Chapter 2: The Sweetness of Morning

Hempy Hooves lay on his back in his antique oak bed and stared at the ceiling, as he had done through the entire night. His wide, pink eyes didn't blink away the sun as it moved across his face at dawn. A magnolia blossom, carried by a mischievous wind through Hempy's open window, fluttered and twirled across the room, brushing over his nose. Yet he didn't so much as sneeze. Instead, his full attention was on the lack of noise downstairs. Bluegrass and Turtle Sundae, his housemates, would be up soon. While he knew Splicer had been secured in the basement, locked in a drawer and further enclosed by the heavy freezer doors, he also knew he had absolutely no poker face. He knew too well that he couldn't be his usual, mellow self so long as his newly undead friend was trapped in his basement. Pele had warned him of the danger of Splicer's exposure and the panic such an event would induce. What if Turtle Sundae caught him off guard and he accidentally exclaimed something idiotic, like, "ZOMBIE IN BASEMENT DON'T LET HER BITE WHY DID I SAY THAT!" Sundae could easily set him off like that. She had that effect on ponies.

The creaking of old floorboards caused Hempy to flinch. Somepony was in the kitchen below. In an instant, he was out of bed and headed for the iron spiral staircase that lead to their small, neat kitchen. He intentionally clopped his clumsy way downstairs in an attempt to sound relaxed and at ease. When he reached the kitchen, he found it empty. He peeked around the rectangular island counter in the center of the room in case somepony was out of view behind it. Nothing. No kettle of water was heating on the stovetop; no evidence of fresh fruit graced the table. Maybe his imagination had got the better of him.

With a relieved sigh, Hempy opened the refrigerator. His night of battling zombies and panicking at the thought of one in his house had left him famished. A bowl of sliced strawberries, like little red and white hearts, caught his attention. For a few moments, he considered the possibility that they were reserved for strawberry shortcake or some other creation by Sundae and that by eating even a few of them he was risking a severe reprimand from his strict housemate. However, upon sampling one lightly sugared slice, he concluded that risk was worth taking.

As he placed the bowl on the counter, a soft twang sounded from the living room. Hempy tensed, nearly toppling the fruit. He waited for another noise. Eventually, another small note reached his attentive ears. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. It was only Bluegrass, tuning one of her instruments. She often used the living room as a workshop for her fine creations. It was littered in partially finished fiddles and banjoes in need of strings. The diligent artist must have been the one making noise earlier. Hempy smirked and hopped onto a stool to enjoy his breakfast. Bluegrass would surely be surprised to see him up so early. He'd have to invent some reason for his peculiar behavior.

A sudden crash sent Hempy flailing from his seat to the hardwood floor. He clumsily got back to his hooves and stumbled toward the living room.

"Blue! You okay?" he called as he rounded the doorframe separating the rooms. "Did something OH MY SHIIIIIIT!"

The pony standing in the center of the tastefully decorated room turned toward Hempy's horrified shout. She stopped gnawing on the incomplete neck of a banjo to stare at him with her haunting red eyes.

"Sp…Sp…Sp-Splicer!" Hempy gasped weakly. He was frozen to the spot, unable to look away from Splicer's focused yet strangely vacant gaze. She began to shamble toward him, stumbling over an upturned coffee table without so much as a blink. Hempy's knees quaked and threatened to give out completely. "Whoa, Splice… it's me, Hempy, your b-buddy. Remember? R-remember?" he stuttered. His vision was growing dark in the edges, with the occasional burst of little silver sparks. Now was not the time to pass out. Splicer appeared unaffected by his reminders.

"It is six in the fucking morning. What the hell could possibly be going on so loudly at six in the motherfucking morning?"

