The Sky Above

Twilight stamped her hoof, heedless of how petulent it made her look. “No,” she hissed. “No! There’s no way we’re doing this. Come on girls – let’s find some other way.”

Squirrel immediately made to cut her off. “Woah, there! Where’re you off to? What other path is there, even?”

“Lots of them!” Twilight exclaimed. “Loads, even – there’re plenty of side paths we never took!”

Squirrel looked at her skeptically. “The moment we start treating this place like a maze is the moment it becomes one.”

“Yeah, Twi,” Rainbow said, grinning now of all things. “We got this! We’ve done this stuff before, and hey – maybe the wyverns are just on the other side of here?”

Twilight continued to pout. “What happened to not wanting to go underground?”

“Oh, I still don’t want to,” Rainbow said, now looking on the verge of laughter. “But seriously? You say we won’t have to go into any tunnels and then, BAM! Instant tunnel?” She finally broke down and laughed. “Way too funny! We totally gotta do this, now.”

“She’s right, Sparkle,” Squirrel grinned at her. “The irony demands it.”

Twilight huffed, but could hardly think of a response to that. “Fine,” she eventually relented. “Fine. Maybe I’m just a bit embarassed, is all.” Though the basin – some fifty feet across, perhaps – was comfortably lit in the sun’s glow, no rays graced its bottom; whether they’d simply walked around an occluding ridge or it really was that late in the day, Twilight couldn’t say. The creatures, at least, seemed calm, despite that the few nearest them had shifted and scurried about while they’d been talking. The air was filled with the sounds of their tapping claws, an irregular tattoo that she could make neither heads nor tails of.

“Just – let’s not be hasty about this,” she hastened to add. “Can you get airborne from here?”

Rainbow looked about with an unhappy frown. “No; maybe if I was naked, but even then I’d probably turn an ankle landing again unless I wanted to plop right down right on top of their eggs.” She took a few steps forward, taking care to keep her hooves out of the frigid water. “I’ll go like this – I can retreat faster than you two, and this way we can figure out what’s in that cleft.”

“Leave your gear here,” Squirrel said, gesturing for her to hoof over her stuff.

With her satchels now slung over Squirrel’s withers, Rainbow carried on, stone-by-stone, across the basin.

She was barely halfway to the probably-a-tunnel when she realized that she was going to have to pass within a couple hoofsteps of one of the things. Looking ahead, she figured she might be able to just about skip past it with a flapping leap, but she wasn’t certain if that wouldn’t end up spooking all the rest of them. “So, how we doing this,” she muttered, in part just to see if the creature would react beyond its near-continuous tapping and striking of the ground.

It didn’t seem to, although if the thumping was some sort of language then maybe it had?

Breathing out slowy, she crept up to the pile of cobbles, her mind just as focused on her footing as the creature. “You need a name,” she continued, pausing as she planned her next step; with where the thing was perched she’d need to walk along the very edge of the knee-deep water, where all the rocks were covered in a thick, sopping-wet layer of fluffy moss. “How about... skitterbugs?” Stones shifted underhoof as she stepped onto the little island. “No? Okay... you like roots... and have smelly eggs...” The creature abruptly lurched off to the side like a startled spider, stopping just as suddenly to face her a couple of metres away; Rainbow stood frozen, her wings flared out and ready to pump as it settled back down into an odd sort of coiled crouch.

“Okaaay,” Rainbow breathed, moving a little faster as she stepped off the isle and back onto the loose network of stones; behind her, the creature carried on ignoring her. “That went well.”

“You okay, Dash?” Twilight called out to her.

Half-tempted to be snippy about it – clearly she was alright – Rainbow just waved her off instead. “All good! Thumper just spooked me!”

“Thumper?”

“They needed a name!” Rainbow said – it was obvious, wasn’t it? “And they thump the ground, don’t they?”

Twilight shared a glance with Squirrel before shrugging. “I suppose; thumpers it is, then.”

The rest of the way was fairly clear, with most of the thumpers tucked off to the sides where’d they gouged out short dens or burrows along the dirt and rock that lined the place. Water flowed swiftly out of the crack, but it didn’t seem to be occupied – there were no criss-crossing roots or anything.

She reached the threshold and paused. The stones here were built up into a sort of weir – it’d be easy to keep dry walking on them – but she couldn’t make out anything inside. “I’m going to have to go in!” Rainbow called back over her withers. “My eyes need to adjust!”

“Wait!” Twilight shouted. A few moments later a sharply-glowing orb flew over her head and straight in the darkness; lit by the passing ball, Rainbow could easily make out the sheer lack of anything interesting inside.

“There’s nothing there!” Rainbow called back. “Just some plants and eggs and stuff! Looks like it might turn and go on a bit, though!” It was hard to tell if there was an actual bend a half-dozen metres down, or if it was just a trick of the light. “I’ll need to check!”

