The wishing well, the wishing well,
For all your hopes and dreams to tell.
In darkest night, with no moonlight,
You wish it with a penny bright.

A small group of colts and fillies sang as they skipped along to school. The sun blazed overhead, and not far from it, another bright star shone. Not that anypony could see it. It wasn’t really part of Luna’s domain; for only a couple of hours before dawn, it would look over the landscape, but soon enough, the sun would overpower it.

Always wishing, these ponies. By a well, over a birthday cake, on a star. First star I see tonight. Always the evening star, never the morning. Never the morning.

---

Rarity put down the scissors and pins she was levitating. Heaving a sigh, she slipped out Carousel Boutique’s front door and trotted through the deserted streets. Thick clouds above had completely obscured the moon, but she knew the way. When she had arrived at a familiar clearing just outside of town, she walked the last few steps to the low stonework of an old well and sat.

“Look at me. Even wasting time here, when I don’t have enough of it to spare.” She let her eyes drift closed and slumped a little closer to the ground.

Behind her, a dark shape slowly bulged from the underside of a large branch. It fell to the ground, piece by piece, like thick globs of sap, each one making a wet splat. It grew little by little, with each new drip, until it surged upright and stumbled forward. As Rarity caught herself nodding off, the amalgamation slid up beside her and reached an oily arm around her shoulder.

Rarity jumped and yelped as she banged a foreleg against one of the well’s timbers. “Oh! I didn’t expect anypony else to be here at this time of night.” Rubbing her bruise a bit, she turned to see her unexpected companion, but couldn’t make anything out in the darkness. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have been spouting off my personal thoughts like that. It’s not... ladylike.”

“Oh, you having nothing to fear from me. We’re all friends here, after all. I didn’t mean to startle you, dear.” The voice’s source withdrew a bit before moving around to the far side of the well. “I’m much like you. I just found myself a bit out of sorts and needed to take a walk to clear my head.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Rarity said, holding a hoof to her chest. “I’ve got so many orders due. In fact, there are six dresses that need to be shipped off to Canterlot by noon today. I’m not even halfway finished, but... I felt like I might collapse.” She took a deep breath and let it out gradually, bracing a hoof against the masonry.

“Of course, of course. We all have competing demands on our time. Always in a rush. It can help to stop and vent once in a while.”

“Yes, but... at the expense of the very thing I lack, it would seem.” Rarity pursed her lips and drooped her ears. “You see, my personal life often takes a back seat to the professional, but I simply can’t disappoint my clients. I have a reputation to maintain. However, you’d think that after all these years at it, I’d have found the balance.”

“Who could possibly blame you? Your job provides you the means to have a personal life in the first place.”

“I suppose so.” After brushing away a few strands of mane she could feel against her cheek, Rarity stood back up and gave a weak smile. “Well, the sun will be rising soon, and I still have much work to do. I should be going.” She creased her brow a bit as the figure moved back around the well toward her. “You’ve been a good listener.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ve found that it’s something I do rather well. And now, that sense is telling me that there’s more to it. Please pardon my being forward. I don’t mean to pry, but if it might help...”

“Well, I...” Rarity looked downward and turned her head away.

“It would only take a moment.”

Letting a long minute of silence pass, Rarity finally answered, “It’s just... my sister...”

“Go on.”

“I rather enjoyed the closeness we shared some days ago at the Sisterhooves Social. It’s not really something I’d made time for, but it meant so much to her.” The faintest pink glow began to breach the horizon, and even in that low light, her eyes glimmered. “She’s growing up so fast, and she’s becoming an interesting young lady. I owe it to her, as well as to myself. I wish I could spend more time with her.”

“You wish?”

Nodding, Rarity cocked her head toward the well. “Maybe that’s what drew me here. Just a bit of foalish silliness. I haven’t been here in years.” She sighed and shook her head. “Sweetie Belle can be a lot to handle, to be sure. But she’s my sister, after all. I’d like to play dress-up with her, watch a movie, talk about her dreams... but who has the time? And frankly, at this point, why would she want to?” Rarity sat in the grass once more and wiped a hoof across her nose. “She’s learned quite well to do without.”

“It’s never too late.” As it approached, Rarity still could only make out a vague form. Finally looking directly at it, she couldn’t discern a face, even in the growing dawn light. “I think you’ll find that you have more time than you realize.”

Rarity could just make out a pair of eyes in the shadow. They were right next to her. She lifted a hoof off the ground to be ready for... something. To run. To hold up to her face. To push the thing away. Only she hadn’t. Her hoof sat unmoving while she tried to tear her gaze away from those eyes.

