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                      The Stormmaster                      
                       -by BlndDog-                        
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               Sundown, you better take care               
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Sundown, you better take care
Try as she might, the pale blue pegasus could not stay still. Her mane was tightly braided, ready to pop off her head at any moment. She could feel every one of the seamstress’ pins against her skin, and the cold silk was like a constant trickle on her back.
“Almost done, ma’am,” the old mare said in her smooth, kindly voice. “You’ll look gorgeous, I promise.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Jenny.”
A hot breeze swept across her back, so gentle that most ponies wouldn’t have noticed it.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Jenny, it’s okay. It’s nothing personal.”
“I’m sorry,” the other pegasus sighed, ruffling her wings noisily. A few pins dropped onto the fluffy cloud floor. “I’m just so used to… well…”
“You can say it, Jenny.”
“I’m used to normal clients,” she finished.
“And that’s what I expected,” the silk-draped pegasus said with a gentle smile. “I trust your judgement, Jenny. At the very least it’s better than mine.”
The seamstress was reluctant to laugh until she laughed, but the mood lightened noticeably when their last chuckles died down.
“It’s great,” Spinning Jenny said, now fitting a ribbon to her waist. “This is white silk from beyond the Foal Mountains: light as air and durable too. I knew I had to use it when I heard you were coming. And trust me, this blue linen looks great on you. It really brings out your coat, and it’s not too bright in sunlight either. It’s a really good contrast for the dress. Do you have any preferences for hemlines?”
“I leave it all under your wings,” the young mare replied truthfully.
“Perfect. I was thinking swastikas in every colour, and the same for your waistband. Trust me, swastikas are the next big thing.”
“It sounds a bit… boisterous,” she interjected. The seamstress was circling her with a stick of chalk in her mouth. The ends of her long tape measure whistled and clicked as they swung out of synch like pendulums of an untuned clock. “I’ve never heard of a dress with a rainbow hem before.”
“Well… maybe,” Jenny admitted, stepping back with her bottom lip crinkling between her teeth. “Come to think of it, that might be overdoing it a little. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out in time. The event isn’t for another month, right?”
“Not until the Harvest Moon Celebration,” confirmed the other mare.
“Wonderful.” The seamstress worked in silence for a while more before removing the pins and lifting the roughly dress-shaped shroud.
Snowdrop stretched her muscular wings and shook out her shoulders before turning away from the window to face the other mare. She did her very best to “focus” on Jenny’s face, but her eyes shivered in their sockets like caged animals.
“Thank you for taking this job, Jenny,” she said with a deep bow. “I know you’re quite busy, but Stitching Awl says she doesn’t know how to make good dresses. I really like her work, but she insisted I come to you.”
“Well no offense to her, but Stitch was right.” The cloud puffed softly under Jenny’s hooves as she paced the studio. “Her cloaks and work clothes are comfortable, but sometimes I wonder if she weren’t colorblind. I think that’s why most of her fabric is undyed.”
“I never noticed,” Snowdrop said.
“Smell your jacket if you don’t believe me,” she said haughtily, adjusting her client’s thick trailing braid before draping the garment across the younger mare’s shoulders. “It looks wonderful on you, don’t get me wrong, but have you ever seen a purple pony wearing something that colour? Well, I guess you haven’t. I’m sorry dear…”
“It’s fine, Jenny,” Snowdrop said. “If that’s everything, I really must get going.”
“Be careful on your way home,” Jenny said, holding open the circular cloud door. “It’s getting dark, and…”
“I know my way,” she said. “Take care.”
The air had changed since she was last outside. Tiny ice crystals tickled her nostrils, foretelling a chilly night in Cloudsdale. In the temperamental days between seasons anything could happen. Storm clouds offloaded in transit, hailstones formed out of morning mist, and just last week there was snow in Baltimare. In the city of clouds sidewalks could disappear over the course of the day, and losing furniture through the floor was not unheard of. Parents padded their children’s rooms with many layers of dense storm clouds, lest they wake up in the morning to find a five kilometre drop on the spot where they’d tucked in a filly or colt the previous night.
Snowdrop felt the beating of every pair of wings in the streets, recognizing a few of them. Alpine Breeze passed on the other side of the street. The powerful wake of her massive wings was interrupted by the uncertain fluttering of her daughter Firefly, who was panting from the long flight. Sunny Sky made unstable eddies and gusts as she came to an ungraceful halt, narrowly avoiding a large delivery wagon full pianos that creaked and hummed as it swerved to avoid the collision.
“Are you okay, Sunny?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry, Thunder…”
Cloud walls cracked and hissed as water droplets formed and evaporated, unlike the silent rocks used in the cities of earth ponies and unicorns. The aura of wet air surrounding every cloud warned her of unexpected structures, and she could identify buildings just by their smell.
The young mare followed her nose to a two-storey building surrounded by a low cloud wall sitting atop ten metres of dense cumulonimbus. The Sunrise Daycare Centre reeked of ozone and carrot soup, and of course there was also the noise. Children were playing in the yard; a dozen of them, each one with a unique voice and flight pattern.
“Careful!” Cirrus gasped, barely catching Nebulous Sky before the four-year-old colt could jump off the side of a short slide.
“I can fly!” He yelled as the soft-spoken caregiver set him down gently on the courtyard.
“Snowdrop!” Cirrus greeted. “Come on in, Wintergreen’s inside.”
“I hope he’s staying out of trouble,” Snowdrop said.
“No more than usual,” reported the mare in the yard. “He’s got a lot of energy, and he knows just a little too much about lightning. Have you been taking him to work with you?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?” Snowdrop laughed. “It’s never too early to start. I was about that age when I first learned to work with clouds.”
“Looks like it runs in the family,” Cirus said good-naturedly, tapping her on the shoulder with a cold, smooth hoof as she passed through the circular gate. “He didn’t fry my tail today, so that’s nice. I’ve learned to check the floor for dark patches. If there’s just a little piece, Wintergreen can find a way to use it.”
“Mommy!”
Snowdrop reached out in the direction of the overused voice, catching the little colt in a smooth, well-practiced motion. His straight “red” mane was getting long, falling just short of his eyes. His coat, “ocean-blue” according to his grandmother, was well-groomed and already thickening for the winter ahead. He squirmed and giggled when she kissed him on the cheek, and gave her a crushing hug in return.
“How was your day, sweetie?” She asked with a smile. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah!” His neck clicked like a ticker tape from his enthusiastic nodding. “Mommy, I drew a picture for you!”
He ran into the playroom without another word, returning a moment later panting heavily. Snowdrop felt the wrinkled sheet pressed against her foreleg, and took it hesitantly. Cirus had water paint in her daycare, and Snowdrop sometimes wondered if it was for her benefit. She traced the contours of the warped paper, smiling when she found the monstrously-distorted representation of her face that often appeared in these masterpieces, next to a stallion with ears as big as his face. And of course there was the artist himself standing between the two, standing twice as tall as the real thing.
“It’s wonderful,” she declared, hugging her son with one wing before lifting him onto her back.
“Have a great weekend Wintergreen,” Cirrus said in parting.
Snowdrop was relieved that none of the other parents were around. She got along fine with her former classmates; it was the immigrants that bothered her. Most were pegasi who had moved to Cloudsdale to feed the exponentially-growing demand for weather teams, oftentimes from grounded cities. She despised the mothers who stood in their close rings and whispered among themselves as if she were not there, unaware or unconcerned that she could hear their every word from the end of the street.
“Where’s your dress, mommy?” Wintergreen asked after a few quiet minutes.
“I’m getting it made, sweetie,” she replied, twisting her neck to face her son. It took practice, but she had long ago figured out how to fly with her head turned in any direction. “I’ll show it to you and daddy when it’s ready, and you can tell me how good I look.”
“I wanted to see it today,” the colt whined.
Snowdrop touched down on a familiar patch of cloud smelling faintly of night-blooming lilies. The single-storey cloud house was quite similar to the one she grew up in. From the front it looked tiny; a mere hut compared to the cloud mansions that had become so popular in recent years. But invisible from street level were two spacious storeys in the thick permanent cloud that formed the foundation. Truly permanent clouds were hard to come by, but a sufficiently skilled pegasus could build a close approximation.
The head of the Cloudsdale Weather Team was one such pegasus.
She did a quick lap to check the integrity of her home. Apart from some reshaping on the east side, no maintenance was needed.
The interior looked unfurnished at first, until Wintergreen reached into the floor and pulled up a short, fluffy cylinder. Snowdrop felt around the north wall, searching for a suitably dense patch. Water vapour flowed with the consistency of slightly-molten glass, becoming a floor-to-ceiling sheet as the mare pulled with patient strength. She heard three whooshes as the colt prepared chairs, and soft flapping as he crafted a rather lumpy sofa in an awkward location.
“Don’t do walls,” she said without turning. “Wait for daddy.”
Snowdrop gathered the stormy patches in the floor and raised them to shoulder height. Placing a pot on top, she flew up to the ceiling and brushed it once with the back of a hoof.
The seasoned iron sang in the downpour, its tone deepening as it was filled with fresh icy water.
Her hoof tingled as she caressed the thick clouds of her stove. Tiny bolts of lightning crackled against the filled pot, as effective as fire for the earth ponies or enchanted stones for unicorns.
Food was always frozen in Cloudsdale; a side effect of cloud houses that few would complain about at the end of a scorching summer day. Snowdrop pulled out of the floor sacks of bistort and tuberous spring beauty, salt and garlic, and cold-blackened spinach. The last ingredient she retrieved grudgingly. Unlike the wild plants from Rainbow Falls or the sea salt from the west coast, the spinach was grown by earth ponies. Earth ponies, who found all the wild things unpalatable; who were too good for black nightshades and wild raspberries, and too delicate for mountaintops. Their spinach was like their tomatoes and cucumbers and other such innovations: too sweet; too digestible; too tame.
A hole opened in the dining room wall, one that was quickly patched by a pair of sleek, muscular wings.
“Daddy!”
“Winter! Come here!”
Wintergreen’s tender wings fluttered happily; Sunshower’s snapped forwards with a soft pop, embracing the colt with greasy feathers.
“And how are you doing, oh great Stormmaster?”
“Not yet,” Snowdrop reminded him. “Not for a while.”
“And why not?” He teased, nuzzling her neck with his ears pressed against his head. “You are the Stormmaster. It’s already official. We’re just waiting for the after party.”
“It’s not official,” she said with a smile as she the rumbling soup with one wing. “I’m trying this out for the winter, and then the princesses will decide if this system works.”
“Sure,” he snorted. “Trying it out. You know, I’m not some earth pony with a crystal ball, but I’m pretty sure I can see the future. It’s going to be another great winter, there won’t be a food shortage, everypony will love you, and you will take on a new apprentice next spring… maybe three.”
Snowdrop smirked and rolled her glazed blue eyes.
“Winter,” she called, escaping her husband’s embrace momentarily. “Set the table please.”
The colt scampered into the kitchen, bounced off the far wall and landed in the middle of the floor. Bowls and spoons rattled noisily upon his back; had there been a stone floor instead of cloud they would have run out of dishes a long time ago.
