bustler to the last.

When Lily turned to the counter, she noticed a collecting box for the first time. Someone had placed it beside the cash till. A red cross stood out on the white label, a symbol that screamed “medicine” to the most cursory of glances.

“That’s new?” she murmured.

Laughter came from upstairs.

It was followed by voices deep in keenly held conversation. Hoping her idea wasn’t a total bust, she crept up the stairs. Each creak that she nonetheless failed to stop did nothing to stop those voices.

She cocked an ear. Roseluck and Daisy, no doubt about it.

Lily pushed the door open. As she went in, she noticed the desk was free of flower pots and books. Thank goodness. She’d never liked those flytraps anyway.

“Morning Lily!” said Roseluck breathlessly from beside the bed.

Sitting upright on the bed was Daisy. To say she was smiling would be to undersell the full girth of her grin.

“Daisy!” said Lily without hesitation. “You’re… You’re looking well.”

Daisy threw off a mock salute with an utter lack of strain or effort. “Top of the morning to you, Lily! I feel well. Luna purged the system last night. I don’t even feel a smidgen of weight on my chest!”

Nerves and uncertainty kept Lily from jumping for joy. “Uh, good. Good.”

“OK,” said Roseluck, and she raised a notepad before transferring a pen to her mouth. “Anny-din elsh?”

“Just a couple more ideas,” said Daisy.

“Wait,” said Lily, “what’s this about?”

“Well, last night I was thinking.” Daisy threw back her curls and shrugged. “For instance, maybe a good way of drawing business might be to become more active in the community. So I had a word with Nurse Redheart about organizing a charity drive. Say, for foals in the hospital, or to support the staff?”

“Shee weawy wike dat one,” said Roseluck around the pen.

Lily thought about the collecting box downstairs. “I’ll bet. Um?”

A spit of the pen, which clattered on the floorboards, and Roseluck said, “Actually, since Lily’s here, I wouldn’t mind talking about the accounting –”

At this, Daisy leaned back against the bedrest and sighed. “All right. Fair’s fair. You can do it from now on. Officially.”

“Yay! Thanks, Daisy! You’re the best!” Roseluck’s squeak of excitement heralded the scratching of pen on paper.

“Hey, listen…” Lily tried again, the book heavy in her saddlebag.

“And I think it’s about time we put the marketplace stall to better use,” said Daisy. “You were right about that one, Lily. Pots and pans and whatever needed shifting? What was I thinking?”

“Not sure,” said Lily hastily, and she made to take off her saddlebag. “Look, it’s great you’re on top form again, Daisy, but could I get a second to –?”

“That’s the lot!” squeaked Roseluck with a clatter of the pen again. “Ooh, I can’t wait! This is going to be so good.”

“Sure,” said Daisy. “And while I’ve got your ear, I don’t suppose we could talk about Junebug’s –?”

“Daisy!” snapped Lily.

The other two stared at her. Before either could open their mouths in protest, Lily threw off her saddlebag and thrust both hooves deep into it.

More politely, Daisy shuffled along the bed towards her, head bowed. “Sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to ignore you. What is it you wanted to say?”

Lily’s hooves came up. And, nestled between hooves and ergots, was a book.

Daisy’s polite inspection stopped. Beside her, Roseluck gasped.

“Um,” said Lily. “Ta da?”

Daisy reached for it, very carefully, as though it were a fragile flower.

“Is that…?” she whispered.

“Quickfix got it from your trash years ago. I was lucky she hadn’t already sold it yet. But I thought: well, I never found it around the place after we opened the shop. And sooner or later, where do unwanted things end up?”

Thump went the book onto the mattress. Smack went Lily’s hoof against the cover. She flicked through a few pages.

“Where is it, where is it?” she murmured under her breath. “See, I’d thought about getting it for a while. Last night seemed to be the right time.”

“But…” Guilt flickered painfully across Daisy’s face. “But I never showed you this.”

“Come on, Daisy. It’s me. I don’t wait for you to show me stuff. Plus, you have no imagination. You always hid it under the bed, even when you were a foal.”

Daisy looked up sharply.