---

Trotting from one of her ponyquins back to the shelves of fabric, Rarity paused to look in the mirror. Try though she might, she couldn’t get her eyes more than halfway open. Her frayed coat hadn’t been brushed in days, and her mane stuck out at all angles. Turning her head this way and that to see if the bags under her eyes were a trick of the shadows, she sighed. The glow around her horn fizzled out, letting the sketch she was carrying drift to the floor.

She picked it up in her mouth and walked back over to her table, where yet another half-finished shawl lay. Gritting her teeth for a moment, she managed to coax a feeble glow from her horn and set her needle to looping through the fabric once more. She dared not run her sewing machine in these pre-dawn hours, so it meant doing everything by hoof.

Her workroom should have been a light and airy place. But the curtains had all been drawn for some time, and all the windows were tightly shut. A cardboard sign beside the front door read, “Please pardon the inconvenience, but by appointment only until further notice.”

---

Awaking with a start, Rarity looked around in the broad daylight. She’d made little progress overnight. And she was already a week overdue. Glancing at the clock, she wiped a trace of spittle from her cheek.

She shot to her hooves, sending her stool clattering to the floor as she dashed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she emerged with a steaming bowl of vegetable broth and carried it upstairs to Sweetie Belle’s room.

“Are you awake, dear?” she whispered as she poked her head through the doorway. Getting no response, she gingerly set the bowl down on the bedside table. She was just turning to leave when she heard a stirring under the covers and pricked her ears toward the sound. “Sweetie Belle?”

Her sister rolled over to face the door and craned her neck to squint at Rarity. Sweetie Belle plopped her head back down onto the pillow as she gathered the sheet, comforter, and quilt more tightly around herself. The entire bed shook with her violent shivering.

“Here you go, dear. This will help warm you,” Rarity said as she levitated a spoonful of soup. Sweetie Belle squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Please. For me. You need to keep your strength up.”

Sweetie Belle tucked her chin and grimaced as she gulped hard, then slurped the bit of broth. One spoonful at a time, she made her way through half the bowl before she shook her head once more.

“That’s a good girl,” Rarity said, smiling as she wiped the sweat from her sister’s forehead with a dry washcloth. “Now, if I draw you a hot bath, will you come down the hall with me? I think it will make you feel a little better. And breathing the steam should do you some good. I’ll give you a nice change of sheets while you’re in there, too.”

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes,” she croaked. Rarity lifted the corner of the covers, and the rush of cool air made Sweetie Belle shake even harder. She rolled off the mattress and made her way to the bathroom on wobbly knees, pausing a few times to catch her breath. After Rarity had let the water run up to temperature, she had to levitate her sister into the tub.

“There! You just have a good soak, and I’ll see to the laundry.” Rarity walked back to her sister’s room and threw open the window for the short period she might be able to air it out. She stripped the bed and carried the bundle of sheets back downstairs with her, leaving them in a pile by the stack of her freshly cut fabric that also needed washing.

---

Rarity sat on a stool in the middle of her workroom. She had finally filled an order of six dresses, albeit three weeks late. Thank Celestia they hadn’t been needed by a specific date. She needed to get started on the next set, especially in a moment like this one, when she likely had more than five minutes to dedicate to it.

But there she sat.

Her head in her hooves, Rarity stared at the wall. There was a small, barely discernable mark on the plaster. She might not have even noticed it before, but now it gave her eyes somewhere to focus. Maybe an hour had passed, maybe thirty seconds.

She jolted to her hooves when she heard a sudden fit of congested coughing from upstairs. She rushed to Sweetie Belle’s side and helped her to sit up, thumping her on the back. At long last, Sweetie Belle finally stopped, wheezing and gasping for air. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she mouthed a silent “I’m sorry.”

“Shush, dear. It’s no trouble,” Rarity declared as she tucked Sweetie Belle back in. “You’re my sister!” She smoothed Sweetie Belle’s mane back. “Now, try to get a little more sleep. I’ll be back up a bit later to read you some more of that novel.” As she walked out, Rarity quietly swung the door around.

On her way down the stairs, Rarity heard the bell on the front door jingle, and looked over to see Pinkie Pie, who had a covered tray balanced on her back.

“Hi, Rarity!” she whispered. “Is Sweetie Belle doing any better?”

Rarity blinked once and shook her head.

Sliding her tray onto a table, Pinkie took off the cover to reveal an array of bite-size cupcakes with a hollow space in the middle of each. “I thought it might be a little easier for her to take her pills if you stuffed ’em in something sweet!”

Her eyes tearing up, Rarity walked over and hugged Pinkie. She didn’t let go for a long time.

Finally, she winced at the sound of another bout of coughing, drew a sharp breath, screwed up her muzzle to hold it in, and headed back for the stairs.

