Sunset Shimmer stepped out of the kaleidoscopic light show, still laughing at the astoundment on Twilight Sparkle’s face as she left the human world. Her yellow hooves touched the cold dais upon which sat the mirror portal linking the two worlds. The first step into Equestria always proved to be a doozy, and this time was no exception. Sunset’s knees wobbled in their readjustment to being connected to hooves instead of feet.
Fortunately, a purple hoof rested on Sunset’s shoulders and guided her down the steps; a second hoof joined the first as it wrapped Sunset into a hug.
Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Equestria, smooshed her cheek against Sunset’s. “It’s so good to see you again!”
“Twilight, you saw me a month ago,” the side of Sunset’s mouth that wasn’t being flattened said. At least, it had been a month on her end. Twilight had finally gotten Sunset’s messages about needing help during the Friendship Games and rushed over… only to meet her human counterpart in a very awkward and stilted conversation.
She finally released Sunset. “I know. I just meant, it’s nice to see you as a pony again. And, I don’t know—” Twilight blushed “—I get a little more sentimental around the holidays.”
Sunset looked up at the library in which the mirror portal resided. Decorative lights shining green, gold, red, and purple dangled from the higher shelves. Snow fell from the ceiling but never touched the ground, disappearing without a trace just over Sunset’s head. “More sentimental?” she said as she walked along the edge of the library. “I didn’t think that was possible for you.”
Twilight crossed the library in a single flap and lightly nudged Sunset’s shoulder. “Hush, you.” Both of them shared a giggle as Twilight pushed the doors open and led Sunset into the hall. Lights and holly coated the crystal pillars, and snow fell from the ceiling here as well. “I’m really glad you’re here though. There’s so many things I want to talk to you about, what with all the magic popping up in the human world—and those geodes you found at camp!” She sighed dreamily. “But I’m also really happy you’re going to spend Hearth’s Warming with your family.”
Sunset rubbed her cheek as a smile stretched over her face. As much as she would love to gush and speculate the possibilities of new magic with Twilight, Sunset wanted to catch the first train to Canterlot. After the Friendship Games and almost losing her access to Equestria, Sunset had rushed home to spend a day with them. Another month away, and Sunset could barely contain her excitement.
After years of being apart, her family was going to spend Hearth’s Warming all together in the house Sunset grew up in. Her parents still weren’t ‘together’ but Sunset held onto the foalish hope that the magic of the holidays might be the push they need to fully reconcile. She was fully prepared to meddle if she had to!
Twilight led Sunset into the great hall where a large Hearth’s Warming Tree stood proudly decorated in the center. Presents were already piled at its base. While Sunset looked forward to going home, she did feel bad about missing Twilight’s Hearth Warming party; half of Ponyville was due to attend.
Sunset’s ears twitched, and she looked about the hall, scanning the balcony. “Where’s Starlight? You’ve written so much about her, I was kinda hoping to say hi.”
Twilight frowned. “I don’t know. She’s been acting a little… distant recently. I’ll have to talk with her soon. I’d hate to see her sad at the party.”
As they approached the front door, Sunset lifted a crimson scarf from her saddlebag and wrapped it around her neck; Twilight pushed the door open, letting in a blast of cold air. Real snow fell from the sky, making it all the way to the ground and leaving a fine layer of white over the roads and fields. Sunset hopped down the steps and stuck her tongue out to catch snowflakes.
“I can tell you’re excited,” Twilight said with a giggle.
Sunset rolled her snow-coated tongue back in her mouth. “You would be, too, if you had a string of holidays like mine.” She involuntarily winced, remembering her last three Christmases in the human world. Two of her miserable experiences had been her own fault, while the last one had been brought about by three jealous girls. She prayed spending a holiday at home would break the cycle.
They strolled through town, admiring the giant candy canes set up in the square, and how the snow on the rooftops made Ponyville look like a collection of gingerbread houses. Sunset gave Twilight a detailed account of her trip to Camp Everfree and the magic that had taken place there. Twilight listened with giddy interest, providing a list of hypotheses when Sunset finished.
“My strongest idea is that maybe there’s some version of the Tree of Harmony in the human world that’s connected to ours. The tree sensed an increased frequency of danger and produced magic to help you combat it.”
“That’s one idea,” Sunset said hesitantly. “But now I’m just thinking, what could be coming that’s so bad, a tree had to give us superpowers? Well, it gave my friends superpowers—I can just feel emotions and see memories. Handy, but not exactly what I’d call ‘super.’”
Twilight gave her an encouraging smile. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re their leader. They look to you for guidance. That’s a pretty important power.”
Sunset blushed under the praise, her face warm against the cold wind. They arrived at the train station with the midday express to Canterlot set to arrive in a few minutes. With thick gray clouds overhead, it was hard to tell the time.