Dinner conversation was a one-sided activity. Sunshower seemed to know everything about her situation, and told her stories with much embellishment. She could only assume that the stories he told of his own exploits in Canterlot were crafted in the same way. Wintergreen listened in rapt fascination, so much so that Snowdrop had to periodically tap him on the shoulder so he would not forget about his dinner entirely.
“I want to be a royal guard when I grow up,” he said in one of the pauses when Sunshower had a spoon in his mouth.
“And not a weather team leader?” Snowdrop said with a crooked smile.
“I’ll do that too!” Wintergreen corrected. “I’ll be the captain of the royal guards and head of the weather team! And I’ll have lots and lots of medals!”
“Not if you don’t eat,” she pointed out. “You have to be strong to be a royal guard.”
“I’m already strong!” The colt protested.
“You can be stronger,” said his mother. “Come on, finish your soup.”
She knew he was scowling as he slurped up the remnants of his lukewarm dinner. Perhaps she was the only one in the house that evening who noticed the last colours of day fade from the horizon, and she was certainly the only one who heard countless twinkling stars chiming the soothing song of the night.

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                         Restless                          
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Restless
Flecks of snow blew in through twenty open windows, but still the air in the hall was oppressively hot. It seemed that everypony in Cloudsdale had packed themselves into the building; their cacophonous heartbeats pounded on the eardrums of one unassuming blue mare standing at the back of the room.
Cotton Jenny had finished her dress just in time, and so far she had heard nothing but good things about it. The skirt was indeed white, with a hem of blue swastikas that matched her coat. Its backless design left her wings free, and the wide blue collar sat comfortably on her neck like a soft silk scarf. The swastikas on the collar took the form of silver vines covered in tiny five-petal flowers. The pattern grew denser towards her head, becoming an intricate lattice just beneath her chin.
Her shoes were modeled after Princess Luna’s silver slippers. Two weeks after the fact, the farrier now standing in the fifth row was still baffled that she did not ask for the gold ones that were so popular in Canterlot.
“Welcome, citizens of Cloudsdale!”
Princess Luna’s deafening voice silenced all others in the room. Snowdrop flattened her ears against her head as many others did the same. Most unfortunate were the ponies in the first dozen rows.
“In the last year you have endured many changes. Equestria is still in the process rebuilding, but do not think that there has been no progress. Indeed, the outflow of great weatherkeepers from this city should be proof enough of the kingdom’s growth! Yours is the only weather team training program in all of Equestria, and your faithful stewardship of Canterlot’s rain has given us an unprecedented harvest. We will all eat well this winter!
“And that brings us to the matter at hand. I am familiar with Cloudsdale’s long history of military excellence. This city has provided the finest royal guards for Canterlot, and I look forward to seeing your auxiliaries later today. But to have great soldiers is not enough. You have a city full of the best soldiers, but why is it that pegasi from Canterlot must be sent to repair your buildings and supplement your weather team? Why is it that a company of well-provisioned lancers was sent to city hall when a plumber was needed? You know the answer, of course, so I will not embarrass you further.
“You have enough ponies, Cloudsdale, so let us not talk about temporary workers or moving the reserves. What you need is leadership. Your mayor has done her best, but a mayor cannot give orders to soldiers that are not hers. You have a general, but it seems that you need more than that. Thus I am here today to bestow new authority upon one of this city’s greatest leaders.
“Come forward, Snowdrop daughter of Primrose, Captain of the Cloudsdale Weather Team!”
Snowdrop felt her mother’s wing pushing on her back. Wintergreen tugged on her left foreleg, and Sunshower managed to deliver a quick peck to her right cheek before she got out of range. All the ponies were stomping and cheering as she felt her way along. The floor had been remodeled for this occasion; small triangular nubs positioned at one-step intervals guided her through the hall, and a patch of crackling storm clouds warned her just before the stage. Her eyes did not wander as she paced through the packed hall; that part was easy for a blind pony.
Snowdrop lowered her head as she ascended the five steps onto the stage. She would not have done so had it been a private meeting; even now she could sense Princess Luna’s embarrassment. Two bat ponies were surreptitiously fanning the cloud floor with the very tips of their featherless wings, allowing Snowdrop to detect all the ponies nearby.
Princess Luna was a tall, slender figure with a unique frame. Air currents whistled around her horn and were lost completely in her fluid mane. Her legs seemed impossibly narrow from a distance, with a profile like an artist’s easel. She became a huge presence when she spoke or extended her wings, but in the meantime she was barely there at all. The first time she met the royal sisters Snowdrop thought they were both made of toothpicks.
There were four more bat ponies standing at the back of the stage. Their silver helmets rang in the light breeze, and their swords clicked and rattled at the slightest movement. She thought she could name them all, but she could not know for sure until she heard their voices and felt their faces.
Mayor Fairweather stood behind the princess. The daughter of a former general and one of Cloudsdale’s greatest architects, she had certainly lived up to great expectations. For ten years her positions had been uncontested, and rumor had it that her teenage son was looking to follow in her footsteps. Her wings were especially well-preened that day, making her entire torso shift into and out of existence in chaotic gusts of air. Snowdrop got dizzy trying to decipher the details of her attire.
Furthest from Snowdrop was Alpine Breeze. While not a daughter of Cloudsdale, her appointment as a general was ascertained after she cleared the entire west coast of pirates. The massive hat that was part of her freshly-starched dress uniform made her by far the most noticeable pony on stage.
Snowdrop bowed in earnest before the trio: one aristocrat, one hero and one ruler. What did a blind weather team captain have to offer?
“It will be the responsibility of the Stormmaster to maintain this great city. From this day forward she will work on behalf of the mayor to direct public works. Fairweather daughter of Firestorm, Mayor of Cloudsdale, do you object?”
“I do not,” the mayor said with practiced confidence. “Snowdrop, this is the city of your birth. You know its streets and its winds. Take care of it, so that we may all be prosperous.”
“I will,” Snowdrop said.
I will try.
She felt its warmth a second before the horn touched her between her eyes. A pulse of energy rippled through her body, making her tingle all over.
“The Stormmaster will have command of all soldiers within Cloudsdale, and they are to assist her in work of all types. They may not be mobilized for war, by the Stormmaster or any officer, except through royal decree from Canterlot. Alpine Breeze, Commander of the Cloudsdale Auxiliaries, do you object?”
“I do not,” Alpine Breeze replied. “Snowdrop, from this day on you will be a leader of many great soldiers. Do them no harm, and use them only for the benefit of this city your only home.”
“I will.”
I will do my best.
Another touch, and another surge of power. Snowdrop clamped her mouth shut with a sound like fracturing ice. Nopony else seemed to hear it.
“Snowdrop,” Luna said, flaring her wings. Suddenly she was everywhere; the other ponies were faint whispers next to the howling wind that danced across her feathers. “As Stormmaster of Cloudsdale you are the keeper of this city. Take good care, and continue to serve unselfishly. Your authority comes from the Two Sisters, and we can take it away if you prove to be unworthy of our trust.”
“I understand, Princess Luna.”
Once again the horn touched her face.
Snowdrop inhaled sharply. The image only lasted for a fraction of a second. Three figures stood before her, one of them markedly taller than the others. Mares, judging from the shape of their faces, though she did not figure this out until much later.
Her eyes burned as she stood up. The crowd cheered and stomped, and the cloud floor replied in deep rumbling and static shocks. She heard many familiar voices in the din. Cotton Jenny was in the seventh row, straining her old throat to be heard over the entire Cloudsdale weather team. Cirrus was having a hard time keeping track of fifteen foals; even Snowdrop had trouble distinguishing her soft voice in the crowd.
“Mommy!”
She got off the last step just in time. Wintergreen’s wings buzzed like a hummingbird, but still they did not bear his full weight as he clung to his mother’s neck.
Primrose draped one wing across her daughter’s back and tapped her shoulder.
“Snowdrop, what’s wrong?” She said.
“It’s nothing,” Snowdrop replied, blinking a few times to relieve her aching eyes. “I... hey Wintergreen, go with grandma, okay?”
The colt was all too eager to oblige. Primrose shifted her weight as he climbed onto her back and reared up with his elbows on top of her head.
“I’m a little nervous, that’s all,” Snowdrop said, and lowered her voice. “I’m just a weatherkeeper. I don’t think this will last very long, mom. I don’t know much about fixing roads and stuff like that. I mean, I know how to fix a road, but…”
“You said the same thing before you met the princesses,” Primrose interrupted, “and when Fairweather made you the weather team captain three years ago. Look how all that turned out. Don’t worry, you’ll be great. Now come on. You still like my pan bread, right?”
The one bedroom house had not changed at all since Snowdrop was born. The foal’s bed still had its spot in the corner, albeit covered with a tarp. The dinner table was still beside the counter, just big enough to accommodate four. Even the pictures on the wall (or at least the frames) hadn’t changed.
Wintergreen had inherited his mother’s taste in bread, while his father gnawed on his loaf like it was a stone.
“Mom, you have to give me the recipe,” Snowdrop said with a teasing grin.
The meal was interrupted by a knock on the door. Instead of answering, however, Primrose stopped dead in her tracks. The house grew eerily silent. Snowdrop could hear racing hearts all around her, and a familiar, powerful beat coming from the doorstep.
“Princess Luna!” Wintergreen hollered, his wings fluttering excitedly.
Snowdrop greeted the princess with a smile. She tried to bow, but was stopped by a silver-shod hoof under her chin.
“May I come in, Primrose?”
“Yes,” The mare replied snappily. “Yes… yes, by all means! Would you like some… I’m sorry, if I’d know you were coming…”
“That is quite alright, dear subject,” Princess Luna said. “’tis good to dine with peasants from time to time. Snowdrop has told me quite a lot about your barley pan bread, but I will not eat if there is not enough.”
“You can try some of mine!”
Sunshower snatched the half-eaten loaf that his son had been waving over his head. Wintergreen harrumphed and dropped his hooves heavily on the table.
“That is quite alright young Wintergreen,” Princess Luna said, following Snowdrop to the table. “I see that you like your bread very much, and you are hungrier than I.”
She placed a hoof on Snowdrop’s shoulder and nuzzled the top of her head.
“Congratulations Stormmaster,” she said. “I want you to know that you have my full support. I know you well, dear Snowdrop. I know that you will make this great city even better.”
“Thank you,” Snowdrop said, doing her very best to sound enthusiastic. “I will do my best.”
“Then there is nothing to worry about,” Princess Luna said. “I have a gift for you, but that is for another time and place.” Holding Snowdrop close by her side, the Princess addressed the others. “Do not be alarmed! I am here to celebrate with you! Let us eat together!”
Snowdrop lay on the sleeping mat with Wintergreen under her wing. Princess Luna had left after giving the colt a ride on her back around the living room. She had been drowsy for hours, but sleep eluded her.
One image filled her mind: that of three mares. It should not have shocked her so. Princess Luna was the tall one, Alpine Breeze had the big hat, and Mayor Fairweather…
She was wearing a dress.
How do I know that?
She touched her eyes, and then waved a hoof before her face. She felt the subtle, pulsating breeze on her nose; heard soft whooshes in the thin air. But even her own hoof did not appear as clearly in her mind as the three mares on the stage.

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                   Race Among the Ruins                    
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Race Among the Ruins
When she bid the weather team to bring “some reservists” at the end of last day’s work, Snowdrop had expected a dozen of them, two at most.
