Dinky Doo: The Scion of Wind

"So if this precedes… hm… that… then this can only mean… Hm… Hmph. No. No, no. No."

"Hm… Well, actually… you may be onto something."

"No. No, no, no. I'm not. It just can't be it; it simply can't. You see here? Here. This swirl, the curve of it… It's part of the rest. But in context, it… it just doesn't fit."

Lying open on cream-colored grass was an old, otherwise nondescript book. Its cover had been crunched ominously apart to reveal densely packed text, which had been printed on pages that might have been white and pristine once, but were now yellow with age. There were enough of these pages that the book was thicker than a whole hoof. Dust had puffed up to greet Ditzy Doo when she opened this book, like it was one of Dinky's pranks.

Sitting before this book was Ditzy Doo, once more in her explorer's vest. She had not washed from it the sweat of the day before.

Frowning at some pages, Ditzy slid them callously away. Decades, perhaps centuries of forgotten grainy detritus percolated from the caramel-colored blur that followed. Her snout wrinkled, and her eyes stung; worse things had stopped her. She leaned in closer to the text and figures that were fleeing past her scrutiny; they seemed reticent, shy.

Ditzy was regarding them, meanwhile, like she regarded Dinky once after walking in on her in the shower. Dinky had just been taking a shower, like on any other night. Yet, it had been on that particular night when she decided to be embarrassed to be caught naked. "Dinky, we're always naked," Ditzy had droned. "I've seen you naked before."

"Not while I'm wet!" Dinky had replied, utterly mortified; Ditzy had given her a flat stare, blinked lethargically, and walked away without another word. "Wait, you forgot to close the door!"

Ditzy still remembered it like it was yesterday. With that same stare she had given Dinky, she studied the slowing pages. After they stopped, Ditzy made no effort to flip through them again.

Beside her, her colleague poked her snout closer to the tome.

The colleague was equipped with travelling gear not unlike Ditzy's: The vest was light, had plenty of pockets, and it was hoof-woven with rough fibers that would camouflage blend in with most jungles in Southern Equestria. The plinth hat was light and sturdy, and whatever disadvantages it had were well-worth the extra protection. At the moment, one disadvantage was that it pushed the highlighted bangs further into the eyes of Ditzy's colleague, a lavender unicorn mare, whenever she tilted her head down to read; she was still getting used to it. Pushing the hat back up, she squinted at the book; her mouth creased down.

"Yeah… that definitely doesn't look right," Twilight Sparkle said bluntly, drawing back to let Ditzy close the book on the lost cause. "Is there something on your mind, Miss Doo?"

The hilltop that Twilight and Ditzy were sitting on was tall, lonely, and imposing. From there, they could see the surrounding treetops; each one was sprinkled with dim layers of light in the otherwise gloomy realm. The forest was hissing all around. Strands of wind were slithering up the hilltop. The creamy crabgrass beneath Ditzy's haunches was nodding, a blade or two prodding her for her attention. Her golden locks loosened themselves from her sweat and frustration. "Miss Doo? Ditzy?"

A sigh squeezed out from between grey lips. "Dinky's growing up, Twilight."

Twilight hung a foreleg around Ditzy's neck and angled her neck to give her a solicitous look. "Oh? In what way?"

Ditzy absently caressed a bald dirt patch as she answered. "Ever since we came back from Haissan, things just haven't been the same. She's got her Cutie Mark now. She's going to the market on her own, picking up groceries when Daring and I are too busy. Not to mention her magic's getting way better. Not that I'm ungrateful, obviously," she added half-apologetically to Twilight.

Twilight giggled. "Obviously," she said, trying her hoof at tracing her own patch of dirt. "If it helps, Sweetie Belle is a much faster learner. So you're not the only mom who feels like that."

Parting hoof from dirt, Ditzy appraised her work; she could safely say it was the most work she had been able to do since she started researching the mysteries of the Wabe.

To Ditzy Doo, macaroni art was a tired cliche thing. Her opinion of it had not changed, not even after she had become a mother, and certainly not even after her own daughter Dinky Doo had presented her own contribution to the starchy craft to her for her approval. At first, Ditzy had been half-appalled and half-surprised; but then, whatever feelings she had melted into adoration at the sight of Dinky gazing up at her, the innocence and naïveté of youth shining like the sun through the gold of her little muffin's eyes. Therefore, Ditzy had raved her fake amazement about it once she brought Dinky home.

Now, Ditzy could no longer remember the adjectives she had used to describe Dinky's macaroni art. Her rational mind could explain many things. What it could not explain was why the memory of that piece of macaroni art had chosen to stay with her mind for all these years.

It was like a stray dog that would follow a pony wherever they went, no matter how many times the pony would scold it. In time, the pony would warm up to the stray. In time, they would finally do what dog and pony knew was all but done.

It was a time-worn story, one that Ditzy also thought to be cliché.

Before her it now lay: a muffin engraved onto the strange soil, a perfect facsimile of what Dinky had made that day.

