Where the Gentle Wing Rests

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Prologue: Promontory

Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Morning After

Six Weeks Later.

Pain. Only bright, burning pain inhabited this world.

“Ugh . . .”

A brilliant shade of red smeared across her blacked out vision and tore a groan from her throat. Light stabbed at her closed eyelids, and her corneas protested the unwelcome increase in illumination. She shifted away from the hostile light, scrambling under the bedsheets.

Is it time for school already?

“Just five more minutes mom . . .”

The bed creaked as a form beside her stirred. Was her brother sleeping in her bed again? She yawned. Maybe last night had been one of those reading sessions. It didn’t explain why her body ached all over though, nor why her chest was sore. Shining must have been showing her how to play that ball game of his again. But then why was she-

Wait. Is that a . . . feather?

Well it felt like a feather, whatever it was. The gentle touch tickled her more giddy side, right under her chin. She stifled a giggle in her half-catatonic state, caught in the world between the dead and the living. Nope, not Shining then, unless he had grown a pair of wings sometime overnight. The feathered brush snaked down her neck and ran circles across her shoulder, snatching more giggles from her mouth.

“No . . . no not there . . .” she chirped, soft laughter punctuating her mild protests. Whoever this mystery pony was, they knew her body inside out.

The form beside her repositioned, and the mysterious touch jumped up to her eyelids.

Twilight screwed her eyes shut and squirmed against the exasperating brushes. She cracked open a single eye, still heavy with sleep, and roamed the room for the one responsible for her broken slumber. If this turned out to be Cadance playing another one of her morning pranks . . .

But no pink alicorn inhabited her room at the moment. Instead, a pair of very much awake magenta eyes sprang into view.

“ . . . Dash?”

A blurry pegasus swam into focus. Dash laid beside her, her side of the bed sheets kicked off and lying in a crumpled heap near her legs. A single hoof propped her head up; her hair flowed around her forearm and cascaded past her shoulders. One wing stretched out towards her shoulder, tracing lazy circles across her lavender fur.

Rainbow grinned. “Mornin' beautiful. You take a long time to wake up you know, I’ve been waiting here for like half an hour.”

A bright glint caught Twilight’s eye, and she glanced up at her window. The world behind the glass panel was colored grey. Only a determined trickle of sunlight penetrated the misty haze and barged into her room, making itself at home amongst the walls and her jaded face.

She grunted. Why had the sun singled her out for persecution? She wrapped the bed sheets around her body and rolled to her side, presenting her back to Dash. Nevermind what the sun thought, five more minutes couldn’t hurt.

“Ugh, what time is it?” she half slurred. Her mouth tasted dry.

Twilight heard the mattress groan as Rainbow shifted her weight, and glanced at the small clock mounted above the bed. The wooden hands clambered their way about a lazy arc, and the sharp tick-tocks masked their soft breathing. The hollow sounds drummed into her head, pulling her into the gentle embrace of sleep once more . . .

“I’ve got an hour before I have to head to work,” Rainbow announced, “now come on, I’m starving.” Twilight thought she saw a bright glint as Rainbow’s grin caught a bit of the sunlight, flashing in the damp room. “How do waffles sound?”

Twilight grunted, and didn’t bother turning around. Rainbow was probably adding several nods of her head to go along with her suggestion. She tightened her grip on the sheets, having none of it. Eight in the morning was way too early to get up.

Like, several rotations of the clock too early.

“Spike should be awake by now, go ask him to make you something.”

Dash groaned. “Come on Twi, I never get to eat breakfast with you!”

Twilight’s body heaved as cyan hooves rocked her back and forth. She gritted her teeth, weathering the tempest. No amount of propaganda could penetrate her mighty walls and reach her brain. This purple sloth is remaining immobile.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.” She slapped away Rainbow’s hooves in blind fury.

The rocking ceased, and for a moment Twilight thought she had succeeded in driving away the pesky nuisance. A heavy yawn rolled through her lungs. Two more hours should do it, after that she’d get up and see whatever it was the pegasus wanted. She snuggled up against her pillow and shut out the world once more.

A voice emerged from the darkness, dripping with poison. “Don't make me come in after you.”

The very walls gasped, wooden mouths cracked wide open in shock. The books and notes scattered across the desks and bookshelves leaned forward, anticipating the approaching spectacle with bloodlust in their eyes. It was not unlike the coliseum duels of old.

Oh not this again. Twilight ignored the subtle warning. She’d take her chances with the bull. “Bite me,” she grunted.

The bookshelves shook their heads. More foolish words could not have been spoken. Provoking a half-starved creature was never a good idea, and she had taunted one that ridiculed the sound barrier on a regular basis. In her defense, she had been half asleep at the time. This also made her all-too-easy cannon fodder to the the wild predator prowling in the room.

The wooden floorboards creaked as Rainbow shifted her weight, crouching low to the ground. A distinct woosh split the air, the sound of her wings flaring open. Twilight dismissed it as Rainbow performing her usual morning stretches.

“You got it Twi.”

A mighty war cry shook the air, and the foundations of the library shuddered. Rainbow leapt into the air and screamed towards the unicorn; she was a meteor on a collision course with a celestial body.

Twilight's eyes shot open, every nerve ending sensing the looming massacre. If the appeal of sleep had prevented her from forming cohesive thoughts before, it certainly wasn't an obstacle now. Time wound down to a crawl, just for her. She formed one thought before the impact, the calm before the storm.

Oh dear.

The collision jostled the mattress, and Twilight’s pillow ripped out from under her head and flew halfway across the planet. The pillars of the bed quaked, struck with an asteroid of doomsday proportions. Aftershocks rippled through the sheets with such magnitude that Twilight swore that researchers all the way in Canterlot could measure the seismic movements.

Twilight gasped. Her vision punched through the the raging fires and billowing clouds of smoke to see Rainbow, poised over her kill like a triumphant Amazonian straight out of one of her ridiculous adventure novels. Her colorful mane tattered in the breeze as her eyes glared down at her prize. Her head lowered towards the levander chest.

Alarm bells set off in earnest within Twilight’s head.

“Wait, what? Dash! Dash! What are you doing?!” Twilight screeched.

Dash's weight fell upon her shoulder blades, clutching her with eagle-like ferocity. Escape was not an option. Saliva seeped from Rainbow's lips, an omen of things to come.

Twilight realized she was not above pleading for mercy. “Wait! Rainbow! I didn't mean it I- Ah!”

Rainbow lunged at Twilight's heaving chest and slobbered every inch, her handiwork that of a crude novice and not that of a reserved master. Drool flowed across her ribcage, collecting in places like cesspools, and running in thick, slimy rivers in less fortunate areas. Twilight could only watch, impotent before the mucky spectacle, as Rainbow ran her tongue up and down her thorax.

Huh, that one resembles the Ponyville Lake.

No doubt that somewhere on the map some primitive culture considered this erotic. Twilight grimaced; she could hear the apes hooting and chanting, spurring on her captor. “Okay, okay you win. Now get- no, not there, Rainbow not there. Seriously. Get off me!”

Dash looked up, eyes teeming with smug satisfaction, and wiped her mouth. “Done.”

With a powerful stroke of her wings, Rainbow released her hold on the unicorn and withdrew to the side of the bed. A cocky grin stretched her mouth from ear to ear.

“Although you weren't so eager to stop last night . . .”

Oh. That explains the sore chest.

Twilight ceased her gawking and shot a lethal glare at Rainbow. “That was something special you feather-head, this,”she pointed to her chest, “was creative waterboarding torture. There’s a difference!”

Indeed there was. The memories of the previous evening's experiments flooded her mind as she wound back a few hours. She had not known that Pegasi wings could be so flexible, not to mention so . . . sensitive. Perhaps a written report was in order.

Twilight hopped off the bed, ignoring the smoldering crater in the center of her bed where Dash had plummeted at mach two speeds. She ran a hoof through her soaked fur in horrid disgust. It peeled away in a thick, sticky squelch. “I might as well get your saliva samples while I'm at this.”

Rainbow's eyebrows rocketed to the top of her face. “Saliva samples? What on earth for?”

Twilight glanced around, hoping a towel would materialize out of thin air. When the laws of physics denied her wish, she settled for the bed sheets. She smeared her hoof against the outer blanket, leaving a streak of goo against the dark quilt. They were the ‘Stars and Moon’ edition too, the ones she had brought from her home in Canterlot. Her favorite.

Great.

“Oh you know. In case I need to clone you someday or something.”

Rainbow blinked and backed up a bit. “Don’t get all freaky on me Twi. Besides, I don't know if this world is awesome enough to handle two of me.”

“Uhuh. Now what was so important that it couldn't wait till you got back from work?”

Rainbow grinned, and she threw her arms into the air, presenting herself as the most worthy of gifts. “Why, breakfast with me of course!”

Twilight tossed a chuckle into the air. “That's it?” Rainbow could be so full of herself at times. As if breakfast was worth sacrificing a few hours of precious sleep. Let her try staying up studying or, in the case of last night, doing . . . other things. Still, seeing her so enthusiastic tugged at her heartstrings. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start getting up a bit earlier . . .

Rainbow narrowed her vision, a hint of the previous bloodlust returning to the whites of her eyes. “Whadda you mean ‘That’s it?’ Do you want to end up on the bed again?”

Any romantic notions lounging in Twilight’s mind dove out the nearest window. Apocalyptic visions assaulted her mind; the unique methods of torture that Dash had at her disposal outnumbered the amount of books in the library. And the library contained well over three thousand copies. What did her father used to say? Think before you act, Twily.

“On second thought, sleep isn’t worth dying over,” she squeaked. She arched a suspicious eyebrow at her feathered friend. “Is breakfast your favorite meal of the day or something? You must really love it to risk third-degree assault charges.”