“I hope you have a good time with your family,” Twilight said, embracing Sunset.
“Thanks.” Sunset nuzzled her neck. “I hope you have a good party.”
“You know Pinkie. As long as she’s involved, any party is a good one.”
The whistle of an oncoming train drowned out their giggling. The Friendship Express pulled into the station with a hiss of steam as it came to a stop. Once the passengers got off, Sunset gave Twilight one last hug and jumped on. They waved at each other through the window until the train pulled out of the station.
Sunset climbed into her seat and spent five minutes trying to get comfortable. She could never figure out why sitting down as a pony always took so much effort after she’d been away so long. In the end she gave up and sat down like a human, leaning her back against the wall and closing her eyes. In the darkness she saw the faces of her friends back in the other world.
Ever since she had made amends with her family and Princess Celestia, Sunset struggled with a life altering decision: did she remain in the human world, or did she return to Equestria permanently?
She couldn’t keep jumping back and forth due to the time difference. Her friends were going to graduate soon and move on with their lives. Sunset thought that would make the decision easier. But now, with the discovery of the geodes and their new powers, maybe Sunset was supposed to stay in the other world and defend it.
“Urgh.” Sunset rubbed her eyes. “No more thinking about this. Vacation time.” She turned her thoughts to her mother’s wildberry crepes, and her father belting out holiday carols while she and Spitfire argued over who would get to put the star atop the tree this year. Her frustrated grimace melted into a smile.
The train pulled into Canterlot Station an hour later, and Sunset burst from the doors and onto the slippery platform, quickly casting a traction spell to stop herself from sliding into a pillar. Only after did she see the caution sign.
Canterlot in winter held an even greater air of regality compared to the other seasons. The normally proud and majestic city received an extra layer of extravagance when the snow fell and decorations went up. Green wreaths and red holly accented the usual purple and gold. Bells hung from lanterns, ribbons spiraling up every column, and a fully decorated tree sat on every corner.
Sunset meandered around the station for a few minutes, admiring the scenery and making sure she didn’t miss her mother or Spitfire. While she was glad her sister hadn’t been there to see her near collision, she had hoped somepony would be here to greet her. When it became evident no one would come, she started down the road. All the snow had been pushed to one side or the other, where foals had used it to build armies of snowponies.
Regular ponies trotted about, smiles in their eyes and songs on their lips. Store windows were lit up and filled with holiday dresses and toys. Bells jingled in the towers overhead, sending crystal chimes swirling down with the snowflakes. Every which way Sunset turned her head, the scene looked like a Hearth’s Warming greeting card.
She moved away from the bustling city center to the quiet suburbs on the eastern side closer to the mountain. Neat rows of houses rose up on either side of her, their well-maintained lawns covered in snow and hoofprints. The owners of those prints—colts and fillies freshly released from their schooling—pranced about the neighborhood, flinging snowballs at one another with their magic.
Sunset turned a corner and moved down to the third house on the block, a tan two-story building with a dark brown roof. An old porch swing rocked back and forth in the wind. Sunset frowned at the sight of her mother’s front garden, the flowers picked and their bushes dying in the winter cold. Such was nature. She walked up the steps, feeling a new sturdiness in them. Dad must have put some work in.
Splat!
A cold, hard mass smacked against the back of her head and dripped into her scarf. She shuddered as the slush ran down her neck.
“All right!” She swung her head around, grabbing a wad of snow in her magic. “Which of you half-pints—”
Rancorous laughter came from just over Sunset’s head. She ran off the porch and looked onto the roof to see a fiery maned pegasus rolling on her back.
“Score one for the home team!”
Sunset lobbed her snowball, but the mare just deflected with her wing. “Come on, Spits, I haven’t even been home two seconds!”
“Consider it a homecoming gift.” Spitfire grinned mischievously at her. She jumped off the roof, a duffel bag in one hoof, and landed next to Sunset. “Sup, dodo?”
Sunset eyed the bag. “Are you just getting in now?”
Spitfire nodded. “Yeah. We had our last show before our holiday break. I was actually on my way to see if you were at the station yet, and lo and behold, I saw you making your way here. So I followed and decided to plan a little sneak attack.” She got into a crouch and gave a predatory wiggle of her butt.
All Sunset could do was roll her eyes. “So happy to see you, too.”
Spitfire wrapped a hoof around Sunset’s neck and pulled her into a hug; Sunset was only grateful she didn’t get a noogie. “Of course I’m happy to see my baby sister. You keep having these crazy adventures in another dimension; I wanna hear more about them!”
Sunset extricated herself from Spitfire’s chokehold. “Sure, I’ll give you the details while I put the star on the tree.” She skipped up the steps to the front door.