"Nice drawing," said Twilight.

"Thanks. It's not mine."

"You know," Twilight said, trailing off.

"What?"

"If Dinky's growing up so fast, then she probably has you to thank for it."

Ditzy laughed. "Really? I feel like I've been a lousy mother lately."

"Psh, nonsense, nonsense! Your work here is important, Dit — Miss Doo."

Twilight cleared her throat while Ditzy snorted, smiling. "Please, Twilight. 'Ditzy' is fine. But lately, she also isn't. Is her work here important? Is her need to cope with the mystery of her father's death really more important than the care and attention her foal needs right now?"

Twilight paused for a moment before answering. "Fair enough," she said, settling on that. "Still, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Ditzy. Your work is important, too. And so are you."

A hopeful smile crossed Ditzy's lips. "Thanks, Twilight. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that." A weight was lifting off Ditzy's shoulders; it wasn't just Twilight's foreleg. And it could have just been Ditzy, but she thought that the wrinkles she had accumulated in the past few moons were uncreasing.

Twilight was sitting prim and proper with her forehooves planted in front of her, her hindlegs wound about them like a river about a stalagmite. She was gazing high above her; it wasn't exactly hard for Ditzy to imagine, in that moment, Twilight as a little filly, staring expectantly for her teacher to start lecturing.

Her curiosity was infectious, which was why Ditzy also turned her eyes to the spectacle.

Looming overhead were little shadows, and littler still they became as they drifted soundlessly towards her face. In anticipation, Ditzy watched; and she couldn't help but be reminded of the stars in her oft-dazed eyes. A feeling ran over her face, one of expectation: that the ethereal things would freckle her face like snow on a quiet wintry night. Feelings mattered little in this strange dimension; she had winced, even though she had felt absolutely nothing.

Tree branches littered the skyspace in clusters; eager and endless, they seemed to be vying for the heavens shining high above. The higher the branches reached, the smaller, blurrier, and less existent they seemed to become. They seemed to be basking in the facsimile of sunlight, the sole source of illumination in this mystical world.

That illumination was peeking past the branches, and at the mares sitting beneath the canopy they formed.

The otherworldly radiance was wasted on Ditzy's mismatched eyes.

"So?" came a voice from faraway. "What do you make of it?"

Ditzy rattled the nausea from her head. "Looks sort of like your library back home, that's for sure," she said to Twilight. "With… some notable differences."

"Of course, of course," said Twilight, nodding. "Although it seems to have changed drastically since the first time I came here. For one, it's certainly more arboreal in shape and form. For instance, the dial part seems to have manifested elsewhere. Perhaps further up…?" She did not wait for Ditzy's answer. "Hm…"

Twilight took a moment to squint more at the carvings of the tree-like structure. It was tree-like in that it both sprouted and gnarled from the base of a tree trunk. It towered over the hilltop and the forest too, a sentinel for it all. It looked wooden, too; but so far neither Ditzy nor Twilight had dared to confirm by way of touch that the Sundial was indeed made of wood. Ditzy's father had died tampering with it; ever since Ditzy and Twilight had discovered it in this new form, they did not risk following in his footsteps.

Ditzy gritted her teeth at it as it stood there, spiraling without aim or purpose into the bright unknown, oblivious to who it had taken from her. Her dizziness and frustration concealed other feelings that arose within her every time she approached the Sundial, feelings that seemed to dissipate before she had a chance to vocalize and therefore validate.

Of those feelings, she had been able to discern two.

One of them was not a personal feeling — it was a feeling that somehow, the Sundial was alive.

An intrepid sun-like ray was peeking at a patch of dirt; from it, a thin cream-colored something was coiling up, as though to rise from a long nap. Ditzy had to blink hard, just to make sure her eye was working properly: The tentacle was bouncing up and down, swaying to and fro, like an excited dancer who finally had her turn in the spotlight. "Still not making sense of it," Ditzy murmured, edging her hoof away from the dancing grass blade.

Twilight huffed. "That's the Wabe for you," she said, stretching her forelimbs.

She and Ditzy stood up.

A bright oval sat at the foot of that uneventful hill.

The oval turned into a square.

The square became a rectangle.

It was something shaped suspiciously like a pegasus.

Then it was spinning by too fast to Ditzy to keep track of it. On every previous visit to the Wabe, Ditzy had always hung back, claiming that she was on the cusp of finally uncovering the meaning of some rune while delegating to Twilight the logistics of getting back to their world. Ditzy lacked the enthusiasm to hang back during this visit.

"Intuitive, right?" Twilight said to Ditzy, who was stroking her chin at the spinning mirror.

"Yeah," replied Ditzy, who hadn't seen this many colors since the last semester of her doctoral studies at Canterlot U, when she bunked with a freshman by the name of Tree Hugger. "I'm pretty sure I could figure it out with a little bit of trial and error."

The Wabe was purported by Twilight and Pinkie to be connected to every point of space, to every point in time that ever happened and / or existed.

A noise was made, interrupting Ditzy's thoughts.