Dash chuckled. “Well, that and Pinkie wants you to stop by Sugarcube Corner before opening time.”

Huh.

Twilight turned towards the bed, presenting her back to Rainbow as she set about repairing what the morning had wrought. The drool from earlier had vanished, banished by soothing sunlight and the kindling of their spirits. Either that or it had seeped through the fabric.

“What for?” She fluffed the pillow, straightening out any creases.

Silence. She slowed the motions of her cleaning, waiting for Dash's reply.

“ . . . to pick up a cake for the picnic, remember?”

Twilight frowned, and the pillow dropped onto the mattress as the glow in her hown died. She paced over to her writing desk and sifted through stacks of notebooks until she pulled out a worn, leather bounded planner. A quick tug at the string wrapped around the tome released the pages; they sprawled out before her.

She rummaged through the planner, and the events of the past months stared back at her. Here was the note for the anniversary party Pinkie had thrown them on a certain Friday; Pinkie had made the occasion memorable by lighting half the town on fire. Four pages after that was a reminder for the subsequent courtroom hearing. It was a good thing Pinkie knew the Princess on such a personal level.

She skimmed each date, searching for the present day. Sunday . . . Monday . . . Tuesday . . . oh my.

“Huh.”

Two events were scheduled for the day. One was a study session she had planned for five in the afternoon. The other was covered in tiny, red scribbles that occupied the twelve o'clock slot, alongside a reminder to pick up a dozen donuts from ‘The Corner,’ as the close group of friends referred to it. As impossible as it seemed, she had forgotten an event in her schedule.

Rainbow spoke up, having also somehow gained the ability to read minds. “Woah, don’t tell me the Twilight Sparkle forgot a date?”

Twilight giggled, still leaning over her planner. “Well in all fairness it was donuts, not cake. I am certain that if you had referred to the event by the appropriate items I would have remembered.”

“Yeah yeah, admit it Twi, I got you this time.”

Twilight smiled. “I admit that some of your laziness might be slopping on to me.”

Rainbow face beamed with pride. “I've been living here what? Less than a month? That must be a new record.” She drifted within reach of Twilight and patted her on the head. “Don't worry Twilight, at this rate you’ll be half as awesome as me by the year's end.”

Twilight winced with each smack.

“Feeling's mutual Dash. The road goes both ways, before you know it you'll be reading dictionaries and staring at rocks in space. Alright, I’ll go stop by Pinkie’s after breakfast. Now, about that breakfast-"

Twilight found herself in a crushing embrace as Rainbow locked one hoof around her, the other pointing off to some angelic rapture in the distance. “Chocolate. Chip. Waffles. With syrup.” She punctuated each word with a hoof stab at the air.

The unicorn turned towards Dash, finding her snout mere centimeters away. Perhaps Rainbow was willing to negotiate this morning. “Actually, I'm more in the mood for oatmeal.”

Twilight crumbled to the floor in a pile of broken levander fur as Rainbow released her grip on her. “Oatmeal? Oatmeal?! No way Twi’ you eat that, like, every morning! I get to pick this time.”

Or not.

Twilight looked up at her marefried from the floor. Dash's eyes were forged of steel; magenta pillars stared back at her. There was only one way the pegasus would agree to oatmeal: time travel. She had no choice but to go back in time and make oatmeal the national breakfast. Nothing could go wrong.

She picked herself off the floor.

Now to make a time machine . . . she glanced at the clock . . . in half an hour.

A frog croaked outside, ridiculing her.

Well it was a stupid plan anyway, time travel was so last week. Time to pull out the backup plan.

“Well I know of one way to settle this.”

Rainbow tilted her head, curious. “How?”

Twilight put on her best war face. “A game.”

“A . . . game. You want to play a game.” She didn’t sound convinced.

Twilight bit her lip as Rainbow ran an eye up and down her body, as if searching for some defect. The pegasus wasn’t buying it. Her fears dissipated moments later when Rainbow leapt into the air.

“Now you're talking! So what’s it going to be? Hoof-wrestle? Not one of your boring board games please.”

Twilight swallowed a smirk. She took the bait.

“No board games, I promise. I have something more energetic in mind.”

Rainbow’s wings ceased their flapping motions and she descended back to the floorboards. She raised her eyebrows. “Energetic? Energetic how?”

Twilight tensed her back hooves against the floorboards and lowered her head ever so slightly. She pointed her snout in Rainbow’s general direction. Her front hooves pawed at the floor, grooving a makeshift runway. She would need all the momentum she could scrape together for this to work.

Rainbow didn’t seem to notice her movements. The pegasus kept glancing left and right, verifying that there was no hidden chess set Twilight could whip out. It was now or never.

Twilight sucked in her breath. “Energetic. Like. This!”

She bolted forward and managed to catch the pegasus off guard; her marefriend’s eyes screamed in surprise. Even with the element of surprise on her side, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. No ambush could pin the pegasus down for long; she needed to even the odds. The unicorn lighted her horn and purple magic gripped Rainbow’s side. She assassinated the pegasus with a mighty heave and sent her careening towards the far wall.

With the feathered obstacle out of the way, the stairs in front of her were bare, hers for the taking.

“First one down the stairs chooses breakfast!” she yelled over her shoulder.

A loud crash resonated behind her. It sounded like a pony striking something hard. And fast.

She reached the stairs and flew down, smug glee trailing in her wake. The finish line came into view, and she slowed to a trotting pace. Based on the sounds of furious flapping and what sounded like a bookcase toppling over upstairs, there was no need to exert herself. No rainbow colored cannonball would come crashing around the corner anytime soon . . .

“GYAHHHHHHHHHH!”

A mighty roar thundered down the steps.

Twilight shot a panicked look behind her, searching for the looming firestorm. Her ears registered the sounds of some feral creature stomping to its feet, rising from the ashes. Something terrible and horrifying was headed her way, and it was going to ride down on wings of retribution.

She sped to a full gallop and grasped at the finish line like a lifeline. The bottom of the stairs lay mere feet away, yet outrunning a bullet was no easy task. Maybe if she used her magic-

Too late.

A prismatic cyclone bulldozed past her, flipping her end over end like a runaway slinky. Her world spun into a whirlpool of pain and colors as she rattled down the final flight of stairs. Her face greeted each wooden step personally.

“OwOwOwOwOwOwOW.”

The room ceased spinning, and the floor swirled into focus. Twilight shook her head free of the disorientation and squinted at the room. Her eyes traced the bookshelves as if seeing them for the very first time.

The interior of the library was a beehive. Whatever sunshine streamed through the window threw itself against the walls and crawled up the bookcases. A light fog still lingered outside the windows, but the sun penetrated the overcast sky in scattered pockets. One such opening stood overhead, and sunlight strobed the Library like a searchlight.

Twilight blinked. “Huh. So this is what the Library looks like at eight in the morning.”

Rainbow’s cheering interrupted any further thoughts.

“Yes! I haven’t had chocolate chip waffles in ages.” Strong hooves grasped Twilight’s shoulders and lifted her into the air. Rainbow’s eyes filled her vision. “Ages . . .” she breathed into her soul.

Twilight peeled away from the obsessive pegasus. She recalled a lecture at the School, from an older pony who had specialized in the study of mental functions. He had once identified five signs of an addiction, and one among them stood out at the moment. Patients will deviate from normal behaviour and commit increasing amounts of energy to obtain their object of desire. She had never heard of an addiction to waffles, however.

She glanced at the pegasus. Come to think of it, Rainbow had displayed all five signs. Too bad she couldn't get her anywhere near her lab equipment; psychologists everywhere would kill for the opportunity. A sad day for social science indeed, though what did it matter in the end? The study of magic was where it’s at.

She giggled. “Okay then, you won fair and square,” Rainbow nodded her head at this, “I’ll go get Spike.”

She turned and headed for the spare storage room, the one she had shoved the little dragon into what felt like eons ago. Most ponies wouldn’t think of a storage room as bedroom material, but a fresh coat of paint and small furniture did wonders in selling the image. Crude, yes, but efficient, and more importantly it had hidden her depression from the dragon.

Twilight shuddered. Those were months she’d rather forget.

Still, maybe it was time to look for a bigger room. Spike’s growth spurts were kicking in and the paint was chipping in places; it had coated the walls for a little over two years after all. Two years.

Has it really been that long?

She glanced over her shoulder and found Dash hovering over her. Her cyan face was illuminated by the soft morning glow, golden lips where her mouth should be. The peaceful image contrasted with the frown on her face. Any second now she was going to complain as to why Twilight couldn't make the waffles herself.

“I thought you were going to cook? What’s the deal?” Dash looked annoyed. Twilight had seen the same look on athletes who had their medals revoked at the last minute.

She chuckled. Despite the quirks in their relationship, a year ago she would have traded anything to have that huffy face floating beside her. And she had.

A cold tear trickled down her spine at the thought of how close she had come to losing all this. The cruel ultimatum that destiny had offered her had come wrapped in a letter. Without knowing it, Dash had ripped her heart out of her chest and flung it into the gutter.

She banished the thought, there was no use on dwelling on the ‘what if’s.’ That was then, and this was now. The pegasus beside her was real, someone she could reach out and touch. No one in their right mind could call their relationship a failure. Nothing could take this away from her.

Rainbow continued to hover at her side, an image that previously dwelled only in the realm of her dreams.

How things have changed.

She smiled. “There’s a reason Spike cooks around here Dash. Doesn’t he make you something before you head out?” She arrived at the makeshift bedroom door and knocked. “Spike? Are you in there?”

A yearnful sigh rolled out beside her. “No, he never makes me anything,” she said as Twilight turned to witness Rainbow’s plight. “Can you believe it?! Nothing! He keeps calling me a freeloader and that I should cook for myself.”

