Rainbow Typhoon

by Nonsanity

Rating: everyone
Tags: Spitfire, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Rainbow Dash, Adventure, Wonderbolts
Length: 31495

Threatened by a massive hurricane, Manehatten prepares for the oncoming storm and Dash learns what it truly means to do your very best.

As an unstoppable hurricane bears down on Manehatten, Rainbow Dash has to face the unpleasant truth that not all of life's obstacles can be overcome. Sometimes you just have to do your best to get by. And when Dash gets the opportunity to become a Wonderbolt for a day, doing her best takes on a whole new, unexpected, meaning.

Editing provided by: Spabble
If you like this, try: Words Failed Her

Published 2012-04-23 23:14:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-30 08:52:14 UTC

Chapter 1 - Falling In

CHAPTER 1

Falling In

Diving, wings stowed and eyes closed, the brush of warm summer air ruffling her feathers as her speed steadily increased, Rainbow Dash dropped from the sky.

Plenty of time.

Her ears twitched to the sweet sound of rushing wind, its changing pitch and volume as clear to her as any compass or map. Every hair of her tail and mane, trailing behind her and whipping about in the vortex of her passage, sent its own little wind report and spoke to her of speed and angle. Her calm, regular breathing brought scents of sky and ground, the smell of fresh leaves and sweet, ripening apples growing stronger by the second.

Almost there.

Her senses merged to tell her, without calculation or conscious thought, exactly how far she was from the ground and how much longer she could fall. She didn't need to count. She didn't need to see. She knew this sky.

She began to feel the heart-pounding rush of instinct versus will, the innate desire to stop her fall before she crashed to the ground, struggling against the combined product of her senses and skill that told her she still had time.

Just a little farther.

As that life-or-death conflict built within her, wing muscles twitching in their desperate desire to save her from certain destruction, talent and experience whispered seductively to her, "No, not yet."

She lived for these moments, flavored with the spicy sweetness that lines the edge of the impossible, hot danger mixed with cool confidence. She wished this moment could last forever, but she knew it would be only fleeting.

This is what sky is for.

Even as her pegasus nature screamed at her to fling her wings wide, she squeezed out every last moment of that exhilarating betrayal of her instincts. She let her wings open only slowly, casually, as if she had all the time in the world. As they reached their full extension, still loose and ineffectual, she was ready.

Now!

Her muscles tightened. Her feathers bit the air. The rushing wind solidified beneath her curving wings and her stomach lunged downward. Her tail was nearly yanked from her as it belatedly chased her abrupt change of direction. Every hair and feather clamored for her attention as the stress of her maneuver built—then tapered off.

She heard a crisp rustling sound and opened her eyes.

A blurred ocean of bright green leaves flashed past, just beneath her hooves, shaking in the wake of her passage as she zoomed over the top of the rolling orchard.

The moment lingered as she absorbed just how close she had come to the trees this time—closer than ever before—and then she rocketed up into the sky. Looping and twirling, she laughed in the joy of her accomplishment.

"I did it!"

Every inch of her coat vibrated with the memory of her fall, her speed, the rush. Dash whooped and hollered as ground and sky chased each other over her head though barrel roll after barrel roll.

After she had thrown all of her excited energy into her aerial acrobatics, the immediacy of Dash's joy began to fade into a deep satisfaction, and she slowed down. She started to lose altitude in an easy glide over the rooftops of Ponyville, headed for the center of town and still grinning at her accomplishment.

Wait until the others hear about this!

———

Dash slowly glided down between the colorful stalls that surrounded the town's main square, each selling a variety of flowers, fruits, or vegetables to the bustling shoppers. Her transition from air to land was smooth and effortless as her hooves touched the ground for the first time that day.

She scuffed at the dirt with a hoof, a small frown on her face. After the exhilarating morning she'd had, Dash wouldn't have cared if she never set her hooves on the ground again. It was flat and hard and covered with things just waiting to be crashed into. Comparing that to the vast, empty sky with its soft clouds and unending room to soar and glide, there was simply no reason to evercome down.

Well, one reason—my friends. She sniffed the air. Okay, and lunch.

Dash circled the market, the delicious smells of fragrant blossoms and fresh produce filling her nose. She began to wonder where all her friends might be today. Applejack's stall isn't here. Guess she's working at the farm. Rarity's probably working too. Maybe Twilight's out shopping—she's always running out of ink and paper.

Dash glanced up at the clock tower. Wow. It's later than I thought. No wonder I'm—Her stomach joined her thoughts with a hungry growl. She sighed. I guess I'd better get something to eat first.

With a final glance around the square, Dash turned to depart.

"Hi!"

"Gah!" shouted Dash, leaping into the air away from Pinkie Pie, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere right in front of her. "Pinkie! Don't do that."

"Oh, I just wanted to say that it looked like you were looking for something so I thought I'd see if you wanted somepony to look with you because I'm a really good looker and looking with a friend is always better than looking alone." Pinkie gasped in a big breath.

Dash dropped back to the ground with a puzzled expression on her face. "Was... there a question in there, somewhere?"

"Of course, silly!" said Pinkie, leaning in close to Dash and lowering her voice to a hoarse almost-whisper. "Want me to help you look for it?"

Dash blinked and said flatly, "Look for what?"

"Why, whatever it is you're looking for, of course!" Pinkie replied, bouncing up and down.

Laughing, Dash said, "I'm just looking for some lunch. You wanna get some with me? I've got something reallycool to tell you about!"

Pinkie perked up. "Ooh, lunch and a story? That sounds great! I know just the place, too," she said as she spun around and bounced away—followed a moment later by a grinning Dash.

Pinkie Pie's energetic and rather vertical gait gave her a head start, so Dash took to the air and flew after her friend. When she caught up, she found a conversation had started without her.

"... and some tea, though not the lemon kind, the other one, and all these little cakes. So cute and tasty, I just wanted to eat them all up." Here Pinkie stopped short to lick her lips, eyes slightly glazed at the memory of the delicious sweets.

Dash interrupted before Pinkie could continue. "How about this place? I don't think I've ever eaten here." She waved a hoof at the small, rose-covered outdoor cafe they had paused next to, just beyond the main square. Its dozen-or-so low tables were surrounded by pillows and decorated with flowery pink tablecloths set with more fresh roses in vases. Not really my style, thought Dash, but she was too excited to tell somepony about her awesome stunt to traipse around Ponyville all day.

"Okay!" said Pinkie, and she hopped over to the nearest table and plopped down onto a pillow. "You know, I'm surprised you're having lunch with me."

Dash drew back, surprised. "What do you mean? I like eating with my friends." True, I don't do it that often.

"Oh, it's not that. I just thought you would have been off to see them, like everypony else," said Pinkie, picking up the menu and burying her nose in it.

"Huh?" asked Dash, settling onto the pillow across from her friend.

"I mean, you of all ponies I'd expect to be there when they arrived," came the further comment from around the menu.

"Where? Who?"

Pinkie Pie's head emerged from behind the list of appetizers. "Why, at the train station to see the Wonderbolts, of course."

Dash leapt into the air in surprise, startling the lustrously maned waiter that was approaching their table balancing a tray with two glasses of water on his back—which he barely avoided spilling. "The Wonderbolts? Here? Now?"

Pinkie just looked up at the hovering Dash with a quizzical expression. "Well, they were, but—"

"Oh! I, ah..." Dash stammered as she looked in panic at the table, Pinkie Pie, and the agitated waiter carefully setting down the glasses of water. "Um. I gotta give you a raincheck, Pinkie.

"We'll have lunch tomorrow, okay?" Dash shouted over her shoulder as she shot off towards the train station, her back-blast knocking the toupee off the waiter's head.

"Hmm," mused Pinkie Pie, gazing after the rapidly vanishing Dash. "We'll both have this," she said to the waiter, pointing at the menu as he desperately tried to replace his hairpiece.

———

Dash arced up into the clear blue sky over Ponyville, speeding towards the other side of town and the train station. The Wonderbolts, here! I hope they remember me.

She immediately chided herself for her own cynicism. Of course they'll remember me. I saved the lives of three of them, including Captain Spitfire! And it's not like I didn't do well at the Academy. They've got to remember me.

As Dash flew quickly towards the station, nerves jangling, her thoughts slipped into an excited loop. I hope they remember me...

Even as she descended, however, Dash could see that something was wrong. The platform she landed upon was deserted. Worse than that, there wasn't even a train there and—

No Wonderbolts.

She stared down the track, the gusty wind tossing her mane and tail about in a messy rainbow swirl behind her. The platform was silent but for the rustle of the trees on the far side of the empty tracks. Not even a hint of coal smoke lingered in the air.

I missed them.

All the excitement of seeing her idols again drained away from her, causing Dash to shiver in the warm afternoon wind, a small cramp forming in the pit of her stomach. She looked over at the schedule board on the side of the station building. The last train left before I even got back to town, when I was still falling from the sky.

Oh, if only they could have seen that! I'd be a Wonderbolt for sure.

She sighed and kicked at the platform's boards, the missed opportunity leaving an empty hole inside her.

She was startled by hoofsteps behind her. "You okay, Miss?" asked the stationmaster.

"Oh, ah—" She sniffed and tossed back her mane, forcing a cocky smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She straightened up, chest out. Gotta stay cool.

"Oh, okay. You seemed distressed," he said, looking at her closely.

"Me? No! I'm cool. Just... hangin' out. Yeah." She shifted to a slightly more casual pose to reinforce her words.

"Ah. At the train station?" The stationmaster raised an eyebrow.

Dash hesitated, casting about for inspiration. She saw the station's clock and quickly said, "Oh, hey! Look at the time. I've got to meet a friend for lunch. Nice talkin' with ya!" She leapt into the sky before he could say anything more. "Later!"

Once airborne, she let out a whoosh of breath. I wonder if Pinkie's still there.

———

It's amazing how everything can seem okay after a good meal, thought a pleasantly full Dash as she leisurely swung through the sky, breaking small puffs of cloud into ragged tatters that drifted apart and faded away.

She had returned to the cafe to find Pinkie Pie still there and two plates of what turned out to be absolutely delicious food just arriving at the table. Perfect Pinkie timing.

Happy to be flying again, Dash began looping and curving lazily through the sky—but not without pattern or reason. Much as a pony walking home might start to whistle a familiar tune to herself, so Dash began to unconsciously fly through the paces of the Wonderbolts' aerial routines, which were far more familiar to her than any song.

Soon the thrill of the daring maneuvers built up inside her, and she started to put more effort into flying the moves at full speed and getting them all just right. What started as a simple flight home turned into a full flying workout. Sweat beaded on her brow and flanks, only to be blown briskly away by the wind. She was soon deep in some of the hardest and most elaborate stunts the Wonderbolts ever did during their shows—and she was loving every second of it.

As she was in the middle of a reverse corkscrew maneuver, something unusual caught her eye. She was flying upside down when she spotted two figures sitting on a hump of cloud just outside her front door, watching her. The oddity of that was enough to shake her from the pattern she was flying, but it was the next realization that sent her hurtling out-of-control through her bedroom window.

Bouncing off the bed, she hopped one-legged across the room, trying to disentangle herself from the blanket, then half fell, half flew down the stairs. She ran up and along the living room wall as she zoomed around the corner, barreling towards the front of the house, accidentally sliding on the hall carpet the rest of the way.

The two figures rose and approached the house. They jumped slightly as a massive thud rocked the still-closed door. A moment later, it opened, and a sweaty and disheveled Dash panted before them, wide-eyed.

"Hello there, Rainbow Dash," said an amused Spitfire, Soarin grinning by her side. "We've got a bit of a proposition for you."

———

She had no choice but to invite them in. They'd been sitting outside her house for over an hour, waiting for her to come home! Oh, the embarrassment. The house was a mess, she was a mess, and her attempt to rapidly clean a path through to the living room was quickly stopped by the kind but forceful pair—who firmly placed her on her couch.

So Dash found herself sitting on her couch in her living room in her house across from Spitfire—captain of the Wonderbolts—while ace flyer Soarin was puttering about in her kitchen making them some tea.

It can't be real!

A tinkling crash from the kitchen was quickly followed by "Ah. Um... I'll pay for that!"

Maybe it can be.

Spitfire chuckled. "Don't worry. Soarin usually restricts himself to breaking only one priceless antique a day."

Inside, Dash was quivering with excitement. Outside, she could only sit up, stiff and straight, with a tight, nervous smile on her face that threatened to split her head in two.

"Um," began Dash, unsure how all these butterflies could fit into her stomach, "he can break as much as he likes."

Soarin returned, shakily balancing a tea tray on his back, to the sound of Spitfire's laughter. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Oh, nothing," said Spitfire, winking at Dash. "Just some girl bonding."

Bonding! squealed Dash inside her head. With Spitfire!

As Soarin struggled to transfer the teacups to the table, Spitfire jumped up. "Here, let me get that," she said, grabbing the teapot before it could fall off the swiftly tilting tray.

"I don't know how waiters can do this so easily. It's hard!" said Soarin, flexing his back and feeling the empty tray wobble precariously.

"You could stabilize it with your wings," suggested Dash, who then cringed inside for offering serving tips to a Wonderbolt.

"Ha!" Spitfire laughed again as she poured. "Not here ten minutes and she's already coming up with good suggestions. Just like she did at the Academy."

"Told you she has what it takes," said Soarin, craning his neck around to watch the tray as he supported it with his half-open wings. "Hey. This works!"

Spitfire tilted her head and gave him a wry grin. "Going to give up your day job?"

Soarin snorted. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Captain—as much as I know you'd love to," he replied, waggling his eyebrows at Spitfire. Then he set the tray aside and took the fluffy cloud cushion next to hers.

Both Wonderbolts turned to look at Dash.

A small, nervous giggle threatened to escape Dash's lips. She forced her mouth into a tighter smile.

Dash was suddenly very sure she would always remember this moment, the image of it burned into her memory forever. Spitfire and Soarin, each sitting on a little cloud pillow, both looking at her, smiling, with only the steam from the tea between them and her.

Dash blinked herself back to the here-and-now as Spitfire began talking.

"I should tell you why we're here, but first, let me fill you in on recent events. We have only one more stop in our tour this year—the day after tomorrow in Manehatten. However, we've run into a bit of a problem." She glanced at Soarin then, but he was focused solely on Dash with an odd smile on his face.

Spitfire picked up her teacup. Dash, feeling some need to stay as connected to her guests as possible, did the same.

After taking a sip, Spitfire continued, "You see, yesterday at Haytona Beach, we had... a bit of an accident."

"Well, Silver Lining had the accident, to be precise," interrupted Soarin, still staring intently at Dash as if he were expecting some reaction from her. "Flew smack into a slalom pole. He was blown off course by a sudden gale from a ocean storm. Broke a wing."

"Yes. And he's not the only one that's grounded—two others have ponypox." Spitfire shook her head ruefully. "Two backups have always been enough to cover any problems or illnesses, and when there aren't any members out of action they give everypony a chance to take a break from the routine. But this latest setback leaves us one short for our last show."

Soarin leaned in a little closer. Dash felt like a bug under a microscope. She scrunched up a bit beneath his intent gaze and took a sip of her tea—then stared at the cup incredulously. When did I get a tea set, anyway?

Spitfire continued, "So we'd like you to fill in and join the Wonderbolts for our last show."

Soarin deftly reached out and caught the teacup as it fell. "Can't break another one, now, can we?" he said, grinning widely.

———

Chapter 2 - Falling Out

CHAPTER 2

Falling Out

"Congratulations, sugarcube! That's great news!"

"Great news? No, it's completely and totally awesome news, AJ! I'm a Wonderbolt!"

All of Dash's friends had gathered in the library to hear her big announcement. Pinkie Pie had even managed to produce some snacks and balloons—to make the news "even more awesomer!" However, as the initial excitement died down, Twilight Sparkle asked a question in a more sobering tone. "But it's temporary? Just for one show?"

"Well," said Dash, biting her lip for a moment before her grin burst forth once more, "yeah. But that's cool. I'll be performing in front of thousands! The Manehatten air show is the biggest in Equestria. If there's one show to do, that's the one! I mean—" Dash leapt into the air and spun head over heels in a double backflip. "I'll be a Wonderbolt!"

They all cheered and clapped—even Fluttershy raised her voice loud enough to be heard. Applejack threw her hat in the air, and Pinkie let loose with confetti and streamers.

The celebration was interrupted by the sudden, distant blare of a train whistle.

Dash swooped to the window and peered out. "That's the Wonderbolts' train. Spitfire and Soarin flew back to meet it after coming to visit me on the express. It's only stopping here on its way to Manehatten to pick me up."

"Then I guess we better say our goodbyes, then," said Applejack, pressing her hat back onto her head and giving Dash a squeeze. Soon they were all surrounding Dash in a tangled group hug, laughing.

"I hope you didn't forget to pack anything," said Rarity. "I always manage to leave something behind."

"Pack?" Dash rocketed up into the air in alarm. "Oh no! I forgot to pack!"

"But the train's already here," said Twilight. "You'll miss it."

"I gotta go!" yelled Dash, and she shot out the library's window.

"Surprise going-away party at the train station!" cheered Pinkie Pie.

———

That was my most awesome entrance ever!

Dash was a little late, but otherwise she couldn't have planned it any better if she had tried.

The train had already begun to make its way out of the station when she had swooped in, flying fast with her bag in tow. She had buzzed the platform, scattering colorful debris in all directions with the speed of her passage. Quickly popping her wings wide, she had instantly matched speed with the train next to an open boxcar door and then executed a swift double barrel roll into it. She had landed in a perfect four-hoof plant, poised and cool with her head held high. Her momentum had slid her to a stop in the middle of the car—right in front of Spitfire, Soarin, and several of the Wonderbolts' ground crew!

Into the stunned silence she had tossed a calm and casual "Hey."

Too. Cool.

That was an entrance suitable for the newest Wonderbolt, if she did say so herself. She would have to practice that slide trick. It had been accidental this time—she had slightly misjudged her speed—but the results were amazing. She might even make it one of her signature moves! I wonder if I could arrange something with the conductor to leave a boxcar door open whenever he goes past Ponyville—

"You're late, Rainbow Dash!" snapped Spitfire. Dash's grin evaporated.

