Griffon architecture was something Scootaloo had no knowledge of, partially because history class was code for 'nap time' in her book, but mostly because every school she'd ever been to had ignored the history and culture of the griffons altogether. Hell, she hadn't even seen one in the flesh until Sal's tavern, and that was... well, an experience. Judging by that brief, probably alcohol-fueled altercation and one look at the interior of one of their temples, she felt as though she knew all that was worth knowing about griffons.

They were terrifying.

Statues leered over the three fillies as they made their way through the temple, their small hoofsteps echoing around like a thunderstorm. If Scootaloo hadn't had a good view of most of the large atrium, she would have guessed that a whole army was marching towards them. But, no, they were completely alone. There weren't even any birds perched on the fallen blocks of stone that littered the floor. Sunlight poured through a hole in the roof; it was the only light they had to go by. Luckily for them, the hole was just as large as the biggest houses in Ponyville, so they weren't in danger of walking face-first into any statues or pillars.

The statues themselves were the kind that Scootaloo would've expected from a horror comic: at least two or three stories in height, covered in moss and cracks—some missing entire limbs—that only served to make them more shiver-inducing, glaring eyes she feared were stalking her every step, mouths opened in a permanent, silent roar, and armor and weaponry seemed to be the only constant in their design besides nightmare fuel. Scootaloo was both fascinated and creeped out by them. Part of her wanted to go up to them, get a better look at their expressions, a better feel for what they were. Another part screamed at her to run away, wailing like a foal running from a clown. In the end neither side won out, and she just kept walking, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the monstrous forms every once in awhile.

"What is this place?" Apple Bloom suddenly called out, echoing back louder than it had come, inciting a series of small mumbles and whimpers. Sweetie Belle clasped a hoof over one ear, Apple Bloom's face turned as red as her mane, and Scootaloo stared straight ahead. An uneasy silence permeated the air, the only interruption being the howl of the wind as it blew over the opening. It was Sweetie Belle who finally broke the silence.

"It's a Temple of Proxis." Noticing the looks on her friends' faces, she added, "That's the griffon goddess of war." Sweetie Belle walked towards a large statue towards the back of the room, somehow avoiding the debris that seemed to cover every square of the centimeter despite never taking her eyes off the towering stone griffon. "This is her. Hmm..." She hopped up the steps and trotted up to the statue, reaching out with her hoof and rubbing it along the shaft of the sculpted warhammer grasped in the idol's talon. "Neat. This even has her holding Sanguine, the weapon she supposedly used to take out an entire goblin army at the Battle of Pinon Peak!"

Scootaloo looked over to Apple Bloom, who shrugged, then back to Sweetie Belle. "Uh..."

"One swing could take down dozens of goblins, at least according to legend." She smiled and looked around. "Hey, they even have statues of her twelve followers, 'The Spears.' Let's see, there's Tullius, Paulix—"

"Okay, we get it, we get it!" Scootaloo groaned. "Jeez, how do you know all this stuff anyway?"

Sweetie Belle blushed and rubbed one of her forelegs with the other, eyes set on the floor, unwavering. "I... well, I... uh, read about it. I... um, I kinda like history."

"Huh, ya never struck me as being into that stuff," Apple Bloom said. "Ya always struck me as one of them artsy-fartsy types, what with your singin' and all."

"Oh, I definitely do love art, but... I dunno, I just think it's... interesting stuff."

"Yeah, really interesting," Scootaloo scoffed.

Apple Bloom nudged her shoulder. "You're just jealous 'cause she passed history class and you didn't."

"Hey, I passed it." She snorted before mumbling, "Eventually." Suddenly, her ears perked up. "Wait!" Within seconds, she was nose-to-nose with Sweetie Belle. "Did you say 'Goddess of War?!'"

"Uh, yeah," Sweetie Belle said, leaning back against the tribute to the subject of their conversation. "Why'd I know you'd only care about the violent part?"

"No, no. I mean that's pretty awesome, especially the part 'bout smashing in the skulls of goblins, but—"

"I didn't say anything about smashing—"

"—'Goddess of War!'" In a flash, Scootaloo's saddlebags were on the floor and opened wide. The top half of her body disappeared within them and, after a few muttered curses and an angry tossing of a couple of maps, she emerged with Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool firmly clutched between her teeth. She dropped it on the ground, falling to her knees herself, and flipped it open. "Let's see... Vanhoover Island... Raven Rock... Ah! Here we are!" She cleared her throat and began to read.