Turtle Sundae's powerful voice snapped Hempy from his panicked trance. He slammed the door, trapping Splicer in the living room, and hurriedly nosed its bolt to lock it as Sundae's heavy steps grew louder on the wooden main staircase near the front door. He threw himself against the door, reared on his hind legs, as Sundae marched into the room through the doorway across from him. She was a sturdy, formidable pony, yet beautiful, an asset she was known to use to instill an admiring terror in both friends and enemies. Her cream pelt was marked by a swirling depiction of a fudge and caramel sundae in an elegant glass on her rump. Even so early in the morning, her thick, spiraling mane looked quaffed and precise with its layers of rich brown, white, and caramel coloration. Her dark, keen eyes nearly terrified Hempy as much as the zombie which was now nudging the door behind him, slowly, methodically.

"Good morning, Sundae," Hempy shakily replied through a tight grin. "I was just… making… breakfast for everybody. Because I never do that, and I felt bad, you know? You guys do so much around the house, so I thought I could do something for you." The door he was pressed against jolted again and he raised his voice to cover it. "I'm so BLESSED TO KNOW YOU GUYS."

Sundae quirked a brow and stared at him with half-lidded, judging eyes. She glanced at the single bowl on the counter, seemed to consider it, and then returned her suspicious gaze to Hempy. "Were you planning on making breakfast with my strawberries?" she inquired in a flat, chilling tone. Hempy began to consider joining his undead friend in the living room. It seemed like a safer plan than answering Sundae's question.

"What? Uh, no, absolutely not. I just pulled the bowl out so I could, uh, get some other ingredients out that were behind it. But I got distracted. But now I'm totally on task. Totally on task. So, why don't you trot back on up to bed? You're not usually up at this hour, right? Sorry I woke you up-"

"What was all that crashing and yelling before?" interrupted Sundae sternly.

"Well, I wouldn't phrase it like that. It was more like a crash and a yell."

"What the hell was it?"

Hempy was nearly thrown away from the door as Splicer rammed it. Sundae's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head.

"What's going on in the living room, Hempy Hooves?" Her cold voice nearly stopped his racing heart.

Light steps on the metallic stairs distracted both ponies. Bluegrass, her straight, blue mane loosely tied up and a silky robe draped over her shoulders and back, drowsily descended the spiral staircase. The instrument-making unicorn yawned as she stepped between Sundae and Hempy, her mouth opening wide enough to close her sleepy, honey-colored eyes. The dawn's golden light illuminated her dark brown body and brought out her sweet cream freckles. Hempy whimpered a little as her cutie mark, a four-string banjo, reminded him of her destroyed work in the room behind him.

"Everything okay down here?" she asked with a tired half-smile. "Sounded like there was some sort of ruckus. Ooo, strawberries…" Blue casually took a seat on the stool Hempy had been using before and used her magic to encase a strawberry slice in shimmering green, blue, and yellow energy. She lifted it to her mouth and chewed the soft, sugary piece, apparently oblivious to the tension between Hempy and Sundae.

"Everything's right as rain, Blue," Hempy chimed, his smile broadening absurdly as he pushed harder against the door. The pressure behind it was becoming constant, with the occasional extra bump he had to subdue with his awkwardly upright pose.

"Don't know what kind of rain you're talking about," Sundae snorted. She pointed an accusing hoof at Hempy. "I honestly don't know why I'm letting him stay in this house. He never does housework, he barely contributes to the bills, and Celestia knows what's going on in that damn basement garden. Now he's got his rowdy friends in my living room, very possibly trashing it. I sincerely hope none of your fiddles and whatnot are in there, Blue."

"Oh, yeah, my friends… I'm so sorry about this, Sundae. Splicer's been having a really…" Hempy paused to search for the right words. "Death-defying week. It's really getting to her. In fact, I should really make sure she's alright. I mean, you should have seen Merrybrook Meadow last night. Swamped with the affected. Not to scare you guys or anything, but definitely more than we've seen since the whole mess began. I think it spooked poor Splice a little."

"Splicer?" Sundae echoed incredulously. "Your buddy with the club?"

"Well, yeah, just because she's, you know, rugged, doesn't mean she doesn't get a little scared by them sometimes," Hempy awkwardly sputtered.

"Maybe I could cheer her up. Looks like you've been up all night. You should really wash off," Bluegrass suggested. As always, her voice was low and warm. She slanted her sage, hooded eyes at Hempy, who in turn looked himself over. To his embarrassment and disgust, he found she was right. Mud and an uncomfortable amount of blood caked his purple pelt, partially obscuring his familiar five-fingered leaf cutie mark.