“I never told anyone!” Lily forced an apology to stretch across her lips. “Eeee… except Rose, maybe? And anyway, you know I always search a place well before moving in. To be frank, you were dumb enough to put it under the bed here too before we opened the shop.” It occurred to Lily she wasn’t striking the right tone. “Um. Sorry about invading your privacy? Aheh.”

Sharp words threatened to cut across Daisy’s mouth. Then she sheathed them, lips tightening together. She looked down.

It was a picture. Of a flower. The petals looked like those of a mauve carnation, but there was no mistaking the image from her childhood.

“The Dream Lotus,” she whispered.

“I always knew,” said Lily soothingly. “I just didn’t want to say anything.”

Roseluck craned to see.

All three of them admired the Dream Lotus. A plant so impossible to manage, even for the most experienced gardeners, that to find and keep so much as one would instantly prove the sheer skill of any dedicated gardener.

Daisy eased a hoof across and slid the book shut. The cover read: “The Flutter Pony Tales for Little Fillies.”

For the longest time, all three of them read the title over and over, or they followed the vine-like decorations around the central picture, or they examined said picture of a spindly little pony-like creature and its butterfly wings. Lily hoped there wouldn’t be any crying.

Daisy sniffed. Once. As soon as Lily looked up, though, she was assured. No tears, not even threatening ones. If anything, Daisy beamed at her.

“You stupid, nosy little explorer,” Daisy said happily.

So far, so good. “What are friends for?” said Lily weakly.

Roseluck showed less restraint; a howl, a sniff, and she had to turn away.

“It was a good dream,” said Daisy, holding up the book.

“I know what it’s like,” said Lily. “Being an explorer sounds a lot more exciting when you’re stuck in school. Or when everyone calls you ‘Scaredy-Pants’.” Memory made her wince. “Especially then.”

“But I don’t understand,” wailed Roseluck, regaining herself enough to not quaver when she spoke. “Why did you throw it away? We wouldn’t have minded. There was no need to be ashamed of us!”

Daisy sighed and leaned back until she landed flat on the bed, her locks a cushion, her limbs useless in the air. She savoured some old memory.

“I’m not ashamed.” She shook her head, rolling it back and forth emphatically. “I never was. Maybe when I was younger, because I already knew it would’ve been silly to be famous or an adventurer, but when I bought the shop, I was old enough to get over that. Come on, who seriously worries about their best friends and their childhood dreams when they’re grown ponies?”

“Then what was it?” whispered Roseluck.

Lily didn’t hesitate. “You,” she said. “You were ashamed of you?”

Daisy closed her eyes. As she lay there, like she’d been spooked once again into fainting, the muscles tensed around her mouth. Her very face quivered under the effort.

Finally, she relaxed. “It’s silly, I know. But I wanted you to be proud of me too.”

“Oh, Daisy,” said Roseluck in a sigh. “We are proud of you.”

“I wanted to be the bravest one. Brave enough to go for that Dream Lotus and show you all. I wanted to inspire you with it. I don’t care what I was in Ponyville’s eyes, but what was I in yours?”

Mattress creaking beneath her shifting weight, Daisy rolled forwards and scooped up the book. Once more, she flicked open the pages. Lily moved round to peek, and was utterly unsurprised to see the petals again.

To the pages, Daisy said, wielding an extremely careful tone like a glass flower, “You’re as good as sisters to me. I never wanted to let you down. I owe you two so much.”

“Daisy…” Lily reached forwards and shut the book.

“I know it’s stupid, but it still gets to me. I never wanted –”

Roseluck put a hoof to Daisy’s lips. Shocked eyes looked down at the hoof, then across at her.

“Daisy,” said Roseluck gently. “You’re doing it again.”

Hoof left mouth. Daisy grinned by way of apology.

“All right,” she said. “No more sadness. We had some good times. Just give me a leg down, will you? I still feel stiff in parts.”

Lily watched uncertainly; despite Roseluck guiding the mare down, Daisy moved as though stricken by arthritis, every movement somehow shaky yet precise. Lily had enough presence of mind to open the door for them.

“All right!” said Daisy with more gusto. “Come on, girls. Let’s sell some flowers.”

“Right behind you –” Roseluck giggled “– Princess.”