"'What is this?' Pallah asked, running a hoof across the statute. It was at least as tall as four ponies standing on each other's backs. In its grip was a hammer, and on its face it bore a most callous gaze. Daring shivered and frowned. 'The Goddess of War.'"

Scootaloo couldn't even hide her grin as she placed the book back into her saddlebags. Being right tasted oh so sweet. As she lifted her bags back onto her back, she made sure to shoot Apple Bloom a sly glance and the smuggest of grins. Apple Bloom just rolled her eyes.

"This is so weird," Sweetie Belle said, her voice almost a whistle. "The griffons are from the 'Fertile Sands' region, way down in the southeast. Why would they have a temple all the way up here?"

"Who knows, who cares?" Scootaloo answered. "Come on!" With a grunt, she vaulted over a toppled pillar and headed over to the far right wall, looking over every inch of each statue and pillar.

"What are ya doin'?" Apple Bloom called out. "Lookin' for somethin'?

"There's supposed to be a switch to a trap door 'round here somewhere..." Scootaloo reached out and pushed on a flower-shaped carving. It didn't budge. She moved on to an unlit torch, pushing down on it with all her might. Again, it didn't move an inch. And then she reached the last statue in the row.

It was a griffon, as they all were, but unlike the others, this one had no weapons. Instead, its talons curled over the base, the stone itself sharp enough to cut herself on. A single tip pointed outwards, directly at Scootaloo's chest. She beamed. Bingo. Rearing back on her hind legs, she took the talon in her grasp and pushed down on it with all her might.

Nothing happened.

Groaning, Scootaloo pressed down again. Nothing happened. Her face was red, partially because of the burning muscles in her forelegs, and partially because of the giggles emitting from the direction of a certain bow-wearing pony. She bit her lip and climbed up, placing all four hooves on the outstretched digit, her wings spread as far as they could muster in an attempt to keep her balanced. Then, she jumped, somehow managing to land without falling on her face. She took a deep breath and jumped again, the time having to wave a foreleg around in large circles to keep from toppling over. Third time's the charm, she thought as she crouched down and forced every last bit of energy into her legs. She jumped so high that she was surprised she didn't hit the roof. When she landed, the talon fell away with a loud click, and she fell to the ground with a pathetic yelp. Coughing and whimpering, she looked up, wiping the dust and grime off her throbbing face, and locked eyes with Apple Bloom.

"Way ta go, Scoots," she said with a shake of her head. "Ya just defaced a priceless artifact. Heh he—"

The room began to tremble, as if a million buffalo were stampeding across the temple floor. Clouds of dust rose from the floor while slabs of rock fell to the ground. Scootaloo cried out, but it was lost in the chaos. She dropped into a prone position and covered her head with her forelegs. It was just as she was accepting the fact that she was about to die that the quaking ceased. At first she thought she was dead, but then she heard Apple Bloom's giggling, as annoying and damnable as ever. Uncovering her head and opening her eyes into a glare, she stood. She opened her mouth, her mind going through the many insults it contained, trying to pick the best zinger, but all thoughts halted at the sight behind Apple Bloom. "Woah..." was all she could manage.

A hole had opened in the middle of the floor in front of the statue of Proxis. As Scootaloo approached it, she noticed a set of steps leading down into a thick sea of darkness. She kicked a nearby pebble down into the tunnel and listened as the bouncing grew quieter and quieter until it had completely faded.

She gulped. She hated the dark; hated closed spaces just as much. For a second, she considered turning away, but then she remembered what she had come all this way for. Standing up straight, Scootaloo set a shaky hoof on the first step. She sighed and thought about a camping trip many moons before, thought about fears, thought about Rainbow Dash looking down at her, eyes alight in the moonbeams, comforting, beautiful. She drew a breath and placed a steady hoof on the next step, its din echoing like a battle cry.

Blind. Scootaloo had never really given much thought as to what life as a sightless pony would be like, but she had always shivered at the idea. It just seemed bad, having such a normal, important thing just snuffed out. She knew she would never want to be one—can't fly very well if you can't see what you're about to slam into. As she cautiously descended the cracked, cold steps, a room of pitch blackness surrounding her, this belief—this fear—was only fueled more.