The warehouse was so full that she could not tell if her old team was among the crowd.
Snowdrop wore Princess Luna’s gift now. It was a bodysuit made of a silky material, thin yet strong. It carried some kind of enchantment, that was for sure; she could feel every pressure change, every puff of air, every movement in the room. She could almost make out the shape of the nearest pony’s mane.
“Who are you?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I am Private Plover Wing, ma’am!”
Snowdrop pulled her head back, her eyes widened in surprise. A muffled giggle went around the room.
“Plover wing,” she said patiently. “Please use your real voice. This is very unprofessional of you.”
“This is my real voice, ma’am,” he said, imitating an old mare. “I am very sensitive about it, and you are being very unprofessional… ahem, excuse me… you are being very unprofessional by making fun of it!”
He cleared his throat noisily once again. The others were rocking back and forth with puffed cheeks and bulging eyes.
“He’s right, Stormmaster!” Another young stallion called out. He was sitting down and plugging his nose with both front hooves. “Plover’s very sensitive about his voice!”
Meanwhile Plover had finally cleared something out of his throat. He raised his head.
Snowdrop moved just in time. The ball of phlegm whizzed by her face, landing harmlessly on the cloud floor.
“Hey, that’s enough!”
And just like that the room exploded. The whole weather team had showed up after all, but the battle lines were anything but clear. It seemed that everyone had decided to grapple the nearest pony and go from there. Soon they were all flying. A chain of four mares passed overhead, one of them with block of ice haphazardly conjured from a chunk of wall.
“Stop fighting!” Snowdrop screamed, taking flight herself.
Two pairs of hooves grabbed her from below, pulling her to the cloud floor. She ducked to one side, and heard a distinctive metal clink when a hoof struck the floor.
“No. HORSESHOES!”
Snowdrop pushed her wings through the cloud beneath her back. It moved to her will, and all five feet of it opened up like a great mouth. Her attackers screamed as they found themselves suddenly in freefall.
Snowdrop grabbed them around the neck and aimed for the ground. After three mighty strokes of her wings she was plummeting at a good speed. The screams turned from surprise to fear. Her attackers flapped their wings and struggled frantically, but Snowdrop held them tight. Several layers of the city zoomed by.
A small cloud came up to meet her. She waited until it was no more than three metres away before reversing her wings. Giving the two ponies one last push, she released them.
They hit the cloud with a bang.
“Like popping a giant paper bag,” Squall Line would later reflect.
Only an inch of cloud remained, sagging under the weight of two stunned ponies. Overhead all was silent. Snowdrop flew back towards the warehouse atop the city at a leisurely pace.
“Get them to a doctor,” she said to the first group of ponies she passed. “You can all go home.”
The warehouse was full of holes from ponies conjuring ice weapons from its walls and floor. It was more than half gone; with this much damage a building made of anything but cloud would have toppled over from its own weight.
Snowdrop spent two hours gathering clouds from outside the city. The weather team had tried to help her, but she sent all of them home. The roadbuilding project could wait one more day; it already had ten years under its belt.
She had at least two houses’ worth of clouds when she returned to the warehouse, taking a very low route to avoid gawkers. Somepony was waiting for her when she lifted the cloud pile up to the warehouse.
“Snowdrop!” Alpine Breeze said as she hurried over to help move the cloud. “Are you alright? I heard about what happened…”
“I’m fine, ma’am,” Snowdrop said without turning to face her.
“Rest assured, I have already taken Plover Wing and his friends off the active reserves,” Alpine Breeze continued, following Snowdrop with a sizable chunk of cloud. “They will be cleaning latrines for a long, long time. What they did was unacceptable, and completely against their training. I am so sorry that you ended up with those soldiers, and I promise it will never happen again.”
“That’s good to hear,” Snowdrop said flatly, patting down the first refilled hole.
“Snowdrop,” Alpine Breeze said in a less formal tone. “I don’t know you very well, but it looks like we will be working closer with each other than either of us realized. So please, can we talk for a little while?”
Snowdrop bit her lip to hold back her immediate response.
“Work while you talk,” she sighed as she picked out another chunk of cloud. “I would ask your soldiers to do this, but I don’t think I can trust them to build a usable outhouse.”
Alpine Breeze forced herself to laugh.
“They’re not as bad as you think, ma’am,” she said. Judging from her muffled voice she was patching the roof. “They’re a rough bunch, but they’re obedient.”
“Don’t call me ma’am,” Snowdrop said.
“Don’t call me ma’am,” Alpine Breeze countered. “Snowdrop, you command my soldiers when they’re not off fighting, and that’s a lot of the time. I’m not your commander, and I never was. And after what happened today, you don’t owe me any respect either. How about you just call me Breeze?”
“I can do that,” Snowdrop said. “I respect you still, Breeze, though I now wonder at the quality of your troops.”
“It’s the transition,” Breeze said. “You are not an army officer, and I had not spoken with them about this specifically. The princess has made her decree, but her word alone means little, especially in this city. Even if it had been Princess Celestia, you would still face some resistance.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Snowdrop said defensively. “Is one princess not the same as the other? They are equals, or has that changed in recent years?”
“They were never equal,” Breeze said. “Can you read by the light of the moon like the light of the sun? Can stars light your work?”
“I can, and yes,” Snowdrop said defiantly. “What are you getting at, Breeze?”
Breeze sighed. She dropped down through the last hole in the roof, landing lightly on the cloud and poking her face through the wall in front of Snowdrop. “I want to help you, Snowdrop.
“My soldiers do not yet respect your authority, and it will take some time for them to accept such a big change. I can scream at them all day and night, and still you will encounter resistance. So here is my plan: I will directly supervise my soldiers. Whatever needs to get done, you tell me. It’ll only be a temporary thing, until they get used to working for you. Then I’ll never interfere again.”
“Really,” Snowdrop said. She was starting to hear her own heartbeat. “How long will it take, do you think? A week? A month?
“These soldiers of yours need to be broken in, and I plan to do just that. I am their commander now, not you. You were not born here, and you do not care about this city. For years you had the entire Cloudsdale Reserve under your hoof, and what did you do with them? You sent them on patrols, you posted guards on the border, and you put them into the same training programs over and over again, just so the city could fall apart. The weather team has been doing almost all the road work for as long as I can remember. That was never our job, but we were the only ones left after pegasi started signing up to fight for Canterlot. No, I do not need your help unless it is to fix those holes in the roof.”
The stunned silence that followed stretched on long enough for Snowdrop to second guess herself.
“I… I never knew,” Alpine Breeze said in a trembling voice. “Snowdrop… do you really mean that? This is not like you at all! I have the utmost respect for this city, but as a part of Equestria’s military I have other things to worry about in addition to roads and schools. Surely you can understand that! Canterlot needs guards! The borders need protecting! Pegasi can travel far and fast, and most of the pegasi guard are here in Cloudsdale! I wish you could see it from my side.”
“I don’t see anything, remember?” Snowdrop retorted. “Thank you for your offer, but I have to refuse. Now will you please let me get back to work?”
Alpine Breeze said nothing else. Snowdrop went back to patching the wall, taking care to keep her eyes pointed exactly forward. It was a very effective cue that she should be left alone.
Alpine Breeze flew away on noisy wings. Snowdrop waited until she was sure that nopony remained on the street before sitting down and burying her face in her hooves.
It must have been very late when Snowdrop returned home cold and exhausted. The seams of her suit were digging grooves in her skin. She threw it aside as soon as she closed the door.
Sunshower sprang into the air when Snowdrop walked by. He had built a large couch in the living room, but only pretended to sleep.
“Mommy!” Wintergreen said, hopping onto the floor. His mane was a mess, and his face was raw. He jumped onto Snowdrop and held on tight.
“Winter, what’s wrong?” Snowdrop asked tiredly, shooting a disapproving glance at Sunshower.
“It’s nothing,” Sunshower answered, landing beside Snowdrop and taking the colt off her back. “What happened? You don’t look well.”
She took a deep breath and faked a smile.
“Winter,” she said. “It’s way past your bedtime. Go to your room. I’m really tired.”
She kissed the colt on the forehead. He lingered for a moment, until his father nudged him to go. Snowdrop waited until she heard the puff of air from the cloud mattress. Then she collapsed on the soft floor, gasping and trembling.
Sunshower piled blankets on her and helped her onto the couch. It was big enough to be a bed, and soft enough too. He held her tight and whispered into her ear.
“Those… animals!” Snowdrop sobbed. “Damn Equestria! Damn Celestia! All those pegasi… on the border! For what?! Let our cities fall to ruin!”
She knew that Wintergreen was listening. So be it. Let him hear it all.
“I’ll break them,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll break them if it’s the last thing I do. They do not respect me, but they’ll learn to fear me yet. They will fear me more than anything from the border.”
But for now it was only talk. Snowdrop slept like a rock, with Sunshower’s neck draped over her shoulder and his hooves holding her tight. In his bedroom Wintergreen cried alone, clutching tight to his bunched up blanket.
Author's Note
Not that happy with this chapter, but as long as it's not published I just can't move on. Definitely need to come back to this.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                      Moving Too Slow                      
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Moving Too Slow
For an entire month the Stormmaster dominated conversations in Cloudsdale. After “good morning,” and “good day to you,” and before “see you again,” there was “what happened to you?” and “Will that grow back?”
In those days the cat o’ nine tails was first seen in Cloudsdale, fitted with a tassel of vapour to keep the knotted twine from falling through cloud floors. Under constant grudging maintenance the weather team’s warehouse was in better shape than ever, though its walls were as much made of tears as they were cloud.
Complaints to Canterlot fell on deaf ears. Snowdrop and the weather team continued to take soldiers twenty at a time, and Alpine Breeze continued to send them.
It was not all for nothing. By the end of the first month Cloudsdale had a basic walkway system where there was once empty air. The city was drifting once again, though at a fraction of its original speed. A long-overdue expansion to the school was underway, with a weekly rotation of ten soldiers on site.
Finally a letter arrived from Canterlot, painstakingly stamped out in braille and sealed with Luna’s moon in blue wax. An invitation to tea with Princess Luna in Canterlot, for Snowdrop only; the type of invitation that could not be turned down.
And she wanted to go despite the dread in her heart. Snowdrop had not slept soundly since adopting her new ways. The whip felt like an anvil around her neck, and hardly gave her peace.
She arrived in Canterlot early in the morning. Cloudsdale had drifted far towards Filly Delphia, so that the weather team there had lots of help for the foreseeable future. The frigid coastal wind blew wet clouds inland, and even with a city full of pegasi it was a constant struggle to keep the storm at bay.
As Snowdrop descended towards Canterlot’s central square it became obvious that the weather teams’ work was not in vain. The snowbanks that once covered first floor windows entirely were now only shoulder-high. There were fewer broken branches blocking the streets, and no sign of a caved-in roof anywhere.
“Ma’am, could you spare a bit?”
Snowdrop turned with a start. A filly sat atop a snow pile, her ragged cap encrusted with ice. Her small wings were frostbitten, judging by the way she rubbed them against her side.
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” she sobbed.
Running feet clattered into the square. The filly screamed as she was tackled against a wall by an armored unicorn four times her size.
