“To fly.” Her words were so simple.
And yet they bore the heft of a grand ambition, as straightforward as it may seem. To fly.
“What must it be like,” she pondered deeply, “to be able to touch clouds. Are they really like cotton candy?” She had heard that from ponies who lounged the city square, explaining that clouds tasted of the most saccharine cotton candy—that is if one could reach them.
“Is the moon made of cheese?” Equus’ companion peered back from its place, high in heaven, as if placed to watch all life. Some said it was indeed of cheese; others said it was simply a dumb space rock; fewer less thought magic had something to do with it. Magic died long ago, so what could it be?
“And what about the wind? To have that breeze flick one’s mane.” Though she was on the balcony, she knew there was more up there. It was invisible but felt. It brought along scents from other places, chills from even the Undiscovered North. It connected all places. Air was everywhere, as it was nowhere.
“What must flying feel like?” Unbounded, free, hooves to her sides and a smile gentle on her lips as she twisted through night. Prodding clouds. Stroking stardust. It must have been wonderful. It would be fun during daytime, obviously, but there was a romance to when the sun had set to rest, darkness setting in.
Perhaps it was because of the stars. They spilled the navy blue canvas, punctured pinpricks revealing a white background that was the canvas of existence. Stars were wrought in colors a many: wan; red from anger; the blue of sea. They came in many sizes. Some collected planets, others asteroids and dust. Stars were so different.
And yet they were all the same. Save for their brightness, all stars looked the same. If one stood far away enough, anything would be undistinguishable.
So she concluded that stars were as elusive as they were still, unmoving. Oftentimes, a shooting star fell from the unknown. She could list it off the top of her head: meteorites if they reached the surface, asteroids were large objects in space, comets had tails, and meteoroids if it actually hit the surface.
The night sky was clear. Nothing flew, for nothing truly moved.
It was the same as yesterday and the day before. Waiting on this same spot on her balcony, Sunny Starscout had hoped through happenstance that something interesting would happen. It seemed the world preferred placidity to action. Only the wind wandered for adventure.
And then a melancholy wandered in her, too. Couldn’t the world do something?
A yearning had adored her face, melting by the second as the landscape made it clear that nothing would come to her. What made her special? The same question burdened her every night; what made her special? Perhaps she wasn’t.
Other children, dreamers were out there, asking the same: what would it be like to fly? As if something would come and answer, most probably frivolous parents scolding them to shut-eye. In that regard, all children were similar, disappointed as they laid restless in their beds. The only difference was whether or not tears fell.
One. Only one tear fell. Sunny placed her hoof to that closed eye, deciding that enough was enough. It was normal to cry at something, but was it normal to cry when nothing happened? It was the only time a teardrop fell, though she did not weep, for she was strong enough then, and she was still strong now. She wondered why ponies cry.
The world didn’t seem to care. It was still quiet out there, and Sunny was still quiet now; there wasn’t the slightest sniffle or sob.
Why was today special? Why was today the day a tear fell from her face, when all other times were the same?
No answer.
She turned from the view, marching softly towards the lift. The only sound to be heard was monotonous hooves, though one could see that she hung her head low, ears splayed. It was hopeless.
No. It wasn’t hopeless. There had to be something out there. It mattered not if she was special; if she searched hard enough, a miracle would come to her. That had to be the case. She just wasn’t trying hard enough.
Or perhaps it truly was childish. Life wasn’t like that. Miracles were only miracles, and for every fulfilled wish came a hundred ignored beseeches for spectacle. Happenstance, probably, or maybe such was the way of things. One could only hope the phone picked up. It was up to them to reply.
Hope. She turned, facing the windows, peeling open her eyes.
Sunny was wordless. There it was, a small speck on the sky shooting downwards. A shooting star!
She rushed to the balcony. Then confusion hit her.
It wasn’t like any other shooting star she’d seen. For that matter, it seemed closer and smaller than she thought. But it glowed just like any other shooting star would, no trail behind.
It was the only one to fall. With that fact declared, it must have felt lonely. To be the only one of your kind? A curse more than it was a blessing, though that made it truly special. Despite all the stars dispersed—some hidden and some revealed—only this one had decided to fall from heaven.
And then it landed squarely in her yard, buffeting ground.
Sunny scrambled outside—her father seemed asleep. And Maretime Bay’s residents too acknowledged not that a star plunged to be among them, for they were too far away. Arriving outside, she goggled with hazy, wide eyes.