The Wonderbolts' captain left the group and barreled down upon her, volume increasing. "We are not late in this outfit. You think we can be late in the team slalom maneuvers? You're late there, and you're worse off than Silver Lining is!" she shouted in Dash's face, nose-to-nose, eyes fierce.

With a jolt, Dash suddenly realized she had no more ground to give. Her rear was now pressed up against the door to the next car. All of her pride crumpled into a tight little ball inside her chest under the furious wrath of her idol.

But Spitfire still wasn't through. "Worse, you won't be alone in your injuries. You'll be jeopardizing everypony else on the team! If you aren't where the team needs you when the team needs you, you aren't on the team. Wonderbolts are not late!"

And with that final, mane-ruffling exclamation, Spitfire sidestepped Dash and stormed through the boxcar's connecting door, slamming it behind her.

Dash's body was trembling, and the sudden and dramatic reversal from high to low had brought her to the edge of tears. She tried to blink them away and saw the others watching her through the blur. She couldn't stop the shaking.

How could I have screwed up so badly, so fast?

She marshaled her nerves and got her legs and face under control, but her lungs and stomach still wouldn't settle. She couldn't believe how rattled this had made her—how horrible she felt.

I'll never be late on Wonderbolt business again!

As she struggled to pull herself together, the ground crew ponies slipped out quietly by the other door so that only Soarin was left in the boxcar with her. He came over to her, a worried expression on his face. "Hey there. It's not all your fault. She just got some particularly bad news by telegraph right before your rather... spectacular entrance." He chuckled.

Trying to make a snuffle sound cool, Dash puffed herself up a bit, cleared her throat, and forced a shaky smile before asking, "What news?"

He frowned. "Well, it seems the Wonderbolts have been accused of arriving late to a performance—but we were there at the agreed-upon time. It's gotta be some sort of communications mix up." He grimaced. "She was already yelling before you came in. She won't let a trumped-up slight against the Wonderbolts stand."

Soarin shook his head and grinned. "It was just bad timing on your part. Really bad timing." Chuckling, he leaned in close and said confidentially, "She usually waits a whole day before yelling at a new recruit. She must really like you!" He gave Dash a playful nudge with his elbow.

The corner of Dash's mouth turned up, but only the corner. "What a way to start my time as a Wonderbolt." She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Hey, it puts you in good company, if I do say so myself." He winked at her. "Oh, the number of times I've been chewed out!" He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head ruefully.

"You have to remember that Spitfire... well—" He screwed his mouth up to one side. "She has a sharp, hot temper, like her name implies, gone as suddenly as it appears and often followed by an apology if she goes too far. She doesn't mean to be mean. She's really as sweet as a kitten, except for a moment here and there where she's both spit and fire." He chuckled. "Perhaps too much spit." He fastidiously brushed away an imaginary fleck of spittle from her cheek.

In spite of herself, Dash smiled, pushing his hoof away.

Straightening up, Soarin continued, "She makes up for those moments in spades, though, believe me! There's never been a nicer Captain, or so the old codgers tell me." He leaned in close and whispered, "They think she's not hard enough on us."

He leaned on an invisible cane, hobbled around in a circle holding his back, and adopted a quivering, old-pony voice. "A capt'n apologizin'! Soft! We wouldn'a had that in my day, no-sir-ee!" He shook the imaginary cane in Dash's face.

Dash laughed. Then she took in a deep breath and let it all out in one shaky go. Her chest still seemed to be vibrating. It was a different sort of post-adrenaline shakiness than she was used to, and not as pleasant. She did her best to ignore it. "Eh, it's nothing. I can take it." She gave Soarin a cocky grin.

Soarin perked up and grinned back. "Then all is well! I can show you to your cabin if you'd like. You're lucky—you don't have to share." He started towards the other door. "Just follow me."

Buck up, Rainbow Dash. It can only get better from here on, right? She tried to smile again and found that she didn't have to force it anymore. She trotted after Soarin.

———

Her cabin wasn't large, but then she hadn't brought much with her. She'd only packed a few personal effects and a dress that Rarity had made for her—in case she had to attend any formal functions before or after the show.

Of course, once she had a Wonderbolt uniform on, it was going to be very, very hard to get herself out of it before she absolutely had to.

Dash was just finishing putting her things away when there was a knock at the door. She reached across the tiny cabin and slid the panel open. It was Spitfire.

"I wanted to apologize personally, Rainbow Dash—though I hear Soarin tried to do that for me." Spitfire smiled as she walked into the room—a warm smile, or so Dash hoped.

Dash backed up to make room for her and then didn't make further eye contact, instead turning to look at the last of her bags, still open on the bunk. "It's okay, Captain. I should have been on time. I will be from now on, I promise."

Spitfire put her hoof on Dash's shoulder and held it there until Dash turned to look at her.

"No. I need to apologize." She frowned. "That was a horrible welcome, and I feel terrible about it. I shouldn't have let my anger about something else spill all over you."

Dash quickly took advantage of the change of subject. "Soarin told me about that. They can't call the Wonderbolts liars!"

Spitfire patted Dash's shoulder before turning away to sit on the only seat in the cabin. Dash noted the tired lines on the captain's face and felt her own ire growing. This complaint is really bothering her. It's not right.

Spitfire rubbed her temples and said, "We'll work it out. The planning team think there was a misprint on one of the contracts—a previous version that somehow got mixed in. We won't know till we can get back there and compare sometime after the Manehatten show." She stood back up and shook it off, smiling again.

She glanced at Dash's furrowed brow and said seriously, "Don't let it get to you, Dash. The Wonderbolts stand by their word, and if we are at fault, we make amends. We don't fight when we're in the wrong."

"But if they're lying—"

"Then we'll find that out when we compare contracts. It's not something to get angry over." She laughed. "Something you and I should both know by now is counterproductive."

Dash blinked, taking that in, then laughed right along with Spitfire.

"When you're done unpacking, come up to the next car, the diner, and meet some of your new teammates." Spitfire opened the cabin door, but paused before exiting. "Oh, and Dash... Don't be late again." There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it, but there was a hardness too.

Dash stared wide-eyed at the door after it closed and let out a long, shaky breath.

———

Spitfire wasn't in the dining car when Dash arrived, but three other Wonderbolts were, including Soarin. All of them had changed out of their flight uniforms.

It's odd how they look so much more like regular ponies without the uniforms. Normal. It was vaguely unsettling, but Dash composed herself and smiled as they noticed her arrival.

Blaze set down her cup and approached Dash. "Now that we're not running around like crazy, let me be the first to say: Welcome to the Wonderbolts!"

"Hey! I wanted to be first," whined Soarin as Blaze gave Dash a big hug.

"Didn't you have a nice long conversation with her just after she arrived?" asked Blaze, not quite finished squeezing the breath out of Dash. "Why didn't you welcome her then?"

Soarin rubbed the back of his mane. "Well, we were busy talking about other things. I—"

"Admit it," interrupted Blaze, returning to her cushion and beckoning Dash over with a grin, "you forgot. Some host you are."

"Well, I... I was dazzled by her entrance. That's what it was!" He gave Dash a big theatrical wink.

"Suuuuure." Blaze laughed.

"If her entrance was anythin' like what Soarin described, I can't blame 'im for gettin' distracted," spoke the third Wonderbolt, Lightning Streak. He was leaning back against the side of the car, hooves behind his head. Dash thought he was asleep at first, but now his eyes were open and he was looking her over with a small smile. "Nope. I don't blame 'im one bit."

"Down, Lightning," said Blaze, eyes glaring at him. "Save it for the groupies. Rainbow Dash is one of us now."

Lightning raised his eyebrows in mock alarm. "Now, did I say anythin' untoward? I was merely agreein' with Soarin, here."

Soarin waved his hooves in front of him. "Don't bring me into this."

Looking from Blaze to Soarin and back—and finding no help—Lightning's eyes turned to Dash. "Did I say anythin' to upset you, darlin'? Anythin' at all?"

Dash let a slow, predatory smile spread across her face. "Not until you said 'darlin',' no."

Lightning threw his hooves in the air. "I can't get a break! I try t'be nice. I try t'be courteous. And all I get is trouble." Folding his hooves back behind his head again, he slouched down and harrumphed.

Blaze was about to say something further, but Dash touched her shoulder, laughing. "He's okay, Blaze. If he feels his honor has been hurt, we can always take it out to the track." She gave him a cocky look and a twitch of her eyebrow.

Lightning just stared at her for a moment in surprise. Then, as he opened his mouth to reply, Soarin burst out in whooping guffaws. "She's already... challenged Lightning... to a race... first hour..." Soarin doubled over, pounding at the table with one hoof. Blaze quickly joined him in laughter, and even Lightning started chuckling.

Dash looked from one to another, grinning, still not quite sure if they were laughing with her or at her. When Blaze leaned over and buried her face in Dash's mane, still laughing uncontrollably, Dash couldn't prevent her own laughter from bubbling up.

A sense of camaraderie came over Dash then, a strong attachment to these ponies she'd known of—but not known personally—for so long. I'm really one of them. Really a Wonderbolt!

It was several moments before any of them could speak again. When Blaze got her breath back, she put a hoof around Dash's shoulders and said between leftover chuckles, "Well, I'm glad Spitfire's rant didn't knock the laughter out of you!"

A frown quickly appeared on Dash's face. "You heard about that?" Embarrassment flooded through her, coloring her cheeks.

"Heard about it, darlin'?" Lightning winked at her. "We heard it!"

She looked at Soarin accusingly, but he held up a hoof and shook his head rapidly, still grinning. "I didn't tell them. Honest!"

"It's not his fault, Dash," said Blaze. "We actually heard it. We were in the next car down, and after a while you get really... attuned to her voice. It's one you just have to pay attention to." She leaned in closer and smiled. "And believe me, I know. With her for a big sister, I had to grow up with it!"

"Besides," drawled Lightning, "you remember how it felt when she was chewin' you out?"

Dash thought she was over that, but at his words, the memory of Spitfire's tirade awoke within her. She felt her chest tighten and cheeks flush. She stiffened to prevent the shakes from coming back.

Lighting was watching her and nodded. "I see ya do. Plannin' to be late for practice?"

"Never!" The word forced itself from her, releasing the pressure on her lungs.

"Yup," drawled Lightning, "and that's why she's the captain."

"And which 'why I am the captain' would that be?" asked the captain herself as she entered the car, an older earth pony just behind her.

The three flyers glanced at each other, then Soarin said, "Why, because of your stunning beauty, of course." He pursed his lips and fluttered his eyes.

"Naw," said Lightning. "It was her speed an' skill at flyin'." He weaved his hoof through the air like it was doing aerial maneuvers, making whooshing noises as it turned.

Blaze shook her head, grinning. "You're both wrong." She clasped her hooves over her heart and made soft puppy dog eyes. Breathlessly, she said, "It was because of her crush on Captain Wild Sky back in foal school." She let out a quivering, dramatic sigh.

Spitfire snorted derisively. "You," she said, glaring at Blaze, "are why I don't keep a diary anymore."

She turned to Dash, blatantly ignoring the rest of the team's antics. "Rainbow Dash, meet Quartermane. He's in charge of all our supplies, along with just about everything else in this organization. He'll be setting you up with a uniform, among other things."

"If you need something, I'm the one to see," said Quartermane with a small bow of his head.

A uniform... My uniform. My Wonderbolt uniform! Her heart did backflips in her chest.

"I put her in your capable hooves, Quarter," said Spitfire. "Right now I need to talk with Blaze and Lightning."

"If you'll follow me, Miss?" Quartermane turned towards the dining car's rear door.

"You can call me Dash."

"Dash it shall be, then," he said with a deferential nod of his head. "Let's head back to the supply cars and get you kitted out, hmm?"

Unceremoniously shooed out of his seat by Spitfire, Soarin trotted up. "I'll tag along. Seems I'm not wanted here." He stuck his tongue out over his shoulder at Spitfire's back, only to have the gesture returned by Blaze.

As Spitfire started to turn to see what was going on, Soarin yelped and pushed past the other two, exiting the car first.

My uniform!

Dash was smiling ear-to-ear as she followed Quartermane out the door.

———

"That was quite a send-off your friends did up for you, Miss," Quartermane said as they entered the first supply car. "Dash," he quickly amended. "And on such short notice too."

"Send-off? What do you mean?"

Quartermane carefully latched the door behind them. "Why, the party they set up on the train platform to say goodbye, of course. Your marvelous friend Pinkie Pie let me borrow one of her party cannons. I've got plans to use it in the show. It should be quite a spectacular addition to the grand finale..."

But Dash wasn't listening anymore.

A party for me? At the station? She gasped. Oh no! Those were Pinkie Pie's balloons that I scattered as I was racing to catch the train. They were for me!

And I didn't even notice.

"...with only the confetti and a sufficiently-large compressed air reservoir, I think I can—"

Staring wide-eyed into space, Dash exclaimed, "I didn't say goodbye!"

"What's that, Miss? To whom?" Quartermane raised his eyebrows.

Dash looked at him. "To my friends!" She flopped down dejectedly on a crate. "My best friends. They threw me a going-away party and I didn't even stop to notice. I'm horrible!"

"There, there, Miss Dash. All is not lost." Quartermane gave her a curious smile. "Why say goodbye when you can say hello, hmm?" he suggested with a wink.

Dash sighed and then looked up at him, confused. "Huh?"

"What would you say to sending them—let's see... There were five of them, yes? And the little dragon?—sending them six passes to the show in Manehatten and six train tickets to get there?"

Dash's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Yeah! Then it would be 'hello' instead of 'goodbye.' I get it! You want to know what I'd say? I'd say that would be awesome!"

"You could even throw them a little party yourself. I know just the place in Manehatten that could take care of that for you."

Dash laughed. "That's good, because with Pinkie Pie around, nopony else has much practice throwing parties."

Quartermane chuckled. "So I gathered after watching her party prowess in action. I'll go find the conductor and get word sent off right away. They should be able to catch the next train to Manehatten and get there with plenty of time before the show."

Dash put a hoof on his shoulder. "Thanks so much, Quartermane. You're the best!"

"No, but I always aim to do my best." He gave her another wink and turned to go.

"Wait," she said, giving him a squinty-eyed, suspicious look. "You knew I hadn't noticed their party right from the start. You planned this whole conversation!"

"I'm sure you give me more credit than I'm due," he said demurely. However, she could see the twinkle in his eye and the faintest traces of a smile hiding in the wrinkles of his face.

"Ah-hah!" She aimed an accusing foreleg at him, grinning widely.

Quartermane laughed and gave her a small guilty bow. "I can see I won't be able to fool you easily, Miss Dash. But it is, nonetheless, still a good idea?"

"Absolutely!"

"Then I'll just go see to the arrangements. I'll be back for you in a short while, and we'll see about your uniform," he said as he slipped swiftly out the forward door.

Dash let out a satisfied sigh and stared at the opposite wall of the supply car from her seat on the crate. She could see why he had been picked to work with the Wonderbolts. He was every bit as awesome as they were, just in a different way. She looked forward to meeting all the other ponies that worked behind the scenes, never noticed but—she realized—every bit as important as the flyers themselves. She'd always just focused on the Wonderbolts, but with all the others and their equipment, it was no wonder they needed a whole train of their own.

And now I'm part of it. Her smile faded—suddenly she felt very small and lost in something much bigger than herself. Blaze had mentioned Wild Sky, the previous captain of the Wonderbolts. Dash knew all the previous members by heart, and thinking of herself as one of that long line of amazing ponies—She bit her lip. Am I really good enough?

Lost in thought as she was, she nearly jumped out of her hide when Soarin said, right in her ear, "He is pretty amazing, huh?" She had completely forgotten he was in the supply car too.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, Soarin!" Dash yelled, shoving him away. She shook off the surprise, annoyed. "Look. I could really use some 'me' time, y'know? Could you find somepony else to sneak up on?"

"Oh." He sniffed, his lower lip jutting out. "I understand." He hung his head and slowly started walking past her towards the door. "Nopony ever wants to play with poor Soarin." He paused, swiveling his glistening eyes to look back at her, lower lip a-tremble.

It was so over-the-top and dramatic that she just barely stopped herself from laughing. She relaxed, allowed herself a chuckle instead, and answered belatedly, "Yes, Quartermane is pretty amazing."

Soarin dropped all pretense at forlornness and leapt onto the crate across from her, smiling again. "He's actually been with the Wonderbolts longer than anypony. Spitfire may be the captain, but he's the heart of the operation." He added brightly, "He's my great-uncle!"

His whole family has been part of the Wonderbolts. It runs in his blood.

What runs in mine? The thought was jarring. These ponies are all special. I'm not.

Feeling overwhelmed again, Dash got up from the crate. Frowning at the floor, she started walking towards the rear door of the boxcar.

"What did I say?" asked a confused Soarin, jumping up and following her.

"Nothing. I just—" Dash picked up her pace and passed through the door into the next car. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she didn't want to talk just then. She was questioning her own worthiness, and that was unfamiliar territory. It scared her. She needed time alone.

When Soarin didn't immediately follow her into the next car, she had the brief hope that they could just drop it, that she wouldn't have to put her unthought feelings into words. A moment later, however, the door opened again and he caught up with her, as she suspected he would. Dash slowed down. The way she was feeling, she just had to keep moving, and there was only so much train left.

Soarin was silent for a moment as he walked next to her, then he said quietly, "I was afraid of you back in foal school." At her incredulous snort, he amended, "Not of you exactly, but your skills. After you pulled off a sonic rainboom at so young an age, just as I was about to graduate, I thought my chances of joining the Wonderbolts were all but gone." That made Dash blink.

Soarin glanced at her, somewhat shyly. "I paid close attention to you after that. You were my biggest competition! I really stepped up my game as a result and threw myself into my Academy training. I think that was why I was picked when Summer Zephyr retired."

The idea that Soarin—Soarin the Wonderbolt—had been aware of her in foal school, that he had thought of her as competition, despite being several years older than her, floored her.

Soarin chuckled. "I've kept an eye on you ever since, too."

Dash looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking straight ahead, a simple smile on his face, just taking a walk down a train with a friend. He's so at ease. He was born into this. I'm just a pegasus from Cloudsdale that managed to do a flashy stunt. And now I'm on my way to perform in front of thousands as a Wonderbolt. Thousands.

Rainbow Dash started to shake.

Soarin glanced at her. "Um, did I say something wrong again?"

