Cloudbound

Cloudsdale was Equestria’s floating city, and unsurprisingly, there was more to the place than the clouds that formed its highways. The monument towered over the horizon in the distance, a small speck among the marbles of mountains and valleys. Brandish returned his focus to the clouds ahead and considered the reality of just how much he had overestimated; it had now been over a full day cycle since they’d left Cloudsdale. Yeah... I messed up. Woops.

Brandish was too sheepish to admit to the filly that he had never really considered the fact the cloud city was always on the move. He flexed his wings and sighed wistfully, trapped in a daydream of cramped cubbies and warm summer days. The princess’ sun was hot on their tails, and all they could do was keep flapping; he willed desperately for the crest of Canterlot to inch closer to them, but the stubborn mountain-horn refused to budge. It was so far off, yet it was close enough to risk his annoyed ire.

“Brandish? My wings are starting to hurt again.”

Slowing himself, Brandish matched speed with Feather. “You sure? We just took a break about half an hour ago.” As much as he wanted to help the filly by all means, Brandish acknowledged that their supplies would not last if they took too long to get to the capital; he had hooked himself and Feather up with a couple of days worth of food and water, but with the rate that they were flying, the lifetime of their caravan was dwindling.

“Yes!” she moaned. “Please please please, can we go down? It's really starting to hurt!”

Something felt off about her cry. Brandish wasn’t about to take any chances, because a fragile filly was a fretful filly, and that wasn’t going to get them to Canterlot any faster. Before Feather could say much else, Brandish slipped underneath her and begun their descent with care.

But their glide was short-lived; there was a meaty ‘thwump’ against the stallion’s back accompanied by a sudden loss of altitude.

“You okay, Feltie?” Brandish called back to the new package adorning his back.

“Mm… no...”

Brows furrowed, Brandished Plumes tried to focus on getting out of the air as quickly and as safely as possible, but his mind strayed. We’ve still got a good tailwind and we’re on easy thermals, how can she be hurting this bad?

“Alrighty, just hang tight…”

Feather Felt watched the stallion as he carefully prickled over her wings. She felt a blush creeping on her cheeks as the silence continued; Brandished had been looming over her for the past five minutes, and the embarrassment of being fawned over was getting to her. She shuffled her wings uncomfortably.

“They hurt still?” Brandish asked as he took a closer look at one of her primaries.

A soft mumble emerged. “Y-yeah."

“Hmph. Well, in that case…” Brandish stepped away and readjusted his vest. “You’ve been working those wings way too hard, lil’ filly. If I could see your father right now, we’d have a solid talk on our hooves about getting you some proper practice. I thought it was a bit odd that you were flapping so hard to stay up, but I can see now that it isn’t your fault... entirely.” He spoke with the tone one would use to chastise a foal, and it made Feather Felt’s rosy blush deepen.

“You make it look easy, though!”

Ah, I get it now. "Feltie, you don’t need to impress me. I can tell you right now that you definitely don’t need to be flapping that hard to glide on intervals, just enough at the correct intervals to keep you up; in other words, I can tell that you were just trying to go fast. Now, like I said, it isn’t entirely your fault that you’re flying the way you are, but there’s no need to try and keep up with my speed; if you want to slow down, all you have to do was ask.”

She deflated at his remarks. “But… we have to get to Canterlot fast, right?”

“We’re not in that big of a rush, and I'm sure the record-keepers aren't going anywhere. My worry is getting a tender filly named Feather to town before we run out of snacks, and hurting yourself trying to stick with me is just going to slow us down. Now with that behind us, let’s talk about stretching.”

“Stretching?”

“Celestia, no… ’ope, sorry, kinda let that one slip.” Brandish cleared his throat. “Your daddy never taught you about stretching your wings?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to do that?” Feather cringed as she saw a frown materialize before her. “Whenever I try, it always hurts. So I… just… never did?” She stared.

A loud pop cracked off and Brandished stood. “Wooph, that was a good one!”

Brandish smiled at the stunned filly, relishing in the fact that he was being sized up. She stood there with a blatant awed look on her face, ever-so slowly drifting into a contorted grimace that rebounded in the painful sound that Brandish had just made with his pony-parts. Despite how amusing it was to watch Feather squirm over such a monotonous and everyday ordeal, Brandish did have to reaffirm his stance so that she understood that stretching was a very nice thing.

“Whaddya think? That was good, right?”

“That was wrong.” Feather Felt made a face and thwacked Brandish lightly. “Bad Brandish.”

“Aw, don’t be like that now. Trust me, it feels absolutely great! And it’s very important.”

“Why is it important?”

“So you don’t end up hurting yourself by being silly, filly of silly!” Brandished crouched down into another stance. “I’m sure you at least stretch your hooves, right?”

Feather nodded. “Yeah, but with wings it’s—”

“It’s no different, that’s what!” If Feather was upset about being interrupted, she didn’t show it, so Brandish continued. “You gotta treat all your pony-parts with respect, because most of them you’ll only have one life to spend with, and you have to make that lifetime count!”

“Um, I’m not sure I’m okay with calling my wings and hooves ‘pony-parts.’”

“That’s what they are, right? So what’s there to worry about?”

“Losing my parts?”

A silence swiftly came forward.

“Right…” Brandish laughed awkwardly. “Well uh… we probably shouldn’t be thinking about losing our pony-parts, should we?”

The filly’s head thrashed from side to side.

“So you’ll take up some lessons on proper pony-part maintenance?”

“If it helps me fly better!”

“That’s the spirit! Now, let’s start simple; tell me, Felt, how much do you know about your wings?”

"Well... I know you have to preen them, and I can do that."

Brandish smiled.

"And... um... that's it?"

The smile died before it could live.