The lightning bolt seemed to come out of nowhere. One minute the young pegasus was playing cloud tag with his classmates from junior flight camp, and the next there was a blinding flash of light. They’d been warned that sometimes the white, fluffy clouds that surrounded Cloudsdale could pack a surprise or two, but no one had taken it seriously, especially on a day when the sky was a brilliant, cobalt-blue.
As his vision cleared he looked around. He was horrified to see three of his friends plummeting towards the ground. Without a second thought he raced after them, pumping his wings as fast as he could. They’d been instructed not to try a full-power dive until they had developed more strength and experience, but the pegasus had no choice. None of their instructors were close enough to help and the other students were still trying to clear their eyes.
As he approached the first two they had already started to recover from their headlong fall. Wings extended and they began to slow. The third one, a filly named Songbird, was trailing smoke and much too close to the ground to initiate a recovery. Despite the horrible strain he felt the young pegasus redoubled his effort, swooping out of his dive just in time to catch his classmate only a dozen feet above the ground.
He heard something crack. Searing pain, then numbness lanced through his wings and the back half of his body as she impacted with him. The young colt began to wobble and he felt himself losing control. Desperately he looked ahead and spotted a large body of water just through some trees. It was the Ponyville reservoir. He aimed for it, and successfully managed to ditch, leaving a long, solid wake in his path. The water immediately extinguished and revived Songbird even as she tumbled off his back. Unfortunately, it didn’t help the pegasus any. He kicked weakly with his front legs even as the numbness spread. He found it impossible to keep his head above water. He sank into the lake and watched as his last breath of air escaped in a cascade of bubbles. His lungs felt as if they were filled with ice as he inhaled liquid. The cold waters closed in around him and the world faded from view.
Skylar’s eyes flew open and he gasped, taking in deep breaths of air. He glanced over at the alarm clock. It was 5:50 a.m., and as always the pony had woken up a full ten minutes before the alarm clock would have awakened him. Reaching over to the bedside table he clicked the alarm off, yawned, and then pushed the thick quilt away and carefully sat up. His back creaked and briefly spasmed along his wing joints. He grimaced slightly. At a little less than thirty seasons he felt as if he were feeling the aches and pains of a pony more than twice his age. He quietly wondered what it would be like when he actually was older.
Carefully pushing himself out of bed he set all four hooves on the floor before turning and gently tucking the bedding back in so his mate could get a few more minutes of precious sleep. He paced down the hall, pausing in the bathroom long enough to ‘freshen up’ as his special somepony always called it. Skylar took a passing glance at himself in the mirror just to make sure everything was still in place. His light caramel fur covered him from head to flank. His mane and tail were both a snowy white and he had a small, dark-brown patch that covered the front half of his muzzle. His eyes were chocolate brown, almost matching his muzzle and his hooves were nearly the same shade as his coat.
For a pegasi, he was average height, well-built and just a shade heavier than most because he packed more muscle into his frame than others of his clan. Walking a lot will do that for a pony. His most notable feature was his wings, or lack thereof. Instead of the feathery protrusions sported by his kinfolk he had a pair of small, almost invisible bumps where his wings should have been. This was where the ache always focused itself. Having nothing there to flex or stretch, he arched his back instead, like a cat, and rolled his shoulders. There was a small, audible pop and the ache vanished.
Feeling better, he trotted softly into the kitchen and put on a medium pan of water. When it was boiling merrily, he added a cup of dried oats and turned down the heat. He then went to the icebox and brought out some chilled, fresh fruit and put on a pot of water for tea. By now he could hear stirrings from one of the foal’s rooms. More than likely it was his daughter, Penny. She was an early riser, like him, but tended to be more thoughtful, like her mother. A few moments later he heard the door to the bathroom close and the shower come on. This was accompanied a few minutes later by the sounds of her twin brother, Clipper, as he knocked vigorously on the bathroom door.
“Aw come on! Open up, I gotta go... now.”
