Rainbow in the Dark
Chapter One: Late
Thunk, thunk sounded against the door. Rainbow Dash groaned, lifting her head from a soft red, silken pillowcase.
“Go away, it’s too early for this,” she mumbled. Thunk thunk again at the door. Following her own advice, she closed her eyes and plopped her head back on the pillow. A pause, as if the disturber got the message; then a puff of cloud as a green tortoise burst through the wall to the right of the door. A yellow glow above the shell revealed a rotor blade strapped to it, a pair of aviator goggles on his face, and a small reptilian tongue flailing about.
With surprising speed and haste, the tortoise (named Tank of all things) crossed the room to the blackout shades that clung to the cloud wall thanks to inexplicable pegasi magic. Grabbing one of the curtains in his mouth, the tortoise yanked it back.
Light flooded across Rainbow’s namesake mane. Hissing, the light-blue mare buried her head in her pillow and threw a great purple blanket over her eyes, desperate to return to that alluring, fleeting realm of timeless sleep.
Tank never woke her up like this, not unless he needed food or she was late for something important. His food bowl had been filled last night, she’d remembered that because today were training exercises for the Wonderbolt squadron.
A flick of her wing, and the blankets shot off the bed, crumpling on the floor. With a kick, Rainbow launched herself into the air.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no! I’m late!” she exclaimed, spinning about in the air in panic. She moved to her dresser, stopped, and twisted again. She made her way to the desk, a strong and sturdy oak, more mysterious magics at work to keep it from plummeting through the cloud floor. Scattered across the top of the desk were military papers.
A report on the local dragon migration, another on a downed “weather balloon”, a professional letter from Captain Spitfire chiding her on overly reckless flying. Buried beneath that was the map of Equestria, an emerald gem surrounded by oceans, deserts, and tundras.
A medallion of gold with a bold Number One sat beneath a lamp in the upper right corner. The wastebasket, neglected to the point it overflowed with discarded food containers and papers. Sweeping her tail across its surface, Rainbow scattered them about the room, snatching one of the few remaining papers off the desk. An order from Spitfire to report to the Academy for a Drill session at thirteen hundred hours. Stupid military time, I’ll never get used to it, she grumbled to herself. Thirteen minus twelve equaled one; so the training was at one o’clock.
She cast a nervous glance at the digital clock on her dresser; it read, thankfully in standard civilian time, eleven forty-three. No time to waste, back across the room, stopping before a wide vanity on her dresser that was besieged by pictures of herself and her friends.
Twilight, oblivious to the camera, muzzle-deep in a copy of ‘That’, a horror novel about a particularly mean clown. Pinkie Pie, all-but-eating the camera in excitement. A picture of herself crossing a finish line in first place.
Dozens of more good and fond memories were present, but she had no time to admire them all. A duffle bag on top of the dresser was dropped to the floor without ceremony. Logic says that things can’t sit on top of a cloud. Ponies laugh at logic. It landed with a soft thwump. Yanking drawers open, she tossed in whatever clothes and uniforms were on top.
Two training uniforms, a set of casual civilian wear, and her dress blues. A third training uniform was struggled into without so much as touching the dresser for support. A pirouette in the air, a flick of her wing, and the curtains closed back. She was just that awesome.
“Thanks for the wake-up, Tank. Love you, little buddy,” Rainbow said, giving the tortoise a nuzzle before launching herself from the room. Out the door and an immediate left in the hallway, a burst of speed, then a sharp right following the stairs down. Pictures of family, a trophy case built into the cloud wall, and newspapers showing off her many accomplishments.
Out the front door, with a hearty crack of wood against wood as it slammed out. A toss of her hoof, and the duffle bag arched into the sky and landed square on her back. Orienting northeast, the pegasus darted forward with speed just shy of her Sonic Rainbooms.
To the south was Ponyville, the residents therein moving about their day-to-day tasks with much less energy than herself. To her right was the Everfree forest, and on the edge of the foreboding place was Fluttershy’s cottage. The neat animal sanctuary was almost deserted at this time as animals went about the day, scavenging or helping with Fluttershy’s needs.
Rainbow Dash froze in mid-air as a thought occurred to her. The Academy was just on the other side of the forest. It being early autumn, the leaves in the canopy were showing just the earliest hints of orange. A really good shortcut for somepony who needed all the extra time she could get.