"No, it's me," Dash said with a forlorn look far more believable than Soarin's earlier fooling around. "I'm not special, I'm 'Rainbow Crash.' You even saw me crash through my window." She felt tears building that she wouldn't let out. Not in front of him.

"I'm just a screw-up." As she said those words, she stopped. They had come to the end of the train, the back of the caboose. She stared out the rear window, a dark cloud filling her mind.

She was vaguely aware of an awkward shuffling next to her, then she felt a wing drape over her back. "You're not a screw-up at all, Rainbow Dash. You're one of the most amazing flyers I've ever seen. Since I've been a Wonderbolt, I've been doing all I can to make you one of us. I would have succeeded when old Gusty retired, too, but—Well, there are even politics in the Wonderbolts."

Yeah, right. She just bowed her head at this. "They didn't want me."

"No, it was... It was just complicated. Nopony else has retired since then, but I promise you this: When that time comes, if they don't take you on—" He was quiet for a heartbeat. "I'll tell them it's you or me!"

Surprise shot through Dash, her head snapping up and around to look at him. Soarin was smiling and his eyes seemed almost as surprised at his own words as she was. She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

He looked back out the window, becoming more serious as he said softly, "There's one thing you can do that will help, though. When Summer retired, she did my initial training. There's something she told me I think you should hear too.

"Don't pull your panic, fear, and doubt into your center and then try to mask them with bravado and bluster. Those feelings are a part of you and shouldn't be denied or ignored, but—be aware of them. Acknowledge your fears and doubts, if only to yourself, so they can't overwhelm you. Keep your center, your core, clear and bright and warm. That way you can plan, innovate, and react without hindrance when the need arises. To have control of anything, you must first have control of your center."

He shifted position next to her, his comforting wing still draped over her back. "When you saw us watching you at your house, you let your panic and surprise into your center, and that threw off your concentration and made you crash."

Dash had always felt that Soarin was a perfect example of what a Wonderbolt should be. Now that feeling had just doubled—and it made her feel all the more unworthy in comparison.

But Soarin wasn't quite done. "You have everything you need already. I know it's all in here..." He touched her forehead with his other wing tip. "... and in here." He covered her heart.

After a moment's pause, she heard him whisper, "I believe in you, Rainbow Dash."

His quiet certainty surged through her, fanning an ember of self-confidence deep within that suddenly began to glow much brighter. That inner warmth didn't fade as the outer warmth did when he closed his wings and stepped away.

"But, ah"—he cleared his throat—"I better get back, or Spitfire will be coming after me again." He turned, whistling as he trotted out the door, leaving her alone in the caboose.

She stared out the rear window at the receding tracks, her center suddenly very bright and warm.

And anything but clear.

———

Chapter 3 - A Cut Above

CHAPTER 3

A Cut Above

"Oh my gosh!"

Never in her entire life had Dash twirled before a mirror in such delight of her reflection—until now.

"I can't believe I'm in my very own Wonderbolt uniform!" Dash squealed and jumped into the air. Her wings opened as she came down, and she caught her breath at the sight of herself in the mirror.

She spread her wings wide and struck a dramatic pose on the tailor's stand, one foreleg out as if she was flying. "Aw, yeah!"

She crossed her forelegs and leaned back, head to one side. "I make this look cool!"

She shifted to all fours, her hooves spread and stable, wings wide and chin up. "Awesome!"

Quartermane laughed at Dash's antics and obvious delight over the uniform. "It suits you perfectly, Miss Dash, if I do say so myself."

"You can! You picked out a perfect fit on the first try," Dash said, looking back at him over her shoulder and grinning.

"Ah, were I that good a tailor. No, it is a very close match for you, but the hind legs are a bit too long. However, that is easily remedied." Quartermane brandished a piece of chalk like a cigar. "If you can hold that pose for a moment, I'll just mark them."

As he bent down to chalk each leg, Dash continued to pose before the mirror. Turning her head, she watched as the light reflected from the smoked glass of her goggles. The feeling of the thin fabric covering most of her face was strange to her, and she made progressively sillier expressions as she experimented with the sensation.

Quartermane smiled at her giggles as he stood up. "All done, Miss Dash. If you'll be so kind as to remove the garment, I'll see to the alterations."

"Already?" Dash whined. She looked in the mirror longingly. "But I just got it on!"

Quartermane chuckled, putting the chalk and measuring tape back in a drawer. "It won't take much time, and then it's all yours forever. Though I'm sure you'll be complaining about how it chafes before long, just like all the others."

Dash turned to him and grinned, wings wrapping about herself possessively. "Never!"

He laughed. "I'm not sure I believe you, but I definitely won't argue the point!"

She bounded in a single wing-assisted leap from the tailor's stand to behind the changing screen and sadly went about removing her uniform.

Dash gazed at it as she slowly carried it over to Quartermane. Up close, the uniform wasn't as glamorous as it seemed from afar. It was assembled from the same hems and seams and such that Rarity was always talking about, just like any other garment, and made of something like silk. The fabric was shiny and slick but coarsely woven. She could almost see through it.

Dash wondered what it would be like if Rarity herself were to redesign it. However, at the thought of replacing this particular uniform with any other, she clutched it tightly to her chest.

Quartermane waited patiently for her to turn it over, his smile at her reluctance spreading out among his wrinkles. When she did, he carefully draped the garment over his back. "You best get to the meeting, now. Your uniform will be ready before we reach Manehatten. I promise."

Ever since Quartermane had begun measuring Dash for her uniform, she hadn't been able to stop grinning. She grinned all through the fitting. She grinned as she left the wardrobe cabin. She grinned as she walked towards the dining car to join the meeting.

I'm a Wonderbolt! If only for one show...

———

"The show is canceled."

The dining car immediately filled with tense conversation. Ponies sat or stood in every available space, Wonderbolts and crew alike, all reacting to the news with surprise, displeasure, or—in one case—delight at winning a bet. Spitfire, standing on a table in the center, waited for them to quiet down before she continued.

"You saw how bad the wind was in Haytona. Well, it's even worse in Manehatten and getting worse by the hour. We can't have a repeat of Silver Lining's accident, even though we found a replacement." Several of the nearby ponies turned to Dash and either hoof-pumped the air or grinned and nodded at her.

The praise and acceptance blew straight through her, however. She felt as thin as paper and as insubstantial as fog. The show—her show, her one chance to be a Wonderbolt here and now, not in some weakly promised future—was gone.

How can it be gone before it's even begun?

Her head was filled with static, a sea of small jagged thoughts that slipped through her grasp. The crowded dining car faded from her awareness. There may have been a discussion going on around her, perhaps some tempered arguments, but she wasn't part of it. She seemed barely a part of herself.

She had just become Wonderbolt Dash, and now Wonderbolt Dash was gone.

I was there. I was—a Wonderbolt. She couldn't even think it now. It was a hole in her mind—a hole that was sucking her in, pulling her into darkness. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

Why is it so hard to breathe?

She was falling into herself, buffeted by soft words and kind hooves as she spiraled downwards.

The darkness engulfed her.

———

Rainbow Dash stretched her forelegs languidly as she sat up in bed, the bright sunlight warming her face through an open window. I must have had a good night's sleep. I feel great.

Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings—a train. I was going somewhere? She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. It's stopped. That must have woken me up.

Dash sat up, stretching her wings as she tried to clear her sleep-muddled head and remember where she had been going.

Spitfire found her moments later frozen in that pose: wide-eyed, tears formed in her eyes but not yet fallen. The events of the previous day had come back to her.

Canceled!

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Spitfire said kindly, putting something down before sitting next to Dash and wrapping a wing around her. "I should have thought what that announcement would mean to you. I wondered why Soarin was so gung-ho to start the meeting before you arrived. Deliberate rudeness is not in him—I should have listened." She gave Dash a comforting squeeze. "Here—"

She picked up what she had been carrying and laid it in Dash's lap. It was Dash's uniform, fresh and folded and a perfect fit for her and her alone. "You should keep this. I think you'll need it in the future."

The future. Something in Dash solidified then, perhaps driven by her stubborn streak—a resolution that the future was hers to craft. She'd make it hers, no matter what. If she wanted to be a Wonderbolt, she'd be a Wonderbolt, and she would do it on her own terms, too.

Dash pushed the uniform back towards Spitfire. "No thanks, Captain. You can give it back to me when I've actually earned it. When I'm really a Wonderbolt. I can wait a bit longer, and I promise I won't be sitting on my wings while I wait. When the time comes, I'll be even better!"

Spitfire gazed at Dash appraisingly for a moment, her expression neutral, then she smiled and nodded slowly. "With that attitude I think your place with us—in the future—is assured." She put her hoof over Dash's. "You're full of surprises, Rainbow Dash. I'm so looking forward to working with you."

With that, Spitfire got up and moved to the cabin door. Dash picked up the uniform. "You forgot this."

"Oh," said Spitfire, looking back over her shoulder with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. "We may not have a show, but you're still one of us until the day is out. And we're needed. The Wonderbolts are going to be helping with the storm preparations. We're more than just a performance team, after all!

"Suit up, Wonderbolt Rainbow Dash. We need you."

———

The Wonderbolts stepped off the train into chaos.

Instead of pulling into the passenger station as Dash had expected, their train had arrived in a huge wooden depot with several other trains. Supplies were being offloaded from boxcars at high speed and shipped out of the building or piled up to be distributed later. Dash thought that there was far too much yelling and confusion.

She could see many boxes of food but also crates marked as medical supplies, construction equipment, and bedding. The mayor of Manehatten was evidently taking no chances. Either that, or the storm was much bigger than Dash had thought.

If only this wasn't such a mess. Dash frowned at the scene, then she chuckled. They sure could use Twilight's help!

The Wonderbolts, including Dash in her new uniform and a few pegasi from the ground crew, left the train station and took wing towards City Hall. There, they would find out how they could help prepare the city for the storm.

Dash didn't know how strong the wind had been in Haytona, but it was pretty bad here—gusty and unpredictable. It made flying, even in a straight line, quite difficult.

As she glided through the wind with the others, she discovered that the uniform changed the experience of flight. Despite its thin material, or maybe because of it, she felt as if she was sliding through melted butter. The urge to let loose and test herself and her uniform against these winds was almost overpowering, but she pushed the desire down and found her place in the formation the group adopted, heading towards their meeting with the mayor.

It wouldn't do to be late, after all.

———

The central, vaulted room at City Hall was full of ponies, some standing in groups with hooffuls of paper and arguing, others huddled around large tables covered with maps and charts. Unicorns moved small marker statues of flying observation teams around the maps while others drew in storm boundary information.

Dash could see the rough sketch of a huge curving line on the map, just off the coast. That's... big.

At an aide's signal, the mayor broke himself away from one particularly noisy group and joined the Wonderbolts in an adjacent office.

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," he said distractedly, levitating some papers onto his desk. He pulled out the chair but didn't sit down. Instead, he began to pace back and forth in front of the desk, tossing his unkempt gray mane out of his eyes.

"We were actually already on our way here, Mayor Faire. If you remember?" said Spitfire.

"Oh, yes-yes. Of course. The big air show." He waved a hoof about vaguely. "Other things on my mind, you see." His horn glowed as he sorted through the piles of papers, extracting a particular sheaf and floating it over to Spitfire. "The emergency team has put together a list of ways you could be of service to us—to the city of Manehatten."

Spitfire looked at the cover and frowned as she read the title. Then she held the papers back out and said, "These are plans for a new gazebo in Bridle Park, Mr. Mayor."

"Oh! Oh, yes. Um—" He again shuffled through the piles on his desk, eventually extracting a different pack. "Here they are."

Spitfire nodded after checking the cover and began flipping through the pages, passing some to the other members of her party. The mayor continued, "If there are any problems with that, there's information there on who to contact—the emergency team, that is. They're located on Baker's Street by the—Oh, what's that building called? This whole mess has gotten me so distracted."

"I know the place you mean," Spitfire said. "This all looks fine. The Wonderbolts will be happy to help Manehatten in this time of crisis."

An older mare, whom Dash vaguely recognized as the mayor's wife, entered and approached her husband. "Laissez, the head of the Fisher's Guild is here," she said in a soft voice.

"Ah, thank you, dear," he replied. He stopped his pacing and turned back to Spitfire, grabbing her hoof and shaking it vigorously. "Thank you again for coming at such short notice. The city of Manehatten is forever in your debt." Then he followed his wife out into the main hall without a backwards glance.

"Ah think somepony is in a bit over his elected head," drawled Lightning Streak, frowning after the mayor.

"Hush, Lightning," reprimanded the captain quietly, looking down at the papers in her hoof. "If these reports are right, there hasn't been a storm like this in all of Equestria's history. If he's in over his head, it's not from being too short, it's for there being far too much water for anypony to tread."

———

Dash was assigned to communications, meaning she had to deliver emergency plans all around Manehatten. She was given first pick of destinations since she wasn't a regular visitor. She chose a few places she knew from previous trips and a few she was fairly certain she could find easily from landmarks.

As she, Lightning Streak, and High Winds flew to the Baker's Street building to pick up copies of the plans, she asked the question that had been playing on her mind all morning. "With such a nasty storm coming, why aren't we out trying to break it up like we do back home? Like with the rogue storms that come out of the Everfree Forest."

"Exactly because it's such a nasty storm, darlin'," said Lightning, banking to the right as he followed the streets below. "Rare too. Hasn't been one like it in centuries. You saw the size of it on the maps?"

"Yeah. But just because it's big doesn't mean we can't break it up. It'll just take longer."

"This isn't just a big storm," said High Winds in a quiet voice. As they turned to follow another street below, Dash found herself impressed by how smooth and steady Windy's flying was, despite the almost random gusts they were flying through. "It's organized."

Dash's incredulous expression was hidden by the uniform, but disbelief colored her voice as she said, "An organized storm? Come on! Pull the other hoof."

"It's true. The entire storm is spinning," High Winds said, adjusting her wing angle rapidly in response to another sudden gust that buffeted them, keeping herself perfectly level. "The whole thing is rotating about its center. That's why the winds are so very strong. Add in the rain, and this hurricane is going to do... a lot of damage," she said, frowning, just as they landed in front of an old stone building.

Dash followed the others up the marble steps, glancing above at the darkening sky as she felt the first drops of rain splatter against her wing feathers.

———

They all got stormproof saddlebags with packets of orders and instructions, and they split up in the street, each headed for their first destination. Dash was worried she wouldn't be able to see through her rain-speckled goggles, but she discovered that they stayed clear when she was flying, swept clean by the wind.

As she flew, she tried to grasp the idea of a storm that big spinning like a top. It seemed unbelievable. Oh, she'd made little clouds spin hundreds of times, and she'd joined water-lifting tornado teams on several occasions. She'd even organized the last one in Ponyville.

So she knew something about spinning, but the thought of all that cloud and rain and wind, miles and miles and miles across, spinning! It was mind-boggling. It was no wonder nothing was being done to stop it. Nothing could be done.

How could you possibly stop something like that?

And yet, as Dash flew on through the steadily increasing rain, making her drop-offs while being tossed about by sudden downdrafts and wind shear, she couldn't help chafing at the thought of just... cowering before a storm. She wasn't Fluttershy, scared at a measly clap of thunder. She was Rainbow Dash!

Rainbow Dash the Wonderbolt! She cracked a self-deprecating grin. If only for today.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind and allowed herself the small luxury of a few barrel rolls and loop-the-loops between stops until the increasing wind made that too difficult. She marveled at how the suit helped her slice through the air and rain more easily than ever before. I may have to get Rarity to make me something like this when I get home—if I can convince her not to add unaerodynamic frills and frou-frou.

The skies were empty of other pegasi. The wind was probably too much for most of them to handle, she thought. As her wings pressed down on the bumpy and turbulent air, she could feel the small and rapid adjustments she unconsciously made to the shape and spread of her feathers. Her talent and skill gave her an edge in this weather, an ability that made her special and gave her a fierce pride that filled her chest and bolstered her spirits.

I can do more than just stunts. I can make a difference.

———

This time, Dash's last stop was the public side of train station, where the telegraph office was. She had a larger package for them, as they would be coordinating with the outlying villages and towns along the rail lines.

The office was its own form of organized chaos, with clerks trotting back and forth between long paper-strewn tables, stacks of documents floating alongside or balanced on their well-practiced backs. Three unicorns operated the telegraph gear and were fed paper messages for transmission, sending the words up and down the lines. The steady tap-t-tap of their keys mixed with the more mechanical clattering of a ticker tape machine recording the incoming messages.

Dash stood there in the middle of the noise and bustle in her crisp new uniform, mane and tail soaked and wind-tousled, dripping rainwater from her wings. She pushed up her goggles and looked around for the stationmaster or chief telegrapher. The flow of busy ponies respectfully parted around her and the puddle she was creating on the floor.

Nopony complained about the mess.

It's the uniform, she thought. Everypony respects the Wonderbolts and all they do for Equestria. She found herself standing a little straighter, feeling a little prouder to be representing them—to almost be one of them.

Dash never would have thought her desire to wear this suit for real could have been any stronger, but now it wasn't just about being the star of a show or commanding respect because of something she was wearing. In that moment, standing there dripping wet and proud, it was all about being a Wonderbolt.

The clothes didn't make a Wonderbolt. The flying didn't even make a Wonderbolt. What made a pony a Wonderbolt was what they did, how they chose to act, how much responsibility they accepted on behalf of their fellow ponies because they had the ability to follow through.

You don't become a Wonderbolt for yourself, you do it for your friends and loved ones!

This sudden realization filled Dash with such resolve and energy she nearly bounced as she closed in on the now-identified stationmaster to deliver her papers.

An energy that was suddenly replaced with icy cold dread when he told her that the very train her friends were on—at her invitation—was on a headlong course towards disaster.

———

Chapter 5 - A Bridge Not Far Enough

CHAPTER 5

A Bridge Not Far Enough

Dash gripped the cold, wet metal of the window frame with all of her strength as the engine shook violently around her. Every pipe, valve, and panel was vibrating to its own rhythm, adding a squeal of grinding metal to the deafening noise of brakes and wheels and storm. The volume of sound was as painful as the battering itself.

Knowing what lay at the end of the bridge, she couldn't help but imagine it: the engine plowing into the solid mass of muddy earth and stone, the cars crashing together and dragging each other off the bridge, the twisted metal plummeting into the cloud-filled gorge below.

