A Rumble in the Distance

Chapter 1: The Surface of the Storm

It was now under control.

Rumble jolted awake to a monstrous peal of thunder and a bright flash. He found himself back on his rooftop, with the chilly night air biting at his fur, but no rain on him. More thunder followed, and he scooped up his notebook again and looked around for the source. It was to the southwest this night, past Sweet Apple Acres. He could hear the family dog barking like mad, and could barely make out a light in one of their windows.

He couldn’t focus on that, though, as bolts danced among themselves in the clouds. He stared at them, making out only nimbostratus clouds, not a cumulonimbus among them. They were all white, and yet there was a heavy bank of them, and lightning discharged from them sporadically.

“Cumulus clouds producing lightning, mostly intracloud.” He looked back at the spectacle. “Some stray bolts cloud-to-ground.” He set his pencil down. “Just like every other night.”

The lightning eventually began dying down, and Rumble could make out something peculiar within these clouds. He began writing again. “There are what appear to be holes around the clouds. Possible causes unknown.” The cloud bank looked porous, like a giant sponge, and he could see rain falling and something else.

“Is that—“ He took a closer look. “Steam?” It was hard to tell, but he thought that he saw tendrils of steam wafting from the top of the clouds. “How?”

A gust of warm air blew from the direction of the storm, and he grabbed his quilt before it blew away. “Maybe I should take a closer look—“

Suddenly, he heard a window being flung open, followed by a frantic voice. “Rumble?” it called out.

He knew that it was Thunderlane, and called back. “I’m up here, big bro.”

Looking at the other end of the roof, he saw his brother’s head poke into view. He still had the bags under his eyes, but his eyes were wide awake. “What’re you doing up here?”

With a stammer, he pointed to the storm. “Look! It’s happening again.”

He heard the groan behind him and cringed. He didn’t look back as his older brother flew up and landed next to him. “Yes, Rumble, it’s happening again, the same as every night this week and the week before. Nothing’s changed!”

“But the storm’s moved!” Rumble insisted. “Last night it was southeast, and now it’s southwest. And look at it!” He pointed until Thunderlane tiredly turned his head. “It’s got steam coming out of it.”

“I don’t care.”

Rumble gawked. “But—“

“Rumble, why are you out here in the first place? It’s too cold, you know.”

He stammered, but eventually grabbed his notepad and showed it to him. “I was just taking notes on the storm, in case anypony needed it.”

A long groan followed. More lightning and thunder ensued, but they were now the frequent kind one would expect to see and hear from a normal storm. Thunderlane rubbed his eyes, which were obviously sore and in need of rest. Rumble, meanwhile, hung his head in shame, knowing he did something wrong, even if he didn’t know what. Once he finished his exhalation, Thunderlane spoke. “Look, buddy, we’ve been over this.” He lowered himself to Rumble’s level, and wrapped his foreleg around him. “I know you’re trying to help, but other ponies have it covered. I’m sure some big wigs in Cloudsdale are busy working out what’s in the storm right now, and Princess Twilight, Rainbow Dash and Spitfire will probably have a look at it once they wake up, okay?” He patted the notepad. “I know you’re smart and want to help, but let the adults handle it, okay?”

Rumble sighed. “Okay, big brother.” He felt his mane being rustled.

“Come back inside,” Thunderlane said with authority. “You’ve still got a few more hours of sleep before school starts. Have you been up all night?”

He blushed. “No, I fell asleep some time in.”

Another sigh. “It’s alright. At least you won’t be completely tired once you go to school.”

With that, Thunderlane took the umbrella that had been set up in case the storm rained over them, kicked off the roof and flew towards Rumble’s window. Rumble gathered up his quilt and notepad, and fluttered after him. They both entered the house, and Thunderlane tossed the umbrella perfectly into the closet. The quilt found itself folded up at the foot of the bed, and the notepad was flung onto the nightstand.

Before Rumble could climb into his bed, he felt himself being picked up and placed onto his brother’s back. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you actually get some sleep.” Thunderlane looked back and grinned. “You’re sleeping with your big bro tonight.”

