> Cutie Mark Camp Blues
>  by Moonbeam Thought Writes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Where it all started. The beginning.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Incident report: 032A
To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Grand Chancellor, I hope this report finds you well. 
Ever since the Supernatural Being Equality Act, we have been required to take on some such beings in the name of equal employment opportunities. I understand that those we employ are just as worthy of tolerance respect as the next pony, but it makes me nervous having literal vamponies and werewolves around young children. My worries were often described as ‘irrational’ or ‘xenophobic’ by my co-workers, but my fears were justified, unfortunately, with the latest incident we at The Everfree Cutie Mark CampTM, have had to deal with. In summary, two of my employees behaved in a manner inadequate for dealing with children, and harboured a very inharmonious and unprofessional rivalry, which led to the endangerment, and eventual harm, of a hoofful of their wards. It is in our best interests to I believe that the best course of action would be to court martial their sorry arses bring the offenders before The Supreme Court Of Harmony.

I eagerly await your Twilight-damned reply already response, Yours, 

Citric Quartzite






Three weeks before.

“Gonna miss it, gonna miss it!” Chanted a voice from behind me, sounding suspiciously smug at my negligence to pack my bags until the hour before I had to leave.

“Ugh, Neb, can’t you just leave me alone? I’m packing! And you’re just friggin’ salty that you’re not old enough to go.”

Nebulous Thought snickered, before continuing his chant of ‘gonna miss it’. No. I was not ‘gonna miss it’. There was still an hour til I had to go, and the train station was a five-minute walk at worst.

But even as I packed various toiletries and warm clothes, my frustration rose. Why had I waited to the last minute to pack?! I was usually ahead of the curve in packing for camp! Granted, it had previously just been school camps, and this was different. A glance back at my flank reminded me of the reason I was going: no cutie mark, no direction in life. Secretly, I hoped it would be in something cool, like interior design. 

“Gonna miss it, gonna miss it!”

Yeah, being away from Nebulous and earning my cutie mark? This would be a dream come true. I tucked away the last of my stuff into the suitcase and zipped it up, before hauling it off my bed and dragging it over to where the first suitcase sat. All prepared, I took a moment to breathe, which was rudely interrupted by Neb.

“So. I’m not going to miss you, let’s just say that. Mum’ll make me say I do though. Just so you know: I won’t miss you.”

“Pff yeah, not going to miss you either. You know Mum, she’ll get me to say I’ll miss you” I replied.

“Are you ready, Moonbeam?” Called a voice from the hallway.

“Yeah all ready to go, Mum.”

“Good. It took you long enough.”

I took one last chance to glare at Neb and remind him not to go in my room, before grabbing my suitcases and dragging them out of my room. Nebulous followed behind me, making snide comments about my height, and how, ‘if I was strong like him, those suitcases would be light as a feather’. He stopped when Mum came within hearing range of him. 

Vibrant Thought looked frazzled as always, her curly mane sticking out at odd angles and the various pieces of jewellery she accessorised with sitting crooked where they hung. I gratefully let her take one of the suitcases, and I let the other one drop from my grasp as I ran to say bye to Dad. When I returned to gather my luggage and head out, I found Nebulous lifting one of the suitcases in the air with his magic. Show off. 

“Well, if you can lift it, I guess you can carry it.” I smiled at him. He scowled back. 

And with my other things taken care of, all I had to carry was a small day pack with a water bottle and some snacks in it. I slung it over my back, taking care not to disturb my wings, and with that, we were set to leave.

The station was a five minute walk at worst, but Mum insisted on taking the scenic route, which took us past the beach she so adored. That turned the five minutes more I had to spend in the company of family into an irritating seven minutes. 

The sooner I could be around ponies my own age, the better in my opinion. That is to say, none of my friends from school were going on this camp. Half of them had their cutie marks already, and the other half were of a species that couldn’t get a magical symbol on their flank. Which meant making new friends. How absolutely lovely and not awkward at all. 

When we finally (finally) arrived at the station, I noticed there wasn’t a whole lot of ponies my age. There was a few younger ones pumped at the prospect of getting their cutie mark, and a hoofful of older fillies and colts who looked like they’d just given up already. I was a late bloomer, to be sure, but Twilight forbid late as some of them seemed to be. The only others who looked to be around my age were already talking and undoubtably forming friendships already, and I didn’t want to butt in. Or make them hate me or anything. I glanced over at the station clock, my heart falling a little. Twenty-two and a half minutes before the Twilight-damned train arrived. Hopefully it came early. Hopefully.





“Hey guys, guess who brought coffees!” 

The reddish-brown earth pony declared as she pushed the door open. A tray of bitter-smelling beverages was balanced precariously on her back. She walked further into the room, letting the door click shut behind her.

“You get a coffee! You get a coffee!” She pointed at a bright turquoise pegasus and a dark, almost black griffin, who perked up at the idea of liquid caffeine. 

“I’ll pass.” A dour unicorn grumbled from the far side of the room.

“Yeah. Didn’t get you one.” The earth pony’s tone dropped from cheerful to grumpy almost instantly. 

She slid the tray carefully from her back onto the glass coffee table in the centre of the room, before selecting one of the cups and taking a large sip. The two other creatures collected their coffees, muttering their gratitude to the earth pony.

“If you didn’t get me one, then why is there still one left, Foggy Bramble?” 

“Nope. Not for you. The last one’s for me, you old grump.” Foggy said through clenched teeth.

“Could you guys cut it out? We have straws to draw here.” The pegasus snapped.

“Uh-uh, not while Crimson’s still wearing that delightful charm bracelet.”

“Over my burnt body while Foggy still wears that wretched necklace.”

The turquoise pegasus rolled his eyes before turning to the griffin. “Gybh, would do the absolute honour of drawing straws for these two?”

“Ok! Those sourpusses’ll probably end up next to each other though!” She giggled. “No promise of avoiding each other allllll camp!” 

“I don’t mind if you do it for me, Gybh.” Foggy chuckled.

“Yeah whatever. As long as I don’t have to come any closer to Bramble.” Crimson replied.

The pegasus carefully selected a straw from a mismatched pile on the coffee table, Gybh following suit and picking up three. The pair put the straws back down, away from the pile, and started measuring them. When the results were in, the pegasus grinned victoriously, and the griffin smiled hesitantly.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” Foggy Bramble could barely stop herself from going over and taking a closer look.

“Heh. Ah, well, Foggy, you’re not gonna like this…”

“Shoot.” Foggy muttered.

“Don’t tell me-“ Crimson started, before being cut off by the pegasus.

“HA! HA HA! Hahahahahahaha ohhhhh this is FUNNY! You guys are right next to each other! That’s right! Foggy gets the Birch Cabin! Crimson gets the Mahogany Cabin! You two are NEIGHBOURS! And in a lucky twist of fate, I get the Oak Cabin! BRIGHT STREAM FOR THE WIN BABY!” 

“Oh, it’s not so bad. I mean, you could’ve gotten the Palm Cabin, like me. That place is built for summer in the middle of winter!” Gybh tried.

“Yeah. Whatever. I’m going to go move my stuff into my cabin.” And with that, Crimson Thorn opened a window and stepped out. 

“*sigh* Whelp. If you need me, I’ll be moving my bags into the Palm Cabin. See you guys!” 

“I would stay and gloat, but the fabulous Oak Cabin calls! Buh-bye!”

“Yep. Yep. Goodbye.” With no-one else in the room, Foggy sat down and sighed deeply. This was probably going to be Tartarus.





“Home sweet home, I suppose” Crimson muttered as she hauled her duffel bag into the staff bedroom of the Mahogany Cabin.

True to it’s name, the Mahogany Cabin was made up mostly of mahogany wood. The floors, the roof, the support beams sticking out of the walls, all hewn from the same dark wood. Under any other circumstances, Crimson would have smiled and said this was her favourite cabin. In truth, it was. But her neighbour in the Birch Cabin was surely going to make this unbearable. Crimson Thorn still remembered when she first met Bramble. Back then, Crimson had been a lawyer. Oh how she had hated her job with a fiery passion. But hey, work was work, and it was hard to find when your special talent was in cartography. Most of Equestria was explored and mapped, and she had never been very comfortable being someone’s ‘saviour’ or ‘rescuer’, so a job in search and rescue was out of the question. Even without all these factors, it was hard to get a job just being what she was. 

It was not the first criminal case she had worked, but it was her first time defending an arsonist with too much evidence against her. That unlawful fire-starting mare had been none other than Foggy Bramble. After she lost in court, Foggy had developed a dislike for Crimson, and due to this, Crimson had likewise developed a mild hatred for Bramble. Which made it all the more annoying when both of them applied for the same job, and were both accepted due to staff shortages, and a request from the higher-ups. Something about ‘diversity’. 

Looking around the room, she could see it hadn’t changed much from her last stay, with the exception of the bed, which had moved from the right wall to the left. The curtains were still a heavy, floral, dark red material, and the rug in the middle of the floor was still an off-white half circle that always seemed to be off-kilter, no matter how you arranged it, or how many times you arranged it. Leaving the duffel in the bedroom, she stepped into the mini ensuite bathroom through a door to her right. Crimson smiled when she saw that nothing had been changed here either, the grime-edged red-and-white tiles, the terrible shower with only cold water, the cracked mirror and square washbasin. It felt like coming home after a vacation, albeit a vacation with nicer ensuite bathrooms, to be sure. 

Walking back through to the bedroom, Crimson decided to take a look through the window, which stared directly out to the Birch Cabin next door. When she opened the curtains enough to see a pair of dark green eyes staring back from the other cabin. Crimson yanked the curtains shut again with her magic. No, she would not like a reminder of that wretched mare. With a sigh, she turned and flopped back onto the bed. Scratchy woollen sheets tore at her back, and the springs audibly screeched at the sudden weight. Sure enough, this was not going to be an easy camp.
> Welcome, Campers!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Incident Response: 032A
To: Everfree Cutie Mark Camp Director Citric Quartzite
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Director Quartzite. 
I sincerely hope this is all one big prank from Scootaloo. You have one chance to tell me this is a prank from Scootaloo. I spoke to your Hiring Manager, Seer Songbird, and damn if that mare isn’t paid enough for all the horse crap trouble you put her through. As she told me, you usually don’t override her in the hiring process, but this time you did. I understand that the order for more diversity in your hiring process was required, I, after all, gave that order, but taking on two employees without any background research, history checks, prior knowledge beyond their special talents and unique statuses? There was no vetting whatsoever! And your attitude towards the darker denizens of Equestria is atrocious! For Celestia’s sake, stallion! Your worries should never have been towards what your employees are, but towards their actions around others! Yes, I agree that those employees should be brought into court for their actions, but I must disagree concerning the level of court, as instead of The Supreme Court Of Harmony, I suggest The Major Court Of Harmonious Action. The Supreme Court Of Harmony is, after all, reserved for world-threatening villains. Your absolute bullcrappery is beyond a waste of my time, Quartzite, so watch your Celestia-damned mouth. If I hear about one more farce from you, I am promoting Seer Songbird to Director, and demoting YOU to paper pusher for Seer! Celestia knows she deserves it!

Reply soon, 


Applebloom Apple






Three weeks before

Peeeeeep peeeeeep

The train whistled loudly as it bustled into the station, right on time. Much to my annoyance, it had not come early, and I had had to endure inane niceties from my brother and Mum. Suppressing a smile, I turned to Mum, who had a small frown on her face.

“Well, this is my stop. Figuratively, I mean. And that means I’ll be gone for two weeks. I hope you have fun at the Winter Moon festival.” I leaned in to give her an obligatory hug. “I love you, see you in a fortnight.” I told her, trying my best to keep the excitement out of my voice.

I turned to Neb, leaning in to give him a hug too. As soon as I was close enough to whisper without Mum hearing, I did so. 

“If you set so much as a hoof-tip over the threshold to my room, there’ll be Tartarus to pay.” leaning back out of the embrace, I said my ‘sad’ goodbyes for Mum’s benefit. 

I didn’t think I could heave both suitcases to the train, so it was fortunate that Mum volunteered her magic to bring the heavy luggage onto the train. Nebulous rolled his eyes and told her he was staying on the platform.

Mum and I stepped onto the train, levitating suitcases in tow. It was like stepping into another world. The Cutie Mark Express is a specialised variety of train that serves to transport the fillies and colts of Equestria to the various Cutie Mark Camps around the continent. Day camps for the little ones, longer overnight ones for the tweens and teens. Cutie Mark Counselling Camps for those with marks they didn’t like. I was heading to one of the overnight ones, but the train was decorated with the younger ones in mind. The first thing I noticed was that there was no sharp corners. Everything was smooth to prevent injury. Then it was the lower-to the ground seats as we passed roomette after roomette. Every time we passed one, Mum would look at me like ‘do you want to go in that one?’ And I would look back at her and shake my head. All the roomettes we had passed thus far either had ponies in them, or were broken in some way. The next thing I really noticed was how the lights were just bright enough to see, but weren’t too bright to blind anypony. This, paired with the washed-out pastels of our every surrounding, made the whole train feel like some demented wonderland.

The next roomette didn’t have many other ponies. In fact, it contained just one. A white earth pony with a golden-blonde mane sat as close to the window as possible, staring out at the station. Mum looked at me questioningly. The pony looked to be around my age, and lonely. I decided to take a leap of faith, albeit a small one. I nodded, and pulled open the sliding door with one hoof. 

“Uh, hi. Is this room taken or can I…” I started

“Yeah sure, you can sit in here if you like. I don’t mind.” 

“Thanks. I’m Moonbeam Thought. You?”

The earth pony turned to face me. “Sauvignon Glamour.” Sauvignon grimaced. “Yes, I know it’s unusual, and no, I don’t drink. Is that your Mother?”

I turned to look at Mum, who was standing in the doorway, still holding the bags in her magic. I motioned for her to bring the suitcases in, before turning back to Sauvignon.

“Yep. No, I’m not adopted, my Dad’s a pony, and I just skipped out on the Kirin genes.” I replied. 

I gave Mum one last wave, before she set the suitcases down in the roomette and made off. 

“Hey, Sauvignon, do you have any siblings?” I asked.

“Ugh, please just call me Vig, or Glam. I’m not a fan of my name, and no, I’m an only child.”

I smiled. “Lucky. I got a brother.”

With a jolt, the train started into motion again. The station outside the window looked as if it began to stretch and pull away, like one of those new-fangled panoramic photos.

“So… you from around here?” Vig said absentmindedly. She was looking out at the world outside again, watching it move past quick enough to almost blur.

“Yeah. You don’t seem like you’re from Seaward Shoals.”

“Ha. No, I’m from Manehatten” she spat the word out like it was bitter. “All the big lights and loud sounds. I just love Manehatten.” She rolled her eyes, which were a vibrant plum colour.

I nodded. Most of the creatures I had spoken to about Manehatten before all agreed that it was spectacular in some way, shape, or form. It was honestly refreshing to meet somepony with a different view of things. 





Foggy Bramble tried her best to sort the things scattered around the staff bedroom in the Birch Cabin. It wasn’t her fault unpacking was hard for her! It was obviously the fault of the stuff she packed! If it wasn’t meant to be strewn around the room like this, then why was it so easy to do so? 

The Birch Cabin was, by far, not the Cabin Foggy would’ve picked, given the choice. It’s proximity to the Mahogany Cabin, for one, and the Mahogany Cabin’s uncanny ability to host Crimson Thorn nine times out of ten. And it was much too far from the forest for her liking. That being said, at least it wasn’t as far from the edge of the woods as the Palm Cabin. Foggy had ended up in that cabin for two weeks in the summer. Oh how that had ended badly. Sorting the various winter coats, boots and hats into the small chest of drawers next to the bed (both of which made out of birch wood, of course), she mused on the inhabitant of the next cabin over. If that mare pulled anything while the Winter Moon Festival was ongoing… 
Ohhhh would she pay. It was hard enough having a week with the full moon rising high every night, but while a camp was ongoing, and with no group leaders to substitute in? Oof. It would be a Twilight-blessed, full-on miracle if nothing happened. 

Foggy still remembered that court case where she had first met Crimson. It had been years and years ago now, but she still remembered the stuffy court room, with no fans or air-conditioning to cool down. It had been in the middle of a boiling summer season, too. Crimson had been her court-appointed lawyer, as Foggy hadn’t been able to afford one at the time, and it was almost like Crimson had disliked her from the start. Foggy had been in court due to allegations of arson, even though the evidence was flimsy, the witness statements were odd at best, and the judge was obviously bored with the proceedings. And Crimson Thorn? She had been completely and utterly useless. She hadn’t any plea bargains for Foggy, agreed with the witness statements, and GENERALLY HALF-ASSED THE WHOLE THING! Sweet Twilight, just thinking about it made her mad. 

Foggy sighed and slipped her necklace off. It was made of little weird-smelling round beads and iron links, rusted from all the use they saw. The beads were interesting, to say the least, and the reason she wore the necklace at all. It wasn’t exactly pretty, and far from what she would consider ornamental. But as long as Crimson wore that stupid charm bracelet, Foggy wore the necklace. It was simple. You wear something that keeps me at least five hooves away from you, I do it back. 

Glancing through the window, she caught sight of two red eyes glaring at her through the curtains of the Mahogany Cabin. The eyes caught sight of her, and the curtains snapped shut again. Foggy rolled her eyes and shut her own curtains in an effort to avoid those horrid eyes. Anything to forget Crimson’s existence. Letting out a deep breath through her nose, Foggy returned to the heavy task of tidying the room.





Bright Stream stood on the raised wooden platform, awaiting the train. The platform had been constructed specially for the arrival of the train, and built in such a way that it could be easily deconstructed and the wooden planks packed away for the next time the train was set to come. There was a few embellishments, like the near-bare-bones steps on the back of the platform, and the lines drawn in chalk signifying where was a safe enough distance from the train tracks. He wasn’t alone on the platform, Gybh was sitting next to him, fiddling with her claws and wearing a crown woven out of daisies. Crimson Thorn and Foggy Bramble stood at opposite ends of the platform, eyeing each other warily. Crimson’s charm bracelet was excusable, but he had had high hopes that Foggy would take off that terrible necklace of hers, for once. It tended to upset some of the more… delicate kids. 

Peeeeeep peeeeeep

A loud whistle made Bright’s attention snap back to what was happening in front of him. The train had finally arrived! He put his best ‘I’m a charming, brilliant, awesome, handsome stallion’ smile, and nudged Gybh with his back hoof. It. Was. Showtime! The sound of hooves clacking on wood alerted Bright to the fact more ponies had come up behind him. Good, good. The group leaders for the younger fillies and foals had arrived. Bright, Gybh, Crimson and Foggy would take the thirteen-to-seventeen year-olds, and the other group leaders would take the (usually smaller group of) eight-to-twelve year olds, who would be across the lake, and coming for a week only. 

The train slowed to a stop, and after a minute, the doors slid slowly open. A loud, chattering horde of children spilled out, like a tipped bucket of molasses. Bright Stream looked quickly over at Crimson, silently begging ‘do your thing!’. Thankfully, she nodded, and illuminated her horn. He knew what was coming, and clapped his hooves over his ears. Foggy, Gybh, and the other group leaders mirrored his action, and Crimson just grinned.

“Welcome, Campers! We are pleased to receive you here at The Everfree Cutie Mark Camp! If you are here for the one-week stay, please find your way to the orange mare with the blue mane, or the green stallion with the pink mane. 
Let me repeat myself: if you are here for the one-week stay, please find your way to the orange mare with the blue mane, or the green stallion with the pink mane.” Crimson’s voice rang out loudly, startling most of the crowd of kids, and eliciting a few small shrieks.

“Can the Campers here for the two week stay please find your way to me, the blue stallion with the green mane, the griffin, or the brown mare with the white mane. 
Let me say it again: if you are here for the two week stay, please find your way to me, the blue stallion with the green mane, the griffin, or the brown mare with the white mane.”

The herd of fillies and foals slowly moved to their respective group leaders, levitating, dragging and pushing all manner of luggage along with them. Bright Stream gazed over the veritable sea of young ponies and halflings, a bit terrified, to be completely honest. This was a big group. He kept his smile on though. There was no excuse for not looking as good as he did. This was sure to be a great camp!





I stepped off the train, dragging my suitcases behind me. Vig was just in front of me, carrying a comically large backpack, as well as a smaller one secured to the top of the larger one with rope. A loud voice boomed out, carrying over the crowd. There was definitely some startled ponies, and somepony shrieked, resulting in a few low giggles. I strained to hear above the idle chatter of the others, and the only thing I could catch was a snippet saying:

“-griffin, or the brown mare with the white ma-“

I nudged Vig from behind, who looked just as confused as I felt. 

“What are we supposed to do?” She asked, her voice struggling to rise above the cacophony of others.

“I think we’ve got to find a brown mare with a white mane.” I nearly shouted back.

Vig craned her neck, searching for the mare. Finally she turned back to me and smiled, before setting off, wading through an endless sea of other ponies. 

“C’mon. She’s at the edge of the platform.”

I nodded, and tried to follow her as best I could. The wooden planks beneath us must have had a thin layer of frost, because there was now a sheen of icy sludge covering the platform. I wished I had thought to wear my boots. There was more than one moment when somepony accidentally bumped or nudged me, and my hooves actually slid a few centimetres across the floor. It was a struggle to follow after Vig, but eventually the crowd thinned out and we were standing in a group of ponies (and those who were presumably half-ponies at least) around our age, and a bit older. In the middle of the group was a reddish-brown earth pony with a puffy, cloud-like white mane, and a cutie mark of a full moon rising over a wooded ridge. 

A tall tangerine-coloured mare with an electric blue mane began moving to the back of the platform, and down the steps there. A small-but-but-not-tiny group of younger children followed her. A washed-out-green coloured stallion with vibrant pink braids also led a group of fillies and foals, albeit a slightly larger one. Finally, with the two age groups separated, the gatherings of ponies around the adults broke apart, and a bright, shockingly turquoise-coated pegasus stallion with a darker, grey-green spiked mane stepped out to the back of the platform. He flared his wings, and slapped them loudly against his side to get our attention. He winced a little with each flap, but finally everyone was quiet and looking his way. 

“I, Bright Stream of the Everfree Cutie Mark Camp would like to officially welcome you to our humble campsite. So, Welcome Campers! I hope this is a fruitful and exciting camp for you all!” He declared. A few hesitant claps came from his audience, but for the most part everyone was silent. 

“Well. You aren’t the most talkative bunch! Let’s get to cabin arrangements. All of you have been assigned a cabin, and a group leader who will reside in the cabin with you. If you have any problems, talk to your group leader. Found a snake? Group leader. Wall fall off? Group leader. Having an emotional breakdown? We have a camp counsellor for that, but it’s always best to find your group leader first.” He chuckled a little. Still silence. Somepony coughed.

“Aaaaand let me just introduce your group leaders! The brown earth pony mare is Foggy Bramble, she’s taking all of you in the Birch Cabin! The light pink unicorn over there with the black-and-red hair is Crimson Thorn! She’ll be with all of you in the Mahogany Cabin! The Griffin is Gybh, and I assure you, she is perfectly capable of helping you in the pursuit of a cutie mark, despite not possessing one herself! She’s the group leader for the Palm Cabin! And last, but certainly not least, is ME! I am Bright Stream, and all of you in the Oak Cabin will be in my glorious presence for the next two weeks!” 

Twilight help us, we were going to be stuck with this narcissist all camp. At least I didn’t think I was in the Oak Cabin. Tartarus if I knew.
> The Higher-Ups aren’t happy.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Incident Report: 032A
To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Dear Applebloom, I am deeply sorry this report had to be written at all. The tragedy that took place could have been prevented, by me, my co-worker, anycreature! This should never have had to happen. It’s my fault its all my fault I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry this is ALL MY FAULT IM SORRY This should be a retrospective lesson in caution, and the dangers of the hiring process. I blame myself. This shouldn’t have happened. Those kids should have had a destiny- a life! I’m sorry Applebloom, this is all my fault. If you wish to fire me for my lack of caution, or any other fault of mine during this debacle, I would gladly support your decision. 

Faithfully awaiting your wisdom, 

Bright Stream.







To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom
Re: Citric Quartzite


Applebloom, I hope this correspondence finds you well. I write to you in the good faith that you know exactly what kind of pony Mr Quartzite really is. He’s gotten… worse since he received your letter. He threw a filing cabinet out the Twilight-damned window! He has a deep, terrible rage inside of him anger issues, and I fear you have only provoked him. It is in my personal opinion that you should lock your doors and windows place Mr Quartzite on administrative leave. For the love of Twilight! He’s putting all of us in danger! He just needs some time to cool off. Please! We don’t have another coffee machine after he threw that out the window too! In his absence, I suggest placing his secretary, Sparrow Shell, in charge. 

Please do something, anything! Please reply soon, 

Seer Songbird.







Incident Response: 032A
To: Parliament Member For The Party Of Equestrian Youth Safety, Scootaloo
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Scootaloo, by now I’m sure you have heard of Incident 032A, and how it concerns both of us. I swear on Celestia’s holy name, if this is a prank on your part, it’s not celestia-damned funny! Oh, and by the way, I tried to arrange an appointment with you, but your boyfriend secretary Honey Tongue told me to go to Tartarus. You should really consider dumping him hiring new help. This letter probably isn’t even going to make it to you, which is another reason you should break up with Honey. In your responding letter to me, which I am expecting, please confirm that this huge pile of crap incident is not a prank. 

From your fellow Crusader, 

Applebloom







To: that damnable mare Applebloom
Re: your letter


I cannot believe you. Replacing me with that fool down in hiring? What was her name again? Sing Song? Whatever. I should fire her just to SPITE you. I hate your guts, Applebloom. This whole debacle is NOT MY FAULT BUT YOURS! YOU WERE THE ONE TO GIVE ME THAT STUPID ORDER! DIVERSITY SCHMIVERSITY APPLEDUMB! I regret to be informed of my BUCKING ADMINISTRATIVE LEAVE ARE YOU INSANE?! THIS CAMP NEEDS ME! administrative leave. Thank you for the notice three days in advance. BUCK YOU. BUCK YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU STAND FOR! I WILL CURSE YOU WITH ALL OF MY GLORIOUS UNICORN MIGHT, FEEBLE EARTH IDIOT!


Citric Quartzite







To: Seer Songbird
Re: Citric Quartzite


Seer, you have proven invaluable to me in my investigation into this incident. I understand that you have recommended one Sparrow Shell for the position of Director in the absence of Citric, but I must disagree. You are the perfect fit for this job, Seer, and you should damn well know it. What was that Tartarus-spawned stallion doing with you as hiring manager, anyways?! Your status as informant to me in the time leading up to this letter has painted you in a good light to my co-workers, too, and I’m sure they agree with me when I say this: you are just what we need for this job. Thank you for your co-operation, and I hope to see you benefitting from your hopefully not temprorary role.