Snowdrop turned towards the palace. The filly screamed as the royal guard struck her again and again, until her breath was completely gone.
Street children were not uncommon in those days, except in Cloudsdale where pegasi took care of their own. The orphanage in Canterlot could do some good, if it could be finished at all.
Not my city, Snowdrop thought, though a part of her wished she had done something. They’ll take her to a jailhouse. It’s shelter at least.
The guards at the palace gate recognized her, and even saluted as she entered the garden. She nearly made it into the main hall before somepony slapped her hard across the face.
“Snowdrop!” Wing Collar said sternly, polishing his hoof with a handkerchief. “What did I tell you about coming here with that flea-infested dishrag?”
“There are no fleas in Cloudsdale,” Snowdrop said, rolling her eyes. “I have an invitation from Princess Luna. Now please stand aside.”
“Be that as it may, nopony comes into the castle wearing something that hideous!” Wing Collar turned up his nose and stood as tall as he could in the middle of the great doorway. The guards in the hall snickered, but he ignored them as he always did.
“Do you want me to break you in half?” Snowdrop chuckled. “Let me in. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Oh, not this time,” he said, his face burning like a lump of coal. “This castle has accommodated you peasants far too long! Why, yesterday I caught three of those filthy street kids in Princess Luna’s private dining room! Three of them!”
Snowdrop smiled.
Wing Collar had not noticed the sound of silver horseshoes, but the guards did. Now they stood straighter. Their halberds swished through the air, stopping precisely at the prescribed angle.
“What seems to be the problem, Wing Collar?”
The elderly butler yelped and closed his mouth. Snowdrop did her best not to smile.
“You are here to welcome our guests,” Princess Luna continued. “Let me decide who those guests are.”
“Yes Princess,” Wing collar said. Bowing deeply, he retreated into a side room.
“Why is he still here?” Snowdrop wondered.
“He amuses me,” Princess Luna said. “That, and my sister thinks there is use for him. Come with me, Snowdrop. Tell me, how was your flight?”
The fireplace was full of hot ember, with no new wood that might crackle and hiss. Even at the royal palace winter food consisted of pickled and dried vegetables and dry fodder. The cooks made scones and dense buns, which were best eaten slowly with plenty of jam and tea.
“I cannot wait for spring,” Princess Luna said as she nibbled on a scone. “Though I must commend you on your work in Cloudsdale. This has been a most manageable winter here in Canterlot.”
“I am glad that you think so,” Snowdrop said awkwardly.
“Is something wrong?” Luna asked. “What troubles you, Snowdrop?”
“You know what I have been doing in Cloudsdale, don’t you?”
Princess Luna was silent for a moment. She lowered her teacup slowly.
Then she laughed.
“Of course I know, Snowdrop,” she said. “Do you think your messengers are so careless these days?
“Do what you must, Snowdrop. Cloudsdale belongs to pegasi. But take care not to neglect your duties to Equestria. If you abandon this kingdom, my sister will take notice. But that is not why I have summoned you here today. Today, let us speak as friends. It has been an exhausting winter for both of us.”
“And what bothers you, Luna?” Snowdrop said.
“These street children, mostly,” she said with a heavy sigh. “A lot has improved since Discord’s defeat, yet there is still much to do. We have made progress, but I fear that we may lose something if we continue in the direction my sister has set out.
“We are building great things here in Canterlot. My sister has raised up many leaders for Equestria, but what about the rest of the ponies? When the greatest have grown wealthy, what will happen to the rest of them?”
“Luna, this is not like you,” Snowdrop said, reaching out for Luna’s hoof. “Just last year you told me how proud you were of your sister’s work. And it is great work that you are doing. Canterlot grows bigger every day, and the borders have been quiet all winter.”
“What about these ponies without homes?” Luna continued. “Canterlot has mansions and storehouses, shops of all kinds, yet not enough homes for a few thousand vagrants.”
“And that is why they are vagrants,” Snowdrop said. “Luna, is that all?”
“The principle sickens me,” she said through her teeth. “There are ponies here wealthy enough to feed and house every orphan in Equestria. There are grain stores and cellars full of food, yet ponies are starving. They have bricks and workers to build a five-storey theatre, but not enough for a single orphanage before the winter. How can any sane pony justify all this?”
“Whatever your sister is doing, most ponies believe that it works.” Snowdrop downed the last of her tea. “It’s visible progress. Well, generally visible. You know me.”
She laughed. Normally Luna would join in.
“Tell me, Snowdrop, has your mother reaped the rewards of this progress?” she asked instead.
“Well, I hardly see how she can,” she replied. “She is a citizen of Cloudsdale, after all. We prosper when Equestria prospers, but we are apart from you.”
“Is that what she taught you?” Luna laughed humorlessly. “Ah, Primrose. Such a good peasant. Snowdrop, how do you feel if I told you that Alpine Breeze owns land all over Equestria? That your mayor has been receiving obscene payments from Canterlot? That the least lieutenant of the Cloudsdale Reserve will be the founder of a family line far greater than yours? Does that sound fair? Does that not make your blood boil?”
Snowdrop cowered as Princess Luna’s voice grew louder and louder. She seemed hideous and terrible, and not like herself at all.
“I am sorry, Snowdrop,” Luna said, suddenly reverting to her old form. “Such things trouble my mind. That is all. Please forgive me.”
“Even if what you say was true,” Snowdrop said. “It is not my place to question such things. I know my place, and I am content.”
“And what of all those children out in the cold?” Luna asked. “Should they be content also?”
“They are there for a reason,” she said. “I doubt an orphanage will change anything. In Cloudsdale we take care of our own. Until the ponies on the ground start following our example nothing will get better. Their bloodlines are hopelessly mixed, and that is the root of the issue.”
Luna did not speak immediately. When she did, it was with a new kind of anger. Now Snowdrop was the sole target of the Princess’s wrath.
“Is this the opinion in Cloudsdale? Is this what you have turned into, after all these years? Who taught you this?
“A pony like yourself should have been abandoned as soon as you were born! If there is anypony who should be sympathetic, it is you! Don’t you forget that, Snowdrop!”
Snowdrop turned away before the first tear left her eye. The guards did nothing to stop her as she fled down the hall. She heard Princess Luna running behind her, calling her name.
She was flying before she cleared the threshold.
Author's Note
Aaaaaand see you in I don't know. I'll be traveling a lot in the next month and a half.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                         Beautiful                         
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Beautiful
I’ll never be finished with this place, Snowdrop thought.
The third expansion to the weather team warehouse was well underway, though at this point it was really not fair to call it a warehouse anymore. Three storeys high with full-thickness walls, it was a worthy headquarter for the eight hundred weatherkeepers of Cloudsdale.
She called the lunch break early. Some warmth had returned to the sunlight; spring would be upon Equestria in another day or two. The weather team gathered on the roof of the warehouse, as was their tradition on warmer days.
Parhelia opened an oiled-paper package and offered it to Snowdrop. She thought they were figs at first, but it was a lot smaller and stickier. The grainy, slightly sour fruit was sealed with a sugar lacquer, and had seeds exactly like pebbles.
“What is it?” She asked after eating two.
“Candied haws,” Parhelia replied. “It was a good year in my town. In a lot of places, actually. I’m surprised you don’t have much more than fodder grass in Cloudsdale.”
“Price of fodder went down a little,” Snowdrop said. “That’s one of the few downsides of Cloudsdale. The only downside, and it wasn’t always this way. We used to collect tributes from the cities on the ground, until Celestia came along and made Canterlot the centre of everything.”
“Now, you don’t know that,” Parhelia said shyly. “Those days were before even your mother’s time.”
The rest of the weather team was silent. They were embarrassed whenever Snowdrop brought up these things.
“We all know it’s true,” Snowdrop said. “Ask any pure-blooded pegasus born in Cloudsdale. You there, Frost Wing! Tell us about the Stormless Winter!”
The older pegasus choked on her sandwich. She was a senior sergeant, and had only completed her weatherkeeping training last month.
“Go on,” Snowdrop said, standing up and walking across the roof towards her. “It’s not against any law I’ve heard of.”
“No.” She agreed. “But it’s in bad taste, you must admit.”
“Since when was history in bad taste?”
Cumulonimbus landed beside Snowdrop, keeping her wings half-spread.
“You’re telling me that you’re embarrassed by our greatest year?”
“In the context of Equestria, it wasn’t such a great year,” Frost Wing said. “Yes, the earth ponies had a record harvest, but it was mostly offset by the tribute that Cloudsdale took. Ponies still starved come spring, and Cloudsdale didn’t lose nearly as many as, say, Filly Delphia.”
“Well who gives a hoot about Filly Delphia?” Cumulonimbus said. “We did what we could, and we took what they gave us! Better than everything going to Canterlot for doing nothing!”
“Nim, that’s enough,” Snowdrop interrupted. “We don’t need to fight over something this small.”
Cumulonimbus returned to her cloud with stiff wings. Snowdrop went through the motion of glancing around before sitting down. Nopony spoke. Parhelia let her keep the rest of the haws.
City Hall had been completely rebuilt, with outer and inner chambers. The latter Snowdrop had never entered except when it was being built. It seated the council comfortably, each Noble Family getting its own desk.
Snowdrop had the floor, which was more than enough for her. Entirely too much, if some ponies were allowed to speak their mind.
“Before you speak on Canterlot’s behalf, let me remind you of who you are; who we are!”
A murmur went around the room; there was even some giggling at the mare who wore a tattered peasant’s cloak over her beautiful flight suit.
“We are the noblest race! Born of the wind! Earth ponies cannot bring rain to their crops, and unicorns cannot tame our fierce storms! All of Equestria depends on the work of pegasi!
“But for as long as I can remember, we have been nothing but a fancy toy for Canterlot. Our best are called away to serve on the border, or to watch over some other city. What help did Canterlot give us while our city crumbled?”
There was a great din of argument. A few councillors got up, but others held them back.
“Ungrateful swine!” Somepony shouted.
“Blind fool!”
Snowdrop scowled.
“I don’t mean to overthrow Canterlot,” she said. “But we must stand up for ourselves! If Cloudsdale prospers, so will Equestria!”
Her most violent opposition was the minority. She could feel some interest in the audience, some curiosity and some fear.
“We were not always this glorified balloon over Canterlot!”
“Shut up, you filthy…”
There was a struggle, and the voice fell silent.
“Cloudsdale was once a mobile fortress! We kept the borders back when Canterlot was nothing but a ring of villages. Our ancestors quelled the worst sea storms! They fought back the diamond dogs until they could not show their faces above ground, and then we flooded their burrows!
“You all know what happened to Cloudsdale’s sails. Even in the time of your grandparents Cloudsdale had sails. After Canterlot became the capital, we were ever burdened with obligations to the Kingdom of Equestria. When we our city began to fall apart, the sails were the first losses.
“Now look at the state of weatherkeeping in Equestria! My team and I have trained over a thousand weatherkeepers to send out in addition to the Cloudsdale Reserve, but what can they do, if they are spread out so thin? There are fifty weather keepers in Filly Delphia, as ordained by Canterlot. What chance do they have even in a medium hurricane season?