“Oh that’s so cute how you think just because you’ve been gone a few years, it’s your turn.” Spitfire pulled the house key out her bag. “You could have been gone a century, and I’d still fight you hoof and wing for that star.”
“Both of which pale in comparison to my magic,” Sunset said proudly.
Spitfire stuck her tongue out as the door swung open. “Mom, your favorite daughter is home! And Sunset’s here too!”
Sunset punched her on the shoulder. Stepping inside, her eyes gravitated to the bare tree next to the fireplace, devoid of stockings. None of the garland or holiday ornaments had been set up, and thanks to Spitfire’s snowball attack, Sunset only just noticed there hadn’t been a wreath hanging on the door. The only holiday cheer the house sported was the red and gold patterned linen on the table.
“Helloooo?” Sunset called. “Mom?”
“Maybe she went out to get baking supplies?” Spitfire suggested, dumping her things on the couch.
From the second floor descended a short-maned pegasus, his once vibrant red mane turning gray. His muscles sagged a little from disuse, and he wore a short beard on his face. He smiled wearily at the mares before him. “There’s my girls.”
“Dad!” they both shouted, rushing to meet him.
“Shhhh!” He held a hoof to his lips. “Keep your voices down. Your mother… isn’t feeling so hot right now.”
Spitfire fumbled in the air, trying to halt her momentum before she crashed into him. “What? Is she all right?”
Zephyr Spark grimaced, and that was all the answer Sunset needed. Her blood chilled in her veins, and her mind conjured up the worst-case scenarios. It wasn’t fair. They had just been reunited; she couldn’t die now! Sunset still had so much time to make up for!
Her father placed a hoof on her shoulder, urging Sunset to meet his eyes. “Don’t panic,” he said firmly. “I’m sure this is the worst of it. Once she gets some rest and medicine, she’ll be fine. I called for a doctor not too long ago—he should be here soon.”
Though his words held a wealth of conviction, Sunset could see the fear and doubt in his eyes. It spread to her, and she was sure Spitfire had caught it as well. Any words she might have said died in her throat. All she could do was nod in agreement to her father’s attempt at placating their fears.
“Can we see her?” Spitfire asked, her voice scratchier than usual.
Zephyr nodded and led them upstairs to the master bedroom. The lights were off, blinds drawn, leaving just a sliver of winter light to peek through the gap. Dawn Glider lay in bed, the covers drawn up to her neck. A cloth sat upon her forehead, soaking up the sweat running down her colorless face. Despite the thick blankets, she shook like an autumn leaf. Scattered about the floor were mottled feathers.
Sunset approached the bedside, trembling with every step. Her mother’s cheeks were sunken, and puffy bags sat under her eyes. She had never looked so frail. “Mom?” Sunset croaked.
Dawn stirred and squinted her eyes, bloodshot and watery. Her mouth slowly stretched into a pained smile. “Sunset, Spitfire…” She broke into a vicious cough that shook her entire body, broken only by desperate wheezing.
Sunset bit hard on her lip, trying to detract from the pain in her heart. When her mother’s fit finally calmed, Zephyr hurried a glass of water to her mouth. She drank only a quarter of it before shaking her head.
Dawn smiled at them like nothing had happened. “It’s so nice to see my girls together,” she rasped. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Don’t worry. Mommy just has a bad cold. I’ll be fine in a little bit…” Her light, rhythmic breathing told them she had drifted to sleep.
Zephyr herded them out and swung the door, leaving it open just a crack. He ran a hoof down his face, and Sunset could see he had acquired bags of his own.
“How long has she been like this?” Spitfire asked.
“About a week. I came to visit her and she was coughing and losing some of her feathers. A few days later, she was like this.” He put on another brave face. “But she’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just a winter bug.”
“Dad, she’s lost most of her feathers,” Sunset said pointedly. “This isn’t just some bug.”
A sharp knock on the door cut off Zephyr’s response. He zipped over and threw it open, ushering in a red unicorn stallion with a dark brown mane dusted with snow. He shook himself and his medical bag off over the welcome mat as best as he could. “Rambunctious kids got me with a snowball. The youth today…” He sniffed and pulled his coat around himself. “I’m Doctor Pulse. Judging by your relatively healthy faces, I’m guessing the patient is elsewhere?” He smirked at his own dry humor.
Sunset and Spitfire shared identical side-glances, assuring the other they also wanted to toss him back into the snow. If their father shared the sentiment, he did a good job at hiding it, leading the doctor upstairs with a hospitable smile.
“Come on.” Spitfire waved a hoof toward the closet under the stairs. “Let’s finish decorating the house. You know how much Mom loves to go all out for Hearth’s Warming.”