Faithfully, 

Applebloom







Incident Response: 032A
To: High Soprano of The Royal Court, and Co-Founder of The Crusader Magazine, Sweetie Belle
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Dear Sweetie Belle,
I know you have your hooves full at the moment, but Scootaloo isn’t returning my letters, and I don’t know who else I can talk to. There’s been an incident. Out in the Everfree forest. You remember the Cutie Mark Day Camp we used to run there? Those were simpler times for all of us. You surely know how the day camp’s turned into ‘The Everfree Cutie Mark Camp’, and how we’ve got new faces running the joint. Two of the beings formerly employed there- I’m sorry Sweetie. I know you have a full schedule, what with being a newlywed, getting your mag off the ground, and singing in the court o’ the Princess and all… but if you get time, send me a letter. Please. I’ve had to deal with thirty-one different incidents so far, and this one’s gonna be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, so to speak. Send me a letter, Sweetie. I need somepony to talk to.


Applebloom

> You shouldn’t be leaving your Cabin at night, don’t you know?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Applebloom, I would congratulate you on getting yourself into another mess, but this time it sounds too serious for that. Write back to me. How many fillies/colts died? Who did it? Who did you fire this time? It won’t go into The Crusader unless you specifically ask me to put it in. I’ll get in contact with Scootaloo, and absolutely get her to dump that asshat Honey Tongue. I mean, have you met him? and set up a meeting between the three of us. It’ll be just like the good old days. You should probably get in touch with Gabby, or Babs. Those two are Crusaders just as much as you or me. 

See you, 
Sweetie Belle






Three weeks before

Crimson Thorn sat in the staff bedroom, turning over her charm bracelet in a small field of her magic. It was beautiful, but she got why Foggy hated it. That’s why she kept it on, after all. It was made entirely of pure silver, and not cheap by any means. The small charm that hung off it was the size of a bit, and depicted Saint Coltlumbanus on the face. Crimson wasn’t religious, and none of the six branches of the Church Of Eternal Harmony, the peace-loving Solarists, or the duality of the Luneites appealed to her. Saint Coltlumbanus was a saint of those hippies in Solarism, and an obscure one, too. Whatever worked to keep that awful mare Foggy Bramble away, was more than welcome. 

Laughter and pounding hoofsteps resounded throughout the cabin, reminding Crimson of her charges. Twelve of them, to be exact. Twelve fillies and colts she was a Group Leader to. She sighed and slipped the bracelet back on with a flick of red magic, before getting up and walking over to the mini fridge. It sat in the far right corner, humming quietly away. It was that which took up the most space in her duffel, and made it so heavy. But it was essential, and so whenever Crimson packed her duffel, the mini fridge was the first thing in. 

She opened the door. Magic was a wonder; able to keep a small pocket of Equestria eternally cold, no matter the temperature, and keep it’s contents from going bad, as said contents had the habit of doing. But however much of a marvel magic truly was, it couldn’t keep the mini fridge’s door from creaking loudly when it opened. Crimson quickly scanned the contents of the frigid shelves, before selecting a small, opaque pack with a tiny little glass cap at the top. A simple ‘B’ was the only identifying marker, and it was all the identification she needed. Popping the cap off, she quickly swallowed down the dark liquid inside, before discarding the pack into a small bin in the bottom shelf of the fridge with a small ’clink’. Looking back through the shelves, her heart dropped. This supply would last a week at most. It wouldn’t be enough. 

This could end only one way: in disaster.





I stared out the window, almost longingly. Vig had been sorted into the Mahogany Cabin, and I the Birch Cabin. At least the two were next to each other, and cabin groups had no effect on the groups for the daily activities. I could see the Mahogany Cabin out through the warped glass, the dark wood looking steadily back at me, out of place among the pristine snow, like a dark shadow in a white room. Behind me, the Birch Dormitory was filled with talking and laughter. While I had always found it difficult to make friends, it seemed the other fillies and colts of my cabin had no such limitations. 

With a slight sigh, I broke my gaze with the Mahogany Cabin and turned to the rest of the dorm. The bed I had set my suitcases down on was the one closest to the window I stood at, and smothered in heavy, woollen blankets for the winter. Everything in the Birch Cabin was made of light-coloured birch wood. The rooms were lit primarily by skylights; and beautiful, if not foreboding photos of the surrounding Everfree hung framed in each room. There was only three rooms, the staff bedroom, the Birch Dormitory, and what I liked to call the ‘utility room’. It housed a small kitchenette, a set of seven tiny showers off to the side, and the large, tub-like washbasin used for dirty clothes. 

“Hey! Get down from there!” A myriad collection of gasps and giggles drew my attention, along with the shout of Foggy Bramble, who was staring at the ceiling in alarm.

There, on the ceiling with all four hooves planted firmly, and defying the laws of gravity, stood a colt. He couldn’t have been more than a year younger than me, with a coat that could only be described as ‘dusty indigo’ and a dark grey mane and tail, which also managed to reject gravity along with the rest of him. His eyes, though sparkling with mirth, were odd. A similar dark grey to his mane, but slitted, like those of a reptile. The horn crowning his forehead was curved, like that of a changeling, and yet longer than any changeling horn I’d ever seen.

“I’m not going to say it again; off the ceiling please!” 

He sighed melodramatically, before jumping. Midway through his jump, gravity regained control and he crashed back onto the floor. Now that he was back on the ground, the attention of the other ponies gradually drifted away, till I was the only one still looking in his general direction. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do, and hey, it wasn’t every day you see somecreature stand on the ceiling. It was as if he knew he was being watched, and pushed himself up off the floor and turned to face me. I tentatively extended my right wing in greeting, and he grinned, showing off a set of almost shark-like teeth. 

Eh. What the Tartarus. I was going to try and make a new friend, since Vig wasn’t here. I tucked my wing back at my side and trotted over. 

“How’d you do that?” I asked.

“Because I’m a magical unicorn! Hoorayyyyyy!”

“No, seriously. You just defied Hoofton’s law of universal gravitation. I’ve never even heard of a spell like that. You should be in Twilight’s School For The Magically Gifted!”

He laughed. “Sorry, but I am simply too fabulous for such limiting institutions. And besides, the Princess never took on another student after the Luster Dawn Fiasco, and shut down the school. I don’t know where you’re from, but news must reach you pretty slowly.”

“Name’s Moonbeam Thought. What’s yours?”

“The Fantastically Amazing and Mystical Cobblestone!. For real though, I’m Cobblestone.” 

“Sorry if this is a sore subject for you, but why are your eyes so…” I started

“Enchanting? Wondrous? Beautiful? Draconic? My Pops was a dragon. It’s where I get half of my stunning looks from. The ladies just love my roguish features. Like my fangs!” He opened his mouth in a devilish grin, giving me another look at his predator-like teeth. I tried not to stare too much

Cobblestone reminded me of Bright Stream, though with a more genuine confidence and a bit less narcissism. Think 100% theatre kid vibes.

A thought occurred to me.“Wait, if you’re half dragon, can you breathe fire?”

“In an unfortunate twist, no.” He put a hoof to his forehead and sighed deeply. 

We chatted for a while, until a loud bell sounded throughout the cabin. As Group Leader Foggy informed us, it was time for lunch.





Sauvignon Glamour sat at bench in a the lunch hall. What was taking Moonbeam so long? She’d promised to sit with Vig at lunch, before the two had parted to their respective cabins. There wasn’t really anyone else she knew, and making the first move in a friendship was always a daunting task Vig usually just didn’t feel up to. This camp was no different. And so she sat, plate of sandwiches and salad in front of her, waiting for the filly she was… friends with? While the two had talked extensively on the train ride here, it wasn’t clear whether she was officially friends with them. Waiting for the filly she was positively acquainted with it was then.

Wait, over there! A light grey pegasus with a fluffy lilac mane. Finally! Took her long enough. Hmph. Who was that, with the purple coat and weird horn. Vig started to feel the light pangs of jealousy within her chest. Moonbeam was over in the line to get a plate of lunch, along with that other pony. Vig just slumped a little, and continued waiting. When Thought finally (finally!) sat sown across the table from Vig, that purple pony came too, and set his plate down next to them. Up close, she could see that the other pony was more than just strange. His eyes were a shade of dark grey only slightly lighter than his mane, and his coat was a desaturated kind of darkened indigo, but more importantly, he was fundamentally different. His pupils were serpentine, slitted. The horn sticking out of his unruly hair was long and curved. When he offered a hesitant smile to Vig, she could see his teeth were more like fangs.

Sauvignon Glamour didn’t trust him. 

“So, Vig, this is Cobblestone. Vig meet Cobblestone; Cobblestone, meet Vig.” 

“So, uh, is ‘Vig’ short for something?” Cobblestone tried.

“Yeah, yeah. My full name’s Sauvignon Glamour. Please don’t call me that. Just Vig, or Glam is fine” she replied, before asking a question of her own. “So are you a half-changeling or something?”

“Ha. Yep. I, Cobblestone the incredibly dazzling, am half dragon on my Pops’ side.” He declared.

“The ladies think I am positively roguish.” Cobblestone added.

Vig gave Moonbeam an incredulous look. 

“Hey! Don’t look at me! My cabin door doesn’t swing that way! If you get what I mean.” She shot back.

There was a brief period of silence, before somepony coughed, and started up small talk. The lunch passed in relative peace, with the exception of Cobblestone’s unnerving way of eating that unsettled Vig any more. Before she knew it, it was free time. The activities in the pursuit of a cutie mark would start the next day, and from reading the reviews published in The Crusader, she knew exactly what she wanted to try. 





The day had passed quickly, and before I knew it, I was trudging back through sesamoid-deep snow back to the Birch Cabin. Dinner had been fun, as somepony had started a food fight with the mashed potatoes and large, honeyed carrots piled high on our plates. Cobblestone had loved it, jumping right into the fray with his usual theatric air. Vig and I were less enthusiastic, ducking under one of the long wooden tables to hide. Even the Group Leaders, who I was sure were going to break it up, had joined in, with the exception of Gybh, who joined the less eager of us under the tables to hide. 

Cobblestone had had to head back to the cabin early, in order to wash off the gravy and mashed potato he’d been hit with. Leaving Vig and I to walk back to the cabins together. We said our goodbyes when it was time to go to our respective (read: different) cabins. 

And now I sat, alone once more, in the Birch Dorm, looking out through the window. A sudden flash of movement outside in the dark caught my attention. I quickly got up and crossed the room to the back deck of the cabin, opening the sliding door, and stepping out. I peered out into the dark of the night, swirling snowflakes drifting solemnly through the air. There! There it was again! I moved closer to the railing in an effort to try to see more. It was so quiet out here, so absolutely silent. When a voice rang out from behind me, I whirled around, heart pounding, expecting to find some dark, terrible monster. Instead I just found Group Leader Foggy Bramble.

“Uhm, could you say that again?” I asked.

“You shouldn’t be leaving the cabin at night. The Everfree becomes especially dangerous when night falls.”

Foggy looked distant, like she was physically on the back deck with me, but her mind was a thousand kilometres away.

“Uhhhh… ok. I’ll just be heading back inside.” 

“You shouldn’t be leaving the cabin at night. The Everfree becomes especially dangerous when night falls.” She repeated.

I took one last look at her, before making my way back into the cabin. I didn’t sleep easy that night, my dreams a never-ending pool of darkness and falling snowflakes. Foggy’s words repeated inside my head, time and time again. It wasn’t a great first night, but not the worst one I’d had by far.
> Wake up and smell the Roses.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


To: High Soprano of The Royal Court, and Co-Founder of The Crusader Magazine
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Sweetie Belle, 
Thanks for all your concern. I agree that we should set up a meeting between the three of us, and, taking your suggestion, I’ve tried to get back in contact with Gabby. I still see Babs on the regular, and she wants you to know that she loves The Crusader. Anyways, when do you want to meet and discuss things? If you can get Scootaloo to come, that would be great. I won’t put any details into this letter, in case this is somehow being monitored. 

Thanks, 


Applebloom






Three weeks before

Bright Steam stood in the middle of his bedroom, contemplating. It was technically the ‘Staff Bedroom Of The Oak Cabin’ but to him, it was his bedroom. Yes, it was only for two weeks, but he’d never liked how temporary and estranged ‘Staff Bedroom Of The Oak Cabin’ sounded. Everycreature else called their bedrooms that. He didn’t get why. It wasn’t forever, yes, but for now, it was his room. His master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom! Even if it was a small, cheaply furnished bedroom, and a tiny, boring bathroom.

The sun came piercing through the thick curtains, warm yellow rays pouring out of the gap where the two heavy yellow drapes met over the window. Dawn already? Twilight’s spectacular orb rising steadily over the horizon was something Bright woke up early for. Each and every day. Pushing open one curtain with his left wing, he still recalled a time when it wasn’t Twilight’s sun, but Celestia’s. That had been what… fifteen years ago now? Time moved so slowly sometimes. Like everyone and everything was underwater.

A beautiful, picturesque scene awaited him from beyond the window. The snow covering the ground was pristine and powdery, the sun providing a glowing line of gold just along the horizon. The horizon Bright could see from beyond the Everfree, anyway. A glorious sky of eggshell blues, golden yellows, and rosy pinks dotted with white cotton-candy clouds. It was just asking for an early-morning soar through the atmosphere. And the sun! That shining disc of blazing gold slipping sublimely above the edge of Equus was truly Celestia’s gift to all the creatures that walked across the world. 

The moon, though a silvery out-of-this-reality spectacle, it paled in juxtaposition to the dazzlement of the sun. Speaking of the moon, it would be the Winter Moon Festival next week. Foggy Bramble usually took that week off. All the Group Leaders knew exactly why. 

Crimson Thorn hated Foggy, and hated that she wasn’t going to be away next week, like usual. Granted, Crimson Thorn hated Foggy Bramble no matter what she did. 

On another note, the activities Bright Stream had planned for today would be great! He’d always enjoyed kayaking, and poetry had it’s roots in earning a great number of cutie marks over the years. Not to mention the bushwalking and spelunking for after lunch! The first day was always the most fun.

Breathing in the slightly dusty air of the room around him, he smiled. Every day with nocreature hurt or sick, or any other incidents was more than a good day for him. 





I rose groggily out of sleep and into the world of the waking. The sun was scintillating and warm. Low murmurs spilled out throughout the dorm, reminders of the others whom I shared this space with. Other cutie mark-less, destiny-less beings, same as me, waking up in the morning and going about their day, just like me. 

Vig was probably in the Mahogany Cabin, waking up just the same as me, to the same dawn, and the same sun. My friends back at Seaward Shoals were probably doing the same. A hoofful of pegasi, earth ponies, unicorns, a kirin, a changeling, and a hippogriff all connected to their one friend, thousands of kilometres away, by the same rising sun. 

It was a comforting thought. Of the kind that only occur when your mind is still asleep, and yet awake; alive from the world of slumber. 

For a time, the world was perfectly, glowingly simple. It was nice.

And then a bell ripped the enamouring silence wide open. It was time for breakfast. I groaned and rolled over onto my side. The sunlight was too bright, the bell too loud. Waking up was hard when you weren’t drowsy enough to enjoy it. And so I opened my eyes wide open, and sat straight up. Camp called, and who was I to deny it.

I slowly dragged myself out of bed, setting my two front hooves down on the chilly floorboards, and immediately regretting it, yanking them back into the warm covers. The bell rang again, a reminder to get up and out into the world. Steeling myself, I tried again, clenching my jaw as I placed my hooves back down on the bitterly cold birch wood. I stepped forward, pulling my back half along with me, and out into the frosty dorm. 

I took a few minutes to stretch, before sliding one of my suitcases out from under the bed, zipping it open and rooting around for a bit, before finding the pair of fluffy winter boots I had packed. I carefully slipped them on, strapping on the Velcro with my teeth. There. Now the floor wasn’t so cold. The air still bit at my skin, though, and I quickly wrapped a scarf around my neck. It was dark blue with navy and gloomy purple accents, matching my eyes. I zipped the suitcase shut again, and pushed it back under the bed. 

The bell tore out through the cabin again. Last call for breakfast. At this point, only a few stragglers remained. I pitied the poor soul who missed the most important meal of the day. I quickly made my way out the door, hooves sinking into the icy snow. Soft snowflakes drifted down onto my coat, melting into crisp drops of cool water the moment they hit me. I inhaled, the clear air was icy-cold, and my breath came out in puffs of vapour. I trudged through the snow to the lunch hall, a long building made of mismatched wood and resembling a log cabin, though only if you looked from a distance. And squinted. 

Stepping into the hall, it was a chaotic space filled with laughter, loud chatter and a general cloud of that contented feeling you get from a long night of sleep blanketing the hall. 

“Hey! Moonbeam! Over here!” I looked to the breakfast line, where Vig stood, waving to me. 

I trotted up to her, hoping she’d let me jump in the line with her. It was getting pretty long, and she was nice and close to the front. Vig was wearing a dusty-peach coloured cardigan, and a set of black leg warmers. It was kinda retro. It looked good on her. As I moved closer, she paced to the side a little, making room for me. 

“Morning, stranger” I muttered, stepping in next to her.

“Morning yourself.”

“Sleep well?” I asked.

“Yeah, no. I think my Group Leader’s a Vampony” she replied.

I looked sideways at Vig. Her eyes were wide and she wasn’t smiling. She must have been serious. We moved up a space in line.

“Well… does she have pointy teeth?” I inquired.

“Yes. At least I think so.”

I nearly laughed. Everypony knew that Vamponies existed, the Supernatural Being Equality Act made that clear. But nopony really thinks they’ll ever meet one. It’s like alicorns. You know they exist. Everypony knows they exist. But you’ll probably go your whole life without ever even glimpsing one. 

“Ok. Then Crimson Thorn’s a Vampony. What about it?” The two of us moved up another space in line.

“What? You aren’t going to protest this bold accusation?” It sounded like she was trying to be funny, but came off as incredulous.

“Well. For the record, I’ve always believed in the supernatural. The paranormal. The extraterrestrial. Even before the Supernatural Being Equality Act.” I answered.

We moved up another space in line. The serving counter was only a few metres away. Poached egg and buttered toast. It smelled delectable. 

“Wait, so you actually believed all that stuff? Before the SBEA? What about before the RFSB?”

“What, the Registry For Supernatural Beings? I didn’t even know about that until the SBEA went public.” I countered. 

Granted, almost nopony knew about, or believed that Vamponies, Werewolves, Ghouls, Batponies, Accursed Bloodlines or any of them even existed before Twilight legislated the SBEA five years ago. Rumour said she did it for a friend. But then again, rumours also said that the real Twilight died during the Storm King’s takeover of Canterlot, and that the current one was just Celestia in a costume.

“And you believed even before that? Let me guess, Lichs are real too. And all those nasty monsters from Ogres and Oubliettes” 

“Hold up- you play O&O too?”

“Nope. I just know what it’s about. Nerd.”

We shuffled still forward in the line. We were just a space away from breakfast.

“Hey! I’m not a nerd” I riposted. 

“Heh. You totally are.”

“Ugh you’re no fun. And how do you know what a Lich is if you’ve never played?” 

“I had a friend that played. A lot.” Her voice sounded flat. Sad, even.

“Had?” I asked.

“We… uhhhh… well- my mother- I- we’re not friends anymore, him and me. I don’t want to talk about it” she stuttered. 

“Ok. If you don’t want to talk, I won’t make you.” 

We stepped forward in the line again. I grabbed a plate in my teeth. Steaming hot poached eggs, beautifully melted butter on warm toast, topped with a sprig of alfalfa. I inhaled deeply, it was heavenly.

We walked away from the serving counter. Cobblestone was sitting at one of the benches in the middle of the room. He waved to us. I waved back with one wing, and started heading in his direction. Vig paused for a second, before walking after me. I looked back at her for that split second she hesitated, before she smiled and treaded on. 

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here since the first bell!” 

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Fiiiiiiiine. Since the third bell.” he laughed.

I took a seat on the bench across from him, Vig grabbing one next to me. His plate had evidently sat long empty, only the sprig of alfalfa and the dregs of orange juice in his cup remaining. 

Between bites of food, the three of us chatted; about the weather, the Winter Moon Festival, the activities we wanted to do, and the night we had had. Vig was quieter than usual, but still joined in where she could. It was nice. Like an ordinary school camp, with ponies I hadn’t met before then, but just like an ordinary school camp nonetheless.





Sauvignon Glamour sat in the lunch hall. It was some time after breakfast, but sometime before lunch. Moonbeam Thought sat across from her, fiddling with a pencil and some paper.

Poetry. That was what the two of them were trying to accomplish, sitting in the hall, watching snowflakes drift lazily past outside, and generally feeling very… unpoetic. 

Vig’s own paper was empty, the pencil lying lifelessly on the bench beside it. Bright Stream was walking around the hall, checking on the progress of the other poor souls who had volunteered to do poetry. Cobblestone wasn’t there, having chosen to try for a mark in fire magic, out in the snow with Crimson Thorn and the other horned beings. He was certain would be able to gain a cutie mark at this camp, despite Vig’s quiet musings on whether he even could, being a half-dragon and all.

She looked over at Moonbeam’s paper, which actually had words on it. More than Vig could say for her own. Poetry was definitely not going to be in her future. And from the looks of the words on their paper, it probably wasn’t going to be in Moonbeam’s either. She had rhymed bread with meet, for Twilight’s sake!

“Hello campers! What dazzling poetry have we written so far?”

Oh dear. Bright Stream.

“Good, good. Moonbeam Thought, this is…lovely poetry. Sauvignon Glamour, let’s see what you’ve… ah. I see. Maybe give it a try? I’m sure you’ll be great at it!” He commented.

She slumped forward onto the table with a huff. 

“No. I’m not even going to try.”

“Aww, come on… for me?”

“I can feel that this isn’t the one for me. So don’t mind if I rest my eyes for a bit” she grumbled.

She could hear Bright Stream sigh and walk off. It would be better without him there, anyway. 

“Hey Vig?” 

She cracked open one eye. Just Moonbeam.

“Yeah?”

“So you know how you think Group Leader Crimson’s a Vampony?”

“Mm.”

“I think Foggy Bramble’s one too.”

“Why? Whose blood did she suck?” She joked.

“Well… nopony that I know of. But she’s got these little tiny fangs. And she told me not to go out at night. Super creepy.” 

“Ok, so she’s got these weird teeth. Maybe her dentist stuffed up. The creepiest. I don’t think she’s a Vampony, Moonbeam.” She countered.

“Hey, you got to tell me about your spooky Group Leader, why don’t I get to fly my theory?”

“Because I’m sleeeeeeeeping, silly.” She shut her eye again, and made fake snoring sounds.

“Well. When you wake up, I’ll be waiting right here to tell you all about my spooky Group Leader.”

“Ugh, fine, I give up” she groused.

“Sweet Twilight this is just too easy!”

Vig muttered darkly, before pushing herself up off the bench. Somepony was reciting their poem at the front of the hall. It was good, but evidently not good enough to earn a mark, as seen by the empty space on their flank. When they were finished, Bright Stream clapped, and a few others half heartedly joined in. Somepony was asleep on the bench in the far left, and two others were bickering quietly in a corner. No cutie marks, no brilliant flashes of light, no magical force lifting anypony into the air. There were no complaints when Bright Stream declared it was time to move on to the next activity. Poetry was a bust. 





Lunch. The delicious meal that divided the day in half. It was at least half an hour til then. Sage Mercy wished it was less. But even then, she probably wouldn’t get a lunch break. Not while she was tending to the poor colt who had fallen in the lake. Thank Twilight he hadn’t caught hypothermia, and thank her doubly that Bright Stream had been quick to dive in after him. But, unfortunately, he had fallen in the specific part of the lake sectioned off for everypony’s benefit. And the leeches. That was definitely why it was sectioned off.

And so, while the poor soul had the fortune of not catching hypothermia, he had had the misfortune of leeches. Lots of them. And so Sage, being the camp nurse, was going to miss her lunch break getting the leeches off him. 

“So, what’d you say your name was again?”

And he was talkative. Sweet Twilight was he talkative.

“I’m Sage Mercy, sugar. And I don’t think you gave me yours?”

“Oh yeah. I am the especially and mightily powerful Cobblestone!” 

“… I see. Did you at least get your cutie mark?”

He sighed, a tad melodramatically if Sage was being honest, and flung a hoof to his forehead.

“Tragically, no. It was terrible!”

“Oh, I’m sorry sugar. Maybe when you’re all healed up you’ll get a nice one, like mine!”

She grinned and turned to show off her cutie mark, a golden staff with wings and two snakes twined around it, silhouetted against a black flame-shaped shadow. The story behind it wasn’t the prettiest.

“Nice. How’d you earn it?”

She sighed. It was going to be a while before lunch.





Three weeks after 

Applebloom walked into the room, she wasn’t expecting anything fancy, maybe a few trophies, pink curtains maybe. This was Sweetie Belle after all. 

The first thing she noticed was the scent. It hit her like a tidal wave. Roses, violets, marigold, and probably every other flower under the sun. And was that a hint of frankincense? Then it was the room. It was just a lounge room, but it was decadent. Sparkly gold curtains, a miniature chandelier, a sweeping set of princess staircases leading to the next room and plush cherry-blossom coloured carpet blanketing the floor. 

“Welcome to my abode, Applebloom!”

“Wow. It’s been a while since I’ve been to your house but, wow. Ya sure do know how to decorate!”

“Actually, most of this was done by Diamond. She’s really got an eye for design!” She gestured at the room, grinning

“Yeah, how is your marriage, like, so far? Didn’t ya honeymoon in prance?”

Sweetie smiled, a blush quickly spreading across her cheeks.

“It’s- it’s nice, yeah. Prance was beautiful” she squeaked

Applebloom laughed. 

“Ok, quit it! Let’s sit down and discuss your little incident. Sorry I couldn’t get Scootaloo to come. You know how Honey Tongue is.”

Applebloom chuckled dryly. “Do I ever!”
> No, You!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Incident Response: 032A
To: Parliament Member For The Party Of Equestrian Youth Safety, Scootaloo
Re: Site 001: Everfree


Scootaloo. I have been trying to reach you about your extended warranty regarding the most recent Incident I have had to deal with. This Incident is the latest of five specifically in Cutie Mark Camp Everfree. I’m sure you remember the very first incident, Rumble’s takeover of the camp. It was our early days of the camp, and far less complicated ones. In any case, I we need to talk to you about this incident. ‘We’ being Sweetie and me. And please, FOR THE LOVE OF CELESTIA, DO NOT BRING HONEY TONGUE

I hope this letter finally gets a response finds you well,

Applebloom Apple.