“I’ll keep tossing!”

Taking that as her cue, Rainbow crossed over the threshold. Another orb flew past, giving her a couple of seconds light before it dissipated against the walls or surface. The tunnel still appeared entirely mundane, although she took care not to touch any of the egg clusters – they looked old and dry, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

The strobes continued as she neared the back, several steps in; here, the tunnel seemed to hook hard to the right, although it was hard to tell with how quickly the shadows moved. She turned back the way she’d come, head ducked low to avoid getting whacked by any errant faery lights. Stepping back out into the basin, she blinked at the sudden brightness of it all.

“Well!” Twilight called out to her. “What did you find!”

“I think it goes on!” Rainbow shouted as she started back to join them. “’Round the bend! I’ll need a proper light if we want to know more.”

“Which means we’re going with you,” Squirrel said, her grumbling heard from even this far away.

“Yep.”

Rainbow stood again at the threshold, the other two beside her; the thumper on the little isle had entirely ignored them this time around, which helped buoy their spirits – something which the thought of going through a tunnel narrower than any they’d had to go through before was doing much to dampen.

“You know, I think I’ve changed my mind,” Rainbow said as she led the way in, the walls lit by the pair of faery lights hovering just over their heads. “I think I hate changelings now, too – I mean, seriously, why not just give us real directions?”

“I don’t hate changelings,” Twilight chided, although from the looks of her she was beginning to doubt her own words. “I’m just unnerved by them. I’m definitely going to be griping about this once we get back, mind.”

“Might be a while,” Squirrel muttered.

They reached the bend, Twilight quickly sending forwards one of the lights. There was still nothing remarkable: the walls were tall and covered in odd stains, while the ground was sloped inwards, wet and slimy and full of sudden holes and divots just begging for an ankle to turn. The tunnel itself meandered, giving them little clue as to how far they could go before they’d need to turn back.

“It was too much to hope for some helpful graffiti, wasn’t it.”

“Seems so,” Squirrel nodded. “Let’s go on, but if it gets too narrow we’ll turn around, right?”

“Definitely,” Twilight agreed.

Rainbow, being the smallest, continued to take point. Progress was slow, there being virtually no sound places to place a hoof, forcing them to brace themselves against the walls and shimmy around sharp, protruding rocks. The stream underhoof was steady, though the echoes of some distant waterfall accompanied them every step of the way.

After who-knows-how-long they found their first oddity. “It’s definitely glowing,” Rainbow said, leaning in to cup a booted hoof over the root-end and squint close to it. “It’s sorta teal.”

Squirrel squeezed up to join her, her cheek brushing her own as she leaned in for her own look. “It’s a tuber, I think,” she said. “A plant, certainly – it’s not a surprise egg or anything.”

Twilight audibly breathed a sigh of relief behind them.

“See these little sprouts coming off of it?” Squirrel continued. “Like the kind you get on over-ripe potatoes? The glow’s just coming from them – it’s this gauzy lichen growing over it that makes it look like it’s glowing all over.”

“Can we eat it?” Rainbow said, asking the most important question first.

Squirrel side-eyed her. “Leeet’s not.”

“At least not until we’re starving,” Twilight added, giving them both a little nudge. “Let’s keep going – I’d hate to think how close it is to dark.”

“Would it even count?” Rainbow asked as she carefully worked her way back out front. “If it wasn’t for your magic lights or the potatoes, we wouldn’t even be able to see.”

“We’d still get tired,” Squirrel said. “And what about dinner break?”

Rainbow ducked under a tangled curtain of roots. “That’s a good point, actually. I’m kinda hungry now.”

The sounds of falling water redoubled as they rounded the next bend. Here, the passage started to widen out a touch, its cracks and crannies sporadically lit by yet more of the dull, luminescent tubers partially exposed between the gaps. “You’re sure they’re not edible?”

“I didn’t say they weren’t,” Squirrel hedged. “Just that we probably shouldn’t try.”

Although quietly wondering how they’d fair as a garlic mash, Rainbow left it at that for the moment: a slight breeze had kicked up out of nowhere, which could only mean one thing. “Think there’s a side-passage here,” she said, rearing up and fluffing out her wings for a better feel. “Or some sort of chimney.”

Squirrel visibly perked up. “Does that mean we’re near a way out?” Although it felt like they’d entered the tunnel not a half-hour ago, it had probably been closer to an hour or more.

Rainbow shrugged before falling back to all fours, only slipping minutely on the rocks when she did. “Maybe? Either a strong breeze a ways away, or a weak one close by – no way to tell right now.”

“Let’s keep at it, then,” Twilight said impatiently.