Twilight stared, incredulous. Dash had a natural inclination to be lazy, but this . . . she burst into laughter, and Rainbow disappeared behind watery eyes.

“Now there's a thought.” She wiped away tear. “He has a point Dash, just because you moved in doesn’t mean you get to boss Spike around. That’s my job,” she said, raising a hoof.

Before she could knock a second time, Spike opened the door. He held Owlowiscious with one arm, the other cradling a handful of berries. Every now and then the owl reached into Spike’s open hand, snapping back with a fruit trapped within his beak.

“Spike! There you are, I need you to . . . what are you doing at this hour anyways?”

Spike cracked open an inquisitive eye, and pointed to the owl. “I should be asking you, you're usually not up for another two hours.”

Twilight flung an artificial laugh into the room. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I would but somepony here can't live without her waffles,” she said, flicking her head towards the pegasus behind her.

Rainbow perked up at the mention of her. Or perhaps it was the mention of her favorite pastry, Twilight couldn’t be certain. Her back buckled as Rainbow clambered onto her shoulders and waved a hoof.

“Wazzup Spike! And hey Owlowiscious.” The owl hooted in reply, reaching for another berry.

Spike placed the owl on his shoulder and crossed his arms. “Waffles huh? Let me guess, chocolate chip ones?”

Twilight stumbled as Rainbow shoved past her. The pegasus’s voice broke into a high pitched squeal beside her ear. “So you’ll make them?” she demanded, saliva glistening across her wide grin and dripping onto the floorboards.

Twilight took a step back, placing a hoof around the growing pool of drool at her feet. She thought she saw a bit of last night’s dinner swimming in there. Nauseating. A quick glance up at her marefriend confirmed that there were indeed chocolate chips in those magenta eyes. Spike on the other hand seemed unfazed.

“Sure,” he shrugged, retrieving the owl from his shoulder. “As soon as Owlowiscious here finishes eating.” Spike ran an affectionate fondle through the thick plumage, tracing his feathers. “You done little buddy?”

Owlowiscious cooed in response. He popped the last berry with gusto, and the tangy juice smearing his beak a dull shade of blue. He chirped and departed Spike's arm, his talons making a faint rasp against his scales. He landed on his usual perch by the door and ruffled his feathers one last time, closing his eyes and shutting out the world for his daytime slumber.

Rainbow leapt off the unicorn’s back rushed up to Spike, chatting away while poking him, but Twilight never took her eyes off the owl. Behind her, the pair of voices escalated, lost in some pointless verbal brawl. She tuned them out, watching the dozing puff of feathers in front of her. It was amusing, watching her little family in their morning routine.

Little family.

Well Rainbow wasn’t exactly ‘family,’ but she supposed that at some point they'd make it official and she’d add her to the list. Or maybe she already was on there. At the moment it included the omniscient owl, the huffy dragon, and the pending pegasus. The constants in her life seemed to get along well enough, even if Rainbow and Spike didn’t always see eye to eye.

Their argument drew within earshot, eager to prove her point.

“I dunno Rainbow,” Spike’s voice carried through the air. There was a faint tap as he drummed a finger against his chin. “That owl is pretty clever. You should have seen what he put me through his first night in the library. It was kinda creepy.”

“Look, I’m sure he’s smart and all, but there’s no way whatever he does measures up to Tank’s patented Triple Barrel Roll of Doom.”

Twilight enunciated each word in her head. Triple . . . Barrel Roll . . . of . . . Doom.

This had to be illegal on so many levels. How was it even possible for the tortoise to get airborne?

Owlowiscious chest continued to rise and fall as Twilight pondered the technical details of such a feat. Dash did tend to exaggerate things on a regular basis. It was possible she simply rolled the tortoise about on the floor and made it pass for a ‘barrel roll.’ Do it on a cloud and the term became technically accurate. Instant bragging rights with minimal effort: pure Dash.

The problem was that tortoise shells weren’t exactly spherical, and it was dubious that the wobbly clouds provided enough friction to facilitate the forward movement. Tank would require some kind of propellent. Maybe Rainbow was feeding him some kind of high energy diet, one that might help Tank have a little more bounce in his step. Or not; the Library didn’t carry many books on reptile metabolism, so she had no way of knowing.

Well she could always ask Fluttershy-

Twilight’s mind stuttered to a halt.

No. That wasn’t a good idea. She shelved the thought as a last resort. The other obvious method was direct observation . . .

“Hey Rainbow, wheres Tank?”

She spun towards the pegasus and diminutive dragon, catching them in the throes of some heated debate. Spike had an accusative finger raised at Rainbow, whose hooves were raised in an innocent gesture.

“I never said that! I said it was a work in progress, I- huh? What's up Twi?”

“Where’s Tank? I have my doubts as to his capability of performing a complete rotation on a longitudinal axis while following a helical path.”

“ . . . Right. He’s still at my house. Shy’ is taking care of him while I live here. I think”

Twilight’s mind threw a red flag. “You think she’s taking care of him?”

Rainbow tapped her chin and looked up at the ceiling. “Pretty sure I asked her. Why?”

Twilight glanced back at the owl. Today marked the fourth week Rainbow had spent living at the library. She couldn’t imagine abandoning Owlowiscious for a two days, let alone fifteen times that amount.

She sighed. It looked like she would have to add a tortoise to her growing list of relatives.

“I think I can make some room him in the study. Bring him back here before you go to work.” It was not a suggestion. She cast an iron look back at her marefriend.

Rainbow’s jaw hit the floor. Those quivering magenta eyes said it all, as did the snarl forming on her mouth.“What, now? I’m on a tight schedule here Twi, can’t it wait-”

“No buts Rainbow!” She stomped a hoof into the floorboards, a layer of dust swirling into the air. “He’s your pet and he needs to be properly taken care of. Spike will have breakfast ready by the time you get back.”

No words came out of the pegasus’s mouth. She flicked her head towards Spike. The dragon shrugged.

“. . . Fine,” replied a disgruntled voice.

Rainbow jammed a hoof into Twilight’s chest, but it was far from painful. “But I get to choose the menu for the rest of the week Sparkle!”

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like Rainbow was going to cooperate. An argument this early would have dampened the rest of the day.

“Deal,” she called after her as Rainbow floated up to the second story window. A sliver of sunlight illuminated her angelic form against the window frame’s mahogany finish. It wasn’t the only saintly aspect of her. A year ago she would have pouted and fought back, but after a few months together, her . . . attitude . . . was . . .

Twilight zoned her gaze unto the pegasus. What was Rainbow doing. She hovered in mid air before the window, her back turned to the glass. The pegasus lifted her hind legs and-

Crack!

Any tender feelings Twilight had showered on her significant other perished under a tsunami of hellish uproar. Her windows! The poor, wretched creatures hung by the barest of threads to their hinges, broken by the winged monster that towered before them. Rainbow laughed at them, every syllable somehow directed at the unicorn.

“Rainbow!”

Dash threw a salute towards Twilight. “Later Twi, back before you know it!” She snickered, and exploded through the broken window. The blastforce sent the glass panels rattling against the wind. One detached and plummeted to the floorboards below. It shattered into a fountain of shards, and the final screams of a dying window faded to nothing.

Twilight’s eye twitched. She spun towards Spike. “She knows I hate that. Why does she insist on doing it?!” She shoved the surviving panel closed, a little harder than necessary. A moment later it too broke free and fell to its doom.

“Maybe because you're starving her,” Spike shrugged. It was just a guess. “You know how she gets when-”

“Oh don't get me started! It’s all I've been doing all morning,” she trumpeted, turning towards the closet and levitating a scarf out. She stamped over to the door, the means of entry that more practical ponies took. Never mind the fact that her lack of wings denied her aerial entryways on a permanent basis. It wasn’t something Rainbow would understand anyways.

She wrapped the scarf around her neck.“Well I'm going out. Pinkie has some package for me or other. Make sure to have breakfast ready by the time I get back.”

“Sheesh chill Twi, I’ll have it done.” Spike picked up a broom, waddling over to the pile of broken shards. He paused. “What if Rainbow gets back before you?”

She gave a vicious tug at her scarf, tightening it like a noose. “Then she will have to wait for me,” she gloomed, imaginary lightning crackling behind her.

Her scarf in place, Twilight gripped the doorknob with her magic. On any other day she might have considered brushing up her appearance a bit. After all she hadn’t combed and bed hair was all but a certainty. Small foals might run away from her in terror. She didn’t care, the scarf was enough.

She ground her teeth. Let them run.

Just before the door splintered open and unleashed a lavender gorgon upon an unsuspecting world, the soft wheezing of Owlowiscious caught her ears. She glanced up at her coat hanger, having forgotten the owl in her temperamental fallout. Somehow neither the window breaking nor Twilight’s subsequent fuming had awoken him.

His peaceful snoozing trickled down to her cognitive functions. Little Family. Despite all their little

quirks . . .

The glow in her horn died and the aura surrounding the doorknob dissipated. The door remained closed. “On second thought Spike, fetch me Equestria's Favorite Morning Recipes,” she said, leaving the entryway behind her, a sense of purpose steering her towards the kitchen.

Spike, still doing away with the broken glass, ceased his cleaning and stared. “You're not thinking of cooking are you?” Twilight could detect a slight panic in his voice.

She brushed away his tone as sarcasm. “Why not? How hard can it be to make waffles?” Twilight said, reaching the kitchen and opening drawers. She peered down at the unfamiliar instruments. “Ok, so I’m going to need a spatula right?”

A loud smack rang out. Twilight looked up to see Spike’s forehead glowing bright red. “You can't be serious. Weren’t you just mad at her, like, just a moment ago?”