Three weeks earlier

Another day dawned upon the Everfree, the sun’s gorgeous light filtering through the thick canopy of trees. Trees that Foggy Bramble strolled through, humming. The Everfree truly was lovely during the day. All of the hard-to-see-through gloom dissipated under the glare of the sun and creepy noises seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving a sunny, peaceful congregation of trees and shrubbery.

Foggy loved the forest. Even at night, she thought it was one of the most beautiful sets of woods she’d been in. The White-Tail Woods and Hayseed Swamp just couldn’t compare. Foggy may have been an earth pony, but even she could feel the magical energies running deep beneath the soil, like a song played loudly, though far away; like a tune carried across the breeze. Foggy Bramble had been in these woods at night before. Both when it was a normal night, and when the forest was lit by the mesmerising light of the full moon.

A break in the trees allowed her to see the back of one of the cabins, standing out starkly against the snow with dark wood and shadowed eaves. The Mahogany Cabin. Crimson Thorn.

The very mare Foggy so hated was standing with a snow-shovel gripped in her, frankly unnatural, magic around the side of the cabin. Just seeing Crimson set Foggy’s blood boiling. The sheer amount of bucking crap that awful mare put her through every camp was enough to have even the most patient of the ELEMENTS OF HARMONY furious.

Not just snide remarks and potshots, either. Foggy had awoken one morning to discover her cabin swarmed with locusts, and on another occasion, all her winter gear had gone missing, before being discovered floating in a block of ice in the lake. Both times Crimson had vehemently denied any connection. Foggy knew it had been her. Both times Thorn had smelled like alcohol, treachery, and lies.

‘Chink. Chink.’

The snow-shovel hit the snow again, and again, and again. It was beyond aggravating. With a silent sigh, Foggy Bramble turned her back, and walked back into the Everfree. The two could butt heads later. She just wanted to enjoy her walk through the forest.





I pushed my plate around tiredly. It was the second day of camp, and a reminder that the first day had been fruitless. No cutie mark. No mystical picture painted magically onto my flank. No discernible future.

At least one pony had gotten theirs. An excitable sunshine-coloured filly, with an orange striped maroon beehive of a mane, and a fresh cutie mark of a fireball. She had asked to be sent home early, to show her parents, and so the Cutie Mark Express had chugged into the station, the makeshift platform reconstructed for it’s arrival. 

And with that, there was only fourty-nine young fillies and colts still searching for their purposes. How delightful. A pin-laden silvery-grey woollen beanie sat lopsidedly atop my head, and my blue scarf was once again settled snugly around my shoulders.

Vig sat across from me with an oversized plum-coloured hoodie and a pair of cloud-shaped sunglasses. She had flopped forward onto the table almost as soon as she had sat down, the plate of maple-syrup topped pancakes sitting untouched beside her. I was tempted to nudge her with a hoof, but I figured ‘just let her sleep’. The both of us had stayed up the night before, as Bright Stream had insisted on taking a group out for a night-time hike. In the Everfree forest. Cobblestone had volunteered as well as Vig and I, but he was somehow as full of energy as always. And wearing a, frankly, odd knit sweater. It was a bright violet, with little crocheted blue butterflies flying across it. I didn’t have a problem with it, it was just odd on him, contrasting his reptilian eyes and sharp teeth. Plus the blue crocheted beret on his head was sitting at a disconcerting tilt.

I gave up on my pancakes, of which I had only eaten half, and were now cold. Why had I opted to do that hike? It hadn’t been all night, but the forest was Twilight-damned hair-raising after dark. And the part I remembered with what may have been the most terror, the silhouette of a mare, a familiar mare, standing at the edge of the forest with glinting eyes and a mane flowing eerily in the biting wind. Foggy Bramble. Her words had echoed in my head at that moment.

‘You shouldn’t be leaving your cabin at night. The Everfree becomes especially dangerous when night falls’

And those same words had repeated in my head throughout the hike. When we finally got back, the words had followed me into my dreams. Resulting in a night of terrible sleep. Oof.

“Goooooood morning Campers!” I slowly turned to the front of the hall. 

The platform that was usually constructed just for the Cutie Mark Express had been moved to the front of the hall, and put to good use by the Group Leaders, one of whom was standing on it, shouting to the rest of the hall. It was the griffon, Gybh, I think her name was? With a cheerful mustard-yellow poncho and another flower crown, this one made of large paper daisies.

“I hope you had a restful night’s sleep, because today we are in for so many more exciting activities! First, we have pottery with Foggy Bramble out in the craft studio, stitching in here with Crimson Thorn, an obstacle course outside with Bright Stream-“

A collective groan rose up from the lunch hall at this, and Gybh waited patiently for it to finish, before continuing.

“-and I’ll be taking a group for campfire storytelling!” She declared jubilantly.

Vig raised her head at that, blinking blearily. Her sunnies were askew on her face, and the hood of her, well, hoodie was pulled up over her mane, which stuck out at odd angles under the hood.

“Aight. I’m going for spooky campfire stories. Who’s with me?” She said sleepily.

“Jeez Vig, what’s got you so tired?” I asked.

“When my sleep schedule gets disrupted, my sleep schedule gets disrupted.”

“Not really an explanation, but ok I guess” I muttered.

Turning to Cobblestone, I saw that he was grinning excitedly. 

“Campfire stories?” 

“INDEED! I shall be a BARD!” He proclaimed.

“Alright then. We’ll all do it together.” 

Vig faceplanted back onto the bench with a sigh. 





It had rained overnight, evident in the crunch of ice under Gybh’s talons in every step. Granted, it was only a thin layer over a powdery expanse of snow, but it did crunch.

And it crunched, over and over, as she worked it in her talons, watching the fire flicker hopefully in front of her. The campers were still in the lunch hall, deciding what activities they wanted to do. Leaving Gybh out in the snow, with a slowly dwindling campfire, and nothing to do but wait. A thought occured to her, and she reached up to touch her flower crown, making sure it was still intact. The paper daisies used to make it were pretty fragile, even for a winter-blooming flower.

Gybh could see the obstacle course from her position, Bright Stream was perched on one of the ropes, smoothing his mane in what appeared to be a hoofheld compact mirror. Bright was always so self-conscious, even if he tried to be confident. She knew he still blamed himself, even if Incident 031D had happened years and years ago; eight years to be exact. Tartarus, the memory was still fresh in the front of her mind.

Shaking her head, Gybh smiled and turned to throw a bundle of kindling into the flames. They roared back to life with her offering, licking gleefully at the stones ringing the edge of the pit. Light and laughter spilled out of the lunch hall as the heavy doors swung open, and a crowd of fillies and colts drifted out, separating to their chosen groups. A steady rivelet of ponies walked on towards Gybh, so she put on her best smile, and threw another bundle of tinder in the campfire.

Campfire stories was always one of Gybh’s favourite activities. The sheer amount of creativity that went into some of the stories was enough to have earned more than one cutie mark during all her experience at the camp. 

The fire was surrounded by logs, cut in half and polished to make seats around the campfire. They had been a gift from a colt who’d found his talent for woodworking at the camp, and had served their purpose dutifully ever since. And now a new set of campers took their seats, making small talk and sitting with their friends. Ten fillies, colts, and halflings gathering around the fire, ready to try for a talent in storytelling.

“Hello and welcome, lovely ponies! Thanks for choosing to do campfire stories here with me! And to start off, I’ll go first, give you an example. Have you ever heard the legend of The Clockwork Witch? No? Then let me begin…”





The Clockwork Witch

It was a dark, stormy night. The wind howled and bit at the dark castle, looming high on a cliff top, lightning forking and striking the spires.

Inside the castle, behind the stained glass window of the highest turret, was a mare. She was cruelly beautiful, and beautifully cruel. Her coat was black as pitch, and her mane brassy and shiny like copper. Her eyes shined with the light of forgotten knowledge, though they were as obsidian orbs in her skull. She had no mark upon her flank, save for a single image: A clockwork heart. It wasn’t her cutie mark, but had simply appeared one day, her actual mark fading into nothingness soon after.

When she smiled, she showed titanium teeth, and when she laughed, it was high-pitched, metallic and hollow. When she cried, it was not tears, but oil flowing from her eyes. She couldn’t scream, not anymore. When she did, it came out as a weird clicking, clacking noise, like machinery breaking.

She had once been a normal pony, just like you or me. That was before the clockwork heart had appeared on her, mirroring the change that had been made within, a heart of cogs and pistons, that couldn’t beat in a rhythm or have blood flow through it. Not anymore. 

Why did she have a heart of gears and metal? What did she do? How was she still alive? In truth, she wasn’t. A hollow shell of metal, lies, and pure, uncontrollable, magic.

It was this magic that kept her heart going. This magic that had made her a cruel shell of a mare. This magic which with she tinkered every day, drinking bubbling potions and screeching eldritch curses. Curing plagues and hexing the innocent. Communicating with towering golems and breathing out noxious gases. Laughing, crying, grinning, and snarling. But never truly alive, beyond the foul magics she used to enact her dark will on the world. 

Living but not living, a breathing but not breathing, alive but terribly, irrevocably dead. A clockwork witch, in her fortress of dark magic and terror.

She patrolled her castle, hordes of rats, each with their own little clockwork ‘augmentations’ doing her every piece of bidding. The storm outside never stopped, constantly brimming with lightning and deep, booming thunder. Guards stood deathly still at all corners of the castle, steam-powered golems of obsidian marble and gleaming metal. She was in control. Of everything that entered the castle, at least. The ponies that entered never came out.

Her dungeons could always use a few more prisoners. The ponies ensnared within never lasted long enough.





Gybh finished her story with a cackle, taking note of the wide-eyed stares and blatant shock. Why were creatures always so shocked when she showed off her love of the macabre? Didn’t everycreature like a little horror, no matter how cliché’d it was? Maybe she should stop wearing so many bright colours. 

“Ok then! With that little taste of what we’re doing, who wants to go next?”

A filly with a plum coloured hoodie caught Gybh’s attention. She was asleep, her head lolled to the side and cloud-shaped sunglasses obscuring her eyes. But Gybh didn’t need to see her eyes to know she was asleep.

“Ok, the filly with the purple hoodie, you’re going next!” She announced.

“Huh- uh- what? Me? Um well.. uhhhh.” The filly awoke with a start, her head snapping forward and sunglasses sliding forward on her face.

“Uhm… uh, have you guys heard of the Jungle Of Venom? This is that story.”





Cobblestone wriggled in his seat, waiting for his turn. It had been eight ponies before him (and who he assumed was a half-zebra, based on her striped Mohawk), and he was more than ready to dazzle all of them with his story. The half-zebra finished her story with a shout, rattling the various gold bracelets and necklaces as she did so.

“And he was never seen AGAIN!”

The group clapped politely, even though it was, in Cobblestone’s opinion, pretty lacklustre. Nopony had gotten a cutie mark yet, and he was hopeful it would be his day, his time, his moment. This would be it. Time to shine!

“I’ll go next. I’ll bet you haven’t heard about The Gate of The Elysian Fields. It’s a very… interesting story. That is, if you think you can handle it!” He looked around in anticipation, only to get a few bored nods and half-hearted smiles. Vig was asleep again. Her story had just been a mindless bloodfest, like a twelve-bit-entry Friday Night Slasher Showdown at the local theatres. His was going to be so much better!





Lunchtime. Again. And not one bit richer in the cutie mark department. 

I picked at my meal, chatting with Cobblestone and Vig, but not really paying attention to anything. It was just small talk, anyway. 

I sighed. Campfire stories had been fun, but it had just turned into a competition to one-up each other’s scary stories. Group leader Gybh hadn’t exactly helped, what with her ‘clockwork witch’ story. Vig’s story had been survival horror. And a bloody story too. Cobblestone had told one about a stallion who made a deal with Tirek. Which, against all odds, had been pretty damn good. 

My ‘tragic romance between an alicorn and a mortal mare’ hadn’t been that good, but then again.

The hall fell silent, save for two voices, loud and bitter above the rest. I stopped talking, and turned to the direction of the voices. Foggy Bramble and Crimson Thorn.





“I CAN’T DEAL WITH YOU RIGHT NOW, BRAMBLE, I JUST CAN’T. JUST LEAVE ME THE BUCK ALONE!”

“OH, EX-CAH-YOOSAH-ME MISS HIGH AND MIGHTY THORN! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO MY CABIN ROOM, YOU HAD BETTER SHUT THE BUCK UP, AND SIT THE BUCK DOWN!”

“PLEASE, YOU AND ME BOTH KNOW IT WASN’T ME, BUT YOU WOULDN’T KNOW, YOU’RE JUST A STUPID MONGREL!”

“BACK THE BUCK OFF FOSSIL, I CAN SMELL YOUR LIES. DON’T THINK YOU CAN LIE TO ME, DUMBASS!”

“Stop it! Both of you stop it! Take your stupid rivalry OUT. SIDE. NOW. I’m not going to say this again, Crimson, Foggy, get out of this hall, and don’t come back until you’ve cooled the buck off!” 

Sage Mercy stepped in between the two of them. In all honesty, there had been only a few times she’d been so scared for her life before. But fighting in front of the children? Unacceptable. Unharmonious. She had only seen the two of them fight like that twice before. She’d had to step in both times, and both times she had slept with her doors and windows locked, her lights on, and her sheets up over her head. Sage knew that she’d do it again that night. It couldn’t be helped, really, and the deadbolt on her door was just anther price of evidence testifying to this.

She shepherded the bickering mares out the door, throwing an apologetic look to Bright Stream over her shoulder. He nodded appreciatively back at her. Sage pushed the pair a few steps further, before retreating back to the lunch hall and slamming the doors.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, BRAMBLE! WHY, IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU-”

Sage put her hooves over her ears, and walked quickly out of earshot of the ponies beyond the door. 

Let the two fight it out. Let them settle their score, and intervene (again) if it came to blows. It’d be safer with them out there, and all the campers inside. Worst case scenario: they kill each other, and the camp hires less… dangerous employees. 

It’d be ok. It was just another tiff with no longstanding effects. 

At least, Sage Mercy hoped it would be. Time to leave lunch and set up the floodlights around the Residential Nurse’s Cabin. She could eat her daisy sandwich later.
> Meetings and Greetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


To: Secretary Honey Tongue
Re: you.


Mr Tongue, it has come to my attention that not a single one of my letters to Scootaloo has come to her desk. Those letters were of a sensitive manner, Honey. Your conduct towards me and my associates has also been bucking awful not exemplary. I hope that in the future, you aren’t such an ass are less troublesome to associate with. I also hope that next time I send a Celestia-damned letter, you don’t bucking shred it and mail the shredded remains back to me. And on a different note, I would like to schedule a private meeting with your boss, Scootaloo. And for the love of Celestia, DO NOT SHRED THIS BUCKING LETTER

Regretfully, 

Applebloom Apple.






Three weeks before

Crimson Thorn lay on her back, the ceiling above her seeming to blur as tears spilled out of her eyes. The floor was cold and unforgiving under her, and several opaque packs were strewn across the floor around her. Crimson gripped one of those packs in her magic, occasionally bringing it up to her mouth to drink. The door to the room was shut and locked, the curtains were closed, and the lights were off. Not that she needed any lights, and she couldn’t have somecreature seeing her like this. If somecreature had seen her in such a state, they surely would have had a fit, or fainted. 

Two long, sharp fangs hung down from her upper jaw, and a similar set of canines jutted up from below. Crimson’s eyes were a deep, blood-red, and slitted. The charm bracelet was off, the glamour it carried no longer affecting Crimson. And so she displayed her true visage; that of a full-fledged Vampony. The packs scattered around the room were designed to, and had once carried blood. Blood that she was now drunk on, crying her eyes out on the floor of her room alone. 

Vamponies. Once thought only to be a myth, and still widely considered to be just mass hysteria that had somehow reached the princess. Ponies infected with Vampirism, unable to step foot outside for fear of the sun, only able to drink blood, altered irreparably beyond the common equine, and unable to return to the normalcy of their past lives. Crimson was lucky, with a charm bracelet enchanted to hide her nature, and the Vampiric talent of Sunwalking, able to walk among the living without being burnt by the rays of the sun. Garlic, stakes, grave dirt and mustard seeds still hurt though, and food rotted within an instant of placing it in her mouth. Only those with the Vampiric ability of Edax could eat mortal food.

Crimson took another swig from the pack, letting the dark liquid flow into her mouth with abandon. It tasted like the light of The Elysian Fields liquified and brought down by the angels in the form of a blood pack. Must have been an -O. With a disappointed sigh she tossed the pack aside as it ran empty. Crimson reached out with her magic, searching for another one. Too much blood gave a Vampony a pleasant buzz, and light-headedness. It was like being drunk, minus the awful taste.

The things Foggy had said were still fresh in her brain, even though it had been half a day ago. It was mostly stuff about being a ‘fossil’ or ‘old’. Crimson was thirty-eight. She’d been thirty-eight for forty years now. But the was one thing that really stuck was ‘you should have been killed in The Night Wars’.

She’d been there. Unlived through The Night Wars. Fought in them, even. That glorified feud had ended more good beings than she could count, and was ultimately fruitless. A huge series of wars, fought in the shadows by the creatures of those shadows, against each other. Too many casualties. And for what? No-one had won. Twilight and her friends had stepped in and solved everything. It had been just that easy. 

Years and years of war, conflict, pain and endings. Solved by six intrepid ponies and a dragon.

Yeah. It stung, alright.

Another fat tear ran down Crimson’s face. Her tears weren’t actually water anymore. Just excess plasma. One of the things she missed most about mortality was mortal tears. Salty beads of water rolling down her face. It was a bit contrived, but it was something she missed. Not having a reflection was also pretty terrible, especially when you dyed your mane on the regular.

Why couldn’t she just cry like a normal pony?

She searched with her magic, frowning, before wiping away her tears and sitting up. Crimson’s eyes glowed slightly in the darkness, allowing her to see in the dark. The only other source of light in the room was the faint ambience of the mini fridge. A mini fridge that sat empty. The packs that were littered around the room were empty. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. No scent. No blood. 

This was a problem. 

No, this was more than a problem. This was probably going to be catastrophic. With no supply, Crimson would have to resort to feeding in the Everfree forest. The alternatives were unbearable; starve, or feed on another mortal.

Disaster loomed ominously on the horizon, Crimson was sure of it.





I cautiously stepped out of the cabin, my hooves sinking into the powdery snow. I looked around warily. Seeing nothing out of the norm, I sighed with relief and strode forward through the snow. 

“AHA! THERE YOU ARE! IT SHALL BE A SNOWBALL FOR YOU!” A voice shouted from the roof behind me. 

A freezing ball of ice and sleet hit my flank with an audible ‘pt’. I turned, wide-eyed to see the colt I had been afraid to see: Cobblestone. Another snowball lifted itself off the roof beside him, encased in a field of dark grey magic.

‘pt’

‘pt’

‘pt’

More snowballs hit me as I turned and ran. With a flap, I extended my wings and took off, trying to get as far away as possible from the thrower of the snowballs.

There! The lunch hall seemed like a lighthouse, a refuge from a storm. The doors swung open as another pony entered, and I swooped to fit into the doorway, before dropping to the floor inside. Unfortunately, a bench blocked my trajectory. I hit my side; not hard, but not exactly softly; on the edge of the bench. The air was forced out of my lungs, and I slid to the floor.

“Moonbeam? You good? The door swung shut behind me, and I turned to see the pony I’d just flown over. Vig.

I wheezed, trying to regain my breath. I shook my head slowly at Vig, trying to make her understand.

“Do you need me to get a Group Leader?” She asked.

I shook my head, a bit quicker this time. Breathing was steadily getting easier, and my chest was beginning to hurt less.

“Well, uh, if you say so…”

I nodded at her, before dragging myself to my hooves. Air flowed freely into my lungs, now, and few times before had it tasted so sweet.

“Prob- hah probably don’t go outside. Cobbl- Cobblestone’s out there with hah snowballs” I forced out. Speaking hurt.

“You sure you’re all good?” Vig asked again.

“Mhm”

“You wanna get breakfast now?”

“Mhmm”

One of the fun things about being a pegasus was larger, less easily damaged lungs. Which meant having the wind knocked out of you wasn’t as much of a problem. Although, hollow bones were easier to break. You win some, you lose some.

Breakfast. My second favourite meal of the day, after morning tea. And it just so happened that breakfast today was waffles and ice-cream. The food budget for this place must’ve been pretty good. When Vig and I finally got our plates of steaming waffles, and were about to sit down, a figure appeared at the door. 

“YOU HAVE ESCAPED MY POWER, BUT NOT FOR LONG! IT SHALL BE SNOWBALLS FOR THE LOT OF YOU!”

Cobblestone. Levitating a pile of carefully-rolled snowballs in the air beside him. I ducked under the bench, pulling my scarf up over my head and snagging a few waffles on the way down.

“Uhh… Moonbeam? What’s happening? Why is-“

‘pt’

Vig was cut off as a snowball hit her square in the face. It would have been comical if the memory of snowballs hitting my own flank hadn’t been so fresh in my mind. With a shrug, she ducked under the bench with me. I offered her a waffle, which she accepted.

Shrieks and the odd scream from above was all that I could garner from the carnage above. It was a good a guess as any, but I thought Cobblestone was acting out like this because he didn’t get a cutie mark in storytelling. Indeed, though his story had been, in my opinion, the best, it hadn’t earned him a special talent etched onto his flank. I was beginning to doubt whether he could get one at all, despite his insistence that he not only could, but definitely would on this camp. He was half-dragon, and dragons certainly didn’t get cutie marks.

“BOW BEFORE MY ICY MIGHT! FOR I AM COBBLESTONE, THE CHILLINGLY POWERFUL!”

Cutie mark or no, he still had that dramatic flair. I hesitantly peeked out at the carnage happening above the bench. Most ponies had come to their senses, like me, and were hiding under the benches. Some, like Bright Stream and a few others, had decided to fight back, sometimes using Cobblestone’s own snowballs against him, sometimes making their own. A select group had actually decided to join him, mostly just unicorns and other magic-wielders.

While still above the bench, I decided to grab my plate, which still had one waffle and the ice-cream still on it. 

‘pt’.

And got a snowball for my troubles. I still managed to secure the plate, waffle and and ice-cream, though, and I brought it back under the bench with me.

The chaos had to end soon, right?





The chaos showed no sign of stopping, or ending soon, as Vig and Moonbeam huddled under the bench. Vig was honestly considering making a break for it, but each time she’d tried, she’d been met with snowy fury.

At least Vig had been able to get her breakfast, however cold it now was. And Moonbeam wasn’t bad company. The last few times she had tried to escape, snowballs had been the result, but as the fight wore on, it seemed inevitable.

“You wanna try to make another break for it?” She asked

“Well, I’m willing to give it another try. We can’t stay under here much longer.”

“On three?”

“One…”

“Two…”

“THREE!”

Vig climbed quickly out from under the bench, vaulting over the seat and sprinting to the door. 

‘pt’

‘pt’

‘pt’

Snowballs hit her from every angle as she ran, but the door was so close now, she couldn’t stop. Vig could hear Moonbeam just behind her, sprinting just as she was. The door was ten hoofsteps away, now it was nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

And then they were over threshold, away from the messy carnage of the lunch hall, and out into the snowy landscape of the camp. No more snowballs hurtling towards her. It was peaceful.

“So, where do we go from here?” Her pegasus friend asked.

“Ugh, can we go anywhere away from my cabin? Crimson Thorn’s locked in her bedroom. Been crying since the early hours.” 

“Yeah, ok. What’d Foggy say to her, anyways? Must’ve been pretty bad.”

Vig nodded absentmindedly. Where could the two of them go? The Everfree was a big no-no, the lunch hall was off the table, and her cabin wasn’t exactly ideal. The craft studio? Probably locked. Moonbeam’s cabin? Maybe.

“Hey Moonbeam? We could go to your cabin, you know.”

“Eh, why the Tartarus not. It’s kinda bland though. Birch wood everywhere. I mean, it feels like eating milk-dipped bread just looking around!” They explained.

“Hey! Don’t discount BreadMilk!”

Moonbeam let out a deep sigh and looked down, before looking back up at Vig. “Please. Kill me or something. AND NEVER  MENTION BREADMILK TO ME EVER AGAIN, VIG!”

She chortled before saying in a stage whisper; “BreadMilk…”





in the afternoon of that day

After the events of the morning, the Group Leaders had decided to let the campers have the afternoon off. Gybh sat alone on the back deck of the Palm Cabin, which overlooked the lake, and was pretty nice. A book sat in her lap, long abandoned in order to gaze at the beautiful lake. Even though it was… partially frozen? It was covered in a paper-thin layer of ice in the places that weren’t completely frozen over and covered in piles of snow. 

“Hey Gybh, got a minute?” Foggy Bramble. Hopefully about to apologise for the display at lunch yesterday.

“Yep!” She turned to face Foggy with her customary smile stretched wide upon her face.

“So, with next week being… what it is and all, do you reckon you could… damn, how do I say this. I need you to keep me locked up somewhere for all the nights of next week.” 

Ah. That wasn’t what she was hoping for, but it was most definitely a good idea. The last time the moon had risen full over the camp while Foggy had been there… hadn’t ended so well.

“Sure! You have a place in mind? Like a homey cave, or like the craft studio?”

Foggy laughed nervously. This probably wasn’t good. 

“What about the Staff Basement? I mean, we aren’t using it for anything right now.”

Oh dear. The Staff Basement. Probably definitely haunted, but dead bolted and discreet… it’d do. Gybh couldn’t imagine being locked down there without a chill running down her spine. The only light was a bulb hanging from the ceiling, which flickered like it was having a seizure, and the floor was nothing more than bare ground. No-one stored anything down there anymore, and Gybh was certain that once all the current staff moved on, it’d fade into obscurity; a campfire story, nothing more than a legend. And a spooky one at that.

“Ok. If you’re comfortable being locked down there all night, I can do that for you.” She said finally.

“Don’t feel too bad about it, I’m probably lucky not to remember most of the night. Especially down in that basement.” Foggy’s voice dropped to a low mutter as she spoke the last sentence.

“Oh, and by the way, sorry about yesterday. Me and Crimson shouldn’t fight as much around the kids, but it can’t be helped sometimes.”

There it was. The apology. Gybh smiled and nodded to herself. She’d been right about what Foggy would say, even if she was also technically wrong. 