Skylar stuck his head into the hallway and looked at the young colt. “If you really need to go, use the toilet in the master bedroom... but don’t wake your mother.”
Nodding, the young, orange furred and blue maned pegasi turned and trotted, very quickly, towards his parent’s room.
Digging into the icebox, Skylar pulled out four lentil and carrot muffins and placed them on a plate which he then put in the middle of the dining room table. By the time both his foals were finished with their morning ablutions he had breakfast out and ready. Penny was the first to the table. Her nose was in a textbook even before she started eating. Her tan fur was neatly curried as was her dark, caramel-colored mane and tail, each highlighted with a single streak of white.
Clipper joined her a few minutes later. He dropped a comic book on the table beside his plate and began to flip through the pages. “Foals... no books at the dining table,” their dad gently reminded them. They dutifully put their reading aside and dug into breakfast. He poured a mug of tea and brought it into his mate, passing it slowly back and forth under her nose. “Breakfast’s ready honey,” he gently whispered, stroking at her blue and orange mane. The mare’s eyes fluttered open as she took a deep whiff of chamomile.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily.
“Quarter to seven.”
“Wake me when it’s ten to,” she mumbled as she yanked the covers over her head.
Chuckling silently, Skylar set the mug of tea on the side table and reached under the quilt. It only took him a moment before he found the “sweet spot” on her tummy. He began tickling her vigorously. There was about a half second delay as the sensations climbed into her brain, then the covers exploded outward and she began laughing hysterically.
“Stop! HA HA! Oh! Stop it right... HEE HEE HAW... right NOW! AH HA HA HA HA!”
The stallion jumped back as his mate took a swipe at him with one of her wings. Missing, she snatched up a pillow and threw it at him, striking him in the face. Skylar simply stood there and grinned.
“OH! That was so mean... and your hooves are cold!” Songbird chastised gently.
“Cold hooves, warm heart! Besides, you made me promise to get you up and out of bed early.
The white pegasus mare gave him a comical pouty look, then reached across the table and picked up her tea even as she sat up in bed. She took a long, slow sip on the contents of the mug, then sighed, the steam of the liquid forming a puff of vapor on her breath. “Thank-you, honey... for the tea. I think I could have done without the tickle.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “Breakfast is ready when you want to join us.”
“Can’t I just have it in bed?” she asked, giving him a big eyed look.
“Certainly. If you want...”
Smiling at his response she nickered softly. “No... don’t bother. I’ll be there in a moment.” She climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Skylar returned to the dining room and sat down.
“You and mother horsing around again?” Penny asked, a sly innocence in her expression.
“Why ask,” Clipper deadpanned. “They’ve been at it since mum put on a bridle-veil.”
“You two trying to stirrup trouble this morning,” their dad replied taking a sip on his tea. At that point the puns began to fly fast and furious around the breakfast table until Songbird arrived, at which point they stopped. She was never one for what she considered “mindless banter,” but that was probably because she was a perfectly practical pony at heart.
“Are you two ready for school this morning?” she asked, looking at the non-identical twins.
“Check!” Penny replied. “All my homework’s done and I have my notes from last night’s reading.”
“What about you?” the mare asked looking at Clipper.
“I did all the reading, but I want to compare notes with Cloud Twister before I finish my history assignment. Everything else is done though.”
“Will you have time to finish it?”
“No problem... I’ve got study hall first thing today,” he assured his mother.
“Good,” Skylar said. “I’ve got your lunch sacks in the icebox.” He glanced at the ancient clock near the door. “Cloudsdale should be drifting by in the next fifteen minutes. Make sure you don’t miss it.”
“Say dad... Why do they do that?” asked Clipper.
“Do what?”
“Set Cloudsdale to drift in a circle that goes all the way around the Ponyville Valley twice a day?”
“Well, I think it has something to do with cloud gathering and seeding. There’s a very gentle vortex here that pulls clouds into the valley. It’s a lot easier for the weather ponies to maneuver and prep clouds if the clouds come to them, rather than having to chase them clear to Manehatten.”