The air smelled of dust, tasted like morning breath, and had such a heavy feel that she could have sworn the life was being squeezed out of her, drop by drop. All around her, their steps echoed. They charged, they beat, they rammed, they rattled her brain, and each one told her that she was not alone. Just how not alone was she? Could the beasts be lurking in the dark, fangs dripping, eyes glowing, minds hungry to finish the job? Yes, that could be the case. That's exactly the case!

A set of hoofsteps ceased as she came to a sudden halt. They were replaced by a loud sigh. If anypony could have seen her, they would have witnessed one of the most violent displays of head shaking Equestria had ever seen. She was tired of being scared. It was the same thing every time: she'd recite some mantra about being courageous—don't run, the dark can't hurt me—and then all of that got thrown out the window as soon as the lights went out. Facing fears was something that had been hammered into her mind since birth. Her mother had told her to be brave and strong, as had her father, as had Rainbow Dash, as had Princess Luna—a living, breathing goddess! Being brave should be as easy as counting to five. She didn't want to be chicken!

She didn't want to be there more.

Can't be much farther, right? she asked herself. Surprisingly, nothing responded. On one hoof, she was relieved that snarky voice had done the smart thing and stuffed a sock in it. On the other hoof, she still had no answer. She'd been going down the same staircase for what had to be five minutes. Did the book say anything about the stairs being this long? Come to think of it, what did it say was at the bottom? A... a door? Or was it just another hall? Maybe... it was the Phoenix Pool itself? Why can't I remember? Again, the voice held its tongue. The silence coursed through her veins, sending a chill down every nerve and artery. All at once she felt very, very alone.

Scootaloo was so entrenched in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the stone give way to dirt, and she nearly found herself, once again, with a mouthful of dirt and more bruises to her already wounded ego. She stumbled, stuck a hoof out, and thankfully found a wall to lean on.

A yelp sounded behind her, followed by a noise between a slide and a thump. The air was suddenly much mustier than it had been.

"Watch out for that last step," she called over her shoulder between panted breaths. "It's a doozy."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Apple Bloom's voice mumbled from somewhere in the dark.

Glancing around, Scootaloo saw nothing but more darkness. She slammed her hoof against the wall. Nothing was ever easy, was it? Couldn't something go her way just this once? Maybe a torch or two? She groaned. No, it would never be anything but hard.

Keeping her forehoof pressed against the wall, she began to creep forward. "Follow my voice," she said, hoping her friends would hear it. "And watch out for the wall on your right. Pretty solid. Running into it would be—" There was a resonating thunk followed by a high-pitched squeak. "—painful."

The wall seemed to go on forever, and wherever it lead, the darkness was waiting for it. She wondered if she was walking in circles, or if she was even walking at all. How big could this place even be? Each step was a step farther away from hope. The wall felt like it was rubbing her hoof raw. And to make matters worse, it was freezing.

"Hey, Scoots?" Sweetie Belle asked, her voice ghostlike in the blackness.

"Yeah?"

"Is that light up ahead?"

She sighed. "Nah, Sweetie Belle, that's... that's..." She drifted off. Indeed, Sweetie Belle was right; a pale shimmer painted two walls—one directly in front of Scootaloo, and one off to its side. It was a strange sight. In the back of her head, Scootaloo had accepted that this would only lead to nowhere: no light, no hope, just a thick sea of shadows. Not that she was complaining. On the contrary, her grin was so wide that it reflected what little light there was like a lantern filled to the brim with oil.

Still, she couldn't show too much excitement. If she did, it would show her friends just how doubtful she had been. If there was one thing they didn't need to see right now—besides yet more endless darkness—it was a lack of confidence. After all, who'd follow a pony into hell if that pony wasn't willing to take the steps in the first place?

It was a welcome relief when her hoof ran out of wall and pressed against only open air. Her father had often told her that good things come in waves, and as Scootaloo looked off to where the wall used to be and was greeted by a room with lit torches and a large door in plain view, the saying rang more true than ever. Could this be the turn? How long would it last? Could the be the last good thing?

No. Patience, Scootaloo. Take 'em as they come, one step at a time.

Her hooves grew lighter and more confident with each step towards the room. The walk only felt like seconds, and she was surrounded by golden light before she could even gasp. The room wasn't large, but what it lacked in size it made up for in decor. Vases three times taller than her surrounded her, placed in between colossal marble pillars. The door seemed to stretch beyond the ceiling, and flanking its sides were two dragon-faced effigies, bright flames shooting from their mouths lighting the room. The door had no latch, and pushing against its monstrous form only lead to exhaustion.