“Yeah. It’ll help her feel better once she gets up.” Sunset spared one more look up the stairs before helping Spitfire pull the decoration boxes out from the closet. They set them up in the living room, four boxes side by side. Sunset opened one up, waving away the must collected over a year of storage. She levitated out the holiday quilt that her mother always draped over the couch. “Hey, Spits, how about a race?”
Spitfire looked through the door wreath in her hooves. “You want to race me?”
“We each take a box.” Sunset pointed to the outer two. The inner ones were everything that would go on the tree. “Whoever finishes with theirs first gets to put the star on the tree.”
“Oho, you’re so on. No complaining when you lose though, ‘kay?”
“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing.” Sunset lifted a platoon of porcelain pegasi to accompany her quilt. “Ready? Go!”
Spitfire jetted to the front door, threw it open, and tossed the wreath up before zipping back to gather the porch lights. Sunset set the quilt over the sofa, then arranged the angelic looking pegasi on the mantle, setting them in between the family pictures. She grabbed the four stockings and pinned them above the fireplace.
A gust of cold air hit her as Spitfire came back inside and went to work on setting the dining room table, pulling out the cinnamon-scented candles and plastic pine cones. Her nimble hooves grabbed another roll of garland and ran it along the tops of the cabinets, the mirror in the living room, and along the stair banister.
With two flicks of her horn, Sunset replaced the curtains on the kitchen window with white ones stitched with blue snowflakes. She set up the mini light-up Hearth’s Warming tree on the hall table, then rushed over and placed the red and green rug under the tree. As she poked her head up, she called, “Finished!” the exact same moment Spitfire did.
She twisted around and pointed a hoof at her hovering sister. “Are you sure you got everything?”
Spitfire swooped down, grabbed her box, and flipped it onto Sunset’s head. “I dunno, did I?”
Sunset tossed it off. “I blame being rusty at magic. I totally could have done that faster if I had an extra day to practice.”
“Excuses, excuses. I’m willing to concede we tied. So, how are we gonna settle this?”
“Samurai swords to the death?”
Spitfire tapped her chin. “Tempting…” Her ears flicked, and she turned toward the stairs.
Dr. Pulse descended, the lines on his gaunt face hardening as he spotted the mares. The layer of frost lining Sunset’s stomach bit deep. “Well, I already tried to beat around the bush with your father, but there’s no nicer way of saying it.” He paused like he was still considering a way but shrugged. “Your mother has Pegasitis. It’s—”
“Extremely rare and always fatal,” Sunset said, her voice getting softer with every word.
The doctor looked at her with a mix of astoundment and annoyance. “Well, someone in this house is well read. Or morbidly curious. Yes, all the symptoms check out. She’s hung on surprisingly well so far, but this disease is known to move fast.”
“Hang on!” Spitfire landed and tossed her head back and forth between Sunset and Doctor Pulse. “Somepony explain to me what this is?”
He raised an expectant eyebrow at Sunset. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Pegasitis used to be a common disease long, long ago when Equestria was still divided into three tribes. The muscles experience rapid atrophy, which in turn dries up the oil in pegasi feathers, leading to molting.” He heaved a sigh. “Eventually, it attacks the lungs, creating a fluid that fills them until the patient suffocates.” His voice took on a dry tone again. “Some pegasi thought it was a curse from the unicorns. Over the years, it simply stopped happening. This is the first case I’ve seen in my career, and none of my older colleagues have seen it either.”
Spitfire pushed into his personal space, her wings flaring up. “Well, is there a cure?” Her voice bordered on hysterical.
“There is,” he said slowly, taking a step back. “The Ice Iris flower contains the necessary herbal properties to make a cure.”
“Then give her some!”
Doctor Pulse closed his eyes and pressed his ears back. “We don’t have any.”
Spitfire’s wings drooped toward the floor. When she spoke, her words had a wintery bite to them. “What do you mean you don’t have any?”
“I mean we don’t have a cure on hoof. The Ice Iris flower itself is extremely sensitive, growing only in its natural habitat: the Crystal Mountains. Even replications of the habitat can’t get it to grow properly. Most of its byproducts are the same way. So no, we don’t have stocks of medicine for a disease that rarely happens, from a flower that won’t grow.”
“And what’s stopping you from going up to the mountains and finding the flower there?”
“Blizzards, dangerous creatures, and its overall rarity,” he said, flicking his tail in agitation. “Even if we started an expedition now, I couldn’t guarantee you would see any sort of results until the start of next year.”
The bite left Spitfire’s voice, leaving just powdery snow. “So that’s it? Mom’s just going to…”
He looked at them with eyes that had gone through this experience too many times, yet were sorry all the same. “She should make it through Hearth’s Warming Day but… I don’t think she’ll see the new year. Truly, I’m sorry.” Picking up his medical bag, he gave a bow of his head, and excused himself out the door.