Rumble wouldn’t complain about that, so he wrapped his legs around his brother’s neck and rode him into his room. The covers were on the ground, and Rumble could tell that they had been flung off. He didn’t say anything about it as Thunderlane picked them up and flung them back onto the bed.

Thunderlane waited for him to get off and crawl to one of the pillows before taking a corner of the cover and rolled himself backwards right next to him. In one not-so-fluid motion, they were both covered, though not quite perfectly. Rumble had to take the other corner off of his face and Thunderlane had to scoot his half over his chest.

Once they were both snuggled in, a few rolls of thunder went over their house. Thunderlane flung his foreleg over Rumble and brought him close. Rumble in turn snuggled up next to him, his forelegs folded against his brother’s neck. The excitement of the night had left him, and he began drifting back to sleep.

“Good night, li’l bro.”
Good night, master.
“Good night, big bro.”
We set out in the morning.
One more peal of thunder sounded off before they fell asleep.

The alarm clock sounded off 6:00, and Rumble could feel Thunderlane lift his foreleg off of him, and heard him swat for the snooze button. Almost predictably, the alarm clock fell to the floor, continuing its ringing. “Nummle!” He heard his brother mumble with frustration. He wasted no time, and soon the alarm clock was off and back on the nightstand.

“Mmm.” A sluggish foreleg plopped onto Rumble’s skull and patted him on the head. “Thanks, buddy.” He groaned in relief and turned back over.

Rumble, meanwhile, was out of bed and not feeling tired anymore. He usually woke up at seven, once Thunderlane got back from his morning flying. Since it didn’t look like Thunderlane would wake up, he decided to see if the storm was still there. The western sky was becoming lighter by the minute, so he didn’t expect much. Still, curiosity got the better of him.

But once he opened Thunderlane’s window, he heard his voice behind him. “Rumble, what’re you doing?”

Rumble stuttered. “Nothing. I just wanted to see, you know, if it was still there.”

Thunderlane gave him a drowsy stare before a yawn forced his eyes closed, and then he fumbled out of bed. “Hang on a bit, and we’ll check together.” He rubbed his eyes. “You and that storm, buddy, I can’t see why you’re so interested in it.”

Rumble couldn’t quite see it either, but he shrugged it off and waited for Thunderlane to stretch before flying out. The stallion followed suit, and they both flew over their roof. There were nothing but wisps of clouds now. The storm clouds that had been there before were all vanished.

“I don’t get it,” Rumble said, but before he could say anything more, Thunderlane cut him off.

“Remember what we talked about last night,” he said. “Let the grown-ups handle it.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes some more.

“Are you okay, big bro?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” was the groan of an answer before Thunderlane began stretching. “I gotta work on my routine.” He turned to the north, towards to fields and small mountains. “I’ll see you later, okay buddy? Try to get some more sleep.”

“Okay,” Rumble said quietly. He watched as Thunderlane yawned and began flying towards a small spring near the mountains, where he would take a quick cold plunge before beginning his training. “I’ll just go do that.”

With a sigh, he flew into his room and lay in his bed. Sleep wouldn’t come to him, and so he just lay there until Thunderlane returned. “Maybe I should stop thinking about it. What can I do about it, anyway? I’m not strong like Thunderlane and Rainbow Dash.” He bat idly at his mattress. A few inches away, his notepad sat with the paper scrunched up, from the force of his tossing it. “Still, why would a cloud have holes like that? Like somepony had drilled through them?”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about the clouds. So he picked up one of his nephology books and began flipping through it. He knew it inside and out, but perhaps something within it could tell him what he was missing that could explain it. Perhaps there was something at the core of it that was causing it, like a magical force. After a few minutes, his searching became merely browsing through the different classifications and weather patterns he knew. “What’s the point,” he thought to himself. “I can’t do anything about it.”

An hour-and-a-half later of skimming through the book, he heard Thunderlane return through his bedroom window. He was stuck on a page of stratus clouds when he poked his head into the room.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Reading your cloud book?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” Thunderlane lingered in the doorway for a bit. “I’m gonna get in the shower. Do me a solid and fix breakfast?”