Ah screw it, she thought, snorting as she decided on this new course. Rushing along the course, she passed above the cottage. The yellow pegasus was out in her garden, tending to sprouting onion stalks with muddy hooves, pink mane braided back. A small white dot was beside her, Angel Bunny, who was anything but an angel at times, looked up to see the blue pegasus. Tapping his larger friend’s foreleg, and gestured high above. Fluttershy looked up, but the other pegasus had disappeared from sight. A single cloud with a vague shape of a carrot was all there was to be seen.
“Oh, are you hungry Angel?” she asked, voice as soft as silk and sweet as honeyed milk, reaching into a saddlebag and procuring an actual carrot. Sighing, the bunny shook his head and accepted his snack.
Somewhere to the southeast was Zecora’s hut. From this distance it was impossible to see, though it was committed to easy memory. A shame there was no time for a visit; the Zebra often had interesting tidbits of knowledge and lore to tell.
‘A dime for a rhyme would be sublime,’ Zecora had said once with an easy laugh. She had also followed it along with, ‘But to be so rich, would probably make me quite the—’ cutting herself off at realization of the next word to her statement.
A glance south brought Rainbow to a halt. Somewhere near her friend’s home and several miles above it was a wall of dark and impenetrable clouds, moving due north as if to deliberately cut off her path. On the edges of the storm were dozens of dark dots—weather pegasi pushing the monstrous storm forward.
Being the best flyer in all of Equestria, Rainbow Dash could take on any other pegasi in a race and win hooves down. However, there had to be forty or fifty pegasi just on the edges of the storm to move it with such haste. She couldn’t take on that many solo. In the few seconds it had taken her to notice and observe the situation, the storm had quartered the distance.
Distance, and therefore time, was the key. Her due-east course shifted to northeast as she attempted to buy herself time. A diagonal flight away from the cloudfront would hopefully be enough to see her to the other side before it was too late.
The distance was now halved, and the far side of the storm was now beyond her line of sight. As it moved ever closer, Rainbow flared her wings, looped back, and hovered just beyond and below its foremost edge.
“Fancy flyin’, ma’am,” an orange pegasus called. His cutie mark was a flashlight. What could that possibly mean?
“What the hoof is going on here?” she barked in reply. Pulling up short a dozen wings away from her, the pegasus raised his forehooves in defense.
“Easy, ma’am, We were sent to collect the clouds for Cloudsdale I know this is without notice, but the Hoofington region has been getting doused with storms.” he replied. To his credit, he was far calmer—and he was being glared down by a Wonderbolt. Still, he probably wasn’t late, was he?
The answer mellowed her to an extent; Hoofington was surrounded by mountains and almost always had an excess of clouds that needed shipping out. A storm this size could easily prepare winter for Ponyville, Canterlot, and maybe even Manehattan. That would save the towns and cities from draining their own reservoirs, equating to saved pony-hours of work, which in turn saved a ton of bits.
A huge win for all parties involved. Except Rainbow Dash, because now she’d be late.
“I don’t have time for this!” Rainbow shouted and dived down, wings a blur of blue as she shot below the pegasi and the storm. The chorus of voices shouted behind for her to stop, to turn about and to slow down. Wind screamed in her ears, turbulence buffeted her about as it seemed to try to knock her off course.
A minute had yet to pass by in this mad charge when an explosion of color and sound raked across the sky. A Rainboom, something she hadn’t done in years, blew apart the behemoth above her. Teams of pegasi were sent spiraling away with the shockwave.
Chaos erupted. The few pegasi not tossed about did all they could to corral the splintered storm, but it was for naught. The winds caught Rainbow, her forward speed allowing no time to fix the course. Downdrafts slammed her into the forest canopy.
Pain lanced up her left wing; branches cut through her flight suit and scratched her underbelly and jaw. The duffel bag on her back caught her for a moment in a branch before it was torn away.
That pause in her fall was the only thing that saved her life as she hit the ground hard. Many ponies say they’ve had the air knocked from their lungs. Few actually have, and Rainbow joined their limited ranks. The air was pushed from her lungs; the pain was all-encompassing.
She pressed a hoof to her chest and took quick, ragged breaths. The edges of her vision were darkening; her body shook, and the dark depths of her conscious took hold.