The soft click of the lock sounded miles off to Sunset. Sometime during the conversation, she had fallen onto her haunches, and now couldn’t find the strength to stand up again. She felt like she had been left out in the snow too long. Fragments of thoughts littered the empty landscape of her mind.
Mom’s sick. No cure. Won’t see the new year. This would be the last holiday she would spend with her mother. With her family as a whole, unbroken unit.
“Spitfire.” Her voice creaked like the wood on the front porch.
Spitfire turned her head, showing off a gaze hot enough to melt the frozen north. “I’m going up there. I’m going to find this plant, get a cure, and save Mom.”
Her sister’s heated glare was enough to jumpstart her body again. Sunset stood at attention, ears following suit. “Hold on, you can’t go up there alone.”
“I’ll be quick. Get up there, nab the flower, come back.”
Sunset furrowed her brow. “You don’t even know what an Ice Iris looks like. Dr. Pulse is right, that flower is rare, plus it blends in extremely well with the snow. And you wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”
Spitfire marched toward her, a challenge in her step. “So what, you think you can find it fast enough?”
“No, but—and here’s a crazy idea—let’s work together and find it!”
Spitfire stopped her advance and blinked, like she was coming out of a daze. “Right. Yeah. It’s just, I can fly and you can’t. Getting there is going to take forever by train. You can’t just draw me a map and a picture?”
Sunset shook her head obstinately. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You heard what he said. Blizzards and monsters; this is too dangerous for you to go alone. Plus, this is our mother. We should be doing this together.” Sunset held her hoof out.
Spitfire looked down at it, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Sunset thought she was going to say ‘no.’ Then, a begrudging smirk pulled across her lips. “Always gotta be sentimental now, don’t you? But you’re right. It might not be as fast, but it will be safer. Just try not to slow me down too much, okay?” She bumped her hoof against Sunset’s.
“Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.” Sunset looked toward the stairs. “Now we just have to tell Dad.”
Author's Note
Set in Season 6, in a slightly different canon where the events of "Rarity Investigates!" played out a little differently. Mainly, there was no mention of Ice Iris or their mother being sick.
Zephyr paced in front of the bedroom door, his face scrunching and unscrunching at every about-face. To Sunset’s surprise, there had been no shouting from him whatsoever; of course, that could have been out of courtesy for her sleeping mother. He ushered them out the room and proceeded to pace.
“What if I went, and you two… stayed here and took care of your mother?” His tone wavered, a sure sign he knew his daughters wouldn’t agree to that. Sure enough, as he looked up at their resolute faces, he heaved a submissive sigh. “I just don’t like the idea of sending my girls out to someplace so dangerous.”
“Dad, relax,” Spitfire said. “We’ve done dangerous things plenty of times before.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or advertently send you into harm’s way.”
Sunset let a few sparks fly from her horn. “We’ll watch each other’s backs the entire time. My magic and her wings? We’ll be back before you know it.”
Zephyr ran a hoof against his beard and closed his eyes. “You’re both adults. Technically, I can’t stop you.” His eyes opened and he looked at them with the plea of a desperate father. “Just be careful. Flower or no flower, come back to me.”
“We will,” Sunset said firmly. “Just keep Mom… until then.” The absence of the word hurt more than if Sunset had spoke it aloud.
“If we hurry, we can catch the evening train out to the Crystal Empire,” Spitfire said. “The sooner we leave, the better.” She gave their father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be back by Hearth’s Warming Eve. Count on it.”
Four days, not counting the time it would take to get to the Crystal Mountains. Sunset admired Spitfire’s drive, but it would take more than that to pull off this holiday miracle. They broke off to their rooms, Sunset grabbing a saddle bag and packing it with any quick essentials she could think to bring. She rummaged through her bookcase, finding an atlas of the Crystal Mountain region. It was dated by about fifteen years, but it was better than nothing; if they wanted to catch the train, they couldn’t afford a trip to the library.
She cantered downstairs and filled her bag with packets of dried oats and a loaf of bread. So much for enjoying home cooked meals. She met Spitfire by the front door and wrapped her red scarf tight around her neck.
“Ready?”
Spitfire adjusted the goggles atop her head and slung on a scarf to match Sunset’s. “Ready.”
Zephyr saw them out the house, kissing both his daughters on the forehead before they walked into the chilly evening. “Be careful,” he stressed. “If anything goes wrong, just come home.”
Sunset tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong and just nodded her head.
******
The neighborhood had fallen silent, asleep under the dim sky and a blanket of snow. Hoofprints of colts and fillies could still be seen weaving through the streets. Thousands of tiny lights popped to life across the rooftops and shone like illuminated gemstones.