The mirror was now an oval again.

Not until the image in it stopped rippling and the room of a Pinkamena Diane Pie came into focus did Ditzy recognize, upon her second hearing of it, the noise that a noisemaker made.

An indigo hoof pressed against the inscrutable surface, which lit up. At that moment, it became apparent how sharply the colors and saturation of Ponyville clashed with the gloomy darkness of the Wabe.

Twilight leapt through, rainbow halos echoing in her wake.

It wasn't long before she poked her head back through. "Coming?"

"I'll catch up," Ditzy said, still squinting. Holding her hoof up in goodbye, she hoped her smile was convincing enough.

Twilight's face was almost as hard to decipher as the Sundial. "Be safe."

Then she popped back into Pinkie's room. Ditzy watched her approach the stairs, glance at the grey mare at the other side of the mirror, then trot down.

A chorus of partygoers greeted her as she disappeared downstairs: "Twilight!" Then another round of noisemakers hailed her, this time mixed in with party poppers and something that sounded suspiciously like a party cannon.

"Agh, Pinkie!"

"Oopsie, sorry," Pinkie giggled.

What little Ditzy could see of the exchange she slid away.

Now she sat, alone and a dimension away, with nothing else but the echo of a party for company. The smile she had faked for Twilight was now a wistful grimace. Ditzy felt so alone, so away from it all, and in more than just the physical and metaphysical sense.

The mirror before her was a link, a nexus point at which all elements of space-time converged.

So Ditzy worked the mirror.

In the darkness, the forest rustled around her, more restive than usual. The wind seemed to hiss warnings between the trees.

The pictures and visual noise passed over Ditzy's listless eyes.

It was hard for Ditzy to say how she knew to stamp on the mirror when she did. Her lack of surprise was equally hard to explain.

The mirror was showing a scene from some years ago.

Ditzy planted both forehooves on the grass and watched.

The room was large enough for two patients.

A mare was being led into it, and then she was being led out on a wheelchair, her stomach less full and her forelegs heavier. Another mare came in, and came out. From Ditzy's perspective, it took only a few seconds for this cycle of action to run through to completion. But she knew from personal experience that it took more than a few hours, maybe a few days.

It might have looked like Ditzy was just outside the ward, peeping out from the naughty side of the window. Beside the window was a bed, which was being occupied a certain sleeping mare. That mare's belly was no longer swollen. Though disheveled, her golden locks were fuller, more saturated than the present-day Ditzy's locks.

Unbeknownst to Ditzy, she was winding her hair about her hoof.

Soft snoring punctuated the otherwise quiet ward. "Is that what I look like while I sleep?" she muttered.

She gasped: The image was undulating from her words.

She sat, frozen, fearful. Would somepony notice? she thought, before shaking her head; she had been alone in that ward that day.

Sunlight spring spilt in through the window, casting enough glare over Ditzy's face that she could look to her heart's desire. And to her heart's desire she looked. In her younger self's forelegs was a bundle; it squirmed, it whined, as though it could somehow sense Ditzy beyond the looking-glass. Its eagerness, its longing tugged at her, and she was only all-too willing to oblige.

She knew it was wrong; she also knew she did not care.

The little hoof poked out, anxious to get her mother's attention. Soon, she would get it; just for a little while, Ditzy assured herself. So onto the periwinkle hoof she locked her eyes on, desperate to reach out; Ditzy's own was approaching, ready to breach the surface.

Clear ripples billowed from where the grey hoof kissed the mirror.

"I would not do that if I were you."

Gasping, Ditzy wheeled around, her wings flared, her body lowered. "Who's there!?"

He stepped out from the shadows between a pair of trees. His legs were long and a shade or two greyer than Ditzy's. The lines beneath his eyes were like carvings of a weathered stone bust. The bells on his starry blue hat jangled, which was when Ditzy realized whom she was antagonizing.

"Starswirl the Bearded," she breathed, standing up; folding her grey wings, she curtsied. "It's an honor, sir. Twilight told me all about you." Not to mention stuck out like a sore hoof at Nightmare Night by dressing as him.

Starswirl the Bearded passed her by, and Ditzy turned to see him pausing his hoof over the reflection of personal memories she was embarrassed to let anypony see. "This portal," he said, his growl quiet, "is a curse." White swirls fumed from his nostrils as he shifted his gaze to Ditzy behind her. "Everypony has moments in their lives they wish to relive. They remember such moments with excessive fondness. They take the present for granted. They would forsake what little life they have left mourning for that which is lost to them forever." Shaking his head, he turned around and lit his horn, which reflected the same white energy encasing the mirror. "They forget to live, Miss Doo. Time is but a hollow word in this realm. Here, one could waste away before this accursed contraption without end. Best to live in the present, I think."

Sweeping past Ditzy, Starswirl made for the darkness between the trees.

Ditzy waited until he disappeared.

And once again, she was alone.

She sighed.

Another chorus of noisemakers called for Ditzy's attention; Pinkie's room was in view.