The thought of saving herself and flying free from the train didn't even cross her mind. Tears of fear and recrimination flowed from her tightly shut eyes.

If only I had gotten to the train sooner, I could have prevented this. It's all my fault!

A harsh cry of anguish burst from her throat to be drowned in a sea of noise, lost to her own ears but filling her mind and spirit with its force.

Then she was ripped from her hoofhold and thrown viciously against the metalwork at the front of the cab. The train swayed, and the shrieks of tortured metal filled the world.

This is the end.

———

"We've stopped!" shouted the engineer, too loudly.

It felt like half the world was gone. The bone-rattling vibrations had ceased, as had all the mechanical sounds of the train. All that remained were the sounds of the wind and rain and the hiss of water turning to steam on the hot boiler metal. It was as if Dash's head was suddenly filled with cotton.

She groaned, trying to move her body without creating even more pain. The sudden blare of the steam whistle, seemingly right behind her, jarred her eyes open and propelled her forward and away from the source of the sound.

The engineer was again at his controls, venting steam and doing other things she knew nothing about. She looked towards the rear to see the state of the chain of cars behind her, but she could only see the top of the first—which told her nothing except that one was still there.

The engineer joined her at the back of the engine's cab, fresh soot on his face, his brow furrowed. "I think we hit something."

"There was a mudslide at the end of the bridge."

All of his previous timidness gone, he frowned and looked back along the side of the train through the cab's window. His rust-colored mane rippled in the wind like a flickering flame. He seemed more concerned and thoughtful now, glancing between his gauges and the gloom-hidden train behind them. "If we did, I can't back her up till I'm sure every car is still firmly seated on the tracks. If one has come off, trying to back off the bridge would..." He trailed off, and Dash had no desire to ask for further details.

A low-pitched rumble reverberated around them, more through the body of the train and bridge than through the turbulent air. The look of deep worry on the engineer's face propelled her once more into motion.

Dash lowered her goggles. "I'll do the inspection. What do I look for?"

"Make sure every wheel is firmly and completely on the rails. All eight cars, both sides. If all's good, I'll get us off this bridge. I don't like how it's groaning in this wind with the weight of the entire train on it."

Dash nodded and moved to the back of the cab. She tensed to spring up into the howling wind—then leapt.

A solid wall of air punched her as she cleared the cab's roof. Her wings crumpled and she tumbled wildly into the churning clouds below the bridge.

She immediately lost all sense of direction. Her battered brain spun even faster than her out-of-control body. Her rainbow mane and tail tangled wetly about her torso and wings as she plummeted like a colorful stone into the depths of the gorge.

She struggled wildly for a moment, completely disoriented, until some instinct told her to relax. Dash ceased her struggles and felt the wind free her from her entangling hair. Her head cleared as she flung her wings wide to stabilize her tumble through the thick fog.

She was blind in the fog, and she couldn't tell which way was up. However, she was willing to trust her instincts again and assume her current orientation was correct. She thrust at the wet air and began to ascend.

She went up, and up, and up. She burst out of the blinding fog only to be drenched by the horizontal downpour above. She kept climbing until, through a break in the slanting rain, she could see the lights of the train below. Two trains. She could see the lights of the work crew's engine and the longer chain of lights of the train itself.

It did reach the mudslide. It must have lost the last of its momentum to the debris spread across the bridge, bringing it to a violent stop. She could see the tiny figures of the work crew gathered around the end of the bridge, probably calling out to the engineer, their words lost to the wind.

The rest of the train formed a long line of shimmering color though the grayness. She counted the cars before the clouds moved back in and obscured her view. Eight. Good.

Dash aimed herself at the memory of the train's location and pushed herself into the howling winds.

———

In the lee of the train where the wind was somewhat blocked, Dash could better maintain her position against the storm. She made her way down the line, carefully inspecting each wheel as she passed. Above her, she could see movement though the lit windows of the passenger compartments, but she focused on her inspection and didn't let herself get distracted.

All was well until she reached the rear axle of the seventh car.

It's off the tracks.

The same was true for the front axle of the caboose.

She flew around the rear of the caboose, grabbing at its railing as the winds forced her back. Panting, she hung there, until she decided there was no way she could fly along the windward side to inspect the train—and it didn't matter now, anyway. The train was going nowhere.

Glancing at the rear door of the caboose in front of her, Dash briefly considered returning to the engine through the train, but she knew she needed to get the results of her inspection back to the engineer—before he panicked and decided to risk a reverse anyway. Going through the train would mean far more delay than she could spare. She'd see her friends soon enough.

Dash caught her breath, then she let go of the railing and allowed the wind to blow her back to the leeward side. She then raced up the line as fast as she could.

She allowed herself the small indulgence of looking through the windows as she hurtled back towards the engine, but while she could see many indistinct and blurred faces looking out of the rain-streaked glass, she couldn't spot her friends with any certainty.

She landed behind the engineer while he had his head stuck out the window, yelling ineffectually towards the ground crew on the cliff edge ahead. She tapped his flank to get his attention, and he once again banged his head in surprise, this time on the window frame.

"Can't hear you come and go over this wind," said the engineer, rubbing the top of his head with one hoof.

Dash told him of the state of the seventh and eighth cars and saw his face fall from hope to despair as she did.

"We can't stay on this bridge. It's not safe!" he protested.

Dash considered the idea of flying the passengers to the relative safety of the mudslide and the work crew's engine, but she could barely fly herself in this storm, let alone carry somepony else. It was impossible. She'd never felt so helpless in her life.

I can't do this on my own.

That was when inspiration struck her. "My friends! Together we'll be able to think of something!" And without waiting for his reaction, she slipped back out into the wind shadow of the train and made her perilous way towards the first passenger carriage.

———

The anxious fears of the train's passengers made most of them start in alarm when the forward door to their car suddenly burst open, slammed by the wind, blowing in rain and a drenched and wounded Wonderbolt.

After a moment's shocked silence, something happened that was the last thing Dash would have expected.

They cheered.

———

Wonderbolt Rainbow Dash made her way through the excitedly babbling passengers—a sea of strange curious strangers. She looked around for any sign of her friends. She was pelted with worried questions: "What's happening?" "Why have we stopped?" "Are we going to be late to Manehatten?"

Dash tried to answer their questions, without giving them any real information, as she made her way through the car, using her wet wings to gently clear a path. She tried to keep her voice both comforting and serious but had no clear idea how she was actually coming across. This sudden attention and acclaim was more than she could take at the moment.

Inside her head, Dash had a bark of a laugh at herself. She once would have basked in this attention—and would again sometime in the future—but right now it was the last thing she needed. She needed to think. She needed her friends.

The junction between carriages, once Dash had escaped the clamorous passengers, was more treacherous than she expected. The gaps between cars acted as small wind tunnels, intensifying the force of wind and water.

She grabbed the railing tightly. The wind was strong enough to shove her off the train and into the gorge below if she lost her grip.

Each car had a railed metal porch with steps down on either side. A gap in the railing made travel from one car to another a simple matter of jumping over the coupling that held the cars together.

Simple, she thought, when there isn't this wind to deal with.

She kept her wet wings closed tight against her sides to lessen her profile to the wind and kept a tight grip on each hoofhold. The grasping tendrils of air tried to yank her mane and tail out by the roots, whipping them into gyrating rainbow streamers next to her.

The jump over the coupling junction between the two railings was the trickiest part, but she accounted for the wind and slipped only slightly on the wet metal porch upon landing on the second carriage.

Inside, the response was nearly identical to the first—though this time Dash kept the door from slamming open. She received more cheers at the appearance of a Wonderbolt and more questions and pleas for information.

Again Dash answered as best she could while giving no additional reason to worry—or panic. She spoke empty, consoling words that were more to soothe than inform.

It was in the gap between the second and third cars that Dash found the conductor leaning out the leeward side. Clutching the railing to hold himself in place, he waved a metal lantern back and forth. The light's red lens and hood made it very directional, and he turned it as it swung, sending pulses of intense light up towards the engine.

He paused for a bit, peering out into the darkness, then waved his lantern a few more times before turning around.

He started when he turned around and saw her, but he recovered quickly and waved her towards the third car.

Dash made the jump and entered the next car, once more controlling the door and holding it open for the conductor as he followed her in. When she turned around, she went weak at the knees in relief.

She had found her friends.

———

In their excitement to see her, they all spoke at once, a torrent of voices Dash took immense comfort in hearing even if her rain-clogged ears couldn't make out one from another. Relief to be with them flooded through her, draining the last of her strength. She staggered, and the conductor caught her and guided her to a seat.

Fluttershy gasped, "You're hurt!" and rushed to her side.

Seeing Dash's state, Twilight quickly hushed the others, and Applejack asked the first clear and understandable question, full of concern. "What happened to ya, sugarcube?"

What's happened to me? thought the bruised and battered Dash. What's happened to me... There was just no way for her to answer that. Too much. That's what.

Seeing Dash at a loss for words, Twilight asked a better, easier question: "What's happened to the train?"

That one Dash could answer, but before she could do more than open her mouth, the conductor chimed in. "I believe I can answer that for you, now. I spoke with the engineer by lantern. There was a mudslide caused by the rain..." He proceeded to give a clear and factual account of their present situation.

Three cheers for lantern-talk, Dash thought, slightly giddy from relief.

The conductor stopped short of telling them about the off-track wheels and the fact that they couldn't reverse off the bridge, probably to keep them from being alarmed. However, Dash needed their help, so they needed all the facts.

"It's worse than that," Dash said. The conductor looked at her with concern, but she raised a hoof to stop him. "I need their help. They need to know everything." After a pause, he nodded, and she filled in the remaining details.

"... And this bridge may not hold the weight of the train in this wind. We have to get everypony off, and the storm's too strong for me to fly them to safety." She added plaintively, "I don't know what to do."

"I—I can teleport some. But I don't know how many." Twilight turned to the conductor. "How many passengers are there?"

"One hundred sixty-three," he immediately replied, and Twilight blanched at the prospect.

"It'll have to be short range only. Is there somewhere safe nearby?"

The conductor said, "There's a work crew dealing with the mudslide ahead. They've set up some temporary shelter and are working to build a walkway past the engine to the first car."

That was news to Dash. Maybe there's hope yet.

"But that's going to take some time, if it's even possible in all this." The conductor shook his head. "We don't know how long we have."

As if to punctuate his remark, a sudden violent gust rocked the train and they heard and felt the deep, wooden groan of the overstressed bridge. The sound vibrated through their hooves, unnerving Dash with its power and implied threat.

"We've gotta round everypony up and move'em to the front cars. This bridge should be stronger closer to the ends," suggested Applejack, jumping to her hooves. At nods from the others, she headed towards the rear door. "C'mon, Pinkie Pie. Ah'll need you to help keep everypony calm."

"Okey-dokey-lokie!" said the ever-chipper Pinkie, and she bounded after Applejack down the aisle.

"Be careful crossing the gaps between cars—the winds are fierce!" warned Dash. "Did you bring your rope?"

It was, Dash thought, a rather silly question. Hat and rope were every bit a part of Applejack as her cutie mark. "Ah never leave home without it! Don't ya'll worry. I'll get them through—safe and sound!" Applejack said. Then she and Pinkie disappeared into the storm beyond the door.

Twilight also stood up and headed for the other end of the car. "I should get as close as I can to the destination, so I'll start with the passengers up front."

Dash started to get up to follow her, but Rarity and Fluttershy held her down. As tired as she was, that wasn't very hard. "You have to rest," insisted Fluttershy with uncharacteristic forcefulness.

"And let us treat your wounds," added Rarity, tearing her shawl into strips with her magic.

Dash tried to resist, to insist that she had more work to do, that she was needed—but they'd have none of that. She had to admit, when even Fluttershy could hold her down, she was probably not much use to anypony.

Soon the first of Applejack's soggy refugees from the rear cars started clambering in out of the torrent of wind and rain. They were tied together by a length of rope and led by a bouncing Pinkie. "That's it! You're doing fine, everypony. Remember to stay with your Train Buddy!"

Dash felt a surge of immense pride in her friends. She knew they'd know what to do. Together they could do anything.

She didn't notice her eyes were closing, and a moment later, she didn't notice anything at all.

———

The crowds are cheering her name: "Rain-bow-Dash! Rain-bow-Dash!" The Wonderbolts lift her up and carry her around the field on their backs as she waves to the wild onlookers. Golden beams of sunlight shine through her rainbow mane and reflect from the trophy being presented to her for her heroic deeds. Trumpets sound off in a rousing fanfare, but it sounds out of key, sour, screaming... ponies are screaming... the stands start to collapse... the Wonderbolts drop her...

She was thrown from her seat onto the floor of the car as the whole bridge rocked. The cannon sound of mighty timbers splintering filled the air with a deafening crackle. Dash was instantly awake and on her hooves, plowing through the yelling, off-balance passengers towards the back of the carriage.

There she found Pinkie Pie, who was frantically untying the last pony from a rope snaking out the open door. It ran out through the horizontal rain and streaks of rushing cloud, crossing the gap and entering the next car in the line—a car that was now tipping and rocking out of time with the rest of the train.

"Pinkie Pie! Applejack?"

Pinkie's mouth moved, but Dash couldn't hear her over the din of what she now realized was a fast-collapsing bridge. Pinkie then turned to look out the door with more worry etched into her face than Dash had ever seen there before.

Without a second thought, Dash launched herself out the door, making the leap to the other car in a single wing-powered vault. She smashed into the opposite door frame, pushed out of line by the wind. Scrambling for purchase, she swung in through the open door to find a family of five panicked ponies huddled together just inside. They were utterly terrified and clinging desperately to each other or to whatever hoofhold they could find in the swiftly tilting car.

But there was no sign of Applejack.

Dash's gaze followed the rope through the length of the carriage and out the far door.

There she saw the small figure of Applejack—her hat gone, ponytail undone and streaming behind her—standing on the next carriage's porch and frantically bucking loose the coupling that connected the two cars together.

There was a single, frozen moment as time seemed to slow to a crawl, sound and sensation muffled and distant. Their eyes met, and Dash saw an expression on her dear friend's face of such grim inevitability that her heart froze in her chest.

An instant later, Applejack, the rear of the train, and the tons of wooden scaffolding supporting them dropped out of sight as the center of the bridge collapsed.

———

Chapter 6 - Bobbing for Apples

CHAPTER 6

Bobbing for Apples

Terror gripped Dash's heart and lungs, squeezing the very life out of her battered body like no mere injury could ever accomplish. Its chill permeated her flesh, freezing her from within, rooting her to the spot, and turning her muscles to ice. Applejack's last, desperate look burned behind Dash's eyes.

From the huddled family, the youngest filly opened her mouth to scream—

Dash became aware of sluggish motion, already begun: her legs moving of their own accord, bending, lifting, reaching. They slowly started to move her forward without any command or involvement from her. She imagined she could feel every one of her muscles contracting and relaxing, each in its own turn but at a glacial pace. It was a slow-motion ballet of precise movement, without wasted energy or purpose, in which she was a mere spectator.

Terror's claw wrapped tighter around her struggling heart, distorting its shape and stifling its beat.

How can she be gone?

Her eyes still stared out the open door ahead of her, where only raindrops drifted slowly past in the howling gale.

Why was I asleep when they needed me?

The sound of her first hooffall boomed deeply through the thick air.

She can't die.

Tears blurred her vision, the claw's grasp faltered, and her heart gave a mighty, pounding beat.

I won't let her die!

The end of the passenger car exploded as a spinning, sparking streak of pure color erupted from within, plunging into the still-seething clouds below the sheared-off tracks.

—just as the filly's scream escaped her lips.

———

Rain-battered clouds streaked past Dash's plunging form, her goggleless eyes squinting to see through the rushing wet air—which was strangely still in the protective embrace of the gorge.

Has the train hit bottom yet? Would I hear it? How deep is this?

Doubt and confusion consumed her thoughts as she power-dived through the dark mist, wings tight against her sides.

She saw something sinister flit through the fog, a whipping tentacle that was bearing down upon her. Before Dash could dodge it, it was on top of her, wrapping around her torso and trapping her wings.

She struggled wildly—and she was immediately freed. It had no strength, it—

It's a rope!

Realization hit her as she and the rope continued to plunge into the gorge.

Applejack's!

She instantly seized the rope in her teeth and popped her wings wide. The jolt twisted her neck around and down, but she didn't let go. She could feel that there was weight at the other end of the line.

She could only hope it was—

As she painfully struggled to slow her fall, she wound one foreleg in the rope to take some of the weight from her teeth.

Dash had to stifle a mouth-opening gasp when a mighty, crashing explosion from below startled her. A cloud of choking dust billowed up to engulf her, darkening the fog still further.

Still, Dash held fast to her burden, jaws locked, gaining height once more. The rough rope cut into her gums and ripped loose the leg of her uniform. The thick dust clogged her panting nostrils with the smell of smoke and pine.

She slowly backed her way upwards, straining wings above and clenching teeth below. The taut rope vanished into the dark, sound-eating clouds below, hiding the far end from sight.

Dash couldn't judge the weight of what was at the other end through her teeth and leg, having never lifted anything this way before—for good reason.

It hurt.

It hurt her teeth and jaw. It hurt her leg, her neck, her back. Strain cramped her muscles, and each down-thrust of her wings threatened to rip the rope from her tenuous grasp.

If gritting her teeth were possible, Dash would have, because she would not let go.

She couldn't tell if she was making any headway at all until she thought she could feel the edges of the windstorm above the gorge playing with her tail. It was only then that a question came to her mind: What next?

To land Applejack—if it was her at the far end—safely on the ground, they would both have to clear the cliffs that lined the gorge. Dash had no idea how long the rope was or how high she would have to fly to get Applejack above ground level.

Landing her on the train was out of the question. It would be impossible to control the swing of so long a pendulum in those outrageous winds and land it on such a tiny target.

Altitude was her only answer.

Dash hoped that she could hold on. She hoped that Applejack could hold on.

She became aware of a darker patch in the fog next to her. Shifting herself closer, she found a ragged structure of broken-off timbers. The bridge!

Dash realized she must be directly below the remaining end of the train. Without the same winds as above, she'd gone straight down and straight back up. Her sudden desire to reach the train gave her new strength. She accelerated, and the wooden crossbeams flashed past her through the dark fog.

