Dinky Doo: The Scion of Wind

Dinky Doo was a unicorn filly who lived in a small town called Ponyville. Her coat was the color of a periwinkle in bloom, her carelessly bouncy mane the color of the bleached petals of a sunflower. And she had been a much younger foal then. No bags underlined her eyes; each of her steps had a bounce to it; each of her ears stood straight and alert, the better to listen to the local market, its hustle and its bustle, the airy chatter that floated about, the waving and recognition between friends and the smiles that epitomized the small town.

Though the excitement of the shopping season was invisible, it was infectious in ways that words failed to explain. But it was no matter, since it was more something to be felt than rationalized. Understanding this, Dinky just let it flow through her; her steps became skips, her smile into hums that went unheard by all but herself.

Then she heard something. But she couldn't skip quite high enough to see what it was — or rather, who they were. Many adult ponies were gathering around the spot; there were too many heads for Dinky to see over, even at the top of her highest skip.

So she stopped skipping and looked between her eyes. She thought about using magic; her mommy always warned her against using a very special brand of magic. Dinky's last adventure had taken her to a city in the middle of the desert. That city was called 'Haissan', and up until some moons prior, an alicorn named Alula had ruled there. It was there where Dinky learnt the secrets of her birth: She was the daughter of Alula, and Dinky could use wind magic because Alula could use wind magic.

Now Alula was dead.

Now Dinky was the only pony in Equestria who could use wind magic. And she had to be careful about where she used it. The entire reason why Dinky lived in Ponyville to begin with was because her mother, Ditzy Doo, had wanted to avoid drawing Alula's eyes and those of any predators who would take Dinky away from her.

Infusing her horn with a green aura, Dinky blew through one of her nostrils. The stream of air pushed on the ground, propelling Dinky into the air, where she could glimpse the market better. Wooden stands were scattered about the thoroughfare. Some were parked in the cool shade of the bordering buildings; most were arranged in the middle of the grey cobblestone square, reminding Dinky, upon a second blow of her nostril, of the hedges of a maze garden where a certain draconequus had been released not too long ago.

In the middle of a street stood a stand with a cream-colored mare behind it. "Carrots! Get your fresh carrots right here, see!"

Most ponies feigned fascination with her shriveled roots, then were on their way.

Moaning her sympathy, Dinky watched her deflate.

Then she heard it again, the same voice that had compelled her into using wind magic; snort-hopping again, she craned her neck over.

"Cherries! Oh… cherri-i-i-ees! Fresh offa Do-odge Ju-u-nction!" a quavery voice was practically singing. A piano-ivory hoof was raised theatrically, sticking out like a sore hoof. It looked like something Rarity would do… if she also sounded like Applejack, Dinky thought near the apex of her hop. "Only two-o-o bi-i-its!" the beauty-marked mare sung again, as ten golden pieces knocked on the flat of her stand. "Why thank ya kindly, good sir," she said, as the bits disappeared into a trapdoor; removing her hoof from a lever, she produced five small bumpy bags and slid them towards her patron. "Now you have yerself a wonderful day, there." Giving her cherry-laden patron a familiar pat on his back, she looped back into her chorus: "Cherri-i-ies!"

The cherry pony loosened the strap on her bag so that she could gesture her hoof over her sweet but sweaty wares. Ponies were leaning in closer, their heads stooped, their eyes enraptured. Then came her customers' part: a chorus of 'Oohs', followed by a jingle, a jangle, and jingle-jangle of bits upon her would-be humble stand.

After all her shoppers finally left to pursue the other venues of the market, Cherry Jubilee finally had a moment to herself, which she used to throw a teasing eye-flutter in the direction of the carrot stand, which was as empty as it had been during the entirety of the cherry-related transactions. The carrot vendor pouted, her hooves crossed.