Neither sister spoke on their trip back to the train station. Sunset’s ears would twitch whenever they caught wind of distant laughter or singing. Then the silence would return, reviving the tension that had dogged them since they left the house.
Somepony had dried the station platform off, for Sunset didn’t have to cast another traction spell to keep from sliding about. A hoof-full of ponies milled about, dressed in winter cloaks and carrying bags of gifts beside them.
Spitfire planted herself right in front of the yellow warning line, fluffing her feathers every few seconds; Sunset wanted to say something, but knew how hypocritical it would be if she told Spitfire not to worry. The seed of uncertainty had already sprouted, and its vines coiled around Sunset’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She had pulled off miracles before, but none of them had ever been so personal. None of them had such a merciless time limit with a measurable fatality if they failed.
One life. Their mother’s life.
Sunset took in a gulp of frigid air to stop the vines from stretching further, then took another as she reached out and put a hoof on Spitfire’s back, making her jump.
“Try to relax, Spits. We can do this.” Cliché though it sounded, it was the best Sunset could think of that didn’t sound preachy or patronizing.
“I know we can do this,” Spitfire said with her usual confidence. Her wings fidgeted again. “I hope we can do this…”
“We can. We just have to do what we do best.”
Spitfire tilted her head. “Fight and argue until one of us snaps and does something she’ll regret?”
It took a second for Sunset to pick up the dry humor in her sister’s voice; she punched Spitfire on the shoulder. “Be awesome. With all the things we’ve both accomplished, this should be a piece of cake.” Saying the words aloud gave Sunset a spark of confidence that ignited the vines and allowed her a little breathing room.
Spitfire looked down the track. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “you’re right. We got this.”
Sunset had hoped for a more confident answer, but a loud whistle blew before she could press one out of Spitfire. The train rolled out of the mountain tunnel and pulled into the station, a cloud of steam billowing from its smokestack. The sisters boarded, finding it sparse with passengers; they took the back compartment and had it all to themselves.
As the train descended the mountain before heading north, the setting sun broke through the clouds, its light against the snow-covered world blinding to Sunset. Her eyes sighed in relief when the train entered the tunnel.
Spitfire made herself comfortable on the bench. “So, tell me something about the other world. Something that doesn’t involve monsters or magic. What’s it like?”
Sunset settled in across from her, going through her slow ritual of trying to find a comfortable sitting position in her old body. She settled on her stomach and tucked her legs beneath herself, but knew it wouldn’t last long. “Well, it has a lot in common with this world. And I mean more than just having parallel versions of everyone here. They have similar holidays and traditions, place a high value on friendship, that kind of thing. But they don’t have any magic. At least they didn’t until—” She caught herself and cleared her throat. “Until recently. They rely a lot more on science and math and have come up with some crazy inventions.”
“Like those ‘car’ things you wrote about?”
“Yeah. And then, they have things called ‘airplanes.’ They’re like airships, only made of metal and you can’t move around as much.”
“Pfft, that sounds boring.”
Sunset fidgeted her shoulders. “I’ve never been on one. But the coolest thing they have in that world is the internet!”
“In-ter-net?” Spitfire asked, enunciating each syllable.
For the next twenty minutes, Sunset explained with as much detail as she could the technological marvels of the computer and the internet, sitting up and gesturing with her hooves.
Spitfire bobbed her head along in interest and astoundment. “So, this thing’s like a magic encyclopedia that can tell you anything?”
“Yeah, that’s one way to describe it. But, a lot of people just use it to post videos about themselves or their cats.”
“Why?”
“Humans are weird.”
The train snaked down the mountainside, weaving its way in and out of tunnels until it leveled out on the snow-covered plains and headed north. They traded stories while watching the winter wonderland rush by, frost creeping across the windows until the outside world resembled nothing more than a blurry blue photo. Sunset chronicled Spitfire of the more mundane things she and her friends got into, while Spitfire told her of Wonderbolt life, including Rainbow’s first official stunt show.
“That sounds like a disaster,” Sunset said when her sister got to the part about the cotton candy.
Spitfire threw her head back and laughed. “It was! And it was all over a dumb nickname! I can’t believe it bugged her that much and she didn’t say anything. In hindsight, it’s hilarious, but believe me, I was mad when it was going down.”
Sunset changed positions for the fourth time during their conversation, hanging her front legs over the seat. “Rainbow Crash isn’t even that bad. I’ve called you way worse things than that.”
“That’s what I told her.” Some of the mirth left her eyes, and her shoulders fell. “I mean, tradition is tradition, but I guess we should have made it more clear it was all in good fun. She could have also told us that was a childhood trauma for her.”