Suddenly, she burst out of the mist, blinded by the train's lights. She threw her free foreleg over her eyes to shield them as she jolted upwards in surprise. She was once more in the storm, and it had grown even stronger—

The wind slammed Dash hard against the side of the train, knocking the breath from her, but not knocking the rope from her grip. The momentum of her rapid ascent slid her up and over the train, rolling her across the roof and tangling her wings in the line. She scrambled for purchase with her free hooves, but the metal canopy was slick and wet. A moment later she was blown off the other side, her wings trapped and immobilized by the rope, falling upside down and out of control.

Eyes wide with panic, Dash twisted and turned, trying to shake herself free from the binding rope so that she could open her wings and stop her fall, but now the rope was too tight, and she couldn't escape its bonds.

She plummeted down past the side of the train, the line of wet rope sliding over the roof of the carriage with a hiss.

Dash was almost in free fall, slowed only by the rope she now dangled upside down from, completely trussed up and helpless to stop her plunge into the gorge. She clenched her eyes shut in terror, blocking out the sight of bridge struts flashing past.

A moment later, Dash felt her descent slowing. With a jolt, the rope went taut, and the back of her head banged against the wood of the bridge. She had come to a stop.

Trapped. Dangling.

Without the speed of her passage to dry her anymore, the dense fog of the gorge began to bead on her mane and lashes, mixing there with her hot tears of grief.

I'm sorry, Applejack. I tried...

"Hey there, sugarcube," said a quiet, tired voice.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" said the voice.

"Not saving you."

The laughter was just as quiet, and rather shaky. "Well, it wasn't the most perfect of rescues, but... a rescue it was," said the voice, seemingly right next to her.

Dash had been rotating as she hung there, and now, opening her eyes, she saw an orange blur through the crisscrossed wooden beams of the bridge. "Applejack?"

Applejack gave an exhausted chuckle, "Eeyup. Let me guess... You tied yerself up?"

Dash giggled in relief. It is Applejack! As she was still trying to absorb the fact that her friend was alive and talking to her, Dash was beaten to the next question.

Applejack asked, "How're we gonna git back up to the train from here? You're too tangled up to move and I can only fly in one direction—down."

Collecting her wits, Dash tried to see the full state of their condition. She had flown up and over the top of the train car, thanks to the wind, and then down the other side, pulling Applejack up as she fell. They had stopped when their weight was equal on both sides, coming to a halt opposite each other.

Dash hadn't been in the best condition when all this began, and now, dangling upside down and immobile made it very hard to think straight. She couldn't see any way out of this.

After a few moments of silence—the eerie, muffled silence deep in the heart of a dense fog—Applejack asked, "Could you carry me up if we were free?"

Dash's old bravado powered her response. "Of course I can," she boasted. Then recent experience led her to second-guess herself. "As... long as we stay below the winds."

"But you could lift me up to the train?"

"I got us here, didn't I?" said the trussed up and dangling Dash.

After the briefest of pauses, laughter flowed from them both—over-loud, nervous laughter, but real nonetheless.

After they got themselves back under control, Applejack said, "Okay then. I'm gonna step onto the supports here and attach the rope to them... and then free myself. Then I can climb through to your side and untie you."

"Sure. Take your time. I'm just... hanging around." They both giggled and snickered once more, their laughter still driven by nerves. Dash was quite sure all of her blood had pooled in her head by now.

Dash could only watch, slightly disoriented by the topsy-turvy scene, as Applejack clambered into the structure of the bridge, wrapping the rope around an intersection of several beams. Then, without letting up on the tension, Applejack worked at the tight knot that had held her in the rope throughout her long fall and longer ascent. Once free, she quickly tied the rope to the bridge.

Then came the dangerous traversal through the bridge's structure to get to Dash's side—without the protection of the rope. Applejack tested each piece of timber before trusting any of her weight to it. Several times she had to change direction as she stepped onto a board or beam that had been shaken loose by the collapse.

It took longer than Dash had expected, but Applejack made it through. Soon she was leaning out of the structure, holding Dash's upside-down head in her hooves and stopping her slow rotation.

"Thanks, sugarcube," she said softly. "I thought I was a goner there for sure."

Dash could only smile shakily in response. She'd grown quite light-headed while watching Applejack work her way through the bridge.

As her friend gently held her head, Dash could only think, Applejack looks really funny standing upside down like that.

Then Dash felt hooves exploring the lay of the rope around her body, the knots and twists that bound her. "Okay. I think I see the way of it," said Applejack. "You'll be all right if I just—free you all in one go? You'll be able to fly?"

"Only one way to find out. Either that or I just... hang around." It was every bit as funny the second time to Dash, in her state of mind. Applejack, on the other hoof, wasn't as amused. Concern for her friend was plain on her face. Even Dash knew that if she couldn't fly when she was released, she would fall to her death.

Dash realized that if that happened, Applejack would likely take the blame onto herself. Dash tried to clear her head and focus—because there wasn't any other choice.

Applejack slowly worked the loose end of the rope free while leaning on one of the angled cross-supports of the bridge—a foreleg reaching around each side, hind legs braced securely in the structure. Dash craned her neck to watch, but she couldn't see much from her angle.

Eventually, Applejack had a length of the rope looped around a free hoof, and she took up the slack. "Git ready..." she warned, and, after a nod from Dash, she heaved backwards on the line. In a body-twirling yank, Dash was spun around and released, immediately plummeting out of sight into the dark fog.

"Dash!" yelled Applejack.

Just a few seconds later, however, the silhouette of Rainbow Dash was back, hovering in front of her in the torn and ripped Wonderbolt's uniform, goggles once more over her eyes.

"Somepony call for a lift?"

Applejack grinned and stretched a hoof out from her perch amid the timbers. Dash swooped in close and scooped her up about the torso, and the two friends flew up out of the dank and shadowy abyss together.

———

First one orange hoof, then another, and Applejack pulled herself up onto the rear porch at the end of what was left of the train. Her loose mane and tail streamed wildly behind her in a blonde river of wet, tangled hair. She slipped inside the carriage and dropped to the floor in exhaustion just as Dash slid in, off-balance from her landing, wings closed at the last moment to fit through the door.

The two exhausted ponies lay there, catching their breath in the relative safety of the swaying, dark, and empty car. The sheared-off bridge had seemed fairly stable down below, but up here with the storm shoving at the broad side of the passenger carriages, the structure swung wildly from side to side in time with the howls of the wind. It groaned back as if in heated, escalating argument with the storm.

Applejack, recovering her breath first, said, "Everypony's out of this car, too. We should cut it loose and get it off the bridge."

"What? Again?" panted the still-breathless Dash. "Didn't you just do that?"

"Well, ah... Ah'll be more careful this time. And I think—I hope—there'll be a lot less collapsin' bridge involved." Applejack, wincing, got slowly to her hooves.

Dash nodded in fervent agreement, clambering back up onto her own unsteady hooves. "Good plan. I like the not-falling-to-our-death bit."

Applejack grinned and tousled Dash's mane as she passed, headed for the front of the carriage and the next coupling. Dash shook her dripping hair back out of her face and got one last deep breath before following Applejack towards the door.

———

Applejack's bucking did the job on the first try this time, and the carriage was disconnected quickly and easily. Dash suddenly recalled a saying from the Wonderbolt Academy: With experience comes speed.

Dash braced herself between the storm-ravaged porches and started to push the disconnected car away, but Applejack stopped her, shaking her head. Unable to communicate in the storm—in fact, quite likely to drown if facing the wrong direction with an open mouth, Dash thought—they clambered in through the door to the next carriage.

The space was packed with ponies, all oddly quiet once the pair had shut the door behind them. Their terror had turned into resigned despair, all hope gone with only useless, oppressive time remaining in its wake. Even the appearance of the sodden strangers had little effect beyond slow, disinterested glances.

The dark despondency clamped down on even Dash and Applejack's spirits as they moved slowly down the aisle, stepping over and around slumped and lethargic forms. The biggest reactions they saw from the huddled masses were fearful glances at windows and roof as thunder rolled over them and gusts shoved particularly hard at the protesting remains of the bridge.

Affected by the mood, Applejack spoke in low, quiet tones to Dash as they made their way forward. "I don't think we could have pushed it off. It would'a just got stuck on the end, or worse, taken some of the bridge with it. But at least it won't drag the train backwards if it falls, now."

Having reached the front of the car without any sign of their friends, Applejack pushed through into the storm once more. Dash looked back at the faces of the ponies she'd tried to save and saw how they didn't bother to protect themselves from the sudden influx of rain and wind. It chilled her to the bone to see them so despondent.

The next carriage was much like the first, but even more crowded. They moved slowly, picking their way through the huddled masses and searching for their friends—or the slightest glimmer of hope in the faces they passed.

They found neither.

They encountered the conductor, however, as he entered the carriage from the front end in a blast of horizontal rain, just as they were reaching for the door themselves.

"Oh! I was told..." His eyes went wide as he recognized them, but then he shook his head, his momentary burst of optimism fading. "Doesn't matter."

"What's been happenin'? How's the rescue going?" asked Applejack.

"What? Rescue?" He looked strangely at them. "Haven't you been listening at all?"

The two shared a glance just as a blinding flash and a roaring, booming clap of thunder shook the carriage. Dash could feel the sound deep in her chest, and several ponies around them screamed in shock and fear. The blast was quickly followed by another, and the sound of the rain battering the roof intensified. The passengers' low voices were thick with fright. It was a panic with no outlet that ate away at them from within.

"No," said Dash forcefully. "No, we haven't been listening. Tell us what's happening!"

"Nothing is happening! There's been another mudslide. The ground crew has had to pull back. There's nothing anypony can do to save us! And it's just a matter of time before what's left of this bridge collapses completely!" His voice increased in volume and caused some nearby passengers to look up with fright and others to bury their heads in their companions' manes.

"Where's Twilight?" demanded Dash.

"Who?" His eyes lost focus and turned upwards towards the pounding sound of rain on metal. What energy he'd briefly possessed had simply drained away now that he had spouted his dire synopsis.

Applejack joined in. "Our unicorn friend. The one that's been helpin' by teleportin' ponies off the train? Where is she?"

"First car. But even that hope is gone now," he said as he collapsed onto a bench next to a turquoise mare with tear-filled eyes. She was twisting a handkerchief in her hooves, head bowed, and didn't even look at him.

The two friends shared a worried glance before hurrying out towards the first car.

———

The storm was truly deadly now, Dash realized, as they stepped out into something beyond any nightmare she'd ever had. More lightning split the sky, irradiating the nearby clifftops in blue-white fire.

She'd been roughed up by this storm so much over the past day, but only now was the storm truly upon her. This wasn't just a bad storm. This was a hurricane, and Dash finally understood what that word implied.

Dash stood for a moment in the full fury of the storm, holding fast as Applejack escaped into the front carriage. She could feel the force of the raindrops hitting her body like little fists, feel the gripping, yanking pull of the wind on her mane and tail, feel the feathers of her wings, so attuned to the winds of speed, agitated like never before by the rushing air.

She realized that she was as scared as she'd ever been.

She staggered after Applejack.

———

Inside the first carriage, they finally found their friends huddled together at the far end. They rushed towards the group, stopping short as they saw Twilight Sparkle, prone and unmoving on the floor.

"Twilight!" yelled Dash, a ragged surge of panic welling up inside her.

"Twi!" Applejack turned to the kneeling Fluttershy. "What happened?"

"She saved so many. She..." Fluttershy faltered, her breath coming in ragged little gasps, tears flowing down her already-streaked face to fall onto Twilight's mane.

Dash felt the claw of fear grip her heart once more.

"She was transporting another family to safety," whispered Rarity. "The three foals first. It was—It was just too much for her. Too many trips. When she came back after taking the mother across, she—She collapsed!"

"She just kept... teleporting again... and again," whimpered Fluttershy between tight little sobs. Spike was kneeling silently next to Twilight's head, tears flowing down his scales.

Dash's eyes were wide with shock. "She's not—"

Rarity looked up through watery eyes. "No. But she's just barely breathing. And we don't know what to do for her." There was such anguish in her voice.

Even Pinkie Pie was quietly crying.

Applejack sat down softly next to the still form of Twilight and rested a hoof gently on her mane, whispering sadly, "Hang in there, sugarcube."

As the full fury of the hurricane battered and rattled their unstable prison, Dash saw all the hope and light drain away from her friends—and all the ponies trapped on the train. She felt the claw of fear and self-recrimination strangle her from the inside, and something within Dash finally broke.

She felt it go. A heat drained away inside her. Her vision narrowed.

Recent memories exploded in her mind: the air show cancellation, the dark flight along the rail lines, the tunnel, the mudslide, her plummet into the gorge, Applejack's fall and rescue—her friends' defeated acceptance of seemingly unavoidable death.

At every step of the way she'd had an enemy at her back, a foe throwing heartache and pain relentlessly against her—an adversary that first tried to crush her and now tried to crush her friends.

"The hurricane."

The rage in her low utterance made her friends turn to look at her with some alarm, but Dash just stared out a rain-streaked window, motionless and tense.

She remembered how High Winds had described a hurricane: organized chaos. Maybe there was a weakness there, maybe not—but to sit here and cower in fear wasn't in her.

It's not the Wonderbolt way. It's not the Rainbow Dash way.

She couldn't leave the train to save herself, but she could leave it to save everypony else—or at least try. As she stared out the window, Dash felt the fear inside her, but she felt hope as well. And that's important, she decided. Hope is most important when there's nothing else left.

Dash turned to look at Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, Applejack, and Spike—and the still form of Twilight Sparkle who had given everything she could to save everypony.

An inner fire reignited. Even if I fail, I can still give them hope.

Dash turned and walked slowly towards the door. And I know I'm doomed to fail.

Applejack saw Dash starting to leave and asked, "Where do you think you're goin'?"

Dash paused with one hoof on the door, the ragged sleeve of her torn uniform dangling. Without looking back, she said, almost too quietly for them to hear over the storm, "I'm going to try and kill a hurricane." Even as she said those words, she trembled inside.

"But," gasped a startled Rarity, "that's... impossible! Isn't it?"

Dash just lowered her head slightly, eyes closed, still frozen at the door, holding back the tremors of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. "Is it? Can you tell me there really isn't any hope left?" A passionate cry burst from her. "Are you sure?"

"I..." Rarity's mouth opened, then closed. She looked at the others for help.

Applejack was watching Dash calmly, however, her gaze clear. "There's always a chance, sugarcube," she said quietly.

Applejack stood up, glancing around at all the anxious, frightened ponies huddled within the rocking carriage, raising her voice over the storm for their ears. "And Ah think, if there's anypony who could stop this, who could save us, it's the newest member of the Wonderbolts." She turned back to Dash. "And my friend."

All the passengers were now intent upon the scene before them. Their quiet, expectant eyes were hungry for any shred of hope—and beneath their needy gazes, a terrified Rainbow Dash was determined to do what she must to give it to them.

A pounding heartbeat later, she was gone.

———

Chapter 7 - How Many Licks

CHAPTER 7

How Many Licks

It was impossible.

It was impossible to fly. It was impossible to fight. There was nothing just one pony could do against such an unstoppable force of nature.

Dash had no hope, but now maybe the others did, and that was—Perhaps not enough, she thought, but it was all she could give them when there were no other options left.

Flying out into the deadly storm was brave, at least. Wasn't it? She wasn't sure what bravery really was anymore.

What would the Wonderbolts do?

Not this, she decided. They would have stopped the train before it got to the bridge. They would have kept everypony out of danger from the start instead of throwing their own lives away in a meaningless attempt at the impossible.

No, not meaningless. I've made them a promise to try, and as thin as it is, that at least is something. Something important.

It was impossible to fly in the storm. This wasn't flight as she'd known it all her life. This was staying aloft, with great difficulty and pain. Her wing muscles, overworked and repeatedly strained to their breaking point, were a fire upon her back. Shooting stabs of pain lashed out from them to torture her exhausted body. The burn on her shoulder, the cuts on her face, the bruises, aches, and pains that riddled her body were as nothing compared to her wings.

Still Dash flew on, tacking like a sailboat against the cold, vicious wind, never flying straight into it. Instead she angled against the wall of air and water, gaining altitude and slipping further into the swirling heart of the storm.

She had decided that that was where she needed to be even before she had left the train, and now her situation made questioning that decision as impossible as everything else.

Dash no longer had energy to spare for thinking. Every ounce of her strength was spent on pure motion—repetitive, strenuous motion, with no ground visible to judge her progress. Rational thought was beyond her. She had only instinct to guide her now, and she slipped, without even knowing it, into a kind of trance.

Twist and pull in wings. Lift up. Extend and flatten. Thrust! Arch body to minimize pain, maximize leverage. Don't overextend—keep the muscles tight. Twist and pull in wings. Lift up. Extend and flatten. Thrust!

Time didn't exist to her anymore. Ground and rain and darkness were unimportant. It was just the wind, her wings, and flight. She had the perfect concentration of no thought at all, and with that came no worry, no fear. Even pain became a discrete thing, separate from her and therefore easier to ignore.

It was as if, in the belly of pain and fear, she had found a tiny, tenuous refuge. She needed only to keep flying, and all else could be ignored.

———

When a piece of airborne debris slammed into her left foreleg, it was the sound that broke into her awareness first. It brought her out of her timeless trance and reawakened her reason.

She thought about the force of the impact, the angle of her leg—the loud crack. She knew what was to come when her body and mind reintegrated, and the protection of her trance was fully lost.

Dash thought she was prepared for the pain, but it rushed at her with such suddenness, such ferocity, and it kept coming, and building, and growing. She cried out, her mouth filling instantly with water. Her eyes went wide behind her rain-streaked goggles.

Then her eyelids drooped, her eyes rolled up, and her wings folded.

Dash was a tiny waterlogged mote dropping through an endless expanse of storm. Her tangled mane drifted gently about her head like her own personal cloud. No rain beat against her, for she was falling with the drops. No wind shoved against her, for she moved along with it. She was a peaceful point of color lost in a bleak gray sky.

Alone and unseen, Dash fell.

———

There was light from above, directionless and gentle. There was also a faint susurration of sound, at the edge of imagination, with no roaring wind assaulting her ears.

Instead of a body she was a bundle of jangling nerves, sizzling and popping, as if every part of her was asleep and just waking up—a haystack's worth of pins and needles.

Compared to before, it was utter delight.