"Aw, poor Golden Harvest," a voice said right by Dinky, startling her into stumbling in midair. She was backflipping wildly; then snorting a scatter-gust that let her float above ground, Dinky landed safely and breathed. "Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"It's okay, Miss Pinkie Pie," Dinky said. Her voice was about as high as Sweetie Belle's, but her tone lacked that refined enunciation that was characteristic of smart ponies like Sweetie Belle and Twilight. Instead, Dinky's tone was sort of floaty, a little like the one her mommy used to use in public. Dinky waited to snort-hop again, then caught up to Pinkie's height. "What are you doing here?"

"Just on my after-lunch pronk. You?"

"Just on my after-lunch hop."

Dinky spluttered, and then she and Pinkie exploded into fits of laughter. They kept laughing even as they hopped and pronked, immune to the gasps beneath them. The crowd kept parting for them to land, and to soar again. Then they whipped their heads around at the same time, in the direction of something that had pierced through the tumult of the market-goers.

It was a neighborly drawl, and it was simply too cute to ignore. "Apples! Git yer fresh apples right here, see! Fresh offa the orchard."

Everypony was dropping what they were buying to see. Some produce vendors were frowning, outraged at being ignored. One of them was Cherry Jubilee, whom Golden Harvest was fluttering her eyelashes at, with the flat of her hoof cratering her cheek and seeming to be why her mouth was peeled back in a smug grin.

Shining proudly on a great big sign was a red barn, which sat quietly in the background to yield the spotlight to three apples painted on the foreground. The sign was mounted onto a shiny wooden stand that was about three times as wide as the others. It was also three times as manned, Dinky realized with a smile, as two familiar fillies poked their heads from above the top of their workstations to join the yellow filly right in-between them.

"Now, now, fellas," the first filly said, "there ain't no need to shove or nothin'. We got plenty 'nough fer everypony."

"Everypony form an orderly line!" the marble-white filly called between her hooves. "We won't take your order unless you're in line!"

"Yeah," the orange filly said, pointing over a lopsided pair of ponies. "So get in line, lady."

The lady's eyes stretched wide in anger. "This is an outrage!" said the lady; the orange filly merely raised her eyebrows. "We are in line."

Frowning, the orange filly pushed herself up to check that the lady and her daughter were standing inside an imaginary boundary that demarcated 'the line'. Or at least that's what it seemed like, until the orange filly grinned devilishly at the daughter.

"Sorry," the orange filly said, getting back into her seat, "but them's the rules, lady. Back of the line!"

She pointed an imperious hoof, at which the pink mare's eye twitched.

An elbow on the stand, the orange filly watched her with nothing but amusement.

Finally, the mare snorted. "Hmph!" she said. Snout upturned, she turned, dignified, and marched away. The surrounding ponies scurried away, clearing a wide berth between themselves and the mare who acted like she had much better things to do than spare her gaze upon the peasants shrunken before her. "Come on, Diamond Tiara."

"Yes, Mother," the smaller of the ponies droned.

And she scampered through the parting in the crowd — that is, until a whistling sound made the little pink pony jump with a pig-like squeal; landing, she turned.

The orange filly was pulling her eye down, a tongue stuck out.

The pink filly gladly returned the gesture.

"DIAMOND TIARA! YOU CAN PLAY WITH YOUR FRIENDS LATER!"

Shooting the orange filly one last glare, Diamond Tiara disappeared into the crowd.

The orange filly was watching her rejoin her crumpled-faced mother at the back of the line, which was about twenty ponies long now.

Putting her hindlegs up, the orange filly nested her head against the back of her forelegs. "I can't wait to do that again when they come back," she said with a twisted snicker, angling her head towards her friends expectantly.

As it transpired, her friends weren't paying attention. "Hi, Dinky!" Applebloom and Sweetie Belle said.

"Hi, Applebloom!" Dinky said, waving at the highest point of her snort-hop, but disappearing before she could wave again. So she hopped again. "Hi, Sweetie Belle!" And again. "Hi, Scootaloo!"

Dinky was about to ask about their latest crusade — an anxious non-spoilt customer badgered Scootaloo; another started giving his order to Sweetie; Applebloom was already waving off her first customer of the day — but then she took the hint.