Things were wide enough here to let them walk loosely abreast; however, despite the openness, progress was slow, their surroundings proving far too distracting. Rainbow couldn’t really see the appeal herself – sure, the tubers were neat and all, but if you’ve seen one you’ve seem ‘em all – and the way the breeze was picking up kept making her think an exit was near.

The far end was a mess of dark corners and jagged rocks polished smooth by countless floods. The flickers of reflected light on the muddy water below were accompanied by the occasional dark spot as thumpers – little taller than her fetlocks – swam or scurried by, spooked by their trespass.

Rainbow was busy trying to work out their next steps when the light cut off suddenly, leaving her in inky darkness; she froze, tense, and tried not to move. “Twi?”

There was the sound of hurried hoofsteps before she was bathed again in the warm faery glow. “Dash! Don’t run off like that!” Twilight said, her eyes wide.

Blinking, Rainbow realized she’d turned a corner without even knowing it, breaking line of sight with the others. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, too flustered to do more than lash her tail. “I think it’s this way,” she eventually muttered, seeing now that she’d blundered into another tunnel.

Twilight frowned at her, but didn’t press. “Lead the way, then – with a little luck, we’ll be out by dark.”

They’d just finished setting up another cairn, like as with all the others tucked against the leftmost wall, when they decided to take a few minutes’ break. Twilight was hungry and tired – they all were, really – and had long since lost track of time. Despite a good part of her fretting madly over this, the rest of her was busy trying to remind her that there were still some definite plusses: Rainbow’s indefatigable sense of direction, their cairns leading the way back out and plenty of food.

She was, however, worried about spending the night here, their newfound comfort around the thumpers notwithstanding. “How’s your water?” she asked the other two, dropping one of her faery lights down to hover low over the trickling surface as she did. “Looks fairly clear here if we need it.”

“Still fine,” Squirrel said. “Though we should wait until we find somewhere deeper – even murky water can look clear if its shallow enough.”

Twilight hummed and nodded slowly: she’d guessed as much, but right now she was just looking for some distracting conversation. “So...” she tried again. “Do you think it’s gonna rain soon?” Smooth, Sparkle – real smooth.

Squirrel snorted. “I reeeally hope not.”

“Relax,” Rainbow said. “We’re safe: you can always feel a rain coming – especially if it’s heavy – and I haven’t felt anything but dry and maybe flurries.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

Conversation was quickly stifled after that, the air and the darkness getting to them in a way it hadn’t before; it wasn’t long before they were packed up and walking again.

“This was funner when we had boats, wasn’t it,” Rainbow mumbled, voicing Twilight’s thoughts aloud.

“We’ll get out soon, Dash,” Twilight tried to reassure her. “If we really need to we can always turn around and just give up on all this.” She hadn’t quite meant to word it that way.

Rainbow, predictably, gave an angry snort. “Heck, no! We got this! Just wish we had some boats, is all.”

“Might be a touch hard to work around the corners,” Squirrel said lightheartedly. “Would keep out hooves dry, though.”

Twilight was still thinking of something to add when they rounded a corner and found only darkness. “Hold up,” she said, concentrating a moment as she powered up her lights; now glowing like miniature suns, she sent one slowly forwards.

They’d stepped into a large cavern, perhaps a hundred paces deep and nearly half that wide. A pool of swift-moving water flowed from passages left and right, while on the far side lay a pebbly beach of sorts; another passage looked to lead off from it.

Their eyes were drawn most, however, to the graffiti-covered walls bordering the beach. “Oh, thank goodness,” Twilight sighed, a knot of tension she hadn’t even realized was there relaxing inside of her.

“No kidding,” Squirrel whickered. “Never thought I’d be so relieved to see a bunch of puppy-love scrawls before.” Looking again, much of the graffiti did seem to consist of initials trapped within hearts.

“Still have the pond to cross,” Rainbow pointed out; her words were belied, however, by her own relieved smile.

“Then it’s high time we started looking!”

Unfortunately, the flow was more than fast enough to have carved out a fairly deep channel: if they didn’t end up needing to swim, then it’d be close. Twilight breathed out heavily. “My breath’s not fogging,” she said. “There’s that, at least.”

“I suppose you’ve got that fancy heating light spell?” Squirrel asked as they all three paced their side, looking for some easy way across. “Would it be enough to dry us?”

Twilight shook her head. “No: it feels far warmer than it actually is; certainly it’s not hot enough for that.”

“Dang.”

It wasn’t long before they had to admit that there was nothing for it but to take the plunge or fly. “Can you get into the air from here?” Twilight asked. “When weighted, that is?”

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah – just enough room. I’m ferrying everyone’s stuff, I take it?”

“Yep,” Twilight said, already unbuckling her gear and clothes. “My warming orb can keep us cozy overnight if we’re dry; what I mean is, if this takes a bunch of trips, that’s fine.” She couldn’t help worrying that something might fall in if Rainbow felt too rushed.