---

Well after midnight, Twilight Sparkle left the library and trotted off to the edge of town. She’d scouted out most of the good sky-watching spots by now, but she hadn’t tried this particular one. Better yet, she’d estimated it would have a great view to the east, which would be optimal for that night’s action.

She settled on a nice spot of grass next to an old stone-and-timber well and looked up into the blackness. The height of a meteor shower had coincided with a new moon; it was not an event to be missed.

In the small amount of time it had taken her to unpack her sky chart and notebook, she’d already noticed five thin, red streaks cross overhead. She could barely see in the dim starlight—still enough to record her observations.

Leaves rustled and branches swayed in the renewed breeze, drowning out a dry whisper moving through the grass. Several dark streams oozed toward each other, slithering through the grass until they finally merged. The blackness bubbled and roiled upward to form a lurching figure behind Twilight.

A few more trails glowed in the sky, then a bright white fireball flew over, the momentary lull in the wind allowing her to hear a far-away hiss and pop as sparks shot from it.

“My, that was a good one!”

Twilight started and dropped her notebook, her head whipping around at the sound.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The initial traces of a spark grew from the tip of Twilight’s horn, but she snuffed it at a quick word from her visitor.

“No need for that, Miss Sparkle. You’ll ruin your night vision for some time, as well as mine. We wouldn’t want to miss any of the show.”

“Who’s there?” Squinting, Twilight could see something vaguely like a head turn to face her.

“Oh, just a fellow enthusiast of astronomy. I must say, this is really a spectacular convergence of circumstances, and a prime vantage point.”

After hesitating for a moment, Twilight nodded and gazed back up at the stars. “Yes, it is,” she said, groping about in the grass for her pencil. “Too bad the one last year was obscured by rain clouds. I had a word with a few weather ponies about it, but they insisted on sticking to their schedule.”

“Different priorities for different ponies. It’s unavoidable. But sometimes things work out in our favor, yes?”

“Mmhm. Would you mind checking the temperature for me? Thermometer’s over there,” she said, pointing next to her saddlebag. Though she never heard any hoofsteps, the voice was suddenly beside her.

“Thirteen degrees centigrade.”

“Thank you,” she replied as she peeked out the corner of her eye, but still couldn’t make out a face.

“Wouldn’t you like to see one of those up close? It would be pretty amazing.”

Twilight shrugged. “It’s more the effect they create that’s interesting. They’re just chunks of rock and metal. Besides, it wouldn’t be very practical. You’d have a hard time keeping up with it, and it would only last a short time.” She glanced over toward the sound of laughter.

“Oh? I suppose so. I guess I just try to see things from an artistic perspective at times. But of course, you’re right.”

As she ticked off meteor counts in various columns on her page, Twilight let the minutes tick by in silence. The light wind had become more steady, and she could hear the nightingales calling to each other in the trees.

The voice reappeared, but this time on her other side. “So there’s nothing you want? To be honest, that’s why most ponies come out here. And with the falling stars, too...”

“I’ve never had much use for wishes,” she replied with a wave of her hoof. “Nothing comes of them.” Her pencil scratches coming less frequently now, Twilight made one last mark before flipping her notebook closed. “Well, I should be going. I promised to help Rarity take care of Sweetie Belle tomorrow.” Hearing a chuckle behind her, Twilight stood and faced the sound. She creased her brow as she frowned. “She’s gravely ill. Do you find that amusing?”

“No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean any offense. I just thought it was rather sweet of you to offer.”

“Oh.” Letting her shoulders relax, Twilight resumed stuffing her supplies back into her saddlebag. “Are you headed home as well?”

“No. I’m here for the duration. Say, you’re sure there’s nothing you want? As long as you’re here, you know.”

Twilight shook her head and smiled a bit through her yawn. “I’m not a foal anymore,” she said, reaching for her pack.

“What could it hurt? Go on—try it. It can be therapeutic.”

Forcing a smile, Twilight looked upward and tapped a hoof on the ground. After a moment, she took a breath and cocked her head. “Actually, I wish we had some new books for the library. Several of the better astronomy references are getting worn, and many of the children’s books could stand to be replaced.”

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Twilight nodded as her grin softened. “I guess n—” Twigs cracked behind her, and Twilight turned to get a look at her companion. She lit her horn, but it did little to penetrate the gloom. All she could see was a pair of eyes. “What? Who are you?” She was sure she’d spoken, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Nor would her legs. Her own eyes grew wide as that gaze continued to advance.