"Huh?" she said.

A cream-colored hoof had hailed her. Somepony called her name again, and was waving a wrapped bundle her way. "Lilies? They're in season!" she said, excitement raising her voice to a song.

"No, thank you, Miss Roseluck," Dinky said, continuing to snort-hop over the heads of the market patrons. "I'm just looking for my mommy!" She hopped again. "Maybe later, though." She hopped higher still, and waved, unaware of the ponies pointing at the little hooves wobbling above their heads. "See ya!"

"Ooh!" said Pinkie, landing in front of Roseluck's stand to lean her snout closer to the proferred lily bundle. "I'll take some!"

Roseluck smiled. "That'll be six bits!"

Dinky landed beside Pinkie as the trade was taking place.

Once it was done, the two resumed soaring over everypony's head like a joke that nopony else but they could get.

Sadly, the springing and the snorting could not last.

"I gotta get back to Sugarcube Corner," Pinkie explained (Dinky went 'Aww…'). "Sorry. Catch ya in a bit!"

"Bye, Miss Pinkie!" Dinky said, waving after her.

With a kind tilt of the head, Pinkie waved back.

And then she pronked out of sight, leaving Dinky hopping all by herself.

Wiping the sheen off her brow, Dinky looked up: it was a hot day. And the cobblestones were hotter, which did not surprise Dinky as she sprung her legs against them. Like a cat ready to pounce, she crouched low.

Onlookers pointed as they walked around her. Their murmured concern was coddling albeit fleeting, lost within the busyness of the day, lasting for as long as she was in sight and within earshot, as far as Dinky was concerned.

Dinky felt her chest puffing out, her lungs expanding with the fresh full scent of Equestrian air.

And then she blew. "WOOOOHOOHOOOO!"

She was launched a good twenty meters into the air before the shoppers noticed what was up: Her!

Diamond Tiara and her mother were squinting up.

Twenty bits lay forgotten under Sweetie Belle's hoof, and so did the bag of apples that sat between her and Fluttershy, who stared, mouth agape.

Dinky was waving feverishly as she continued to ascend. If any of the Cutie Mark Crusaders waved back at her, Dinky was probably too far up to see them. Or maybe, she wondered, she just didn't squint hard enough to see them.

It was a very clear day. No clouds to remind her of their frigid wrath; just the sun and its heat on her back as she watched the marketplace shrink into the ground. Hooves were pointing, mouths were gasping; she felt all of Ponyville looking her way.

Dinky blinked.

And now it was all a big muffled blur of shapes and dots that were hazy in the heat.

If Dinky had to imagine what parachute-diving was like — and she had to imagine, since her mommy wouldn't let her try it, no matter how many times she asked — she would probably say it was how she was soaring into the air at that moment, except in reverse.

Visoring her eyes, she squinted eastward. "Whoa…" she breathed.

A giant mountain speared high into the sky, barely seeming to move as the little foal continued her ascent. White towers clung to the rocky face, standing white and majestic against the bright blue skies. The Castle City of Canterlot seemed to glow against the midday sun, its radiance like that of the Princess who called it home.

"Home…" Dinky murmured. The word brought a smile to her numb jiggling cheeks. To the great skies above she looked. Freedom tingled through her skin; wonder shone through her golden eyes; adventure burnt like a trapped ember within her little heart. She glanced down. "Home…"

A sigh escaped her lips — followed by a gasp. "Whoa, slow down there, kid."

Dinky was swinging back and forth like a pendulum that included her hindleg.

Keeping her feathery grip on it was a blue mare with rainbow-colored hair and violet-colored eyes. With a sleight of wing, the mare draped Dinky onto her back. "Yo. Kid," Rainbow Dash said, cricking her shoulder to gaze wearily at Dinky. "How many times are you gonna do this?"

Dinky giggled into her hoof. "I don't know," she said in a would-be innocent voice.

Dash rolled her eyes. "Alright, you know the drill."