Those few senses were enough for now, Dash felt. That was almost too much to take in at the moment. However, her body refused to obey her wishes, forcing her to smell the pungent sea and taste the tang of salt.

She tried to curl herself up, to hide away from the world that wanted her back. Please, she thought, but she didn't know exactly what she was silently pleading for. She only knew that this—that all of this—had been too much. It was more than she could bear. If the end had come, she would welcome it, because she could progress no further.

She withdrew.

For a time, Dash thought no thoughts. She felt nothing and did nothing, and it was a relief beyond measure. This peace, such as it was, wasn't suddenly taken away from her either, as she feared it would be. No new hardship was thrust upon her. Additional disasters failed to make themselves known. She was left alone by the world, and so she remained still with her eyes clenched shut.

It was a kind of rest.

How long Dash lay there, she had no idea, but at some point in her respite, old worries and memories became aroused from long slumber and began to wander unrestricted around her blank and defenseless mind.

Feelings of inadequacy, memories of past blunders, and self-recriminations hounded her. They formed a gibbering hoard of vileness that crept and slunk ever closer, forcing her back into the corners of her own head. Their thick, clinging tendrils of malevolent condemnation suffocated Dash with her own doubts and fears.

Her mind flailed wildly in a desperate attempt to escape the crushing depression that threatened to smother her in darkness.

With the silence of thought, she screamed—a raw burst of rage and fear that came from everywhere and nowhere.

As her head rang with the echoes of her anger, she stared into the darkness with a sudden and powerful defiance—and the dark forms retreated. Scratching and scraping at the walls of her mind, they left behind their foul stench as they slunk back into the recesses of her memories.

Trembling in the silence, she felt compelled to reach out for a good memory, any memory that could bring her comfort—a lifeline that could remind her who she was.

She found one.

Some time ago, an unsuspecting Rainbow Dash had been granted a title—while battling the Mare in the Moon, of all things. It was a huge honor. It had made her proud, but it had not changed who she was. She had come first—the title had come later. She chose to put others before herself not because of some dusty jewelry or ancient magic, but because that was an inseparable part of her. She couldn't be Rainbow Dash without her loyalty.

She couldn't remember any one event that had put that powerful drive within her. There might not have been a beginning to it at all. It was just something that had, as far as she was concerned, always been a part of her. Being called the Element of Loyalty didn't make her any more or less loyal to her friends, loved ones, and fellow ponies than she had been before she started saving Equestria on a semi-regular basis.

As important as being one of the Elements was, it was all rather—She stopped to remember a word she had read in a book. She had needed to look it up.

Superfluous.

She didn't need a mystical jewel to tell her not to give up on her friends or her responsibilities. She wouldn't anyhow.

She wouldn't now.

Dash was suddenly filled with the solace of self-respect. It lifted her from within, exposing the hard parts of her will, her resolve, the inner strength that defined who she was and what she did. She would go on, because Dash couldn't not.

She struggled upright in wet sand, its grit chafing her hide where it had worked its way beneath her tattered uniform. She was careful not to put any weight on her left foreleg—not yet.

Blinking the sand and salt from her eyes, she saw that she was on a beach. She saw that it was daytime. She saw that somehow—and she had no idea how—she had survived her fall.

Dash looked around more closely, trying to tell where she was, but all she could see was sand and water. Not the ocean, though she could tell it was close because of the empty horizon beyond a narrow bay and sandy dunes.

The tops of bushes, or perhaps even trees, jutted above the choppy surface of the bay. An unusually high tide, she decided, probably due to the storm.

Maybe I landed in the water, and it broke my fall. That seemed unlikely, but more likely than anything else she could think of—not that she had any other ideas. Though she had woken up right at the edge of the lapping waves. Just one more impossibility.

She began to assess her condition. Perhaps it was a sign of her personal priorities, but she tested her wings first. A careful extension and a few test flaps later, and she deemed them still functional, if very stiff and sore. Then she turned her attention to her leg.

Dash couldn't straighten it, and bending it was made difficult by the obvious swelling that restricted motion. There was pain, but not so much that she thought it was broken. She'd had broken bones before and knew that this much movement would be impossible if there was a serious fracture.

The involuntary gasp of pain when she tried to put some weight on it eliminated all thought of walking away from here, but then that was never her intention to begin with.

It was only then that she suddenly realized something was missing.

The hurricane!

Dash looked up at the sunny sky above her, staring at the cloudless blue that chilled her to the bone. The storm isn't here! It's gone up the coast. That means it's already rolled over the train, Manehatten, and everypony I care about. I didn't stop it. I couldn't even try.

I've failed!

Scratching, slithering shadows again began to stir within her mind, but she held up her courage as a shield and ignored them.

Dash spun around—as best as she could on only three good legs—looking for any sign of the hurricane, but everywhere she looked was the same gray horizon. She couldn't even tell which direction it had gone. Back in Manehatten, she had seen from the maps that it was moving inland and north. If she headed in that direction, maybe, just maybe, she could catch up to it.

She shook off as much of the sand as she could and started to flex her wings in preparation for flight. She stretched each good leg and twisted her neck this way and that, eliciting a flurry of cracks and pops from her abused joints.

Wings outstretched, she prepared to leap into the air—just as a brief gust of sea wind blew over her.

She hesitated.

Why, she wasn't sure. The short gust had brought back memories of flying through the storm, and for a moment she thought her hesitation was due to fear.

No, she decided, this isn't fear. It was something else.

She turned around to look in the direction the gust had come from and squinted at the gray horizon. Why is it gray back there? That's not where the storm should be.

Again Dash looked all around, noting the consistency of the horizon in every direction. She scowled, thinking, This isn't right, and she leapt into the air.

She quickly ascended into the clear blue sky in a tight spiral, until she could see both land and sea—and something else. She stared, uncomprehending, before suddenly it all fell into place and she was inexplicably reminded of Soarin's words to her on the train:

"Keep your center, your core, clear and bright and warm. That way you can plan, innovate, and react without hindrance when the need arises. To have control of anything, you must first have control of your center."

All around her was a wall of storm. From up here, she could clearly see the sharp edge where it touched the water and sand, cutting the world in two and creating a circular pocket of calm.

In the center, it was clear and bright and warm.

The storm was hollow, and she was still inside it.

She hovered in place and gawked, amazed at the impossibility of so sharp a contrast between storm and sky, the symmetry on such a massive scale. High Winds wasn't kidding when she called it organized chaos. This is incredible!

But deadly, she reminded herself. And I still have a job to do.

Dash continued to hover in place, however. She was at the edge of an idea, and she didn't want to lose it. Soarin's words fit what she was seeing amazingly well, but he hadn't been talking about a storm. She had thought the advice passed down to him from Summer Zephyr was about keeping calm in adversity, but now she was thinking there was more to it than that.

She spoke her thoughts aloud. "I think I understand what you were telling me, Soarin." Her voice was barely there, hoarse and raspy. She tried to clear her dry throat and continue, hoping that hearing her words would help the idea fully form.

"I think I understand now. It doesn't come easily to me, but I can see the importance of—of not just staying calm, but being calm. It's like all my bad thoughts and feelings are little monsters in my house, and I need to keep them out of the room I'm in so they won't distract me."

She grimaced. She had so many little monsters in there, too, like her insecurity that she wasn't good enough to be a Wonderbolt. On its own, she could master it. It was when her darker thoughts all ganged up on her that she lost control—or when they popped up unexpectedly and surprised her.

"If I find them all and give each one its own room, then I know where they are and they can't sneak up on me anymore." It felt like she was opening a gift and finding something useful—just what she needed. "But if I ignore them, or pretend they don't exist, they are free to do whatever they want. I'd be losing control."

The idea was filling her with excitement and the desire to put it to the test. It wasn't about trying to change who you were, it was about choosing only the best parts of yourself to give center stage.

She imagined all her mental monsters hidden away inside her mind and resolved never to ignore or deny them again. They were a part of her, and to hate them was to hate herself. She couldn't love them, but she could accept their presence and give each its own place in her head so she could find them again. Then they would be under her control. Her fears and faults couldn't take her by surprise if she remained aware of them.

I know what the best parts of me are, and I know my not-so-best parts. So today I'm going to make use of only the best. Tomorrow too. And the next day!

Dash felt more alive than she could ever remember feeling before. Here, suspended in a clear sky, in a sunny calm surrounded by raging winds, she felt a sense of completeness fill her. A newfound energy bubbled up from within, making her hide bristle and her feathers tremble in the still air.

Her thoughts were clear and bright and warm.

She whooped and did a backwards somersault in midair. "I control my center!" she shouted.

That was the moment the idea crystallized in her head. The center!

The hurricane was too big to simply kick to shreds like a little puff-cloud over Ponyville. It was too big to push around or maneuver where she liked. It was too big to kill.

But it has a center, and that center is much, much smaller.

She would control its center.

Dash smiled.

———

Dash tumbled through the air, her wings snapping wide and lifting her just before she hit the surface of the water. She panted heavily as she flew back into the slowly moving center of the storm, wiping the sea-spray from her eyes as she went.

Once more gliding under a clear sky, she skimmed above the huge, angry waves and caught her breath. Okay... This isn't working.

Her plan to slow the spin of the hurricane by flying around the inner wall of the storm, opposite to the winds, was turning out to be impossible. She might have the wing power for it, but the gusts made it too unstable. She couldn't maintain steady flight like that for long.

I can't slow it down, but maybe—She thought about all the cloud spinning practice she had done in the past. That was one of those tricks where only another pegasus could truly appreciate the skill it demonstrated. Spin it too slow, and it would stop almost immediately. Spin it too fast and—

It flies apart!

Instead of flying against the winds, she could fly with them, speeding the spin of the storm's core. She had no illusions that she, a single pegasus, could make the whole storm spin faster, but maybe she could make it unstable, like the little clouds she spun too fast back home.

Okay, it's not a great plan, but it's better than getting knocked into the sea by going the other way. She grimaced. I just hope I won't be making things worse.

Dash adjusted her uniform to relieve the bunching around her wings, taking care not to unduly flex her injured leg. All the tears and rips in the fabric made it hang strangely on her body. It was quite a mess, but she couldn't bring herself to discard it, even as ruined as it was.

She pulled the hood back, feeling the sting of the multiple small cuts on her face—made all the more painful by the salty spray. The uniform might help with aerodynamics, but it offered no protection from abrasion.

Her goggles were useless, cracked and broken after her unconscious fall. They hung around her neck, trapped in the folds of the hood on her back.

At least flying with the wind, I'll be able to see.

She took a deep breath and, summoning the last reserves of her strength, once more flew towards the wall of darkness.

———

"Oh yeeaaaaaaaah!" Dash hollered above the roar of wind.

This was speed like she had never experienced before. The strength of the storm beneath her wings gave her an intoxicating feeling of power and control. What little she could see of the sand and surf below was an indistinct blur.

Faster. Faster!

Dash leaned into her flight, pushing herself to greater effort, gaining more speed. All thoughts of pain or discomfort were pushed out of her mind by the heady thrill of surfing the winds of a hurricane.

This was almost fun.

If it wasn't so hard.

Behind her, the rainbow streak streaming away from her tail was growing longer, even as the violent winds ripped it into shreds. Soon, she could see tattered remnants of it in front of her—faint traces of color amid the cloud. She realized she was starting to lap her own contrail.

It made her want to go even faster.

Dash gritted her teeth, squinted her watering eyes against the buffeting air, and poured every ounce of her remaining strength into her wings. The irregularities of the storm's gusts beat against her injured leg, once more adding pain to her awareness. Her other leg remained outstretched before her, punching her way through the air, reaching for her own circling rainbow.

Dash felt the air bunching up in front of her, wrapping around her in a standing wave. This is it, she thought. This was how it felt to start a sonic rainboom. But what will it be like in winds like this? Is it even possible?

It was definitely rougher going than she had ever felt before when approaching that moment, just before breaking through in an explosion of contrail light—or bouncing off it hard and tumbling uncontrolled out of the sky. She was balancing on the sharpest of points—one wrong twist of wing and everything would be over now.

The thought of not trying didn't even cross her mind. No matter the outcome, this was the moment. This is it, for good or bad. If she had any hope of saving her friends, and everypony else at peril from this massive hurricane, she had to push through.

Her senses were screaming at her: the deafening roar of the air, the pummeling hits of rock-hard gusts, the taste of blood, the pain. They all conspired to knock her out of the sky. It was a scintillating flame deep within her, the arrow of her heart, that propelled her onward as she held tight to a single thought.

Loyalty.

Rainbow Dash pushed.

———

A tiny, glowing light trailing a streak of color circled the eye of the hurricane, impossibly fast. The streak broke up in ragged tatters farther behind and around the curve of the storm wall but was still visible for the whole circumference.

Around and around the point went, painting streaks of vibrant light upon the dark clouds, infusing the wall of wind and rain with all the colors of the rainbow.

Then the point, moving even faster, started to flicker and pulse—a silent flashing at the edge of chaos. As it flickered, the rainbow trail it left behind became more solid, no longer breaking up in the strong winds. The solid trail of light grew longer.

The moment the bow's leading edge caught up to its tail, the very air seemed to bend and warp, shaking the heart of the hurricane.

The sky filled with light.

———

Chapter 8 - Head Rest

CHAPTER 8

Head Rest

It took many tries for Dash to regain some semblance of consciousness. She had little memory of prior attempts by the time she could form complete thoughts. All that she could piece together was that she was in a bed.

The pillow was particularly soft and comfortable.

That made it easy to sleep.

———

"You've been in a coma for eight days, though we think the last two were more like normal sleep. Well, as normal as anything in your condition."

The doctor was paying more attention to the clipboard floating in front of her than to Dash, which was particularly annoying because Dash had been trying to get some answers all morning. The doctor seemed distracted and was rushing through the visit without being particularly helpful.

When Dash had fully wakened, the nurses wouldn't let her out of bed—though she wasn't sure she could get out of it on her own—and they refused to answer any of her questions until the doctor came to check on her.

Her repeated attempts to get some information had sapped what little strength she'd recovered, so she was startled from an unwanted sleep by the doctor's eventual arrival.

It was embarrassing to feel so helpless and tired.

She felt anger building inside her chest. "But what about the hurricane? Did it hit Manehatten? What happened to the train from Ponyville? My friends were on it and—"

The flood of worries poured from her in a rush, but the doctor was already leaving and never once looked up from her clipboard.

Dash tried to sit up, but she didn't have the strength. She dropped back in a heap against the pillows, the cast on her foreleg banging into the bruises on her side. She looked up at the white ceiling and groaned in frustration.

The nurse following the doctor paused at the door, looking back at Dash with concern. After a quick glance into the hallway, she said quietly, "Somepony's been asking to see you. You aren't supposed to have visitors, but..." She seemed to be torn between duty and compassion. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I'll bring her up as soon as I can." She quickly slipped out the door.

Her? Her who? Twilight? Applejack? Not knowing who to expect made the wait that followed unbearable.

———

A soft knock woke her.

Asleep again? Gah! She pounded the bed in frustration with her good foreleg—or tried to, but she didn't even have the strength for that. It barely made a sound and was unnoticed by the new arrivals—for it wasn't just one visitor.

Spitfire entered the room first, impressive in her immaculate officer's jacket, nodding politely to the nurse that had brought them. Soarin was close behind her, also in his dress uniform and carrying a bouquet of flowers.

Spitfire came right to Dash's bedside and removed her sunglasses, her amber eyes surveying the extent of the damage with practiced skill.

Dash felt very aware of just how many bandages she sported. Embarrassed by her ragged condition, her cheeks flushed with color—which she hoped was hidden by all the gauze and tape stuck there.

Soarin had placed the bouquet in an empty vase on the table at the end of her bed, and was focusing all of his attention on adjusting the position of each blossom.

Dash felt a smile form as she thought of Soarin the florist. When she looked back at Spitfire's stern stare, however, Dash's smile melted away, leaving her face blank and her mind worried. Am I in trouble?

The fear that she had done something horribly wrong only grew as the moment stretched out without any change in Spitfire's expression. Dash wanted to squirm under her covers. She glanced over at Soarin, but he was patently ignoring them and still fussing with the flowers. His unnecessary adjustments knocked petals loose to rain slowly onto the table.

Dash was suddenly startled by Spitfire's gentle touch on her unbandaged forehead. Looking back up at Spitfire's face, she found a much softer expression of compassion, and perhaps a touch of moisture in the captain's eyes.

"Yes. I can tell you are going to be just fine, Rainbow Dash," said Spitfire softly with the conviction of a veteran performance flyer.

Dash closed her own eyes and felt tears forming, her next breath coming in a shudder. What's wrong with me? Spitfire's words, or her touch, had released something pent up inside her, something she now struggled to control.

The thought of crying in front of the captain of the Wonderbolts horrified her, and she scrunched her eyes up tighter, but she couldn't stop the tears. Her chest trembled and she held her breath to stop the next from becoming a sob.

Dash felt Spitfire's hoof move to wipe away one of her tears, smearing the stream and cooling her cheek.

She immediately struggled to sit up in her bed, using her good foreleg to forcefully wipe her tears away, almost dislodging several bandages in the process. She felt Spitfire's hoof withdraw.

When Dash had brushed away the majority of her shame, she opened her eyes, at first not looking at the captain out of embarrassment. She saw Soarin's back as he studiously examined a small sign on the opposite wall that listed visiting hours and the emergency exits to use in case of fire.

When she did look back at Spitfire, the captain was sitting next to the bed, a more neutral but still kind expression on her face.

Dash let herself breathe but kept firm control of each rise and fall of her chest. She wiped away the last of the sudden tears and felt herself regaining control of her emotions even as she sagged back against the pillows, more exhausted than ever.

What just happened? She couldn't understand that flood of emotion at all. She couldn't even tell what emotion it was! All she knew was that it was fast and strong and had left her utterly drained.

Spitfire was calmly watching her. Dash looked into her eyes and, as exhaustion overtook her, she realized something else.

She felt better.

Dash's eyes closed, and she slept.

———

Dash must have jarred her leg in her sleep, because she woke up with it throbbing. She looked at the cast with mild annoyance and tapped on it, hearing the familiar sound of a plaster-wrapped limb. She'd had too many of these.

A soft sound caught her attention, and she looked around the room for its source. Soarin was sitting up on a low cushion by the wall, his head leaning against the side of a cabinet, eyes closed and mouth hanging open. That was where the noise was coming from—Soarin's snores.