“My Flyers Ed. teacher said something about it,” Penny interjected. “She called it a soft tornado.”
“I remember they called it that too when I was in school,” Skylar said, a note of wistfulness creeping into his voice.
“I didn’t know you took Flyers Ed,” Clipper said looking at his dad. “It that something they teach at earth pony school?” Skylar looked at his son but didn’t reply.
“You’d be surprised by what your father knows about flying,” Songbird said. “Now, isn’t it about time you were on your way?”
Both foals excused themselves from the table and got their saddlebags from their rooms and lunch bags from the icebox. They gave both parents a quick hug and trotted out the door. The last thing heard as they stretched their wings and lifted off was the laughing challenge, “Race you!” from Penny.
Songbird looked at her special somepony. “You know, you’re going to have to tell them someday that you’re not an earth pony.”
Skylar sighed ruefully. “I know... but I think it should wait until they’re older. It’s hard enough for them to deal with taunts from their classmates that their dad’s a blank flank.”
“You are not a blank flank,” his mate said. “You just have so many special talents there isn’t enough room on your hip to accommodate them.”
“Jack of all trades... master of none. Is that it?” he chuckled.
“Well... I know one special talent you have, but it would make a rather indecent cutie mark,” she replied, kissing him passionately on the muzzle. They stayed together for several minutes like that before separating.
“Wow! You sure you don’t want to call in sick today?” he asked.
Songbird shook her head. “I can’t afford to miss today. We’re planning next season’s concert tour and we need to coordinate it with Octavia’s quartet. Besides... isn’t it your turn in the tower?”
Skylar looked at the clock. It read a quarter after seven. “Yeah... My shift starts at eight. I should get going.” He quickly slipped into the bedroom, donned his medium blue uniform shirt with the dark blue sleeve cuffs and shoulder straps; grabbed his blue campaign hat and trotted for the door, pausing long enough to return Songbird’s earlier kiss with equal passion.
She watched him as he set off for the nearby watchtower, his cantor having a certain jauntiness to it. It didn’t fool her though. She knew he missed his wings, even though he’d been without them for more than twenty years. That was why he liked working at jobs where he was high above everything. It couldn’t replace flying, but it did ease the longing.
Skylar breathed in the slightly rarified air as he made his way to work. Living and working atop Mount Lookout wasn’t as good as Cloudsdale, but the view was more than a little spectacular. He reached the watchtower in short order and quickly negotiated the 650 steps to the observation deck. Most ponies would have found the climb daunting to say the least, but not Skylar. He rather enjoyed it and preferred the stairs to the small elevator that was available.
Reaching the top, the pegasus made a quick circuit of the circular room with its wide, thick windows. He checked and recorded all the various instrument reading from the anemometer to the power levels for the large, wind driven generator that kept the tower operational. Up here, the wind never dipped below five knots, giving the watchtower and the surrounding caretaker homes a stable source of energy.
The pony on duty, a unicorn filly named Velvet Dawn, greeted Skylar and gave him a tired smile. “Morning, Sergeant. How’s the family?”
“They’re well. How’s Foggy doing? I heard the doctor cleared him to come back to work next week.”
“Only on the condition he takes it easy and doesn’t pull any more storm watches without wearing his grounding tackle.”
Skylar chuckled lightly. “I don’t think he’ll be ignoring that particular piece of safety gear anytime soon. Getting a one point twenty-one gigawatt enema should be enough of an incentive for any pony.”
Velvet snorted. “If he even tries to avoid wearing that rig, I’ll personally wrap it around his scrawny neck. Electricity and ponies just don’t mix and I don’t want another midnight call summoning me to the hospital because my mate’s been careless.”
“Amen to that,” the pegasus replied. “Any modifications or alerts to our standing orders I need to know about?”