Once Dinky wrapped her forelegs around Dash's neck, Dash was off.

No matter how many times Dinky was scolded by Rainbow Dash, shooting herself miles into the air would never not be fun for Dinky.

Her muzzle was squished against the back of Dash's head. Dash and Dinky were both sweating beneath their fur.

Both of Dash's hooves were aimed straight for the bundle of shapes and dots that was Ponyville. Both of her wings were flat, cutting through the unexpected thickness of the air.

Personally, she felt it was criminal to not exercise her birthright, her inheritance.

Dinky took in the sights. At her current altitude, the barn where Applebloom lived looked small as it passed fast below. Under the heat and its waves, it was oddly jaggy.

Winds were streaming past the duo. "What?" Dinky gasped over her shoulder.

"I said," Dash was shouting over the excited squees of the wind, "we're almost there!"

Dash turned up her wings, like they were sails for the sunlight beating down on her. She flapped once, pausing for a second before she flapped twice more.

She passed the town hall, which was the tallest building in Ponyville. Dinky watched it shrink into the background; the familiar tumult of the market was returning to her ears. "Alright," Dash announced, "we're here!"

It took Dinky a second to recognize the market square.

Ponies stopped their shopping to stare up at the two; a few faces were familiar. Most foals were pointing, their eyes sparkling with wonder and awe as Rainbow Dash watched the ground she was flapping gusts against. Some foals were unnecessarily tugging for their mothers' attention, unabashed by the layers of dust being swept against their flanks.

And then Dash landed, with Dinky disembarking, landing beside her not long after.

Had Dinky not spotted a grey mare shoving her way through the crowd of ponies around her, she might have assumed she wasn't in trouble. But she had, and therefore she was.

Wrapped over the torso of Ditzy Doo was a light-green explorer's vest. Sweat beaded at the end of each stray strand of her shiny yellow mane. Throwing aside her plinth hat, Ditzy shook off the sweat and the heat and stomped against the cobblestone, which to Dinky's surprise, did not crack under her. Her eyes were golden, much like her daughter Dinky's. Unlike Dinky's, her eyes were mismatched; her left eye seemed to rattle with each footfall, while her other eye glared straight ahead.

In unison, Dinky's and Dash's eyes shrunk. "Uh-oh," they said.

Dash saluted Dinky. "Good luck, buddy," Dash said.

She arched her back, set her sights skyward, and flared her wings.

And then her hooves left the ground. "Hooool' up there, pardner."

Scoffing, Dash looked behind her. "Seriously? Again? You really gotta stop doing that one of these days."

Chuckling giddily between strands of rainbow-flavored tail was an apple horse who was the color of a fresh orange. "Yep. Cooome on," she drawled, while Dinky was wondering what the deal was with her color scheme. "I think it's time we owe Miss Explorer here the truth, plain and simple, see."

Dash huffed, her hooves crossed. "Fine."

And she landed, turning around to find Applejack, Ditzy and Dinky facing her.

"You mind telling me what you've been doing with Dinky, Rainbow Dash?" Ditzy asked in a low voice.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Dash said, putting her hooves up and darting her eyes around. Everypony was staring at her, some even throwing accusatory glares her way, which despite her predicament, she had to roll her eyes at. Dash gestured around to the watching crowd. "Just ask around! They saw what happened. This is like the twentieth time this week."

Ditzy raised an eyebrow. "Twentieth time for what?"

At this point in the conversation, Dinky had a mind to run for it. Muttering something about getting Mommy's hat, she did — only for Mommy to spread her wing wide to block her. Ditzy looked over her shoulder on her bad side, and though her eye didn't quite show it, the gesture of a warning look was not missed by Dinky.

Dash stammered; Ditzy remained silent, expectant.

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Applejack was calling to the crowd. "Ain't nothin' ta see here. Quit yer idlin' about. I'm sure we all got busy-making to do." But the onlookers remained as still as statues, their eyes shameless. "Go on, git! That there Summer Sun Celebration sure ain't gonna make itself all nice and dandy, ya hear?"