"Shit… I'm sorry, I'd get this taken care of right away, but I can't leave Splicer in the state she's in. I wouldn't subject you to her, Blue, but that's really kind of you and all," Hempy said. "I'll just go back in and settle her down. Give us a few minutes to clear out."

"No, I think we should go in and see the poor dear ourselves," Sundae sarcastically offered. "If she's so upset she's upsetting my furniture, that is."

"You know what? I'll ask her," Hempy replied meekly, edging a hoof to the door's handle. His pink eyes snapped toward the window. "Oh wow, a thing!"

In days as tense as these, Sundae could not be blamed for glancing at the window as well, and even as she did so, she winced at the idiotic technique which had distracted her. As she furiously turned back toward Hempy, the living room door was banging shut behind him. Sundae hissed an oath and stomped her cream-hued hoof. Blue paid no attention to the decoy or Sundae's reaction. She calmly continued to munch strawberries as Sundae indignantly tossed her curly mane and stormed out of the kitchen. "If they aren't out of my house in ten minutes, I'll see them out myself," she announced from the main stairs as she returned to her room.

"I'm sorry," Hempy squeaked to Splicer, who was sprawled several feet from the door thanks to a hefty kick from him once he entered the room. He couldn't have her tearing into the kitchen (or into his flesh). She got back to her feet in her unnatural, ungainly way and turned her vague, hungry gaze to Hempy. "Now, just stay there for a moment. I'm going to find a way to get you back in the basement until Pele and Cheer get here, okay? Don't you like it down there? With all the pretty plants and a cozy little locker to sleep in?"

Splicer tilted her head, almost as though she were considering it. She took several lilting steps toward Hempy, her mouth opening and closing slowly, like a fish's. Hempy tried to separate her former identity from her current monstrosity, as Pele had suggested before departing to gather all the research she could through the night. This was not Splicer. This was a mysteriously reanimated dead creature with an appetite for flesh and nothing else. Of course, as vegetarian creatures, no one in town had spare meat lying around with which Hempy might appease her. And where were Cheer and Pele? Had it really taken all night for Pele to find the few newspaper articles in the library which contained information about the nature of the affected? And Cheer had been tasked with assisting the burn crew, but such a job was long done by now. She was supposed to have come by much earlier.

Hempy was yanked from his thoughts by a guttural grumble from Splicer. She seemed to have remembered her purpose and was staggering toward Hempy too quickly for comfort. He bounded to the side and she stumbled into the wall, smearing blood and grime on the light, Victorian wallpaper. Hempy scuttled behind the overturned coffee table as Splicer corrected herself and targeted him again. She charged ferociously, if clumsily, toward him. He hoisted the table at an angle by the legs, using it as an oversized shield which the zombie bashed against with unexpected force. Hempy tripped backwards from the power of the collision and his hind hoof smashed into the banjo Splicer had been gnawing before. He tried to shake his leg free of it, and the distraction gave Splicer the chance to strain her neck across the barrier and snap her teeth inches from his turned face. Hempy released a startled cry and clattered farther back. Splicer's forelegs were braced against the tabletop and she pushed it and Hempy against the wall. He was now trapped behind the table, whose legs prevented him from being completely crushed as Splicer struggled against it.

A single knock came from the door to the kitchen. "DON'T COME IN!" Hempy howled, his voice cracking.

"Cheer Chime's asking for you out front. Kind of early for guests, don't you think?" Bluegrass asked calmly through the door.

"Thank Celestia!" wailed Hempy just before Splicer tried another snap at his nose. "Uh, yeah, she probably came to check on Splicer. Could you –OH SHIT- Sorry, could you have her enter the living room alone without you looking? And tell her Splicer's not feeling so good?"

There was a pause before Blue responded. "Sure thing. Just tell me if you need help with anything in there."

"Uh, absolutely! Thanks!" Hempy called back. "Oh! Does she have her sword on her, by any chance?"