How do I get in?

Scootaloo sighed what must have been her thousandth sigh of the day, and tossed her saddlebags onto the floor once more. She wondered why she even bothered tightening the straps anymore. Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool still sat at the top of the pile, partially sticking out of the bag. She knocked it out of the bag and to the ground with a single flick of her hoof. Opening it to a page she had bookmarked with a twig, she began to scan the somewhat blurry words.

Daring Do looked at the massive door, then to the walls around it. "Hmm..." She tapped a hoof under her chin. "This is definitely the griffons' work."

"What makes you say that?" Cay asked.

"These markings," she said as she motioned to two small claw-like shapes painted onto the door in what looked like blood.

Scootaloo looked up from the book and scanned the door. The flickering flames made it hard to focus, but her gaze caught a hint of red on the left side the door—right at her eye-level. She stood and walked over to it, leaning in until her nose touched its cold surface, and squinted. Sure enough, there were two blood-red markings. She didn't try to hide her smile as she headed back to the book.

"So, it's made by the griffons. Big deal. What's that have to do with anything?" Pallah muttered.

"It means we know how to get in." Daring's grin could light a room.

"How?" Cay scooted in closer to the other two, though she made sure to keep a good distance from Pallah.

"A talon. A single digit on it to be exact. See this hole?" She pointed at a small circular hole to the side with her wing. "A griffon sticks their talon in there, pokes a device with the sharp tip of their... what do they call those things? Fingers? Pokers? Eh, that doesn't matter. Anyway, they just poke it and that triggers the locking mechanism, and presto! Instant entrance!"

Once again, Scootaloo looked up. This time her eyes met their goal almost immediately. The hole was barely wide enough for a quill, let alone a hoof. She groaned and shook her head. Two steps forward, a hundred steps back.

And then realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes lit up and her mind whirred. Daring didn't have a griffon in her party, so she had to get in there some other way. A stick or something like that. Hooves shaking, she looked back to the paragraph.

"And just how are we gonna get in there?" Pallah asked flatly. "Not sure if you noticed, Darey, but we ain't exactly the claw-y bunch here."

"They're called talons, Pallah," Daring said with a smirk. "And don't worry your tiny brain. I just so happen to have a solution right here." She rummaged through her saddlebags and pulled out a one-hundred-percent genuine griffon talon.

"How the hay'd you get that?" Pallah asked.

"Archeology department at Pranceton is located right next door to the infirmary. So... I borrowed it." She laughed, ceasing when she noticed the shocked looks on her companions' faces. "What? I'll give it back!"

Scootaloo lightly punched the book, her optimism draining with a single drawn out breath. She scanned the ground around her, and found the item she was half-heartedly looking for: a stick. Taking it in her mouth, she slowly moved over to the keyhole. She knew it wasn't going to work, but for some reason something inside her told her to give it a shot anyway. She sighed once more, closed her eyes, and inserted the twig. There was a click. She opened one eye, a sliver of hope sneaking into her brain. It was quickly washed away when her sights fell upon the snapped-off end of the twig sticking out of the hole like the nub of a severed limb.

"Well...crap," she muttered, reaching into her saddlebags and looking for something—anything—that would do. Unfortunately, she hadn't planned on keeping a journal or writing letters to herself or anything like that, so she lacked both quills and pencils. Grunting, she glanced over her shoulder. "Either of you got any, like, griffon claws or something like 'em?"

Blank stares were the only response she received.

She sighed. "Ya know, like a pencil or something."

"I have a few bobby pins," Sweetie Belle answered.

"Great! Can I borrow one?"

"Sure." Sweetie Belle reached into her bags and pulled out a jumbled mass of pins. Scootaloo couldn't help but smirk. Taking one of Rarity's bags. Some days you really impress me, Sweetie.Scootaloo took one of the pins between her teeth and moved back to the door. She pushed and twisted and wriggled the tiny piece of metal with all her might, but the sweet sound of a clicking lock remained unheard, and the door stayed locked. Eventually, the pen was as twisted as a corkscrew, and Scootaloo found herself at square one once more.

"Anything else?" she asked again, not even bothering to turn around.

"No."

"Nope."

Scootaloo sighed. It looked like she'd have to do a bit of thinking. She sat back on her haunches and went through various possibilities, from cannonballs to dragon fire, battering rams to apples. None of them seemed right, though—it didn't take a genius to figure out that throwing apples at a thick stone door would only damage their food supplies.