Rumble looked up from him book to Thunderlane, who was throwing him one of his trademark grins. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, big bro.” He hopped on the bed a few times to launch himself out the room and down the stairs.

“Thanks, buddy!” Thunderlane called out before walking down the hall.

Rumble flew down and made their usual meal: scrambled eggs and toast. Nothing too fancy, but Rumble had no idea how to get fancy with food, and it didn’t bother the brothers much, so no thought was given to it. As he watched the eggs bubble in the skillet, there was a knock at the front door. Before he could reach it, the lock turned, and the door opened.

“Thunderlane!”

Rumble immediately hid behind the kitchen wall. He stayed silent as Cloudchaser strode past and up the stairs.

“Thunderlane, are you still sleeping?” she shouted.

He could hear a door opening upstairs. “No, I’m in the shower!”

“Well, good! You’re not gonna be late again, are you?”

“No, no, I’m up now.”

“Sweet Celestia,” she muttered, “what am I gonna do with that stallion?” She huffed, and Rumble stopped watching.

Best leave the grown-ups be, he told himself. Suddenly, he heard a pop!, and went back to look over his eggs. A few seconds later, he heard a voice behind him,

“Oh, Rumble.” Cloudchaser sounded bashful. “I had no idea you were in here. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Oh, good.” She looked over the kiln where he was cooking. “Are you making breakfast?”

“Yes.”

She walked over and looked around the setup. “Just eggs?”

“And toast.”

“No hash browns or orange juice?”

“Nnnno.” He hesitated with his answer.

“Why not?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, so he kept silent.

“One day, I’m gonna make you guys an actual breakfast,” she said with a smile.

He regarded her oddly; he didn’t know why what he was making didn’t count as an actual breakfast. She went on about adding this and that, and changing her mind on a dime, and he went on making his food the same as he always had.

After a few minutes of rambling and listening to rambling, and after Rumble had laid out two plates, they both turned to see Thunderlane coming in. He was mostly dry, save for his mane which was sopping wet. Cloudchaser groaned at the sight. “Darnit, Thunderlane, can’t you do anything right?” Before Thunderlane could groan at the attention, Cloudchaser trotted past him and up the stairs. Awkwardly, Thunderlane turned to the table.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said. Without another word, he took his seat at the table, just as Cloudchaser returned with a towel. She went on chastising him as she dried his mane, all while he stayed silent and ate his food.

Rumble tuned her out and focused on his own food. Once that was done, Cloudchaser ushered Thunderlane upstairs to prepare for weather management, and Rumble went into his own room to prepare for school. Not much more out of the ordinary happened.

Once they were both done, Thunderlane locked up the house and flew off with Cloudchaser without saying goodbye to Rumble. He didn’t mind, though, shrugged it off as usual, and began walking to school. The sky was normal, as it always was during the day. There was nothing more for Rumble to do but sit down at the school benches and wait for class to begin.

At lunch, Rumble and Featherweight ate in silence while everypony else talked around them. This wasn’t a common practice, and Featherweight glanced up every now and again to see if Rumble would talk about the Wonderbolts or what his brother had done, or even about the weeks-long thunderstorm. Rumble just ate, not once looking up from his sandwich.

He would’ve continued like that until recess was over, if Featherweight hadn’t waved his foreleg in front of his face. He looked up to see the other colt staring at him, both of his brows creased with concern. “What?”

He waved his foreleg for him to continue.

“What?” Rumble asked more insistently. “Nothing’s wrong.” He continued eating. When Featherweight continued to stare at him, he quietly added, “really, it’s nothing.”

Then Featherweight tapped the table. Rumble looked up wordlessly, and watched as Featherweight reached into his camera—which he kept by his side—and pulled out a few photograph. With a light toss, they landed in a perfect row in front of him. The first one got his attention immediately.

“Iphat—“ He swallowed. “Is that what I think it is?”

A nod.

At first, Rumble felt like telling him that it didn’t matter to him anymore, that the grownups would take care of it. But curiosity got a grip on him, and he picked one of the photos up. It was the storm viewed from up-close, as if the camera had been placed under it. He gawked.

“Did you—“

Featherweight nodded.