“Equestria needs protectors, and we are the best! Imagine Cloudsdale swift and strong, with twenty thousand weatherkeepers responding simultaneously. Imagine moving over fifty thousand troops from Canterlot to the southern border in one day! A strong Equestria doesn’t have to mean the end of Cloudsdale. Don’t be afraid that we might overshadow Canterlot in all our glory; you don’t smash out your teeth so your tongue does not become jealous. Equestria cannot survive without us!”
There was some jeering as Snowdrop went out, but they were overshadowed by other voices. She did not hear Alpine Breeze in either group, and counted it as a victory.
“Like this, mommy?”
The trails of vapor swirled around Wintergreen, guided by his tiny wings. He had five streams which never crossed, but he was having trouble with the sixth. It reached out tentatively from the cloud beneath him, but refused to form.
“That’s perfect,” Snowdrop said with a smile.
It was already dark. Sunshower stood in the doorway with a mug of cinnamon tea. Perhaps he could see a little under the moonlight.
“I got it!”
The sixth stream broke away all at once, twirling around the lower two before reaching a stable orbit.
“Mommy, I got it! Look!”
Very rarely did she feel the old yearning. Now she felt it, for she was sure that if she got her sight at that moment, even for a fraction of a second, she would see the most beautiful scene in the world.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                         The Hero                          
//-------------------------------------------------------//
The Hero
“Tuck in your wings between strokes! It’s a hundred times easier that way!”
Wintergreen ducked behind his sail, avoiding the one above. The two other colts working with him did likewise. Firefly did not react fast enough, and was flung into the windward side of the next row of sails.
The wind shifted. After making the proper adjustments, Wintergreen took a quick glance down. Cloudsdale was flying relatively low. Lakes and rivers passed beneath him, and dry land was covered in a dense canopy of trees. Sail operators always stayed on the leeward side, half-sitting on ledges built into the “mast” of the cloud sails.
The vapour canvas was a sight to behold. Even from a few metres away it looked like some kind of silk. Now that he nearly had his nose against it, Wintergreen saw that it was a sheet of fast-moving vapour trapped in a broad circuit. Tiny sparks danced in the hollow space within, adding up to an almost musical buzz.
His entire class was learning to work the sails. It had become part of the curriculum as soon as Cloudsdale started moving again some three years earlier.
“Wintergreen, make some room for Firefly.”
The pinkish filly slammed into the mast, nearly destabilizing the sail. Her brows were furrowed in frustration. Her large wings pumped forcefully, and now she kept her head well within the safe zone.
“You’re going to flatten our sail,” Wintergreen muttered.
Firefly eased up grudgingly. For the rest of the afternoon there were no more accidents. Plover Wing went up and down the row, offering some advice occasionally.
When their lessons ended, Wintergreen climbed onto the dark grey battlement above the sails and looked to the north. Cloudsdale was flying along Equestria’s northern border. It was his favorite part of the circuit by far. The chill arctic wind was refreshing, and there was so much variety on the ground below. Water was plentiful in the form of glassy lakes and narrow streams. The forest was punctuated by expanses of grass or bog. Sometimes he could see bears and caribou, and even the occasional wolf.
Further away the treeline ended. An earth pony would have seen nothing but a hazy horizon, but a pegasus with keen eyes could easily make out the brown and yellow tundra. With a bit of squinting, Wintergreen could even see a band of white: ancient arctic ice.
“Winter!”
Wintergreen jumped up. Firefly was glaring at him. She wore a bright blue cloak with a red collar, fastened with a brooch in the shape of a lightning bolt.
“What is it, Firefly?”
“What did you mean when you said I would flatten the sail?”
“That’s all I meant,” Wintergreen said, standing up and taking a step towards her. “What’s your problem?”
“You’re showing off!” She said. “You learned all this from your mom, and then you come to school and pretend you’re the best! That’s not fair!”
Before Wintergreen could respond she took off.
What’s her problem?
Several pegasi were approaching from the south; messengers from Canterlot, judging by their armor. Plover Wing flew out to meet them. Sensing some trouble, Wintergreen retreated from the wall.
“If you could just talk to her…”
“I am no longer on good terms with Princess Luna, I’m afraid.”
Maybe that was stretching the truth a little. After the incident in Canterlot six years ago, Princess Luna had not been completely absent from Cloudsdale. Once or twice a year she showed up for tea, and she always had some trinket for Wintergreen on his birthday. She was in Cloudsdale shortly after Roseroot was born, and she sent a gift for Sun Ray. But it was painfully clear that such things were done out of courtesy. She and Snowdrop could still share a laugh sometimes, but their conversations were superficial at best.
“Snowdrop, I got the word from Princess Celestia’s personal guards,” Plover Wing said. “They’re waiting at the wall. Maybe you should see them at least?”
“If Princess Luna knows anything about those missing children, and if she made up her mind to never speak of it to anyone, what more can I do? Her own sister can’t get her to talk.”
“I can’t just tell them like that,” Plover Wing said. “I kept them away from your house so far. If you would just come with me and speak with them, maybe they won’t have to come into the city.”
Snowdrop sighed.
“Winter,” she called into her much-expanded house. “I’m heading out for an hour or two. Keep an eye on your sisters.”
Sunshower had come home by the time she returned. The guards had been dispatched rather violently after they tried to tie her up. Royal Guards would do almost anything to get their job done.
“What happened, mom?” Wintergreen asked after his sisters were sent to bed.
“Kids are going missing from the Canterlot Orphanage,” she said, hugging Wintergreen as if he too might disappear. “They think Princess Luna has something to do with it. Now you know not to go spreading rumors, right?”
Wintergreen rolled his eyes.
“Good,” Snowdrop said. “So how do you like working the sails? Would you do it for the rest of your life?”
“No way,” Wintergreen answered, grimacing. “It’s good scenery, but you don’t really do anything.”
Snowdrop chuckled and smoothed Wintergreen’s mane. “You’re a great weatherkeepr for your age. The weather team’s not so bad nowadays. When I was little that was one of the worst jobs. If you didn’t die on the job, earth ponies will kill you as soon as you touched the ground.”
Wintergreen felt a chill. Snowdrop’s jaw was clamped tight, and her hazy eyes gazed out the living room window.
“But it’s all good now,” she said almost lightheartedly. “Besides, what else is a pure-blooded pegasus supposed to do? Farm?”
The storm was entirely expected. It appeared every year at about the same time, a giant swirling mass of sand on the bottom and a solid black cloud at the top. From a hundred kilometres away the weather team felt its wind. Most were already wearing goggles and scarves full time.
“The outposts are evacuated,” the scout said.
“We have about five hours before it reaches a major city,” Snowdrop said to everypony she passed. “Get us as high as we can go. There’s going to be a strong downdraft at some point. I need the entire Cloudsdale Reserve out there in five minutes.”
Instead of goggles Snowdrop wore a metal-backed blindfold for one hundredth the price. There were some bizarre upsides to being blind.
Five hundred weatherkeepers had been deployed since morning. Seven were already missing. Still the desert storm raged on.
She spoke to a few of the weather team leaders before launching off the wall between waves of fresh weatherkeepers. Cloudsdale had already risen one kilometre since she first gave the order.
Immediately she was caught by a powerful current and pulled down. Nothing could slow her descent; she could only hope to catch an updraft before she hit the ground.
She found it after two kilometres, and immediately slammed into another body. The pony above her flailed her limbs, making both of them spin. Snowdrop restrained her, and rested in the current for a moment. After reorienting herself, she launched into an aggressive climb.
The blast of grit surprised her. Sand filled her mouth instantly, finding every break in her mask. Her flight suit remained miraculously intact, but she felt every impact on her skin. The feathers were stripped from her wings.
She would learn later just how close she had come to the ground. For the moment she found another current and ascended back into the clouds. Her ears had done nothing for her thus far; the howling wind drowned out all the subtleties she could usually depend on.
We’ll retreat. Cut our losses.
Calling out achieved nothing; there was no sound except the wind. Nor could she feel any currents across her skin from beating wings. The entire Cloudsdale Reserve and every weatherkeeper had simply disappeared.
She let go of the other pegasus; it might have been Cumulonimbus, but no one could know for sure with several dozen such collisions that day. Then she was completely alone, with barely a sense of up and down.
Snowdrop fought against the wind with all her strength. She was swirling around in a big circle. While a weather team could normally disrupt such a current by flying in the opposite direction, she could barely turn around. The storm quickly sapped her strength, until she had no choice but to tumble through its winds.
As she stropped struggling, her wild trajectory began to feel oddly relaxing. She was moving at an incredible speed, yet the path was predictable. After a few laps she realized that it was a slightly oblong loop, about five kilometres in circumference. And somehow she knew that she was near the top of the storm.
All at once she knew what to do. The wind still roared, yet there was silence somewhere. Snowdrop sensed the currents as clearly as rivers on the ground. Their size was frightening, but it was only air and water.
She reached out with her hooves, trying to stand up in the wispy clouds that surrounded her. It was like trying to hang from cotton strands at first, but she could gather enough to hold her weight.
“Everypony, get back to Cloudsdale,” she said.
The wind carried her voice now; where a loud bellow would have been drowned out minutes earlier, now her voice was heard. And she could sense the others too, as thousands of ponies fell away from the storm, some with great effort.
Snowdrop sailed through the many winds, zigzagging towards the calm eye of the storm. As she moved deeper into the storm its shape was revealed. It was magnificent in its size and complexity, but its elements were familiar.
And then all was still.
The air was very thin. Snowdrop reached back, thinking to take a piece of cloud. Instead what she felt on her hoof was completely dry. A strand of wind.
She tried again. The wind tickled her skin; an aura of dense, breathable air circling her limbs.
Snowdrop did it again and again, until she held a globe between her hooves. She breathed from this as she hovered in the oppressive stillness, with cloud walls on every side.
It was a tangled mess of wind and clouds; she could reach into any stream and glean information from many leagues away. In one she sensed Cloudsdale, hovering high overhead but not out of harm’s way. The nameless settlement on the ground was starting to feel the first tendrils of the storm.
Do something. Anything.
She expected the storm to fight her efforts, but it yielded upon the slightest touch. A band of wind several metres wide broke away and struck another, canceling it out. The walls around her wavered and crumbled.
The new sensations had distracted Snowdrop form the danger; now, as giant trees of lightning arced across the closing eye, her original mindset returned in part. She had no trouble finding the sky. Directing dry wind as easily as a cloud, she rode the current up through the dying storm.
Cloudsdale was directly overhead. She could hardly believe how fast she was going. Her wings were almost bare, yet the air kept her moving. She could have changed directions to land on the crowded battlement, but she didn’t. Her senses were sharper than ever. In that moment she knew the whole sky: the dissipating clouds; sand and pebbles raining down many kilometres below; every single pegasus in Cloudsdale. And she had power over all of it.
The thick underside of the city was only a few metres away. Snowdrop did not slow down. She reached out and flicked her wrists, though even that little gesture felt unnecessary.
A corridor opened up through all fifty metres of the basement layer, more than wide enough to accommodate her. Fortunately there was nopony in the street above.