“Rainbow isn’t one to share feelings voluntarily,” Sunset said with a nostalgic smile. “In any world.”
The transition from evening to night was hardly noticeable, told only by the compartment lanterns turning on. Sunset put her horn to the window and applied a simple heat spell, melting the frost off the other side. Outside, shadows of evergreen trees flickered by the windows, their details lost in the night. They were already near Vanhoover.
Sunset stifled a yawn. It felt nice to just talk with Spitfire without a journal between them; even before their schism, it wasn’t something they did frequently. The simple act of talking kept the anxiety at bay, yet in its place, Sunset felt a twisted sense of guilt. How dare she be laughing while her mother was dying! She was on a mission!
But if she didn’t laugh, if she didn’t try to carry on like they weren’t on borrowed time, she would freeze up and cry. They had to relax just a little bit. There was no sense in fretting now when they were at the mercy of the train’s speed.
“So, should we be dumb and head out to the mountains tonight?” Spitfire asked, following Sunset’s gaze out the window. “Or wait until morning?”
Sunset’s breath fogged up the glass, and she traced her hoof in it. “The irrational part of me wants to say, ‘let’s just go for it!’ But we should at least wait until we can actually see where we’re going.”
“Fair enough. Sooo, did you bring enough money for a hotel?”
“You’re the Wonderbolt. Shouldn’t you be loaded?”
“Normally, you’d be right. But my bit pouch wasn’t the first thing I thought of when packing for the Crystal Mountains.”
“And I just came back from another dimension. Yeah, I’m swimming in bits.”
Spitfire leaned back into her chair and crossed her hooves. “Then I guess we’re roughing it. In the snow.”
Sunset pulled her face away from the window. “Not necessarily. The Crystal Heart keeps the snow out of the empire all year round. We’ll have something green to sleep on tonight. Better enjoy it while it lasts.”
The train pulled into the station an hour later, steam hissing as it came to a final stop. Stepping outside, Sunset felt not the bitter bite of winter, but a refreshing, brisk springtime breeze. The sky overhead was clear, and a crescent moon smiled down on them.
Instead of heading toward the glittering spire and the crystal-hewn buildings like everypony else, Sunset and Spitfire headed south, crossing the green pastures that bordered the city. When they crested the hill before the two crystal towers that marked the edge of the Crystal Heart’s forcefield, Sunset stopped and dropped her saddlebags.
“Get cozy,” she said, pulling out two bed rolls and blankets. She closed her eyes and saw the teal glow from her horn from behind her eyelids. A warm bubble expanded at the tip, then detached itself with a small pop. Sunset looked upon her handiwork, a blue orb of fire floating between her and Spitfire. “A fire bubble,” she said, seeing Spitfire’s curious eyes. “A substitute if you don’t have a real fire.”
Spitfire raised a hoof to it. “Not as warm as a real fire.”
“That’s why it’s a substitute.” Sunset spread her bed roll out and collapsed onto it. This wasn’t how she’d expected her first day home to end. Decorating the tree, baking gingerbread ponies, a snowball fight in the backyard. Stargazing on a bed of grass on their way to find a rare flower was low on her list of ways her vacation could go. Her eyes picked out the constellations native to Equestria, like the Bell of Tambelon, and the Star Swirl, named after the great wizard himself.
Spitfire crawled under her blanket and settled on her stomach, watching the mote of fire bob up and down like it was riding a gentle wave. “So, what else can you tell me about this flower?”
Sunset drew from her studies of rare Equestrian flora. “It only grows in a place called Frost Valley, which is in the eastern part of the mountain range. Like I said before, they aren’t the most common thing to find. It’s winter though, so there should be some in bloom. But they’re white, and they barely raise their petals above the ground, making them a chore to find.”
“Of course,” Spitfire said dryly. “Because why would anything be easy for us?” She rested her head and closed her eyes. “Well, get some sleep. We’re moving out at first light.”
“Yeah.” Sunset laid flat on her stomach, spreading her legs in all directions. Good enough. She watched her ball of fire drift around in a hypnotic fashion. The mesmerizing blue light lured her into a slumbering embrace. Guess asking for an easy holiday was a little too much.
******
Spitfire tucked the end of the ribbon into the folds of the tree, then flew back to admire her handiwork: golden bulbs and silver bells, ribbons and pearls, hoof-made ornaments crafted by Spitfire herself, a pair of wings made of clay, a ring of multicolored beads, and a Wonderbolts insignia painted orange and gold.
“Spitfire, you did such a good job!” Dawn gushed, putting her last ornament on. “Look how pretty our tree looks!”
“Twee!” Sunset said with a happy giggle. From her place in front of the couch, she reached her tiny hooves for the shiny baubles near the top. “Twee!”