---

Twilight took a few hesitant steps toward the library, looking at the leafy boughs overhead. They brought a small smile to her lips, but it didn’t last. She made her way to the front door, which hung loosely on one hinge. Pushing it open the the sound of a metallic whine, she ducked under the ribbon of caution tape and went inside.

Once she was in the middle of the main room, she plopped heavily to the floor. Her gaze traversed the blackened shelves, wispy scraps of charred paper, and overturned chairs. The draft she’d let in swirled around, lifting up little curls of ash in multitudes and spinning them about the debris that littered the ground. Most of the room had dried out, but water still dripped from a few points along the ceiling beams. Twilight reached out to the large central table next to her and prodded a hoof at its leg. The burnt wood buckled, sending the tabletop crashing down amid a gray cloud. Wincing, she jerked her leg back and folded her ears down.

To her other side, a book lay open, face-down in the grime. Twilight levitated it up and flipped it over to reveal just a cover with a few stubby shreds of pages left inside. She could just make out the words “Daring Do” on one. The rest just stuck together in a soggy lump, the ink all running together. After a moment, she let it slide out of her grasp and tumble down.

She stared at all of it, just taking it in, but it looked so distant. Like she was seeing it through her telescope. Her telescope... It wouldn’t have survived. That was a fact. Another fact, to be filed away with the rest.

How? All those books, maps, instruments. Just gone. That word had never carried such real, weighted meaning before. Gone.

She stood back up and stumbled over to the kitchen. Dishes had fallen from the crumbling cabinets and lay in shards across the floor. Stepping gingerly around them, she saw a pair of deformed drinking glasses in the drying rack by the sink, all melted, twisted, reformed in some fanciful shape. She pulled one to the edge of the countertop, watched it teeter there for a moment, gave it a little nudge.

It smashed on the floor. Smashed. Into a thousand particles, maybe even a million. She saw them all, in slow motion, streaking over the sooty floorboards, stars against a night sky. Glittering. But not forever. Stars must fall.

She blinked and stared. Then blinked again.

Twilight walked back out to the main room, a little blood trickling from a nick on her leg. Carefully, she placed one hoof on the bottom step and put a bit of weight on it. A bit of creaking, but no more than usual. She climbed the staircase to her bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs, eyes closed. Finally, she staggered in. The fireponies said it had started in here.

Bits of cloth lay strewn about, some with still-recognizable buttons attached. Her saddle. Her birthday dress. Shoes from... her Gala outfit...

Her mouth finally broke its firm line, its corners quivering. An unexpected gust catching her attention, she looked up at a large hole in the window and pricked her ears toward it, then traced the wooden frame’s debris down to the huge hole burned through the middle of her bed. Right where she would have been sleeping.

Lighting her horn, she pushed away the tatters and splintered boards. Underneath, an object was embedded in the floor. She focused her magic on it, wresting it left and right until it popped free. A meteorite, about half as big as her hoof. Heavily oxidized exterior, mostly nickel and iron, judging by the grain showing from a small break on the corner. Just imagine the places this thing has been...

Twilight heard the front door groan again downstairs as somepony else pushed it open. The last hinge gave out, and the whole thing thudded to the ground, accompanied by a little yelp. Letting the meteorite settle onto the windowsill, Twilight looked down to where Pinkie stood on the threshold.

Pinkie let go of the bag she held in her mouth, and it gave a metallic jangle when it hit the floor. “Twilight!” she called, wearing a massive grin. “The bake sale went great. We made enough bits to buy a new set of books for the library!”

Twilight’s mouth contorted as she struggled to keep her face straight. She hurried down the stairs as the first tears escaped her control. Closing her eyes, she latched her hooves around Pinkie’s neck and stayed there for several long minutes.

---

Gravel crunched under the wheels of Applejack’s cart as she towed it into town. Each turn of the axles brought a fresh squeak. They sure could use a fresh coat of oil. Especially in this weather.

As mile after mile passed by, the morning chill finally made its way through her coat. She was near the end of her journey, but had actually arrived a bit early. The market wouldn’t open for another hour and a half, and it wouldn’t take her more than thirty minutes to get everything set up. There was plenty of time for a little break.

Humming to herself, she pulled over by the roadside, unhitched the harness, and walked on over to settle down in a patch of grass. She pulled an insulated bottle out of her saddlebag, unscrewed the top, and took a sip of hot spiced cider. Around her, wisps of fog rolled about, muting any view of the moon into a dull glow from all over. A few tendrils of fog escaped her mouth and nose as well, swirling away with each breath.

Applejack brushed her hoof over the frost-tipped blades of grass and stashed her bottle back in its place. As she let the canvas flap fall back over her saddlebag, she cocked her head at it. She flipped it back open and pulled out her bit pouch. It had a more high-pitched jingle lately—not that heavy clink from when it was nice and full.