Time passed without note, and when she awoke, it was cold, and the entirety of her being cried out in protest as she attempted to stand. The sky above was clear but oh-so dark, and from the hole her flailing body had produced in the canopy a single star sparkled in the twilight.
With ginger turns of her head, a brief scan of the surroundings confirmed the duffle bag was gone. Lost somewhere in the fall, caught in a tree branch to be some canopy dwelling rodent nest. Dark oaks, a few birch trees, and a plethora of dense and thorny bushes and brambles surrounded her. Had she gone another twenty paces before crashing, she could’ve been seriously hurt. Or worse. Beyond this, the fading light of Celestia’s good sun was indistinguishable.
Reality struck; a hammer blow to the mind almost as bad as the physical impact of the crash. She was alone, injured, had no supplies, and the odds of help were virtually nonexistent at best. Had the other pegasi seen her fall? Would they have left her down here if they had? No, no-no-no—This stopped here, she was Rainbowhoofin’ Dash, best of the freakin’ (pronounced as friggin’) best.
If rescue wouldn’t come, she would get out of here herself in no time. As she brought herself to her hooves, an unwelcome vertigo struck. Aside from a busted wing, a concussion was probably amongst her injuries. Compared to her normal trot, her speed was much reduced. On top of injuries, it was getting too dark to see. Navigating on a proper heading was impossible, so Rainbow moved in the general direction of ‘that way’.
A bad action was better than no action, right? This thought process was immediately tested as branches and bushes caught her mane and tail, tearing at what remained of the flight suit and adding fresh cuts to her blue coat.
This was going to be a long and miserable night. She wasn’t prepared, not even remotely ready, but this could be done. It had to be done; there were no other options.
Author's Note
Author's Notes, best time of the day. Okay, first thing- Fimfic I royally, royally hate you. The seething hatred that has been sparked in the pit of my soul by the way you set this place up makes me wish I never came to this site!
However, I'm a terribly shy individual so my hatred for you will be a passive aggressive Author's Note. Second thing, this is my first MLP related story ever, and the longest continuous story I've ever written. As of today I have some thirteen or so chapters equating to roughly one hundred and thirty odd pages. So this story is mostly finished and will be uploaded as soon as I type it up for my two awesome editors to overlook.
Third, it is my sincerest hope you enjoy this and stick around for chapter two!
Chapter Two: Missing
Spitfire, the flaming lead of the Wonderbolts, felt like her mane would burst into actual flames. It had been a hot, grueling afternoon inside the flight suit. Sweat had formed a second layer between her body and the suit and had been the height of discomfort.
A long, cool shower had fixed that once training was over; it did nothing for the vein pulsing in her forehead. Rainbow Dash, her own wingpony of all ponies hadn’t shown up for practice. Rainbow would become the lead Wonderbolt when she, Spitfire, in the unlikely situation, retired.
Aside from a few bumps early on in her training and the spat of alternative personality ‘thing’ that had happened, Rainbow had been an excellent trooper. Never late, accepted orders readily and flew steady. Now she was freaking gone. Poof, thin air. No letter prior to training saying she was going to be tardy. No flier to say she was sick.
Missed chow was understandable—the mess hall rarely had anything good. Just a month ago, Spitfire had found a grub in her peas. Appetite thoroughly ruined, she returned the plate and marched out, flew over to the local fast food joint McBolt (to her, it seemed rather cheeky), and grabbed a cheap hayburger with a side salad. Being gone for a warm-up could be excused, on a rare occasion, because most Wonderbolts did their own warm-ups before even showing up as they all flew.
The exercise was more of a formality, but it didn’t hurt that it helped pad the paycheck at the end of the week. Rainbow Dash hadn’t shown up for role call, and hadn’t trained. Hadn’t had the dignity to show up late, just blew off the whole training.
Spitfire was in her office; it was scarce in decoration but heavy in paperwork. Disgust distracted her from military duties, and now she was swiveled about, facing the window and looking over the runway. Two new rookie squadrons were practicing synchronized takeoff and landings, while a third group with more experience were attempting group hovering operations.
The office door opened, and with it did the floodgate to her temper. Whirling about in the chair, she shouted.
“Rainbow, I swear to Celestia, I-” She halted; frozen before her, in a backstep, was Soarin’, looking like he’d just stepped on a Drill Captain’s hoof on his first day of training, and wanting to be anywhere in the universe but right there.