He's Snoarin! Dash sniggered and then took a deep breath. She felt more awake now, even if her visitor wasn't. Perhaps she had finally gotten all of the sleep out of her system.

She considered getting out of bed, for she felt capable of it now, but decided to err on the side of caution and remain where she was.

Besides, she didn't want to wake Soarin.

She sat up and adjusted her pillows, as best she could with only one hoof, so that she could remain in a more upright position. She'd had enough of sleeping for a while.

Of course, she didn't have much else to do. It was dark outside, and though she didn't know the time, she guessed from the silence that it was quite late at night.

She looked all around the room but found nothing else of much interest. She eventually found herself just watching Soarin sleep, slightly disappointed he didn't drool.

On second thought, she was grateful that he didn't.

Watching Soarin reminded her of Spitfire's visit and her own strange reaction to the captain's words. Dash now thought she understood what had happened.

When she had first woken up in the hospital, her only thoughts and concerns were for others—her friends, the train's passengers, the citizens of Manehatten. She never asked if she was all right, if she was going to recover, or—Dash shuddered at the thought—if she was ever going to fly again.

She hadn't even let herself think those questions, but they were still inside her, waiting to be answered.

When Spitfire had said the words that Dash so needed to hear, even if she hadn't known it, it had come as such a relief that—I nearly sobbed like a little foal.

As Dash sat there thinking about it, she decided that there was no reason to be embarrassed. Spitfire hadn't reacted badly to her loss of control—she hadn't even looked surprised. She might have even expected such a result. As captain of the Wonderbolts, she must have seen her fair share of accidents and injuries, and she probably knew exactly what she was doing.

There was no way to know, but since it was all over and done with, Dash wouldn't let it bother her. She was going to be okay, after all. She had it from a high authority! She chuckled softly.

Her good humor lasted for a while, but eventually it was overcome by the ennui of the bedridden. There was absolutely nothing to do. If she could sleep, she would, but she was wide-awake now. She glanced over at the sleeping Soarin.

Dash let out a bored sigh, with a bit more force than necessary. When that got no reaction, she tried again, louder still. Soarin's ear twitched—but his snores continued unabated. She gave up and let out a real sigh.

Another wistful scan of the room and her eyes landed on the bedside table drawer. It was on the same side as her cast, but she curiously reached across with her other hoof and cracked it open anyway.

Inside was a book.

She quickly yanked open the drawer and pulled the book out, excitedly bringing it close to read the title. However, she was disappointed to find that it wasn't a Daring Do book as she had hoped, or even an adventure story.

She stared at the thick book in her lap, disheartened. However, with nothing better to do, she opened it and began to read.

———

A gentle shake brought Dash out of a dream that faded to nothingness before she was awake enough to remember it fully. She was left with only the vague impression of an unending barren landscape of light brown.

She shook her head to clear it and found Twilight leaning over her. "Sorry to wake you, Rainbow Dash, but our train will be leaving soon and we didn't want to go without getting to talk to you."

"Twilight!" Her relief to see her friend here and healthy, after so much worry, exploded inside of Dash. She threw her hooves around Twilight's neck to pull her into a tight embrace—bashing Twilight's head with her cast in the process.

"Ow!"

Dash yanked her hooves back. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, Twilight!"

"Oh my! Are you all right, dear?" Rarity cried. She and Fluttershy rushed to either side of Twilight, who was squinting one eye and rubbing her forehead.

"Do you need to lie down? Are you dizzy?" asked Fluttershy as she looked around the room in a panic. "I'm sure they have a bed here you can use."

"I'm fine. It was just a little bump. No harm done," insisted Twilight as she brushed away Rarity's attempts to examine the point of impact.

Dash's initial chagrin at accidentally thwacking her friend in the head was turning into annoyance at all the fuss being made over it. She was the one with all the injuries, after all.

Applejack must have read her thoughts from her expression, because she explained the commotion. "Twilight just got out of the hospital in Manehatten yesterday, and she's still a little under the weather. We're finally on our way back to Ponyville. She and some other patients were given spots on the first train to make the trip since the storm, with us as escorts."

"Oh." Dash was a bit embarrassed now to have felt annoyed, and even more sorry she hadn't remembered about her cast—which was throbbing again, but she wasn't going to mention it.

Pinkie Pie suddenly had Dash in a crushing hug. "Don't worry! You'll be better soon too, then we can all have a big welcome home... PARTY!" As she shouted the word, confetti and streamers flew into the air.

A passing nurse paused at the open door, scowling in at the noise. Pinkie let go of Dash, pursed her lips, and played innocent until the nurse moved on with a harrumph, then she gave Dash a big conspiratorial wink and a grin.

Dash smiled back as she tried to shift her position to minimize the aching of her over-hugged bruises. When she pulled the blankets up, the book she had been reading fell onto the floor at Twilight's hooves.

"What's this?" Twilight asked, picking it up and reading the cover. "Beige to Beige: A Historie of Colour in the Textiles Industrie. Were you reading this?"

Dash rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "I was booooored!" She looked at Twilight, "You know, I think they keep that book in here to be used as a sedative."

Twilight giggled softly. "Here. I think you'll like this more." She reached towards her back, but stopped and looked confused.

"I've got yer saddlebag, Twilight," said Applejack, turning around so Twilight could see it.

"Oh, yes. I forgot." Twilight's horn started to glow, but Rarity quickly stepped in front of her.

"No, no. The doctor said you weren't to use magic for a few days. Allow me." Rarity's own horn glowed, and a book floated from the saddlebags into Dash's lap.

Dash looked at the cover. "A Daring Do book! It's been ages since I read this one, too. Thanks, Twilight!"

Twilight laughed softly again, her voice slightly shaky. "No problem. I finished that one in the hospital, and I have something else to read while we're heading back to Ponyville."

She seems so tired. Dash remembered how Twilight looked lying unconscious on the train floor. Magic must be harder than I thought. I'm glad she's up and around again, at least. Then she remembered Twilight's greeting. "Wait... you're leaving already? But you just got here!"

"There won't be another train for a while," said Applejack. "They aren't really running passenger service yet. If we miss getting back on this one, we'll be stuck here for—well, until the next one, which could be weeks."

Dash gave half a shrug and hopeful grin. "Would that be so bad?"

Rarity came up next to Twilight and put a protective hoof over her shoulder. "We simply must get Twilight home as soon as possible. She needs her rest." When Twilight opened her mouth to protest, Rarity held up her hoof and said, "Doctor's orders."

"We're all needed back home," said Applejack. "The storm may not have hit Ponyville directly, but they got a lot of wind and rain there too."

Dash was crestfallen, and didn't try to hide it, but she was also hungry for news and now it seemed that she had little time left to get it all.

"Okay, but you've got to tell me what happened on the train. And Manehatten." Dash threw her hooves up in the air in exasperation. "Nopony is telling me anything around here!"

"Ya haven't heard?" asked Applejack. Dash shook her head emphatically. "Well, after you left, the storm got a little worse for a spell and then, amazingly, it started lettin' up! The wind died down enough that the railroad folk that were helping us before came back and started getting everypony off the train."

Applejack moved closer to Dash's side as she continued the tale. "Another train was sent out to take us up to Manehatten, and by the time we got there, it wasn't even rainin' anymore. We were really worried about you though, sugarcube, and we made sure everypony knew you were missing."

"Every-pony!" chimed in Pinky, nodding vigorously from where she sat perched at the end of the bed, bouncing a little.

"Yeah," said Applejack, "but with all the hubbub over the storm suddenly changing course away from Manehatten like it did, we didn't get anywhere until we ran into one of the Wonderbolts. Lightning-something—"

"Lightning Streak," said Dash absently, but she was mesmerized by the news that the storm had changed direction. Could I have possibly—She was becoming excited. The storm changed course. Did I actually save everypony after all? Did I change the path of the hurricane? She began to smile uncontrollably.

"Streak. Yeah, that was him. Funny accent. He organized every pegasus he could round up into a huge search party and—Well, they found you... eventually." Applejack frowned.

Rarity stepped up and placed a hoof on Dash's. "I don't think they wanted to worry us, but it sounded like you were in such an awful state. They didn't bring you back to Manehatten. They took you here, to the closest hospital, instead."

Dash was chomping at the bit to tell them what she had done, but Rarity's words popped a new question into her head. "Um, where exactly is here, anyway? Not Manehatten?"

Applejack shook her head. "No. This here's Fillydelphia."

Dash's eyes went wide. I must have been blown way off course by the winds.

Twilight looked around the room. "They must have been pretty quick in getting you here once they found you, for you to have a private room. What with all the injured, this hospital is pretty full."

"Injured? Here? Why?" Dash's smile faltered.

"When the hurricane changed course away from Manehatten," said Applejack, "it came here instead."

Dash's chest became suddenly tight.

Rarity added, "We saw ever-so-much damage, just from the train—trees down, houses broken. Oh, such an awful mess. It will take them such a long time to clean it all up again."

"You said it," said Applejack. "That storm really packed a wallop!"

The smile was completely gone from Dash's face now. The enormity of it all was just starting to sink in. I did that. It's my fault.

"We're so glad they found you, Dash, and got you to safety," said Twilight, wobbling slightly. "Everypony was so worried."

Rarity looked at Twilight and gasped, "Oh, my dear! You're pale as a sheet. We must get you back to the train immediately!"

"No, really, I'm—" Twilight staggered as her knees buckled, but Rarity and Fluttershy supported her and kept her from falling. "Well... Perhaps I could use a bit of a rest."

Goodbyes were regretfully said and hugs were exchanged—carefully—but through it all, Dash had only one thought running through her mind.

When her friends finally made their way out of Dash's room—Pinkie last, mouthing "big welcome home party" and winking at her—Dash was left alone in a room that seemed to fill with her guilt.

I threw a hurricane at Fillydelphia. Every single injury, every bit of damage and destruction here—is all because of me!

It's my fault.

———

Dash spent her remaining time in the hospital in a depressed gloom. She took no active part in her own recovery, distressing the nurses with how little she ate and how disinterested she was in building back her strength. She did her exercises only as long as she was being prompted to do so, including her flying therapy in the hospital's gymnasium.

The rest of the time Dash spent alone in her room, sleeping. She didn't smile and barely talked. She read the Daring Do novel cover to cover twice, but derived no enjoyment from it.

The head nurse told her that if the hospital didn't need her bed for other patients so badly, she wouldn't let Dash leave yet. She thought Dash needed more time to recover, but it was out of her hooves.

Dash found her Wonderbolt uniform, or what was left of it, as she was packing up her things. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it. When not stretched over her body, the uniform was much smaller, and with all the rips and tears it had sustained, it seemed so pathetic in her hooves. It looked like she felt.

She finished packing what little she had and waited.

When a nurse arrived with a wheelchair, Dash shook her head. "I don't need that." She waved her cast. "This doesn't matter, I'll just fly."

"Hospital rules," the nurse replied sternly. "We have to bring you by wheelchair to the door and you have to have somepony to escort you home."

Dash didn't argue. She just got into the wheelchair with her saddlebag on her lap and let the nurse push her down the hallway, a faint rhythmic squeaking coming from one wheel.

For a while, Dash rode in silence, then she said, "And I don't have anypony here to meet me. All my friends are back in Ponyville."

"There's somepony here to collect you, or you wouldn't have been discharged" was the nurse's curt answer.

They passed the guard at the front desk, who nodded cordially to them, but Dash didn't respond. The nurse parked the wheelchair just outside the front doors in the shade of an awning.

It was a warm day with bright sunshine flooding the expansive lawn in front of the hospital. Dash could see an iron gate at the far end of the long driveway, which was the only break in the line of tall hedges that surrounded the property. Wide flower gardens flanked the driveway on either side, and a gardener was tending to them and whistling.

It was a sunny and cheerful scene—completely at odds with her mood.

The nurse stepped inside to turn in some paperwork, leaving Dash alone in the shade of the awning. Turning her gaze away from the light and greenery, Dash scrunched down in her chair, her face expressionless.

Suddenly the wheelchair rocketed forward. Dash, startled, grabbed at the arm of the chair. The bright light blinded her as she burst out from under the awning. She tried to block the glare with her injured foreleg, but her saddlebag almost slipped off her lap and she had to pin it down with her cast.

Squinting as she hurtled down the driveway, she turned to look behind her, but her own flowing mane got in the way. She shook her head to flip it to the side and was almost thrown from the chair as it swerved to avoid a tray of seedlings left on the side of the road.

Bracing against the sides of the chair, she again turned to look behind her, only to see herself staring back with an alarmed expression. She pulled her head away in surprise and then saw that it was a reflection in a pair of smoked glass goggles above a wide and toothy grin.

"Soarin?"

He winked at her from behind the glass. She opened her mouth to say more, but a hard jolt made her look forward. They were about to hit the closed iron gate. "Hold on," Soarin shouted over the shriek of the overstressed axle. "Hard aport!"

Dash gritted her teeth as she struggled to keep herself in her seat. The chair went up on one wheel, almost throwing her into the air as it made first one sharp turn, then another, so that it was racing back up the driveway towards the hospital.

Dash yelled, "What are you doing?" as the gardener dived out of their path, landing face-first in the pogonias.

"You looked like you needed some wind in your mane!" he shouted back happily, but Dash's eyes were going wide and all her attention was on the fast-approaching building—and the startled nurse that stood frozen in their way.

Dash hollered, "You've got to stop!" and looked back over her shoulder, but Soarin was gone. She gulped.

Pinning her bag between her knees, she reached down and flipped up the tire locks. The wheels seized and the chair shimmied left and right, though still aimed directly at the petrified nurse. Dash thought it was going to flip. She pulled her legs up and held on as tight as she could.

The chair stopped inches away from the nurse's hooves in a cloud of dust and pungent rubber smoke.

There was a heartbeat's pause, and then the nurse exploded. "What do you think you are doing? This is a hospital!"

Dash quickly struggled to explain. "It wasn't me! It was—" She looked and gestured behind her, but there was still nopony there. When she turned back, the nurse was galloping inside and calling for the security guard behind the front desk. But it wasn't my fault the chair took off!

"Psst!"

Dash looked towards the sound and saw a hoof reaching out to her from the edge of the awning, Soarin's grinning face behind it, upside down. "Quick!"

She looked back inside the hospital entrance and saw the nurse agitatedly speaking with the guard, waving a hoof in Dash's direction. The guard looked out at her and started forward with a frown.

Faced with the choice between trying to explain her mad ride and just flying away with Soarin, it took Dash only a moment to make her decision. Grabbing her bag, she reached out for the proffered hoof.

A moment later, the two of them were hiding behind a narrow spire on the hospital's roof, as the guard, nurse, and gardener peered up into the sky looking for her.

Soarin watched from their hiding spot, giggling like a schoolcolt.

The adrenaline rush from her wild ride had given Dash a familiar fluttering feeling in her chest that she hadn't felt for a long time. It felt good, and as she stood there looking at the cheerful Wonderbolt next to her, she could imagine Soarin as the precocious troublemaker that he must have been in his youth.

And still is now.

His enthusiasm was infectious, and when he turned to her with a twinkle in his eye and a big, satisfied smile on his face, Dash couldn't help but return it.

Something broke loose inside her as their eyes met and she remembered that haughty nurse's shocked expression as the wheelchair came rushing towards her. Dash's smile became a chuckle, and the chuckle became a laugh, and a moment later she was lying on her back gasping for breath between body-shaking guffaws.

She couldn't stop laughing.

Again and again her mind played back her ride, and every time it just got funnier and funnier.

When her need for air finally reigned in the laughter, she looked up to see Soarin sitting there, a big goofy grin on his face. That grin! She shook her head and chuckled as she got to her hooves. She peeked around the spire, but didn't see any sign of their pursuers.

"They're gone," said Soarin, reaching out to take her saddlebags and toss them over his own back. "Ready to go yourself?"

She cocked her head at him. "I guess you're supposed to be my responsible escort home?"

Soarin flourished a quite elegant bow in her direction. "At your service! And we best get going." He straightened the saddlebags and stretched his wings wide in preparation for flight. "We have a long way to go. There are still no trains running passenger service through Fillydelphia. We're flying!"

Wings outstretched, he waited for her to take the lead.

Dash stretched her own stiff wing muscles. She hadn't done much more than glide around the gym since starting her physical therapy. She hoped she was up to it. Here goes. She leapt off the roof and ascended into the sky with Soarin close behind her.

As they gained some altitude, she looked back down at the hospital and was startled by how small it was. "It looks more like a school."

Soarin turned to follow her gaze. "That's because it is. It's a teaching hospital. Spitfire wanted you to have the very best doctors, and all the very best doctors teach at that school."

Dash thought back to the few doctors she had met during her stay. She hadn't been too impressed. "They didn't seem all that good to me."

"Those were probably the students," said Soarin as they turned away from the building and struck out in the direction of Ponyville. "But when you got there, you definitely had the best of the best looking after you." He glanced at her with a serious expression. "You needed them. What did you do to get yourself in such a state, anyway?"

His question brought back all the memories and emotions that she had been struggling with for days. Shame flooded through her as she again faced the destruction she had caused, the harm she had done to the citizens of Fillydelphia. The dark depression slid over her once more. She was responsible.

Soarin looked over at her with concern when she didn't answer.

Dash wanted to tell him, to reach out for his help, but she didn't deserve any help—not from him, not from anypony.

She thought of his reaction—of everypony's reaction—if her blunder became known, and she was more scared than she could ever remember being.

Afraid, helpless to make amends, and feeling lower than she had ever felt before, Dash couldn't stand to be inside her own head. She wanted to scream.

Then she remembered echoes of another scream and the sinister shapes in the darkness of her mind that had retreated from it. Dash remembered waking up in the center of the storm and finding a calmness, both around her and inside her. She remembered that her emotions, good and bad, were hers—hers to control.

She was guilty. She was scared. She was filled with remorse for her actions, but she could look those feelings in the eye and set them aside and make her decisions calmly, correctly.

Dash could be wise.

As she and Soarin glided through the cloudless sky, she spoke.

———

The welcome home party was in full swing with everypony laughing, playing games, and having a wonderful time.

Even Rainbow Dash.

Twilight was fully recovered, and she was hosting the party in the library. Banners welcoming each of them home were stretched across the shelves, hiding most of the books from sight. Balloons and bunting decorated every corner, and many small tables of delectable snacks were scattered about the room.