She got back to her hooves and strode over to the old well she knew was nearby, leaning on the edge and peering at the hints of trees in the mist. “Sure would be nice to have more’n a couple o’ bits to rub together.” She sighed and looked back to where her half-filled wagon lurked by the road. “Early frost is doin’ a number on the trees, though. After this summer, I was hopin’...”

A few of the darker, denser clouds floated toward each other, looping, swarming into one. Each tiny droplet met another, melting and congealing, until a large black shape stood behind Applejack.

“Business not goin’ so well, friend?”

Applejack’s hoof slipped off the well’s rim, but she caught herself before she fell. “Oh. I-I didn’t expect anypony’d be out here. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, don’t pay me any mind. ’Tweren’t your fault. I should be apologizin’ for scarin’ you. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

Applejack held a hoof to her chest and gulped, forcing herself to take a few slow, deep breaths. “No, no. I should be goin’, anyway. I know how ponies have their particular spots.”

“Please, sit a spell. This ain’t my spot any more than the next pony’s. It’s meant for sharin’.”

“Do I... know you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she squinted through the haze. “I don’t meet too many folks ’round here without an accent.”

“It’s possible we’ve met. I come across a lot of ponies. I don’t really keep track.”

“I’m just takin’ a load in for market day.” Applejack tipped the front of her hat up a little higher. “What brings you out here?”

“You know. Chores, stuff to fix, and what have you. Better to get ’em done ’fore first light. Just stoppin’ for a breather.”

Nodding, Applejack leaned back against the masonry. “I ’preciate a good work ethic. Well, to answer your question—no, business ain’t been so good lately. This frost lost us a lot o’ apples,” she said while sweeping a hoof around at the clearing’s white-tipped carpet. “It’s okay for now, but whatever hasn’t ripened already ain’t gonna make it.”

“Ooh. ’S a shame. Awful sorry.”

Applejack gave a half-smile and stared off at the hidden horizon. “Nothin’ you coulda done, sugarcube.” She scratched a hoof at the dirt and bent her ears down. “We put so much work in this summer, and there was plenty o’ rain all spring. I was lookin’ forward to bein’ the class o’ all Equestria this year. But we might be lucky to break even.”

“You’re in it for the long haul, though. Keep grindin’ away—that’s what I always say. One bad season ain’t the end o’ the world. You seem more the practical sort. Tell you what—leave a wish behind. That’s what this here place is for, anyhow. Won’t hurt a bit.”

Rolling her eyes downward, Applejack sighed and held her thoughts for a moment. “Why not? It always seems like we’re so close. I wish this year we’d done it. I wish we were the top apple producer in all Equestria.”

“There. Feel better?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Say, ain’t I s’posed to throw in a penny or somethin’?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just a bit o’ foolin’, anyway. And you of all ponies know better than to waste a penny.”

“Heh. You sure I don’t know you?” Not waiting for an answer, Applejack trotted back over to her cart and took an apple from the top of the pile. She turned back toward the voice and tossed the apple toward it. “Here. Have one on the hou—”

The fruit landed with a soft thud and rolled a short distance. Applejack stood transfixed as the shadow moved out of the fog toward her, gliding over the grass.

It’s just another pony. No reason to be afraid. So why did she have the urge to whip around and kick as hard as she could? In fact, she could have sworn she already did. But there she sat, stock-still, as it kept getting nearer. It was close enough to touch now. But all she could see was a pair of eyes. Eyes that she desperately tried to avoid, but she couldn’t help herself.

---

Applejack trotted on one last circuit through the apple orchards. A lot of the trees already had discolored leaves. For the ones that looked salvageable, at least the younger ones, she’d thrown coverings over them, but there was just no way to get them all. There were hundreds of trees. The oldest could probably make do, but she just had to accept that there were going to be losses. At least Rainbow Dash had agreed to bring in some clouds overnight to keep in any warmth they could. Every degree would help.

Apple Bloom would be off weatherproofing the barn, and Big Macintosh was no doubt gathering firewood at the edge of the forest. How many of these apple trees would be firewood next year?

A cold front was coming through. Applejack could see the line of clouds approaching from the southwest, and they’d already covered the sun. She was out of burlap, anyway. Whatever was going to happen couldn’t be changed now.

She galloped to the nearest hilltop and surveyed the acres of trees. All the crop that could be harvested had been, the hardier trees would be okay, and the majority of the saplings had been protected. She breathed a sigh. It was going to be fine. It’d be a shame to see anything go to waste, but there wouldn’t be enough losses to threaten the farm. It was going to be fine.