The day was over. Twilight’s sun had sunk low beneath the horizon, leaving her moon to rise, nearly full, and hang low in the sky. I couldn’t sleep, and not wanting to go outside at this hour, I was sitting on my bed, staring out the window. Cobblestone snored, as I discovered, very loudly. It had been him keeping the whole cabin awake for hours the last few nights. His snoring was part of why I couldn’t sleep. But it wasn’t that bad. What was really keeping me up was the thick gloom lurking outside the window in the form of night. Every so often, I’d catch a glimpse of movement, just beyond the tree line.

And once. Just once, did I see something that kept me up. It was only for a moment, a split second, but I know what I saw.

A pair of eyes, bright, incandescently, glowingly red. The pupils were but slits, but not like those of Cobblestone’s or any other creature I’d ever seen. The eyes were… wrong. Unnatural, like a fleeting look at the monsters that lurk under foal’s beds. An ephemeral espy of something far darker than I was supposed to see.

I didn’t sleep well. Tartarus, I barely slept at all. My thoughts kept churning and swirling, coming up with increasingly darker explanations for the eyes. Every time I looked out at the Everfree, it seemed to be brimming with sinister red eyes, staring out at me. 

When I couldn’t keep my own eyes open any longer, my dreams were filled with a thick haze of smoke and red, red eyes.
> I couldn’t lose you. But I did.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Incident report: 032A
To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom
Re: My actions. 


Grand Chancellor, I must offer my most sincere, utmost apologies for my dreadful actions. It’s actually Foggy Bramble’s fault, if you think about it. I drank the last of my supply thanks to her and look what happened. I accept any and all punishment for my actions. If you cannot forgive me, then I accept my fate, whether it be community service, or a dark, easily forgotten spot in the Royal Dungeon. 

And if you see the poor filly, you know the one I mean, please. Tell her I’m sorry. I truly am. She should have had a shot at life. I cannot stress how apologetic I truly am.

Warm regards from an unfortunately cold heart,

Crimson Thorn






“Isn’t this jacket just the best? It’s warm, cosy, fluffy…”

“No. It’s not. You wear it just to spite me, I know it. The colour offends me on a visceral level, Moonbeam. It makes me want to rip my eyes out just thinking about it!”

“Awww, is little Stoney offended? How sad.”

“Shut up, Vig. Tell me you aren’t deeply antagonised by it’s very existence!”

My jacket. A topical point of discussion, as it turned out. Cobblestone hated it with a burning passion, and Vig thought it was cool. Probably because he hated it so much. It wasn’t exactly dragon hide, or made of a pony’s skin, or anything that would usually assault the sensibilities, but it was a beautiful, ethereal light blue. I didn’t get why he hated it so much, unless he had a specific thing against Star Spider weave. The reason I had like it in the first place was the special qualities of such a fabric, particularly it’s glow-in-the-dark properties. 

“Personally, I think the jacket is just great! Don’t know about you though…” Vig snarked at him.

“I DESPISE IT” Cobblestone declared, slamming his hooves against the bench for emphasis. Our plates rattled as he did so.

It was a nice jacket. Like a deep midnight lightened and desaturated to an airy light blue, shimmering like starlight reflected on a river. Several patches had been stitched on, my favourite being a neon-green circle with a UFO emblazoned upon it. The inside of the jacket was fleecy wool, like a cloud, except actually fluffy, unlike a cloud’s temperamentally semipermanent solidity.

“I can’t believe you, Sauvignon! The jacket hurts my soul!”

Now it was Vig’s turn to be offended; “Hey! Don’t use that name with me! Twilight, you remind me of Mother.”

“I don’t get why you hate this jacket so much, Cobblestone. It keeps me warm, it glows in the dark, and it’s got cool patches. What’s the problem?” I asked him, pretending to ignore the vehement glare Vig was giving him.

“The problem? The problem? The PROBLEM is it’s EXISTENCE in my general area! It shall be the death of me, the death!”

“Well, I’m not taking it off.”

“I’m with Moonbeam. It’s a nice jacket. Why do you hate it, Stoney?”

“Stop calling me that! It’s embarrassing!” he grumbled between clenched teeth

“How about… no.” Vig spat.

“Fine. Sauvignon Glamour.” He hissed back at her.

“I hate you more than you hate that jacket right now.”

“I hate you times two. Hah! That’s twice as much hate, Sauvignon!”

The jacket was honestly just not that bad. I hoped those two fighting wouldn’t become a regular occurrence. Both were valued (friends? Associates? Ponies I knew?) ponies I knew. 

“Can you guys quit it? It’s not that bad of a jacket, Cobblestone, but it’s not that great either, Vig. And for the record, I’m still not going to take it off. It’s cold today!”

“Well, I mean, we did get some rain last night, so yeah. It’s cold.” Vig mused

“I know. I was up pretty late last night.” I replied

“Doing what, spying on the rest of us while we slept?” Cobblestone asked jokingly.

“No, no, just couldn’t sleep.” I let out a yawn to accompany my statement.

“I’m with you there. It almost felt like there was something moving about in the Everfree. Something dark… something dangerous…” Vig’s tone dropped to a low murmur, and she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Wait- you saw the eyes too?” I asked, hope rising in me. That meant it wasn’t just my imagination!

“What? No. I didn’t see anything. I’m just trying to get at you.” She laughed.

“Speaking of things trying to get at ponies, do you know what’s trying to get at me?” Cobblestone started

“Is it the jacket?” Vig and I said in unison.

“IT’S THAT EVIL JACKET! THE ROOT OF ALL TERRIBLE THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE!”

And we were back to the jacket. I was actually considering taking it off, despite what I said. Too much grief caused by a garment of any kind.





Foggy Bramble paced the room, thinking. It was less of a ‘room’ and more of a dingy space surrounded on all four sides by slowly rotting wood and the floor was bare earth, but a room nonetheless. She’d had to turn the light off because of how it flickered, but she didn’t need it to see, anyways. Her pupils were faintly illuminated, allowing her to see through the gloom.

Small slivers of sunlight filtered through the boards that made up the walls, and hopeful weeds had sprung up in the corners. It’d do. The walls may have been weak, but she was sure they’d hold up for at least a night. The door to the Staff Basement was nice, thick concrete. It’d been installed since Incident 031D… happened. That’d definitely hold up. And not to mention the only handle was on the other side of the door. Yeah, the Staff Basement was a passable solution. As long as the walls held up.

Even then, Foggy Bramble could feel it. The pull, deep within her bones, the snarling beast sleeping just beneath the surface. Giving in, letting her out was as natural as breathing. Foggy could hold her breath for as long as she could, but eventually she’d have to breath again. And with the Winter Moon Festival as close as it was, a week of full moons, she could feel the other stir within her. With luck, she’d be able to keep it at bay until then. 

Foggy would be the one in control, at least til the full moon. She had to be. As tempting as it was, to just let herself go, to release her, it wasn’t even a risk. It was a full-blown tragedy in the works.

“You still down there?” Gybh called from at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah. I’m coming back up now. This’ll work” she replied, making her way to the stairs.

“Good. Good. Is there a specific time I have to bring you down here or…”

“Before the sun sets. Lock me down here before the sun sets. It’ll be safe to let me out when the sun’s back up.”

“Do you want me to get up a bit earlier so I can come get you first thing?”

“I mean, if it’s no trouble, of course.”

Gybh nodded. Foggy trotted back up the stairs quickly, doing her best to mind the broken step third from the top. Gybh was fidgeting nervously, staring into the darkness of the basement with a look of mild fear edged with horror.

Everypony remembered Incident 031D. How could they forget? Every night, for weeks on end, the Group Leaders had heard scratching from the other side of the Staff Basement’s door. The oldest of the Group Leaders, Blunt Hatchet, had always dismissed it. He had been employed in the camp the longest, and so Bright Stream, Gybh, Crimson Thorn, and Foggy Bramble trusted him. There’d been another pony employed around the same time as him. Cayenne. Cayenne was a hothead, trusting nopony, and forever breaking The Guidelines. It’d been Cayenne who’d finally opened the Staff Basement’s door one fateful night, when he just couldn’t stand the noises anymore. 

Turns out it hadn’t been nothing. And Blunt Hatchet’s axe wasn’t as harmlessly blunt as he had claimed it to be. A Zombie, pushing back the veil of death, every night, in order to seek revenge on it’s killer. Scratching and clawing fruitlessly at the rotted wood of the door, every single night. The camp had been shut down for weeks, while a murder investigation took place. The tabloids ran story after story after never-ending story on the camp. Endless amounts of forensic ponies and mediums had been called in to the crime scene. That was what it had turned into: a crime scene. 

And when the perpetrator was finally caught, it was only because of another murder he’d committed, not a month later. Cayenne’s body had been found, hacked to pieces by a crude axe, and spread around the Everfree. And who was the killer, but Blunt Hatchet. He had been sloppy with his second victim, only remembering to dismember him in order for there not to be another Zombie on the loose. Oh the storm the media had whipped up at this. The sale of trinkets claiming to ward off dark magic had nearly tripled in response. Blunt Hatchet was tried, and found guilty without a shred of doubt; sentenced to life in the Royal Dungeons in the crystal caves beneath the palace.

When the law enforcement had moved on, and the media had found another event to obsess over, the higher-ups had quietly replaced the door with something much stronger, and a little more soundproof. Cayenne’s funeral had been a sad affair. Quiet, but sad. Thankfully, the paparazzi knew to keep their distance, and photography wasn’t allowed. Not a dry eye had been left after the service.

Even with the dark past, the Staff Basement would do well to keep Foggy Bramble out of trouble for the next week.

But Foggy was still pretty glad to step over the threshold, and lock the door behind her. 





It had been a full morning, with ice-skating on the now fully-frozen lake, and calligraphy in the craft studio. And those had just been the activities Sauvignon Glamour had chosen to do. 

Cobblestone had had to be sent to the camp nurse, for the second time in a week, after he somehow managed to crack the ice while skating, and falling in the lake. Again. Into the part of the lake sectioned off because of the leeches. Again.
Leaving Vig and Moonbeam to sit without him at lunch. 

“Hey, so, about what you said this morning…” Vig started

“What did I say this morning? I can hardly remember half the things I say.”

“About the ‘eyes’. What’d you see last night?”

Moonbeam’s eyes widened, and she dropped her sandwich. They quickly recovered and gave Vig a silent shake of the head.

“Can we not talk about it here? I don’t really think it’s safe to talk too much about it. You never know which walls have ears!”

“Ok. Quit the ‘conspiracy’ gag. It’s not funny, and I think you know that.” Vig replied, unintentionally loud.

This drew a few pairs of eyes, which had Moonbeam shooting a quick glare at Vig.

“Fine, fine. Where do you want to spill the beans, then?”

They leaned in and whispered “8:00 tonight. Back deck of your cabin.”

Vig rolled her eyes. She’d never liked doing things all ‘cloak and dagger’-y. But if her (maybe) friend thought it was too important to say out in the open, then it might have some merit to do things the ‘cloak and dagger’-y way.

“5:30 tonight. Back deck of my cabin.”

“7:00.”

“6:30”

Moonbeam smiled. “Deal.”

“Ok, but can you drop the whole ‘conspiracy’ act now? I’m trying to eat my sandwich here!”





The back deck of the Mahogany Cabin. 6:23.

Dinner was in full swing over in the not-so-aptly named lunch hall. The cabin was near-silent, and Crimson Thorn was almost certain she was all alone.

‘Almost’ certain because she could smell blood. The blood of a creature who’s heart still beat. And it smelled delicious. Which was why she was currently locked in the Staff Bedroom, doing the best she could to ignore the dryness slowly building up at the back of her throat. That, and the soft numbness slowly creeping up on her mind. Crimson hadn’t had anything to drink since the night before, and she was thirsty.

Only a few more minutes. Hoping, praying to whatever deity heard her that the being would come to it’s senses and run away. One minute passed. Two. The creature, whatever it was, was still there. Three. A cold sweat was beginning to run down Crimson’s forehead. Four. A dull ache began in her canines. Five. The charm bracelet was freezing to the touch, and so she yanked it off, flinging it across the room. Six. Her horn started to buzz with magic, red sparks flying from it. Seven. 

It was too much. Crimson couldn’t hold it back any longer. She reached out with her magic and quietly unlocked the door.

It was agony, being this close to a creature of warm, delicious blood, but she couldn’t help herself. The quiet, pervasive music of the hunt throbbed in her long-empty veins. Tonight, she would feed.





6:31

I probably wasn’t late. At least, I hoped I wasn’t late. Vig hadn’t shown up for dinner, and so I had eaten a few hearty mouthfuls and set off for the Mahogany Cabin. And I’m pretty sure I was late.

In a swift wingbeat, I launched myself off the ground and soared towards the cabin. It was at least 20 hoofsteps away on foot, but I could get there in under a minute while in the air. 

As I passed over the roof of the cabin, I set myself down on the thick tiles with a ‘thump’.

I walked with a brisk trot to the back of the cabin. Were those voices I heard? Vig’s I recognised, but the other, a rasping growl of a voice dripping with what I could only describe as hunger, I’d never heard before. 

“Why-why do y-you look like th-that?” Vig sounded afraid. Very afraid.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me.” The rasping voice pleaded.

Uh-oh. This probably wasn’t good.

I stopped just before the end of the roof, and crouched, quietly creeping to the edge of the tiles. The owner of the raspy voice looked like a pony. That was my first thought. My second was that it couldn’t be. It had pitch-black hair and a coat only a shade paler than the snow blanketing the ground. It had a pair of monstrously huge fangs hanging down from it’s upper jaw. A pair of similarly sharp fangs came up from it’s bottom jaw. And then I saw the eyes. The same eyes I glimpsed last night. The ones that kept me up all night.

I felt frozen, rooted in place. My muscles tensed, and my mouth wrenched itself open for a scream that never came. I couldn’t move, could hardly breath. I couldn’t do anything when the world came crashing down around me.

The monster surged forward, latching onto Vig’s neck with those horrible, horrible fangs. She cried out, but nopony responded. I should have pushed it off her, fought it off, anything. But there was nothing I could do. I was stuck in place, frozen in time. 

There was nothing I could do as Vig’s eyes shut and she fell heavily onto the ground. 

There was nothing I could do as the thin, barely visible lacework of veins beneath her coat disappeared. 

There was nothing I could do as the monster tore itself off her neck, and licked the blood off it’s muzzle.

THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO

THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO

THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO

I’m sorry, Sauvignon Glamour. There was nothing I could do.

The beast jolted forward suddenly, and a spark of life flared within it’s eyes. It stared down at the lifeless body of my friend in obvious horror. 

“nononononononononononono ohhhhhhhh nonono what have I done” it whispered hoarsely. 

Then, the hideous, awful, horrible monster stumbled back, before turning and jumping over the railing; disappearing into the thickly falling darkness of the Everfree.

My joints shook with a start, and I could move again. I propelled myself off the roof, landing messily next to Vig’s fallen form.

“Vig! No. No. This isn’t happening!” Tears erupted from my eyes and I shook her shoulders desperately.

“Please, Sauvignon Glamour! Please! Wake up!”

I rolled her over onto her back, feeling her wrist for a pulse. 

“Nononononono…”

There was no pulse. My breath was coming in short gasps now, and I could barely see through my tears.

She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be dead!

I almost didn’t notice it, but Vig’s beautiful golden hair was slowly changing. It was a few strands at first, and then small chunks. Soon, large sections of her hair were completely jet-black. I shook my head, and hurriedly wiped my tears away. It must have just been my imagination.

And then Vig shot straight up, her chest heaving with a deep gasp, and her eyes flung themselves open.

“VIG!” 

I wrapped her in a tight, if not awkward hug. Her breathing was irregular, and I couldn’t feel her heartbeat, but she appeared to be alive, and that was all that mattered to me in the moment.

“Sauvignon Glamour, don’t you ever scare me like that ever again” I murmured over her shoulder. 

She laughed weakly, leaning into the embrace. “So long as you don’t call me ‘Sauvignon Glamour’. Wh- what happened?”

I would have cried, then and there, if I wasn’t already.

“Yo- you died, Vig. You died.”

“Oh. Is that why you’re crying and hugging me?”

I nodded, and squeezed her tightly, before letting go and moving away.

I looked at her fondly. And then my heart dropped. Hanging off her upper jaw were two menacing fangs. Her eyes had changed from their vibrant plum to a bright, warning-sign red. In the place of normal pupils, were a pair of slits.

Vig frowned upon seeing my expression. “What’s wrong?”

“You have- you ha- YOU HAVE FANGS!” 

She hesitantly raised a hoof to her mouth, eyes wide. She barely brushed one of the oversized canines, and flinched.

“WHY DO I HAVE FANGS?”
> Isn’t the dark just beautiful?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applebloom took a deep sip of her tea, and sighed. It wasn’t the tea that bothered her, no. The tea was a nice oolong, and just the right temperature. What bothered her was the whole situation. 

With another sigh, she set down her tea and finally spoke; “Ah shoulda been here with better news, Sweetie Belle. But as it is, Incidents are only growin’ more frequent. Just a few years back, we had a murder. A full-on murder, Sweetie. An’ not just one a ‘em. Ah shoulda known it was high time to close up the camp. What with the Everfree bein’ so Celestia-damned close to the camp an’ all, it’s been a proper hub for Incidents.”

“Applebloom, you can’t just ‘close up’ the camp! It’s a major part of our legacy! Of all crusader’s legacies! What would Gabby think, Applebloom? And it can’t be that bad. Those murders were years ago. What’s got you all shaken up this time?” Sweetie pleaded.

“It ain’t a murder this time, but it might as well be. We had a young filly, with her whole life ahead ‘o her, bitten by a Vampony. A Celestia-damned Vampony, Sweetie. Ya can’t undo that kinda thing!”

Sweetie’s voice turned sharp and dangerous. “Now now, you don’t want to be using that tone when you talk about the denizens of the darker corners.”

“Ahaha… right. Sorry, Sweetie. Ah forget your… situation sometimes.”

“Don’t apologise to me. Now, you said there were two young ones affected by the Incident?”

“…yeah. Depending on whether or not ya believe my sister, the other one may have gotten it worse.”

“What, is she ‘dead’ too?”

“No.”

Applebloom took another sip of her tea. It was a little too sweet, she noticed. And just a little too cold. But she couldn’t complain. She finally got to talk to somepony about the latest Incident.





Sage Mercy had seen a lot throughout the years, heard a lot of outlandish stories made up to conceal the truth, and treated some truly bizarre cases.

She’d once had a young colt with a cragodile attached to his back left hoof, and a story that matched the strangeness of the situation. She’d had a filly with a watermelon somehow superglued to her horn. A half-hippogriff who’d ‘accidentally’ swallowed somecreature else’s glass eye. Sage Mercy had seen more than her fair share of weird.

But two fillies claiming a Vampony was hiding in the Everfree Forest, and that they bit one of them? Sage hadn’t seen that before.

But all the same, a grey pegasus came in, dragging along her friend, an alabaster earth filly with midnight-black hair (who Sage was sure she’d never seen before), in the early hours of the night, no less. The poor dear who’d been bitten was currently in one of the Clinic Rooms, along with her friend, who’d refused to leave her side.

Sage was by no means an expert on equine vampirism, but she did have a store of blood, and Vamponies drank blood, right? Yeah, she’d have to call in the resident expert. And in the meantime, she’d have to keep trying to get the afflicted filly to actually drink the blood. Which was way easier said then done.

And so now Sage stood outside the Mahogany Cabin, knocking relentlessly. The door finally flung itself open, revealing a tired and grumpy-looking Crimson Thorn. 

“What is it. Why are you here. What do you want from me?”

“Miss Thorn. I was wondering if you would assist me with a matter of importance.” It was clear from the tone Sage held that this was not a question.

Crimson yawned and nodded. “Let me grab my jumper.”

Sage stared at her stonily. “I was wondering if you would assist me with a matter of importance now.”

Crimson sighed, before walking out of the cabin, and shutting the door behind her. “If anything happens to the kids in my cabin while I’m gone, I’m putting the blame fully on you.”

“I see you didn’t notice that one of your charges is currently in my care then?”

Crimson paused, her face scrunching up almost minutely. Sage noticed, though. She was an expert at picking up on these kinds of things. But she didn’t say anything, rather just tucking that little piece of the puzzle away for later.

“What’s happened?”

“You see, Crimson, there is a specific reason I came to you.” the two of them were walking briskly through the snow now.

“Please tell me you don’t mean-”

“I’m afraid so. You’d best come quickly, Miss Thorn.”

Sage and Crimson arrived at the door to the Nurse’s Cabin. The Nurse’s Cabin was entirely different to the Residential Nurse’s Cabin, the former being the repurposed Beech Cabin. The door had been newly outfitted with a set of three seperate locks on the outside, and a set of deadbolts on all the windows. The only one with a key to the three locks was Sage Mercy, as she had been the one to install them. The keychain with all three keys now jangled noisily as it made it’s way through the locks, opening each one with a loud ‘click’. Finally, Sage was able to open the door, which she did so quickly.

Once the two of them were in the cabin again, Sage locked all three locks again, and slid the two deadbolts on the other side of the door shut.

“Why do you have all these locks? I’ve always wondered.” 

“The Everfree has some particularly dangerous creatures roaming within it. I took the liberty of assuring that nocreature who comes for healing is forced to stay longer than they originally should have.”

Sage led her guest to the room that was formerly the Beech Dorm, but had now been divided into three seperate Clinic Rooms. In the last one, furthest from the door and with no windows, skylights or any other form of natural light, was a pair of young ponies. The first one, and the one of most concern, was sitting up on the bed that occupied most of the room, while the second, her friend, was in a cushy green armchair in the corner. The pair idly chatted, but the talk stopped when Sage and Crimson walked into the room. The filly on the bed seemed to shrink into herself, and the one on the chair’s eye’s widened a fraction.

Sage trotted up to the poor dear on the bed, a smile ready on her face. 

“Hey sugar, how are you holding up? I’ve just got somepony else here with me. She’s a bit of an expert with your… condition.”

“What do you mean? My condition? I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again! I’m not a Vampony!” 

Sage turned to Crimson; “Oh dear. Crimson, can you take your bracelet off? Just for a moment?”

The other being sighed, before lighting up her horn and slowly sliding her silver charm bracelet off. Seeing Crimson like this was definitely not positive for the two fillies, the afflicted one jolting back like she’d been shocked, while her friend flared her wings and glared at Crimson.

“What? I know I’m not much of a looker but this feels like an overreaction” Crimson quipped. She sounded nervous.

“Well, if you being here’s not helping the poor dear, then you’ve got to be heading out, Miss Thorn.” 

“Ok. But if you have any questions, you can’t exactly ask Bright Stream or Gybh.”

Sage Mercy pinched her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. She was on her way to developing a proper migraine. 

“Fine. I’ll ask my questions in the next room over. Come.”





The room was dark, with only a few well-placed lamps, and the soft sunlight filtering in from the next room. Moonbeam was asleep, curled up in the green armchair in the corner. And Vig was at the edge of the bed, counting the minutes as the clock above the door ticked endlessly. The golden rays of sun that streamed slowly through the doorway tempted her, just asking her to touch them, to prove she wasn’t a Vampony. If something didn’t happen to distract her soon, Vig was definitely going to stick a hoof in it. Just to see. 

“How long have you been up?” Oh good, Moonbeam was awake.

“All night. You passed out pretty early.”

“How are you not dead right now?”

Vig laughed; “according to everypony, I have been since early last night!”

“Oof, sorry” they muttered.

“I mean, I can still eat food, so… I’m pretty sure I’m not a Vampony!”

“Oh, and we’re just glossing over your fangs?”

“…yes.”

“You’re going to stick a hoof in that sunlight to ‘prove’ you’re mortal, aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

“…please don’t. I don’t want to watch my friend burn.”

“Oh, so we’re friends?”

“I certainly hope so!”

Vig laughed again, louder this time. “Yeah, let’s say we’re friends.”

Moonbeam got up and stretched, before walking over to the door, almost seeming to bathe in the sunlight. Vig was about to follow them, but halfway to the door, she remembered the sun. 

“Wait, Moonbeam.”

“Please don’t step in the sun, I know you’re about to, but please for the love of Twilight don’t do it.”

“Look, the sun doesn’t do anything. See?”

Vig strode forward to the edge of the sunlight, before slowly raising a hoof…

Only to snatch it back with a hiss almost as soon as she’d stretched it out. The spot where the sun’s rays had touched it was glowing a sickly yellow, and small tendrils of steam rose up off the area.

“Damn that stings. I’m not doing that again” she shrilled.

And then it (figuratively) dawned on Vig. She had fangs. She couldn’t step in sunlight. She wouldn’t admit it, but there was definitely one less ‘blood bag’ than when Moonbeam went to sleep.

She was a creature of the night. A Nosferatu.

A Vampony.





I pushed my cup around aimlessly. The orange juice inside sloshed against the sides of the glass, filling in the silence around me. There was nopony else in the lunch hall, and I was indifferent. It was at least twenty minutes past breakfast and more than an hour until lunch. There was no plate of food in front of me, and barely any drink left in my cup.

Oh, and Vig was dead. Well, more ‘undead’ than ‘dead’, per say. The memory of her limp body, drained of blood and lifeless,  was still raw in my mind, providing an extra edge of horror to my every thought. I wasn’t hungry, and the thought of Vig, unable to step hoof in the sun, pacing the room with her monstrous fangs and bright red eyes shining in the dark wasn’t exactly comforting.

“Hey camper! You ready to take on the day?” Bright Stream called from the doorway.

“No. I’m good thanks. You go on without me.”

“Aww come on. We’re roasting marshmallows out here, and there’s a colt making up scary stories for us!”

That was probably Cobblestone. It sounded so nice, and I was sorely tempted to join in, but the memory of the previous night felt as if it was superglued to my mind.

I forced myself to smile as I replied; “Yeah, no. I’m ok. Have fun without me, though!”

He sighed, giving me one last hopeful smile, before stepping out again and letting the door swing shut behind him.

I slumped down onto the bench, a few tears making their cold paths down my cheeks. Vig wasn’t gone, so to say, but something had changed. I could only hope I’d get better as the day wore on. And I’d have to join in the activities at some point.

It’d be ok.

It’d be just wonderful.





The day had practically flown past for Foggy Bramble, activities blurring into each other.

It was only after everything was said and done did she hear about the latest tragedy. A young filly, cut down in her prime by a ruthless monster. A Vampony. Everypony else said it was a beast from the woods. Foggy knew better. The whole situation reeked of Crimson Thorn.