After another pause, Blue replied, "Yep, looks like she does."

"Good, good," Hempy sighed just before Splicer began to heave herself against the table. One of the curved wooden legs cracked under the pressure. Hempy whimpered and shifted a hoof to brace the weakening side.

The door in the opposite wall opened a few inches. "I can come in, right?"
"Cheer! Yes! Now! Pleeeaaase!"

Cheer slipped into the room and closed the door behind her with a hind leg. Her green eyes widened as she took in the scene. Rather than grabbing her sword from her belt to assist, she simply stared at the fight.

"DO SOMETHING!" Hempy yelled.

"Do what?" Cheer squealed back. "I'm not going to attack my best friend!"

"She's not your friend! She's dead!"

Cheer's deep magenta bangs fell across her face and Hempy noticed, even with Splicer drooling over his table barrier, that she looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot and her wild hair looked even more manic than usual. She was known for her apparently boundless energy, and yet she seemed pulled down by an invisible weight. Her butter-yellow pelt was just as filthy as his. The table creaked again.

"Just do something, Cheer! Get her off me!"

Cheer hurriedly surveyed the room and noticed the empty fireplace a few feet away from Hempy. "Push her to your right!" she instructed as she leaped toward him. Splicer, distracted by Hempy so close to her face, missed Cheer dart by and lithely crawl beneath the table to join her living friend. He gave her a baffled look.

"We're both doomed, thanks," he sneered as tears formed in his eyes. Death was never an appealing thing, but Hempy never thought he'd meet his in Sundae's pretentiously decorated living room.

Instead of replying, Cheer launched herself into the table, forcing the left side out. Hempy glanced from her to the fireplace, putting it together. He immediately joined her, balancing the right side of the table and pushing against the left side. Their combined strength began to shove Splicer backwards and rotate her, slowly, until her back was to the fireplace and their barricade had her trapped. In a synchronized thrust, they jammed her into the opening and sat against their side of the table, panting. For about two minutes, they did nothing but catch their breath as Splicer knocked uselessly against the wood behind them. Then, as though in slow motion, they turned to look at each other.

"So, now what?" Hempy asked in a broken whisper.

Cheer shrugged.

"What? What do you mean with the shrugging and the not saying anything? Didn't you plan this out?"

"No… I pretty much saw the fireplace, and that was the extent of the plan," Cheer answered. She gave an exhausted, goofy grin.

"Oh Celestia… there's a zombie in my fireplace, a banjo on my foot, and my housemates are going to kill me. No matter what happens, someone's going to eat me alive," moaned Hempy as he slumped against the table.

"I know you aren't still in my living room."

Cheer and Hempy flinched at Sundae's words. Cheer glanced toward the couch and then toward Hempy, silently asking if he could manage the barricade alone. The rainbow-maned pony nodded and Cheer left him for the couch.

"We're just on our way out. Splicer's afraid to go outside just yet… is it okay if we use the basement?" Hempy called to Sundae.

"My basement? Is it okay if you use my basement? Well, I don't see anything wrong with that. After all, you've already turned my basement into your own private pharmacy."

"I grow you all sorts of spices!" Hempy cried in defense. Cheer pulled off a decorative throw blanket from the back of the maroon couch and returned to Hempy's side.

"We are going to have a serious discussion about your disrespect for myself and my house, just so you know."

"So I can take Splicer to the basement?"

"Do what you want." The sharp clops of her retreating steps and the slam of the far kitchen door announced Sundae's departure.

"Okay, slide the table over a little," Cheer said as she prepped the blanket. Hempy cautiously shifted the table and Splicer's muzzle immediately wedged into the opening. Cheer tilted her head, encouraging Hempy to scoot the table even more, which he begrudgingly did. Splicer's entire head squeezed into view and Cheer quickly covered it with the blanket. The freshly undead pony twisted ineffectively, chewing at the fabric and trying to free herself. Hempy slid the barrier enough for the rest of Splicer to come out, which Cheer promptly veiled. Splicer did not much care for being covered, and she showed her disapproval by frantically bucking and lurching across the room as Cheer haplessly tried to cling to her. Hempy threw himself across Splicer's back, curtailing some of her flailing. Little by little, the darkness of the blanket seemed to soothe the zombie, and she grew almost completely still. Hempy freed his foot from the instrument and he and Cheer began to herd her toward the door with slow, gentle steps. As Hempy reached his hoof for the oval knob, he saw it turn without his influence. He and Cheer froze, their hearts in their throats.