After hearing that reassurance one more time in her mind, she forced a smile and galloped to the house. Apple Bloom probably wasn’t finished with the barn yet, so she figured she’d better get started on the house. A few gaps in the boards to caulk, inspect the roof, and such. She was rummaging around for some of the pitch to make up a nice batch of oakum when she heard the bell tinkle at the front door.

Applejack walked over to the entryway in time to see Derpy flitting off against the increasing wind. She poked her head out the door and flipped open the mailbox’s black lid. Just one letter. A scroll? With the royal seal?

She rushed back inside with it, carefully cracking the wax insignia and unrolling the page on the kitchen table. Her jaw dropped just a few sentences in.

As quickly as she could, she ran to the back door. “Apple Bloom!” she yelled toward the barn. Seconds later, her sister’s head popped out from the hayloft, and luckily enough, Big Mac also came around from behind the barn to see what the ruckus was. She waved them over, her mouth still hanging open and her eyes wide.

“What is it, sis?” Big Mac asked once they’d gathered in the kitchen.

The paper rattled as Applejack flailed it about. She jabbed her other hoof toward it and flopped into a chair. “There’s been an apple blight. All over Equestria.” Her mouth kept working, but nothing came out for a few long moments. “Appleloosa got it... the worst. Ha-half the trees are dead.”

Abruptly sinking to his haunches, Big Mac glanced at Apple Bloom, who just kept looking back and forth between her siblings. Big Mac lifted a hoof to his head and rubbed it through his forelock, over and over again, while staring at the floor.

“Braeburn... Bloomberg... I don’t know what’ll happen to ’em.” Applejack’s lower lip jutted forward as she rubbed her nose. “We’re the only farm that had anything near a full crop this year. We’ve been ordered to ship everything we’ve got off to Canterlot, startin’ tomorrow. They’re buyin’ it all, lock, stock, and barrel, to ration out.”

Big Mac stood and nodded sharply. “That’s all there is to it, then. C’mon.” Without another word, he was out the door. Always duty first with that one.

She was close behind when she noticed Pinkie Pie coming up the front walk, so she trotted around to meet her. “I’d love to talk, Pinkie, but an emergency’s come up.” Applejack stared at the horizon and pressed her hat down a little further over her mane. “I-I’ve gotta get to work, and it looks like it’ll be in the rain to boot,” she said, rolling her eyes up at the clouds. She fidgeted a hoof against the dirt path.

“I heard already, Applejack,” Pinkie said, breaking into a wide grin. “I’m here to help!”

“How...?”

“Hehe! Princess Celestia sent Twilight a letter too, so she could organize everything. Everypony’s on their way over to pitch in.” Pinkie closed her eyes and bounced a bit in place, but she was soon anchored to the ground by Applejack’s strong grip. She reached a foreleg around Pinkie’s neck and hugged her tightly.

---

Twilight was the last one through the library’s door. She pulled it closed against the rising wind that flung fat raindrops against the windowpanes.

“I don’t think I want to see another apple for weeks,” Rarity said as she rubbed a towel over her coat.

“Aw, you say that now, sugarcube,” Applejack remarked through a forced smile, “but I bet you’ll gobble up an apple tart the next time you see one.”

Dabbing the towel behind her ears, Rarity turned her nose up. “A lady does not gobble.”

“Just the same. Thank y’all so much for your help.” Applejack grinned at her friends as she shook the water off her hat and placed it back on its perch. “Can’t believe we got all those apples boxed up in just the one evenin’.” She reached for the small toolbox on the table beside her and carried it over to the last remaining bare wall.

“Applejack!” cried Twilight. “It’s late! You should be going to bed.”

Applejack closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t sleep anyway. Feels good to get some more work done. You mind, Rarity?”

“Not at all, dear.” Rarity levitated a long piece of oak planking against the wall while Applejack slid out a few of the nails she held between her lips and hammered the board in place.

“I’ll just get us some hot drinks.” Twilight walked toward the kitchen, her own towel still draped over her head. “How’s Sweetie Belle, by the way?”

A strained smile stayed in place as Rarity’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, we do fine. The doctor still can’t figure out... what’s wrong. Oh, I simply must thank Spike for sitting up with her tonight,” she added. “I just wish...” Her eyes went wide, and the next board she had at the ready suddenly clattered to the floor. “I wish...”

Twilight had stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong, Rarity?”

“I don’t know,” Rarity replied, her words coming out in a rush as she stared out the window. “The night Sweetie Belle took ill, I had wandered out to that old wishing well.”