The unicorn shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary, but don’t be too surprised if you get a Wonderbolt fly by sometime shortly after noon today. They’re mapping out the route for this year’s Grand Equestrian Air Race and they want to use the watchtower as a waypoint.”
“That’s all we need... half a dozen amateur fliers plowing into the tower because they can’t sideslip worth a damn.”
Velvet looked at the solid granite blocks that made up the tower. “Maybe we should hang some mattresses from the catwalk,” she quipped.
“Why... do they plan to hold the race in the spring?”
The unicorn mare winced and chuckled. “Ouch... That was so bad it was actually funny.” The clock above the control panel abruptly chimed eight times. Turning she walked over to a small table and quickly made an entry in the log book.
Skylar joined her and added his name as he assumed the watch. “I relieve you, corporal,” he said formally.
“I stand relieved,” Velvet replied with equal formality. “See you and Songbird at beer call this evening?”
“Sure, if Gearwork relieves me on time and Songbird doesn’t work late.”
She nodded. “See you then.” There was an abrupt flash of light and the unicorn filly vanished in a puff of imploding air. Skylar went out on the catwalk and spotted the telltale burst of light as she reappeared in front of her house some 800 feet below the tower. Teleportation spells were not truly instantaneous, though you could never get a unicorn to admit it. At least it beat both the elevator and stairs for getting to the observation deck.
The stallion busied himself checking the instruments and making his first quarter-hour scan of the surrounding terrain. From the top of the tower he could see clear across the valley, past Ponyville and all the way to Canterlot. Looking southwest, he could observe a large section of the Everfree forest as it surrounded a distant mountain range and crawled toward the horizon. That was the primary reason the watchtower had been built. Most threats that might endanger Equestria came from that direction. Often, those threats produced signs which, if seen and correctly interpreted provided some early warning. Large flocks of circling birds, surges of animal migration out of the woods, expanding dark patches of woodland... all had, at one time or another, been clues of pending disaster.
Skylar lifted a pair of military grade, magically enhanced binoculars to his eyes. Using them he could actually make out individual ponies at great distance. He swept the edge of the forest looking for anything strange. He could see the home of one of the Element bearers, a buttercup gold and pink pegasus named Fluttershy. As usual she was out in front feeding a large number of wild animals.
He panned to the left. At one point the dark edge of the forest gave way to a large apple farm that spread across several low rolling hills. A number of ponies were out working the fields. The most noticeable one was a red alicorn who had hitched himself up to a plow and was tilling a field. Prince Macintosh wasn’t like most royalty and his work ethic was greatly admired. That, more than anything else, had not only made him popular, it had reinvigorated the Equestrian monarchy. Skylar lowered his glasses and mused silently. You could take the prince out of the field, but you couldn’t take the field out of the prince. He wondered if he would ever see Princess Luna pulling a plow by his side.
The stallion went back inside the tower and trotted over to a small wooden box mounted on the wall. Lifting the receiver he turned the dial to zero and gave the crank a quick spin. There was a momentary pause then a voice came across the line.
“Canterlot control.”
“This is Mount Lookout station,” he replied. “Morning report... Barometer 29.95, temperature 69, wind from the southwest at 8 gusting to 12. Status normal.”
“Right... Copy all. Control out.”
Skylar pushed the speaker tube back into place and hung up the receiver. “Status normal,” he thought. This was already shaping up to be a long, quiet and unremarkable day.
He made another check of the instruments and two complete 360 degree scans of the horizon. He thought he saw some kind of activity in and around the Griffon Kingdom, but it was too far away for even his powerful binoculars to make out. He wondered what might have them out and about at this hour. Normally they didn’t become active until later in the day when thermals made flying easier. They didn’t have the advantage of magic to aid their flight, so their wings tended to be larger and their bones thinner. He wondered... if a griffon didn’t use magic to fly, could a pony fly without it as well.
His reverie was interrupted by the jangling of his call box. He dialed the switch to receive. “Mount Lookout.”
“Morning... This is Strongback over at Buffalo Peak.”