Then her thoughts drifted to where she was—the memory of the glare of Proxis sending a shiver down her body—and the light bulb turned on. Of course! A smile slowly growing on her face, she marched past her friends and back down the hall.

The walk was a lot quicker the second time around. She was back in the temple, looking over the many statues, in the blink of an eye. Stone-carved griffon to stone-carved griffon, she looked them over like a general inspecting their troops. And like a general inspecting her troops, Scootaloo was only finding problems.

Each statue was as tall as three hers stacked atop one another—their beaks were as long as she was! Because of this, the claws were wide. Far too wide to fit in that tiny door-hole. Not to mention that they were made of stone: how the hay was she going to break stone?

Simple answer: she couldn't.

No, Scootaloo thought as she quickened her pace, I can do this. I can do this. I can—WAHH!Before she knew what was happening, her face had been introduced to the temple floor. Lifting her head and groaning, she turned to glare at her attacker. What she found though made the inferno in her eyes turn to a heavenly glow. The talon that had broken off the statue! She wouldn't even have to worry about breaking one off.

Scurrying to her hooves, Scootaloo practically flung herself at the fallen rock and began to lift—or at least, attempt to lift. The talon felt like a giant block of lead. Sweat was pouring down her face in a matter of seconds, and her forelegs felt like they were about to be ripped from their sockets, but still she persisted. She had to. She had to get through that door, she had to reach the pool, she had to save Rainbow Dash. She had to.

"Scoots, what the hay are ya doin' ta that rock?" came Apple Bloom's voice from somewhere behind her. It sounded distant, muffled, foreign.

"What'cha think?"

"I'd rather not say... or think 'bout for that matter."

Scootaloo rolled her eyes and continued to pull on the talon. Any moment now. She could have sworn she felt it lift a couple of inches a few pulls ago. She was making progress. Soon it would be fine.

Suddenly, she felt a hoof on her shoulder. She turned and saw Sweetie Belle staring at her, eyes wide. They were filled with questions, concerns. Scootaloo looked down at her hooves, then back at Sweetie Belle, and then they finally settled on the talon. She couldn't even see it.

"It wouldn't fit anyway," Scootaloo mumbled. "It's over."

"What do you mean?" Sweetie Belle asked, tilting her head to the side.

Scootaloo bit her and looked up at Sweetie Belle. She could feel her eyes burning, could feel the tears streaming down her face and mixing with her sweat. "I failed her." Without another word, she walked out of the temple, shoulders slumped and her entire body—from her forelegs to her very soul—screaming in agony.

The grass was green but out of focus. Behind her, the voices carried on, their words clear but falling on distraught ears.

"You talk to her."

"Why me?"

"'Cause she actually likes ya."

"That's not true, Apple Bloom. She's just as much your friend as I am."

"Yeah... I sincerely doubt that. No offense, Sweetie."

"None taken. Still, one of us better go up there. I don't think she even knows where she is."

"I don't think she has for awhile."

"She's outside."

"I ain't blind, Sweetie Belle."

"I know, I'm just—"

"Worried. I know, I know. I'll go get 'er."

Scootaloo didn't hear the leaves crunching under heavy hoofsteps, nor did she notice when a shadow fell across her on. She barely even felt the hoof press against her chest and skull thump against hers. Her thoughts were a swirling mass; nothing was clear, but all of it was very loud. The voice had returned, its words indiscernible against the wall of wailing white noise, but she could tell from its tone that it was laughing: slow, raspy, mocking, hateful.

Another voice entered the fray. It was faint, but stern. The accent, unmistakable. "Scoots..." was all it said. And that was enough. She looked up, eyes locking with a yellow nose, then a set of narrowed eyes. The storm in her head ceased. All was silent, save for a gentle breeze.

"Hey," Scootaloo mumbled.

"What's wrong?"

Scootaloo backed away and shook her head. She looked at Apple Bloom, then the sky—when had it gotten so late? Her gaze lingered on the orange sliver of the sun that still hovered above the trees before moving back to the temple. It was engulfed in shadow. A wave of terror rushed over her. Then her sights fell upon Sweetie Belle. She stood atop the steps, wind tousling her mane, eyes shining with worry.

Numb. That was the only word Scootaloo could think of to describe herself at that moment. The storm in her head and heart had blown over, leaving only doubts and uneasiness in its wake. The voice remained, laughing like a jester, burrowing into her brain. She frowned. What do you want from me?