His mane glowed of the sun, though it didn’t illuminate so much as the ground beneath his height. He was a tad tall, and valor exuded from his form, bright as his coat. His eyes, for as piercing they may first seem, greeted hers with a humility only known to fairytales. White smoke that had billowed around him dissipated away to be one with the breeze.
He splayed his wings of light, the crown of gods.
And the world stood still once again. He smiled.
“Do not weep.” His voice was unlike his complexion: gentle, not too deep but not too high. It was brightness in dark, warmth in storms.
“How do you know that?”
“I know many things. And I don’t. But I can see it in your face.”
She was chagrined. “It was only a tear.”
“And yet it makes all the difference in the world, does it not? A tear, a hundred, to a thousand. I come to those who cry, even if it’s just one.”
Curiosity and confusion struck her concurrently. “Why?”
“Why?” He strode closer, tad incredulous but curious, though his valor had evaporated. Underneath his golden eyes hid sincerity, glowing so, how did it shine?
And he stood in front of her then knelt, as if he were a man facing his god. “I tend to seeking souls who allow me to come to them, and none are purer than that of the young. What’s wrong with helping a child in need?”
“I am not a child,” she chided, though Sunny understood him; she ought to grow larger by her age. What was wrong with often seeking childish things?
“Then what are you then?”
She faltered at his question. It was simple. What are you? Then a harsh gust came, flinging his mane and light aside, her braid too. What are you?
“I’m not so sure…” Sunny drifted, both from conversation and clarity. “I… a dreamer? A filly? A daughter of a loving dad? I don’t know.”
And she slumped down much the same way she had done when losing hope: reserving herself to her bed like all the nights before. Why was she sad? And the stark reality haunted her, for would she ever feel happy again? She seemed as lost finding herself in front of this star as when she hadn’t all those times before. It was the first time she’d been asked this.
And yet the end neared. How do you answer that?
“Forgive me.” Her sorrow infected him. “It’s been a long time. I don’t know how to speak.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“I don’t know how to speak,” he clarified, coughing. “I wish I could. Or at least better.”
“You don’t have to wish for anything,” she declared. “You’re a shooting star; you’re what I wish for.”
And his chuckle was both content and sad. “Oftentimes, those who grant great wishes ask even greater wishes themselves. What I give I can’t take, what I show I can’t see, what I dream I can’t have. Such is the fate for somepony like me.”
His words echoed between Sunny’s ears, reverberating her bell of a soul. And the two stood in silence, as silent as a waxen moon.
“What’s your name?”
He glanced at her.
“What?”
“What’s your name?”
That left him shocked, a hoof placed on his chest. He let out a sincere breath, surprised. And for a moment he was the child, misty eyes radiating a forlorn previously unknown to the world.
“I don’t have a name.”
Then she was the shocked one. “How do you not have a name?”
“Others have to call you by it, right?” He glanced down in shame. “How could I have a name if no one’s asked for it before? How can I be anything if I don’t even have that?”
Sunny shot a hoofstep forward in under a heartbeat. “Of course you’re something! I don’t know you, but I know you’re something.”
“What am I?”
She stopped. What am I? What are you, then?
“You’re you,” she answered finally. “You’re you. And that’s always been enough.”
“How are you so sure?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do. Isn’t that faith?”
And he scoffed, though it wasn’t mean spirited. The way he regarded her was different, but the same. “I… yes. Such is faith. Such is faith.” That’s when he seemed to get it. “And you’ve changed.”
“We’ve only met, though.”
“I don’t think it matters.”
She paused. “I guess. But I still have a tendency to be… childish…”
Sunny gazed heavenward, the sky unmoving still. There was something right about watching it with the tickle of grass under her hooves. And the landscape was the purest thing in the world, for it was unchanged by ponykind, the fate of such in the grasp of unknown gods.
“Do you want to touch the sky?” he asked. She locked his kind gaze.
“Ever since I could remember, I’ve wanted to fly.” Sunny’s eyes reflected benevolent moonlight.
An idea snuck into his head from the look of his face. And he knelt down once more, proffering with an extended wing. “Shall we dance through clouds?”
All logic would have barred her from coming close to him, to let herself fly on his back through places unbeknownst. Nothing truly made sense, did it? And she should have been scared, suspicious, and uneasy. An odd stallion that doubled as a shooting star, offering to take her through an adventure of a lifetime? It was madness!
And yet she chuckled and hopped on his warm back, grasping his frame, taking off with a launch that ought to have pierced the sky.