“Morning Strong... Skylar here. How are things around Appaloosa today?”
“Too quiet for ma liking,” the earth pony replied.
“Is that too quiet as in something’s up or too quiet for me to stay sane?”
“The second. About the only thing Ah can see is some kind o’ shuttle cock game off towards the griffon lands. They must be having their quarter-finals.”
“Is that what they’re doing? I couldn’t quite make it out myself from here, even with my binoculars.”
Strongback laughed. “Ya could see that? Dang, y’all must have the eyes o’ an eagle.”
“Or a pegasus,” Skylar replied with a chuckle.
“Right...” the earth pony replied. Over the receiver the stallion thought he could hear a whirring noise. “Uh oh! The boss is on her way up... gotta go!” The line abruptly went dead and he hung up. So much for passing the time.
The watch dragged on throughout the morning. Skylar kept himself busy cleaning the outside of the windows from the catwalk, sweeping, polishing and dusting between routine observations and instrument checks. He had just fixed himself a light lunch and made a fresh pot of coffee when, without warning there was a terrific explosion and the windows rattled. He grabbed his binoculars and raced out onto the catwalk for a better view, instinctively hooking up his safety line as he did.
Once outside he looked around and spotted a multi-colored ring as it expanded in the sky above the watchtower. From it an equally colorful trail was descending towards the mountain top. It was followed by several other trails, shorter in length and moving at only about two-thirds the speed of the first one. The first trail belonged to a cyan pegasus filly. She looped back towards the others and split their formation, but instead of scattering the other pegasi ballooned outward into a sphere and simultaneously reversed field in a perfectly coordinated maneuver. The next few minutes devolved into what looked like a cross between an aerial ballet and a game of tag.
Skylar watched in rapt fascination, understanding each and every maneuver, every flutter of a pin-feather required to spin or roll through the clear blue of the cloudless sky. His heart soared as he watched, pounding with a thrill he had not felt in many a year. For the briefest of moments he was up there with them, tumbling, soaring and chasing them madly about. He could almost feel the wind as it whipped through his mane and tail. He could even imagine he could feel his wings once more; every feather, every muscle as he knifed through the air. Then all too soon it was over.
A red and yellow pegasus joined the others and brought the game to an end. They formed up and headed northeast, away from the watchtower. Skylar watched them until they had vanished, even from the sight of his binoculars. His heart dropped, crashing violently against his rib cage. He had been close... so close to them... to the dream he’d once had, but now it was gone... again. Broken, like an eagle against the rocks below.
He sobbed. Years of stoicism and acceptance of his loss washed away in an instant. He didn’t understand why... Why now. Why after all this time was the ache, the loss so intense, so unbearable. He broke down completely then, his body sagging weakly against the railing that separated him from eternity. That separated him from... from the sky.
The world about him suddenly became a like a dream. It lost all its distinctiveness, all its clarity, all its meaning. He felt as if he were drifting on the wind. He felt his left forehoof as it reach up, without any conscious thought from him, and unhooked the safety line. Tears continued streaming down his face, fogging the world beyond. He looked down, more than four thousand feet below him and dimly saw the rocks below. His center of gravity shifted slightly and he began to lean forward, farther and farther.
A face swam dimly into view. Gentle, beautiful, understanding, accepting. A face whose eyes drew you in without reproof or fear... only love... his Songbird.
Skylar hurled himself violently away from the railing. His back slammed into the stonework of the tower and he slid down into a sitting position on the catwalk. His heart pounded in his chest and his breath came in desperate, short gasps. The fog within his mind faded and he sat there for several very long minutes, shocked by how quickly and how close he had just come to giving up everything.
A shaking hoof slowly reached up and reconnected the safety line. Wobbling a bit at first, he stood and re-entered the watchtower.
Author's Note
I don't know how many of you out there recognize the inspiration for this story. Please let me know if I should continue the story or leave it as is. Your input and votes are important. What do you like about it and how can I make it better.