Everypony was staring at Applejack now.

One pony went on his way, and his friends followed; like a disease, the order spread throughout the crowd. The tumult of the market was returning; Diamond Tiara's mother was groaning loudly about taking orders from common peasantry. As Roseluck completed the rest of her transaction, she beckoned for her patron's ear to gossip in; Cherry Jubilee finished stuffing her customer's bag with five more cherries than what had been paid for; yawning, Golden Harvest smacked her lips, inwardly cursing her luck. The Cutie Mark Crusaders did their part by resuming business as usual, taking orders, raking in bits, filling and pushing apple bags, calling for the next customer in line with varying degrees of politeness. They only snuck surreptitious glances at the scene that was now unfolding.

The explorer's hat lay some distance away. Concealing it from sight and reach was a constantly shifting maze of legs, fillies, and tail swishes. Dinky waited, and waited… And then she aimed a stream of magic that wended its way through that maze. The hat was struck high into the air, where Dinky was better able to will it into her telekinetic grasp. Ditzy's hat landed on top of her; Dinky had to push it up so that it wouldn't fall over her eyes. "Mommy?" she said.

"Sorry for yelling at you like that, Rainbow," Ditzy said, kicking the ground.

Applejack prodded Ditzy's explorer's vest. "Shame on ya," she said, "fer lettin' poor lil' Dinky here gallivant about all on her lonesome!"

That earned her looks from Ditzy and Dash.

"Um, totally not the time, AJ," Dash snapped.

"Or the place," Dinky piped up. "Ponies are still gawking at us."

Applejack cleared her throat. "I'll, uh, go check on how Applebloom's doing with the stand, then," she said, jabbing her hoof over her shoulder at the aforementioned stand, which she saw was now serving Diamond Tiara's mom.

Applejack did a double-take.

A commotion was in progress: Scootaloo was trying to send Diamond Tiara's mom to the back of the line again; Diamond Tiara's mom wasn't looking too happy about it.

And then Applejack galloped, raising a hoof above herself as she shouted over her shoulder, "Catch up with you later, RD!"

"You know it, AJ!" Rainbow Dash hollered back with a salute.

Ditzy hoisted Dinky onto her back.

"Whu-whoa," Dinky yelped, almost rolling right off.

"Come on," Ditzy said calmly, as Dinky clutched onto her neck for support. "We can talk at my place." Without warning, she took to the air, stopping to wait for Dash, who was staring at a nondescript section of the crowd. "What is it?"

"Thought I saw something back there," Dash muttered, catching up to her, still casting anxious glances below.

"Probably just Zecora," she droned. "Come on. It's this way."

"Um, Mommy?" said Dinky.

"Hold on tight, Dinky," Ditzy said without looking at her.

Dinky pursed her lips. "Okay," she mumbled into her golden mane. Nuzzling in its shiny warmth gave her comfort. A moan hummed between her lips. The sky seemed to exhale around her. This was freedom, she thought with an undertone of irony. Feeling her ears pop, she clung tighter to the grey neck and closed her eyes.

As a little foal, she used to be taken on rides like this at night. The experience never got old to Dinky, who had been born without wings. Ditzy would fly through the airspace above Ponyville, while Dinky would be atop her, being her eyes. They weren't able to go out whenever the moon was new, though, since even Dinky had trouble seeing stuff completely in the dark. Mother and daughter would still crash sometimes, though. Even so, Dinky could never help but giggle.

Neither could Ditzy. Her laugh was Dinky's laugh. Her eyes were Dinky's eyes. Her life was Dinky's life.

The sky continued its hollow toneless hum.

Then a wrinkle pulled at Dinky's shut eyes.

Why couldn't she feel the sun on her back anymore?

Why did it sound like the winds were getting stronger?

Their howls were becoming clearer, their restiveness more palpable by the second.

Lightning struck. "Wait… I know this."

Her horn was shining more brightly than usual. Her hooves were no longer dangling over a grey-furred torso; now they stood, small but erect, upon rippling green grass.