“Wow.” Rumble stared at the picture. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

He shrugged. There was something courageous about the runty colt that Rumble admired, and his modesty always baffled him.

“Cool,” Rumble whispered. The picture showed the mass of cloud, dark and massive, with neither bolts of lightning nor any holes in it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, so he set it down and picked up the other two.

The first one had a few small sparks surrounding a dark spot within the cloud itself. It made him think of his core theory, but it was far away from the center of the mass, so he couldn’t say for sure. This one also had no holes, but the next one did. The dark spot was invisible behind the wall of steam that formed around it. The photo also looked tilted and covered in dirt; he went to rub it off, but Featherweight stopped him. His awkward expression told Rumble what had happened: he had gotten scared of the lightning and dropped the camera, and the picture was taken in haste.

After observing them all, he gave them back to Featherweight, who carefully slid them in their case. “That’s really cool,” Rumble said after some thought. “Have you thought about taking these to Spitfire?”

He shrugged.

“This might be helpful in understanding what’s causing the storm!” Rumble pointed at him. “We could stop it from coming here!”

“What are you dweebs blabbering on about?”

Rumble froze. Oh great. He turned just to see a pegasus colt land right behind them “Hey Shockwave.”

Everypony stopped what they were doing to look at him. He was a tall colt, twice the height of Rumble, with a yellow coat, dark-blue mane-and-tail, and three circles, one inside the other, for a cutie mark. His eyes were a lighter blue, and his grin was as cocky as they came. He stood right behind Rumble, staring down at him.

“What’s happening, Tumble?” Shockwave asked in his smooth Cloudsdale accent. “What were you two talking about?”

“Heh-heh,” Rumble chuckled drily. Featherweight, meanwhile, rested his foreleg on the table, patiently waiting for the other colt to leave. “We were just talking about the storm. You know, the one that’s been coming around Ponyville every night?” As he finished, he felt the spittle of a raspberry on his nape.

“Yeah, we all know about it. Are you scared of a widdle storm, Tumble?” Shockwave forced a seat next to Rumble. “It hasn’t done anything to you, has it?”

“No,” Rumble replied with a tinge of anger. “But it might, you know? We need to be prepared, in case it’s dangerous.”

Shockwave laughed. “Are you serious? What can you do about it? You’re a runt!”

Anger flared from his nostrils, but a hoof held him back. Featherweight pulled him back onto his seat. “What do you want?” he asked loudly.

“Oh, not much,” Shockwave continued nonplussed. “I just wanted to let you know that there’s a young-flyers race being held in Cloudsdale in a week. Only the best flyers in Cloudsdale are going to participate, and I’m gonna be number one.” He posed proudly in Rumble’s face.

“That’s pretty cool,” Rumble said, feigning disinterest but perking up regardless. “So why are you telling us? Shouldn’t you be training for it?”

“I will, don’t worry.” He rested his foreleg on the top of Rumble’s head. “I just wanted to tell you guys in case you wanted to come up and see a real flyer in action.” He laughed. “Of course, most of you can’t even get up there in the first place, and would need a hot air balloon to get up there, so why should I even bother?” He glared at Rumble, snout-to-snout. “I guess I just came to say I’m gonna be number one.”

Before Rumble could come back with a retort or even a shout, Shockwave kicked off the ground and began flying off to the sky. Nopony could deny that he was a naturally skilled flyer. “See you when I’m the champ!” he laughed to himself and flew away.

Rumble just stood there, his gaze fixed on where Shockwave disappeared from view. He did this until Featherweight shoved him once more.

"What!?"

Featherweight flinched and back away. Rumble, realizing what he had done, folded his ears back. "I'm sorry, Featherweight. It's just, I'm tired of him picking on us, you know?" He closed his eyes and hung his head. "I'm really sorry."

He felt a hoof on his shoulder; when he looked back up, Featherweight was giving him one of those smiles that said "it's okay. I know you didn't really mean it." Then Featherweight went inside the schoolhouse. While Rumble contemplated his actions, Featherweight returned with a newspaper article. It had a picture in it, and Rumble recognized the scene: it was after the Ponyville pegasi had delivered rainwater to Cloudsdale via hurricane, and the participants were being commended by Spitfire herself. The pegasi were all posing for a commemorative photo.