The door swung back to reveal Bluegrass watching them with sleepy yet curious eyes. "Everything okay?" she asked calmly, though the hesitation between her words betrayed her confusion. Splicer began to rear at the sound of a potential meal, but Hempy suppressed her.

"Yup, everything's good. Splice just needs some quiet time in the basement," Hempy reassured his housemate. He flashed an awkwardly wide smile, which Cheer mimicked, as though two uncomfortable grins could combine to make a sincere one.

"…Alright," Blue said after a moment. The uncertainty in her voice was uncharacteristic of the easy-going pony. She corrected for her questioning tone with a warm, sideways smile as she backed out of the way, allowing Cheer and Hempy to shuffle Splicer into the kitchen. "I'll get that for you," Blue offered as the trio made their sluggish way toward the basement door. Her glittering magic curled around the handle and pulled the door open.

"Thank you," Cheer whispered as they maneuvered Splicer into the narrow stone stairway.

"No problem. But can I ask why…?" Blue pointed a hoof at Splicer's covering rather than finishing her question.

"Calms her down, that's all," Hempy answered over his shoulder as Splicer faltered on a step. As he caught her, her makeshift cloak shifted, drawing up her hind leg and threatening to expose her wounds. Cheer lunged for the slipping blanket and tugged it back into place. The three ponies bumbled down the stairs, thumping into the foundation walls and tripping over their own hooves as Blue observed from the kitchen. The mellow unicorn flicked the basement lights on with a hoof as they began to dissolve into darkness. The peculiar lemony light flushed back the shadows as Cheer, Hempy, and their undead charge reached the final step.

Turtle Sundae's basement was like any 100-year-old basement: dank, cobwebbed, and spooky. The floor was formed of rough, worn cement and the walls were unevenly constructed of ancient, chalky bricks. The bared plumbing resembled cave formations, stretching from floor to ceiling against the walls, bending around the water heater. The room smelled like wet coins and earth. Even with the pair of dangling light bulbs, it was difficult to see into the corners, and thanks to extending walls, there were many corners. As Cheer stepped over a circular drain, she recalled the building's purpose. Such a large, plain basement would have been perfect for caring for the deceased. The small sections created by the extended walls offered some degree of privacy for the bodies, however strange it was to think of privacy when it came to the dead. Now, those spaces were occupied by storage boxes, full of holiday decorations, familial treasures, and sentimental pieces of junk.

Hempy blinked, unsure of his own eyes. Before him, the steel door which divided this portion of the basement from his garden room was dented, as though a great force had rammed it from the inside. Though the door was old, it was still sturdy, with a bar-lock system which normally took two hooves to undo. That bar was now bent, and the heavy door had been left ajar.

"Splicer did this?" Cheer murmured in awe. Hempy mutely nodded, his pink eyes scrutinizing the bar, trying to reason that the door was older and more fragile than he'd assumed the night before. How else could Splicer have burst through it and yet been subdued by the table upstairs?

Splicer scraped her hoof on the floor in impatience or anxiety or whatever emotion an undead creature might feel while cloaked by a blanket. With tentative steps, Cheer left Splicer to Hempy and crept toward the damaged door. She reached her leg around its edge and pulled it further open. It ground against the dirty concrete, producing a dry, broken squeal which made the two sentient ponies clench their teeth and draw back their ears. Splicer stomped and swayed, excited by the sudden sound.