“Probably close to sundown at these heights, anyways,” Squirrel agreed, a growing pile of her own gear beside her.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Don’t take more than I can carry – got it.” With that said she hurried to run the length of the beach, wings pumping hard as she took off in harsh spirals, looking more like a butterfly buzzing around a flower than a bird in flight.

Twilight settled herself down on a boulder next to Squirrel, huddling close to her in the cold air. “So what do you think,” she asked, her eyes only half-focused on Rainbow’s shuttle run. “Are we even going the right way?”

Squirrel chuffed. “A bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Twilight shrugged.

“Well,” Squirrel continued, kneading the ground uncomfortably. “I don’t really know much about how changelings think. I’ve pretty much only known them when they’re disguised, you know? And then they’re acting like whatever race they’ve gone as. The ones back in Shade were all naked – for all I know that makes a huge difference in what they think’s normal.”

The heavy thumps of Rainbow’s wings rang around the cavern as she looped, diving low and sharp to pick up some satchel or jacket or another before hooking back to drop it on the far beach. “Maybe there was another path, then? An easier one? The graffiti suggests as much.”

“They all have wings,” Squirrel pointed out. “They’re bat-like, sure, but that just means it must be pretty nippy in this weather; could still be a way in that’s only reachable to flyers.”

That sounded the most likely to Twilight; unfortunately, if true and the changelings did just not think to tell them, then that meant that there might not be any viable route to the wyverns, period. As she continued to sit and idly watch Rainbow work, she couldn’t help but think back on everything leading up to this point – or more precisely, the sheer speed of it all: with how quickly they were moving from town to city to who-knows-where-else, there hadn’t been enough time to slow down and panic.

She snorted softly at that, knowing that if she’d had just a few days to herself to think, she’d probably have freaked out at just how very far away she was from anything even remotely resembling normalcy, and how very far again she was from getting it back.

“You know,” Squirrel said conversationally. “This might be the last non-boring thing I do for a while.”

Twilight perked up, grateful for something to distract from the cold. “I suppose you’ll have to go back to work again, after this, won’t you? Or reapply somewhere else, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Can’t remember if I mentioned it, but I think I’ll move back in with the folks for a while; lots of jobs in Snowbound, after all, and it was nice seeing them again.”

Twilight began to nod along amiably before a sudden thought stopped her. “Wait – does that mean we’re not going to Wanderbelle anymore?” It could certainly make for a more efficient trip back if so.

But Squirrel just snorted. “All my stuff’s there! I’m still renting, you know, and I’ve got friends to say hello to again.”

“So we’re stuck with you for a bit longer, huh,” Twilight teased, bumping her shoulder.

“Not much longer – just here, back to Snowbound, and then another convoy,” Squirrel said. “Provided we don’t freeze to death first, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Twilight agreed.

Across the pool, Rainbow stood and waited next to their gear.

“I don’t suppose you happened to see some last-second way to get across this without swimming?” Twilight called over to her.

“Nope!” Rainbow chirped. “You’re stalling!”

“Too right I am,” Twilight grumbled under her breath. The water wasn’t flowing so fast that there’d be any worry of getting dragged downstream – and goodness knew where they’d end up if it did, considering the tunnel it ran out through only rose a dark foot or so above the surface – and was barely a stone’s throw across at its shortest; nevertheless, she wished, not for the last time, that she knew some proper warming spells.

“You should go first,” Squirrel said, nudging her gently. “Since I’m the stronger swimmer I can watch you.”

Twilight sighed, but didn’t argue. “Right.” She crept up to the shore, wondering whether it’d be better to go slow and get used to the cold, or just jump right in.

An inexorable pressure from behind made her decision for her. “In you go!” Squirrel said blithely. “Don’t think about it!”

Twilight instinctively dug in her hooves, for all the good that did her. “W-wait!” she stuttered, but her forelegs were already sliding into the water, the shock of it making her gasp. Before she could even think of cursing Squirrel out she was in, her hooves kicking up little underwater whorls of pebbles and sand as she stopped resisting and instead surged forwards as fast as she could, her only real thought being that the sooner she was across, the sooner this was over.

She was up to her neck before she knew it, water nipping at her muzzle as she bounced along in a sort of half-swimming half-walking gait. Her hopes of keeping at least a part of herself dry faded as she was barely halfway across when she floundered and slipped – with just enough time to take a breath, she splashed beneath the surface. Opening her eyes, she floated there for a moment as she got her bearings, the frigid water doing more for her than any cup of coffee could ever hope. Quietly grateful for all the practice she’d gotten in the lakes and rivers back home, she swam onwards as best she could through the murk.

Resurfacing on the far slope, she gave her head a violent shake, her sopping mane whipping out of her eyes as water sloughed off her body in torrents. Hurrying onto the beach, she started shaking and swiping away as much as possible, only just remembering to shoot a backwards glance to see how Squirrel was doing.