The laughter stopped. A single word permeated through her mind like a scream in the dark.

"Failure."

The storm came back; this time not as a whirlwind but boiling lava. She closed her eyes, spit on the ground, and marched back towards the temple. So, it thought she was a failure, huh? We'll just see about that, friend. No way she was going to give the voice the satisfaction.

There was no answer. Good. It had finally learned when to hold its tongue—had finally learned that it was wrong.

As she trudged up the steps, she locked eyes with Sweetie Belle and shot her a small smile. Sweetie leaned back, blinking rapidly, but a grin soon crossed her lips as well.

The moment was broken by Apple Bloom quite literally pushing herself between the two fillies. She looked at Sweetie Belle, then Scootaloo, and then Sweetie Belle again. There was a long pause before she nodded. Her gaze lingered on Scootaloo for far longer than she was comfortable with before veering off to the area around them. Scootaloo followed her gaze as it went from tree, to hill, to rock, and back again. Eventually she turned her attention back to the temple and sighed. "It's gettin' dark, and I don't see any real decent shelter 'round here. No caves or big trees or nothin'. Temple might do fine, but..." The words drifted off and she turned her sights on Scootaloo once more.

"Y—" The words got caught in Scootaloo's throat. She coughed before continuing. "Yeah, that'd probably be good. There's a hole in the roof, but..." She glanced at the sky. "Doesn't look like it's gonna rain anytime soon, and it's not that big a hole anyway." She gave a ghost of a smile. "Good idea, Apple Bloom." The words drifted between them, through them, iced their veins. In that moment, the world could have snapped under the weight of that simple phrase. Scootaloo swallowed hard, adam's apple burning. Apple Bloom simply stood still, as if she had been replaced by a bust bearing her likeness. It felt like an eternity had passed before Scootaloo cleared her throat once more. "So, yeah. This should be good."

Apple Bloom nodded ever so slightly, chin barely moving a millimeter. "Yeah..." she said, her words as icy as the air around them.

Without another word, Scootaloo moved around Apple Bloom and headed to the door. She stole a glance at Sweetie Belle, who bore a look of utter confusion. She could see the question hanging off her lips: 'What?' With a sigh, Scootaloo averted her gaze. To answer would be to go back there. Not even Celestia herself could make her go back there.

Upon entering the temple again, Scootaloo skidded to a halt. She looked from wall to wall, statue to statue. Something wasn't right; there was a feeling hanging in the air. She looked at the statue of Proxis, and she seemed to glare back—pupils slitted, brows furrowed, its beak seeming to curve into a slimy smile. Scootaloo shuddered, trying her best to force her eyes away, but for some reason her gaze remained glued to those dead, stone eyes. For the briefest of moments, she thought she heard deep, throaty laughter. She took a couple of steps to her right, putting a pillar between her and Proxis. Only then could she blink, only then could she breathe. Turning her back to the pillar, she lowered herself to the ground and leaned back, the cool rock soothing her aching head.

Soon Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle took a seat near Scootaloo, forming a very messy isosceles triangle. Apple Bloom looked at the statue looming over her head and made a noise halfway between a chuckle and an whimper. "Well," she muttered, "these things are gonna be at the front of my nightmares."

"Tell me about it," Sweetie Belle said with a shiver.

It was nearly completely dark; the breeze was picking up. Scootaloo could hear the creaking tree branches, carrying on through the room like ghostly chains. She wrapped her forlegs tight to her chest, lowered her chin until she could feel it rise and fall with her quivering sternum, and bit her lip. She'd heard about the infamous 'Northern nights' from her father—"Bottom of the ocean isn't that cold," he had said—but to actually witness one firsthoof was something else entirely. Each shaking breath sent forth long wispy trails, and she watched as her breaths floated off, rising up until they disappeared. Though her eyes remained on the ceiling, she could still hear the chattering of her friends' teeth. Eventually, she sighed and stood up, knees popping and a loud groan rising from her chest. Without a word—just a raised hoof to her shivering friends—she walked out of the temple.