“I was Spike. But being angry won’t solve anything.” Twilight looked around for a pedestal. Finding none, she settled for a nearby stool. She climbed onto her makeshift podium and addressed her audience, consisting of one dragon, a napping owl, and the bored bookshelves. “No matter what our differences, Rainbow and I must work together to ensure a successful relationship. Hatred and resentment will only undermine us, true happiness lies in forgiving!” she finished. Divine wisdom radiated from her being, and for a moment a goddess stood in the Ponyville library.

There was no applause.

Spike whistled. “Feeling ambitious today are we.”

Twilight ignored him, hopping off her chair. He was too young to understand anyways. She resumed her utensil hunt and levitated several kitchen tools in the air, examining each with care. She shuddered with glee. This was just like one of those epic poems in the Ancient Tomes section. She was an ancient hero selecting her weapon with great care before confronting her foe, the dreaded chocolate pastry!

Her eyes ravaged the drawers, strobing back and forth. There was a large wooden spoon, she'd need that right? Off to the side it went, placed on the cutting board. Obsessive nitpicking took over, and she smudged it a few centimeters to the left until it was perpendicular to the edge of the table.

Perfect.

Next came a knife, fork, measuring cup, salt shaker, pizza cutter, rolling pin, toaster, meat cleaver . . .

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Twilight jumped, and whatever materials she hadn't yet jammed onto the table came clattering to the floor. She levitated them in one big pile and heaved them into the dishwasher. She could wash them later.

Spike was standing behind her, a thick tome in his hand, running an eye over Twilight's handy work.

Twilight pointed with glee at the mountain of metalwork sitting on the counter. “I'm selecting my tools!” She clapped her hooves together.

Spike shook his head, and dumped the recipe book on the counter. “Of course you are. Look, all you need is this,” he picked up the wooden spoon, “a mixing bowl and a wire whisk.”

Twilight cocked her head to the side. “A wire what now?” She was pretty sure he had made up that word.

“Its a handle with a- oh never mind I'll get it.” He bent over and disappeared into the lower cabinet of the counter. A moment later he emerged holding what looked like a couple of geometric equations come to life at the end of a metallic handle.

She yanked the whisk from Spikes hand and ran an investigative eye over it. The wires doubled back just like parabolas, except these contracted instead of expanding as their y-values grew larger.

“What do I do with this Spike?” she asked, rotating the alien artifact in mid air.

Spike flipped open the cookbook, twirling the pages past until it came to rest on an image of a waffle. “Everything is explained on page three eighty two. Knock yourself out.”

Twilight ceased her examination of the whisk and peered at the page in question, entitled Making Waffles in 15 Steps, and below that was . . .

“A list! This will be easier than I thought.” Now Spike was speaking her lingo. Lists were welcome friends, hosts to be invited into the house and served the finest tea next to a cozy fire. With the power of lists by her side, nothing could stop her.

She levitated the spoon. These waffles shall be as ants beneath my hooves.

Spike on the other didn’t look convinced. He pulled up a stool and climbed on top of it, waiting. He watched with the patience of a master observing the first clumsy steps of his pupil.

Twilight didn't notice. She stood bent over the page, examining every detail. “Oh Spike, Pinkie Pie has a package for me waiting at the Corner. Its for the picnic later. Could you go get it for me?”

Spike threw his arms into the air. “Sure thing. Just let me make sure you’re up to this first.”

Twilight looked up from her page. “What? Why?”

“It’s your first time using the stove isn't’ it?”

Twilight grumbled. “Well yes, but I don't see what that has to do with-”

“I don't want to go run your errand and come back to find the library on fire. I'll leave as soon as you make the first batch.”

Twilight grunted and loomed over the page once more. “Fine.” She scanned the list and began to read aloud. “Okay, I will need . . . two cups of cake flour, a teaspoon of salt, two tablespoons of sugar, five eggs, milk, butter and a teaspoon of vanilla extract . . .”

‘Is breakfast your favorite meal of the day or something? You must really love it to risk third-degree assault charges.’

The words rolled through Rainbow’s head as she ground her teeth. You have no idea Twilight Sparkle.

It wasn’t a disturbing dependence on waffles that drove her to near homicidal methods. Oh no, she wasn’t that into breakfast. Sure, chocolate chip waffles were an all important aspect of any athletes nutritious breakfast, along with leftover pizza and soda.

Like all meals however, it wasn’t the food that mattered. The special someone that it was shared with was far more important. Even she could see that. But all the books in the world couldn't teach such a simple thing to the unicorn standing before her.

Come on Twi, I never get to eat breakfast with you!

For being such a smart pony, Twilight’s head could be denser than the thick end of a rattlesnake. Or whatever it was that Applejack said these days.

Outwardly, she said only one word. “ . . . Fine.”

Tank was fine, she was sure of it. Most of the time he spent it staring at the wall or other. If he could live a few days without her, then he could wait until after breakfast.

And of course it didn’t hurt that Spike’s cooking . . . was . . . well. It wasn’t her fault she had gained a pound or two since moving into the library. She wasn’t practicing her moves as much as she used to either. It shouldn’t be an obstacle, however, to the small revenge that was formulating in her head.

She eyed the panels of the second story closed window. They weren’t locked.

Awesome.

Now all she needed to do was distract the unicorn. It shouldn’t be too hard, there was bound to be a dictionary lying somewhere close by. No? Words then. Twilight had done the same thing upstairs, right before she had betrayed the pegasus and rammed her in the face. Some payback was in order, courtesy of the First National Bank of Rainbow Dash.

She readied a cocky grin. “But I get to choose the menu for the rest of the week

Sparkle!” She stabbed her with a hoof, adding to the performance.

See Twi, I can do this too.

Twilight’s face deflated in relief. She was probably thinking that Dash was going to go in peace this time. An amazing conclusion, considering that in the past hour alone Dash had eaten her alive in bed and tackled her down the stairs.

There’s more where that came from.

She unsheathed her wings. The window beckoned.

Rainbow fluttered to the second story window as Twilight called out something that didn’t quite reach her ears. It didn’t matter; the fine glass was long due for one of her patented makeovers. Besides, the unicorn had earlier slammed her into the Medieval Equestria bookcase. Some of those tomes were over four-thousand pages long. The cosmos could forgive her this one grievance.

She repositioned, turning her back to the window and reared her hind legs. She might shatter it, but desperate times called for exciting measures.

SLAM.

Her hooves shattered the glass surface and ignited a spark of destruction. A prismatic detonation rocked the library as the window exploded off its hinges. Shards of glass scattered in every direction, raining down unto the wooden floor. Each piece contained a miniature reflection of the laughing pegasus.

But Rainbow didn’t turn to look at the rolling inferno. Cool mares never looked back at the explosion.

Rainbow looked over her newest addition to the library, assessing her handiwork. Makeshift door added to the wall? Check. One broken unicorn obsessing over one broken window? Double check. Revenge dished out? One of the window panels detached and fell to the floor, shattering in a satisfying crash.

She smirked. Triple check.

An ear-piercing shriek knifed through the air. “Rainbow!”

Rainbow halted her guffawing to throw the unicorn a quick salute. Poor Twilight. It was the only comfort she would receive.

“Later Twi, back before you know it!”

Rainbow turned and broke out into the overcast sky before Twilight could use any of her books as makeshift projectiles. Dodging heavyweight encyclopedia tomes on an empty stomach did not strike her as a good idea. Then again angering the most powerful unicorn this side of Canterlot didn’t rank up there either.

She shrugged, the cold air whipping around her shoulders. What was Twilight going to do? She was her marefriend after all. If that didn’t save her then she’d have to rely on her maddeningly good looks to carry the day.

Still, smashing through her window had seemed pretty . . . brutal. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to apologize later.

Maybe . . . okay fine. Stupid conscious.

She dug through the thin mist that draped the town and emerged before the overcast ceiling obscuring the sun. Her weather team had put up the cloudy bank the day before; already it was falling apart in the orange tinted patches where the sun drilled through. In less than an hour she’d be up here again, tearing it all down and making way for a clear, sunny day.

In the meantime that oceanic blue she lived for lay tucked away behind a murky haze. It felt like a while since she had last visited it. She paused above the town plaza and hovered beside the spire of the town hall, filling her nostrils with the morning chill. In truth it had only been a couple of hours.

She peered at the tiny ponies that darted between the vegetable stalls strewn across the market below. The combined drone of conversations and hurried trots reached up and touched her ears. The hushed mumbles were shattered by the heavy chime rolling out from the clocktower beside her, signalling the passing of a half hour. Time to get down to business: Operation Retrieve-Tortoise-For-Egghead was a go.

She shifted her orientation, aiming her gaze past the town’s Carousel Boutique. Her cloudhouse lay passed the trademark structure, about a five minute flight from the market center. Two minutes if she pushed herself. She injected fuel into her wings and tore through the air in front of her.

The town sped past. A blur of porcelain cottages and grey streets made way for the greens and browns of the surrounding fields and the trees that inhabited them.

He'll be alright, even if I f did forget to ask Fluttershy. I mean, what's a skipped meal to a tough little guy like him? Or maybe two meals, come to think of it.

Or three.

Her wings beat faster. Cold streams of air brutalized her mane. Her stomach growled as it searched for fuel to power her speed and, finding none, made its discontent audible with famished snarls.

She ignored it.

. . . or five . . . when was the last time I was home?

A familiar tower surrounded by pillars twinkled into existence on the horizon, and even from this distance they left an impression on the landscape. It was like looking into a mirror.

Every feature competed for attention. A dome topped the head of her tower, crowned by a rainbow that leapt and touched down on the cloudbank. The entire structure stood on this foundation, held aloft by legs crafted of pillars and anchored to the sky by unseen wings. A colorful stream ran near the base, and the prismatic mane fell unto the earth below.