Her friends had postponed the party until Dash was back in Ponyville, and she loved them dearly for that. They wouldn't have had it any other way, and the delay had made the party all the more spectacular.

It seemed everypony in town was there at some point, all with hugs and smiles and joy to see her once more. Dash had never felt so at home.

When she found herself standing alone on a balcony, staring up at the stars, the sounds of the party still going on below her, she knew it wasn't because she was unhappy. Dash's chest was bursting with the joy of being home with her friends. She couldn't stop smiling, even now.

But something was incomplete. There was no neat little bow wrapping up the events of the past few weeks. Something was still missing.

Soarin hadn't stayed for the party after getting her home safely. He had wanted to head back to Manehatten as soon as possible to speak with Spitfire about all that Dash had told him. Soarin had made sure to alleviate some of her worries beforehand, however.

He had told her how he and the other Wonderbolts had taken on cleanup duties throughout Fillydelphia and the surrounding towns and homesteads after the storm. It was his long trips out into the countryside that had kept him from visiting her more often while she was recovering.

The Wonderbolts had done much to repair the damage from the hurricane, and he could tell her from his own firsthand experience that the destruction was not as bad as it could have been. Even though Fillydelphia hadn't expected to get hit, it had been better prepared than Manehatten for the aftermath.

Because Fillydelphia was much farther inland, the storm was weaker by the time it got there than it would have been for coastal Manehatten, meaning far less wind and rain. Manehatten would have suffered more in comparison.

Contrary to expectations, there had been very few injuries. Her hospital had been full only because it was small and everypony wanted to be treated there due to the excellence of its doctors.

Soarin told her that if what she had done to the hurricane had changed its course, then even though damage was done, there had been far less of it as a result. She had done good. She had helped.

Of course, they couldn't be sure that she had made any difference at all. That would take time and expertise to determine, and Soarin was keen to get that process started.

As he was preparing to depart, he had given her a long hug, saying, "If you turn out to be the hero I know you are, and we can show all of Equestria what you have done, then we will have a party like you've never seen!"

Dash turned and went back down to rejoin the others. Laughter and joyous conversation surrounded her once more, and she was hauled over in front of a camera where all of her friends were waiting for her, smiling at her, pulling her close and holding her tight.

As the flash went off, Rainbow Dash's thoughts were clear and bright and warm.

She needed no party other than this one. She needed no resolution. Whatever else came her way, Dash knew one thing for sure.

She had done her best.

———

Chapter 4 - Rail Danger

CHAPTER 4

Rail Danger

"A mudslide?"

The stationmaster nodded as he wrote a few lines and then gave the paper to a passing clerk. "Yes! Just this side of the South Gorge Bridge. Took out the telegraph lines too. We won't even know if the tracks are okay until we've cleared them off."

"But the train!"

"We've sent a crew to try and clear the tracks, but without the telegraph and with our flyers grounded by the storm—Would you believe the leading edge is still hours away?" He shook his head in disbelief, then he continued. "We have no way to contact the stations south of the bridge so that they know to stop the train. Unless they notice the lines are down and get extra cautious. But we can't count on them deciding to—Wait!" He looked at Dash again, and she could see his eyes darting down to the bolt of golden lightning on the uniform's flank. "Can you fly there and—"

Dash was already lowering her goggles. "I'm on it!" One clerk-dodging, rainbow-streaked moment later, she was out the door and gaining altitude.

The storm's intensity had grown while she had been inside the station, darkening the sky with thick rain-gushing thunderclouds—she could barely see through the downpour. She had to descend, lift her goggles, and squint through raindrop-laden lashes just to see the tracks. However, this was the central train station for Manehatten, and there were more tracks here than she'd ever seen before in one place, all splitting up and going in different directions. She couldn't tell which tracks to follow.

She realized she had acted in haste in order to make a "cool" exit, instead of a good exit. A Wonderbolt's exit.

Dash swooped down, back through the station's still-swinging door, slower this time, to get the directions she should have gotten before she left.

Wet paper was plastered everywhere. Frazzled clerks scurried about to gather and sort the debris of her rapid departure back into the all-important storm reports they once were. The place was a mess.

Guilt seemed to boil out of the pit of her stomach—guilt for her blunder, but more than that: guilt for damaging the good name of the Wonderbolts by causing such mayhem while wearing their uniform.

The stationmaster was still where Dash had left him on the other side the office. She became painfully aware of the new trail of water she was leaving across the floor to reach him, stepping gingerly around the ponies gathering up papers.

The dark looks from the clerks as she passed only piled embarrassment on top of the guilt. Her desire to fly off randomly until she found her own way grew with every step.

The stationmaster looked up with a scowl and saw her approaching, and suddenly Dash was at a complete loss for words. How could she just ask for directions after that fiasco of an exit? It would be so much easier to bluster her way through this uncomfortable encounter, as she probably would have under other circumstances. However, she was in the uniform, and that changed everything.

She heard "Dash's" likely words in her head, and "Wonderbolt Dash" cringed at them.

She wasn't really "Wonderbolt Dash" yet, though, despite the uniform—but she also wasn't "Just Dash" because she was in the uniform. Indecision knotted her stomach.

Reaching the stationmaster, with no further time to delay, neither version of Dash wanted to say a word. She'd never seen a Wonderbolt officially apologize for anything before—Spitfire's personal apology was something else entirely and not applicable here.

With no other obvious option, she let the uniform do the talking through her. Everything she'd ever heard her idols speak, all their professional attitude and poise—or what little she'd been able, somehow, to absorb—flowed up from someplace deep inside her.

"I'm so very sorry for my exit, stationmaster." His put-upon frown almost made her falter, but she pushed down her personal embarrassment and let the flow of words continue. "My only excuse is that I have friends on that train, and in my panic I made a bad decision." As she said those words, she heard the truth in them. "I'd offer my help in cleaning up, but I'm sure that I'd only make a bigger mess, and my skills are needed elsewhere at the moment. But I promise you that, when this is all over, I will be at your service in whatever way I can to make things right." Then, as she felt the words fail her, she could only repeat "I am so very sorry, sir!"

Dash took in a big breath at the end of this speech, having spoken it all in one go. She felt oddly drained. The stationmaster's scowl had melted away, but now she couldn't read his expression. She became aware that the nearby clerks had paused in their cleanup to watch. She started to wonder if, in her attempt to sound responsible, she had just sounded stupid.

The stationmaster gave her a curt nod. "A fine apology, Wonderbolt—I'm afraid I don't recognize your mane."

"Rainbow Dash, sir."

"Ah. New member?"

"Only temporary."

"I hope they make it permanent, Acting Wonderbolt Rainbow Dash. You have the right attitude." He smiled then, and something inside her quivered, hope sparking. "When you aren't letting your obvious enthusiasm get the better of you," he added.

He pointed a hoof in a southward direction. "Look for a tall pole with two red lights at the top. Head in that direction, and you'll be following the right tracks. Good luck, Wonderbolt!"

She gave him a salute, because that seemed the thing to do, and turned to make her way—walking this time—out of the station. The clerks she passed continued to clean up the mess she had made, but a few who had heard her apology turned to smile at her. The quiver in her chest strengthened. Maybe she had handled that right after all.

However, as she stepped out into a blast of heavy rain and howling wind, she berated herself for it even being necessary. Wonderbolts don't often apologize because they do their best not to do anything that needs an apology.

A determined grimace on her face, she spotted the indicated light tower, donned her goggles, and rocketed up into the howling storm.

———

If the edge of the storm is still two hours away, what in Equestria is this?

The land was as dark as night, though the clock in the train station had read half past eleven in the morning. Opaque curtains of rain swept over Dash, blown by fierce and inconsistent winds like none she'd ever flown in before.

Dash had to fly high enough that she didn't slam into the signs and telegraph poles that lined the rails, but still low enough that she could clearly see the tracks through all the rain and darkness. She almost crashed into the spout arm of an unexpected water tower as she was leaving the switchyards.

Onward she flew, pounding her water-soaked wings to make headway through the rain, struggling to hold a straight line above the tracks against the violent thrusts of wind shoving at her.

Never before had flying been such an ordeal. Never before had maintaining a level course taken all of her concentration. It was an intensity of focus that left little room for anything else—as Dash discovered when her flight was rudely interrupted.

Like going down stairs in the dark and thinking there is one more step than is actually there, Dash crunched—full speed and face first—into the side of a rocky hill.

The sudden impact knocked all the remaining breath from her body, paralyzing her lungs. Dazed by the impact, she slid helplessly down the cliff face to land painfully on the tracks below, stunned and scraped and gasping for breath around a mouthful of mud.

She sucked in a huge gasp of rain-filled air, her lungs aching almost more than her tired and battered body. Barely aware of where she was, she could only think to get off the tracks before a train came and crushed her—forgetting that the line was out of service.

In a daze, she dragged herself over the cold, wet metal of the rail and onto the gravel siding. As she cleared the tracks, her head cracked hard into stone, and she could move no more. Stars of pain were all that she could see in the blackness.

———

Dash's first clear thought was that she wasn't being rained on, but she could still hear the raindrops pounding the ground. She opened her eyes, but it made little difference. She opened and closed them repeatedly in an attempt to see something, anything at all.

It was not until a flash of lightning illuminated the turgid sky that Dash discovered that she was lying in the mouth of a tunnel. She turned to look down its Stygian throat as the thunder rolled in, echoing off the soot-stained stone walls. There was no light at the end of this tunnel.

After a time, the urgency of Dash's mission dragged her upright, swaying slightly but functional. She realized she had a dilemma on her hooves.

The tracks she was following had gone into a tunnel. To follow them, she would have to either go through it, on hoof and with no light source to guide her, or fly over whatever hill or mountain it penetrated and hope against hope to find the other end in the storm.

Without the rain to blame, Dash knew that the tears in her eyes were of her own making. Whether they were due to the pain or fear for her friends she couldn't say, but it was the pain that chose her course of action for her.

Although nothing was broken, she thought that giving her wings a chance to recover would increase her odds of getting to the train in time—even taking into consideration the time lost while traveling through the tunnel.

As long as the tunnel isn't too long.

Dash groaned and stretched her wings out, feeling the tip of one brush the tunnel wall. Thinking she could do that to keep herself moving straight, she set out into the tunnel at a slow trot.

Her stiff, tired wing quickly cramped in the strange position, but she discovered that she could feel the angle of the crossties as she stepped on them. That, and the echoes of her hoofsteps, was enough of a guide.

Urgency still rising inside her, she folded her wings back to rest them and closed her eyes. Blocking out the horrible thought of running into another wall, Dash set off into the darkness at a full gallop.

———

There was no sound in the cool, dusty, soot-flavored air but that which she made: the echoing thunder of her hoofbeats, the steady whoosh of her panting breath, the strained thudding of her heart. At first she tried to figure how far she'd gone and how much farther she'd likely have to go, but the monotony of it soon emptied her mind of all conscious thought. She just ran.

Alone in the dark, under who-knew-how-much rock and earth, she galloped onward into the endless echoes for what seemed like hours.

———

Dash was blasted by the storm before she was even aware of the change in sound and temperature near the end of the tunnel. In an instant, her wings sprang open, and she shot directly up into the rain, eyes still closed, the drops beating harshly against her face. Never had she been so relieved to be flying!

She slowed to a hover and relished in the rough sensation of wind and rain. The storm was every bit as harsh as before—perhaps even more so—but it was alive and changing. The mere thought of having to traverse that unending, unchanging tunnel again made Dash's hide crawl, and she realized just how much it had affected her. It wasn't exactly scary, but—I never want to have to do that again. Ever.

Opening her eyes into a squint against the rain, she carefully descended to find the tracks once more. The tunnel mouth was a black arch against the lesser black of the storm. She wanted nothing more than to turn her back to it and fly—and fly she did, all the faster for having that dark maw behind her.

———

After another hour or so of flying through the storm, the sight of the work crew's lights ahead brought a cry of relief unbidden to Dash's lips. She shot downward through buffeting winds to land hard, stumbling and splashing in thick sucking mud, rearing up to free her hooves directly in front of their single car-less engine. The train's bright floodlights behind her illuminated the scene of the disaster and the team's efforts to clear it.

The six-pony team, two unicorns levitating rocks and four earth ponies shoving piles of muddy soil, turned at the splash of her landing and sudden looming shadow. They were shocked to see the silhouette of a rearing pegasus, outlined in a halo of floodlights and sparkling rain—wings spread wide, prismatic mane blowing in the wind, majestic.

Her balance regained after the rough landing, Dash closed her wings and made her squelching way through the thick mud towards the closest worker, unaware of the shocked expression on his face. No longer in flight, her goggles had beaded up with water, and she had to remove them to see clearly. By that time, her target had recovered from his momentary belief in the supernatural and was moving to meet her halfway.

Despite the buckets of water hitting them, all six were so covered in thick, clingy mud that she couldn't even tell the colors of their hides, and exhaustion had etched lines in their soiled faces. Dash's greeter glanced at her uniform and nodded, raising his voice over the storm. "A Wonderbolt! No wonder. No normal pegasus could fly in this weather."

Dash opened her mouth to explain that she wasn't a full Wonderbolt but quickly decided this wasn't the time to nitpick. He asked her, "Where did you fly in from?"

"Manehatten station."

"All the way from Manehatten in this storm?" he exclaimed. "Celestia! I knew you Wonderbolts were good but... Color me impressed!"

"Right now all I can color you is brown," she quipped, nodding at his muddy coat.

Glancing at himself and the mud streaming down his flanks, he laughed shakily. "Not a bad color—I rather prefer it over my usual orange. More somber and dignified. If, as it is in this case, temporary."

Feeling they were straying from the task at hoof—though probably even more relieved to be having a conversation after so much time alone in the storm and the tunnel—Dash got down to business. "So how bad is it? Can we get it clear before the train arrives?"

"Train? They haven't stopped it already?" Shocked, he turned and galloped ahead over the mud and rocks to the far side of the slide, Dash taking a flying leap after him.

The tracks ran between two hills, one of which had collapsed, covering the rails with mud and rock. Beyond the far end of the mudslide, the tracks continued across the gorge on a wooden bridge. It was to either side of the bridge that the work crew directed all the debris that they cleared, spilling it into the gorge below. The mudslide even covered part the bridge itself, earth and stone spread over the wooden boards and iron rails.

The once-orange, now-brown workpony jumped down from the muddy pile onto the bridge and carefully trotted out beyond the end of the debris. He straddled the rails—front hooves on one side, rear hooves on the other—and held perfectly still, concentrating.

The pounding rain, lit by the engine's harsh lights, gave everything odd, flickering highlights. Even standing still, he seemed to be wreathed in motion, a shimmering halo of glistening raindrop splashes.

Dash waited at the edge of the bridge until he turned to her with a haunted expression. "Why didn't they signal the train to stop when we reported the blockage?" he demanded angrily.

She took a half step back at his intensity. "They couldn't! The telegraph lines are down."

He waved a hoof at the pole nearest them, the last on this side of the gorge before the line ran under the bridge to the other side. "It's intact and working perfectly! The slide didn't touch it. We used it to report our progress, even."

"Well..." She was unsure of how to answer that, not being all that knowledgeable about it. "Maybe there's a break further south."

He was quiet for a moment then admitted, "Yeah, that's possible. Likely, even, in this weather." He got agitated again. "But they have to be stopped! It's going to take days to clear these tracks."

"Days? I've gotta get to that train!"

"Fly fast, Wonderbolt." He clanged the rail with his hoof. "They aren't far at all!"

Dash nodded, lowered her goggles once more, and shot out over the narrow bridge.

The gorge was wide and deep and filled with dark, churning fog, and the bridge that spanned it was long and narrow. The wind was harsh above the bridge, but the gorge provided enough protection that the fog within it wasn't even disturbed. As she flew over it, she suddenly had a strange, surreal feeling, as if the train tracks below her were laid upon a thundercloud, unsupported and carrying only spectral cargo through the skies.

She shook the image from her head, wet strands of hair from her mane slapping her cheeks. Head down, she was soon racing along the tracks on the other side of the gorge.

———

She saw the train's headlights round a curve before she heard its engine over the storm, pulling up just as it barreled under her at full speed.

"What are they trying to do? Outrun the storm? They're in it!" She banked hard and reversed course, matching the speed of the train and coming in low towards the engine.

The engineer jumped so hard he hit his head on the roof of the cab as a sodden mass of feathers and hair slammed into the deck behind him, yelling, "Stop the train!"

Dash ripped the goggles from her face and squinted into the light of the boiler's firebox, her eyes unaccustomed to the brightness after so much time spent in stormy darkness. She cast about for the engineer and found him huddled in the corner, shaking and staring at her in fear.

"You've got to stop the train!" Dash shouted over the dual noise of engine and storm. Her rainbow-hued mane and tail swirled about her in the strong eddies of wind, her features lit only by the orange glow of the firebox. He stared at her, trembling.

Dash advanced, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "The track is blocked! Stop the train!"

"B-b-blocked?" he stammered, wide-eyed.

"We. Are. Going. To. Crash! Stop the train!"

Something of what she'd said finally seemed to sink into his head, and his eyes opened even wider—which she would have thought impossible. He scrambled to all fours and scampered over to the banks of levers, gauges, and knobs. Losing his hat in his haste, he began rapidly working the controls with expert speed. Finally he moved to a large lever on one side of the cab, squeezed the clutch, and hauled back on it hard.

Dash was thrown forward by the suddenness of the train's deceleration. Her shoulder banged into the firebox door, its hot metal instantly turning the soaked fabric into steam and ash. She rolled away, but not before the heat penetrated deep into her hide. It didn't hurt, but, as she glanced at the angry red burn, she knew it would soon enough.

The train shuddered and shook as the wet brakes squealed like banshees, cutting through the rattle of the wheels and the howling of the winds, setting her teeth on edge. She found what purchase she could on the rough metal floor to prevent being tossed from the cab by the strained bucking of the train.

Rain-soaked hillsides flashed past in the lights of the train—then vanished.

We're on the bridge!

She pulled herself up from the floor and thrust her head out the side window, peering into the darkness ahead. There was nothing to see, nothing even to judge their speed. She couldn't see the tracks from here, and nothing else surrounded the train but cloud and rain and darkness. The echoing squeals of the brakes seemed unending.

With nothing to see, Dash closed her eyes.

———