Snapping a wing to his temple in salute, Soarin’ went to attention. Hooves straight and eyes straight, staring at nothing.
“Intel?” she barked.
“She’s not anywhere around the base, ma’am. Not cloud-napping within five miles of the perimeter either.” Damn, couldn’t be as simple as oversleeping, could it? Spitfire scowled, drawing a nervous glance from her wingmate.
“Any fliers available to go to Ponyville?” Soarin’ offered.
“No. You were out to lunch, but I got word from a cross-eyed pegasus that a major storm got demolished west from Ponyville. Didn’t click with me to get one of ‘em to detour and do some recon,” Spitfire explained, somewhat ashamed that she could make such an oversight.
She paused; vacation was supposedto start after the paperwork today. Could a soldier earn overtime? A few hours flying around to track down an AWOL soldier could do nicely—Hearth’s Warming was only a few months away, and some extra cash for a gift for a special somepony would be really nice.
“You and me. Meet on the south runway in ten minutes; dismissed.” Soarin’ saluted and bolted from the room. Rainbow Dash, you are in so much trouble when I find you, she hissed mentally, leaving papers unfinished at her desk, charging out of the office for the locker room.
Hoofsteps echoing through the great halls, roaring at any private too slow to move from her path. Hasty salutes followed in her wake, a mental note made for each soldier that failed to show proper military etiquette. They would be dealt with later; right now, a certain mare was her top priority, and Celestia save those who got in Spitfire’s way.
Skidding to a halt, she turned into an open doorway that led to the changing room. Tile floors, boring navy blue walls. Pegasi might love flying and all things airborne, but there was a thing as too much blue.
Shrugging out of the military dress, crumpling it at the bottom of her locker. Out with a black wash towel, shampoo, and conditioner. ‘Pega-sigh’ was the name of the hair cleanser. Could a business be sued for the stupidity of their product name? Celestia, she hoped so.
A hop into a shower, swinging the frosted curtain across the stall, and a twist of a faucet handle. Instant, hot, and absolutely delicious heat began to melt away the knots in her back. Everything else about military life might have been ‘hurry up and wait’, but the hot water was always on time.
The water was tempting her: forget chasing after a mare. Stay here, enjoy the warmth. Forget the whole grimmy business of flying. Be refreshed and let time pass without notice.
A bolt of mind-numbing cold struck her coat, and Spitfire yelped. That was the ten-minute-mark warning, time to move her rump before the water turned to liquid ice. She scrubbed herself down until there was a standing pool of bubbles that had the vague resemblance of a pony.
One last pass under the showerhead, and the soap was gone. Mane clinging to her shoulders, sparkling in the LED lights overhead, she felt magnificent. Probably could’ve knocked a few stallions out with her looks.
Drying off with a towel and sliding into a flight suit, she couldn’t help but pause before the vanity mirror in her locker. For a brief moment, Spitfire wished ponies could purr. Looking back from the glassy prison was a sharp pony. Suit free of any wrinkles, mane gleaming, and dazzling white teeth. She wasn’t just hot, she was on fire!
Slamming the locker door shut, she bolted from the room. A right out the door, down the hall, and out of the building. Taking flight, banking hard left to align herself with the runway, and there at the far end was Soarin, waiting as ordered.
As she drew close, he spotted her and kicked off the ground with a hard flap of his wings. Airborne, he moved to take a flanking position. Taking a sharp, drifting turn brought him above, behind, and on her right. Dear Celestia, he is such a good flier.
No words passed between them, just an angry fury that drove Spitfire and her wingmate ever forward. The setting of the sun, giving the horizon a beautiful last shower of orange and red hues, fell before them, far, far to the west.
Night was fully upon them, moon full and bright in the dark sky to guide their way. The flight took about three hours; bits of the storm being pushed away in chunks had slowed them, but the two Wonderbolts eventually reached the sleeping village of Ponyville.
The cylinder that was the town hall was long closed for the evening. The dirt roads were empty, save for a few stragglers; some going home from a long day at work, others going out on a late night date, and still others just enjoying the beautiful night.
Light had gone out from many windows as ponies enjoyed the wonderland that was Luna’s dream realm. For Spitfire, this relaxing sight further cooled the fire in her belly. The rightful rage at the start of the flight had cooled off to a mere simmer.