Even though she now called the library her home, the cloudhouse was still a part of Rainbow.

A rogue cloud had other ideas. It drifted into her path., and it’s grey arms reached out and smeared her home from sight.

Rainbow frowned. Move. Now.

The cloud ignored her. It continued its steady trek across the sky, rolling its bulging body across her vision and swallowing her cloudhouse whole. There it paused and held fast, undeterred by the speeding bullet approaching at an alarming speed.

A remedy to the situation would not have been hard to find. A slight yaw in either direction and she would be able to see her home again; it was no great trick. The evil cloud and its evil intentions would have been foiled.

But Rainbow didn’t skit around her challenger.

She increased her speed, and the wind that had whistled in her ears now howled for blood. The cloud jumped at her; only now did it reconsider its decision. The grey smear backpedaled out of her path, drifting on air currents, but it was too little, too late. She burst through in an awesome fireworks display, eager to greet-

She stopped.

“What the hay?” she gawked, mouth cracked wide open.

Her house wasn't there.

Tank was, for the moment, forgotten and tucked away in some corner of her memory. The pressing matter at hand was much more urgent. Upon emerging from the cloud, she had expected to see the awesomest, coolest and hottest house Ponyville had ever seen.

The rotting heap of building materials in front of her was anything but.

The dome she had pictured moments before had caved in, sharp cracks running down the length of the worn tower. Entire sections of the wall had come loose, and large gaping holes punctured the cylinder. The pillars weren’t in good shape either; those that were left anyway. Only a handful of the once proud columns still stood, the others lay broken at the feet of a muddy pond. That was all that remained of her beautiful waterfall: a dead, murky broth.

Rainbow rubbed her eyes. This had to be a dream. No, a nightmare. There was no way the pile of floating junk in front of her was her home.

She glanced left and right, almost expecting an enthusiastic Pinkie to pop out of the sun with her real home and shout some surprise. Congratulations for being such a good sport and taking the prank in style. Have a cupcake.

Yet Pinkie did not appear, and the shack in front of her stood its ground. Silent, eternal.

She floated upwards a few more inches, inspecting the disaster from a new angle. “What happened here?”

She approached her home with caution, as if it were booby trapped. Her hooves made a soft landing on the coarse clouds outside her door. She glanced around, staring at the ruin, and the steam that had fed the waterfall caught her eye.

She trotted up to the pond and peered at what had once been a glistening brook. Its thick, hazy surface lay still. She could still make out faint hints of violets, reds, blues, and greens broiling across its muddy surface. The liquid was so dense that not even her reflection showed up on its surface. Was it even a rainbow anymore?

She raised a hoof, and hesitated. She shrugged.

How bad can it be?

She dipped her hoof into the motionless liquid and recoiled in disgust. In the past, the colorful fluid would have tickled her hoof at most, parting around it on its way to the artificial edge before plunging to the ground below.

Instead, the greasy gunk sucked at her appendage, refusing to release its hold on her leg as she stretched the goo-like mixture to its limits. An audible pop burst in the air and Rainbow's hoof broke free. She looked at it in disgust; a brown stain coated the end of her leg.

“Ugh,” she croaked, scraping her leg on the surface of the cloudbank. The wisp like surface offered no resistance and crumbled into air as her hoof grove through the cloud.

She froze, alarmed. She raised her leg to her face. The stain was still there. The cloud, however, was not; a trench marked the area she had carved out. The rolling hills far below stared back up at her through the gap.

That shouldn't have happened.

She glanced around and eyed another patch of cloud nearby. She raised her leg and gave it an experimental rake with her hoof. It dissolved with shocking ease.

Rainbow threw back her head in a groan. “Cloud rot.”

Cloud homes needed constant maintenance. When one went unattended for extended periods of time, there stood a chance it could start dissolving. She glanced up at the rotting tower. There was no doubt about it; the foundations of her home were melting into an unmanageable paste. What had once been solid walls were now nothing more than piled on string.

Rainbow lashed a hoof out at the pond, sending a thick spray into the air. “Oh come on! I haven't been gone that long-”

She froze.

Have I?

Her move-in with Twilight was very recent news, but she had been paying a lot of visits to the Ponyville library before that. Week-long visits in fact. So many that her home had become an occasional retreat during the odd nights when the Library could not accommodate her. She peered at the structure again, wondering for how long it had been slipping away right before her eyes.

A thought slammed into her head. Tank.

She screamed towards the front entrance, but paused before venturing inside. The rays of dawn didn’t reach in and touch the interior of her home. The room beyond the door lay shrouded in darkness, and a thin fog hugged the floor. Something musky seeped into the air, attacking her nose.

A dragon could have mistaken this for a cave.

She poked her head through the door. Maybe this was how Daring Do felt when confronted with a dark, mysterious cavern. She stepped inside. A cavern that might collapse at any moment.

“T-Tank?” she called out. Her voice echoed around the room, and the walls swallowed the sound. Everything stilled.

Silence.

“Tank? You there buddy?” She braved a few more steps and emerged into the living room. The mist enveloped her hooves and she shivered. Wow this is cold.

She glanced around the cylinder shaped room. The entry level of the tower was, for the most part, boring. She had never stuffed anything of importance down there. The couch sat in its usual spot, by the stairs, and heavy blinds draped the sole window shut. She noted the porcelain cracks that ran across the ceiling.

She’d have to clean up this place, sooner or later. She didn’t like the idea of her cloud house falling to pieces, even if she was staying at the library.

“. . . Tank? This isn’t cool.” Her breath left blue vapor trails in it’s wake. This wasn’t a living room, it was an igloo.

She stepped into the center of the room, and eyed the stairs. Her room on the second floor was a reasonable place to search. She ascended the stairs, every step thundering through the tight space. The ever-present trots filled the silent world that existed between first and second floors; each footstep hammered away at her conscious. She quickened her pace.

The second floor contained two doors. One led to the bathroom. The other . . .

The door offered no resistance, and Rainbow stepped into her old room.

“Woah.” There’s a hole above my bed. An entire section of the wall had disappeared, about twice the size of her body.

The morning chill leaked into the room through the gargantuan hole. Opposite the bed stood a single, large dresser. The bed itself stuck out of the floor at an odd angle, a corner having sunk halfway into the cloud. Worn out weather goggles scattered the floor where they had fallen weeks ago, though most were piled near the closet.

This place had seen better days.

She waded into the icy room, stepping around debris and ancient eyewear. She didn’t even remember how the goggles had ended up on the floor. Dense precipitation clogged the lenses; they resembled the phantom stares of gas masks. A sea of cold, brittle eye followed her progress into the room.

“Tank? Where are you little guy?”

Her hooves trampled on paper, and she looked down, surprised. She had stepped on the reverse side of a large, glossy poster The sunken chill of the surrounding floor did its best to drown the bright white.

She bent over and clutched the paper with her mouth, turning it over so she could see the image. Three pegasi clad in tight, blue uniforms stared back at her, smiling. Three signatures in dark ink were scribbled below their grins. She could make out her name in one of the comments.

“What is this doing here?”

She hesitated. She could have sworn she had this poster plastered on one of Twilight’s walls. Coming to a decision, she retrieved the paper and trotted over to her dresser, placing it atop the furniture. She could retrieve it later.

She glanced around the alien world that had swallowed her bedroom. Her only other options were the closet that stood on the opposite end of the room and the bathroom out in the hallway. The closet, then. The hole in the wall received a healthy glare as she trotted by, arriving at the door. She gave a light tap against the wood.

“You in there Tank?” She pushed the door open, allowing light into the dark space for the first time in weeks.

Nothing. A few boxes were stacked in the corner, but the dusty walls contained no tortoise. They did contain, however, something metallic, sitting atop one of the boxes. It flickered in the dim light, inviting her for a closer inspection.

She leaned her head inside the closet and retrieved the piece of jewelry. It was a necklace, with a pendant in the shape of a heart hanging off the chain. One side was engraved with a lightning bolt, and the reverse had the image of an apple.

Apples.

Rainbow blinked. The last time she had seen the necklace was . . .

She dangled the chain from her mouth, letting the pendant project faint beams unto the walls. The light danced with the shadows, convulsing and shifting. Something told her she should throw it out, along with the memories. Cast it out through the large hole in the wall nearby and return her gift to the earth. Bury the rotting flashback under a hundred feet of open sky.

The chain never left her mouth.

A loud crash erupted from the hallway. Her head snapped around; something had fallen over inside the bathroom.

She threw the trinket around her neck and sprinted out into the hall. The bathroom door loomed before her, her final option. She placed a hoof on the smooth, wet surface and pushed. The door creaked open with painful indifference.

Rainbow held her breath, and risked a peek.

“ . . . Tank?”

Nothing.

Just as she was about to shut the door, a weak croak answered her.

A small fire ate away at the wooden chips on the stove, an iron griddle positioned above it. Elsewhere, everywhere, the shells of spent eggs could be found, a sort of graveyard where no chicken could pass through without bowing his head in respect for all that was lost here.

Twilight made a mental note to erect a memorial here if she survived this morning.

A loud crack rang through the air, and yet another pair of eggshells flew towards the garbage can. Yellow ooze dripped everywhere, a large splatter at ground zero where the yolks had fallen.

“You're cracking them too hard Twilight, try being more gentle next time,” suggested Spike. He sat perched on his stool, munching thoughtfully on a celery stick. Twilight suspected that underneath that raw hide of his he was secretly enjoying this.

She rubbed her poor temples in an attempt to stem the headache. “Got it Spike.”

Despite the massacre of eggs, not all was lost. She had managed to mix one batch of batter, enough to make two waffles. Only enough mixture for one waffle was simmering in the griddle however, the rest having been spilled by accident into the frying pan instead.

