Sweetie was just laying on the rocky dirt floor after a nice drink from a bottle of courage, and she was in immediate bliss and relaxation, with a bubbly warm feeling running through her. This is the life she had come into. For once, she didn't care about the infection, or the thought of an unpleasant death possibly waiting around the next corner, as time ticked ever onwards. How wonderful that nothing bad could happen, like her brain splattering against the wall by a piece of wood a lot like Lyra's!

A pounding kick from what felt like a hoof pushed this happy moment out of sight but not out of mind, for Sweetie refused to let that happen. Way too much has gone to be let go against the wind of something. Sweetie was just confusing herself now, so she stopped while she was semi-ahead.

Rolling onto her back, with the small pebbles and rock of the floor now digging uncomfortably into her back, Sweetie could see that crazy Lyra looking down at her with a scornful look on her face. The pyre crackled, its light and heat above them so beautifully; it was like looking into the face of a painting of autumn. The dreamy leaves floating down to the forest floor, falling from the trees in a slow dance and other leaves doing the exact same thing as it had done.

Sweetie's eyes drew back to that look on Lyra's unmoving face and she didn't really like it at all, so she imagined that Lyra was wearing some clown costume. Lyra's mane suddenly poofed up into an afro and swerved colors of rainbowness like paint into its curls. Upon her muzzle, where her nostrils were, a tomato red nose grew out of the nothing that had previously dominated her facial features. Her turquoise fur now was covered in a fine white powder that looked like what mares had once used to put on their lady folds so they wouldn't smell like fish when they were in heat. Colts and stallions liked that a lot more than when they didn't. What pricks. Not much she could do about that now. They didn't even know what it felt like to feel that burning sensation in their nethers. What a horrible time that was! A polka dotted flannel one-piece covered the rest of her body, and the Lyra Clown was created, and it still didn't look much better than the original. But that scowl ruined it all. Darn imagination, not fixing what was really wrong. Might as well figure out what Miss Heavyface wants.

"You confused or something? Because you're just standing there, and that must be pretty boring."

Lyra's eyebrow rose as her bottom lip continued to stick a bit outwards without her head moving at all. In a way, she looked taller from the point of view Sweetie had. "We need to go scavenging for food, since I'm almost out."

Go out? Why not stay in? Those bottles of fermented apple juice were so good. Maybe they could live off that? "I don't wanna." Sweetie rolled back over onto her face to try and fall back into her dream state.

"Some pony drank a bit too much, hadn't they? But how could that be, she's only had one bottle and it's only been an hour. Some pony's buzzin' and a lightweight." Sweetie heard that mocking tome and didn't like it.

With a kick of her back leg, Sweetie felt her hoof connect with Lyra's own limb with a satisfying 'ooph' of surprise and a bit of blunt pain that was followed by the crashing sound of a body to the dirt she had been standing on only a moment before. Calm and collected, Sweetie got up from the ground to take Lyra's place by standing above the other while still out of reach of retaliation. "I haven't had much experience with alcohol before, seeing as how I've been on the road for the past twelve years." She stretched her cramping back muscles loose with a pop like a jailbreak.

Sweetie turned back to the fallen mare's groaning as she got up out of the dust. Without even dusting herself off, Lyra spoke with not even a hint of anger in her voice and not a blemish from her lack of emotion to something more unsuspicious. "Well, it may just be safer to drink the alcohol than the water. I've never heard of a pony lasting forever without a bite to eat or at least seeing two inches in front of your face. Now get up and forget the drink." She chuckled. "I sound like a mother. Buck you for that Sweetie! Buck you up the mare cuddler hooper hoover!"

Weird vocabulary much? Mare cuddler? Some pony's world smelled of fish. But Sweetie didn't really feel up to doing what she said because she kept changing her attitude every half a second. But to fight with a fire you need water, because more fire would just make it bigger, and if Lyra got bigger...

After so much time in fear, she had felt the safety of peace. Oh, that buzz was ending so fast now. It was going away and never coming back. Call it a bucking SISTER, MAYBE THAT WOULD MAKE MORE SENSE! But her mind had still slowed down and she was aware of it through the blood dripping down the walls into her eyes, yet Rarity could still not be seen. "How much food is left?" She asked, feeling the claustrophobic feeling of apprehension. How sick was she to have felt another feeling? And the feeling having to keep on her hooves around Lyra chiseled the bars even further. Was it because the green mare was right behind her? Or was it that Sweetie could be feeling some fear of what the mare could actually do? Sweetie didn't know, but Sweetie was going to figure it out. Yes.

"From what I've seen, I only have enough food for one pony." Suddenly Sweetie felt hooves on the back of her spine and instinctively tensed up her muscles, almost like second nature to her. Disgusting. Touch. Somepony. Hyperventilation. Lubrication. Stillwater. Grace! Off! NOW! Her breathing quickened through her lungs before she squirmed like a fish out of water out from under the touch that almost felt like rape to her. Safety.

"Well." Sweetie worked to get her thoughts right again, and to compose herself in the best and most mature way possible. If that pony touched her again, she wouldn't feel sorry offing her through a nice sharp rock on the end of a stick shoved deep into her bleeding out rectum for her to spill all over the floor. Safety. CLICK… Sweetie heard her arm pistol read her thoughts; it had dry fired. She kept her eye on Lyra.

She glared at the weapon before looking back up at Sweetie. Golden like gold that was just so golden. Could she just pop one out to save for later? "Only enough food for one pony." Her voice was like a knife. "And don't think that pony is going to be you. Keep that gun in check and your emotions as well or I swear to the never ending sun that you will not survive. Clear?" Anger and more anger. Stuff from boxes onto shelves.