That anger had been temporarily replaced by overwhelming disgust for the forest that had yet to be put under rightful equine control. Ahead, floating above the sleeping village. was Rainbow Dash’s home, a bright and beautiful place during the day that at night looked far more foreboding.
The usually vibrant rainbow waterfall was now a black sheet. White and happy clouds now were dark and dangerous. Does Rainbow know how creepy her house looks at night?
Landing on the front cloud-yard without a sound, thanks in part to the softness of the ‘ground’. This stealth was perhaps unnecessary no lights were on, the door was shut, everything normal at a casual glance.
Spitfire had been here before, stayed in the guest bedroom at the rear of the house, so seeing the blinds of the master bedroom opened struck her as odd. Rainbow Dash loved sleeping in; the dark curtains should have been closed up tight against the morning sun.
The front double doors were shut, but a crack had formed on the right. These were made of sturdy oak, and it would’ve taken effort to cause even such minor damage. Marching forward, with Soarin’ taking a defensive position to the side, she raised the flat of her hoof and knocked as hard as she dared.
A minute passed, then two. No shuffling in the house, no lights bursting to life. Certainly no grumbles and groans of a pony awoken from a good rest. When five minutes passed, or presumably five minutes (counting seconds in one’s head was never that accurate), she snorted and knocked again.
Still no answer, and her patience wore thin.
“Soarin, do a sweep of the perimeter. Open windows, doors, see if our gal bolted.”
“She could be asleep,” he commented, looking into the dark living room.
”Now soldier,” Spitfire barked, twisting about, kicking out with her hind legs and smashing the great door open. Not the most subtle entrance ever, but it serves its purpose. The crack of the doors against the inner wall echoed in the house. Any sleeping mare should’ve heard it.
Still nothing, and a sweep of the ‘ground’ floor confirmed nopony was here. The kitchen was quiet, the icebox humming away, oblivious to any trouble. It was fairly tidy, aside from the trash bin needing to be emptied. The living room, pantry, and restroom were equally empty.
Back to the main hall, where Soarin was waiting and with a shake of his head confirmed her suspicions. Nopony had made a daring escape attempt. Up the stairs, the two swept through the rooms.
Swinging to the right hallway, the pair breached the first room on the right. A rather grand bathroom. Encompassing half the room was a bathtub/shower abomination. Shower heads were built into the wall and ceiling as rotating disks. A plethora of shampoo and conditioner bottles filled every available shelf.
Rainbow Dash could have a full body shower with a turn of a faucet. Spitfire paused, eying the amazing contraption. Despite having showered just a few hours prior, she found herself really wanting another.
On to the next bedroom, the guest room Spitfire had stayed in many months ago. A twin bed with hefty down blankets and gorgeous, purple silk pillows. Those were new; Rainbow’s friend, Rarity, found a new competitor to worldly comforts and home decor.
The next room was quite a surprise—a library that was just starting out, by the looks of it. Floor-to-ceiling shelves encompassed the entire room. Four more stood in the middle of the room, two flanking a rather lovely reading couch to either side.
The shelves were barren, save for the one closest to the seat. Every Daring Do book sat clean on the middle shelf. It seemed Rainbow was taking after the Princess of Friendship, and was preparing to be quite the book lover.
Finally, they arrived to the last room. Rainbow’s. With a shove the door opened, and the two soldiers burst inside. The bed was a crumpled mess, dresser drawers opened and ransacked. Papers scattered from the desk littered the floor.
A yellow glow came to life from the bed; the small tortoise Tank, Spitfire recalled, opened his eyes with irritating slowness. The propeller on his back spun to life, and without warning the little reptile shot forward, straight at the two.
“Hey!” Spitfire shouted, throwing herself to the side. Soarin’ leapt to the other side. The tortoise struck the wall, or rather, he went through it with a puff of white cloud.
“Crazy little thing!” Soarin’ hissed, eyes scanning the walls for their would-be attacker.
“Nopony is home, she isn’t her—Look out!” she shouted. The tortoise puffed through the wall again, striking Soarin’ soundly on his flank and sending him stumbling to the floor.
The rotors’ electric whine increased as the little green missile launched up to the ceiling and out of sight. Soarin’, muttering a string of phrases Spitfire wished she hadn’t heard, got to his hooves.
“Kamikaze pet,” he muttered. Clouds flew up from the floor, and he took the shell of the tortoise to the jaw. Once more, he went down.