Waffles Twilight, waffles. Not pancakes!

A loud ring shook her thoughts. The timer sitting next to iron griddle rumbled, signaling that the deed was done. She sprang to the stove with joy leaking from her eyes, lifting the handle with magic. She plucked out a fork and began to scrape at the crumby texture. If this was a success, then she would have made her very first waffle. This might be worthy of a letter to the Princess. In fact . . . wait, scrape?

Why doesn't it come off!

Twilight angled her grip on the fork, attacking the stubborn waffle from a different direction. “Spike, the waffle is stuck to the griddle.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Did you add olive oil first?”

Twilight shuddered. “Ewww no! I don't want this to taste like olives!” She yanked with her magic at the treacherous cake. It fell apart in her hooves as so much chalk.

Spike shook his head, ashamed. “The oil prevents the waffle from sticking to the pan Twilight.”

Twilight sat in mute contemplation. She stared down at her stillborn creation. The beautiful perpendicular lines lay ruined by her inattentiveness to detail.

A moment later, the first-waffle-Twilight-ever-made-worthy-of-a-letter-to-Celestia careened its way towards the garbage bin. The crusty missile was on its way to a better place.

Twilight spun towards the mixing bowl, a lemon-sucking grimace plastered on her face.

Third time's the charm.

Spike cleared his throat. “You almost got it Twilight, just don't forget the oil, and ease up on the butter. I’m going to go get your package, whatever it is.”

He climbed off the stool and waddled towards the door, pausing as his hand gripped the handle.

“I'll be back in a jiff ok?”

Silence.

Twilight didn't hear him, absorbed in her work. She cradled two eggs in the air with the care and attention she reserved for mixing two volatile mixtures capable of creating a Ponyville-sized crater in the center of the map.

She heard the door close behind Spike. Good. No distractions.

Rubbing her eyes once more, she sharpened her glare unto the recipe book. Even if her ambitious project collapsed into the gutter and floundered, she would walk away with an important lesson. The opening words of the future report revolved around her head as she flushed the crumbs out of the griddle, preparing the pyre for another sacrifice.

Dear Princess Celestia, today I learned that not all books are your friends.

She examined the eggs for any imperfections. Satisfied, she set them down next to the mixing bowl, already caked with the blood of countless batter mixtures. She assembled her troops for the coming battle: the milk carton, sugar jar and jug of olive oil joined the ranks of the eggs. A quick wave of the hoof over the stove confirmed that the embers still carried life within them.

Although a well written reference guide can help you out of any sticky situation, a terrible one will only serve to mislead you.

She took the eggs into her gentle hooves once more. Leaning over the table, she strained every ounce of juice left in her eyeballs on the two evil shells. They hovered in mid air before the mixing bowl, mocking her. She allowed them their fun for a few more seconds, centering them against the sharp edge of the bowl.

Crack!

The yolks bled from the cracks in the white armour and slid into the bowl. Not a drop out of place.

Perfect.

She discarded the empty shells and took a hold of the- the . . . whisk. Or whatever Spike

had called it. She levitated the weapon, glancing over at her cursed enemy once more. She had never considered the possibility of a book betraying her.

Most traitorous of all are recipe guides, in particular those that proclaim any complex task to be ‘easy.’ They were written by arrogant and assuming jerks.

‘Beat the eggs and mix in sugar, milk, and oil,’ the page mouthed back at her. She grumbled and shifted her gaze back to mixing bowl. Her whisk lunged at the yolks and batted away in righteous fury. A moment later she threw in the sugar and the oil, ignoring their screams as they plunged to their doom. Only the milk received a small measure of mercy. She took the time to make sure only the necessary amount was poured.

As the whisk ate away at the mushy ingredients, she dragged a heavy sack of flour across the floor with her magic. She set it against the counter next to her feet. Atop the counter she placed a box of baking soda along with a salt shaker.

I have set it as my goal to write a clear and concise recipe book for the benefit of your subjects. Trash written guides will be the bane of their existence no more.

Meanwhile the liquid inside the mixing bowl had blended into a uniform mush. The time had come; ripping open the sack, she poured the rich flour into the bowl. A generous helping of baking powder and a pinch of salt followed soon after. She slowed the movements of the whisk. This step had to be done with measured strokes.

I will be sure to send you the first copy.

Miracles were taking place inside the bowl. The six ingredients had started off as strangers, but some bizarre alchemy had molded the acquaintances into lifelong friends. They stood as one mass, under one banner. She had seen something like this before, in her chemistry class. She’d have to tell Spike!

Recalling her earlier failure, she sprinkled olive oil unto the iron griddle before ladling the mixture into the metal furnishing. The heavy iron clamped shut with a satisfying click. If only her mentor could see her now. Her work would receive the highest commendations for sure.

Your faithful student-

The door slammed open. “Twilight!”

The unicorn spun around, forgetting about the waffle on the stove. Rainbow stood in the doorway, panting. A red blanket dangled from her mouth, and an odd-ball like shape sat wrapped within the folds.

Twilight took a few steps forward. “Rainbow? Where’s Tank? Is he at Fluttershy’s?”

Rainbow bolted forward, not bothering to shut the door behind her. She set the blanket down on the floor and spread out the sheet. In the center of the quilt lay a wheezing tortoise.

Rainbow could not keep still. She hovered over her pet, firing off sentences like a machine gun. “I found him like this, what's wrong with him, he doesn’t look good, it’s all my fault-”

Twilight wasted no time in kneeling by the sick animal, looming over every detail. She placed a hoof against the faded shell, and recoiled when a sharp cold nipped her skin. She forced her hoof back down on his skin and scavenged his neck. His pulse resembled his shell: it was dull, blunted.

She peered into his eyes. There was no life in those black marbles. “When was the last time you fed him?”

“Um,” Rainbow made a point of rubbing the back of her neck. “Maybe three weeks ago.”

“Maybe three weeks ago?!”

Rainbow swallowed. “Yeah, and uh,” she avoided Twilight’s glare, looking at the far wall, “and maybe a bit longer than that.”

Twilight sprang to her feet. “What's wrong with you Rainbow? He could have died!”

The pegasus shifted her gaze, boring a hole into the floorboards. “ . . . Is he going to be ok?”

“How am I supposed to know! Do I look like a veterinarian to you?” Twilight paced back and forth in place, shooting glances at the sick tortoise. She did not know how to treat injured animals. “Why didn't you take him to Fluttershy?”

Rainbow hung her head and said nothing.

“I’m sorry Twilight. You're just the first pony I thought of, that's all.” Twilight thought she saw a tear roll down Rainbow’s cheek. She couldn’t be sure.

Her anger dulled, and her heart contracted in an overwhelming need to grip this mare with all her might and never let go.

“No Dash, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She stepped around the blanket and drew close to the pegasus. The quick peck she planted on her cheek took Rainbow by surprise. Twilight draped a hoof around her marefriend’s neck, feeling the warmth of Dash nuzzling into the embrace.

“It will be alright,” Twilight said as she broke from the contact. She wrapped the thick blanket around Tank, trying to warm his icy shell. The tortoise cooed in response. “I'll take him to Fluttershy’s. You take your mind off all this and go to work. Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

Rainbow perked a bit, and some of the anxiety in her eyes washed away.“Oh yeah? What kind of surprise?”

The unicorn placed the snug tortoise atop the counter. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll like it.” She retrieved a plate from the cupboards and darted around to the stove. Illuminating her horn, she grasped the iron handle of the griddle. What was up with the smoke? Nevermind that! She parted the griddle open, anticipating those perfect, golden ovals-

Twilight tilted her head. They weren’t supposed to black. She glanced back at the recipe book. The page had a final instruction; cook for two minutes.

Oh.

She weighed her options. Rainbow coughed behind her. Well, a burnt gift was better than no gift at all. Right?

Slapping the crusted waffles unto the plate, she whirled around. “I made you these, hope you like them!” she barked. Using her magic, she shoved the burnt offerings towards a bewildered pegasus.

Rainbow gave an experimental prod at the charcoal bits lying on the plate. “Are these waffles? I guess I know why Spike cooks now,” she chuckle. “And you forgot the chocolate chips Twi.”

“OH BOOKWORMS I KNEW I FORGOT SOMETHING.”

Rainbow chortled. “Its ok Twi, anything you make is the best.” She stomped the plate, sending the diseased waffle skyward. She devoured the pastry in one bite.

Twilight stared with an open mouth. “I’ll never figure out how you do that.”

Rainbow turned towards the door. “If you’re lucky, I’ll teach you some day.” She gave Tank one last glance before heading out. “You’ll head out right now, right?”

“Of course. As soon as I finish cleaning up your mess,” she grunted, levitating Rainbow’s plate off the floor. She walked back towards the kitchen, plate in tow.

“You'd do anything for me Twi', admit it.”

The unicorn paused, her back towards the pegasus. “More than you know Dash.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Hey, do you want me to make a Twilight Sparkle shaped cloud for you?” She huffed on a hoof and polished her chest. “I’m the head of the team, I can make it happen,” she said, leaning against the door. She had attempted to toss the offer to Twilight casually. The way she bit her lip as she awaited the unicorn’s reply suggested otherwise.

Twilight snapped around. Is Dash trying to be . . . romantic? The words didn’t seem to go together in her head, like mixing together chocolate and mustard. It just wasn’t done. Not to mention that Rainbow’s usual attempts at romance extended no further than 'Iron Kisser' competitions. 'A series of contests to determine the best kisser! Ready set GO!'

“Ewww since when did you get all sappy?” she said, placing the plate on the sink and trotting up to the pegasus.