Lifting her forehoof, Ditzy stepped through.

She hadn't noticed how muffled and subdued the Wabe was, not until she was out of it. Nor had she noticed how stuffy it was there, until a rush of air swooped upon her from an open window. Hanging onto her hat, Ditzy looked at the day: it was still young and bright. Sunlight bounced violet off the carpet, and teal off the blanket that was tucked neatly onto the bed; it was enough to hurt a pony's eyes.

And Ditzy loved it.

Her skin was tingling as it re-acclimated to the cheery ambience of Ponyville.

The panels beneath her were vibrating with cheers of glee and youth that she had long forgotten. "Wait, did you hear that?" said somepony on the ground floor.

With a renewed smile on her face, Ditzy walked down the stairs.

"Mommy, Mommy!"

Surprise took her, in the form of her little muffin.

"Heh, heh," chuckled Ditzy, love radiating through her body from where Dinky was hugging her. Mother tousled daughter's mane. "Happy birthday, Dinky. Go on, play with your little friends now."

"Okay!"

When Dinky withdrew, she blew streams of starry wind to untangle her mane.

Watching her scamper off, Ditzy continued to hold her smile, which was a mask now.

Faces formed the fabric of the party's livelihood. Over the past eight years, Ditzy had come to learn and love the look of many of them: Berry Punch, a pink earth pony who was standing on her hindlegs chatting and chugging animately with a glass of her-colored punch and a circle of her non-beverage friends, which included the local apple farmer Applejack; the Doctor, who was by no means popular with the foals but was acquainted closely enough with Ditzy to have been invited. Then there were the younger faces whom she had known as fillies: Twilight Sparkle, whose vest and hat were being gushed over by Rarity. Lemonheart, Minuette, and Twinkleshine, three unicorns from Canterlot, were joining in. Lemonheart tugged at the vest, which Twilight gladly explained the materialistic composition of, while Minuette pushed the plinth hat off her head and Twinkleshine patted the hat right onto her bangs again. Twilight thanked the two. "You're welcome," Minuette and Twinkleshine chorussed. Then Twilight resumed explaining the more delicate nuances of camouflage to a dreamy-eyed Lemonheart, who was nodding her head vaguely, going "Uh-huh" in regular cadence. Meanwhile, Minuette and Twinkleshine looked at each other before slamming their red, taut faces onto the floor, hoping that it would muffle their giggling while their hooves would curtain it. Scoffing, Rarity rolled her eyes at the whole affair. It was clear that Dinky had made many friends at school, because many of them had shown up; of them, a white unicorn filly was talking with her right now.

Tables were laid out on the ground level of Sugarcube Corner. Trays of cheesecake, gelato, and so many desserts that would be typical of a confectionery were out for anypony to take. A single bowl of punch sat on the table nearest the center of the ground floor; it was the same table with a dark-goldenrod foreleg leaning on it.

"What?" the mare there was saying, giving an unconcerned glance at her metal wing, which she flexed. "This ol' thing? I got it after a fight with an alicorn."

A chorus of breathy "Awe's" showered the mare, who took another sip of punch from a glass.

"Yep, yep," Daring said, as Ditzy walked over, "true story. You can ask my dork of a sister."

She raised her glass, a signal for the schoolfoals to swivel around and cause Ditzy to freeze midstep.

"Ooh…"

"Aah…"

Ditzy felt like she was on-stage. In the audience stood Daring Do, whose eyes she had shaded by tilting her plinth hat at an expert angle forward; her teeth were flashed in a grin that was way too cocky for anypony's good.

"Wow, so you're Daring Do's sister?"

"That's so cool!"

"And I thought you were just Ponyville's goofy mailmare! Ouch, hey!"

"Did you fight Ahuizotl?"

"Forget that. What about that alicorn you and Daring fought?"

"Scootaloo, you were there!"

"Whoops," chuckled an orange filly, rubbing her now twice-bruised head. "Heh, heh."

A great pink bow sat atop the head of a yellow filly, who was clicking her tongue in disapproval, the shake of her head reminiscent of a mother who knew better. Then she peeked an eye open; she and her friend Scootaloo spluttered into a giggling fit — a fit that ended in a hiccup as their attention was seized, their amazement causing their mouths to fall open.

Nor were they the only ones, for standing proudly on the table Daring had up until a few seconds ago occupied was everypony's favorite blue pegasus mare. "Alright, kids. Who wants to hear the story of how I saved a filly from thousands of miles in the air?"

"Ooh, ooh! Ow, stop doing that, Applebloom!"

"You were there for that, too."

"Yeah, but…"

"Didn't you, like, almost crash into town square?" asked a pink filly, raising her hoof. "Hey, my tiara! Give it back!!!"

"Whoops," said Scootaloo, dimple-faced.

Impatiently snatching her royal headgear back, the pink filly readjusted it onto her head, where it rightfully belonged. Then she blew a quick raspberry at Scootaloo, who playfully returned the gesture a second later.