“I’m going to make soup outta you!” Spitfire shrieked. Taking to the air, she moved above the bed. Belly covered and back secured by the headboard, ears flicked and strained to catch the pathetic whirring of that darned contraption.
A ringing in the ear was what she heard first, tinnitus she’d gotten from that firework/artillery shell Rainbows’ parents had lobbed at them in one of the airshows. A puff of smoke straight ahead, the mobile soup can was rushing her headlong!
She had to wait only a moment for Tank to cross the room. Just as he crossed the center of the room, Spitfire flipped back, all four hooves connecting with the shell, and he was gone—disappeared through the far wall, and pinged away to some other part of the house.
“Soarin,” she barked, “Get up!”
“I should’ve stayed outside,” he muttered, a whimper escaping him, legs shaking beneath his body as he attempted to stand. “Minor concussion, possible cracked muzzle. This was on orders, so paid medical leave. Whoo—owe.”
Rolling her eyes, Spitfire made her way to the window. Pushing the curtains aside and cracking the window open, now was the time for a hasty retreat. With an impromptu exit, they left the tortoise to buzz about like an angry hornet.
Dropping altitude once away from the cloud, they surveyed Ponyville. Thatched roofs conflicted with the electric lights still on in random rooms across the town. None of them were the target; the rather obvious choice was at the edge of town.
A sun-blocking wall of crystal, Twilight’s castle, where a great many lights were still running well into the night. Crystal ramparts and spires jutted from the ground, a strange testament to her victory over the monstrous Tirek.
Landing in a yard again for the second time that night, Spitfire ascended the steps as Soarin’ laid in the grass, giving a relieved sigh at the coolness on his jaw. Dutifully knocking on the grand doors of the castle, Spitfire waited.
She ground her molars together as time ticked away; as the thoughts of kicking the door open surfaced, it opened. Light spilled out of the opening and ruined her eyes’ adaption to the dark.
Before her was Spike; the small purple dragon had shadows under his eyes and a half-eaten emerald in his left claw. Behind him, legs wide in a defensive stance, was Starlight Glimmer, horn glowing and ready to blast the intruders.
“Spike, please get the princess. Starlight, help me with Soarin, please, he’s injured,” Spitfire said, years of military experience making her forget that these weren’t fellow soldiers.
Spike nodded his head, being such a big-hearted dragon he ran off without another word to fetch Twilight. The prodigy of friendship, however, seemed less inclined to follow orders without question.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
“He’s got a concussion, get over here and help,” Spitfire said, turning to retrieve her battle buddy. A flash of light, and she collapsed on the ground as the steps disappeared and a bed was there instead. A similar thump echoed from Soarin’ as he was deposited on his own.
It looked like a medical bay for sick or injured ponies. Two rows of spartan beds on either side of the room with emergency supplies on either end. Why did the castle have such a thing; was there a more militaristic approach to its design that the world was not aware of? Or was this the preparation of a mare who had seen many evils and was planning ahead? What other secrets hid within its walls?
“Teleporting is faster than telekinesis,” Starlight commented, a smug look on her muzzle. Opening a first aid kit, the mare retrieved a cold compress and aspirin. With these well in, well, magical grasp… what was the proper saying when ‘well in hoof’ didn’t work? In any case, Starlight saw to Soarin, and Spitfire was grateful for it.
A second flash of light, this one a rich purple, and Twilight was there. Spitfire’s personal favorite of the princesses, if she had to admit; after watching the duel between Twilight and Tirek, the princess had won a place forever in Spitfire’s heart.
Despite the hour, Twilight looked fresh and ready for anything. Mane and tail straight, trim, and no-nonsense. Restless energy burned in her eyes.
“Captain, Spike told me you require my immediate attention,” she said, casting a glance at Soarin, clutching the ice pack, and Starlight brewing him a tea.
“Yes ma’am, I believe Rainbow Dash is missing,” Spitfire replied.
Shock crossed Twilight’s face, replaced by a cloud of darkness that was quite unlike her.
“Tell me everything you know,” Twilight hissed.
Author's Note
Chapter Two, bringing in the best princess ever Ms. Twilight Sparkle! How's she going to handle this? Will Spitfire, Soarin, and Twilight be able to track down Rainbow? Stay tuned and find out!
(Forgive me, I'm absolutely terrible at authors notes!)