She shot through the tunnel and turned an impossibly tight corner, finally skidding to a halt in a pile of cloud. Help came within seconds. She was lifted by at least three ponies, and almost immediately found herself lying in a ward with the rest of her weather team. They were all talking and cheering and fighting off nurses, and tired though she was she couldn’t help but smile.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                       Read My Mind                        
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Read My Mind
Snowdrop “watched” the procession from a distance. Never had she revealed the full extent of her newfound power to anyone. Indeed, she was not sure that she knew it herself. But a new sense had opened up, so that she could walk more boldly and fly with unprecedented ease.
Cloudsdale hovered over Canterlot with all sails stowed. When news first arrived from Canterlot that Cloudsdale must return, most pegasi were against it. Most changed their minds when they learned the details.
After ten years of war, the zebras were finally defeated. Snowdrop remembered the battle only vaguely. Three months earlier she had been tasked with preparing a large lightning storm far past Equestria’s southeast border, and several other weatherkeepers had commented then on the great number of soldiers marching towards Savanna. Having no military experience herself, Snowdrop did not think much of it.
Sitting on her cloud, Snowdrop could make out the shape of the crowd. There was a parade going up towards the Royal Palace along the south road, and ponies were lined up past the city wall. Soldiers cheered, drank and claimed wreaths of cedar and mistletoe from the bystanders. The squeaking of cart wheels went on for hours, and gave Snowdrop a headache.
There was something special about the last cart. Unlike the other cages full of prisoners, this one had only one occupant. The excitement of the crowd became slightly subdued as it passed, and up in Cloudsdale pegasi were leaning over their clouds to get a better look.
“Who is that?” Snowdrop asked Sunshower when she found him in a lower cloud.
“Zecora the Doomseer,” he replied, putting a hoof on her shoulder and pulling her down as if she could see. “She was King Zebulun’s most trusted prophetess.”
“His what?”
“Exactly what it sounds like, dear,” Sunshower said. “The Zebras believe that some have the power to see the future. Prophets and prophetesses are well-respected. Zecora is famous for big prophecies. Stuff like plagues and wars… murder…”
“And she’s why we’re here?” Snowdrop said. “Why would anypony want to hear her fortunes?”
“The Noble Families all want a go at it,” Sunshower said. “You don’t believe in this stuff, do you?”
Snowdrop shook her head.
“It’s just something that has to happen. Nobility means a whole lot of strange things. Just go along with it. Not every peasant gets a chance to meet somepony like this.”
“But I don’t want to meet her,” Snowdrop said. “Why would I?”
“It would be impolite not to,” Sunshower said, holding her closer. “You were invited among the heads of the Noble Families. What would it mean if you refused to show up, especially for somepony in your position? They won’t see it as modesty. You’re much closer to the Princesses than any of them can ever hope to be.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Sunshower sighed. “Don’t be so simple, okay? You can’t keep living like you’re just another weather team captain. Ponies think you’re powerful, and they don’t care what you say. You have to be more careful. The Noble Families are easy to offend, and they’ve been watching you for years. They’re much more petty and treacherous than you think. Just humor them, okay?”
“Alright, I’ll see her,” Snowdrop said.
Zecora passed through the castle gate. The crowd closed in, trying to get one last glimpse. The last few soldiers had to push their way through a much less friendly crowd.
It was past midnight when Snowdrop was ushered into the dungeon by one of Princess Luna’s guards. She had not encountered either of the princesses that night, even at the banquet. At least Wing Collar left her alone, although she could feel his glare coming from the kitchen door.
“If it’s alright with you, ma’am, I’m not lighting a torch,” the bat-winged pony said. “The prisoners get really nasty when they know there are visitors nearby, and neither of us need the light.”
The cool dungeon was damper than a storm cloud and reeked of mildew despite its moderate age. Each metal door had a single slit, and Snowdrop could smell wax vapors coming from some of them. She and the guard moved silently, avoiding all attention until they reached their destination three flights of stairs below ground level. The spicy smell of exotic incense grew ever stronger. Snowdrop sneezed as she approached the doorway.
“You might want to cover your nose,” the guard said before turning the key.
The large cell was dense with smoke and uncomfortably warm from an abundance of giant candles. At first Snowdrop could not find the prisoner, until a soft shape on the mattress moved. Zecora was wrapped tightly in many heavy blankets. Only her face was exposed.
“Close the door in this hall of stone,” it said in a surprisingly deep and throaty voice. “The cold has settled in my bones.”
Snowdrop’s ears flicked. She had never heard such an accent before.
“What is this, child of the night? She is not nobility yet, is Zecora right?”
“What is she talking about?” Snowdrop whispered to her guide. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Don’t mind it,” she replied. “She’s always like this. Just ask her questions.”
“What kinds of questions?” Snowdrop said.
“About your future, I guess,” the guard said. “Oh, I don’t know… I had to wear earplugs when the others asked.”
“Well, what would you say?” Snowdrop took the guard’s shoed hoof in hers.
“I…” She looked down for a moment, and then spoke very slowly. “I want to know… Well…”
“Speak up child, do not be shy,” the zebra intoned. “You want to know if tomorrow your niece will cry. Rest assured, your sister is well. But as to long lives, only time will tell.”
“My niece?” The guard repeated. “How do you…”
She stared at the zebra with awe and wonder.
Snowdrop felt the zebra’s thoughtful gaze. It was not malicious. It was rather sad, but not in a pitying way. Nevertheless it made her more uncomfortable than ever.
“Now you know,” Snowdrop said to the guard, backing away towards the door. “It's getting late. I should leave.”
“Snowdrop of Cloudsdale, do not go,” Zecora called, standing up to the sound of anklets rattling under her pile of blankets. “Your own fortune has not been told.”
“That’s okay,” Snowdrop said, already halfway out the door. She wondered if Zecora had noticed the goosebumps on her skin. “Listen, I don’t actually care. I don’t even have regular sight, so I don’t know what I’d do with foresight.”
“Then you are the most sensible fool tonight,” Zecora said. “Such a mind in one without sight. But a fool still, I say, for not hearing your fate, though even Zecora would refuse knowledge so terrible and great.
“Listen, Snowdrop and Silverwing both. In years to come you will find many foes. Equestria will hate you and cast you out, for the princess to whom you rarely knelt. Snowdrop, Cloudsdale is an ungrateful city. To waste your love there is such a pity. But though they mock and destroy, your line will live on. And one day return to a throne and crown.”
Snowdrop found herself petrified until Zecora finished. Her voice was powerful but not menacing. She was simply telling what she knew, and anyone who could hear must listen.
“Is that all?” Snowdrop asked when the spell was broken.
“It is wise to keep these words in mind,” Zecora said with a smile. “And my last telling for you will prove true in kind. Before the next year a visitor will come, to show you her home without cymbals and drums. What comes after I leave to you, for you still think me a liar, is that not true?”
“Goodbye, Zecora,” Snowdrop said, and left the cell before the zebra could talk some more.
The guard locked the door quickly. Snowdrop though she heard a deep, knowing laugh as she went up the stairs.
“Snowdrop, I am here. Wake up and come outside.”
Snowdrop squeezed her eyes shut and flexed her neck muscles. A few seconds later she felt the warmth of her bed. Sunshower was fast asleep beside her. She left the bed carefully, making no sound on the cloud floor.
The early summer night was warm enough that she went outside without a cloak. Princess Luna stood alone in the middle of the empty street without a light on her horn.
“Come with me,” she whispered, holding out a hoof. “There is something I want to show you, but it might take some time.”
“How much time?” Snowdrop asked.
“Less than a day,” Luna said. “Snowdrop, you were not always this way. Ten years ago you would have come with me without question. Are you not even slightly curious? I want to show you my secret work. I am putting my trust in you once again. You know me too well to think much of this, but it is not easy on my part.”
“Ten years is a long time,” Snowdrop commented, but she took Luna’s hoof. “I guess time doesn’t matter as much for you.”
“It didn’t,” Luna said cryptically.
The two did not fly far before Snowdrop felt a change in the air. It was Luna’s magic, but the spell was foreign. The air seemed to slow down around her, until she felt like she was hovering at a snail’s pace. All the little hints of location disappeared too; she was floating in a pristine bubble.
How do you blindfold a pony who’s already blind?
“What are you doing?” Snowdrop asked, getting closer to Luna.
“This is a transit spell,” Luna said. “I invented it several years ago when I was faced with a rather daunting challenge.”
Snowdrop thought better of asking what that challenge was. After some time, she managed to piece together what the transit spell involved. She was floating in an egg of still air, while powerful wind whistled against a magical shell. With not effort or discomfort she was moving with frightening speed, and without any sense of direction.
The destination was truly distant, far beyond Equestria’s borders. Suddenly dawn broke, and Snowdrop felt a flash of panic.
“Do not be alarmed,” Luna said. “We have only gone a little while. It is still dark in Equestria.”
Snowdrop had no idea the world was so big. The sun was soon high overhead, yet she felt little of its heat. Then it was behind her, and still she flew on.
At last the bubble slowed down. The warm salty wind hit her hard when the spell was dropped. She heard Luna descending in a big spiral, and followed her closely. Waves were crashing on a rocky shore, and she heard voices coming from far, far below.
“… you’d come just a few days later, we would have something for you,” a filly was saying. “We’re still living off last year’s harvest.”
“Do you need anything from Equestria?” Luna asked.
“For once, no,” she replied. “But we still need to make more land. We were lucky last year.”
“Have the griffins given you any trouble?”
“They’ve been quiet,” she said. “We had one family living with us for the winter; they’re Goldenhands who got stuck on the coast. They left as soon as the Pass cleared.”
“You did the right thing, Gari,” Luna said, patting down the filly’s short messy mane. “Now make sure everyone’s here. I have a guest today.”
Snowdrop could feel the attention turning to her. Somehow she had not noticed most of the ponies gathered on the shore. What she thought at first to be no more than a dozen children turned out to be nearly a hundred ponies. More than half were bat ponies, though they did not wear the armor of Luna’s guard.
“Everyone,” Luna announced. “This is Snowdrop, Stormmaster of Cloudsdale.”
An excited murmur propagated through the crowd. Snowdrop did not flinch.
“I told you before, by bringing you here I do not mean to send you into exile,” Luna said in an echoing voice. “You were innocent, and you are innocent still. You will be part of Equestria’s success, and I will not cut you off from the rest of your kind. Today I must leave before noon, so make use of this time.”
The children crowded around the visitors; only a few pegasi stared at Snowdrop now, and they did not dare speak to her. Luna led the way to a one storey stone house. Inside were hay bales and a small fireplace which was unlit, and nothing else. Luna sat down in the hay and made Snowdrop do the same.
“Luna, where are we?” Snowdrop asked, ignoring the children who were still in the room.
“This is the Colony, Snowdrop,” Luna said. “I have no other name for it. These are my children. This is Magpie, and this is Candlelight.”
The children who had been speaking to Luna paused and bowed to Snowdrop.
“That colt in the back is Fly-By-Night. Don’t be shy, dear. Come forward.”
Fly-By-Night was a pegasus colt, a little younger than Wintergreen but not by much. He was rather bulky for a pegasus. In fact most of the children were built like earth ponies.
“Luna,” Snowdrop said. “Are these the children from the Canterlot Orphanage?”
Every voice fell silent abruptly. All the warmth went away. The children now gave her all their attention. Out of the crowd she picked out Gari, standing very close to another filly and glaring at Snowdrop.