Rainbow Dash cleared her throat.

"Ooh, ooh," whinnied a grey-blue colt, jumping up and down, "tell us about the time you fought that alicorn from that sandy place!"

"Yeah, well," said Dash, brushing her chest unconcernedly and inspecting her hoof afterwards. "That's a really long story, if you really wanna hear it."

The sparkles in Scootaloo's eyes only grew. "DO I!?"

Applebloom buried her face in her hooves.

"…just until the end of the party," Daring was whispering by the punch table; downing the rest of her glass, she wiped her mouth, and exhaled a refreshed breath before setting the emptied glass down. "Look, what are you getting so worked-up over? I made her ride on my back all day."

"So what were you doing?" Ditzy demanded, jabbing her sister in the vest.

"Delivery duty, obviously," she droned, rolling her eyes until they were locked in a withering gaze with her sister. "For both of us," she added, slapping the grey hoof aside and jabbing her sister in the vest. "Plus the load you missed yesterday. Your boss is scary, Ditz. Also, he's got bad taste in literature, I tell ya."

"Sorry," Ditzy forced out of her breath, eyes averted.

"Yeah, sure," Daring said, blowing a lock of her black-grey mane up and also looking away, except she was cooler and more aloof at it.

"…was a cyclone, see. It was conjured by none other than the evil Alicorn of the Wind, Alula! Hey, he-eey," moaned Dash, wings drooping. "I was just getting to the best part!"

Even Scootaloo had turned away to pay her attention to something other than Rainbow Dash.

Shrugging, Rainbow Dash took the metaphorical leaf out of Scootaloo's book; she leaned forward and mounted her chin on her hoof.

All the other party-goers went respectfully silent.

Three confetti squares were rustling like leaves on the bakery floor before they slid into place, connecting end to end like the cars of a train. The train ran its course between a yellow and orange paper square, which wobbled, as though sensing a more fun party; they raced after it. One after the other, they connected to the tail. Other squares jostled in-place; then they were drawn to the sides of the magically-guided construct. Pairs of squares magnetically fitted themselves to the sides of an assimilated confetti square and formed a triangular steeple over it.

Once it was about as long as Discord, the confetti tent-train took to the air, eliciting amazed breaths. Bathed in a green aura, the triangular head of the train twisted, the motion cascading down the rest of the segments that made up its body; the motion sounded like a series of paper dominoes falling, one after another.

It soared; it dove; it undulated like a serpent over the heads of its small breathtaken admirers.

Daring and Ditzy glanced at each other, thinking the same thing. In their younger days, they had gone on a few expeditions to the far reaches of the world. One expedition had taken them to the Dragon Lands. It was on the eastern reaches where they had met a friendly dragon, which was not unlike the one that was at the moment spinning above them like a rainbow halo.

After Ditzy waved, the paper serpent careened away. Watching it were a few colts who looked like they were in half a mind to reach out for it, even though it was high out of reach. The energy radiating from it became greener as it wound close to Dinky, who stood atop a table, her eyes shut in concentration. She seemed to be willing it to weave through an imaginary point just in front of her horn.

Through that needle-hole the paper serpent was threaded. It went around in a wide loop and circled back, drawn to the part of its body stuck in the needle-hole. Once it pierced that part, the scraping of paper became louder, more frantic as it looped back, its destination the same. Over and under, and through the point it wound. The radius of its loops was shortening.

Before long, a giant orb of confetti was gyrating in front of Dinky.

Her audience was getting antsy: Snips and Snails were bouncing up and down, respectively; Scootaloo and Dash were leaning closer, mesmerized; Twilight was squinting her eyes, not angrily, but likely to scrutinize the leylines of the wind magic of an alicorn god as implemented by a unicorn filly.

The orb was getting smaller and smaller, the sound of its scrapes louder and louder. The tightly packed bundle of wind, paper, and color was collapsing in on itself.

And then it did — sort of.

Instead of imploding, it exploded into a maelstrom that blitzed throughout the entire room.

Ditzy opened her eyes to see Dinky, panting and sweating.

The fillies and colts for whom she performed did the same.

They all stared at her; she was looking to them for approval. The silence was thickening between audience and performer.

Ditzy held her breath in suspense; she was worried.

Like the ball of wind for which the silence had been kept, cheers exploded. The floor was trembling with twenty, maybe thirty pairs of stomping forehooves.

"Yay!"

"That was so cool!"

"Did you see that? It soared right over me!"

"Nuh-uh, no, it didn't. It soared over me!"

"They don't teach magic like that at Princess Celestia's School of Magic."

"You don't go there!"

"Actually," Twilight said, putting her two cents in, "they don't. You see, Dinky's magic is unlike yours or mine…"

"Where'd you learn to do that, Dinky?"

"Oh," said Dinky, red-faced, tired, but happy, "it just came to me."

She jumped, astonished, as did the foal who had asked her, and his friends too, for all the way in the back, Daring Do was wringing her hoof up in the air, going, "Woo! Way to go, kid!"