"Yes and yes. Try to keep yours the same way." Sweetie back talked the other mare before she made her way to the entrance of the underground home. Who was the stupid one in this war?

"You don't have to worry about that. You'd probably be dead before then."

Was that a bonding moment? The emptiness of confusion crept up into her head as she let Lyra move up the stairs to the ground above. Ground above? Such irony. TANGENT! Back on track. Lyra and Sweetie were getting along in this strange way. The topic of death and killing hovering over everything. Was this good or bad? But that bad feeling still rolled like thunder in her brain and in her breathing…short and quick. She had to be sure that she remained behind Lyra at all times from now on. Safety.

"Hey Lightweight, get your flank up here before I cover the hatch up and forget to come back afterwards. You'll become skin and bones…" Sweetie followed with trepidation in her limbs.

Lyra was leaning against the rickety wall of the shack, looking out and around Ponyville. She almost looked like a ninja. Almost. "You look really dumb doing that, you do realise that?" Sweetie hated ninjas.

"And you sound really stupid when you don't know things, yet refuse to take time and look around to gather information before bugging some pony with a bunch of novice questions like the location of the crayon box to a certain coloring book. I told you this before. I'm making sure that the ne'er-do-wells are all gone.

Sweetie walked out into the open for any pony to see. A smug little grin tightened her lips together. "I see no pony around. There, I did it much faster and easier than you would have."

Once again, she felt hooves. Oh, she's so dead! Spinning on her hooves as she almost jumped, Sweetie began to yell: "You can't tell that I-?" But Lyra quickly threw a right hook into the side of her face, dazing her for a few seconds. When she hit the ground, Sweetie groaned at the throbbing pain in her cheek, tasking a bit of blood from biting her tongue.

"Think of this as payback for before. I always think ten steps ahead of you and wait for the moment your guard is down. Don't try and overstep me again. You will ultimately die. This dominance game you play will kill you, stop playing it." The arrogance tickled Sweetie's ears the wrong way, but she couldn't do anything about it. Before the mare could do anything about retaliation for the retaliation, Lyra stood up, looking out around them with wide eyes close to that of fear. Before she gave a yell of primal thirst, and jerking around and smashing her head through the wall of the shack. Splintering wood fell everywhere but Sweetie was too horrified at what she had just seen to react. Just how crazy was this mare? Obviously, crazy enough to smash her head through a wooden board, and succeed. Maybe that retaliation wasn't so much a good idea. Lyra was a fighter.

The mare pulled her head out from the newly created hole in the busted wall. Blood was pouring down from a large gash in her forehead, which gave Sweetie some concern. What if she became infected and kills her in her sleep or something? "This is the only way for me to get back to reality. It's through pain." Lyra simply explained. Concern? Was companionship really so subconsciously important to a pony? Social interaction? That sounded so pathetic. Lyra simply began walking down the dirt road towards the forest.

Was Sweetie just like her? Just as crazy and selfish? Did she even care? Maybe a little, as she had never looked back on her life and actions so often before she met Lyra. She peered back down the road at the receding view of the mare, and at the dark backdrop of the Everfree forest, which overshadowed the countryside in all directions. While a dark and creepy feel of the buildings was on one level, this forest, its maw open for prey, was a whole other. Would there be a cockatrice in their like the last time she and her forever friends went in there?

She picked up her pace to catch up to the now silent Lyra. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Sweetie liked to think of it as a bit of a good thing, like the mare would act like a mother to her child. Berating them with destructive words, yet now shouting, to force the lessons into her brain. Get the diapers and the foal powder for her butt, but Sweetie would only shake her head stubbornly with a silencing pacifier stuck in her mouth. From being on her own and becoming a mare in the process, Sweetie didn't want that freedom to her own little world of thoughts, once again, Sweetie never noticed till later that what was left of the buildings of Ponyville was far behind her on the dirt path and the monster of the forest came ever closer. Wow, maybe 'momma' Lyra was right that she needed to pay attention more to her surroundings. The metaphorical foal powder was applied with the bitter scent in the air from it and the constructive feeling of the crinkling trousers over her rump.

"Fluttershy's cottage looks nice, doesn't it?" Lyra's silence was broken.

"What did you say?"

She heard Lyra sigh irritably. "Nothing."

Look around, you stupid! Lyra told you this! Right, Sweetie mentally punched herself in the gut so hard her stomach juices slurped up her esophagus, burning uncomfortably like vomit. But she wasn't a masochist. It was just that the world itself was.

Sweetie did look around and saw off to the side of the path, amazed that she had missed it, stood what was left of Fluttershy's cottage. Many of the once proud trees that hung the multi-layered bird houses had been chopped down and pulled away, leaving only the empty trunks behind. A bone dry stream bed snaked its way under the tiny bridge that led up to the half collapsed door. The top half just barely hanging on to stay up. Sweetie felt so much respect for that door, as it refused to let go from what it had been. The leaves of the roof were still just as green as ever, and gave a bit of color to the house now. But no animals were to be, understandably, seen as most of them were probably dead over the last thirteen years since she'd seen them last. On her rounds saying goodbye.

As if a whisper on the wind, a song floated into her mind that was sung by a quiet and breathy voice. Sweetie began to sing along softly.

Hush now, quiet now,

it's time to lay your sleepy head.

Hush now, quiet now,

it's time to go to bed.

Sweetie silently continued to stare at the home with a few tears straining her eyes.

Lyra's voice once again brought her out of those thoughts. "I remember that lullaby."

Sweetie felt those tears and quickly whipped them away. A peak of sadness of a mountain of nostalgia welled up inside Sweetie. "It's nothing. You want to get food, well the forest is over there. Let's go."