The house was alone. It carried with it the edge of revelation and obstination. This was a birthplace, but to what? Celestia did not know, and though she was curious, she was more so determined to discover what lay within. The confinement of secrets within this prairie irked her. But no longer.
She prodded the front door. Two taps; light and pleasant.
Her bags hung loose over her wide wings. They twitched against the cool autumn; the alicorn made no motion to stop them. She was tired, but the journey was not yet over. This door stood between her and the blissful world of ignorance that awaited her return... and as the ticking chitters of the unnamed western critters blustered into a cacophony of songs, Celestia’s patience waned.
Her unladen alabaster hoof rapped against the frame; it spoke thrice.
A whimper sounded from within.
Four calls rattled against the frame in response.
“Mrrh...”
Celestia’s ears twitched at the faint sound.
“Go away!”
“I would like to speak with a friend.”
“I don’t have friends!”
“Then I come as a new friend.”
“I… I don’t make friends!”
“A guest.”
“A prairie hog!”
“Please, little one. The distance I have traveled is great, and my wings ache ever so. If you would be so kind as to grant me hospice...”
“Just leave me alone!”
“You are.”
Celestia paused.
The other paused, too.
“... come in.”
The door swung open with a flicker of yellow.
The interior greeted Celestia like glittering gold. It was cold. The chill slid through her wings.
A voice gasped. “I-it hurts.”
The goddess turned. “The cold?”
The brown mass shuddered by the flickering orange flames, it’s wide amber eyes brimming with tears. “Y-yes.”
“But you are strong, little one.”
“I… I-I am?”
“Your father speaks fondly of you, Wind Clipper. I know what you have done.”
The little mare sniffled. “T-then you know that I d-don’t deserve to be o-out there?”
“Much more; I know the story of a brave little pony who faced a bitter wilderness in order to escape her nightmares.”
“B-but it w-wasn’t the right thing to do…”
“And yet you did so.”
A wing wrapped the filly.
“W-why i-is it so cold?”
“You fear the consequences of your actions, Wind Clipper. There is fear where there should be none.”
“B-but I did something b-bad!”
“Was it really so terrible?”
“Y-yes! Everypony hates me n-now!”
“I do not believe it so. The ponies of Halihoof are incredibly happy with what you accomplished—”
“I didn’t do anything right! It was all a m-m-mistake!”
“Who is to say you are wrong?”
“I…”
“That you are right?”
Her silence carried a breathless notion. “I’m sorry, Princess Celestia.”
“What for?”
“For… running.”
“From what, Wind Clipper?”
“... tomorrow.”
“Then you know this; we cannot run from the sunrise.”
“Yeah… but I had to try.”
“There is nothing wrong with trying, and there is nothing wrong with running.”
“But… it’s… it’s not fair, princess.”
“And it won’t be,” she whispered back with a squeeze. “You’re far too young to understand, but in time you will. It’s natural to want to run; we were brought here to roam this world, to thrive, to live, to breathe… of course we long for nothing but to be the master of our self. We all discover life’s imperfections eventually, and against that we learn to cope, to succeed.”
“Then why is it so hard?”
“Because the world is hard on us. It morphs us. Breaks us. Tames us. But we are the tamers, and all it takes to unlock such power is the prospect of time.”
“But… I’ll still have to go back. I’ll still have to face… tomorrow.”
“And that is a simple facet of life, little Clipper. The sun will rise, and the sun will set.”
Wind Clipper was quiet. Celestia felt the rushing thoughts beating through the filly’s heart; she was warming, but the cold remained.
“Princess Celestia?”
“Yes, Wind Clipper?”
“Should I have not done what I did? Did I make things worse?”
“There is nothing wrong with what you did, Wind Clipper. Your fellow earth ponies will be fine, even after what you’ve done.”
The pegasus shifted. “... when you say it like that it sounds bad…”
“And why do you say that?”
“Because… because what I did was different.”
“It matters not what a pony does, Wind Clipper. It matters not whether we have flight, magic, or strength; what we believe in matters. There is something that makes us all think differently, and in the end, we all share that common bond, that common goal. It is not good to be different, and it is not bad to be different, it is necessary to be different. We are more than our actions. More than what others see of us. More than our souls.”
Clipper clung tighter to Celestia.
“Because every day, the sun will rise, and the sun will set.”
“And… each day will be different?”
A white grin shattered the darkness and brought warmth to the room. “Yes.”
Wind Clipper blinked through her bleary vision. There was an awful sensation of sleep coating her lashes, and as she looked up to the alicorn, she suddenly found that her mind was slipping, too. The young mare strained against her mental bonds to no avail; she collapsed against the princess’ side, staining swaths of pristine fur with trickling tears.
A wisp of light had the fireplace roaring loudly once more in mesmerizing reds and yellows.
And in the orange light, Celestia willed tomorrow.
The storm swirled forward on the horizon. It was drifting now, yet the ever-present thunderclaps continued to strike across the western seaboard.
“She saved us.” The stallion swung around. “Does she know that?”
“Yes.” Celestia’s eyes traced along the massive storm.
“I… I can’t thank you enough for bringing her back, Princess Celestia. We were all just so caught in the moment; there were so many outsiders, and I just… without her we would never have made it.”
“She followed her heart. You’ve shown that you can do the same.”
The sunrise broke across the fog suddenly, and from the depths of the sea came a sailship. Then another. Then two more. Then four. Seven.
The alicorn tore her eyes away from the storm where several pegasus crews worked tirelessly to keep the storm drifting. A murky spot marked the sky above the coming tide, swooping high and low as it watched over the fleet.
“You told me once that the earth would always welcome the sun.” The princess turned. “Won’t you join Equestria once more?”
For a moment, the soaring adolescent was silhouetted against the sun.
The petty king gave the sun a morose smile. “We’d love to see today, tomorrow.”
