Tempest Shadow leaned heavily in her shovel, panting and sweating despite the cool weather. She had a full three hours of community service left, and to her, it was the end of a lifetime. Just after being sentenced to two hundred hours, she could barely fathom it. But now she just had three days of community service left--one hour per day--and she felt quite accomplished.

However, it didn't mean it wasn't so hard. She had to go to a community farm by the Appleachians, a far way from Canterlot, and help the harvest for the last fifty days. It was autumn, and leaves littered the ground waiting to be sewn. Tempest first had to rake all those leaves, then set to work readying the rough, uneven ground for crops. She then had to plant those crops, and harvest from others.

Right now she was digging holes so she could plant pumpkin seeds. She had to do the entire garden. That meant ten rows of fifteen pumpkin seed holes. That meant one hundred and fifty holes to be dug. She was only on her thirty-ninth. This was hard work. She was used to hard work as a commander, but not as a farmer. Of course, she had her magic, but the farm's owner would be furious. She had already seen him hit another pony.

Sweat accumulated on her brow. She wiped at it hastily and hurried to resume, not so eager to appear lazy to the angry Mr. Haysworth, the community farm's owner. She turned to finish her current row, and that was when the flicker caught her eye.

It was fire.

Tempest knew the protocol: if there was a problem, report to Mr Haysworth immediately. She wasn't exactly sure about what she saw, though. It was just a flicker, and maybe it wasn't a forest fire. Maybe it was a campfire.

She decided to wait until she saw it again. Working at the base of the Appleachians was dangerous; last year, the weather ponies had quite a few wildfires to deal with. Tempest thought of the flicker and found herself whipping her head to--

There it was. Again.

If this was a disaster and Tempest ignored it, it would be all her fault.

That was what prompted her to investigate. She took a glance around and saw Mr. Haysworth teaching another unicorn, Rosie, how to use a plow with her hooves. Rosie was a newcomer and had a lot of trouble with things, so Tempest knew that Mr. Haysworth would be quite busy.

Tempest gave herself two minutes to find the source of the flame. She stuck the shovel into the ground and trotted towards the trees, careful to avoid crunchy leaves and any other indicators of her abandonment.

Once she made it past the treeline that marked the edge of the woods, about ten yards from where the mountains started their slope, she hid herself behind a large trunk and looked to her left, the general direction of the fire. When she didn't spot it, she decided to go further. She weaved between a couple of trees. The farther in she journeyed, the denser the woods became. At every tree she passed, she looked around. She tried investigating more to her left, but to no avail. Her brow furrowed.

She was not a hoof from the slope when she realized how far she had gotten. It had undoubtedly been two minutes already. She started to turn back. Maybe it was just a firefly; it was almost evening. But that wouldn't make sense. Summer was over, and winter was nearing.

But as she turned back, she saw it again. This time, it was very distinguishable. It was fire, and it was coming from somewhere to her left when she turned back.

Tempest crept closer and closer, and she heard something. A murmuring. Voices! Someone was camping there. She was right!

Now she had to warn them to move.She didn't want them o be under Mr. Haysworth's wrath, or have them start another forest fire. As she stepped closer, she realized that beyond those trees where the voices seemed to come from was a clearing. She caught the fire again.

Something was off. The cool air got to her, and she leaned forward, shivering. Was the fire...floating? It seemed to be almost wavy, like Princess Celestia's mane. And then there was a flash of blue. Water? No--it seemed to be waving in the air as well. Were both Luna and Celestia here? What was this?

If it was the princesses, they were probably checking up on Tempest, wondering why she wasn't in the fields.But the voices sounded different. Harsh...evil. Who were they?

Only one way to find out.

Tempest peeked into the clearing where the voices had originated and stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. Before her were two of the strangest-looking mares ever.

Author's Note

This originated from an idea I had back when I was starting to write. This isn't my main story, so don't expect this to be updated often.