She lifted a hoof to find a daisy had been hiding under it. What's more, all around her, identical daisies had sprung up unbeknownst to her. Each had a golden core. The white petals moved oddly in the wind, almost like they were more made of fleeting fire than fragile fibers.

Thunder boomed, recalling Dinky to her surroundings.

She was standing inside a garden. It had felt like just yesterday when she was galloping anxiously to the source of the answers she had been seeking at the time. Now she stood still, with all the answers in her heart and all the turbulence it carried.

The strands of her mane were whipping about.

The flashes of lightning were hot against her solemnly shut eyes.

The walls were rectangular, an enclosure for the garden within. Now, the walls were breaking apart.

Broken stone and orphaned trees swirled helplessly about Dinky. Dust specks were pecking at her face, as though to remind her of the destruction taking place before her.

Voices beckoned to her, forced her to look.

And when she did, she couldn't move. She could only watch, trembling, powerless to help them. They were more than just specks in her golden eyes; they were her stars, to whom she looked for guidance when she most needed them. Their screams were louder to her heart than the cyclonic roars were to her ears. She was shouting over and over again. "Mommy! Aunt Daring!"

"Yes," came a voice. "I'm here."

Dinky looked around, confused. The voice had issued seemingly from nowhere. And as gentle as it was, it was clearer, louder than the winds that slapped at her. She wished for all of it to stop.

A swooping sensation overcame her.

Turning her hoof over, she gasped: Though it was exactly the shade of periwinkle, she could see right through it, at the grass and the curious flowers, and at another unicorn filly the color of periwinkle. That filly's eyes were closed; she was lifting her foreleg to her chest. The filly didn't seem to be moving; nor did the flowers around her. The gusts were just grey brushstrokes that were painted over the airborne debris and the lost ponies; their screams and hers — extinguished.

The only thing that was alive in that mural was the magic swirling about the unicorn filly's horn.

Blinking out its light, Dinky spotted Ditzy and Daring. Yet, what were they now, but dying stars set against a mural of chaos and pain? Still, Dinky had to try to reach out. And as soon as she did, the futility of the gesture made itself known: She drifted away, from the other her, the palace, and her family. The more she tried to reach out, the more she was pulled away.

She tried to open her mouth to call out for them again, but found she couldn't. She felt like she was drowning.

Soon, she was far enough to see it: The scene at the palace seemed to be frozen in time, an island of detail and trauma, floating in the middle of a dark void where nothing else existed, not even the sound of her screams.

No matter how much she swam to it, it only seemed to get farther away. The longer she swam, the more it occurred to her how hopeless the motion was.

She stopped.

The emptiness was seeping into her. Hugging herself, she tried to ignore how much her veins were freezing.

In her dull stare, there she was: Another her, a beacon that was fading fast.

Dinky blinked.

And then the other her was gone.

The real Dinky curled up.

It was hard to tell how long it had been before she heard a voice. Unfortunately, it was one she could not rise from her despair to answer. When it came, excitement swooped over her like a blanket over her slumbering form. Still, she did not stir.

The voice came again, as clear as though Ditzy had just whispered right into her ear. "Mommy?" said Dinky, opening her eyes.

Nopony answered.

She curled herself up again.

A force came, one that pushed her forward, and then pulling her back.

And then forward.

And then back again…

It would be a short few hours before the Running of the Leaves began. Red and gold painted the treetops, underlining a crisp autumn morning. A clean dirt path lay nestled within, waiting to be trampled upon. A cool force swept through it. Miraculously, not a thing budged: Not the dirt, nor the trees, nor the leaves — save for one.

An exotic leaf was flapping off the end of a branch, eager to be free. And then it got its wish: Leaf and wood parted.

The leaf swerved into a loop that sent it spinning wildly above. Once it was high enough, it froze, seeming to have decided that was how high it would go that day. Its fun was had; and so it swayed, back and forth, back and forth, meandering its way down, ahead of schedule.