Half of the garden room remained as it had been last night. The high, ground-level windows allowed a slant of morning light into the gray gloom. The light fell across tall, leafy stalks on a long, low table jutting from the middle of one wall, leaving three sides accessible. The broad leaves seemed to glow green. The floor was patterned with patches of shadow and the golden green of light filtered through foliage. Other pots, some empty, some sprouting white tendrils, some containing bound shoots of a heavy-blossomed mystery flower, were clustered on smaller tables and across the floor in rows.

Cheer flicked the switch for the long overhead light which hung from the ceiling. The remaining half of the room looked like the scene of a vicious brawl. The shards of a large clay pot were splayed across the ground, mixed with a shredded bag of potting soil and scattered seed packets. Several splashes of browning blood stained the concrete. Three metal drawers were aligned in the wall opposite most of the garden. They appeared newer than the steel door and two of them looked untouched, their clean, reflective faces hard to look at in the light. The third drawer, perfectly sized for a reclining pony, was pulled completely out and tilted to the floor like a slide. The morbid images associated with the drawers made Cheer's mouth dry, as it had the night before while they'd loaded Splicer into it.

Clearly, Splicer hadn't enjoyed her stay in the mortician's drawer. It was as though she'd exploded from her confines and released her resentment on Hempy's supplies, but only the supplies on that side of the room. Cheer cautiously stepped around the debris and scanned the area, intrigued by the limited destruction. Hempy guided Splicer in behind the yellow pony. Cheer glanced over her shoulder at the pair, her tangled berry-purple mane failing to conceal her exhausted, frightened expression. It was obvious now that she hadn't slept either, so Hempy couldn't help but wonder why she'd been so late. But it wasn't the time to worry over details. She was here now, and they had a zombie to deal with.

"Oh, your plant," Cheer murmured in a strangely mournful tone, considering the circumstance. She'd noticed a crushed grouping of leaves amidst the mess. It matched Hempy's cutie mark. Luckily, it was the only plant to have been trampled. For a while, the room was completely silent as the living ponies stared at the limp leaves and Splicer stood bizarrely still, resembling the cloth-shrouded furniture of an empty house.

Hempy's eyes moved slowly from the dead plant to the many healthy ones on the untouched side of the room. His brows pulled together and he bit his lower lip in thought before speaking. "Do you think she was high?"

Cheer blinked like a dazed owl in sunlight. Hempy quickly continued.

"I mean, the rest of the room is fine… I dunno, maybe she was flailing around over here and then smashed the one plant and chilled for a while." His ears flicked nervously as he suddenly doubted his hypothesis. "It's just weird that she only destroyed half of the room, and then busted down the door."

"But she couldn't break through our table," Cheer added. She didn't like the strangeness of it all. On top of every other recent trauma, why was Splicer not behaving in a more predictable manner? Coincidentally keeping her violence to one part of a room was one thing, but picking and choosing when to use her strength was another. If she could dent a steel door, she could very easily have overpowered the both of them in the living room.

Hempy joined Cheer in the minefield of scattered tools and supplies. He flipped over a pair of shears he used in exterior gardens. The wooden handles were gnawed to splinters, and the blades were bent and riddled with little nicks, teeth marks. "What was she doing?"

"Craving iron, I'd wager."

It took several seconds for the sleep-deprived Cheer and Hempy to realize that neither of them had made that reply. When they did, their simultaneous reaction was loud and clumsy. The pair bumbled into each other and slipped on the loose items around them as the struggled to turn toward the newcomer. Bluegrass stood in the doorway, looking almost as calm as ever. There was an unfamiliar tightness about her, however, making her casual pose seem unnatural, forced.

"You really shouldn't leave your zombie unattended. Looks hungry to me," Blue added, nodding toward Splicer, who had dislodged the blanket from her head and was dragging the rest of it behind her as she stumbled toward Hempy and Cheer. This time, Cheer did draw her hooked sword, nearly clipping Hempy's cheek in the process. He made no complaint, distracted as he was by Splicer's approach. Cheer lunged forward and began to slash the concrete inches from Splicer's hooves. Sparks jumped from her blade with each clang. Splicer didn't so much as glance down at the swipes. She lurched along, oblivious to the intimidating display, forcing Cheer to back up but not cease her swinging. The predatory tango pushed Cheer back to Hempy's side.