Every time the story had been told and retold by the staff, Crimson had been there, dispelling rumours of her involvement and quashing theories that so much as mentioned her. It was enough to make Foggy’s head hurt, the amount of times she’d seen Crimson that day. And of course that mare had been the one to advocate most heavily against telling the other campers what fate had befallen their peer. She’d won out, and apart from the poor filly who’d brought her friend in to Sage Mercy, none of the other fillies and colts were any the wiser.

With an indignant snort directed towards Crimson Thorn, no matter her current location, Foggy turned her thoughts from the events of the day. The world was so lovely at night. The stars were twinkling in the heavens high above, surpassed only in their brightness by the pale light of the moon. The moon was a waxing gibbous, a stark reminder of the week to come.

A week Foggy would spend her nights locked up in a dingy murder basement. Without getting to see the stars, feel the call of the moon, prowl the darkness, or any of the other things she whispered about in the back of her mind.

Maybe a little, tiny, shift wouldn’t hurt…

No. Foggy Bramble would not be swayed by the temptations of the other lurking in the dark corners of her head. It was bad enough with the Winter Moon Festival leaving the full moon bright in the sky for a whole week, but shifting? Letting go of her equinity? Just because? No. Nope. Uh-uh. Bad idea. Somepony was bound to get hurt.

‘but the night is just so beautiful’ the other crooned.

‘Just once, before we are forced to spend all our time in the shadows?’

‘You know you want to, Foggy Bramble. Let me out. Let us prowl the darkness, feel the wind in our fur, become whole under the moonlight!’

Her pleas were becoming harder to ignore. She hadn’t realised, but the forest outside her cabin staff room’s window looked just glorious that night. It might have been the snowflakes, like pale shards of moonlight, drifting solemnly through the air, or it might have been the other and her temptations warping reality through the mind’s eye.

That didn’t change the fact that the night was beautiful. Or that she desperately wanted to stroll through those woods. Or to feel the moon’s call upon her, like an enchantment. Maybe a little, tiny, shift wouldn’t hurt…

She’d have to go far into the Everfree before she did so, and even then she’d have to be careful not to alert anycreature of her presence. She’d have to stray far from the beaten paths of the forest, and avoid signs of life as much as she could. But, it was doable. It only took a moment to decide. 

The Everfree would gain one more dangerous creature that night. Foggy Bramble.





I sat quietly at the window, deep in thought. It must have been close to midnight, or not; I wasn’t sure. Yet again, I could not sleep. Although this time, there were no monstrous red eyes glaring out from the shadows, or subtle, creeping movements in the dark. Just a thick, foreboding silence. There was no birdsong, or the leathery whistle of bat wings. No strange noises out in the night, or creatures of said night calling to each other in strange sounds.

It was silent, beyond the window, like the calm before a storm. It had almost been silent all night.

Almost, because, not an hour ago, a bone-chilling howl had echoed through the woods, reaching the cabin loud and clear. A cold chill had shivered it’s way down my spine at the sound of it, and more than one pony in the cabin had turned over uneasy in sleep, if they didn’t awake with a start.

And there it was again, sparking curiosity more than fear now; that howl. At first I had put it down to timberwolves or a Canis Minor, but now, as it rang out again, I noticed something odd. There was a distinctly… equine quality to it, like it was a pony doing a very good job pretending to be a wolf, and not an actual wolf. I almost laughed aloud as the thought crossed my mind. Probably just a prank. 

Wait- there it was, again, louder and closer this time. Yep, there was definitely something about the sound that was a dead ringer for equine speech. I glanced over at Cobblestone’s bed. Empty. Yep, definitely a prank. One that was sure to end badly for him, if he was out in the forest at night.

I tried to get up off my bed as quietly as possible, before making my way to the Birch Dorm’s door, which led out into the hallway passing the Group Leader’s bedroom. I quickly slipped out the door, before holding my breath and listening. Another odd thing. There was no sounds coming from Group Leader Foggy Bramble’s room. No snoring, no rustling sheets, no almost-imperceptible sound of breathing. Maybe she was a silent sleeper? 

I shrugged it off and swiftly made my way to the front door, which creaked loudly as I pushed open. I paused, listening for any sound that somepony had heard me, before opening it all the way, and stepping out into the bleak world of night that awaited me beyond the cabin. I carefully pushed the door shut behind me, and set off; trudging through the thick snow.

I wished I had brought my scarf, or my jacket, or anything besides a set of boots and long socks. Oh, and my grey beanie was sitting lopsided on my head, but it didn’t do anything for the biting winds.

I slogged through the heavy layers of slushy wet snow, a light drizzle of rain throwing itself against me, but I kept going. Cobblestone was surely out there, trying to scare the rest of us, and he didn’t know the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Vig hadn’t, and I didn’t want what happened to her to happen to him.

And so I kept going, even as the rain turned from a light drizzle to a freezing shower, and snowflakes pelted down around me, icy cold. The rain finally slowed as I reached the tree line, crossing into the dark gloom of the Everfree.

The words of Foggy rang through my head once again. Her warning.

‘You shouldn’t be leaving the cabin at night. The Everfree becomes especially dangerous when night falls.’

But I was certain she was exaggerating. At least just a little.





Cobblestone stepped back into the cabin, blearily rubbing his eyes. It had been pretty stupid of him to leave his beret in the lunch hall, and also a pretty stupid idea to break in and get it back. 

But he’d done it. And now his beret sat cheerily on top of his head, and the lunch hall was down one window. Twilight was he tired. Cobblestone stumbled back through the hallway, before getting back into the dorm. Huh. Moonbeam’s bed sat empty. Maybe she’d left something in the lunch hall too.

He made his way over to his bed, before quickly dropping off to sleep. It’d be fine. He’d find out whether they got their stuff back from the lunch hall in the morning.





I struggled through a snowdrift, trudging deeper into the forest, my fear starting to rise. But I had to keep going. I could do something this time, I wouldn’t be frozen. Useless. I had to keep going.

Another howl, positively spine-chilling, sounded. Close to me. It sounded just so equine. The thought that it could be anything other than Cobblestone playing a prank didn’t cross my mind.

“Cobblestone? I know you’re out here! It isn’t safe! We need to go back to the cabin!” I yelled out into the darkness.

“Dude! You have to come back! You don’t know what’s out here!”

There! Silhouetted by the light of the moon was a figure. It was hard to see any other details, but I could tell it was a pony. Maybe a little tall for the one I was looking for, but there wasn’t anypony else it could have been. I walked towards him with a relieved smile on my face.

“Cobblestone! You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for you! Look, we need to head back-”

Two menacing eyes flicked open. They were slitted, like Cobblestone’s, but unlike his, the eyes seemed to glow. Not to mention, I couldn’t see the sclera. That was weird. And they were a verdant green, which was doubly weird because Cobblestone definitely had dark grey eyes…

Oh. Buck. That wasn’t Cobblestone. I backpedaled, my smile dropping. The being in front of me stalked forward, stepping into a stray shaft of moonlight. Definitely not Cobblestone.

It was like a pony, but twisted, and reminiscent of a beast. A thick layer of fur covered it’s coat, and in place of a tail of hair, was a proper tail, like that of a wolf. A thick mane as white as the snow surrounding us hung off it’s head, a reminder of the equine appearance of this creature. Where hooves were supposed to be were a set of paws bearing menacing claws. It’s lips were rolled back in a snarl, revealing a full mouth of razor-sharp fangs.

And the eyes. Oh, the eyes. Pitch-black sclera and dangerously slitted pupils, with glowing green irises.

The creature growled low in it’s throat, and I turned. And ran. I tried to open my wings, to fly away to safety, but they were locked at my sides. I desperately galloped as fast as I could, away from this beast. 

When I turned my head even slightly to the side, the creature was there, flanking me at every step. And worse, it seemed to be gaining on me. I forced air into my lungs, running harder, faster, than I ever had before. My heart pounded in my ears, and my entire body felt as if it was aflame. I couldn’t feel the harsh cold of winter anymore. My thoughts were jumbled, and my mind in shambles save for one notion: run.

And so I ran. I had no sense of direction, nor time. I just galloped as fast as I could possibly manage.

Every time I turned, it was behind me, getting closer and closer with every step. I could feel exhaustion creeping up on me, held at bay only by panic and sheer force of will. 

But it wasn’t enough. A thick, dark tree root arched out of the ground ahead of me. I barely noticed it and made no move to compensate. My back right hoof snagged, and the freezing ground rose up to meet me. I tried to get up, to keep running, but complete and utter exhaustion won out, and I just lay there, waiting for the killing blow.

I hoped it’d be quick. 

And then it was right behind me. Panting and snarling, but not nearly as depleted as I was. I rolled over, onto my back, ready to face what was surely my death head on.

It must have been a minute, but it felt like an eternity. And the beast made no move. Just standing there, looming over me. 

I shut my eyes. Hugged my hooves to my chest. Tried to calm my heart, which beat lightning-fast in my ears, like a war drum.

And then it bit down into my right shoulder. Hard. I screamed. Hot tears spilled out of my eyes. It felt like I could feel every one of it’s razor-edged fangs ripping through my flesh. A shooting pain blossomed through my shoulder, excruciatingly agonising. Like a flower, the pain bloomed and made me hurt in more ways than I thought I would ever experience. Blood spilled from the wound like a thousand miniature rivers making their way to the ground.

It bucking hurt.

The creature-no, monster ripped itself off my shoulder, tearing through nerves, tendons, and scraping bone. I screamed, again. It stood over me, baring those awful, awful fangs. Darkness seeped in at the edges of my vision. 

And then the monster bolted off into the forest. Presumably leaving me for dead. The lights of the stars shined too bright, and the moon burned my eyes. But then the lights stopped twinkling, high in the heavens above. The void filled my sight, and a cold breeze swept across my body. 

And with one last sigh, my thoughts, too, ceased.
> Morning’s tidings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So you’re saying that’s what happened?” Sweetie Belle asked incredulously.

“Well, that’s the account given by the… employees” Applebloom stated. 

“I… somehow doubt that neither of the culprits were at fault, but each was manipulated by the other into doing something that couldn’t be undone.”

Applebloom sighed. “Me too, Sweetie, me too. But until we get a proper interview with the fillies affected, that’s all we’ve got to go off.”

The two of them sat in silence, deep in thought. Outside, childish laughter and high-pitched shrieks sounded, a reminder of simpler times. When all that really mattered in the world was gaining a cutie mark. Discovering a special talent. Back when the world was just a bit bigger, when Celestia was an immortal goddess-like figure who could always be counted on. When the biggest problem in the whole of Equestria was a bad harvest. 

Simpler times.

How Applebloom missed those simpler times.





Foggy Bramble slowly cracked open her eyes, dragging herself out of sleep. The sun was shining, birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and large gashes were carved roughly into the tree she was slumped against.

Her head was ringing, and the light of the sun streaming down into the clearing she was in was far too bright.

The sun was up, Foggy had barely any memory of the previous night, and a there were spots of dried blood all across her. She groaned, trying to move her limbs, and failing. Everything hurt with a dull ache, and she was certain she knew why she was in the clearing. Foggy had shifted last night. That she was sure of. Everything after reaching a dark spot in the heart of the forest was a distant blur. 

But where had the blood come from? Nothing really hurt in the way that a bleeding wound would, and it didn’t look like she was hurt. So, not hers. Maybe there was a bloody animal carcass somewhere, a tragic victim of Foggy’s darker side. Better that than somepony’s body, brutally slaughtered and unceremoniously left to rot.

Her joints hurt less than when she woke up, so Foggy grit her teeth, and pushed herself up off the tree. A quick inspection of the gashes slashed haphazardly into the trunk revealed four distinct claw marks, and small bloodstains. Nope. Still not her blood. But it was her claws that had marked the tree in such a way.

Walking out of the clearing, and into the forest, she still felt bone-tired. It was due to this that she almost missed the flash of light grey through the trees. But after rubbing her eyes and peering back at the place, it definitely wasn’t her mind playing tricks. A stray ray of sunlight had hit something light grey, with something lilac visible through the trees as well.

Well, it might be worth checking out, she rationalised to herself, before making off in the direction of the colours.

And there, lying sprawled out on her back, was a filly. She was a light grey pegasus, with a fluffy, vibrant lilac mane, and no cutie mark. And she had a massive wound obscuring her right shoulder, blood beginning to clot and hints of bone poking through. It looked pretty damn nasty. Foggy blanched at the sight, a few events returning to her memory as she saw her. 

Chasing that same filly, minus the shoulder wound, through the forest.

That same young pony tripping over a tree root. And not getting back up.

But on the plus side, there wasn’t the stench of rot clogging the air around the area. Maybe, hopefully, she was alive? It was too much to hope for, but if there was even a chance…

Foggy quickly checked the young one’s vitals, silently listening for breathing, before feeling for a pulse at her neck. No way. No bucking way. Hope flared in Foggy.

She had a pulse. A slow, halting pulse, but one nonetheless. A slight, ragged breath escaped from her lips every few minutes. The young filly was alive. 

Foggy breathed a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have another death weighing down on her conscience. But what to do about the poor filly? Foggy didn’t think she could carry the poor thing back to Sage Mercy, and just leaving her was out of the question. She’d have to go get Sage, bring her back to the spot (preferably along with a stretcher), and transport the filly to the Nurse’s Cabin. Foggy shrugged to herself. It’d work. But how would she remember the spot? With a sigh, she grabbed a large stick, and started dragging it through the fresh snow. She started walking away from the area, still dragging the stick, and marking a path back to the area. If all else failed, they’d have to get Bright Stream or Gybh to do a fly-over and find the spot again.

And so Foggy Bramble walked on, dragging a large stick, in the general direction of the camp. She hoped it wouldn’t be a long trek.





Sauvignon Glamour wasn’t exactly the type of pony to sit around doing nothing. But what else could she do? Even though the glow had faded, her hoof still stung; a reminder of how she could never feel the warmth of the sun’s rays upon her ever again. Sage Mercy made good conversation, but she usually didn’t stick around for long, always having something else to do. Vig had books, stationery, paper, toys and various other things to focus her attention on, but most of them she’d already grown bored of. She missed Moonbeam. But they hadn’t been seen since last night, from what she could hear. They’d disappeared overnight. Eavesdropping almost never delivered good news, but Vig did it anyway. 

That was, until early in the morning, one day and two nights after she’d been bitten, Foggy Bramble and Sage Mercy came in, out of breath and carrying a stretcher between them. The poor soul who’d been in the stretcher was currently resting in the room next to Vig’s, and that wasn’t even the most interesting part. It was Moonbeam Thought. She had a proper chunk torn out of her shoulder, was unconscious, and was the cause of Sage’s anxious pacing and muttering, but it was them. 

Supposedly attacked by a timberwolf, a story Vig found a little… off. Maybe it was the tone of voice Group Leader Foggy Bramble had used when explaining the predicament, or maybe it was the parallels to Vig’s own story that she concocted to tell Sage, but Vig didn’t buy it. 

And so she watched from the doorway of her room, watched Sage as she paced and fretted, watched Moonbeam as she lay lifeless on the bed, watched as Foggy came and went in between camp activities.

Watched as Moonbeam screamed silently, seeming to no longer be unconscious, but asleep. Watched as Sage tried to calm her down, failing to notice the miniature fangs where her normal equine canines should be. Vig’s stomach had dropped when she noticed, but since they didn’t seem to have lost any pigmentation, or have any total loss of blood, she doubted that her friend, too, had become a Vampony.

It was around lunch, as Vig picked gingerly at the plate Sage had brought in from the lunch hall. It was a bit cold, but otherwise fine. And that was when the machines over at Moonbeam’s bed, big, clunky, beeping and whirring nonstop, went crazy. The sudden explosion of sound quickly drew Vig’s attention and she snapped her head around, eyes wide to see what was happening. The heart monitor indicated that her heart was going at an unnatural speed, and the machine watching her blood pressure issued a warning siren. Meanwhile the filly in question opened her mouth in another silent, wordless scream. Vig was a heartbeat away from rushing in to help her, do something, anything. Sage was eating at the lunch hall with everypony else, and Vig was the only one in the Nurse’s Cabin. But she couldn’t rush in, help them, anything. The sun’s light prevented her, least it’s rays burn once more at her flesh. 

And so Vig watched in horror as her friend twisted and contorted, eyes fluttering, screaming inaudibly. The machines and contraptions shrieked and blared their warnings. But that wasn’t even the most memorable part. The bandages, gauze and plaster covering Moonbeam’s injured shoulder loosened and fell off, revealing the horror of the gash beneath. Clotting lumps of blood and dark red tissue clumped onto a pearly white sliver of bone. Vig’s stomach heaved at the sight, and despite her newfound appetite for blood, she quickly clutched her midsection with one hoof, nausea rising in her. But as she stared uncomfortably at the wound, unable to tear her gaze away, something strange happened. Pinkish flesh knit itself back together, obscuring the bone. Clotting and scabbing bits of blood fell away, tendons connecting back together, and muscles rebuilding themselves. All the while Moonbeam writhed and turned over, still screaming, though no noise escaped her mouth.

It was disgusting, nauseating. It was horrifyingly unnatural. It was one of the worst things Vig had ever borne witness to. When the laceration finally seemed to calm down and stop supernaturally healing itself, there was only a bare patch of flesh, tender and pinkish, save for the set of indentations reminiscent of teeth. Not the sharp triangular marks of fangs either, more like ordinary, rounded pony teeth. With the exception of the canines, which had left sharper, deeper indents. As the weird knitting-together-of-flesh-and-blood stopped, the frenzied beeping and wailing of the machines died down. One of the monitors indicated their heart rate had dropped suddenly, before evening out to a more natural speed. Yet another said that their blood pressure had returned to normal. Blood sugar, oxygen levels, temperature and everything else under the sun was once more at a normal speed, rate, or level. Moonbeam had stopped writhing and contorting, too, and no longer had her mouth wrenched open in a soundless scream. The simple fact of what had happened was still horrifying, though.

Sauvignon Glamour subsequently threw up, heaving a large splatter of dark red fluids and greenish gunk onto the floor. She really wished Sage Mercy had been there right then. 





Crimson Thorn. Cartographer. Orienteering mastermind. Vampony. Also sworn enemy of Foggy Bramble. And currently pissed at said Foggy Bramble. 

Crimson didn’t need to be an expert at seeing through lies, or connecting dots to see that Foggy was clearly the culprit of the camps’s most recent tradgedy; a young filly attacked by timberwolves. Where had that mare been on the night of the incident? How had she found the filly so early in the morning? What was that mare up to now?

Well, as it turned out, eating a daisy sandwich and chatting with Gybh. That was, until, Sage Mercy came storming in to the lunch hall, like a vengeful hurricane, and strode over to Foggy. Only twenty or so minutes before, had Sage left to go check on her patient. After a hushed conversation that Crimson wasn’t particularly interested in, a shaky-looking Foggy left with a still furious-looking Sage. 

Crimson turned to Bright Stream. “You have any idea what that was about?”

He finished chewing, before answering. “Nope. I got nothing. Maybe that was about… you know.”

Crimson shrugged; nonchalant. As long as it wasn’t fault, and whatever the problem was, it didn’t lead back to Crimson, then she really didn’t care. Unless it got Foggy in trouble. Then she absolutely cared. And was totally going to be ready for the fallout with a bucket of popcorn in hoof. 

Granted, it was probably not going to be popcorn, but one of the blood packs she’d stolen from Sage Mercy’s supply. Still good for snacking on when Foggy finally got her dues. 





“I don- I ju- I just don’t understand, Miss Bramble.”

“Yeah… this wasn’t what I expected either.”

“The wound. It’s… it’s healed. She’s still not awake, though. How? This is impossible! I’ve never seen- never even heard whispers of something like this. What if it’s contagious? How…”

Foggy Bramble sighed. If she’d had her suspicions that morning, then there certainly wasn’t a doubt in her mind now. The supernatural healing? The unconscious state? This was all her fault. Sage Mercy had no idea what she was dealing with. 

Lycanthropy. Some said it was a blessing, others a curse. Ever since the fateful night in her teens, Foggy had seen it as neither, but a tool. One that was more irritating than useful, but it’d had it’s uses over the years. The condition was only transmittable by bite. If somepony with the condition were to bite another whist in their transformed state, then be it blessing or curse, the bitten would be afflicted.

And last Foggy checked, she’d bitten the poor filly who lay on the bed in the middle of the room she stood in. The healing, just in time for the full moon in two nights, was not coincidental. The other filly, in the next room over, had been unlucky enough to witness it. And from what Foggy heard, it had been positively stomach-churning. 

But visual aspects of the healing aside, there was still a roaring manticore in the room that needed to be addressed.

The filly; Moonbeam Thought, according to Sage; would now face the same difficulties as Foggy. Transforming under the light of the full moon. Losing equinity for one night every month. Having to go through the idiots working at the RFSB.

And it was all Foggy Bramble’s Twilight-damned fault.
> With eyes upturned to the heavens
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


To: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom.
Re: My Administrative Leave



Dearest Chancellor. I am delighted to report that your reasonable and wise choice to place me on administrative leave has paid off. I have taken up yoga, worked through my… issues with my therapist. The pieces of office furniture and stationery I had regrettably destroyed in my emotion. Though, if I may be so bold in questioning your wisdom as to ask; when am I being placed back in my position? You did not give an ending date to my administrative leave. As the days roll by, it has me beginning to wonder when I will get back to serving the community. Hopefully it will be sometime soon?

Sincerely, peacefully, 

Citric Quartzite






Two weeks earlier

Cobblestone sat, surrounded by ponies and yet alone. He joined in on their conversations, laughing, cracking jokes, making bold statements. But it wasn’t the same.

Vig had, according to the Group Leaders, received a cutie mark and returned home without spectacle. But Moonbeam? They had apparently gotten sick and was resting in the Nurse’s Cabin. Leaving him to make new friends and join new ponies’ friend groups in the middle of the camp.

It was boring, to tell the truth. He wanted ponies to proclaim things to and throw snowballs at. He’d had barely a week with the other two, but he missed them a whole bunch. Even Vig, despite their differences. 

At that point in time, Cobblestone just hoped Moonbeam would get well enough to rejoin everypony else soon. All these other ponies were, with a few exceptions, boring. None of them ever wanted to argue over jackets or indulge in his theatrics. And most of them certainly didn’t really want to hang out with him after the great snowball fight.

He gazed distractedly at the window over on the right side of the lunch cabin. It was cracked, but papered up with tape and glue. Sunlight glowed warmly around the edges of the tape. He had broken that window, breaking into the lunch hall. That night had been the last time he’d seen Moonbeam.

And the night before that was the last time he’d seen Vig.

And since the Winter Moon Festival was beginning that night, that meant decorations needed putting up and festive food needed to be cooked and ate. All of which the Group Leaders would no doubt frame as ways to find a special talent. But he couldn’t complain. Any excuse to eat moon cakes and marzipan snowflakes. 

He hoped Moonbeam would be out in time to celebrate with him. And that out there, somewhere, Vig would be dancing and enjoying the festivities just like him.





“Are you sure you don’t want to return home? At least write to your parents, sugar. I’m sure they’re gonna be real understanding” Sage Mercy tried

“No, no, I’m good staying here. And I’m sure Mother will be more pleased to see me in the flesh than through a letter” Sauvignon Glamour breezed.

“Aww, come on, sugar. Your Mum’s probably going to be understanding and accepting of the truth.”

“Ahahaha ummm, well, uh… maybe tomorrow?”

Sage sighed and abated. “I’ll ask you again tomorrow.”

But she’d asked every day since her patient had been brought to her. And still Vig, as she liked to be called, refused to have the train come back and for her to board, or even to write home. Sage’d had had Vig’s luggage brought in from her cabin, but since she couldn’t exactly go outside anymore, there wasn’t much need to wear any of the winter gear she’d packed, save for a pair of retro black leg warmers when it got chilly in the mornings. 

Sage shook her head slightly before turning and walking out of the room Vig had made her non-permanent residence. And into the room of the other young filly in her care. Moonbeam Thought, Vig had said her name was. And that she was also a they sometimes. But regardless of pronouns or name, that young filly in her care was a full-on medical, magical miracle. The wound marring their shoulder had healed in less than a day, where it had previously been estimated to leave a permanent, ugly mark. Indeed, the only mark that remained were the startlingly equine-like indentations of teeth. However, as the pattern of teeth also matched those of a timberwolf, the story Foggy Bramble had given still held up.

And no normal pony teeth were that sharp, or had miniature fangs where the regular rounded canines would be. A timberwolf it had to be, then.

Sage busied herself checking the screens attached to various machines and contraptions, beeping and whirring, of which those were attached to the body of the young teen who lay in the bed. The heart monitors reported nothing out of the ordinary, and the only thing off about the screen monitoring blood, was the lower-than average level of blood sugar. The IV fitted neatly to a vein in the arm was still attached properly, and the nutrients flowing through it were still going steadily. All in all, nothing to worry about. You know, besides the abnormal healing rate of the wound and what Sage was beginning to suspect was a coma.

One patient afflicted with the ghastly undeath of Vampirism, and one in a coma, with a shoulder that refused to stay hurt. Plus the colt who was surprisingly prone to falling in the lake, and would surely return to Sage’s care due another brush with the cold, icy waters. Not bad. Not what she’d have liked, but not as overcrowded as one summer had been.

Sage Mercy was not exactly pleased, but she also wasn’t stressed. How much worse could this camp possibly get?





It was a lot worse, as it turned out, to be awake and alive. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a cakewalk to be trapped in my head, with only my thoughts to keep me company. But, hey. The pain wasn’t constant. And when the deep, fiery pain in my mindscape subsided, and I opened my eyes once again, my first thought was: I’m not dead. Being dead surely wouldn’t hurt as much as it did when I awoke from my dreamless void. A gnawing, bruise-like pain awaited me when I rejoined the rest of the world, and when I cracked open my eyes for the first time in what had felt like millennia, the sun was near-blinding.

But I was awake. And in a little pain. And not dead, which was a bonus. 

I turned my head, ever so slightly, ignoring the tingling pins and needles that ran up and down my neck as I did so. And when I angled my head down, just enough to see the place where the beast had ripped into me- 

“Moonbeam! I can’t believe it! You’re awake! Took you long enough.”

That voice sounded familiar. Sauvignon Glamour. I dragged my gaze from where I had been trying to angle it, over to her. She stood at the doorway to another room, just out of the sun’s reach. And was it just me, or had the pointed slits of her pupils only grown sharper?

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Honestly, I mean, I was worried you’d just die asleep like that. It’s been, what, a day and a half since I last saw you” she chattered, filling in the silence.

I nodded, again. If this kept up I’d end up looking like a bobble head.

“How was it, being asleep for so long? What’d you dream about?”