“Sappy!” Rainbow scoffed in indignation, eyes darting everywhere. “Hey it ain't sappy, I just need to practice my cloud shaping skills!”

“Uhuh. So was Applejack’s apple shaped?”

“N-no!” It was futile. Her traitorous face betrayed a deep shade of crimson, laying her out on the table for all to see.

Twilight considered pushing her a little further, but decided against it. Rainbow had her limits. She leaned it and gave a soft nuzzle on the shoulder. “Well for the record, I think its very sweet. I’d like it very much.”

Rainbow grinned. “Thanks Twi. Look up at the sky around the town hall at noon. It’ll be there, I promise.”

“And I promise I’ll be looking,” Twilight said, trapping Dash’s eyes with her own.

“I love you Rainbow.”

Rainbow stared back, unable to escape her gaze. “. . . I love you too Twilight.”

Before the unicorn could answer, the pegasus shot out the doorway. The colorful contrail she left in her wake carved across the sky. Twilight stuck her head out of the library door, watching until the cyan body disappeared behind one of the gaps in the overcast ceiling.

Twilight shook her head, and went back inside. She needed to start cleaning up her morning shenanigans before Spike returned. Afterwards she’d head out, tortoise in tow. There was a certain yellow pegasus she needed to pay a visit.

Chapter 2

Chapter Two:The Cottage

“No distractions.”

Twilight’s magic seized the window blinds and flung them closed, cutting the room off from the outside world. The air stilled as the unicorn paced the silent steps back towards the center of the library, all the light in the room extinguished and the bookshelves dipped into darkness. All was quiet.

“This is too important.”

An army of blankets sat color-coded nearby—every single one she had been able to find within her home. Some of the larger blue ones came from the shower, the reds hailed from the kitchen, and one particular deep, royal purple had never found its way back to Rarity. Not that it mattered; it fit in right alongside the rainbow stacks of multi-colored fabrics.

Twilight approached, running an appreciative eye among the ranks.

She smirked. “Are you ready for this?” Her magic reached out and plucked a blanket, peeling it off the floor, and then another, and another . . .

Soon a haphazard dust-cloud of blankets, wools, coats, scarves, and ribbons cycloned around the room, converging on a single, tiny point on the wooden floor. Twilight’s horn rose to a white-hot glow; her feet skidded a few inches, but she clawed herself to the floor. This spell demanded the utmost concentration.

Beads of sweat began to scale down the cliffs of her face, but she didn’t dare waste a precious drop of her concentration to wipe them away.

Come on . . .

Any loose pages on the shelves bolted into the air, picked up by the strong wind currents building up. A few tomes flipped open and zipped through hundred of pages in mere seconds. Owlowiscious, clinging onto his perch for dear life, finally had enough and departed for a more secluded part of the library, tossing an annoyed hoot behind him.

Twilight, meanwhile, never took her eyes off the tortoise in the center of the room.

Round and round the woolen tornado spun, guided by magic’s hand and funneling towards the shivering pet. Just a few more seconds and . . .

“There!”

The rage of the magical hurricane subsided, and the books ceased somersaulting through the air; in a moment Twilight directed her horn at them as well, and each found its rightful place back on the shelves. The bookshelves sat quietly as Twilight wound down her magic, and the thunderous tick-tocks of the clock never rose above a whisper. The library stood still, peaceful even.

Twilight took a step back, admiring her handiwork.

Tank sneezed, now hidden somewhere beneath a protective cocoon of woolen blankets and naive optimism. Twilight inched her face closer to the surface in response.

Look at those even seams!

The sheer amount of blankets coiled about him seemed ridiculous in retrospect, but the more the merrier. If no gaps peeked through the folds, then no heat would escape through the fabric.

A few defiant wrinkles stood out on the thick surface, refusing to yield to fate. Little did they know that they were dealing with the most dedicated of perfectionists. Twilight Sparkle had, after all, once read an entire dictionary line by line, proofreading every definition.

Twice.

The wrinkles offered up a laughable resistance to the set of studious levander eyes that strobed the surface of the cloth, flattening out any imperfections through sheer will alone. With the last crinkle foiled, Twilight leaned back, satisfied. This activity finished, she levitated her impromptu schedule—one she had scrambled together minutes before—and double checked her progress.

Clean the kitchen (also, put away the utensils)

Research validity of recipe books (later)

Make Tank comfortable

Make myself breakfast

Fluttershy

A quick glance at the cloth-armoured tortoise confirmed that the third item on the list was now complete; she levitated a quill. The pen dragged across the page a little longer than necessary, and Twilight rode out the the duration of the scrawl, letting her ears soak in the delicious sound of quill on paper. There was something about making schedules; it was always a cheerful business. Nevermind the satisfaction of actually completing the items on the list, she would have made a list regardless of whether or not Tank needed medical attention.

Plus she was doing this as a favor for Dash. Sure, she had forgotten about her pet, but everyone was prone to such mistakes, right?

Right?

Rumbles rolled through her stomach, pulling her thoughts away from the tortoise and towards the kitchen. The clock also announced its presence, reminding her that fifteen minutes had passed since Dash’s departure. She glanced around the library, running a mental checklist and counting off each item. The shelves were organized, the kitchen was clean, Tank was ready . . .

A lifeless room stared back at her, not one item out of place. An unheard of feat, considering that this was her work, and not Spike’s. Her usual studies demanded tearing down all the books, sometimes just to annoy her assistant.

She giggled, and the even bookshelves stared disapproval back at her, siding with Spike. A shame that a certain pegasus wasn’t there to knock them over. Some new flying trick for an excuse or something of the sort. Or maybe a race down the stairs. Somehow the absence of imminent danger to her beloved books made them . . .

Boring?

The room was colder without Dash, less colorful, and it had nothing to do with the overcast sky outside her window. Excitement tended to follow the pegasus wherever she went, and it was worth having around, even if it often resulted in makeshift windows getting blasted into the walls.

She sighed, the very sound of loneliness. Waking up before the usual opening hours carried the unexpected burden of solitude.

At least the surprise picnic at noon promised them a few hours together on the grass, chatting about astronomy, history, chemistry . . . or the Wonderbolts. Dash knew all the obscure little details about Equestria’s greatest fliers: their signature moves, lap records, birthdays, even their favorite colors. No detail, no matter how irrelevant, escaped those magenta eyes and cyan ears; her devotion to the racer’s rivaled Twilight’s addiction to schedules.

But then again, it had been awhile since Rainbow brought up her idols in a conversation. Which was more than a little strange.

Her eyes rested on Tank once more. It was a question best reserved for later, for now she had to prepare for their departure. To that end, she had managed to salvage Spike’s old, red cart from the closet, and it would soon serve a new life as a makeshift stretcher.

Joining the cart were additional blankets, a bottle of water, bandages, and a set of binoculars; the latter in case she noticed anything research-worthy on the road to Fluttershy’s cottage.

Fluttershy.

Twilight shuddered. Their brief relationship lay buried in the past, but talking to her ex was never a comfortable subject. It didn’t help that all of her friends by now knew that Fluttershy had been a stepping stone on the road to Dash.

And Fluttershy was no exception.

Up until now, their encounters had proven to be endurable. Brief words, awkward side glances, and Pinkie’s ramblings had proven enough to fill the silent gaps that stretched between the two. And Twilight could always count on Dash or Rarity to divert attention away from the pair.

But this time was different. It was just her and Fluttershy; there was nowhere to run.

I'm on my own.

She placed the sick animal and all the items she had gathered into the cart, and made her way towards the door. “Let’s get this over with little guy,” she said, more to herself than to the tortoise. The cart squeaked after her, pulled by a magical finger.

Before she could turn the knob and exit the library, the door swung open of its own accord, and Spike appeared in the entryway. He was not carrying any package.

“Spike! There you are.” She glanced at this empty arms. “Where are the donuts?”

Spike waddled past, shrugging. “Pinkie says you have to pick them up yourself. She wouldn’t give them to me.” The red cart stole his attention, and he peered at the thick, woolen ball sitting on the makeshift stretcher. “Woah. Is that Tank?”

Twilight didn’t hear his question. “I have to go pick them up? But I can’t, I have a very sick animal I need to take care of. Dash is counting on me!”

Spike threw his arms into the air. “She’ll only hand them over if you go. That’s the deal sister. And she says you should go before opening time, or you might have to wait in line.”

Twilight glanced at the clock. Dash had left just in time to check in for her job. No doubt other ponies were doing the same at this very moment, and some, like her, would have skipped out on breakfast. She risked slamming into the morning gridlock if she didn’t head to The Corner right away.

Twilight sighed through her nose, gawking at the dragon as if this were all his fault. “Fine. I’ll try to be back soon,” she said, walking towards the door but pausing before the handle. Adjusting a scarf around her neck, she glanced back at her assistant.

“Oh, and Spike?”

Spike, bending over to pick up a discarded blanket, looked up. “Yeah?”

“Dash and I left a mess upstairs from earlier this morning. Do you think you could have it picked up before I get back?”

Spike reached for a broom, and started heading towards the stairs. “It is a lot?”

Twilight thought back to a half hour ago, to the smoking carcass of a bookshelf and its spilled contents that blanketed the entire floor in a crumpled wasteland of paper, tomes and hardcovers. At least the bed was clean.

“No,” she lied.

“Sure thing,” came the cheerful reply of an oblivious dragon ascending to his doom.

Twilight tightened her scarf and grasped the red cart. Best not to stick around when he unearthed her little cover up. She’d make sure to get him a sapphire muffin, one of his favorites, from The Corner in compensation.

Twilight stepped outside, snapped the door shut, and paused outside the entrance to her home. Turning back towards the door, she adjusted the sign that hung just above the engraving of a lamp.