The moon had risen and the stars dotted the sky, as if somebody had taken a pin and poked hundreds upon thousands of holes in the air. The wind was stronger out there—nippier too—but she barely felt it anymore. All around her, trees towered, their jagged limbs sticking out and silhouetted by the night. Each gust caused them to lean forward; they all seemed to aim directly at her. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Scootaloo could have sworn her heart stopped at that moment. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she continued to wander around on shaky legs, eyes locked on the ground, searching for firewood. Unfortunately for her, the area around the temple only seemed to hold twigs. Oh well, it would have to do; a fire was a fire, no matter how dim.

The walk back was equally slow, dread weighing down her legs. It was such a familiar feeling: in the woods in the middle of the night, surrounded by Celestia knows what. She couldn't help but feel as though she was being watched. Each step seemed to be followed by another softer one underneath, and there was always that one "tree" that didn't bend in the breeze. Still, she kept her head and eyes dead-set in front of her, and that thing little more than an a shadow in the corner of her eye. It was there. She could feel it, hear it, smell it. Maybe if she didn't look, she'd be fine.

"And if you don't, you're a coward," the voice in her head said, as venomous and smug as ever.

For once, she agreed. After all, it was probably just a rock, or a stump, or even her own imagination. What kind of pony was scared of an inanimate object—or worse yet, something that didn't even exist? Not her. Not Scootaloo, second-greatest pegasus pony Equestria had ever known. What would Rainbow Dash have said to her if she saw her trembling over nothing? Well, she'd probably whisper words of encouragement, but what would she really think of her. That she was a coward? A laughingstock? Something she was ashamed to have ever being associated with? Scootaloo's eyes burned. She wiped them with her foreleg, keeping it pressed against her face. No. No, she wasn't a coward. And that thing was nothing—just her mind getting the best of her. She lowered her forelegs and looked off into the trees.

The beast stared back at her, red eyes glowing. Moonbeams reflected off its blood-stained claws and fangs. Even in the dark she could see that there was something hanging out of its mouth. Squinting, she was just barely able to tell it was part of a pony, probably a leg or chewed up wing. It seemed larger than ever now, halfway as tall as the trees that surrounded the temple. A low growl emitted from deep within its chest, and Scootaloo nearly fell to the ground as the earth shook.

But still Scootaloo held her grown. She stood tall and looked the monster dead in its ravenous eyes. "Well," she muttered. "What are you waiting for?"

It continued to stare, unmoving.

"What are you waiting for, huh? I'm standing right here. Do it."

If it heard her, it didn't express it.

All at once, Scootaloo exploded. "Come on! What are you waiting for! Finish the job!" She took one of the larger sticks from her saddlebags and threw it at the beast. Her aim was true, but the strike didn't even phase it. She roared. "Come on, you coward! Get over here and finish what you started, you fu—" She was cut off by something grabbing her and pulling her bag. Whirling around, she lifted her foreleg and nearly punched Apple Bloom square on the nose. Apple Bloom's eyes were wide, jaw hanging loosely. In an instant it transformed into a cold stare.

"What the hay are ya yellin' about?!"

Breathing heavily, Scootaloo looked back at the woods. The creature was gone—vanished without so much as a single step. "No," she replied. "Just thought I saw something. 'S nothing." She kicked at a twig laying on the ground, then bent down and took it in her mouth, tossing it in her bags. "Got some firewood."

Apple Bloom arched an eyebrow. Scootaloo let out a soft groan. That eyebrow meant one thing: Apple Bloom was about to unleash a lecture.

Instead Apple Bloom reared up on her hind legs, heavily setting her forelegs down on Scootaloo's shoulders. She pressed her nose against Scootaloo's; her breath smelled of old apples. Then, through gritted teeth, she spoke. "Seriously, Scoots, what in the hay is goin' on with ya? You're freakin—"

"There's nothing wrong with—"

"—me out. Is this about Rainbow Dash? 'Cause if it—"

"It has nothing to do with that—"

"—is, then you know you can talk to me about it—"

"I don't—"

"Celestia knows I understand where you're comin' fr—"

"No, you don't!" Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom away, nearly sending her toppling over onto her back. "At least you didn't kill somebody you cared about. I killed the only damn thing I had left!"

"Now, Scoots, don't talk like that. We didn't—"

"You know we did, Apple Bloom. We're the killers here, and you need to just face the facts. If we hadn't been so... so stupid, we wouldn't be here. Rainbow would be alive. Everything would be just fine. But, no, you just had to come up with one of your 'brilliant' ideas, didn't you?"

Apple Bloom glowered. "Don't you dare blame me for what happened to Rainbow!"