"Just cut her! Just cut her!" wailed Hempy, feeling just a twinge of guilt at encouraging a real attack on Splicer. He picked up an orange pot shard from the mess at his feet to wield as a makeshift dagger. Before he could make the choice to slice Splicer's nose, a burst of blue, yellow, and green encased her. Bluegrass braced herself, her horn and the magic reaching from it pointing at Splicer. Her lifted lips revealed gritted teeth. The effort required to contain the struggling zombie seemed more than it should have been, and it surprised Blue. She took firm steps backward, hauling Splicer with her.

"The weed!" Hempy abruptly exclaimed as he dropped the shard. Blue managed to send him a confused look from her mask of exertion. "Move her toward the plants!" he said, waving a hoof at the table covered in vegetation. Blue hesitated for a moment before obliging. She strained to drag Splicer across the floor. Cheer slid her sword back into her belt and, staying in Splicer's eyesight, trotted across the room and behind the table. Suddenly, Blue had to restrain Splicer rather than tug her as her potential breakfast drew the zombie toward the plants. One of Splicer's wild kicks knocked the table's edge, jolting the row of potted pot. The beam of light from outside revealed a fine cloud of particles lifting from the mass of leaves. Splicer thrashed in her magical confines a few more times before her motions became slow and weak, as though she were underwater.

"I can't keep her surrounded," Blue warned through locked teeth.

"I… don't think you need to," Cheer murmured, her eyes round with curiosity.

Blue gave her a quizzical look, obviously doubtful of the frequently manic earth pony. Cheer was rarely a trustworthy source between her pranks and sudden acts of madness in which she seemed to engage solely for the entertainment it brought her. However, on this occasion, Blue had to agree. She gently lowered the wavering orb of magic and let it dissipate as Splicer's hooves touched the ground. As gravity once again came into play on her body, Splicer swayed and took one clunky step, causing the other ponies to flinch. But she didn't resume her hunt. She merely bobbed her head like a tired young filly and stayed put. Blue narrowed her eyes and took a few cautious steps closer.

"What's up with her eyes?" Hempy whispered.

"I was just looking at that," said Blue. She closed her eyes and shook her head. When her eyes opened again, they were on Hempy with the cool intensity only Bluegrass was capable of. "Wait, wait. I feel like we passed over several remarkable things that I think we should revisit."

"They're kinda blue-ish now. Purpley? Maybe indigo," Cheer mused as she got dangerously close to Splicer's face.

"Remarkable things like: why is Splicer undead and when did she die in the first place? Then there's the obvious: why is she placated by the contents of your garden, Hempy?" Blue continued, ignoring Cheer's interruption. "I mean, I know what your garden is, but I wouldn't expect such a reaction out of the living dead."

"Big fight, she got bit, some sort of spookily cold-blooded 'let's study our buddy' idea, and I've been pushing the benefits of this stuff for years," Hempy replied. "Doesn't surprise me a bit that even zombies like it."

"Red to blue is a pretty big jump," Cheer said. She was still enthralled by the physical change. "That doesn't make any sense. Freaky. Check this out."

Bluegrass, Hempy Hooves, and Cheer Chime all leaned toward the dazed zombie to inspect the transformed irises. No trace of their previous carmine coloration remained. Surely there was some sort of logic behind it. It wasn't as though the lighting had changed, or that Splicer's eyes were prone to appearing different. There was no reason for this. All the living ponies seemed to be considering the same mystery as they stared into Splicer's vacant eyes, completely speechless, drawing closer and closer for a clearer view, barely breathing in fear of breaking the strange spell.

"Everything's gone!"

Everypony but Splicer leaped a few inches into the air with a gasp. In the doorway stood Pyroclastic Pele. Her breathing was slightly heavier than it should have been and her braids were coming loose. Yet by far the most unsettling aspect about Pele was the fear behind her serious eyes.

"Burned up. Gone. Everything," she panted.

"What is? What are you talking about?" Blue asked as she trotted toward the Pegasus.

"Manesfield. The entire city has been burned to the ground."