Summer Heat's Ongoing Travels

“Acting like a lovestruck colt, you say?”

A distant smile spread across Cliffhanger’s face as he stared at the far corner of the ceiling, straightening his neck as if there were an invisible movie camera positioned to capture a low-angle profile of his expression. Quick Study was certain that her old friend was either reliving the events of the previous night, or mentally editing faint shafts of light and slowly drifting sparkles into the scene. He might also have been trying his best to shed a single tear.

“Of course I’m acting ‘lovestruck;’ what other name could I give to the lightning strike that struck my sleeping inner colt in that tiny, smoky tavern?”

Quick Study could hear the low grr-rr-rrk of her own teeth grinding. “Listen to yourself! How are you going to write your book on this trip when you can’t even put a proper metaphor together? Hurry up and grab your bags!”

“My dear friend, I couldn’t possibly write a single word while tormented by the need to learn her name."

He didn't place the back of one hoof against his forehead, but he might as well have.

"Alas, I'm afraid I will not be joining you after all."

Quick Study felt her glare hardening until her brow started to ache from the strain. She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It didn’t help.

“I can’t believe this. You’re canceling your plans, wasting the money you paid for your ticket, and making me explain to the association that they set me up with a double room for no reason, all because of a mare that didn’t even tell you her name?”

There it was again, that ridiculous glassy-eyed look. The look of an oblivious romantic who couldn’t acknowledge the fact that he was head-over-hooves stupid in love with somepony who had probably forgotten all about him by now and was probably named Easy Mark or One Nightstand.

Cliffhanger rolled his eyes, and his tone flipped from brainlessly melodramatic to brainlessly excited. “The passion that flared between us that night revealed far more than words ever could. This is real, Quick Study! She promised me that we would meet again! If I lose this chance at true love, I may never—”

“That’s enough,” Quick Study snapped. “I have a train to catch. Go ahead and ruin your life by chasing some tart who doesn't give two horseapples about you. I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me all about it when I get back from Canterlot.”

The train was a smog-belching dinosaur that smelled like old wood despite the new carpet and thin coat of fresh paint. It also had walled compartments instead of rows of seats, and Quick Study was lucky enough to find an empty one and claim one side with her saddlebags. Then she sat on the bench herself--uncomfortably, because the cushion was thin from age--and used the moment of privacy to slump against the window and let out a growling sigh.

The cool glass felt good against her face. When the spot she was resting against got warm, she leaned back by an inch and thumped her head into a different spot. Her horn tapped against the glass with a light click, and when the train jolted into motion, it vibrated against the surface with a rattling noise.

Quick Study didn't realize that she had dozed off until she was woken by the low rumble of the door sliding open.

“Other side's empty,” Quick Study grumbled.

Outside, grassy suburbs had turned to craggy mountains, and the train was tilted in an uphill climb--they would be arriving in Canterlot soon.

The door rumbled shut again. "Sorry to intrude," said a mare's voice, from inside the compartment. "They told everyone in my car to find different seats. Figured it was best not to ask why." There was a pause. “You look like you could use a drink."

Quick Study peeled herself away from the window and righted herself against the backrest. "Do I, now?"

The pony who’d joined her was a young mare, pink, with a warm chocolate mane. She had already taken her seat, and was busy digging through a pair of reinforced, multi-sectioned bags that looked to be nearly as heavy as their owner and twice as old.

"Sure do. I know that look. Here. Trust me.”

The mare pulled a metal flask from her pack, flipped the cap open with her teeth, and extended it across the gap between seats. Quick Study picked it from her hooves with magic and levitated it closer, peering at what she had been offered as if it were a puzzle box.

“Don't worry; I don’t have Whinnybola. Unless that's why they chased us out."

“Very funny. Whinnybola is only contagious once you start displaying symptoms anyway."

Quick Study lifted the flask parallel to her muzzle as she tilted her head back--and then she coughed, hard, when the liquid within rolled over her tongue and into her throat, burning the whole way down. Drinking cider now and then at the occasional book club social hadn’t done a thing to prepare Quick Study for whatever had been in that little metal bottle.

She could hear chuckling coming from the other seat, followed by a “Feel better?”

Quick Study swallowed hard in an attempt to quench the chemical sizzle. It didn't work. Still, she forced a smile as passed the flask back; the gesture from a friendly stranger was quite welcome, even though it had been the wrong one.

“Well, no. I appreciate the thought, though. My name's Quick Study."

A nod. "Good name for an academic."

Quick Study folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I'll have you know that thirty seven percent of unicorn names are not explicitly descriptive of cutie mark identity."

That just made the other mare smile wider. “Pfft. Am I wrong?”

“I’m just saying--”

“What, is the book on your cutie mark not explicitly descriptive of your cutie mark identity either?"

“Well, for your information, as many as forty five percent of unicorn cutie marks are symbolic instead of explicit!”

Quick Study folded her arms and frowned as her fellow traveler giggled.

Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe the stranger's special talent was an infectious laugh, but eventually Quick Study couldn't help but laugh along despite trying to pout. "Well. Well, I'm only a scholar on my own time. My official title is 'Scribe and Keeper of Books.'"

"Sounds important," the mare said, only a little teasingly.

"I like to think so," Quick Study said. "They’re bringing me in for a restoration project. How about you? What’re you doing on a train to Canterlot?”

"For now, what I'm doing is getting to know another traveler on a train to Canterlot." She grinned at the way Quick Study rolled her eyes, then cleared her throat and continued. "Honest answer, though? Not sure whether I'm staying in Canterlot for a while, or just taking a pit stop on the way to Los Pegasus."

"Los Pegasus, huh? That's... very far away."

The other mare shrugged, seemingly undaunted by the prospect of crossing the entire continent by train.

"Nowhere is 'far away' once you get there. Besides, I’d been in Baltimare too long. It was starting to feel like home."

Quick Study tilted her head. “So... where's home for you, then?”

There was a brief pause.

“My home’s wherever I can find good drink and good company.” As if to illustrate, she took another pull of booze, or tried to--the bottle turned out to be empty. With a click of her tongue, she started to dig through her pack, pulling out the odd article of clothing in search of, presumably, something to refill her flask with.

Quick Study abruptly straightened as a glint of metal caught her eye.

"Oh! Is that a… fencing blade?"

“This? Yeah.” she said, pulling it from the deep bag that it had been wedged into.

The object in question was a thin metal shaft that came to a point, covered by a rubber nub. At the base was a scratched and pockmarked steel dome—perfect for protecting the hoof, but positioned in a way that would make standing on all fours impossible.

“Met a stallion in Prance who fancied himself a ‘master equuscrimeur.’” The word master had audible quotation marks around it.  “Nice enough guy. Bit self-absorbed. Wanna hold it?"

Quick Study’s voice leapt at least an octave. “Aah! You trained with a real Equuscrime master? I’ve been meaning to learn more about Equuscrime for years!” Already she could envision crossing out one of the oldest entries in her ‘learn-about-later’ notebook, and the idea made her giddy. She leaned forward to grab the weapon with her hooves instead of her magic. It was surprisingly heavy, and the guard's dull steel surface was covered with scratches, no doubt from use in many furious battles.

The already comely mare sitting across from Quick Study suddenly looked very attractive indeed.

“Do you know any of the history? Which styles did you learn? Was it anything like in The Alicorn Bride? I mean, of course it wasn’t all that much like the movies, but—“

Quick Study cut herself off only when she noticed that her would-be source of knowledge was laughing again.

“S-sorry. I get excited. I really do want to hear about it, though.”

The mare shook her head. “Nah. Never asked him that kinda stuff. I just learned enough basics so that I could play around in practice bouts. Was fun, but I'm no expert."

“Oh.”

Quick Study sagged slightly.

"Sorry. Know what, though--you should hang onto that, since you're interested."

Quick Study’s heart jumped as she looked with widened eyes at the weapon she was holding, then at the one who had given it to her, then back down to the weapon.

“I... no, I couldn’t...”

“I insist. Haven’t used it at all since then anyway.”

Quick Study turned the little metal tool over and over between her hooves. It felt both right and wrong to hold it as her own; every scar and dent was evidence of an unspoken story that Quick Study wasn’t part of.

“But... you said it was a gift from that stallion in Prance..."

“So now it's a gift from me to you. Like I said, I don’t need it, and memories weigh less than souvenirs."

“Memories weigh less than souvenirs,” Quick Study echoed, still examining her new possession. “Ha. You sound like my novelist friend when he’s feeling philosophical at three in the morning.”

"Novelist friend?"

Quick Study grimaced darkly. Talking to this stranger had been a such a welcome distraction.

“Mm. He's a really old friend, actually. Even if... even if he’s a real idiot sometimes. His name's Cliffhanger. I wouldn’t expect you to know his work."

The other mare reacted in the most unexpected way imaginable: with a sudden burst of laughter.

“Knew your name sounded familiar! Hold on. It's in here somewhere."

From the depths of one of her bags, the mare unearthed an all too familiar looking yellow hardcover.

"This is him, right? Damn if that ain't a coincidence! Haven't started reading it yet, but here, look."

The mare pulled back the front cover and leaned forward to offer the book as she had done with the flask and the blade. Quick Study craned her neck to look without touching or lifting it this time.

The book was open to the dedication page, which was supposed to read "with thanks to Quick Study and Soft Spoken, for all that they did to make this book possible." As for this copy, though, everything after 'they' had been obliterated by the start of a whole paragraph of heavy black marker. Most of it was illegible—even more so than Cliffhanger’s usual hoofwriting—but the last line made the message clear enough.

As long as Celestia’s sun burns in the day, as long as Luna’s moon guides us through the night, as long as the world gives us earth and sky, let our love never die.