Fine, as it turned out, her head notably dry as she walked ashore. Twilight looked away, her horn lit as she conjured a cozy ball of warmth, its even glow clashing with the harshness of her faery lights. Just as she’d guessed, it wasn’t going to be enough with how wet they were, so instead Twilight took to pacing briskly back and forth, shivering in the passing air as she tried to wring out her mane and tail. “M-might be best t-to try and dry out first,” she stuttered, hoping that this’d be better than simply curling up.

Squirrel nodded along distractedly as the wrung out her own tail, as off to the side Rainbow looked to be sorting out their jackets and scarves. “Are you actually that cold?” Squirrel asked, looking little bothered by the chill.

Twilight shot her a glare as she shook herself once again.

“I suppose you did decide to make a proper swim of it,” Squirrel chuckled. “Maybe I should’ve carried you on my back? You’re small enough.”

“Oh, shush,” Twilight grumbled, flicking some pebbles at her. Giving up on her attempts to whisk the water off, she grabbed one of her jackets and laid it down next to the hearthfire before settling down on it.

Squirrel promptly lay down next to her. “I take it we’re camping here?”

“We should probably scout ahead a little, first,” Twilight frowned – she was tired enough to call it here, but knew she’d just end up feeling silly come morning if it turned out they were just a few minutes from open air.

“Food first, scout later,” Rainbow said.

Despite the dull taste of oatbars beginning to grate, Twilight found herself relaxing as they ate and rested with no real sense of haste about them; tucked in close between the other two, and with the air in the cavern blessedly still, it’d definitely make for a decent camping spot once they were dried and geared-up again. The only thing that’d make it better would be if the river turned out drinkable, although they’d have to wait for it to clear again before they could check.

None of them could tell how long it was before they could comfortably get dressed again, but they did have to poke Rainbow out of a doze when they did. Now jacketed back up, scarves snug and boots on, Twilight dispersed the hearthfire. “Same order?”

“Sure,” Rainbow said, taking the lead. The beach had only a single exit: a fairly large natural tunnel off to one side, its walls graffitied and its floor scuffed from countless paw-steps.

“So let’s take bets,” Squirrel chirped. “How long til we get out? I’m guessing... five minutes.”

Rainbow snorted. “Nah – it’s gonna be at least a day of wiggling and shimmying to go.”

“There’s no way anybody would’ve come in this far – through here – if that was the case.”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow scoffed, fluffing out her wings. “There’s gonna be a flying way out just up ahead – I can feel it. But us? We’re walking.”

Twilight was hoping she wouldn’t say that. “Can you actually feel that, Dash? Because I really hope you don’t.”

Rainbow hesitated before answering. “There’s definitely too much of a draft here for there not to be something.”

The air felt still to Twilight, but she wasn’t the pegasus here. “Perhaps it’s an entirely normal path out?”

“Could have stairs,” Squirrel agreed. “Just boring old stairs.”

“Right – exactly.”

Rainbow hummed doubtfully, but kept her peace.

The tunnel remained open, with no need to stoop or rear – a far cry from their way in. The graffiti soon dried up, but as there’d yet to be a single fork, they weren’t worried.

“Another tuber,” Rainbow noted as they rounded a bend, entering their largest cavern yet. The roof – some twenty feet or more above – was decorated with a sparse network of roots and tubers of varying sizes. Trickling streams and pools of water covered the ground, while flitting shapes and shadows suggested thumpers moving about.

“There weren’t any bends we missed, right?” Squirrel asked worriedly. “Because if not, then that means the ‘lings knew there were thumpers here when they sent us.”

Twilight was certain they hadn’t missed any bends.

“Makes sense to me,” Rainbow agreed. “But wouldn’t that mean the thumpers are harmless, then? ‘Cause the ‘lings don’t mind them?”

“They might be new,” Twilight countered. “Or maybe there’s something unique to changelings the thumpers don’t mind – their scent, perhaps.”

They stood at the cavern’s edge and squinted into the shadows, the faery lights hanging still above. “Definitely movement,” Twilight muttered.

“I still kinda think they’re fine,” Rainbow said as she took a few tentative steps forward. “Just s’long as we don’t kick any of their eggs; every animal’s like that, really.”

Squirrel and Twilight followed close: with so many boulders and stalagmites about the place, they’d lose sight of one another quick if they weren’t careful. “Stay close!” Squirrel hissed. “I don’t want another forest!”

Rainbow paused for half a step before continuing. “If the ‘lings use this, then I doubt we’re in... whatever that fallen tree was hiding.”

They passed a dense cluster of tubers, their teal light reflecting off the carapace of a resting thumper. “Look at the bright side,” Rainbow said as she stared warily at the creature. “The breeze’s really picked up – I think there’s some light up ahead, too.”

