Upon Floating Clouds

Birds sang, and ominous, towering pines hung over Soarshine's head. The occasional call of a coyote rang throughout the forest from time to time, and the scampering of tiny mice feet echoed over the old, thick branches. Soarshine walked down the faded path. She knew one pony alone who could fix her wing: Zecora. Zecora had potions of anything you could imagine. It didn't take long for her to reach the hut where Zecora lived, and already she could smell strange scents wafting through the air. The door was already open. Zecora was stirring at her caludron. She occasionally dropped some herbs and assorted plants into the mixture, chanting something unhearable as she went.

"Um, Zecora, miss?"

Zecora turned around to face the teenage pegasus.

"Why do you want to see me, young pegasus?"

Soarshine slowly turned so Zecora could see her wingless side.

"Ah, I see you need your wing fixed. This brew of mine may do the trick."