"What about it?" Rumble asked.

Featherweight pointed to the far-right of the picture, at Rumble himself, standing to the far right, with Thunderlane directly to his right.

"So?"

He pointed at where Shockwave left, and then back at Rumble in the picture. When Rumble still didn't get it, he pointed straight at him.

"What? You think I should compete?" Featherweight nodded. "But I'm not really fast!"

Featherweight facehoofed, and pointed to the article again.

"Well, yeah, I helped out with the hurricane, but that doesn't make me fast!" Rumble began trotting away. "Just-just forget it, okay? Let's go play."

Featherweight shook his head, put the article away in the folder, and trotted after him.
You know, Rumble, I very much worry about you. You're always putting yourself down, always saying you're not good enough. That's not true, you know? I've seen you fly, you're amazing! Even if you're not the fastest colt in Equestria, you could still give Shockwave cause to shut his muzzle. If anything, it would at least make him stop picking on us. I mean, I can take it, but I know it gets to you. Stand up for yourself every once in a while.

He was alone. It would be a while more before Thunderlane returned, so he had decided to get dinner started and do his homework before going to bed early. Once the timer in the kitchen went off, he set his homework down and trotted, seeing his soup bubbling nicely. He put away the timer and turned the stove off. He grabbed the ladle, poured himself a bowl, and walked over to the table.

It had been two hours since he and Featherweight split for the day; Rumble couldn't stop thinking about what Shockwave had said, and decided to head home before the sun set. Now it was dark, and Rumble could only hope to get a good night's sleep and stop thinking about either the cloud or Shockwave. That would at least put an end to that day. He had heard nothing more about the storm from any of the ponies he and Featherweight had passed, leaving him still in the dark.

As he sat down with a bowl of the soup, a thought rung itself in his mind:

Well, yeah, I helped out with the hurricane, but that doesn't make me fast!

Rumble stopped before the first bite, and dwelled on that thought. I'm not really fast... am I On the day of the hurricane, Rumble had flown without Thunderlane's help, since he caught the feather flu. He hadn't been able to keep up with a lot of the other pegasi that had surpassed ten-point-zero wingpower, but he had been much faster than Fluttershy. He hadn't been so slow as to bump into anypony; from what everypony had told him afterwards, he had contributed a fair amount. It made him wonder if, perhaps, he really was fast enough to fly in a competition like that.

And then he shook those thoughts out of his mind and shoved another spoonful of soup in his mouth. I'm not fast enough, he told himself. Not yet. I still need to keep practicing.

There was a knock at the door.

Rumble jolted out of his thoughts and the chair, and dashed towards the door. Could it be Thunderlane home early? Nearly ramming into the wall due to his momentum, he threw the door open.

It wasn't Thunderlane. Who it was made him cringe on reflex.

"Hey, kid," she said. "Is your brother home?"

"Uh, no, ma'am, he isn't."

She furrowed her brow. "Don't call me ma'am, kid." She looked around the inside of the house. "Where is he?"

"He's at night watch for the Wonderbolts."

She nodded. "Can I come in?"

Rumble hesitated, but she was inside before he could answer. Wordlessly, he shut the door. It was Lightning Dust, the ex-Wonderbolts recruit that had endangered his brother. She had appeared to try and get along with him, though he hadn't been willing so far.

"Something smells pretty good," she commented, looking into the kitchen. "Did you make that?" Before he could answer, she turned to him. "Can I get a bowl?"

Rumble, finally getting a chance to answer, nodded. "Uh, yeah, sure, go ahead."

"Sweet!" She trotted over to the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a bowl, and then dumped a hearty serving for herself. "This smells, great, kid. You consider getting a job as a chef?"

Amidst the confusion the mare was causing him, he grinned. "No, ma'—no, I haven't." He took his place at the table, opposite her. He watched as she began scarfing down food.

"I tell you, kid, it is so good getting real food in me again!" She wolfed another bite down. "You don't know how long it's been. We've been living off of a meager supply for ages now, and this will definitely help with training."