Blushing, Dinky kicked her leg bashfully.

"Stop it," Ditzy said, smiling, "you're embarrassing Dinky."

But not only did Daring not stop it, but she was also clicking her tongue while pointing Dinky's way, embarrassing her more. Catching Dinky's eye, Ditzy gave a motherly wave, which Dinky returned, but not before something pink erupted her a couple of feet above her comfort level. Carrying Dinky Doo in both her forelegs and standing erect below her was a certain somepony who screamed, "LET'S GIVE IT UP FOR THE BIRTHDAY GIRL!"

Without preamble, Pinkie Pie threw Dinky into the crowd.

Airborne, Dinky yelped uncertainly.

Even once she was caught by crowds of friends and families, the alarm on her face had not gone away — not immediately. But as she was billowed across the room by adoring hooves, an itch appeared on her cheek; it turned into a smile. It wasn't long before she was giggling in earnest.

Ditzy and Daring were watching, both equipped with drinks.

They sipped them in tandem.

"I think you've been a bad influence on her," Ditzy muttered to Daring.

There was no hint of reproach in her tone.

The wave of crowds tossed Dinky up and up into the air.

Dinky was spreading her forelegs high above her to relish in the moment, her laughter giddy as she felt adored by so many: the Cutie Mark Crusaders, their sisters, Berry Punch, Bon-Bon, Cheerilee, and others too.

Something like pride was plastered onto Daring's face, watching her niece be celebrated by crowds of adoring ponies.

Daring smirked at Ditzy. "Yeah… I know," Daring said without a trace of shame. Then she drained the rest of her glass; she shook and examined it. "Say, this stuff ain't half-bad. I'm gonna go mingle. Try not to be too sad when I come back, eh?"

Giving Ditzy a playful slap of the wing, Daring trotted off to say hi to Berry Punch; Berry Punch greeted Daring like she was an old friend whom she had not seen since college.

A small metal ring had rolled into the curl of Ditzy's wings, and with a sleight of wing she tucked it away.

"Aw…" came a chorus of disappointed ponies.

Angling her head in their direction, Ditzy wondered what the fuss was about.

Engulfed within a violet cloud of magic was an alarmed Dinky Doo. "Now, now, everypony. That was too close to the ceiling," Twilight said to the grumbling crowd. "Now, I'll supervise while everypony keep having fun. This way, we can be safe and enjoy yourselves. See, Miss Doo? Your daughter is in capable hooves."

Miss Doo gave Miss Sparkle a kind nod without telling her that everypony behind the latter was stalking off, muttering mutinously as they returned to their usual circles. Even Cheerilee was wearing an expression that suggested that her buzz had been killed.

"Aww, Twilight," Pinkie moaned. "Look! You made everypony go away!"

"It's their own fault; somepony could have gotten hurt if I hadn't stepped in in time."

"But what fun is there without a little bit of excitement?"

Twilight sighed.

While she and Pinkie launched into an argument about how the party should have been run, Ditzy found the cashier counter.

Nopony was attending it per se. But a pair of plump blue forelegs were crossed over where orders were usually taken. With kind but tired eyes, the mare looked in on the party-goers from behind the counter; she did not say a word even after Ditzy appeared on the other side of it. Turning around, Ditzy put an elbow on her side of the counter and said over her shoulder, "They grow up so fast, don't they, Mrs. Cake?"

"I know what you mean," Mrs. Cake said, nodding. "Oh?"

Something had poked out of her pale rosy mane: a cream-colored foal, staring at the shadow cast into the mother's adoring eyes.

Not long ago, that cream-colored foal and their twin had been the impetus for an international rescue mission that revealed Doo family secrets and uncovered a plot to destroy Equestria.

If Ditzy had to be frank, she couldn't remember which twin was the pegasus and which was the unicorn.

The foal plopped out of the swirly berry mane, wings abuzz, and landed into the Mrs. Cake's forelegs. The foal made some sounds and tried to reach for Mrs. Cake's nose. Mrs. Cake made a funny face and said close to her foal, "So there you are, my little Pound Cake."

Which meant, Ditzy mentally noted, that the unicorn twin, the one with the pumpkin-colored hair, was Pumpkin Cake, who was at the moment using magic to yank on Pinkie's hair. "Ow. Ow. Ow," Pinkie went robotically. "Quit it!" she whined playfully. Pumpkin made a half-hearted imitation of her whine: 'Quit it!' But as not all her teeth were in yet, she couldn't quite form the words.

Meanwhile, Ditzy noticed Pound Cake trying to reach for her.

"Oh? Oh?" Mrs. Cake said, looking down at Pound Cake, then up at Ditzy, "I think somepony wants to say hi~."

Smiling tiredly, Ditzy extended a hoof to meet that of Pound.

They touched.

Giggling, Pound clapping his hooves excitedly, as though to recreate the moment.

Seconds passed before he stopped giggling foalishly and started to make weird shapes with his mouth. Ditzy knew from firsthoof experience what it was time for.