Before following them, Lily glanced at the book on the bed. Fairy stories. Daisy – hard-headed, practical Daisy, who’d scrimped and saved for every inch of this building – had been into fairy stories. Briefly, she allowed herself to remember the sound of laughter, from three fillies in the meadows. An explorer, a scientist, and someone who’d secretly dreamed.

Sounded about right.

Smiling where they couldn’t see, she followed the other two down, carrying her first comfortable memory. Rarely in her life did she feel like she’d found the right ground for her. Somewhere to grow, perhaps even flourish. Or at least not to break into a sweat so long as company was around.




> The Daisy, Face of the Sun
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy took up her station at the counter. But then, why not? The girl had earned it, right?

She stepped aside and gestured to the till. “Lily, care to do the honours?”

“Most gracious of you, Your Highness.” Lily winked and hopped to position. Further along, Roseluck shuffled a batch of papers.

“Ready to do the accounting, Rose?” said Daisy.

“You bet!”

“Right on.” Daisy rubbed her hooves with glee. Never had she felt so full of sunshine. Though the rays themselves cast narrow beams up the walls – they were still under dawn’s watch, after all – she bathed in light lifting her up and warmth thick as honey around her. Not even the aches of a three-day sleep stood a chance. She hobbled unaided to the middle of the shop. Best of all: no weight in her chest. It had long since boiled away.

There she stayed, staring at the door. Surrounded by flowers yet unsold. She glanced behind her. Both Roseluck and Lily watched her too, clearly expecting a relapse.

Something stirred inside her chest…

Daisy did not fight it at all. Baku, Tantabus, or just guilt: something would be there eating away at her. What mattered was what she did next. Do, don’t think. Do, don’t think.

OK, think a little.

She gave Lily and Roseluck her full attention, about-turning as though she were addressing the Royal Guard.

“Girls,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. We might get no customers. We might get some. We might get another cow stampede. I just don’t have a clue.”

Roseluck saluted. “Either way, we’re with you.”

“We’re together,” said Lily. “That is a certainty. The most certain thing I know right now.”

Daisy nodded. She would expect no less.

“It’s all right,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Me too,” said Lily at once.

“Well, I’m not as nervous as you two.” Roseluck’s smug look twitched. “Still a smidgen nervous.”

“Then… we’re nervous together?” said Daisy.

“Yes, yes, let’s go with that.” Lily hit the cash register, and they heard the cha-ching and the rattle of coins. “The Flower Trio: nervous but together.”

“Right.”

Daisy turned back to the entrance. Opening time was seconds away. The important point was that they were doing this together. Together, together, together –

Roseluck’s scream nearly sent Daisy through the roof. Sheer shock and poor limb coordination nearly sent her through the floorboards instead.

“What!? What!?” Daisy picked herself up.

None of the Flower Trio were speedsters, but Roseluck nearly sent nearby petals raining in her haste to reach the frontmost display.

“The carnations!” she wailed.

“What about them?”

“Nurse Redheart must have brushed them on the way out!”

“Why?”

Roseluck pointed.

There, in horrible green and mauve, horrendous as a broken spine, missing only the lightning flash and the proclamation of thunder: a snapped stem.

Roseluck met her gaze, and Daisy tried to think fast against the terror welling up her legs.

“It’s just a broken stem,” she managed to say. “We mustn’t panic. It’s just a broken stem.” Sweat clung to her face.

“Oh my!” moaned Lily behind her. “I knew this confidence thing was too good to last!” A thump, a slight rattle of coins, and Lily sighed on the rebound and landed on the floor.

Soon, Roseluck joined her. Only Daisy remained standing. Beauty disgraced, weeks of hard soil work broken, perfection defiled… All the old instincts of the flower pony came rushing back as a cool wind in the midsummer noon.

“We can handle this,” she repeated, “we can handle this, we can handle this… we can’t handle this.”

Yet as she went down, she couldn’t help feeling a smile spark on her lips. The Flower Trio, through and through. They still got it.





When she and the other two regained consciousness a few seconds later, they set to work at once arranging a flower funeral. And she knew then, as they mingled like drops on a windowpane, that all heavy worries would boil away under the constant warmth. If left in the sun for long enough.