Twilight’s eyes shot forward, trying to pierce the gloom for any sight of day. After a few more steps she tentatively suggested culling her own lights for a chance to see the sun shining through. “Not for long!” she added hastily. “Just for a couple of seconds.”

The other two seemed to think it over for a moment before sharing a look and nodding. “Just a few seconds,” Squirrel agreed unhappily.

Twilight didn’t hesitate, dropping her faery lights before she could lose her nerve. The darkness was immediate, punctuated only by the dim glow of tubers, though even those lit only the roots they were attached to.

“There!” Rainbow exclaimed. “Ahead on the right!”

Switching her gaze, Twilight thought she could make out a lighter patch in the gloom, although frankly her eyes were still adjusting. Without waiting another moment, her horn lit up to briefly add its own raspberry glow to the cavern as her pair of faeries reappeared. A trio of thumpers skittered at the edge of their vision in the newborn light, but otherwise nothing had changed.

They stayed close together, nearly tripping over each other’s tails as they made for the likely shaft of light.

“Come ooon stairwell,” Squirrel muttered, ears perked and peering around every boulder. “Or a ladder – a pain in the flank to use, but I’ll take it.”

“I still think it’s gonna be a chimney.”

“It’s stairs.”

“Chimney.”

“Stairs!”

“Girls – please,” Twilight huffed. “At the rate you two are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be nothing more than an old shard just to spite you.”

“Twiliiight!” Rainbow whined. “Don’t jiiinx it!”

“Yeah, Sparkle! Everyone knows it’s going to be a ghost or something now.”

Twilight sighed, resisting the urge to massage her temples. “Oh, look – we’re here.”

There were, in fact, stairs, roughly carved into a wide, low tunnel; blazing daylight shone in from the far end, neatly illuminating the battery of thumpers and eggs along the way.

“Alriiight!” Squirrel smiled with a pleased flick of her tail. “Stairs!”

“It hardly counts when they’re so long and flat,” Rainbow grumbled as she led the way onwards. “It’s like, what, ten steps? Totally doesn’t count.”

“Does to.”

“Girls!” Twilight cut in quickly. “Focus! There’re still thumpers in the way, and a lot of those eggs look fresh.”

“I guess...” Rainbow trailed off, pausing near the entrance. “Hey Twi – this is steep, right? In some places? It looks kinda steep.”

Twilight fought the urge to poke her in the flank. “Dash, this had better not be going where I think it’s going.”

“Well I’m just saying!” Rainbow gasped, the very model of righteous indignation. “It’s steep, right? And if it’s steep, then it’s got more in common with a chimney than a staircase, right? That makes sense, right?”

“No, Dash, it does not.”

“Ha!” Squirrel crowed. “Hear that? Twilight says I’m right!”

“She does not! Tell her, Twi!”

“I’m not getting into this, girls.”

“See? She says I’m right!”

“Does not!”

“Does to!”

Twilight made an exasperated huff as she stepped over to give the both of them pokes. “Could we at least try to be civil, here? We don’t need to get mauled at the finish line just because you two couldn’t keep your voices down!”

Rainbow jumped, an embarassed flush dusting her cheeks. “Yeah... I guess. Sorry Twi.”

“My bad, boss,” Squirrel agreed, self-consciously rubbing a foreleg.

Twilight rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment. “Good. Right, then. What’re we doing about the thumpers in the way? Slow and steady should work – it has been so far.”

Rainbow perked back up again and cast a critical eye on their exit. “Could do – they don’t look agitated or anything.”

“None of them are particularly big, either,” Squirrel added. “Could fight them off and bolt if we really needed to.”

Twilight hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Alright... well, I’ll admit I’d rather plan this out some more and see if there’s a clearer way out, but...” she trailed off again as she tried to find the right words. “I’m tired.” And she was – to the bones.

“Same,” Rainbow said, Squirrel nodding beside her. “I’ll lead.”

Squirrel took a deep breath as she sheparded Twilight in front of her. “I’ll take rear.”

They crept up to the tunnel, the trickling streams underhoof replaced with a thin carpet of crackling leaves and twigs blown in from up ahead. Roots hung down far from the ceiling, in many places piercing right back into the ground below. Thumpers nested within the tangles, their eggs small and tucked into crooks near the walls and cracks.

Twilight jolted as she felt a thwump on her back. “Easy, Twilight,” Squirrel breathed, right behind her. “It’s just a small one.”

Carefully turning her head to look, Twilight saw that it was indeed a hoof-sized thumper that had dropped onto her, and was even now curling up comfortably between one of her panniers and the folds of her jacket. “Oh, good,” she muttered. “I’ve got a new pet.”

“Maybe it’ll keep us safe?” Rainbow suggested, having fallen back to peer at it herself. “Like, they’ll think we’re one of them, now?”