After Mrs. Cake patted his back enough times, a tiny burp burst out of Pound's mouth.

He began sucking on his little hoof.

Mrs. Cake plucked it out of his mouth, which was still stuck in an O-shape. "That's enough out of you, little mister," she said in a mock-firm voice, complete with her free hoof being waved in mock-admonition at him. Spotting it, Pound tried to wrap his mouth over it, only to end up sucking a baby bottle instead. Mrs. Cake's face flushed with motherly affection, watching her little pony.

Ditzy sighed wistfully. "Wish they could stay like that forever," she said, eyeing the foal with sad and shameless envy.

Milk spilt to the sides of Pound's cheeks; Mrs. Cake removed the bottle. Then her cradle of her forelegs was being prised open. "But they can't," she crooned. "Sooner or later, we gotta let them go."

And her forelegs finally loosened.

Pound was bobbing up and down, trying to buoy himself to a steady hover.

The mothers moaned sadly, watching him fly, his flight shaky but determined, over to Pumpkin and Pinkie.

Both Cake twins were now sitting before Pinkie, gazing curiously at her. Drool oozed out of the side of Pumpkin's open mouth. "Two for one, eh?" Pinkie said with a lopsided smirk. "Why not!"

And she raised her forelegs high above her, parted them, and swooped them in a hug. "Huh?"

They weren't in her forelegs; instead, they were watching her from within the safety of a violet cloud of levitation magic. Giving her a reproachful glare was Twilight. "Pinkie! Don't scare them like that!"

"Aww, but they know that game; I was just gonna hug them. Honest! Also," she added, "you didn't do it right; you forgot to say you had a message from somebody. Oh, and you were supposed to pull out an envelope or something. I figured you all of ponies should have an envelope on you all the time, seeing as, you know, you always get mail from Princess Celestia."

"First of all, beside the point, Pinkie," Twilight snapped. "Second of all, all the mail Princess Celestia sends me comes through Spike; it doesn't come in envelopes."

"Oh, that's okay. You can just buy 'em, a bit for five at the local post office. Look! I see two ponies who are working there now. Oh, wait; no. They're not working there, right now. They're just partying and talking here, now, and not working over there or in here… now. Right? … Anyway, maybe you don't wanna bother them while they're not working at work but at a party not wanting to do or think about work but just partying like they want to do, because what else do you do when you come to a party, am I right?" Pinkie said, nudging Twilight with an elbow with a wink.

Twilight looked grumpy. "Pinkie, I'm not spending money for envelopes."

"Aw, come on, Twi. They gotta eat, too."

"Not what I meant."

"Oh? Then what did you mean?" Pinkie asked curiously, hopping in place as she waited for an answer.

Twilight grunted behind scrunched lips.

"You know," said Mrs. Cake, once Twilight, through some miracle, relieved Pinkie of her foalsitting duties ('Aww', Pinkie had said), "I really can't thank you enough for rescuing my precious baby boy and girl. If it wasn't for you — "

Ditzy started. "Hey, hey, hey. Hey," she said, giving up since Mrs. Cake was already smearing the tears onto her apron. "Hey. Come on. It really wasn't a big deal."

The counter rumbled, causing the mothers to flinch and look up.

Standing proudly on the part of the tabletop not occupied by their forelegs was none other than Daring Do. The strike of her pose, the fire in her eyes, and that unquenchable thirst for adventure — it was criminally incomplete without a special effects and fanfare to backdrop her.

"C'mon, Ditzy," said Daring, looking down on Ditzy, this time in a purely literal sense, "you know it was a big deal. In fact," she added, tossing her bangs at Mrs. Cake, "you can read all about it in a few moons in…!"

And then she leapt, backflipping over Mrs. Cake's head. Suddenly pulled close to Daring, Mrs. Cake watched, confused and flustered, as Daring spread her hoof in a dramatic arc above her, as though to show the simple old baker the stars, when in truth all both of them could see were ceiling tiles. "Daring Do and the Revenge of — brr… Brr!?"

A hoof had gotten stuck in her mouth before she could say more. Eyes flickering around, Daring noticed the wing binding her to the side of Ditzy's torso, then the foals laughing as Ditzy carried Daring to the doorway. Daring drooped her eyelids, both annoyed and impressed that her sister was able to ponynap her on a single wing.

"Well," Ditzy said loudly, waving to Mrs. Cake while using a cheery sing-song voice. "It's been nice catching up with you, Mrs. Cake! I'll send a missive for the strawberry cupcake recipe, in case you forget!"

Mrs. Cake was waving back. "Only if you send me your recipe for those strawberry muffins that are all the rage with the foals!" she called back, sing-song.

In truth, Ditzy had been meaning to ask her about it.

"Hey!" In truth, she had also meant to keep her sister's bragging mouth properly gagged. Onlookers were turning their way. "I was just about to tell — "

" — Dinky that it's getting late, and that her bedtime's coming up soon?" Ditzy laughed loudly, passing her little muffin and her little friends on the way to the door. "You heard your aunt, Dinky! It's time to go home!"