When the leaf touched the ground, Dinky heard it: Somepony groaning from faraway.

"M-mommy?" she thought verbally. No longer did she have a mouth to speak. No eyes with which to look; no body — not even a see-through one.

That's when a jolt hit her body. Suddenly her mind was travelling a million miles away.

The wrinkling nose didn't feel like it was hers; not at first. The same word was being murmured over again, mindlessly and out of instinct. The head was rolling from side to side, as if to shake off invisible flies. The chest was pounding rapidly. Now that her fur was fully tangible again, it was renewed with forgotten sweat.

Familiar light shone against her eyelids. Familiar too was the fabric on which she lay. She knew where she was, but half of her still felt like she was napping in the middle of the sea, on a liferaft that felt and smelt just like the Doo living room sofa.

"Home…" she echoed for the second time that day — or was it still today? Dinky rubbed her throat; her voice did not quite feel quite like her own yet.

There came a metallic whine, one that she had learnt to associate with sweet things.

That was when Dinky fully awakened, her ears perked up. She peeked over the back of the sofa.

"Muffins!" a certain somepony sang, shutting the oven door. "Oh, Dinky. You're awake."

The voice almost sounded disappointed; Dinky had to repeat it in her mind, sure that she had mistaken the tone.

A tray clattered on the wooden coffee table before her.

"So," said Ditzy said, plopping down two cushions over, cross-legged. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What? Tell you about what?" The longer she found herself in the deadpan pupil of her mother's eye, the more Dinky started to remember. "…Oh. Oh," she said, bowing her head. "Oh." Looking up again, she started to beg. "I woulda told you sooner, but — "

"You were having too much fun," Ditzy interrupted, folding her forelegs. "Rainbow Dash told me." Dinky swore under her breath. "Language, young mare."

"Sorry, Mommy! Sorry!" said Dinky. But Ditzy's face was as rigid as a gargoyle's. "I promise not to do it again!"

Ditzy pointed to the muffin tray. "Eat your dinner, Dinky."

Dinky glanced out the window. "But it's not even sundown yet!"

"And use your hooves," Ditzy suggested, taking to the air.

"My hooves?" she said, nonplussed; she peered over the back of the sofa. "What for?"

And just like that, Dinky was talking to an empty staircase.

A slam came from upstairs, specifically from the direction of Ditzy's bedroom.

A sigh deflated out of Dinky. She found herself blankly appraising her dinner: Twelve muffins. From them billowed thin trails of smoke that made her retch her tongue out. "Again?" she said, shoulders slumped.

She did not look forward to salvaging whatever nutrients the ash had spared. But she hadn't eaten since that morning.

Deciding she would make do, she spotted the least-burnt muffin of the batch. A levitation spell would have easily extricated it from the melted bread and sugar. So that's what Dinky decided on, despite her mommy's 'suggestion'.

"Huh?"

When Dinky had concentrated into her horn, she found that it did not hum or whir like it usually did. Something was buzzing above her, like an invisible fly. She groaned knowingly, and tapped her horn anyway; something metal was muffling it.

"Figures," she said, falling forward to plant her chin on the armrest.

A glance at the wallclock told her that a little over half a day remained until midnight.

The ghost of a familiar aroma teased her again; her eyes wandered back to the smoking mess. She thought of how much love her so-called mommy had put into baking this. Something awful churned within her, and it sure wasn't the travesties that were mocking her at that moment.

Springing a hindleg back, Dinky kicked.

The clattering of the tray was lost in the muffle of the living room carpet. Muffins rolled ashen trails along the floor, and those trails spiraled into patterns that an overly avid art aficionado would be mad enough to declare 'genius'.

Clamping a woven yarn-like pillow over her ear, Dinky buried her face into the pocket of a back-cushion.

She had just slept; her dream was already an unimportant, long-forgotten mess of vagueness that she couldn't be bothered to care about even if she weren't upset. The day wasn't over yet.

Worse things had stopped Dinky Doo.