“I think we’d all have to be covered in them for that,” Squirrel said. “And I’d really rather not.”

Still doing her best not to shake it off, Twilight turned back forwards. “Let’s just carry on, shall we? We’ll deal with my passenger afterwards.” Quietly, she was really hoping that these things weren’t anything like tarantula wasps; she still had a sneaking suspicion they were as harmless as wolves – if you didn’t bait them, you’d be fine – but she wasn’t particularly comfortable with the idea of waiting to find out.

More thumpers threatened to tumble down on them every time they pushed aside a curtain of roots or lichen. The tunnel exit was still nothing more than a too-bright bloom of white, but the breeze had kicked up and brought with it a fruity scent that mingled with the cinnamon so well that it sent Twilight’s stomach growling.

“You know,” Rainbow said as she casually brushed a thumper off her head. “This chimney’s not so bad.”

Squirrel groaned. “Seriously? These are stairs. Stairs!”

“Same difference,” Rainbow shrugged, shooting a grin back over her withers. “How’re your friends?”

Squirrel huffed, having gathered a collection of her own hitchhikers at some point. “I’m sooo not looking forward to rooting them out of my kit.”

“Too bad,” Rainbow snorted. “We’re here.”

They stepped out together into the sunlight, blinking as their eyes adjusted. Before them lay a craggy gulch, its walls steep and moss-covered, with hardy saplings growing from whatever ledges they could find; yet more trees grew tall on the ground beyond, casting them in dappled light. A swift stream, some twenty paces across, flowed out of a wall of drowned caverns a little to their right before disappearing around a bend not a hundred metres the other way.

“Pretty,” Twilight said, ice-crusted snow crunching underhoof. “Cold, but pretty.”

“I can take off here,” Rainbow noted.

Squirrel hummed, glancing around and up at the sky. “It’s late – we’re camping here, aren’t we? Let’s first find some shelter and get a fire going if we can.”

It ended up taking another fifteen minutes before they could even leave the threshold, tied down as they were extricating the various thumpers from their gear and setting them down just inside the cave. “Finally,” Twilight sighed, her horn dimming as she lay down the last of them. “Done.”

Squirrel watched as it skittered past her hooves and into the dark. “Now we just have to find somewhere to kip down for the night – anywhere out of the wind will do.”

As one they turned back to the gully. “Looks like the only way to go is left,” Twilight said.

“Left it is, then.”

The snow here was virtually untouched, with only the occasional animal track to mar it. To Twilight’s untrained eye, the sides and slopes were littered with places to curl up in, but Squirrel kept ushering them downstream whenever she brought one up; it wasn’t long, then, before they neared the bend.

“It’s just more of the same!” Rainbow shouted back to them, having grown impatient and hurried ahead. “There’s an overhanging rock tunnel thing ‘bout half a mile off, but nothing else!”

Squirrel picked up her pace, leaving Twilight to catch up. Hurrying in her wake, she glanced up at the sky and figured it was early evening by now, considering the evenness of the light. She didn’t like the idea of insisting they stop, but she was worried she’d have to.

She rejoined the other two to find that Rainbow had been spot-on – barring the rather lovely stone archway crossing the gully ahead, there was nothing remarkable around.

“I still smell something fruity,” Rainbow said. “Can’t place it, though.”

“Won’t be the trees,” Squirrel agreed. “We can check it out as we go; my vote’s for hunkering down under that arch – closest thing to shelter we’re going to find.”

Twilight hummed her agreement as they set off, taking care to stay several paces away from the stream in case of any hidden, snow-covered puddles. “How far are we from Shade, do you think?”

Rainbow gave a knowing smirk, but kept silent.

“We’re heading west,” Squirrel said. “And we started north. It’s been several hours, but that canyon and those caves were all twisty, difficult things, weren’t they. I can’t see it being much quicker going back, if that’s what you mean.”

Twilight nodded glumly. “Our cairns’ll help us in the canyon, but yeah, you’re right; if this sliver turns out to be too heavy, we’ll probably have to leave it behind.”

“Might be able to get the wyverns to help?” Squirrel suggested.

“With what currency? We’re still going to have to play it by ear just to get the dang thing in the first place.”

“That’s... a point, yes. What was the plan, anyways? I think it’s about time you told me.”

“Well, drams were always the first go-to,” Twilight said agreeably. “But wyverns value their myths and legends a great deal; I suppose I was hoping that if nothing else, we could convince them that the sliver’d be so valuable to uncovering the mystery of the Everfree that they’d be remiss not to grant it to us.”

Squirrel paused mid-step. “You were planning on just talking them into giving it you? Just like that?”

Twilight sighed, but couldn’t argue how horribly optimistic that sounded. “I know it’s unlikely, but even I got the impression Tern thought we could do it despite our lack of treasures; plus, there’s really not any risk here, is there? Not with how close we are Shade.”