I tilted my head from side to side in a so-so gesture, before wincing at the spikes of pain it sent shooting up my temples.

Being awake and alive in the realm of the living hurt.

“And have you seen your shoulder yet? That was bucking creepy, please never heal like that again!”

Why was I getting a sinking feeling of dread? I turned my head back to focus on my shoulder. Oh no. Oh no no no.

It had healed. The wound on my shoulder, where bone had previously been exposed, and blood wept into the ground, was completely gone. Healed. This was wrong! I should have been gutted with pain, to the point of bleeding out! But all that was left of my horrific night in the forest was unbroken flesh marred only by little, rounded teeth marks.

Maybe the waking world wasn’t such a nice place after all. 





Two weeks later

Citric Quartzite paced the room, trying to remain calm, to focus on the jangling and clinking his jewellery made with his every step. This, he decided was surely torture-adjacent. 

How long until that thrice-damned mare showed up? How long until she finally decided to start the meeting the two had planned in their correspondence? How long was Applebloom going to make him wait?

Citric sank down onto his haunches, practicing the breathing exercises he’d gone over with his therapist. He thought of his family, his mother and father, and not of the anger that was building up at the edges of his mind. Happy thoughts, he reminded himself. Happy, peaceful, non-angry thoughts. She had to come soon. If she stood him up-

“If that absolute buckwit isn’t here soon then I will-” he began, only to be cut off by a voice, light, but with a rich southern twang from behind him.

“You’ll what? ‘Abracadabra’ me to th’ moon? Great. Ah could really use a break right about now.”

“Look who finally decided to show up. Grand Chancellor.”

“Former director.”

Was she referring to herself or him? Because if she was saying what he thought she was saying…

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Nuthin’ at all, Mister Quartzite. Now Ah believe you called me here to discuss the terms o’ yer… leave.”

He gritted his teeth, and tried hard to retain composure. “Indeed I did.”

Finally, Citric turned to face her. Grand Chancellor Applebloom. A yellow earth pony with a washed-out red mane and dangerously fiery orange eyes. She wore a large pink bow in her hair, which complemented the matching pink tie attached to her black velvet suit. The only decoration she wore, besides the (as Citric thought, every time he saw it, ridiculous) bow, was a small red pin in the shape of an apple, carefully pinned to one lapel. In contrast, Citric’s only attire was his necklace, a large gaudy thing of seven different-coloured crystals, and his earrings, a pair of simple, wire-thin gold hoops.

“And Ah’m here to tell you th’ whole truth. Former Director Citric Quartzite, this is your official two weeks of notice. You’re being let go. Seer Songbird will be replacing you as director in two weeks time” she stated.

He could feel the rage boiling inside him. Red clouded the edges of his vision. White-hot fury crept into his every thought.

“Get out.” Citric said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

Applebloom glanced at the still-open door behind her.

“What did you say?”

“GET OUT!” He roared.

The mare shot one last glare at him, before turning and leaving. Now that she was gone, he ran a hoof through his mane, muttering curses. This was great. This was just great. The breaths that did come, pushing roughly through his throat, were fast, and panicked.

What would he do? Citric was out of a job. The small, downtown Ponyville bungalow he leased was costly. He had to eat, for Twilight’s sake! And all over a little incident in the camp he directed. It all felt like a massive overreaction to him. There’d been a murder in his time as director. A literal murder, and this was what got him sacked? 

Unbelievable.





Two weeks earlier.

Gybh looked up at the sun, hidden behind a cloud and yet it’s light shined on. Truly an inspiration, if nothing else ever would be. It was sinking, slowly but surely; sliding across the darkening sky to a final destination beyond the horizon. She wasn’t partial to flying, but the sheer majesty of the celestial ceiling of Equus was enough to have anycreature’s heart soaring.

But that was while the sun remained in pride of place in the sky. That night, the moon would rise, a full circle of pure white and pale cream, ascending like a god into the dark of night, strung with stars and garnished with clouds.

Not that Foggy Bramble would get to see any of it. No, for her coworker had come to Gybh with a request to be locked away for the night. It wasn’t a bad idea, truly, but the place she would have to lock Foggy into was enough to give the hardiest of creatures a bad dream or two.

Gybh took a long, glorious look at the sun, which now burnt a dim orange, and was beginning to slip over the edge of the world. Drinking in the beautiful pinks, oranges and grey-blues of the sky. Beside her, Gybh knew Foggy was doing the same, though for the last time that night. And with one last view of the sky, she unlocked, unlatched and pulled open the door to the Staff Basement. And stepped right in, traipsing carefully down the stairs. Foggy Bramble hurried in behind her, striding quickly down to the bottom. The two exchanged the expected words of cautions and goodbyes, before Gybh jogged back up the stairs, avoiding the practically collapsed one three down from the top. 

She’d come back for her friend in the morning. Hopefully, there’d still be a friend down there come morning.





It was night. The sun had long since dropped out of the sky, and the moon was taking it’s Twilight-damned time getting over the trees. I couldn’t stay still. All of the beeping, whirring and restless devices had been disconnected from me, now that I was awake and fully functioning. Vig sat on the bed beside me, deep in thought.

“So you were attacked by an… eldritch creature of the beyond?”

“I’m not sure how you got to that, but if that’s all we’ve got to go off of, then sure.”

“No, no, that can’t be right. Maybe it was a rogue changeling!”

“Oh, come on, Vig. That’s kinda xenophobic.”

“An unreformed changeling?”

“I’m sure an unreformed changeling lives alone in the woods, ready to tear out young fillies’ shoulders.”

“Then it was a Zombie. I got nothing else.”

“Couldn’t have been. Zombies don’t look like that!”

“…you ever seen a Zombie?”

“Nope!”

“What else could it have possibly been?”

“A Vampony perhaps?”

“Do I look like a joke to you, Moonbeam Thought?”

“No, you do not look like a joke to me, Sauvignon Glamour.”

“Please for the love of the holy, the unholy and everything under the Twilight-damned sun, DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“Oop, sorry. Assumed we were just using full names now.”

“Forgiven.”

A sudden shiver racked my body, making me shake uncontrollably. When I regained bodily autonomy, my heart beat just a little too fast, deafening in my ears. 

“I don’t- I don’t feel so good…” I stuttered.

The moon had finally risen. The light from it shined into the room brighter than any pony-made light. I seized up, frozen, before doubling over. Nausea rose like a great wave. And the moonlight. Oh, the moonlight. It called to me. I could faintly hear Vig, like she was oh so far away, repeating my name, only growing more frantic.

But I was a thousand kilometres away. I felt strange. Different. Alien.

The moon called. A beacon, drawing me towards it’s light. I was a moth, and this was my flame. Enchanted, entranced. 

The moon called, and who was I to deny it.
> In speculo et luna
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The earth pony sat at his desk, bored out of his mind. And absolutely regretting agreeing to work the graveyard shift. 

But somepony needed to tell ponies to go away. And it just so happened Honey Tongue was best for the job. Being the coltfriend of one of Equus’s most kind-of-semi-powerful mares gave him some… liberties. Protections. Opportunities to do as he pleased. Nopony would tell him off for being rude. Nopony would call him out for ‘accidentally’ shredding ‘important’ letters. And best of all, his pay check.

Honey wasn’t exactly bored, to say, but there was certainly more interesting things to do than just counting the bits in his wallet. But hey, it beat actually doing his job.

Until a smartly dressed earth mare came waltzing up to his desk like she owned the place. A coat the hue of sunlight, and rosy red mane. Orange eyes. Oh, and was he forgetting the clipboard? Because she had a clipboard, which was held menacingly in one hoof as she advanced.

Honey stopped counting his bits, swiping them off to the side with his hoof. One second to breath, and then he looked up at this intruder, the ‘I’m annoyed, buck off’ face he practiced in the mirror starting to creep into his features.

“Can I be of assistance?” He snapped.

“Secretary Honey Tongue. Is that the name you go by now? How quaint. Ah’ve got a paper ‘ere that says a certain ‘Sweet Hornet’ is wanted by the EUP. Ya wouldn’t happen to know where he is now, would ya?”

His features softened almost instantly, and his face lit up with the other expression he practiced in the mirror. ‘I’m a nice, sweet pony that you can trust!’. But beneath the shiny veneer, he already had the escape routes and exits to the building flashing through his mind. A cold chill started to work it’s icy hooves down his spine, and he stiffened imperceptibly.

Sweet Hornet was dead. Dead, and lying at the bottom of the Neighagra Falls, after a botched zeppelin heist. At least, as far as the EUP knew. The newspapers always seemed to mention that no body was ever found. Honey Tongue could never go back there.

“An’ look ‘ere! A paper that says it wants a… Bittersweet Bee? Now, Honey, Ah’m wondering if ya know where Ah can find Mr Bee?”

Bittersweet Bee had died, long before any of this. Although no corpse was ever discovered, everypony knew that nopony could survive falling off the edge of a cliff in Canterlot. Especially after a robbery of the Royal Equestrian Vault. And certainly not an earth pony like himself.

Ah, well, he’d be sorry to kill off Honey Tongue. He’d grown to enjoy this lie. But all good things had to end, no?

“Apologies, Miss. I have never heard of a ‘Sweet Hornet’ or a ‘Bittersweet Bee’. Perhaps asking a librarian at city hall will help. I can be of no assistance to you. Ta-ta!” He chuckled heartily.

“An’ Ah suppose it wouldn’t be too much trouble settin’ up a meeting with ya boss? Scootaloo?” She asked.

“Oh, no trouble at all, Miss. as soon as she gets an opening in her calendar, I’ll notify you. And, if I can be of any more assistance tracking down these dead stallions, please! I’m here to help!”

The mare turned and walked away. She was at the doorway, stepping over the threshold, when he finally started to relax. 

“Th’ only thing is, Honey, Ah never said they was dead.” She slowly swivelled her head to stare at him stonily.

“Dead? Oh, what a terrible slip of the tongue! And all the more embarrassing for me, given my lovely little name! Ha ha ha…” his voice died on the last little laugh. He was beginning to break out in a sweat.

“Again, if there’s anything ya can tell me, Ah’d be positively delighted to hear ‘bout it.” She was advancing, slowly, back to his desk, clipboard still cradled ominously in one hoof.

He had to go. Now. It was a shame that such a dashing young stallion would die such a lonely death in the Everfree Forest, but it was the way it had to be. It was a small mercy that Honey Tongue had already arranged to have a closed-casket funeral. Almost as if he had predicted that a body would never be found.

Almost.

He got up, ignoring the mare, and started scooping his bits back into his wallet. 

“Secretary?” She loomed over the desk, trying to look him directly in the eyes.

Once his wallet was ready to go, he ducked under the desk, packing the small felt item full of jangling coins into a small yellow backpack. Inside the pack was a jet-black canteen full of water, non-perishable snacks and a selection of his best tools. A grappling hook. A set of coat dyes and Cutie Mark Concealer. Cotton hoof-slippers to disguise the sound of hoofsteps. A small golden necklace with a tiny four-leaf clover charm. For luck, obviously.

“Secretary Honey Tongue, Ah am trying to talk to ya. Look me in th’ eyes, Honey.”

He ignored her, again, and stuffed a small scroll of aged parchment off the desk and into the bag.

The side door was his best bet. He could take the maze of backstreets and alleyways, easily able to lose any pursuers. Once out of Ponyville and into the Everfree, he was free to take a new name. Live another life. Maybe his next lie would have a little more… power to it.

A grand, mysterious wanderer from nowhere, making a mighty name for himself as a mystical stage performer in Las Pegasus. Yes, he liked the sound of that. 

“Viva Las Pegasus, asshat!” He yelled, before popping back up to his desk and slinging a hoofful of black powder at the mare.

She asked too many questions, anyway. As the powder swirled and settled as a thick, smog of a dust clouding the air, and more importantly, obscuring vision, he made his escape; a mad dash for the door, backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Luckily, the mare had left the door wide open. A gaping maw, ready to swallow him up, as he escaped into the night. As he sped across the threshold, not sparing a glance for the mare behind him, who coughed and spluttered due to the powder, Honey’s mind was already racing with possibilities. He could be Sundrop Wasp, a great magician. He could be Word Twist, a brilliant hustler making it big directing musical theatre. He could be anypony, anything he wanted be. 

All he had to do was make it out of this sleepy dump. He galloped across the foyer, veering sharply to the left, to the side door. Almost there… almost there… and…

He kicked open the door with a triumphant oomph, and shot out the opening like an arrow fresh out of a crossbow-

-right before slamming into a thickly muscled chest, killing his trajectory and stopping the arrow in it’s tracks. Honey stumbled back in a daze, trying to figure out what he’d slammed into. Tilting his head, he was met with a large, incredibly buff stallion blocking the exit. The mystery stallion scowled down at him. Sweet Twilight was he tall. Honey Tongue gulped and pivoted, only to find a very annoyed-looking yellow mare, coat tinged with black, and mane rumpled slightly.

“Bittersweet Bee. Your little jig is up. Ah’m Grand Chancellor Applebloom Apple. Remember mah letters?” she snarled.

“Bucking. Horseapples.” he muttered.





One week earlier.

I stared in the mirror. Looked myself straight in the face. In the eyes. And tried to tell myself, in the mirror, that I was not a monster. That I did not grow claws. Fangs. Slitted eyes and black sclera. A tail.

But to truly, honestly, tell myself the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I couldn’t have possibly said that I was not a monster. 

I bared my teeth in the reflective silver. Checked, again, for what had have to have been the fourth time, that my canines were normal, perfectly rounded teeth. Pony teeth. And for the fourth time, my double in the glass showed off two tiny fangs, pointed and strange, breaking the perfect line of straight, white teeth that filled my mouth. Granted, they weren’t as pronounced as Vig’s, but it wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right.

And besides from my own fragmented memory and Vig’s dramatic retelling, those tiny little points were the only proof that the last night hadn’t been a feverish dream. More of a nightmare, actually. 

Running through dark woods. Feeling the sway of the moon, power coursing through my veins. Having paws. Claws. Howling at the moon in sheer joy. 

Waking up at the end of the night, tired. Remembering with a jolt, the events of the night. The horror, the fear, the disgust at what I was. What I still was, staring forlornly into the mirror. 

I was a monster.

Another check, just to make sure that my teeth were still… weird. That I hadn’t suddenly become a normal equine again. 

That this wasn’t all just some nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. It certainly felt real enough.

I was a monster. And my day was just getting started.





“What did you do?”

“What do you mean? I was locked up aallll night, I couldn’t have done anything!”

“Then why did I find these on the trees near my cabin?”

Foggy squinted and leaned in to look at the small coloured squares Gybh held up triumphantly. 

“You… found photos on the trees near your cabin?”

Gybh aggressively jabbed the small pictures with one claw. “No, look at what’s in the picture!”

“Trees? Ohhhhh. Why were there claw mark on the trees near your cabin? It wasn’t me. Swear to Twilight it wasn’t.”

“If it wasn’t you then who? Or what secrets are you keeping? WHY ARE THERE CLAW MARKS ON THE TREES NEAR MY CABIN?!”

“Take a chill pill. It was probably just a timberwolf or a Canis Minor. Why would I be the culprit?”

Gybh took a deep breath, seeming to calm down a little. She calmly stowed the photos back in one of the pockets of her bright orange coat with a sigh. 

“Sorry. It’s just that filly- you know the one, that young one who got attacked by a wolf or something -this whole situation’s got me on edge. And you’re probably the only one I can talk to that could have made those marks. The forest just feels that much less safe.”

“Hey, no hard feelings. And I’m just about certain that those claw marks weren’t made by anything remotely a threat to your safety. Or any of the kids in your care.”

“Yeah… no hard feelings. Have a good one!”

“Thanks! You too!”

And with that, the two went their seperate ways. Neither mentioned that those claw marks had been the least of the weirdness from the previous night. Gybh assumed the howling she’d heard was from Foggy. Foggy barely remembered anything. 

And so nocreature was any the wiser. Besides Sauvignon Glamour.





“For the last time, you’re not a monster.” Vig spoke calmly, as if explaining an easy concept to a foal.

“Easy for you to say! You didn’t shift into a wolf-beast-thing last night!” Moonbeam cried.

“Yes, but you can still walk in the sun. And you don’t have to drink blood.” She took a miniature sip of the blood pack in her hooves to punctuate this sentence.

“Just because I don’t have to drink that, doesn’t mean I’m not a monster!”

Vig grimaced and put down the small pack, as if remembering what it really was. 

“And look!” Moonbeam stretched their mouth wide open, in an effort to display the tiny fangs that had appeared. “FANGS.”

Vig shook her head slightly, and bared her own impressively large and sharp canines. “Look. Fangs.”

“You’re the only other eyewitness, Vig! You know what I am.”

She sighed, already knowing what was coming. “And what’s that?”

“A MONSTER.”

“Yes, but are you a ‘wolf-beast-thing’ right now?”

Moonbeam thought about it for a minute. “Uhhhh… no?”

“Simple, then. You’re not a monster. End of story. No ifs, buts, or ands.” Vig picked up her blood pack again and gingerly took another sip.

Her friend flopped onto their side with a huff. “I still think I’m a monster.”

Vig exhaled deeply, and tried a different approach. “So, if you really are a monster, what’s so bad about being one?”

Moonbeam looked at her incredulously. 

“I mean, I myself am a monster, am I not?” She continued.

“Not really? You have full control over yourself all the time.”

“So if I, a scary being of darkness, that has to drink blood, can’t walk in sunlight, has no reflection, can’t cross running water, and has literal fangs, isn’t a monster, then what makes you, a normal pony every night of the month except one, a monster?” She finally concluded.

“You were there last night! You saw me! I- I- I’m going to be like that again tonight. Oh my Twilight.” They curled into a ball, the realisation sinking in. 

Vig patted the curled-up pony awkwardly. “There there. If it helps, we can go deep into the forest or something. You know, before your whole thing starts?”

Moonbeam nodded slightly and seemed to relax a little. 

“So, do you even know what it is you are? I don’t exactly have encyclopaedic knowledge of supernatural beings, but we can’t keep calling you a ‘wolf-beast thing’.”

The pegasus uncurled herself and sat up with a sigh. “Lycanthropy. It has to be. No other explanation. Everything I’ve read says it’s a Twilight-damned curse. That’s it then.” They laughed bitterly. “I’m cursed.”
> The world looks different when painted in moonlight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ho-lee crap. It’s been a Celestia-damned while, Applebloom. Why haven’t you visited in so long?”

“There were always a few… complications when Ah tried to see ya, Scoots.”

“Are you talking ‘bout Honey? I can’t believe he was a conpony!” 

“…me neither.” Applebloom grumbled under her breath.

“I mean, he was always so nice! So charmingly nice. And that smile of his… a total dreamboat, that one.” Scootaloo sighed wistfully.

“Mhm.” was her friend’s only reply.

“Anyways, how’ve things been on your end?”

Applebloom smiled grimly. “Two murders, one stallion Ah had to fire, a filly bit by a werewolf, an’ a Vampony.”

Scootaloo flinched away from the other mare, her eyes shooting open. “Bucking Tartarus. A kid got bitten by both a werewolf and a Vampony?”

The mare in question shook her head with a slight grimace. “Different fillies. So much more paperwork.”

The orange mare seated across from her chuckled lightly. “Paperwork, am I right?”

Applebloom grinned. Why hadn’t she kept in touch with Scootaloo? She was so much more fun than any tottering old council members she had to endure working with. 

“Ya get it!” She pretended to cheer.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I haven’t heard from Sweetie Belle lately. You know how she’s holding up?”

“She’s bin’ tryin’ to get in touch with ya, Scoots. Our Sweetie’s a married mare now!”

“Truly? Who’s the lucky pony?”

“Ya’d never guess. Diamond Tiara.”

“What? No way! DT and Sweetie? That’s crazy!” Scootaloo gasped and smiled widely, the happiness for her friend evident in every facial feature.

“Ah know, right? An’ Ah was jus’ as surprised as ya were!” 

“I wish I could’ve attended the wedding. Look, I’m sorry for being so distant. The parliament’s been very tricky to be in. You know, with the elections and all? You’ve got no idea the Tartarus it can be sometimes.”

The two were silent for a few minutes. The minutes stretched quickly into what felt like an eternity. An eternity of silence. And when Scootaloo finally broke the quiet, it was with little sparks of silver gleaming in the corners of her wide, royal purple eyes. 

“Keep in touch, won’t you? It’s been way too long Applebloom. I don’t want to have that much of a gap between us again.”

Applebloom nodded. “Ah think Ah will, Scoots. Ah think Ah just might.”





One week earlier.

I was not absolutely sure that Vig’s plan would work. Of course, she was, but then again, she didn’t have the looming threat of a wolfish beast lying in wait, just beneath the surface. My surface. I was that wolfish beast just beneath my surface as much as I was a pegasus on the very first, most physical layer of my surface.

She didn’t have to worry about what would happen in the next hour, as the full, bright moon rose over the Everfree Forest. Granted, she probably had other worries, like the dangerous critters that stalked the long shadows of these woods. Or the vicious vegetation that sometimes decided to eat ponies alive. At least the sun had set, leaving behind no trace of it’s burning golden light. And leaving the forest a much safer place for Vig to walk through. 

And for some reason, those long shadows that haunted the woods were getting no darker. I could still see as if it were a summer afternoon, minus the summer. Or the afternoon. Why was it that the woods that had been so dimly lit and filled with a dark gloom of shade and mist before, were now a safe-looking, grove-like place of perfectly visible light? The trees hadn’t been so welcoming a few nights earlier when I had been b-

A low whine escaped me, and I clapped a hoof to my mouth. Whines certainly were not equine noises. Pony vocal chords just didn’t really produce that kind of slide. I threw a glance up at the sky. Barely there between the dark green leaves of the canopy. It was starry, but behind the stars was an indescribable purplish-blue-black void. And, thank whoever or whatever would hear my prayers, no moon. 

Yet.

“Remember; I’ll be with you the whole time. When you- you know -I won’t run away. When I speak, focus on my voice. And most importantly- wait, are you listening? Moonbeam! This is an amazing, brilliant plan that can’t possibly fail! Listen to me!”

“Vig, we’ve been over this plan a gazillion times. And besides; You based this on crappy young adult fantasy books!”
I muttered.

“Hey! I can hear you! And those books aren’t ‘crappy young adult fantasy books’, they’re comprehensive pieces of complex world building based on the author’s rich imagination! That just so happen to resemble your current situation! Oh, and would you look at that, I rhymed!” She retorted. “Poet and I just don’t know it” Vig sang.

I laughed and rolled my eyes somewhat affectionately. Somewhat.

We were in the deep woods now. In a small clearing, ringed with sweet-scented bushes of something. The starlight overhead was a sight to behold. But what caught, and sunk hooks into my attention, was the small piece of glowing silver that had become apparent over the tops of the trees. It held my gaze captive, though out of terror, or sheer… something I could not explain, I couldn’t tell. 

“Vig, this is it.” I said quietly.

“Don’t forget. The most important thing is to not freak out. Stay calm. Moonbeam Thought, I know this is going to be tough, but please. We can get through this.”

The moon was more than just a small piece, now. Any moment the rays of it’s pale light would reach me. It was hard not to start panicking. Not with the knowledge of what was about to begin. What was about to happen to me. I could already feel the strangeness of the other side of me; the other state of mind start to creep in around the edges.

“I’m scared. Please. V-Vig I’m bucking terrified.” I choked out. 

The moon was already halfway above the trees. I stumbled back, crashing into the undergrowth behind me. A shiver overtook my body, shaking my very bones. This was it. There was no more waiting. There was no more hoping for a nice, peaceful, monster-free night. 

The moon called to me. I, enraptured by its siren song, had no chance of resisting.

I felt dizzy, disoriented, like any moment now I could keel over, like a ship in a storm. My heart beat too fast. Too loud, like a drum thumping away right next to my ears. Nausea, my long-awaited friend, slammed into me like a hammer on glass. I reeled, taking a few more steps back into the sweet-smelling bushes around the edges of the clearing. Stay calm? Not freak out? How was I supposed to stay calm? How was I supposed to not freak out?!

The moonlight had finally reached me, rolling across my coat in waves. It was cold and alien, and yet all at once, warm, inviting even. And then it began.

I could hear low cracks and crunches, as my bones shifted and moved, some lengthening and reforming until they were entirely different bones, and some shortening to make way for strange new organs. The miniature hairs that made up my coat grew longer, thicker, until I was covered in coarse fur.

I rolled my shoulders back, as they clicked and made weird snapping noises. Shook out each of my legs, once the bones finally settled in them. When I looked over my shoulder, my body was not my own. Different and yet eerily similar. I had a tail. A proper, wolf-like tail. Pain lanced through my front hooves, and when my gaze flicked down to them, I didn’t have hooves anymore, but a set of paws, four-toed with wickedly sharp claws.

And the strangest, scariest thing was that it wasn’t painful. Besides the not-hooves, that was. I should have been in pain. Agony. My body was tearing itself apart and reforging into something else. But all I could feel was a strange sense of peace. It was awful, in a way.

And when my teeth elongated and sharpened into deadly points, I wasn’t scared. I blinked, once, twice. That’s when my gaze unfocused. Then it came back, with piercing clarity that made my head hurt for a minute. When my hearing cut out, leaving the world a silent bubble, I didn’t scream. And when it returned, the world exploding back into sound, I merely flicked my ears back against my head.

This was terrifying. Terrifyingly peaceful.

And when I thought it had finally stopped, that there was nothing left to change, that maybe, there was the possibility of coming out on the flip side, the dawn after the dark, unscathed, it got worse.

So much worse. I was grateful I hadn’t remembered this part of the night from last time.

A voice. Wild, untamed, monstrous. Ripping through my head, like claws through butter. 

‘The night. It’s glorious. The moon. A thing of utter splendour. Let us run free in these dark woods. Tonight, we are not the prey, but the hunter.’

Surprisingly well spoken, too. 

“Moonbeam, can you hear me?” 

I whirled around to face the speaker, a growl building in my throat. 

“Hey! Easy now. You know me. Easy now. Easy now.” She began slowly backing off. I couldn’t hear her heartbeat. How strange.

I advanced, long striding steps, towards her. Was she somepony important to me? Moonbeam. It sounded so familiar, but hazy, like a dream dissipating into nonsense upon waking up.

‘Tear her limb from limb. She should have known better than to be out here after dark.’ the voice whispered. I bared my fangs at this strange pony. Was she not scared of me? How foolish. How utterly foolish.

“Moonbeam Thought! You stop that! Remember me?”

Moonbeam Thought. It almost sounded like something I heard a lot. Alarm bells clanged furiously in my brain. This mare was not what she seemed.