“Oh, I know that place!” interjected Pinkie. “The wishing well, the wishing well, for all your hopes and dreams to tell! In darkest night, with no moonlight, you wish it wi—”

“That’s just it!” Rarity shouted. “It was dark! So dark that I couldn’t see. I-I wished... I wished... And then I was home.” She held both hooves up to her mouth and looked to Twilight.

“I was there, too.” Squinting her eyes, Twilight came back away from the kitchen. “During the meteor shower. I... wished...”

“Two days ago,” Applejack chimed in, “early in the mornin’. I stopped there on my way to the market. I wished... I don’t know. Next thing I know, I was in town, settin’ up my wagon.” She exchanged long glances with Rarity and Twilight.

After a lengthy silence, Twilight finally spoke. “What... happened to us?” Rarity just shook her head, but Twilight ran over to her in an instant. “Think! What happened at the well!”

Her breath catching in her throat, Rarity stared back and stammered a few unintelligible words.

Twilight whipped her gaze over to Applejack. “You stopped on the way into town! Then what?”

“I... I don’t...” Applejack pounded a hoof against the wall and gritted her teeth. “I don’t like this one bit! Ain’t there somethin’ you can do?”

Twilight held a hoof to her chin and nodded after a moment. “I could try a lucid dream.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “A what now?”

”I might be able to recover the memory.” Taking a deep breath, Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and charged up her horn. After several agonizing minutes, her breathing became faint and slow, her chin dipped to her chest, and her eyes slid partway open, revealing a milky whiteness. “I was... watching the meteor shower,” she began in a dull monotone. “I took some measurements.”

“What’s she doing?” Pinkie whispered. “it’s kinda... creepy.”

“It looks like she’s forcin’ some kind o’ sleep.” Applejack walked over to brace Twilight, who had begun wobbling.

“Just meteors. Streaks in the sky,” Twilight mumbled. “All alone. Nopony was there. I must not... Nopony was there.” Her breathing quickened. “Nopony. I must not remember. I wish...”

“All alone. I wish...” echoed Rarity as she rocked back and forth in her chair.

“I wish,” Twilight continued, “that... I told it wishes were pointless. I saw... eyes. I can’t move. Eyes. Coming toward me.” She gasped for breath and began shaking. “Eyes! I... have to forget! The eyes! Stay back! Stay back!”

Rarity had curled up in her chair and was still rocking. Applejack just stared at the wall, mouthing along with Twilight. Finally, Pinkie jumped over beside Twilight. “Stop it!” Pinkie shook her as hard as she could. “Stop it!”

Twilight blinked and stumbled against the wall, her eyes shut once more. “I wished... that there were new books for the library.”

“...That I could spend more time with Sweetie Belle.”

“...That Sweet Apple Acres was the top farm in all Equestria.”

“...And it told me,” Twilight rasped, her tear-filled eyes back to normal as they gazed up at Pinkie, “I must not remember any of it.”

Twilight held a hoof to her forehead until her frantic breathing had subsided. “We have to go back.”

“Now?” Rarity asked, backing away.

“Yes,” replied Twilight through clenched teeth. “You heard Pinkie. ‘In darkest night, with no moonlight.’ The storm. It’s our best chance for a while. Unfortunately, all of the pegasi are busy with the weather. But we four can handle it. It’s time to end this.”

---

Pinkie Pie wore her umbrella hat as she sloshed through the slick grass and walked up to an old stone well. “I wish, I wish, I wish!” she chanted into the wind.

“C’mon, Pinkie,” hissed Twilight from her vantage point across the road, “don’t overplay it.”

Pinkie continued bouncing through the clearing, each landing sending up a fresh spray of water. “The wishing well, the wishing well, for all your hopes and dreams to tell! Hehe!”

A few of the isolated pools moved toward each other and strained upward toward the sky. Bubbling columns of moisture twisted and braided together, warping into a rippling mass. The sheets of rain bent toward it, sucked into the black shape that shambled over to the well. “My, you’re an eager one. What a silly filly!”

Her eyes dancing, Pinkie whirled around. “I know! It’s kind of a thing for little colts and fillies, but I love wishes. I have so many things to wish for!”

“Okie dokie lokie! But you know wishing wells only give you one, so make it extra special. Hehe!”

“I can’t do that!” Pinkie said, a toothy grin stretched across her face. “Who could ever decide?”

“It’s just a game.”

“Oh! I love games. But a game has rules.” Pinkie declared with a brusque nod. “Why don’t you tell your Auntie Pinkie Pie?”

It sighed. “I’m a year older than—”

Pinkie landed with one final splash. Her face fell.

“Don’t look at it!” Twilight screamed as she charged forward, her horn blazing. “Keep your eyes down!”

Pinkie snapped her gaze to the waterlogged grass, her knees trembling. “Flu-Fluttershy?” she whimpered.

