Afterward they stood catching their breath. Sunset stared at the table, mesmerized by the ghostly map projected on it, active and in its own inscrutable way agitated. Canterlot lay dark and foreboding. The symbol Rose had seen on the airships rotated around its vertical axis above the blighted spot. Murky tendrils already were visible, reaching out along the roads, railroad tracks, and even as the crow—or airship—flew. One was creeping toward Ponyville, the nearest settlement of any real size. "Cook? Rose? I . . . don't think we have a lot of time."