“Don’t you dare speak of that place,” she said. “If you are here to take us back and lock us away again, we will drown ourselves before you raise a hoof!”
“Gari…” Luna said sadly.
“Mom, take her back to Equestria! Why did you even bring her here? What is she supposed to do?”
“Gari, go lie down for a while,” Luna said patiently. “Magpie, go with your sister and make sure she does not hurt herself. The rest of you can leave too. I will see each of you before I go, this I promise.”
Some of the children were more reluctant to leave than others. A particularly young colt cried all the way out the door.
“You should be more careful what you say,” Luna said. “Granted, that was partly my fault. I should have been more open with you years ago.”
“Luna,” Snowdrop said, “I know that you mean well. But what you are doing here… We’re not in Equestria anymore, are we?”
“There is nothing for these children in Equestria,” Luna said angrily. “My sister values only the strong! She values gold and silk and fine food! She loves loud companions and rowdy courts! And whatever that is blemished, whatever that is not quite beautiful, these things she throws out of her kingdom!
“These children were locked away for years in a shack. Every night I saw their nightmares, and their days were worse. Sick, starving, rotting in their own filth. I shouldn’t have stood by for even a day, yet I waited months. I fooled myself to think that if only I spoke louder and argued more, ponies will aid my cause. But no one would.
“Ninety-seven children were all that were left when I finally decided to do the work myself. Their minds and bodies were by then mostly destroyed. For the first year my guards and I took care of them, but even the best care could not undo all the damage. Now the forty-eight here are all that remain. After all their ordeals in Equestria, do I really do too much to give them a land of their own?”
“But these are not your children,” Snowdrop said. “You can keep telling them that, and it will never be true. Will you tell Celestia about this place one day?”
“Do not be so stiff-necked, Snowdrop! Do you think my sister cares at all about you, or likes you in any way? Do not side with her, Snowdrop. Never side with her in matters of kindness. She deceives you without lying, she is loyal to herself only, she has magic enough to drive a kingdom into the ground, but she will never be kind! Nor is she reasonable or just! Take no vow to serve her, and do not trust her!”
Snowdrop stood up, but she could not retreat. She feared the wrath of her old friend more than ever, yet it was friendship that kept her rooted to the ground. Something had changed in Princess Luna’s voice as she spoke. At times Snowdrop sensed the form of a bloodthirsty beast where the alicorn stood, roaring almost-words.
“Luna, don’t speak so rashly,” she said. “I agree with you on many things. You have always been kind to my family, and a great friend throughout the years, but how can anypony, even you, say that their plans are flawless? Your secret is safe with me, Luna, but whatever aid you may seek in this matter I cannot provide. Please, speak with your sister; about anything. Luna, something is not right with you.”
Snowdrop ducked, and felt Luna’s hoof brush her ears. Luna stood frozen in an unsteady pose, staring wide-eyed at the limb like it was not her own.
“I am very sorry,” she said blankly. “That was beneath me. I…”
“Luna, we have to leave soon,” Snowdrop said. The spell was broken; Luna resumed her slender, regal form. Snowdrop stepped off the hay pile. “Go, comfort your children. But take care of yourself too. I worry about you, Luna.”
“Save your worry for somepony who needs it,” Luna said sharply, turning around at the doorframe. She paused for a long time, during which Snowdrop heard her silver shoes shift nervously on the floor. “Wait here,” she said in a softer tone. “I will take you back to Cloudsdale in time, I promise.”
The bat ponies did not return until Princess Luna was far away. Then a large mare evidently from Luna’s guard walked into the room and leaned in close to Snowdrop.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Princess Luna has changed a lot in recent months. You were not wrong, Snowdrop. We have all noticed it. Thank you for telling her so. We cannot.”
“You must be one of her most trusted guards, if she left you to care for her children,” Snowdrop said. "Does she never consult you in these matters?"
“Perhaps I have said too much already,” she said. “Take care, Snowdrop. And look out. Something bad is going to happen. I don’t know what.”

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                    The Circle Is Small                    
//-------------------------------------------------------//
The Circle Is Small
“Who’s there?”
Snowdrop had never felt so scared in her own home. The presence at the foot of her bed was large and powerful, yet entirely fluid. Its tendril reached all over the room, worming through the cloud floor and walls.
“Do you not recognize me, Snowdrop?”
She dared not speak. She reached for Sunshower, forcefully prodding his shoulder, but he did not stir.
“Have you really forgotten me, my old friend?”
“Your voice sounds familiar,” Snowdrop said quietly. “That’s all.”
“Really, Snowdrop?” It said in a booming voice. In the silence that followed nothing moved. “Do you not recognize my face? My body?”
“What body?” Snowdrop asked, her voice a little stronger than before.
“Come closer,” It said. “Touch my face.”
Snowdrop propped Sunshower up in bed and shook him with all her strength, but he slept on.
“You cannot wake him, or anypony in Cloudsdale. Night is for sleeping, is it not? This night is short, but there is still enough left for us. Come here.”
Snowdrop felt the form surging towards her. A hoof took hers; she felt a cool metal shoe, but it seemed to her to be made of the thinnest silver foil. The limb that wore it was little more than warm air, just solid enough to hold her hoof without passing through her entirely.
The face was thin; skeletal. Parts of it seemed to materialize out of the ether beneath her hooves, only to dissolve once more when her hooves continued on.
A crown.
A horn.
Wings.
“Well?”
“I…” Snowdrop hardly dared to speak. “I don’t know you.”
“It is I, Snowdrop!” Declared the voice. It came from all around, and even from within Snowdrop’s own head. “I, Princess Luna of Equestria! The lesser princess, or so I used to be.”
Snowdrop focused all her senses on the central mass of the being. Its longest tendrils had faded deep into the clouds that made up her home. Energy cracked through the air like lightning. But it was not lightning; lightning she could control, but this energy was entirely foreign. The vapor that claimed to be Luna flowed in an unfelt current, and writhed like an octopus trapped in a jar. Sometimes Snowdrop got a glimpse of something familiar; hints of a long regal leg, or the rustling of a wing.
“I want you to know that I forgive you, Snowdrop,” Luna said. “We were both too preoccupied with our own concerns, especially in recent years. I had my children to care for, and you have yours. They have grown into strong ponies, and I can say the same for your son Wintergreen. I passed by his home tonight. It is almost as good as your own work.”
“Leave him alone,” Snowdrop said coldly. “Luna, what happened to you?”
“I have grown, just as you have grown,” she said. “Just as everything in the world grows. I am wiser than before, and stronger in every way. And I am here with gifts for you; gifts I wanted to give to you years ago, but was never able to.
“By noon today I will be the only princess of Equestria. My children will have Canterlot as their rightful inheritance, and you will have the entire sky. Cloudsdale will have no more mayors or generals, only the Stormmaster. Your line will be the greatest, entirely above the Noble Families.”
Even Snowdrop’s humble heart was moved by that offer. She rose off her bed and landed in front of Luna; dangerously close. A smile tugged at her lips, but she forced it down.
To be the greatest pegasus of her time, recognized by all; nopony could shun such an idea entirely.
“You are pleased,” Luna observed. “But this is only the beginning. I can give you powers. Magic. Somepony will have to watch over the sun in my sister’s absence, and my children are not yet ready for such a task. You can have it, Snowdrop. Give it to your son if you do not want the burden, or one of your daughters. Whoever it is, they will be the most honored official in my court, equal to my own children.”
Wintergreen, the Lord of the Sun. Or will it be Sunray? Woodbine? But already many voices were screaming in her mind, calling her back from the brink.
“And the thing you wanted the most,” Luna continued. “The thing you've wanted for all your life. Snowdrop, it has taken me decades to design this spell. Now it is perfect, and I have the power to cast it. Tonight you will see.”
Her blood turned cold as those words sank in.
“Ever since I met you, I wanted to give you your eyesight. Pegasi are so proud of their far-seeing eyes. I still cannot imagine how difficult it was for you to live in darkness all these years.
“I meant to give it to you when you were made Stormmaster of Cloudsdale, but the spell was far from ready. I tried again and again over the years, but you became less receptive as our friendship became strained. You would not even listen to me at the funeral. But now I am ready.
“You will have the most beautiful eyes. The best eyes. You need only accept my offer.”
“I cannot, Luna,” Snowdrop said slowly.
In an instant Luna changed. The tendrils flared out of the floor and the walls, and lashed the air. When they brushed against Snowdrop, she felt as if frost was forming on her coat.
“Am I not generous, Snowdrop?!” Luna roared. “Are you such an ungrateful foal that you would shun all my wonderful gifts? Any other pony would have kissed me eagerly for a fraction of what I am offering to you! The matriarch of the greatest Noble Family would grovel at my feet for any of these things that I am offering freely to you!”
“I want nothing from you,” Snowdrop said without raising her voice. Her heart pounded, but she stood tall.
The magical aura writhed and lashed out more viciously. The top layer of floor was torn to shreds, and cracks opened up in the walls. Snowdrop stood unharmed.
“I can give you so much more!” Luna said. Her voice was a little softened, but her wild passion had only grown. “Everything short of a kingdom of your own, I can give you. I will give you. No longer will the Noble Families of Cloudsdale scoff at you and your family. They will bow to you and kiss your shoes. You and all your descendants will have the first fruit from the best orchards of the earth ponies. You can have wealth beyond your wildest dreams. All I ask in return is that you accept these gifts. Take your new eyes now, and see me in my hour of victory. See me now, in all my glory! Say the words, and the line of the Stormmaster will be secure forevermore!”
“No.”
Like a flood Luna’s strange magic filled the room floor to ceiling. Snowdrop reached for the bits of clouds floating around her, creating a shroud of swirling air to shield herself. Gigantic projections pried at her defences. A few made contact, delivering mighty blows that made her knees buckle. But Snowdrop felt no pain.
“Look at me! Witness my power! look!”
“Not like this, Luna,” Snowdrop said softly.
Suddenly the storm had passed. Only Luna's “body” remained, its outline slowly undulating.
“What?”
“I don’t want to see you, Luna,” Snowdrop said shakily. “Not right now. And I don’t want your gifts.
“What happened to you, Luna? I don’t recognize you, and I don’t want to remember you like this.”
The shape did not speak immediately. Snowdrop could not discern even the vaguest outline of a pony in that writing mass.
“Will you accept anything from me?”
“No.”
“Then we have nothing left to discuss,” Luna said. “I will return after my victory. I will offer all this to you once again. Snowdrop, I want to be your friend.”
“And I want to be yours,” Snowdrop replied sadly.
She did not recall Luna leaving. Snowdrop woke up on the floor, with the sun through the wall coloring everything bloody red.
It seemed every pony in Cloudsdale was flying around in a panic. Snowdrop stayed low on the east watchtower. The settlements on the ground were not faring any better.
The sun had disappeared just before noon. Even Snowdrop missed the light.
She imagined the two alicorns in the sky. How long could they fight, she wondered?
And who should win?
She had not told anypony about Luna’s visit that morning. A small part of her still fantasized about Luna’s gifts. She knew Cloudsdale’s mansions all too well. When was the last time she thought about having one for herself? And all the unteachable children she had been tasked to teach; if she could make them bow, why wouldn’t she?
But it’s not right.
“Look!”