“MOONBEAM THOUGHT! STOP THIS BEHAVIOUR AT ONCE. OR DID YOU FORGET WHO YOU ARE WHEN YOUR BRAIN-MEATS GOT REARRANGED?” She bellowed.

This mare had fangs. Two sharp little teeth marring the pearly white rows of her jaws. What the Tartarus? Did I know her? Was I Moonbeam Thought?

“I AM SAUVIGNON GLAMOUR, YOUR FRIEND. SO CALM THE BUCK DOWN AND COME BACK TO YOUR SENSES!”

Oof. Now that name sounded familiar. I definitely knew her. But from where? Who was she to me?

‘A threat.’

Of course she was. Nopony had those kinds of eyes, red and slitted, without being dangerous. Nopony had fangs, without the possibility of using them. And what was she calling herself? Sauvignon Glamour? Where had I heard that before…

The growl rose loud and rumbling through my throat, a warning, to this strange mare with the strange visage and the heart that didn’t beat. She should turn, run. Try to escape with her life. But still she stood, awaiting her grim demise. How unfortunate. But if she was going to flaunt death, just standing there, not doing anything to save herself, then she had to be prepared for the consequences of that inaction.

“MOONBEAM THOUGHT, I AM WARNING YOU!”

There was no other creatures in the clearing, nopony to warn. Was she warning me? Again. Foolish. Who did she think she was dealing with? Evidently not the powerful beast of the woods I was.

She walked closer. Stepped closer to me. To her impending death. Truly, honestly foolish. Took another step towards me. Defiance shone in her eyes and her lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing the true length of those unnatural canines. And the uncomfortably sharp points of the rest of her teeth. Not quite fangs, but not the teeth of an equine.

‘Attack her! Show this foolish mare our true might!’

Sounded good to me. I prowled in a slow, deliberate semicircle around the edge of the clearing, tail swishing behind me. And when I had finally reached the other side, I stopped. Tensed every inch of powerful muscle underneath my fur. 

And leaped, mouth open, ready to bite into the mare, with two jaws of fangs, and claws extended, ready to rend flesh from bone. I rose up in a small arc, clearing the space between us in one second, two-

A hoof hit me square in the side of the head, snapping it around to the side with a terrible crack, and knocking me off course. I fell with a thud onto my side, skidding a few centimetres. Bright light danced at the edge of my vision, and my eyes hurt.

“Please, for the love of Twilight, don’t be dead. It wouldn’t be very nice to have to dispose of a body at this hour” She snarked.

Wait… I did know her. Lying on my side, in a body that was nowhere near my own, in a dark forest, it was all coming back to me. Moonbeam Thought? That was me. How could I have forgotten. The pony who’d just socked me so hard I was seeing stars was Vig. More importantly, the fact that I was even having those thoughts meant her plan was working.

“I’m alive, I’m alive. Keep your hair on” I grumbled, trying to get to my hooves in a way that didn’t hurt.

“And thank Twilight for that. Bodies are so much harder to get rid of than living ponies!” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. What’d I do, anyways, to get knocked onto my side like this?” The memory of the last… twenty minutes? Was a blurry snapshot that was quickly fading out of my mind.

Vig shook her head solemnly. “Terrible things, Moonbeam, terrible things.”

“Forgive me for doubting you.” I muttered

She nodded in mock seriousness. “You are forgiven, friend.”

Wait, if I was in full control of my thought processes, and body, then was I- a quick glance down at the rest of me revealed that I still wasn’t quite equine. It was a right shame. I enjoyed being a pony. An experimental try at flapping my wings revealed that I couldn’t even feel the muscles there anymore.

Finally pulling myself back up onto my hooves again, wincing with every tiny movement. Thankfully, there was no blood. Or any scratches or bruises, for that matter. Not even a red mark or tender spot where I’d skidded. Odd, but it meant there was nothing to explain to Sage Mercy come morning. I brushed off some of the dirt absentmindedly.

“So. We made it, the plan worked, what next?” I pondered, more to myself than anypony else.

Vig’s expression froze, as if she’d also just realised this. “I have no idea.”

I sighed and brought a hoof up to my forehead, in a feeble attempt to put off the headache that was starting to form. The forest was loud; too loud. Every ominous rustle of leaves, or vocalisation from a nocturnal creature pounded in my brain like a jackhammer.

“Well buck.”
> An Apple’s Interlude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The forest had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. When ponies inevitably disappeared into it, she’d collect the newspaper clippings and put them into a little chest under her bed. When the harvests bore less fruit than normal, and the townsfolk blamed the forest, she’d agree, laugh along with them, shake her hoof at the mass of trees looming in the distance. Once you’ve been around The Everfree Forest long enough, it digs roots into your soul. Applebloom had had the lion’s share of adventures in those woods, and had seen more than most ponies. When campers complained of strange noises and disturbing sounds coming from the dark trees, she would shake her head and stare at the forest. What most didn’t get was that strange noises and disturbing sounds always came from the forest. The Everfree being the poster child of The Unknown was just a fact of life, so there was no point getting worked up about it.

All the same, whenever Applebloom took a stroll beneath the great boughs of the ancient trees, a chill crept slowly down her spine. Memories of misadventures in her youth swept back in a flood. There were reminders of those precious moments etched into every knot of wood and hoof-shaped root. She was an Apple to her very core, and that core was wrapped in Everfree heartwood. How long had she spent playing in the cool shadows of the trees? How often had she been awoken by screeches and cries from the dark entanglement of the forest? How had the woods crept into her every day, sitting comfortably at the edge of her memories and casting long slivers of darkness over her childhood? Applebloom didn’t mind the near-constant disruption of normal by Ponyville’s most eccentric citizens, but when the Everfree played a part in that disruption, things got ugly, quick. 

The year dark vines with blue thorns had overtaken the quiet borders of the woods had been one such disruption. Granted, Sombra’s takeover of, well, everything had stolen the show. Another year, when an Ursa Minor had attacked the town was still fairly fresh in the minds of most. The menagerie of beasties that stalked the woods was a heavy enough deterrent for most kids, but the ones who’d grown up around the edges weren’t so easily scared. Terrifying flora and pony-eating plants didn’t exactly put off the rumours that swarmed the forest like flies in the summer. 

Regardless of the dangers, the rumours, the missing ponies, the disturbances and the dark shadows haunting her memory, Applebloom still liked to walk beneath the canopy of large green leaves when she needed a break from the world. Sometimes her job necessitated such a break. 

Like when a certain Citric Quartzite decided to send exhausting amounts of letters addressed to her, all detailing his fury, and his inevitable plan to take back his previous role as director. All of which were sent over the course of several eventful days, and curiously smelled strongly of sage and fire. Did it add to his pleas that sometimes the letters were spotted with patches of damp? No, it did not help Citric’s case at all. But what could Applebloom say to him? She certainly wasn’t going to return his correspondences after some of the similarities he drew between her and the tyrannical days of Starlight Glimmer. It was his fault that she wasn’t going to reply, really.

As she took another lazy step through the trees, she took a deep breath in. Pines, firs, the oddly acidic scent of wildflowers… it was almost as familiar as the sickly sweet perfumes of the blossoms Applebloom was named after. There was a bewitching undertone of petrichor and dead leaves, just beneath the more presentable aspects of the forest’s wide range of smells. It was heavenly. It was home.

“Applebloom? Is that you?” An earthy, heavily accented voice carried through the trees, reaching out to the golden-delicious coloured mare haunting the Everfree.

She took in one last delicious breath of woodland air, eyes shut in appreciation, before turning to see who was calling her. A sunset-coated mare with a mane like pale white-gold. Emerald eyes set in a friendly, though wrinkled, face framed by charming freckles and mare-killer dimples. Applejack. Applebloom’s face lit up with joy at the sight of her dearly beloved sister. It had been a few weeks since they’d last seen each other, but it was always nice to see her again. A weather-beaten Stetson rested serenely on Applejack’s head, and a bottle-green hair tie kept her blonde mane tied back in a messy bun.

“Applejack! Am Ah glad to see ya or what?” She called back.

“It’s always nice to see ya, sis. But Ah must admit, Ah am curious. Why’re ya out here in th’ Everfree?” The older orange mare trotted closer to her younger sibling, an easy smile already on her face.

As she got closer, Applebloom could pick out all the tiny details that made up the personality so clearly written upon the earth mare’s appearance. A patch of purple fabric, sewn into the Stetson where a hole must have been. The stray hairs poking out of her rumpled manestyle. The pale honeysuckle-coloured neck scarf patterned with vivid red apples and edged with pure white lace. The small indentations in the pattern of pony teeth, encircling her wrist, and the only remaining mark from a particularly nasty wound she had suffered barely nine years ago.

“Jus’ came out here to catch a break, AJ. The woods haven’t changed one bit since Ah was last ‘ere.” Applebloom replied breezily. 

“Ya wanna tell me what’s on yer mind? Ah’m good to talk to ‘bout yer problems, sugarcube!” Applejack’s cheery demeanour showed not a crack, despite the many years she’d worn it.

“Nah, Ah’m good thanks. Ah’d love to stop an’ chat, really. But Ah’ve gotta work through it on mah own. Need to know basis, ya know?” A wide smile spread itself across Applebloom’s face. It was pretty obviously fake, but it usually got the job done.

Applejack frowned, a small sliver of uncertainty crossing that cheery face of hers. It was there for a second. No, not even a second and it was gone again. 

“Well, ok then. At least come in fer some tea with Big Mac an’ Sugar Belle. Ya haven’t been ‘round ‘ere in ages, sis!” And there it was again; her sister’s exuberant exterior was back.

“Ah’d love to.”

“That’s great! Ah’ll put the kettle on when we get back to th’ house.”

Applebloom smiled and nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. Before she knew it, the two of them were walking back through the trees of the Everfree, back to the house in the centre of Applebloom’s childhood. A beautiful old red-painted farmhouse, repurposed and built onto until it looked nothing like the original structure. Heart were carved into the eaves, and ancient, thickly varnished wood decorated most surfaces, making up a variety of different, yet uniquely gorgeous pieces of decor and upholstery. Dashes of pink and swathes of cream white extended throughout the house. Applebloom loved it with all her heart, and all of her soul.

She was glad to see it hadn’t changed one bit in the few weeks she’d been away. A small mercy, considering all the trouble she’d been through in the last two weeks or so.

The sweet yet spicy aroma of warm chai tea wafted from the scarlet-toned ceramic pot of tea that Applejack balanced carefully on her back, separated from her flesh only by a emerald-coloured tea towel. A set of four matching teacups and dainty dishes were placed carefully on the small circular coffee table, which was made from a rough-hewn tree trunk and lacquered in a lovingly spread, yet uneven lacquer. Applebloom remembered that same coffee table from her days of trying everything for a special talent. Needless to say, she hadn’t gotten a cutie mark in woodworking.

“So, how’ve you been, sugarcube?” Applejack asked as she poured the milky liquid from the pot into the small porcelain teacup in front of Applebloom. 

The yellow mare took the steaming cup, wincing as it burned her hooves. “Good, good. Yerself?”

“Yeah, Ah’ve been alright. The farm’s been harder to manage since Granny… y’know.” Her sister sighed deeply and her voice wavered.

There was no denying the thick silence that settled over the room like a muffling blanket. This was torn wide open by a set of eight hoofsteps clattering swiftly down the stairs behind the two sisters, and the accompanying voice of Sugar Belle, tittering away to the low speech of Big Macintosh, Applebloom’s dearly loved brother.

“Heya Big Mac, it’s been a minute since Ah saw ya last. How’ve ya been?” 

The pale red stallion nodded, beaming. At his side stood a dusty-lilac mare with a cloud of indigo curls framing her head. A rounded point jutted out sharply from her forehead, poking through her mane. Sugar Belle was the first one to bring unicorn blood into the Apple family. None had been more surprised than the late matriarch of the Apples, but Granny Smith had welcomed her eldest son’s wife with open arms, and the rest of the family had done the same.

“An’ Sugar Belle, how’ve ya been holdin’ up?”

“I’ll be better when it’s spring again.” The mare had deep shadows under her warm plum eyes, and a streak of grey ran through her mane and tail.

“Ah agree whole-heartedly, sugarcube. It’s been a tough winter.” Applejack muttered from the seat she had taken at the coffee table. 

“Winter Wrap Up will be along soon, so Ah wouldn’t spend too much of mah time worryin’ ‘bout it.” Appebloom took another sip of her tea. 

“Eeyup” Big Mac affirmed.

“So, uh, Applejack, how’ve ya been handling the last few weeks, y’know, with the Winter Moon Festival an’ everything?” Applebloom quickly asked, in an attempt to stave off the silent awkwardness that was quickly descended upon them.

The mare in question nodded grimly and clutched her teacup close to her chest. “Mah wife’s helped, but ya know how those nights always are.”

Big Mac and Sugar Belle moved to sit around the coffee table, nodding contemplatively.

“Speaking’ of that week, did any ‘o y’all hear anything… odd from the Everfree lately? Like, in the past week?”

The other three stole nervous glances at each other. Applebloom’s teeth clenched and ground together, and she nearly upended her tea. She hated it when there was something that ponies just weren’t telling her. It was her second least favourite thing other ponies did to her. The first was treating her like a foal.

“Well, uh, Ah did hear somethin’ right howling in the Everfree a few nights ago…” Applejack started.

Applebloom took another sip of her tea, and waited for her sister to continue. 

“Ah’m afraid to say Ah didn’t go out to investigate, ‘cause Ah thought it was probably just a timberwolf.”

Big Mac shook his head; “Nnnope.”

“I don’t think any of us thought it could be anything else.” Sugar Belle added.

“But that’s the strange thing. It sounded so eerily familiar. Y’know, like, somepony ya know, Applebloom.” The orange mare finished.

“Ah see what yer gettin’ at. Ah’m terribly sorry Ah can’t tell y’all the truth, but mah work is kinda on a need-to-know basis.” Applebloom took another tiny sip of tea. It was beginning to get cold.

Applejack sighed deeply. “Ok then. Ah don’t wanna pry.”

But hadn’t Applebloom been free to tell her friends? Not being able to talk to some of her closest confidants, her family, felt like a punch to the gut. But new information about Incident 032A demanded a new layer of secrecy. Her associates were considering reclassification of… recent events as Incident 032B. She didn’t disagree.

“Anyway, have ya heard the news about Scootaloo, and her coltfriend? Turns out he was a conpony! Ah knew it!” Applebloom quickly changed the topic.

“Who, Honey Tongue? Ah thought he was a nice young stallion. He certainly had a way with words!” Applejack exclaimed.

“I didn’t get the chance to meet him, but Applejack made him sound so lovely. Was he really a conpony?” Sugar Belle sounded incredulous.

“He was, he was. And he shredded all ‘o mah letters Ah sent to Scoots! It was awful!” 

“Ah dunno, sugarcube. Shreddin’ letters ain’t the worst thing that could happen to somepony.” Applejack raised one eyebrow.

“He was also wanted by the EUP!” 

The element of honesty lowered her brow and nodded. “Then he was probably a bad pony. Ah knew Ah was gettin’ a bad feeling whenever he spoke to me.”

“Well sis, ya were right ‘bout him. He was a rotten fruit.” 

“Ha! Ah’m never wrong! If only that rainbow nutcase could see me now!” 

“…you aren’t in touch with Rainbow Dash?”

“Nah, Ah still am, but it’s moments like these that make me want to rub it in her face!”
> Sunrise would be nice for anypony else
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun. A vital orb of boundless energy raised and lowered by the lavender alicorn that sat upon Equestria’s throne. It burned to stare directly into, and yet you cannot live without it, as Celestia, former Princess of the sun, loves to point out to her younger sister Luna, former Princess of the moon, and would-be usurper of the heavens.

And yet, as much as Equus needed the sun to remain in the sky, that didn’t mean Vig had to like it being there. A constant reminder of what she’d lost. Let it burn, she thought. Let it burn, for it only makes me hate the sun that much more. And so Vig stood, under the shade of the Everfree, glaring at the rays of sunlight filtering down through the canopy all around her, waiting for Moonbeam to finally get back, and enact her master plan. Whatever it was. 

“Vig! I’m back!” And there was her pegasus friend, lugging along- wait, were those some of the thick winter blankets off of the beds from the Nurse’s Cabin?

The grey filly galloped towards Vig, somewhat hindered and slowed by a bundle of fluffy cream fabrics piled precariously on their back. However the weight of the blankets, Moonbeam grinned ludicrously, every inch of her wild expression screaming; THIS PLAN IS GOING TO WORK! It was a little terrifying.

“… are you absolutely certain this will work?” Vig asked. The risk of burning was a bit high for maybes.

“I am one-hundred percent certain!”

“I can’t tell if you’re sarcastic or serious, and that’s scaring me.”

“I am also one-hundred percent serious!”

“Oh goodie.” Vig couldn’t help but let a little drop of sarcasm creep into her voice.

“Aww, come on Vig, if it doesn’t work, we’ll know in the first few seconds. It’ll be fine.”

Vig rolled her eyes, but the edges of her lips turned up. She’d never had a friend quite as… there wasn’t really a word for how Moonbeam was sometimes. It wasn’t in a bad way, just an indescribable one. 

“So, I’m guessing, we put the blankets over me, and get back to the cabin safe and sound.”

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!”

Moonbeam unceremoniously dumped the fluffy masses off her back, and Vig held herself very still as they arranged the fuzzy swathes of fabric, until Vig’s vision was entirely obscured by white. 

“Don’t lie to me, I look like a pile of snow.” 

There was some barely audible chuckling, before Moonbeam’s muffled reply reached Vig. “Mmmmaybe.”

Vig sighed, and slumped her shoulders. “Let’s just get this over with.”

It quickly occured to the pair that the Vampony of the group, buried in a mound of blankets, couldn’t see crap.

“Ok, ok, if you just keep coming forward now…” Vig was close to just ripping off the blankets in frustration.

“To the right, no not that far, go back a little, there’s a root, watch the root…”

“Just keep going straight!” Thunk. Vig walked straight into… was that a tree? She couldn’t see anything.

“Moonbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam…” Vig started.

More near-silent giggling, before the filly in question answered. “Heh, sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

Ripping that stupid blanket off was getting more appealing by the second.

“I bucking swear, if we don’t get back to the cabin soon-”

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

“Suuuuuuuure we are.” Vig grumbled under her breath. 

“I can heeeeear yooooou, so don’t get so comfortable mumbling from under there!” 

“Hrmph. Whatever.”

“I can still heeeeear yooooou!”

“I knoooooowww.”

“Hey, look, if you just turn left here…” Vig pivoted, took one step, promptly smacked headfirst into another hard surface.

“Oops, not that far.”

“Yeah, I’m certain.”

“I’m serious! We’re almost there! For real, I promise.”

“If you say so…”

Taking a deep breath, trying not to inhale too many fuzzy blanket fibres, Vig calmed herself, quietly whispered something about not taking the blanket off, and continued forwards.

“Hey, for real now, turn left.”

Cautiously, she moved to the side, careful not to slam into any solid barriers. Thankfully, there was no resistance, and so she strode further into the unknown of space beyond obscured vision.

“Ok, ok, watch the step.”

The warning came a second too late, and Vig’s forelegs went smack into a raised… something. Pulling her hooves back with a start, she swore under her breath.

“That’s a step, so if you just-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. I’ve gone up stairs before.”

She put her hoof forward, ignoring the slight pain that echoed in the movements of said hoof, and tried to find the top of the step. When she finally found open space, Vig pulled herself up, and waited for the next direction. 

“Ok, so, uh, Vig, we have a problem.”

“Hm?”

“That step you’re on is only big enough for one pony. And the cabin door’s shut.”

“Is it locked?” A note of panic crept into Vig’s voice. The various locks and deadbolts decorating the door were many, but she knew neither of them had the key.

“Thank Twilight, it’s not. You did a good job of picking them last night.”

“All right then, where’s the door handle?”

“Oh, right. It should be… up and to your right.”

Vig stretched her hoof out, feeling through the fabric for the aforementioned handle. When something vaguely circle-shaped brushed against it, she twisted the circle-thing, which then disappeared from her hoof, seeming to fly forward out of her grasp. Taking this to mean the door had opened, Vig stepped in the general direction of where the circle-thing had been. When she didn’t immediately slam into a wall or a tree, or something, she continued walking. The floor turned to timber boards under her hooves, and as she kept walking, the sound of hoof beats started behind her, before something clicked. 

“Moonbeam? Is that you?”

“Yeah, I just shut the door behind us.”

“Good.”

“Oh, and you might want to stop there, there’s a wall in front of your face.”

“Right.”

True to their word, when Vig outstretched a hoof, it met something solid beyond the fabric.

“If you edge a bit to your… right, you should be able to make it into the next room.”

“Ok.”

Vig took a step sideways, before resuming her walk forwards.

“Is it safe to take off the blankets yet?”

“Oh Twilight no, you’re in the middle of a ray of sunlight right now!”

The temptation to take it off, despite the imminent danger, was increasing by the second.

“If you make a quarter-circle turn to your left, you should be in a direct path to that shadowy little room you’ve been staying in.”

“Hey! The lack of natural light is perfectly fine by me!”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

When she finally made it to a point that Moonbeam said it was safe, Vig shook off the heap of fluffy material, and spat out a clump of fuzz that had somehow made it into her mouth. The room looked no different to when she had left it. The carefully tidied array of distractions and activities were still pushed to the edges of the room. The plump armchair that squatted in the corner still sat there, looking… smug? She didn’t exactly know if a chair could look smug, but that one managed to. None of the lamps or light fixtures spread throughout the room were switched on, but not that Vig needed any of them to see. The dark hadn’t been a problem for her ever since that fateful night not a week ago. Shadows lit up under her gaze, where they had been impenetrable before. Indeed the sun spilling out from the windows had also become blinding to look at for more than a few seconds. Interestingly, whenever Vig was around other ponies, there was a curious, continuous thumping noise, just beneath the normal level of noise that immediately reached her ears. Was it a heartbeat? An auditory hallucination? Vig tried her best to ignore the noise, and avoided thinking about it too much. Just in case it was the sound of a heartbeat.

“So. We made it back, we’re both still- well, I mean, you’re not really alive, but the sentiment’s there.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

“Sorry about that. At least you’ll stay young and beautiful forever!”

“Really going to enjoy being fourteen for enternity. Not like I’ll never be able to drink, drive or vote!”

“Yeesh, I said I was sorry!”





Foggy Bramble paced, trying to figure out what had happened the previous night. It came back to her in flashes, not all at once, as she might have liked.

Stalking the edges of the Staff Basement.

Desperately clawing at the rotting wood, trying to escape.

Snarling at the light pooling in through the cracks in the boards, furious at the feeble reminder of the glorious night she was missing out on by being locked in the basement.

Snapping an old broom, left to rot, in one clean bite.

Gouging claws deep into wood, and then dragging them, ripping through the rotted planks, only to find crumbling dirt behind them. 

Howling with rage, with fury, with reckless abandon.

All in all, not the worst night she’d ever had. To be sure, the other was pretty angry about being trapped down in the darkness for the whole night, but she wasn’t the one with executive decision making, so what was she going to do about it? Nothing. The world was safe from Foggy Bramble. The thought brought a small smile to her face, which blossomed into a joyous grin. She couldn’t hurt anypony, down in the Staff Basement. She couldn’t kill, nor maim, or bite anypony else. It was the perfect solution to a problem that had plagued her nightmares. 

“Foggy?”

A rectangle of light slithered down the steps leading up to the outside world, an ambassador of the sunlight gracing the camp above. Gybh gingerly stepped down the stairs, peering into the dim gloom that still enveloped the space where Foggy stood. 

“Foggy? Are you down there? Do I need to come back later?”

“Morning Gybh, everything’s ok, you’re safe to come down.”

The griffon let out a small sigh of relief before calling back; “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I stay right here. You do remember where we are right now.”

“If you politely ignore the murderous history, it’s actually quite nice down here!” Foggy joked.

“Nope. Nope. Still not coming down into the murder basement.” Gybh shrilled.

“Fine, I’m coming up.”

And with that, she ascended the stairs, and rejoined the world of the day. At first, the surroundings Foggy opened her eyes to were blindingly bright. Once her eyes had a second to adjust, she let out a small, disheartened breath. The ground around the entrance to the Staff Basement was covered in a layer of fresh, pure snow. The claw-and-paw tracks from Gybh revealed just how deep the camp was snowed through. Sinking one reddish-brown hoof into the icy clouds padding the earth, Foggy yelped and snatched her hoof back. The snow came up to her knee. 

“Ooh crap. Where is my winter gear when I need it most?” She muttered.

Stealing a longing glance at the high-riding fluffy socks covering Gybh’s legs, Foggy let herself have one last self-pitying train of thought, before steeling herself for a long trek through unyielding ice.





Sure, they could have been deathly ill, but this was getting ridiculous. Moonbeam Thought had been in the Nurse’s Cabin for far too long now, and Cobblestone was starting to lose any hope that the pegasus would be out in time for the Winter Moon Festival. There was only so much repurposed-Hearth’s-Warming-eggnog he could drown his sorrows in before it got repetitive. And the ponies he spent time with weren’t much better.

Take Cream Partridge for instance. An off-white pegasus with an annoyingly nasal voice, and obsessively curled orange hair. He couldn’t tell if she liked him, or if she had suffered some kind of… brain damage? It really didn’t help matters when she told the same story of when she had hit her head as a filly every single time someone asked her anything. It was honestly mind-numbing.

Or Juneberry Stag. She didn’t talk much (or at all, sometimes), but from the restrictor ring that she never took off her horn, the nervous way the Group Leaders watched her, and the way she always assumed the worst in ponies, well. Maybe the rumours of her parole from juvenile detention held a pearl of truth. And there were only so many sunshine-yellow unicorn fillies with gradient pink to navy manes before he recognised her from a wanted poster a few years back.

And those were only the most interesting company he kept since the departure of his usual group. A filly who got hit in the head, and a bonafide delinquent. How utterly far he had strayed.

Visiting Moonbeam, while sick, wasn’t out of the question. Maybe he would have time to do so after dinner. Yes, he decided. He would visit his sickly… friend? Friendly acquaintance? Cobblestone would make time to visit his friendly acquaintance in the Nurse’s Cabin that night, once he’d had his fill of dinner. She had to be out soon, right? 

And whatever she had wasn’t contagious, or else Sage Mercy would have declared so, and instated a lockdown. Or something. They’d probably be happy to see him, too. Vig had gone home on the Cutie Mark Express, and certainly wasn’t keeping Moonbeam company. It was an excellent idea. With luck, she’d be out and continuing the quest for a special talent alongside him any day now. 