They’d gone a few more steps before Rainbow spoke. “’Bout ten minutes!”

“... What?” Twilight blinked, momentarily confused.

“From Shade! About ten minutes!”

Snow crunched underhoof. “Are you serious?” Squirrel breathed. “We’re only ten minutes from Shade?”

“Oh, for me, yeah,” Rainbow grinned. “We’ve backtracked a little bit south – it’s just over there,” she added, gesturing carelessly behind them. “Actually, I think if we had a ladder and some rope we could probably just walk back in a couple hours.”

“Huh,” Twilight said, her spirits lifting. “That’s... a plan, then. We have rope, too.”

“Knew it was a good idea to get some!” Squirrel smirked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Twilight grumbled. “I never said it was silly – I just didn’t think we’d need to, and my pack’s heavy enough as it is.”

“Riiight.”

Twilight sighed, but could hardly argue – it was a rather weak excuse. “Nevertheless! We have rope and a possible shortcut back.”

“Yep!” Rainbow chirped. “Now we just need a magic rock.”

The archway wasn’t nearly as drafty as Twilight had feared at first, perhaps because it stood a good three or four metres above their heads. Scree littered the sides, some of which they were busy kicking down the slope in the hopes of digging out a cozy depression to sleep in.

“Won’t be light for much longer,” Rainbow said, standing beside her shucked gear. “If I’m taking a fly around, I need to go now.”

“Just don’t get eaten,” Twilight said with a nod. “If you see any wyverns, keep your distance.”

“Yeah, yeah, mom,” Rainbow rolled her eyes before quickly turning tail and heading back the way they’d come.

Ignoring her grumbling, Twilight stood back to admire their divot. “Should do nicely,” she said – the prospect of a good rest backed by Squirrel’s assurance that the stream below was clear had much buoyed her spirits.

“Yup! Just need to work out someplace for a campfire.”

“You think there’s enough dry wood around here?”

“For all night? No,” Squirrel said with a shake of her head. “But I’d be keen to see if we can’t cook down whatever’s making that fruity scent into some sort of sauce for the oatbars with whatever fire we can get going.”

Twilight’s smile widened. “If you want to go and find out, I can finish this.”

“Grand!” Squirrel chirped as she turned to follow in Rainbow’s tracks. “I’ll keep in shouting distance.”

“Thanks.”

With how dark it was becoming beneath the arch, Twilight threw up a cloud of pin-prick faery lights, casting the slope in an even, ethereal glow while she continued to clear out their hollow; as it was, they should all three be able to curl up together out of the wind. Her instincts were telling her they were safe: any dangerous creatures this close to the wyverns – or the changelings, for that matter -- would’ve long been extirpated.

It wasn’t long before a smiling Squirrel came back to doff a pannier nigh-overflowing with minute, orange fruits. “Found ‘em,” she grinned as she carefully sorted them out near a little place Twilight had cleared for a fire. “They were on some reeeal low shrubs buried under the snow.”

“Excellent!” Twilight exclaimed, reaching over to pick one up and give it a tentative nibble. “Tastes alright.”

“I should hope so,” Squirrel said, already turning back around. “I’ll grab us a bit of wood.”

Twilight waved her off as she set about sorting through the fruits and getting Squirrel’s cooking pan out onto a rough pit. Humming a quiet tune, she kept half an eye on pitting the fruits and the other half on the twinkling off-white dot of Squirrel’s faery shard bobbing in the rapidly-approaching dusk.

The clatter of loose pebbles swung her attention the other way; before she could decide what to do, she recognized Rainbow stepping into the light. “What’s Squirrel doing?” Rainbow called out. “And toss my canteen down, too!”

Twilight instead levitated it over, alongside her own and Squirrel’s. “Firewood! She’s found some fruit, so we’re going to do up a sauce!”

Rainbow’s tail flicked excitedly. “Nice! I’ve still got those spices from Drizzle, you know!”

Twilight gave a little cheer as she waited for Rainbow to refill their canteens – today was looking to end on a high note.

Squirrel stumbled back into camp not long after, her gait awkward under the short stack of dead wood balanced upon her back. The sweet, citrusy scent of diced fruit accompanied Twilight as she walked down far enough to ease her telekinesis, her horn aglow as she shuttled the wood on up.

“Finally!” Rainbow called teasingly. “What took you so long!”

“Oh, shush,” Squirrel said as she reached the top. “At least we’ve enough for cooking; the rocks’ll hold the heat well, too.”

Twilight kept herself off to the side while the two of them fussed about the food and fire, instead pulling out her logbooks and doing her best to figure out where, exactly, they were. Soon, though, she was far too distracted by the smells of dinner to do anything but stare and wait. Despite being exhausted, chilly and sore, she found herself content.