-Cliffhanger

Quick Study leaned back in her seat, pressed her lips together, and placed her hooves in her lap, calling upon every lesson that Soft Spoken had ever given her on managing impulses. Breathe deep. Don't jump to conclusions. Stay rational. Irrationality is the mind-killer. Maybe this mare just met him at a book signing. Yes, that’s it. There was that book signing two weeks ago, and--

“Yeah, met him at the bar just last night! Really sweet guy, liked him a lot. Can’t hold his liquor, though.”

Soft Spoken's rules and mantras were instantly purged from Quick Study's mind.

“You! You’re her? He wouldn't shut up about you! He was a good writer until you came along and now just look at that drooling nonsense that he wrote for you! I’ve been talking to you this whole time and riding this train with you when the whole time it was you!”

Quick Study realized that she was on her hooves, and that her volume had risen to a full-scale bellow, and that she was glaring down at a seated pink pony who was leaning away with an almost comical expression of wide-eyed shock.

The pink mare’s blue eyes flicked toward the window, then the door, then back to the window. “Uh. Gonna have to slow down for me. Sounds like some kind of mistake.” She sounded confused. To Quick Study, her confusion sounded like a sham.

“You’re the one who—who did whatever you did with him last night, and you promised you’d meet him again, and here you are on a train, skipping town for Los Pegasus! He deserves better than you! Better than somepony who’s going to stomp all over his heart like that!”

Cliffhanger’s mystery mare put on a glare of her own. “Hey! I was nothing but good to him! Matter of fact, I gave him the time of his--”

The practice blade rolled off of Quick Study’s seat and onto the ground with a gentle clatter. Quick Study picked it up with magic and threw it down onto the bag it had come from, hard enough so that it bounced and nearly fell onto the floor again.

“No wonder you keep moving all the time! You had one in Prance, you had one in Baltimare, and now you're off to add Canterlot to the list, you sleazy, cheap--”

There was a loud knock at the door, and then it opened to reveal the frowning face of an attendant. "Is everything okay in here?"

The object of Quick Study’s fury, who had been trying to avoid eye contact, immediately looked up with a charming smile as if nothing more serious had happened than a dispute over seat space. She reached for her bags and started to close them up. "Yeah, we’re all good in here, I was just about to--"

Quick Study fired a searing, lethal, evil glare at the attendant.

"We are perfectly fine. Now GET OUT."

The door handle glowed briefly, and then the compartment’s door slammed shut with a BANG that left Quick Study’s own ears ringing. For a moment, she just stood facing the door, trying not to tremble with anger.

“Nice try,” she said icily.

The reply came in an insultingly disarming lilt. “Look, I’ve seen enough to know for a fact that he's fine. Even if it seems like he’s going to have trouble...”

Quick Study whirled, reared up, and all but exploded with anger. "Don’t you dare tell me that you know more than I do about my foalhood friend!"

“I didn’t say that. I just meant--”

“You think you know about him and ‘getting over it?’ Well, I know that the last time a mare dumped him, he didn’t do anything but listen to sad songs for months. He wrote poetry that even he’s embarrassed to show anypony. And he still avoids so much as walking past the cafe where he met her. Two years later."

Now the other mare was the one wearing a grimace. "Everyone has to deal with--you know, with loss, and painful memories. That's just his way of showing it. His way of dealing with it, you know?"

“And just what does that have to do with you toying with my friend and then walking away like nothing happened?"

The mystery mare didn’t reply to that, except by staring out the window while Quick Study glared at her.

"Well..."

A whistle sounded from the front of the train as it started to slow down.

“I’m going to send him a telegram saying that you'll meet him at the park next to the library. Four o'clock tomorrow."

Silence again. Outside the window, the platform was coming into view.

“Did you hear me? I said, you are going to meet him at the park and fix this.”

Quick Study thought she saw the mare's shoulders move in a sigh.

"Yeah, I will. Promise.” She was still looking out the window.

“Really. Is that the same kind of ‘promise’ that--”

The train came to a stop, and the whistle sounded again. Before Quick Study could get another word in, she was alone in the compartment.

It took a few moments of and seething for the realization to strike: she hadn't gotten that mare's name.

At four o'clock the next day, a pink mare with a red-brown mane was standing on a platform and waiting for a train.

The familiar rumble of an incoming engine didn't give anything like the feeling of relief that it usually did. After all, the last train ride she'd taken had included being trapped with an angry and persistent scholar-librarian who refused to relent on something that was supposed to have stayed in Baltimare instead of following her all the way to Canterlot.

Well. But now the train was here, and with it, a chance to put that mess behind her as well.

She had made a promise, after all.

The train screeched to a halt and the doors opened, letting out a load of passengers. Cliffhanger, that was his name--he was the first one off the train and onto the platform. He found her eyes almost immediately, and all but sprinted the short distance between them.

"It's... it's you! It's really you!"

"Sure is," said Summer Heat, forcing out a sad smile. “C'mon. Let's go somewhere we can talk."