He ventured a conversation. "So you're still training to be a Wonderbolt!"

She chuckled, sending drops of soup across the table. "No, not anymore. I'm training to do my own thing, you know?"

"What do you want?" He asked, not wanting to hear what her own thing was.

She slurped the rest of the bowl down and slammed it on the table. "Whoo! That was good. I'm here to talk to your brother."

"About what?"

She patted her stomach. "Hey, are you going to compete in the Flying Foals Competition?"

Rumble blinked. "Um, no. It's just Cloudsdale pegasi that're flying."

She shrugged. "Well, Ponyville pegasi are allowed to fly as well; and knowing your brother's a Wonderbolt, I thought you'd be up for it."

It was his turn to shrug. "Well..."

"Do you not like flying?"

He straightened up. "Yeah, I do!"

"Then why not fly in the competition?" she asked with annoyance in her voice. "You're a good flyer, right?"

He shook his head. "I'm decent."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She stood up and walked to the living-room couch. "You mind if I rest here until Thunderlane gets back? It's really important that I talk to him."

Rumble hesitantly nodded. "I guess. It'll still be a while. I'll be getting ready for bed, so, uh, if you need me, I'll be in the shower."

"Sure thing."

He tried to take a long time, just so she'd get bored and leave. No such luck, though, as she was lying on their couch. He sighed, and was about to go to his room and read his cloud book when he was stopped by a question.

"Why don't you want to fly in the competition?"

Rumble looked down. "Huh?"

"You heard me," she said. "Why won't you fly?"

He fumbled with his words. "Um, well... I don't know," he finally answered quietly.

She stretched her legs out. "You want some advice?" When Rumble looked at her, she became stern. "Stop being such a wuss."

Rumble almost gasped, but then the door opened. Thunderlane slumped inside.

""Thunderlane!" Rumble jumped down to greet his big brother, but Thunderlane shook his head.

"Not now, Rumble," he grumbled just audibly.

"But-I..." Thunderlane trudged upstairs, not even bothering to look at the soup on the kitchen table. "O-okay."

"Hey, Thunderlane." Rumble flinched; at that moment, he had forgotten about Lightning Dust.

Thunderlane turned, a look of confusion on his face. "Lightning Dust? What're you doing here?"

She trotted up to him. "I wanted to talk to you. Is everything okay?"

Thunderlane was about to answer, but then looked back at Rumble. After a moment, he said, "You being nice to her?"

Before Rumble could answer, Lightning butted in. "He's been a sweetheart. He fed me dinner, he's such a good cook!"

"Good." Thunderlane flopped on the couch next to her, stretching his legs and wings out. "Man, today's workout as brutal."

Lightning began stroking his mane. "Hey, at least you'll be stronger when it's over." She leaned into him. "Ponies love strong flyers, you know."

Rumble rolled his eyes and walked upstairs as he heard his brother emit a weak chuckle and a "yeah." He knew where this sort of thing usually led between the two of them, and he didn't want to be around when that began happening.

Great, he moaned as he flopped onto his bed and reached for his nephology book. Three things I've had to deal with today. Could it get any worse?

After some time, though, the words blurred together on the page, and the pictures blended into mush. But what's the point of worrying about it at all? I mean, I really can't do anything about the storm, could I? And Shockwave's right, I can't really participate, so why should I worry about it? And... well, I guess if that mare makes Thunderlane happy, then I should be happy, right?

He thought about Featherweight. At least Featherweight's cool, and he got to take pictures of the storm. I bet his parents wouldn't be too happy about that if they knew about it, but—

Then he stopped rambling. That fact made him think about himself, and soon he began getting excited. As he shimmied into bed, he began planning in his mind. "Maybe I just need to do something about it. Featherweight's got his pictures to show to Spitfire and Twilight. Who knows what I can find out?" He closed his eyes with a smile and a mental checklist of what he'd need when he went out that night.

Author's Note

After years of putting this off, it's time that I set this story offwards. I'll be doing my very best to learn how to make the story better, and to deliver a great adventure. If you think I could be doing something better, please let me know; I'll be happy to hear it, and will consider it and do my best to implement it.