Scootaloo scoffed. "Why shouldn't I? You blame yourself enough as is!"

"Shut up!" Apple Bloom roared.

"What's the matter? Scared of the truth?"

"I ain't no dang murderer! She died. That sucks, but I ain't gonna have you goin' 'round sayin' that it's my doing!"

Scootaloo grabbed one of Apple Bloom's forelegs. "Our hooves are covered in her blood, Apple Bloom! We unleashed it all. We may have not dealt the final blow, but let me tell you, we're just as guilty."

"It was an accident!"

"That could have been avoided if you hadn't come up with that stupid plan!"

"That was your idea, not mine." Apple Bloom's face was as read as her mane.

"Maybe, but I wasn't actually gonna go through with it. I mean, 'Cutie Mark Crusaders Treasure Hunters?' Did you honestly think that would friggin work? I just threw it out there for giggles, and you decided that it was some sort of genius idea."

"I'm getting tired of you accusing me, Scoots. I ain't gonna have you try and guilt me into—"

"You haven't seen what I've seen!" Scootaloo shrieked.

"We both saw it, Scoots." Apple Bloom's voice was calm, too calm. "We saw it happen, every second. We both saw her lyin' there. The sound, the blood, the panic... These eyes—" She pointed at hers, then Scootaloo's, and then hers again. "—these eyes have seen the same thing. Seen enough. And they ain't gonna stop seein' if you don't get someone ta filter out the light."

Scootaloo sat back on her haunches and crossed her forelegs. "So you just want me to shut the blinds? Act like everything's fine?"

Apple Bloom made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a grunt. "No, 'cause I know it's not. Not for you. Not for me. But, danggit, Scoots, ya need to just chill out." She leaned forward and placed a hoof on Scootaloo's shoulder. "I know how bad this has to be for ya—if it tears me up inside as much as it has, I can't even imagine what you..." She looked off, eyes gleaming in the starlight, and sighed. "Doc says it's natural for us ta blame ourselves for what happens to those we love. 'If I'd only written that letter.' 'If only I'd walked in the door a second sooner instead of grabbin' the newspaper.' 'If only I didn't go to the scary castle in the middle of the Everfree Forest.' Everything's just one big theory. 'If only, if only.' But askin' questions and creatin' theories is only gonna open the cut. Sometimes ya need ta stop lookin' for ways ta fix things and just accept that they're broken. Then ya can come ta terms and move on."

Scootaloo sighed and shook her head. "I appreciate what you're doing, Apple Bloom, but... it isn't that easy. Can't just cry a few tears and get a few hugs and expect everything to get better overnight. Movin' on from a broken thing is kinda hard when that thing's jabbed itself into your heart."

"Never said it was easy," Apple Bloom said. "I was just saying that maybe you should talk about this rather than lettin' it build up in ya. I'm worried about ya, Scoots. Ya know that, right? I don't hate ya."

Scootaloo sniffed and blinked rapidly. "I don't hate you either. I'm just..." She sighed. "Just in a weird spot right now."

"We all are."

"Look, I can see what you're trying to do, Apple Bloom." Scootaloo rose to her hooves and walked over to a nearby stump. Once there, she gazed at the moon. For a split second, she thought she saw the shadow of a pony stretch across the surface. "You're thinking that if I talk this out, I'll stop all this and go back home. Won't work, I'm afraid. This... this is something I just feel like I need to do."

"And why do ya feel like ya need ta do this?"

She sniffled. Her chest felt like a giant, empty hole. She wished there were clouds in the sky. At least then she could blame her damp cheeks on rain. "Because I need something." She wiped her face and turned to Apple Bloom. "Look, I'm cold and tired. Let's just go back inside and warm up, okay?" She tried her best to force a smile.

Apple Bloom nodded. "Sure thing. I could use some shuteye anyway."

"Sounds like a plan." Scootaloo's eyes lit up. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have any marshmallows, would you?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"Nothing. Just thought s'mores sounded good right about now."

Apple Bloom groaned. "Danggit, Scoots. Now ya got me wantin' s'mores."

Scootaloo laughed. Apple Bloom soon joined in. The laughter carried into the temple, where Sweetie Belle joined in after a few failed attempts at asking what all the yelling was about. Deep into the night they laughed—laughed over stories, laughed over stupid jokes, laughed over anything and everything. They didn't stop until their chests couldn't take anymore. By then their eyes had already closed, and the campfire had dimmed to embers.