Zephyr came and scooped her up, bouncing her up and down as she squealed with laughter. “You wanna put the star on the top this year, Sunny?”
“Hey!” Spitfire pressed a hoof to her chest. “I always put the star on the tree!”
Dawn took a red-and-silver box out from amidst the other decoration cases. “You have to learn to share, Spitfire,” she said patiently. “You put the star on last year. Sunset gets to put it on this year.”
Spitfire huffed and crossed her hooves. “She’s gonna break it.”
“Have a little faith in your baby sister.” Dawn pulled out the golden six-pointed star from the box and brought it over to Sunset. “Okay, sweetie. Hold onto it very tight and put it on top of the tree.”
“Star!” Sunset took it in her hooves, then immediately put her mouth on one of the tips. Spitfire rolled her eyes in an condescending fashion.
Zephyr flew Sunset up to the tip of the tree and gently pulled the star from her mouth. “Go on, Sunny, put the star on.”
Sunset looked from the star to the tree with wide-eyed curiosity. Blue sparks fizzled and popped from her horn, and a light glow enveloped the star. It wobbled just out of Sunset’s grasp, then shot up toward the ceiling, bounced toward the wall, then hit the ground, breaking into two even pieces. Sunset clapped her hooves and burbled in delight.
“See?” Spitfire picked up the two halves. “I told you she’d break it!”
Dawn floated over and took one of the pieces. “It’s still usable,” she said with a hesitant smile. “It just needs some glue.” She took the other half and hurried to the kitchen, leaving Spitfire to release an irritated sigh.
Last year the holiday had been ruined by Sunset waking up in the middle of the night on Hearth’s Warming Eve and crying nonstop for hours. This year, she had broken their star! Adding to it, Spitfire was sure her present count had shrunk ever since Sunset had come.
‘You have to share’ and ‘be nice to your baby sister’ were phrases Spitfire heard a lot now. She was already sharing her parents, what more did they want? She crossed her hooves and huffed again, wishing it could just be the three of them like before.
******
Morning’s first light broke over the hills and forced Sunset to bury her face into the grass. Five more minutes, Mom.
Mom! Her head snapped up, and she found Spitfire stretching her wings and neck out.
“Oh darn,” she said, pausing to yawn. “I was hoping to use the bucket.”
“You’re hilarious.” Sunset stood and rolled her neck out. With a flick of her horn, the mats rolled up and placed themselves in the saddlebags.
“Okay, I’m pretty sure those shouldn’t be able to fit in there.”
Sunset set the bags on her back. “Spatial compression spell. It’s sort of like a pocket dimension.” She rummaged inside it and pulled out a bag of chips from the human world. “I forgot I had these.”
Spitfire took to the air. “Come on, let’s get started.” She flew toward the blue barrier separating them from the harsh winter.
Scarf secure around her neck, Sunset moved up to the wall and ran a hoof through it. The forcefield felt like warm water. Bracing herself for the dramatic shift in temperature, Sunset pressed through, stepping ankle-deep into snow. The wind stung her face and filled her eyes with flurries. She forced them open and gazed upon the white-capped mountain range rising up before her, a row of teeth chomping at the steely sky.
While not a full-on a blizzard, snow swirled around them, relentless in its assault. The wind hissed past her ears and numbed them. With a sharp exhale, Sunset saw her breath float away in a great warm cloud. Spitfire didn’t fare much better, though she at least had her goggles to protect her eyes.
“I knew it was going to be cold,” she said, creating a stream of steam, “but I didn’t know it would be this flippin’ cold!” She beat her wings harder, inadvertently kicking up more snow.
“We’re in northern Equestria. Don’t know what else you were expecting.” Sunset charged her horn and closed her eyes in concentration. While her magic welled up at her command, remembering and using spells she hadn’t practiced in years was a different matter; the swirling cold certainly didn’t help matters. Sparks and crackles came from her horn as she pieced the spell together. The area around her warmed up to an acceptable temperature, and the wind stop hitting her face. She opened her eyes and saw the world tinted through a teal bubble.
Spitfire, hovering just inside its perimeter, stuck her hoof out, then quickly retracted it. “What fancy magic is this?”
“A temperature controlled field. Just think of it like that bubble I made earlier, except bigger. It should keep us warm for a while, at least until I get too tired to maintain it.” Standing in place, the snow within the forcefield started to melt.
Spitfire smirked. “Not gonna lie, this is pretty cool. Think you could make it a little bigger though? I’m flying close to the ground.”
Sunset pushed ahead, bringing the barrier with her. “No. You can either walk with me, or fly as high as you want out in the cold.”
Spitfire grumbled something as she landed next to Sunset and started walking. They made for the base of the mountains, the wind and snow erasing the hoofprints they left behind.