Sunny yelped, tightening her grip as the wind streaked her face. She had to close her eyes, for it was as if they would tear off the moment she opened them. Her mouth sealed shut with a clenched jaw, her hind hooves clutching around his barrel. This was too uncomfortable, too daunting! Why had she dreamt to fly in the first place?!
She dared open her eyes. And it was beautiful.
Slicing the night, he had leveled, now going much slower, as if a train steady in its gait. The moon seemed much brighter, the wind now howling and tickling her coat and ears. It was cold, almost lethally so, but she didn’t care.
Sunny didn’t care because she was flying. She really was flying!
Her jaw dropped as her cheeks raised, her eyes smiling. “I’m flying!” A breath escaped her staggered lips. She repeated it again to the naysayers of the world, as if she couldn’t believe it herself, “I’m flying on top of the world!”
He guffawed, turning his head to a gathering of clouds. “Want to see a trick? Watch this!”
Her moment of glory seemed to dissolve in air as he began accelerating to the bunch, shaking her head. “What are you doing? No, no, no, no, no!”
The stallion struck through the lump of clouds, parting them like a hot knife through butter. He suddenly made a sharp turn upwards, and Sunny had to hold on for her dear life lest she lose her grip. She held tighter as he made loops and circles, the world momentarily upside down for moments, sideways and downwards.
Graceful. Despite the appearance of chaos in his tricks and turns, it was graceful. He moved with the benignity of ballerinas, speed of rockets. His wings were that of hummingbirds’.
And she screamed now, but not out of fear, but thrill. It seemed as if he coordinated his flight so she wouldn’t fall: every left turn followed a right, every drop a rise, every loop completed. It was daring. It was fulfilling.
Her heart thumped in her chest. Her mind was a flurry of emotions. Her ears pounded of blood rushing her veins, the beat of his speedy wings. So much happened at once. And she felt alive.
For the first time in her life, she howled, caring not whether all of Equestria heard or not. This was hers. This was theirs.
The stallion eventually eased, flapping his wings in an easy rhythm. They both took deep breaths, glancing at each other in absolute wonder.
“Was that fun?” He asked through huffs and puffs.
“Fun?” She cocked her head incredulously. “Not just fun, that was amazing! How did you know I wouldn’t fall off?”
His reply was simple. “If you have the will to climb on my back for a flight, then you surely have the will to hold on.”
Sunny rolled her eyes with a smirk. “What if I had really fallen?”
Even simpler, “I would have caught you.”
It was as if great euphoria washed over her from the calm breeze. She had never expected those words from anypony before. Someone, here, to save her when she fell. Sunny had her father, sure, but that was different. This was from a stranger she hadn’t known for more than a day.
No. That wasn’t fair. He was more than a stranger now.
Sunny glanced skyward. This was the closest she's ever been to the stars. And she reverently observed them, thinking, scanning the oceans of darkness. Something surprised her.
Some did move, just slightly. A fade in and out. It was barely anything, but from this perspective, Sunny could see them clear.
The epiphany came to her: these stars were just as alive as she was. They were distant and apart, but they did indeed live. She smiled. It made her thankful she was here, soaring through the sky, lucky enough to have a chance with a shooting star.
“Thank you, Star.”
He turned, not stopping his flight. “Stars? Why are you thanking the stars?”
“I meant you,” she said. Sunny wasn’t even thinking when those words had left her lips. “I can’t think of anything better. It’s a beautiful name, Star.”
He placed a hoof on his mouth and longingly observed the horizon, pondering the epiphany of what she had just done. The only sound was the flutter of the wind and his wings.
“Thank you.” Star was again a little boy, his eyes glittering. He was given a gift he needed but never truly longed for, one he never thought could have. “But… I’m missing something here. I want to know your name, too.”
Her expression was bittersweet. “It’s Sunny.”
Star’s breath gave way, adoration in his eyes. “Sunny.” He chuckled softly. “Thank you, Sunny.”
She chuckled too, hugging his neck.
They were higher than they’ve ever been, the world beneath slumbering. A star had fallen from the sky moments ago, and now there were two. The pair rode under their innumerable cousins, and for a moment the world shone a little brighter with childish dreams.
Author's Note
This is a little fic inspired by young Sunny's words: "I'm soaring through the sky!" I was also inspired by legendary figures such as Santa Claus, Peter Pan and the like. I hope you enjoyed reading! 