Of course, he’d either have to introduce them to his new pals, or make his escape from the dreary group he currently associated with. No matter, Cobblestone would burn cross that particular bridge later.





“I’m terribly sorry, sugar, but you can’t stay here for much longer. Don’t you wanna, I dunno… earn your cutie mark?”

“Aww, but-”

“You’ve been here for a few days now, and there’ve been no negative side effects from your… healing. You’re a miracle, sugar! But it’s time to get back out into the world. Vig’ll be just fine without you.” Sage turned to the Vampony in question. “Won’t you?”

“Uhhh… I think Moonbeam should stay here. With me. And what if she’s cursed and- and- uhhh, it’s just taking a really long time to truly… uhhh… take effect? Half-lives and all that!”

I facehoofed. No wonder Vig had failed science. But Sage Mercy was adamant that keeping me from finding my destiny through a magical mark on my ass was immoral. Granted, discovering said magic ass-mark had been significantly more appealing before I had been bitten by a monster in the Everfree. Now, my primary goal for the camp was making it out without inflicting my woes onto anycreature else. I did miss Cobblestone, and just leaving him without any explanation whatsoever was nagging at my conscience a little.

But Vig seemed to be the only one who could snap me out of my uncontrollable… rampage just didn’t seem like the right word, but with no alternative way to describe it, a rampage was as good as I’d get. Granted, she had only used brute force, and I was quite sure anypony else with half her strength could have done similar. If a light concussion and a small amount of brain damage was the cost of my bodily autonomy, I’d take it over nothing.

Sage Mercy blinked at Vig’s proclamation, before her shoulder’s slumped and she shook her head. 

“Look, you can stay until tomorrow morning, but after this, you’re moving back to the Birch cabin, alright?”

“Yes!” I smiled at Vig, and she grinned back victoriously.

I was quite certain that nothing could possibly go wrong in the space of a day. Considering my luck, this was a bold assumption to just make, but what could go wrong that hadn’t already done so? A day and a night, I wasn’t so sure about, but hey. I’m sure we’d be just fine.

The worst that could happen was what? Death? Pretty sure even that couldn’t stop me if I fully lost control with no hope of Vig stepping in to hit me again. The chances of such a scenario were… low, but not zero.

What could possibly go wrong in the space of just a day and a night, right?
> Murphy’s law. Or close to that.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


List of Damages aqquired through Incident 032B
Requested by: Grand Chancellor of the Council For The Betterment Of Equestria’s Youth, Applebloom
Fact checked by: Heat Shield, officer on duty at the time of the Incident
Provided by: Secretary to the Desk of Steel Bars, Manager of Ponyville Correctional Incarceration Facility


Building damage costs:
-1,068 bits for the warped iron bars
-5,009 bits for the ruined concrete
-1,000 bits for the cleanup crew

Misc. costs:
-therapy bills for officer Heat Shield for the next few months, approximately 450.70 bits
-cleanup bills for the uniforms of officer Heat Shield and private Rubber Duck
-the paper and ink used to file the reports on the Incident, and to create this list.





One week before

The woods weren’t that dark. He had no real reason to be as scared as he was, and yet still, a prickle ran down Cobblestone’s spine. Tartarus, even the hair on the back of his neck stood on end whenever his thoughts returned to the late-night hike through the Everfree forest. 

The thoughts of that night churned endlessly through his brain as he approached the Nurse’s Cabin, nestled comfortably at the edge of the trees, and, even as the sun slid behind the canopy of darkness; shrouded in shadow. Did it ever occur to Sage Mercy that the cabin many were expected to call home as they healed was a bit too… Close to the forest? Dark and gloomy? Much like a sitting duck? He couldn’t quite put a hoof on the atmosphere that radiated from the wooden structure.

The building dipped out of sight behind a snowdrift, and Cobblestone’s legs worked overtime to crest it and have his destination back in sight again. When he finally struggled back up to the top, two beings were in the process of slipping out the front door, the paler of the two fiddling with something on the door behind them. He didn’t recognise that one, but their companion? That was an entirely different story.

Light grey colouration and a long, lilac mane? What was the purportedly sick filly herself doing out of bed? Ducking back below the snowdrift in order to not be seen, the purple colt made a snap descision. In the moment, it seemed only logical. Emphasis on ‘in the moment’.

Adjusting the beret on his head so it sat at a cheerfully lopsided angle, but was still secure, he waited a few seconds before peeking back up over the drift. The pair was at the edge of the forest now, and not facing his direction. He was about to finally make a move to follow them, but the other pony- the one he couldn’t quite place -took one last look back at the world outside the woods, and he was forced to dive back down to cover.

After what felt like an hour, but could have been as long as seconds, passed, he slowly raised his head back over the snow. The pair was nowhere in sight. Muttering curses, Cobblestone was about to turn back and head to his cabin. He would have, if it weren’t for one small detail. 

Hoofprints. A clear set of them, easy to follow and distinct in the snow. Perfect.

Striding with effort back over the ridge of hard-packed snow, he followed the pair of tracks as far as his sight would reach, before they disappeared into the trees.

His steps quickly morphed into a swift trot, endless lengths of pure white ground and hardy plants fading into a blur as he raced towards the tree line.

There was a moment of hesitation, after all, common sense dictated that you didn’t follow a filly who probably just looked like somepony he knew into the incredibly dangerous patch of overgrown and possibly carnivorous plants in low visibility. But his need to know what was going on dampened the voice that whispered that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to do this. But as the trees loomed imposingly above him, stretching their boughs high into the gradient of sunset that painted itself across the ceiling of Equestria, he could hear voices. At first, it was just snatches of noise on the breeze, but as he took that first step into the forest, following the hoofprints, they got just a touch louder, and snatches of noise became indistinguishable words. He smiled a tiny, curious smile, and continued further into the Everfree.

As night descended on swift wings, bringing life to the shadows and spreading navy darkness across the sky, Cobblestone’s smile dropped. It was getting hard to see, and the hoofprints were getting harder to follow. It was evident that he couldn’t continue that much further without some kind of light source.

Unicorns. Magical, mystical mares and stallions with beacons of immense power sitting on their heads in the form of a horn. When you have so much raw arcane energy just… there, ready to use at any time for any reason, you tend to forget it’s existence. The average unicorn usually knows five or six spells, mostly related to their special talent, and never make excessive use of that horn sitting pretty on their crown. Magical burnout is also a deterrent, but not incredibly likely to occur.

Luckily for Cobblestone, that was when he remembered his horn. With a spark, it ignited, illuminating his surroundings in a cool grey light, and making it easier to see the tracks he was following. A thought bloomed in his mind, the idea that tracking could be what finally earned him a cutie mark. And with renewed vigour, he followed the trail deeper into darkness.





“Vig, for the last time, you cannot just give me head pats! I am not a dog!”

“Awww is the pupper angry? How cute!” She reached up to repeat the action and I quickly ducked away.

“I swear to Twilight, I’m not going to hold myself back from killing you this time.”

“Nice try. Somepony else beat you to the punch! I’m already dead!”

“So you say every time I threaten you.” I muttered under my breath. 

Vig only laughed to show she heard me. The forest was getting pretty dark, and every so often I would glance up at the sky, checking that no celestial objects had suddenly appeared since last I checked.

“Will you re-lax already? If you shift suddenly, I’ll just punch you out of it again!”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just, well…”

Vig took a sip from the transparent bag she held in one hoof. The contents of the bag sloshed unsettlingly, leaving red trails across the bubble of air at the top of it.

“Oh, yep, I know the feeling.” She took another sip.

“Do you- do you promise that you’ll snap me out of it again?”

Vig rolled her eyes, but went through the motions again for my benefit. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” 

There was something so unusually comforting about those words, like some cosmic force out there was going to hold the pony who made that promise to it. It was why that particular form of agreement was so popular.

The clearing we were on our way to loomed suddenly out of the woods, a break in the trees reminiscent of an island in a storm. I stepped into it first, pushing through the sweet-smelling bushes that lined the edges. Vig followed after me, taking in the cool night air contemplatively.

“Do you reckon we were followed?” The question came suddenly, and I turned to face her.

“Why, did you see somepony following us?”

“No, no. I just could have sworn I heard a heartbeat out there…”

“Since when can you hear heartbeats?”

She stuck out her tongue. “Since I died, smart flanks.”

I stuck my own back out at her. It was childish, yes, but was I just going to let her get away with such an inflammatory gesture? No. No, I was not.

I turned back around to face the other side of the clearing, where the moon would surely be rising any minute now. I turned and braced myself for the night ahead.

The heavens certainly knew their timing, and like clockwork, a small edge of glowing white appeared over the tops of the trees. I took in a deep breath, and tried desperately to slow my heart, which beat a kilometre a minute. As it slowly rose over the tops of the trees, revealing a large, gleaming circle hanging bright in the sky. I unconsciously took a step forward, drawn to the silvery light pooling in the clearing.

It started like it always did. Shivering, shakes skating up and down my body. The feeling of strangeness. Otherness. This was my calling, the flame to my desperate moth. My mind was adrift, a lone boat in a mist-filled ocean. The light drenching the area was positively sublime, and I couldn’t help but drink it in. Another step forward, my hooves twitching and wavering.

Enamoured with the light, I let it wash over me, rolling my shoulders forwards and back, arching my spine.

Disorientation welcomed me like an old friend, and dizziness followed swiftly after, leaving me to sway slightly. When the nausea started, I was almost expecting it. 

A low crackling, which, paired with the odd pop or unnervingly loud crack, alerted me to the fact that the change had started to truly dig it’s heels in.

A slight itchy warmth, and suddenly my coat was made up of long, coarse fur instead of the tiny monochromatic hairs that usually sat over my body. I held up one hoof, only to watch as new fur swept neatly over it, obscuring any hint of the pinkish flesh that was previously barely visible underneath.

I gave myself a light shake as the bones rattled a little, sliding into their correct places. I rotated my shoulders, hearing a satisfying clack once everything was in the right place. I didn’t need to check to see how my formerly lilac equine tail had changed, and neither did I spare a glance for my hooves when a stabbing pain shot through them. 

It all felt so unnervingly natural. It was almost like changing out of tight, stuffy clothes and into baggy loungewear. Except loungewear didn’t usually tend to cause a transformation from one species into something entirely else. As the unshakable core of my being was stripped away into otherness, I could feel the strange peacefulness of it all weighing down on my mind, stifling unbridled fear and squashing horrified disgust.

I ran my tongue over the points of long, sharp fangs that now filled my mouth, and blinked furiously as my sight distorted, before refocusing in terrifyingly perfect clarity that made my head hurt. I had just gotten used to the new, sharper vision, when the world fell silent. It was back in less than half a second, bursting back in an explosion of sound, and forcing my ears to lay flat back against my head.

And it was all so peaceful. So tranquil, as if shedding the form of the regular pony was just a thing that happened, and it was nothing to be scared of. But it wasn’t over. A voice- one that felt so familiar, as if it was the other side of a coin whose face I was on, wild, rough and free. It teared into my head, slashing away at sensible thought or reason.

Wild, rough, free and, well, there was not quite another adequate word for it but monstrous.

The moon had risen. The night was young. I was free.





Vig took another sip from the blood pack, quietly watching her friend as she became a monster. There wasn’t anything to be done about it, except wait for them to stop transforming into a ‘wolf-beast-thing’. Moonbeam’s words, not hers.

The creature formerly (and probably still) known as her friend turned around with a snarl building in her throat. She had long fur, sharp fangs, paws and claws. Seemed high time to knock some sense into that filly.

Except… the slitted, deep blue eyes weren’t locked on her. The beast’s gaze slid past Vig and landed squarely on something behind her. Or somecreature. There was that small thumping sound again, coming from both in front of her and behind. She’d previously written it off as some woodland creature sitting in a tree somewhere behind her.

Deciding that the possible danger from whatever Moonbeam’s eyes were locked on was going to be more dangerous than the definite danger from what was in front of her, she turned around slowly. 

Oh. Oh buck. Of course it’d be just her luck to turn around and find Cobblestone of all colts standing there. His dark grey mane was messy under the hideously askew blue beret, and his eyes were wide, flicking between the red-eyed and fanged filly holding a bag of blood, and the wolf-like creature vaguely resembling somepony he’d had positive associations with in the past.

So of course she just had to say it. This would obviously be the wrong situation, in hindsight, but at the time, Vig was on her last nerve. In the past few days, she’d died, drank blood (several times), watched her friend turn into a monster (also several times), and been burned by the mere light of the sun. Vig was having one Tartarus of a camp.

“This totally isn’t what it looks like.” She really just had to say it.

That was about when Cobblestone started screaming. And on her other side, Moonbeam burst into a howl. So Vig took what may have been the last calm, peaceful sip of blood pack of the night. 

She turned just in time to see her friend raring to attack the poor colt who’d stumbled upon the pair, and quickly ducked before yelling for the other pony to do the same. With a grand leap, that Cobblestone would have been the clear target of, had he not ducked, and suddenly the werewolf was a few hoofsteps away from the half-dragon. He, thankfully, did the smart thing and ran off into the woods, letting out another scream. Moonbeam stood where she’d landed, stock-still.

Whelp. The plan to smack sensibility back into a certain grey filly was still on. Given her luck, Cobblestone would probably be blabbing his flanks off about the monsters he saw in the forest as soon as he got back to his cabin. 

“Bridges to burn, bridges to burn.” She muttered. Which had the unfortunately little-thought out effect of pinning Moonbeam’s attention directly on her. 

Vig sighed. It was not going to be a short night by any meaning of the word.





Cobblestone’s heart pounded as he galloped through the forest. There! Light through the trees! He sprinted towards it, not bothering to look back and try to see if that… that… monstrosity was on his tail.

It had looked equine. It had looked so Twilight-damed equine! 

And that wasn’t the only resemblance the beast had shown. Lilac mane? Light grey fur? Tartarus, even the blue eyes, as much of a twisted mockery of the filly’s eyes as they were, were perfect down to the shade.

It was Moonbeam Twilight-damned-to-the-pits-of-Tartarus Thought.

And then he was through the trees, still running as hard as he could. The light came from a cabin window, shining as a lamp in the void. The Birch Cabin. Perfect.

He’d tell the world. 

He’d slay the monster.

And hopefully get a cutie mark in heroism for his troubles.
> Is this a mutiny or not?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So let me get this straight; we broke out of the poor excuse for prison in this measly little village, rescued some dumbass-” the earth stallion glared at Foggy; -“and are now on. The. Run.” the mare screeched.

“You missed the part where I did something useful. I’m sure there was one.” Crimson Thorn groused.

“Yeah, well, what would I know, right? You know, because I have no memory of the past four hours.” Foggy rolled her eyes.

“How the Tartarus did I end up with two idiotic mares with actual crap for the one brain cell between the both of them?” The stallion whispered, his hooves coming up to his face.

“Oh shut up… uhhh… Hunchback Tugboat?” Foggy narrowed her eyes. “What was your name again? Seriously you’re just so forgettable.” 

“Honey Tongue, buckwit.”

“Did I tell you to shut up or not?”

He shot another glare her way. Foggy bared a mouth full of teeth quickly sharpening into fangs.

“Ugh, Crimson, was it? Keep your marefriend on a tighter leash, would you?”

Crimson Thorn twisted her hoof in an obscene gesture towards him. Honey shut his eyes tight and held his face in a firmer grasp.

“Wha- we- no- oh bucking shut up will you!” Foggy snapped.

“What she said. Also, pretty sure the guard said your name was Bittersweet Bee. Honey Tongue my ass.” Crimson spat.

“I’m going to kill you.” He grumbled.

“Oh yeah, try to kill the undead Vampony, why don’t you. Tell me how that works out when you’re done murdering my cold, already dead body.”

“I think I will. Give me one more minute out here in the Everfree-trying-to-bucking-eat-me-forest.”

“Me telling you to shut up is still in effect.” Foggy’s sclera were pitch black now, and her pupils were naught but slits.

“I’m going to have to knock her out. Again. Thank you Bittersweet Bee.”





One week before.

The sky was barely pushing dawn when Cobblestone finally discussed his long, sleepless night with Cream Partridge. The hues that danced across the heavens were a pale blush mirroring pink, though not enough of a shade to become an actual pink colour.

He was absolutely sure that Moonbeam Thought was the monster. 

He was absolutely sure he knew what he saw the last night.

But despite his absolute surety, Cream Partridge wouldn’t stop needling Cobblestone on the details. He knew that there was a deadly monster hiding behind the thin facade of that grey pegasus, she didn’t know any such thing. And so, that other pegasus he knew kept debating him on everything about his chance encounter in the darkness of the woods.

“Are you certain that you weren’ jus’ sleep deprived, or you didn’ jus’ hit your head? It happens to the bes’ of us!”

“No, Cream. I knew exactly what happened, and I know exactly what I saw.”

“I’m pretty sure I know that you didn’ know what you actually saw.”

“Oh shush up will you?”

“No, I really don’ think I will ‘shush up’, sincerely, me.” Cobblestone internally rolled his eyes. Her voice was giving him a headache.

“Yeah, well, once everypony else hears my case, I’m sure they’ll agree with me!”

She sighed. “If this is the hill you’ll die on…”

“We’ll all die if I don’t warn everypony!”

“On a hill?”

He ground his teeth together. “Possibly.”

“And I don’ suppose you have a plan?”

Cobblestone grimaced. “Half of one.”

“Hit me with it!”

“One word for you: Mutiny. We’ll rise up, take over the camp, and make the world a few monsters safer.”

“That makes no sense.”

He fought the urge to sock her in the face.

This would work, and Twilight help him if it didn’t.





Gybh woke up with a bad feeling. Her back paws ached with a dull pain, her eardrums popped almost a second after she awoke, and most damning of all, she felt sick to her stomach.

Today was not going to be a good day. But until she knew what she could even do about any of it, she’d just have to go about her day as usual. Did this stop her morning brain from speculating wildly about what could possibly be wrong?

No. Why would it? 

She pulled her snow-socks on and draped her poncho over her shoulders. With a flourish, she set this morning’s flower crown on her head. Fake sunflowers interwoven with sprays of snowdrops and finished off with a crown jewel in the form of a blue, two layer flower with five petals she’d found in the forest the afternoon before when she’d been constructing the crown. Her suitcase lay open, bundles of fake flowers spilling out in all conceivable shades of the rainbow.

Once she was properly attired, flower crown and all, Gybh set off for the Staff Basement. Foggy would presumably be awake by the time she got there, and hopefully not all… 

Well. If Foggy Bramble was still a danger to the camp at large, then she could just stay down there until she was safe to be around fillies and colts again. 

When she did finally get to the Staff Basement’s door, opening it and calling out into the darkness, Gybh wasn’t met with snarls, howls, or vicious ferocity, but laughter.

Two pale yellow-green dots, glowing in the darkness, flickered and shook as giggles erupted from the darkness. To her relief, the noise sounded decidedly identical to Foggy Bramble. 

“Foggy? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, you should see yourself right now! I can’t stop! It’s too- hahahahahahahahaha! Oh my ever-loving Twilight! What have you done!”

“Hey! Stop fooling around! I can and will leave you in the murder basement!” She threatened.

This threat was met with more laughter. What could possibly be so funny? One of Gybh’s claws unconsciously shot up to her flower crown, fearing that it was crooked. What she was instead met with was a long, sharp point jutting cleanly out of her forehead, just below her crown.

“WHAT THE TARTARUS IS THAT” She screamed.

Foggy giggled. “A horn. Guess who’s a birdicorn now!”

“WHY IN- IN- I- ARGHHHHHHH” Gybh spluttered.

“And that’s not even the best thing!”

Dreading the answer, Gybh shook her head, claw still firmly grasped on the offending protrusion, as if she could pull it off with enough strength. 

“It’s magenta!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Not magenta! To say Gybh hated magenta was a vast understatement.

“YESSSSSSSS!” Foggy shouted back. 

“Wha- but how- I can’t- no- oh pleas- argh how?!”

“Wait, you didn’t notice the poison joke in your flower crown? I mean, I’m all the way down here in the murder basement and I can see it!”

Gybh lurched forward. She’d heard rumours of such a flower, but never in all her years as a Group Leader had she encountered it. The pinpoints of light in the darkness noticeably shrank back, as if flinching away from her. No- not her -the poison joke she’d unknowingly put in today’s flower crown.

“Is- is there a cure?”

“Of course. It was covered pretty well in the guidebook.”

“Thanks for reminding me you seem to be the only one who actually read that when it actually matters.”

“Ok, ok. Let’s get out of here and fix your, in my opinion, marvellous horn.”





“Moonbeam?”

“Yyyeah?”

“Do you know how hard it was to get you back to your senses last night?”

“Nnnnope.”

“Well great, because you ate a squirrel last night.”

The pegasus shot bolt upright, all the drowsiness evaporating into unfortunate clarity. Their face flicked between horror, disgust and fear before finally settling on and sticking with cold understanding. 

“I… did… what?”

“Check your teeth. I think you’ve still got a bit of tail fur stuck between…” Vig opened her mouth and pointed at a spot in her lower jaw.

“I- I- hurk! Ohcrapohcrapohcr-” she was cut off by a violent retch. No bodily fluids hit the ground, though.

“Oh, and you already threw up everything in there.” A questioning, but pained glance reminded Vig of the apparent memory loss that comes with complete physical change.

“Did I fail to mention how damn hard I hit you in the gut last night?” She shrugged. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“…screw you, Sauvignon…”

“Not interested. And also: sorry. And also also, don’t bucking call me that!”

“Urgh I’ll murder you. Even if you’re already dead, mosquito ass!”

“Says the literal bit-” Vig was cut off with a raised hoof and a vehement glare that could kill a basilisk.

“I’m not not sorry.” She mumbled.

“What else went wrong last night?”

“Well between you puking your guts up- which I am still sorry about, by the way -and Cobblestone screaming his cutie-mark-less ass off, there was that strangely shaped tree…”

“Can you circle back the part where, oh, I don’t know- Cobblestone saw me?! Like, wouldn’t that have been better to lead with? Wait, no, please tell me he didn’t see me. Vig, tell me he didn’t see me!”

“Well, uh…”

“Twilight damn me to the Twilight-damned moon!”

“Hey! Not my fault your pitiful coltfriend walked in on you in the middle of being a terrifying creature of the darkest parts of the Everfree.”

“Not my coltfriend. Don’t insinuate for a second that Mr. Snowball Massacre is even remotely romantically involved with me!”

“You’d think…”

“I don’t even swing that way! Even if I did, not my type!”

“Can you take a joke?”

“Not really.” Moonbeam muttered.





“And so, as the monsters that slumber beneath the skin of our friends and family wake up to a new dawn where they are not wanted, we shall flourish! We! The true ponies who walk without fear in the light of the sun!”

Once you got him going, Ice Desert was a brilliant public speaker. Once you had him convinced that the monsters that resided only in nightmares were rising up to kill everypony in the camp, though, he was downright inspiring.

“How do we achieve this glorious new future, an era that shall be remembered as golden for years to come, but by rising! Rise up, my friends! Together, we shall do what has never been done before! We shall not be content in the shadow of monsters any longer! Rise and create that new dawn!”

Was that a cutie mark on his flank? Ice Desert was going to be one happy colt as soon as his tirade finished. A white outline of a pony, with bright yellow wavy lines encircling the head of the outline. Something to do with public speaking or how he was perceived? Yeah, special talents tended to be pretty damn ambiguous sometimes. 

“No more will we cower in the dark! Let us fight for our light! The light of our new dawn!”

And with that, he let out one last roaring cheer, he lowered himself off his hind legs and graciously bowed to the crowd of young ponies who were assembled in the lunch hall. Thunderous claps and whoops broke out almost as soon as he finished.

At the back of the hall, two mares and a stallion glanced nervously at each other. Cobblestone watched the trio with mild fascination before his attention was again captivated by the revolutionary uprising happening right before his eyes.

The colt on the makeshift stage at the front of the hall had launched into another speech, still oblivious to the mark on his rear end. The way Ice’s snow-white hair bobbed around up there was reminiscent of a mad dove flapping about as if caught in a hailstorm. 

All in all, this mutiny was coming together quite nicely. The monster would probably be slain by the days end. The only problem left were the Group Leaders. Oh yeah. They’d definitely try to fight back against his amazing push for glory.

He turned back to the back of the hall, only to find that Bright Stream, Crimson Thorn and Sage Mercy were nowhere to be found. Foggy Bramble and Gybh hadn’t even turned up to breakfast.

He’d have to deal with them later, as Ice Desert was beckoning him to come onstage. He may have been a good talker, but Cobblestone was the one with the plan. The orange colt gave one last round of bows before stepping off to make way for Cobblestone.

This was it. His moment in the spotlight. Time to shine. 

But the sea of fillies and colts- the majority older than him -seemed to stretch on into the distance of eternity. When had his throat gotten so dry? Everypony was looking at him. Everypony was expecting him to say something.

Eyes, eyes and so many eyes in all shades of the colour spectrum leered up at him. So many eyes.

“Um, ahem. So, uh… we will…” he looked desperately offstage. Public speaking had never been this hard for him. Ice Desert flashed him a quick smile before he went back to gazing at his new cutie mark.

“So, yeah, uh… I know most of you don’t know me… but, um… we share a common enemy! The monsters that lurk in the shadows… uhhh… waiting to kill us all! We have to rise against them! Stand with me! We shall kill those who wish to slaughter us from the darkness!”

He could see a few wayward glances being cast around the room. Muttering flowed throughout the audience. He was losing them. Time for the real talk.

“I- I know where this monster lurks. It has made the Nurse’s Cabin it’s lair, masquerading under the face of somepony I knew. We will- no, we must venture there and put an end to the danger it imposes upon us all!”

“So, who’s with me?”

Nopony stood. More and more pairs of eyes turned away from him and towards the door. Some actually began to move towards the exit. 

“I am.” He hadn’t heard Ice Desert come up behind him, but suddenly all the attention was back on the stage.

“I am!” Cream Partridge, down in the audience, stood and gave a mock salute.

“I suppose?” Juneberry Stag.

“I am.”

“I am!”

“I’m with him!”

“I am.”

More and more ponies, and some that were at least half-ponies, standing and calling out their allegiance, their dedication to him and his just cause.

And yet he couldn’t help but notice that the ranks had thinned a bit. Most of the camp was present, but there were definitely a few deserters. Cobblestone wasn’t mad. After all, if you couldn’t trust somepony to be loyal to the cause, then why keep them around? 

“Then we go! To the monster’s lair!” He shouted.

A cheer erupted from the gathered fillies and colts. Ice Desert gave him a winning grin.

This was all going to go according to plan. He could just feel it.