Rarity gasped and Applejack held a hoof up to her mouth. Only Twilight kept up her stern gaze. She flooded the clearing with her light spell, and the murky shadows melted away, dripping down like mud, to leave Fluttershy standing there shielding her eyes from the light.

“Remember, everypony, don’t look. That’s why we couldn’t think about what happened. She used The Stare and ordered us to forget.” Twilight lowered her head to hide Fluttershy’s face in the gleam of her horn.

“So, how did you remember, my dear, sweet friend?” Fluttershy hissed, her words dripping venom.

“In a dream,” Twilight replied. “I saw your eyes again. There’s no mistaking them. Once I had that detail, it brought back everypony’s memories.”

Fluttershy snorted. “Clever. I suppose I’m not going to have any more luck in this town, hm?” She turned around and stalked off toward the treeline. “I’ll just find another obscure little corner of Equestria to settle in. There’s never any shortage of wishes.”

“Fluttershy... Wait!” Pinkie pleaded. Her mane hung down straight, trailing over the wet ground. “Why?”

“You ponies!” spat Fluttershy. “You and your wishes. What good have they ever done? Wallowing in your own self-interest like a bunch of swine.” She flicked her mane and continued on toward the forest.

“You of all ponies! How can you say that!” Applejack yelled, pointing a trembling hoof and risking a glance at Fluttershy’s face.

Fluttershy strutted back toward the group, her jaw set. She pointed at Rarity. “You wanted time with your sister. All to yourself. And you—” her hoof moved over at Twilight “—precious books for your library,” she sneered. Finally, she stuck her nose right up to Applejack’s. “You’re worst of all. Money, money, money.” With each word, her frown grew deeper. “Even this one,” she added, jabbing a hoof at her chest, “just wanted something for herself. It’s pitiful!”

“You mean... you’re not Fluttershy?” Twilight asked. She dimmed her light enough to see the glare shooting back at her.

“Oh, I am. And more.”

As Fluttershy squinted back, Twilight became aware of a loudening growl beside her.

“How dare you! How dare you!” shouted Rarity. “I wanted to spend time with my sister for her sake! I know she looks up to me, and she deserves that attention. My wish was that I could be what she needs!”

“And lots of ponies use those books!” added Twilight. “If I were being selfish, I would have only asked for books I use, or a new telescope.”

Fluttershy narrowed her eyes to slits and stared back for a moment before jerking her gaze once more to Applejack. “How about it? What’s your excuse?”

“I just wanted... to fix Granny’s hip.” Applejack sniffled as she hung her head. “And be able to send Apple Bloom to college. They deserve it.”

Fluttershy huffed and spread her wings. “It’s easy to fool yourself afterward. Justify it however you like.” She crouched to take flight, but Pinkie reached a hoof up to her shoulder.

“What did she wish?” she asked quietly, her ears flat.

“What does it matter? She was just another greedy pony.”

“She’s the sweetest one of us,” said Pinkie. “I think she’ll surprise you. Give her another wish.” Her teary eyes shone as she looked up.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Fluttershy snapped. “She already had hers.”

“Then give me mine. I wish...”

Fluttershy launched herself skyward.

“I wish you could see the truth. That we care. That we want the best for each other,” She called into the air.

Fluttershy stopped, just above the treetops and looked back.

“That you could have what you want. That you could be happy.”

Her wings holding her in a hover, Fluttershy scanned the smiling faces below.

---

Fluttershy went about her early morning routine, checking over her garden and putting out feed for her animals before they awakened. A few of the more industrious birds were already warming up their voices in the branches overhead, but most of the world still lay asleep.

This time was always special to her. The bats, owls, and other night life had already returned, and there wasn’t enough sunlight to wake the rest yet. So quiet. So peaceful.

Taking a moment to rub her sore muscles, Fluttershy made her way down the front path. She’d spent the previous day helping Applejack set up for the Sisterhooves Social, and she knew Sweetie Belle in particular had been looking forward to it.

She sat in the grass by the edge of the duck pond and closed her eyes. “It makes me feel so good to be kind to others,” she murmured just above the sound of the stream. “I wish I could feel that way all the time. I wish I could be even kinder to everypony else and make their wishes come true.”

Raising her chin, Fluttershy opened her eyes slowly, but the bright morning star she expected to see wasn’t there. Odd. She could have sworn she’d noticed it lots of times before. She might have to ask Twilight about it later. The other one, too—the one she hadn’t observed until last night, that was the first one out. She could wish on th—

No. Wishes were silly things. Silly things for foals. She could make it happen herself.

She walked back to her cottage, where she could hear the first of her critters stirring.