If Cloudsdale ever could capsize, it would have happened then. Every pony raced to the south side of the city, many of them overshooting the edge. Some took off well before then, apparently meaning to fly all the way to Canterlot.
The shockwave was little more than a soft breeze by the time it reached Cloudsdale.
Bit by bit the warmth of the sun returned, as if a veil had been lifted from the world.
Snowdrop breathed a sigh of relief.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                         Scrimshaw                         
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Scrimshaw
Primrose died in late spring. She had just returned home from the market. She was sixty-two. Her body was found on the day of her death by her neighbor.
The funeral was held at her home, attended mostly by her daughter’s friends and coworkers. Primrose had been a quiet mare in a time when the rest of her generation was vying for a place in the history books as matriarchs of noble lines. Her friends were solemn, old-looking ponies who mumbled their profound sadness without shedding tears. They did not indulge in long speeches or idle chatter, though many left flowers on their way out.
“Princess,” they said politely when it came their turn, and bowed before they went out into the late afternoon.
Snowdrop sat at the familiar little dinner table. About a dozen weatherkeepers stayed with her. Primrose never thought of herself as important enough to require a painting. It should have meant nothing to Snowdrop, but it was all she could think about.
My children aren’t blind. Their children won’t be blind. They’ll want to know what you looked like.
She knew that Princess Luna was still waiting. If she did not make time now, Snowdrop was sure to meet her old friend in a dream that night.
“Snowdrop, I…” Cumulonimbus trailed off when Snowdrop turned her head to face her.
“You have to go, I understand,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. That goes for the rest of you too. You can leave whenever you want. I appreciate you being here with me. I could not ask for a better team. But you each have your own business to attend to.”
When they were all gone, Snowdrop heard Princess Luna’s soft steps behind her. The two guards remained at their post on either side of the door.
“How are you, Snowdrop?” She asked gently. “Is there anything I can do? You rarely ask favors of me, though I am your friend.”
“It’s not all about you, Luna,” Snowdrop said. Her voice sounded strange in her ears.
“That was very disrespectful,” Luna said seriously. “I am a Princess of Equestria. You would not speak to my sister in that tone, would you?”
“I would never need to say it to her,” she replied. She put her head down on the table and closed her eyes. She wished Luna would go away. The change she had felt in the Colony had taken hold of her old friend. Anger always lurked just below the surface. She spoke more formally, and would often invoke her royal status even in casual conversations.
“Do not think that you will always be excused for your irreverence,” Luna said. “I have been your friend since you were a filly, but that does not make us equal.”
Sensing the imminence of disaster, Snowdrop chose not to answer. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed into her hooves.
Princess Luna inhaled sharply. The spell had passed, and she was gentle once more. She put a wing on Snowdrop’s back, but the pegasus cowered into the cloud.
“I will leave you be,” she said shakily. “Snowdrop…”
Fortunately for the princess, someone else ran into the house at that time. The guards tackled him as soon as he passed the threshold.
“Hey, let me go!”
It was a young stallion from the Cloudsdale Reserve. Snowdrop could hear the rattling of his buttons. He had a slip of paper in his breast pocket.
“Hello Princess,” he said sheepishly. He might as well have been greeting a drinking buddy.
Luna was not impressed. She gestured to the guards, who immediately dragged him back to the door.
“Snowdrop!” He cried. “I am here with good news! Hey! Let me in!”
“You came at an inopportune time,” Luna said sternly. “Do you not know what has happened here? Have a look around! Does this look like a house of celebration?”
“Luna, it’s okay,” Snowdrop said, wiping away her tears as best as she could. “This might be important.”
“Let him go,” Luna said after some thought. “Speak, soldier. What is your news?”
He reached into his pocket and took out the paper. It was a very large sheet, and must have been expensive. It had been folded many times to fit into his pocket.
“This is a petition signed by four thousand three hundred seventy five from the Cloudsdale Reserve, eight hundred and twenty seven citizens of Cloudsdale, and matriarchs of four Noble Families. Snowdrop, with your permission, we would like to nominate you as the next mayor of Cloudsdale.”
Snowdrop sensed the eyes on her. The soldier’s expectant, the guards’ puzzled, and the princess’ scrutinizing.
“This is unusual,” Luna said. “Snowdrop is a peasant by Cloudsdale’s own rules, and she is not an officer in any military. Is it not the responsibility of the Noble Families to select a mayor from their ranks?”
“It was,” he explained. “But since Mayor Fairweather resigned, an overwhelming number of citizens are in favor of promoting the Stormmaster. Snowdrop, you’ve done a lot for Cloudsdale; more than most mayors we’ve had in the last hundred years. I and many others believe that you are what this city needs.”
The giddy smile slowly left his face as he watched Snowdrop. She did not speak, and her face did not give any silent consent.
“Well?” He said slowly, giving the guards an uneasy glance. “Snowdrop, this will be great for you! Don’t take these numbers at face value. There are more than four Noble Families willing to accept you as an equal.”
“What about Alpine Breeze?” Snowdrop asked. “She is your superior; what are her thoughts?”
“She…” Glancing at Princess Luna’s face, he hesitated. “I… I should not comment on her opinions. I cannot, I mean. So will you do it?”
“You are asking a lot of me,” Snowdrop said. “Leave that petition here. I will think it over.”
“They are considering the candidates tomorrow,” he protested. “You must act quickly! Snowdrop, this is a great opportunity! If you would excuse me saying, I would agree to this in a heartbeat if I got this offer!”
“Then you are a fool!” Luna declared. “Leave now! You have outstayed your welcome!”
The guards grabbed him once more and threw him into the street. He dropped the petition onto the floor, perhaps as one final act of defiance.
“Please leave,” Snowdrop said softly before Luna could say anything. “I want to be alone.”
“Mom, I don’t like her.”
“She has always been your classmate,” Snowdrop said. “You should get over your old hostilities. You know, Cumulonimbus and I were not always friends.”
“There’s something evil about her,” Wintergreen said.
“That is uncalled for.”
“It isn’t!” He snapped. “The way she talks to you, and about you… her tone! Your ears are the best in Cloudsdale! How can you not hear that?”
“I hear it,” Snowdrop said. “Wintergreen, Firefly is young, just like you. I know you feel like you’re all grown up, but the truth is you’re still learning.
“Think of this from Firefly’s perspective. She will be the matriarch of her line one day, and I think she has her eyes on the Cloudsdale Reserve.”
“That little prick doesn’t deserve it!” Wintergreen interrupted, jumping up from his cloud. “There are many ponies who are better than her in every way! I’m better than her! And don’t get me started on those big ugly wings of hers!”
“I’ll excuse you for now.” Snowdrop sighed. “Wintergreen, Firefly is not as bad as you think she is. I teach many children from the Noble Families. They don’t think much of me, and they don’t take my lessons seriously. Of course Firefly does not respect me. But she tries hard to learn what I have to teach. Don’t misunderstand me. My best students are the ones like you, and you are the best of the best.”
“Mom, you don’t have to put up with her,” he said. “She’s your student. She owes you respect!”
“I never cared about respect,” Snowdrop replied. “Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older. It’s so much easier to be lenient with some ponies. I don’t care about their upbringing, or what they become. I simply do what I’m told and collect my pay. I’m not their mother. Let them think whatever they want to think. That’s not my problem.”
Wintergreen was still dissatisfied ten minutes later when he went to bed. His tail scooped out a piece of the railing as he went upstairs.
It was nearing midnight. Snowdrop commanded the cloud to part beneath her, and slid all the way through the floor and out of the house.
There were some things she would never teach except to her own children. Perhaps her bloodline was nothing special, but at least it would have something to set it apart from all the others. Wintergreen should have noticed something unusual about his most recent lessons, but he could not know the true extent of his power until he needed it.
Snowdrop pulled wisps of vapor out of the air, letting them swirl around her like a gigantic skirt.
It’s so easy. Why can’t everypony do this?
That question had been on her mind for years. She could manipulate all of Cloudsdale without raising a hoof. She could even add wind to the sails without exerting her wings.
She opened a corridor beneath an empty street and emerged in front of her house. Without much effort she had flown one lap beneath the city wall. Her vapor gown slithered away, becoming parts of houses and streets and fences. And she knew that she could call upon those exact same vapors for days before they became truly indistinguishable amongst the clouds.
The wedding was held in the heat of summer. While slightly-withered crops baked under a merciless sun, Cloudsdale was just comfortably warm.
Snowdrop wore a new dress. It was several shades of “blue” and made of thin silk. Many of the mares wore similar outfits. The new mayor in full dress uniform was the exception. She was a skittish young mare from one Family or another, and even Snowdrop thought that she would not last half as long as Fairweather. Candidates had been few; it was obvious that the Noble Families had been counting on either Snowdrop or Alpine Breeze.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“I wouldn’t know, Cumulonimbus.”
“Don’t be like that, dear,” the other mare said, leaning her neck against Snowdrop. “She’s a fine pony, isn’t she?”
Cumulonimbus was right. Summer Rain had a musical voice to go with her looks, and keen mind and sharp wit. Snowdrop would have loved her as a friend and a student.
But as a daughter-in-law, she was worrisome.
The problem started and ended in her blood. Wintergreen had little to offer in that respect, but at least he was as pure a pegasus as a stallion from the oldest Noble Families. Purer than some, in fact. And Summer Rain was more than half unicorn.
“You know she can’t live here,” Snowdrop had said more than once. He was always livid when he heard it.
“Who says I want her to live here? Who says I want to live here?”
“Where would you rather go?” Snowdrop asked. “Where do you have to go? All your relations are here, and Summer Rain’s family won’t have her back.”
Snowdrop did her best to smile when she sensed her eldest son looking at her. But he knew her thoughts. At least his little sisters were having a good time. Sunray played her harp, and Woodbine hovered above the long central isle with her basket of fragrant petals.
All troubling thoughts left Wintergreen’s mind when he saw the bride. On her head was a delicate wreath of flowers bound together with silver and gold wire. The collar of her gown was made of swastika-patterned silk all too familiar to Snowdrop. In fact it was Jenny’s work, though even the tailor could not comprehend why a young and attractive mare would wear a pattern from one generation ago. The rest of the gown was high fashion, and nopony ever called the ensemble unattractive. Perhaps Snowdrop was the only one to find the collar perplexing.
“Wintergreen, son of Snowdrop and Sunshower, do you accept Summer Rain of Canterlot as your lawfully-wedded wife?”
Snowdrop stayed in her mother’s house for the night. Nopony knew it. The house was supposed to sit vacant for a year before anything could be done with it.
She sat on her childhood bed. It had been lengthened several times in her teenage years. In the end, Snowdrop had grown to be a little taller than her mother, and a little leaner.
She tried not to think about what her son was doing. Sunshower had taken the girls to his brother’s place. For a month Wintergreen and Summer Rain had the old house to themselves while they built another. It would stand on Cloudsdale’s uppermost level, not that they would be able to use it all that often. With two unicorns in the last generation, Snowdrop had no doubt in her mind that her son would have to leave the city of his birth.
”Snow fell in blocks from the sky. There had never been a storm like that before, and there has not been one since. They couldn’t fly at all, so he ordered his platoon to land. They were all pure-blooded Children of Cloudsdale.”
“And I got the news almost a year later. You were five months old.”