Whipping her head about, Dinky galloped to catch up.

As she approached the exit, she waved back at her friends. "See everypony tomorrow!"

"Later!" Scootaloo said with a salute.

"See ya tomorrow, Dinky!"

"Take care!" Sweetie Belle said.

Giving them one final wave, Dinky turned away and leapt out into the night-time streets.

The tumult of the party was getting fainter behind the Doo family.

Ponies were closing up shop for the day. In some houses, lights were popping up; the sound of running water and boiling pots were heralding supper. The last rays of sunlight were streaked across the sky, but were fading behind curtains of darkness and violet, like fresh scars that were beginning to heal.

As the night encroached, and the Doo family walked on, it was getting harder and harder to see safely ahead.

After fifty or so paces of suppressing her shivers, Ditzy gave in. "Put this on, muffin," she said, stripping her outer vest, and proffering it. "Get on Mommy's back and hang on tight."

Stripping her own vest, Daring draped it over Dinky, who stuck her forelegs through the second set of sleeves. "I'll lead the way," said Daring once Dinky was clutching onto Ditzy's neck.

Then the Sisters Doo were off.

As much as Ditzy tried to imagine it, no squeaking or any amount of metallic noise came from any of Daring's wing-flaps. In fact, if Ditzy didn't know any better, she could have sworn that Daring had gotten her wing dyed black, like Ditzy had done during her idiotic teenage years.

Rooftops were drifting by fast below her.

Holding Ditzy's plinth hat tight, Dinky pointed. "Look, Mommy. It's Zecora again!"

"It's not nice to point, Dinky," Ditzy said without looking.

A few more minutes of flying took the family to an array of multi-family townhouses. A streetlamp was posted between each complex. The Doo family was surprisingly well-off, considering that for about eight years of her life, Ditzy had had to subsist on a mailmare's income. Still, it was enough to keep her and Dinky fed. Most of her neighbors were families who fared hardly better than she did. Dining rooms were lit, and most of them were beside windows that showed humble scenes of chatter as late dinners were had. Each complex had an elevated porch; Daring was already flying over to Ditzy's.

Daring was unlocking the door when Ditzy flew Dinky over to it. Tucking the key away, Daring held the door open, sinking into a low bow. "After you, Your Majesty," she said unctuously as Dinky bounded past her with a swift 'Thank you!' "Oh, and you too, Ditz."

Ditz flashed her a playful tongue, then stepped in.

The first thing she noticed was the whooping and bumbling taking place upstairs. On any other day, Ditzy would have told Dinky to keep it down 'for the neighbors'. The living room was as dark as the night behind her. So putting Dinky from mind for now, she scrambled for the light switch. Unfortunately, it was on her bad side. Fortunately, eight years of living here had installed into her muscle memory the general location of where it was.

The lights came on.

Ditzy stepped inside.

Behind her, the front door swung into place; Ditzy could already hear Daring flying her way over to the couch.

Daring was now lying on it, head cradled in her forelegs. "Yo, Ditz. What's up?" she asked, since Ditzy's jaw was open; she glanced at the coffee table, and did a double-take. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now, for all we know, some great, understandably out-of-shape bear could have marched right in here, and — "

Ignoring Daring, Ditzy made for the coffee table.

There, two gleaming envelopes lay, one addressed to Ditzy and one to Daring, who breathed her relief.

"We got mail?" Daring said, getting up; hers disappeared under the swoop of a wing.

"One for each of us," Ditzy said, holding hers up in her own wing.

The envelopes were dark blue, lined with ice-blue tape; the color scheme was just like Alula's.

Ditzy couldn't stop her heart from pounding. It was getting harder to draw breath by the second. Her living room kept popping in and out of focus; the strobed lighting was making it no easier. Though she had to lie down, every part of her was paralyzed with fear.

Her wing slipped, and in it were two envelopes. "All of us."

This couldn't be happening. Panting, Ditzy tried to stave off what was all but stated to her, saying to herself that this wasn't happening, as though that would change the reality of her situation.

"It just can't be happening,," Ditzy wheezed, lying on the couch. "Not again…"

Her eyes flicked up: Dinky was still working off the energy in her room. Soon, 'the neighbors' would have something to say about that. The thought of her little muffin brought her back to her senses — but soon after made her realize the full weight of the situation, now that her little muffin was involved again.

What did this mean? Why was this happening now?

The room was spinning — why was it spinning?

Old wounds were opening up in response, as fresh in her head as they were almost a decade ago.

"What does yours say, Daring?" Ditzy asked, the words tumbling from her lips.

Daring had the parchment spread to its full length by the tug of both her wings.

"'To Miss Daring Doo. We of the Haissan Royal Palace cordially invite you to the funeral of Sultan Al-Qafzah al-Ula ('Alula', as He was known personally to you). All invitees are required to attend. We shall be expecting you at noon at the Royal Palace on the longest day of the year. We shall not tolerate your absence.'"