F I R S T M U N I C I P I A L L I B R A R Y

Hours: 11:00 AM- 5:30 PM

Closed on Weekends

Satisfied, Twilight turned and walked out into the street, cart in tow, and came face to face with the morning chill. A few of the ponies streaming past her door still donned hoods and scarves, but most wore nothing at all—the attire of Spring. Appropriate, considering that summer was right around the corner, and with it, the long awaited Summer Sun Celebration.

Twilight could have hardly believed her ears when Spike had read the letter, so many weeks ago. Ponyville would host the celebration again! Well, technically it would be the first time, considering that the last attempt ended in a near total collapse of Equestrian Society.

Not to mention the whole world. At least she would get to organize it again, and this time with her friends in mind.

The cart stumbled on a crack in the street, as Twilight walked out into the street, rolling Tank around against the sets of extra towels and binoculars. She didn’t notice.

This time around, Fluttershy could do the orchestra, Rarity would handle the decorations, Applejack could cater, Pinkie could host the party, and Dash . . . Rainbow will perform a sweeping dive—right at the moment that Twilight unleashed a tornado of fireworks—over the swarms of cheering ponies that ended with her shattering the sky in a prismatic explosion. Then, as the moon twinkled and illuminated her wings, her lover would swoop down and scoop her into her arms, carrying her high into the clouds as all of the town, and her mentor, watched. Up there, in the freedom of that expanse, they would dance and swerve amongst the stars—just like in the closing chapter of Gone With the Mare.

Twilight sighed. It’s going to be so romantic!

“Good morning Twilight,” came a voice, one that sounded just like the mayor.

“Huh?”

The sudden greeting caught the unicorn by surprise, and she glanced around. The street and mingling crowds had evaporated, replaced by the warm pink and violet hues of Sugarcube Corner. Sometime in the last few minutes, she had arrived at Pinkie’s home.

She wasn't the only one either. Already droves of ponies besieged the entrance, among them what appeared to be a group of school fillies, headed by Cheerilee. The school teacher was saying something to her students, pointing to various features of the building.

Twilight couldn’t hear the words, not above the drone of the other, older ponies gathered around the entrance, staring at the window shops with famished eyes. A large, red ‘CLOSED’ sign still hung from the window, but any second now a pink hoof would turn the plaque over, and the restraints holding the savage horde back would snap and break loose.

Mayor Mare walked towards her, down from the front steps, smiling from behind a moist brown paper bag perched between her teeth. The older mare passed Twilight, gave a cheerful nod, and disappeared into the market square.

“Wave goodbye to the mayor!” said Cheerilee, waving and smiling. Her students didn’t seem so enthusiastic, judging from their hollow stares and frizzled manes that begged to be laid upon a pillow.

The teacher turned back to her students as Twilight approached the front steps. “And this, children, is the bakery. Can anyone tell me what sort of goods you can buy here? Yes, Scootaloo?”

“Can we just get the bagels already?”

Apple Bloom, adjusting her bow, prodded her in the shoulder. “Ah thought we had all agreed on caramel apples?”

Another head perked up, this one with a mane like cotton candy. “You always eat apples.That’s all you and Applejack and Big Macintosh ever eat! Apples, apples, apples. And come on, Rarity is going to kill me if I don’t bring her some sponge cake.”

“Miss Twilight!”

Twilight turned around, just in time to see a pink filly, with a tiara decorating her flank, vent frustration through her nose at another bewildered filly.

“For the last time, Dodo Baggins, it’s Cheerilee. C-H-E-E-R-I-L-E-E. Twilight is the hopeless egghead stuck in the library.”

“Tiara, be nice to our newest student,” Cheerilee interrupted.

The filly in question, a short, stubby little unicorn with a ginger coat and brown hair, shook his head and pointed at Twilight. “No, she’s right behind you.”

Cheerilee glanced over her shoulder. “What? Who . . . oh so it is you! Class, say hello to our local librarian.”

“Good morning Miss Twilight,” echoed the lifeless hoard of fillies, resembling more a collection of wound-up dolls than living, breathing creatures. Twilight had heard more enthusiasm from Rainbow when she had agreed to watch that foreign-language puppet show with her in a shady, run down theater. Even Twilight had agreed afterwards that it had been a bad idea.

The unicorn shuddered. Seven hours ofGermaneighian torture, stuffed full of purple prose and tangled dialogue. At one point, one of the puppets had somehow caught on fire—exactly how, Twilight hadn’t cared. Rainbow Dash, roused from her sleep by the screams, had stood and given a standing ovation, much to the dismay of the fleeing patrons.

At least the seats had been good.

Twilight stepped closer to the school gathering, keeping the cart with Tank close by, addressing them all. “Hello girls. What brings you all here?”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “A stupid fieldtrip— ow! Watch it,” she growled to Scootaloo, who whistled and looked the other way, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Twilight turned to Cheerilee. “A field trip? At this hour?”

The teacher beamed. “Yes, for the study of bromatology.”

“What’s that?” groaned Scootaloo. “The study of bros?”

Cheerilee’s eye twitched, and she continued, “The study of—”

“—Food,” Twilight finished.

The teacher nodded. “I got the idea from those three,” she said, pointing at Apple Bloom and her friends. “The other day they were going on and on about chocolate chip waffles, and how Sugarcube Corner always had a bach ready. So I thought, why not?”

Cheerilee sighed.

“But as you can see . . .” Cheerilee extended a hoof to her students, who had descended into anarchy.

Again.

Apple Bloom played with her mane, looking at Scootaloo. “Ya know, Applejack says that apples are good for ya . . . especially caramel apples. Y’know, cause they’re covered with caramel and all. Caramel. Yes.”

Her orange friend rubbed her temple with a hoof. “Oh not this again.”

Sweetie Bell, meanwhile, fell down to her knees, pleading to deaf ears. “Girls, I am going to die. She is going to stuff me and use me as a mannequin! I NEED that sponge cake.”

Twilight stepped forward. This was an opportunity for a lecture and she wasn’t going to miss out on it. “Girls, don’t you remember what happened the last time you all argued?”

Three sets of empty eyes swiveled around and stared back at her. “No.”

“ . . . Really? Discord? Chocolate Rain? . . . Anything?”

Sweetie Belle prodded Apple Bloom in the shoulder. “Isn’t that when we had to write some essay? Or something?”

“Oh yeah, about some statue. Or something.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah . . . Hmm . . .”

“. . .”

“. . . So we are getting bagels, right?”

Cheerilee's face did all it could to keep from exploding. “Class! Why don’t you go inside? I’ll be right out here discussing with Miss Sparkle OUR FUTURE FIELD TRIP!”

The students heaved a mighty collective groan, which the teacher dodged with ease. Twilight, on the other hand, had to claw her hooves into the ground to prevent getting swept up in the gale.

By the time the dust cloud had settled, the students had vanished, and had somehow forced their way into the technically-still-not open shop, leaving a tattered, swinging front door in their wake. The sounds of screaming and battle trickled through to the outside.

Twilight waited for the storm to whither down, and turned towards Cheerilee.

“I didn't know class starts this early.”

Cheerilee’s face assumed a delicious smirk. “The students don’t know that either. Actually I just really needed a Dark Caramel Espresso a’la Mode.”

“Oh. I’ve never tried that. I’m here to pick up an order of doughnuts.”

Cheerilee nodded, ignoring the blood curling screams pulsing from within the Corner, not a few feet away.

“That’s nice. But I really am interested in organizing a field trip to the library, though I’m not sure at what time would be more convenient for you. Are you changing the hours?”

Twilight scrunched her face. Changing what hours?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re here, but the library doesn’t open until eleven.”

Twilight blinked. Oh, that was why. Many of her neighbors were also probably surprised to see her awake at this hour. Not that it was her fault, anyway. After all, ever since Dash had moved in, she had received some complaints that their nocturnal activities kept everyone awake as they laughed, talked and chased away the night.

That, and other things.

Cheerilee's voice brought her back into the conversation, wiping the goofy grin off her face.

“Twilight?”

“What?”

An eyebrow on Cheerilee’s face lifted. “I asked if you we're changing the library hours? Maybe we could arrange a field trip for eight in the morning?

“Oh, no. You see, I'm taking Tank to the doctor.”

“Tank?” Cheerilee tilted her head to the side, looking over Twilight’s shoulder and searching for whoever she was talking about. After a moment, she gave up. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Oh, right, Rainbow Dash’s pet tortoise,” the unicorn said, motioning towards the cart behind her. “Dash couldn’t take him to the vet today, so I’m doing it for her.”

“Oh! Are you going to Fluttershy’s? Say hi to your marefriend for me, I haven't seen her in a long time.”

Sure thing—Wait, what?

Now it was Twilight’s turn to arch her eyebrows. “Um, sure? I'll let her know the next time I see her. Now, as far as the field trip goes . . .”

Cheerilee nodded. “I’m open to anything.”

“Right. How about I teach the class about astronomical navigation?”

A warm smile tugged at the corner of Cheerilee’s mouth.“You like to teach, Twilight? Well I suppose being a librarian does mean you love learning and passing on that knowledge to others. They had offered me the Ponyville Library before you came along. Did anyone ever tell you that? I turned down the position; I wouldn't give up my students for anything.”

Twilight’s eyes brightened. “Why yes I do! And no. You see, I’ve never taught a class before, but I have been teaching Rainbow about the various constellations at night. We both think it will help us navigate in the dark; you know, when neither of us has a compass nearby. Maybe your students would be interested on the matter? I have these wonderful reference guides . . . what?”

Sometime during her explanation, Cheerilee had arched another eyebrow. “Rainbow Dash takes you flying? At night?”

“Why yes! At first I was terrified, as Dash loves to make sudden dives, but after awhile I got used to it.” The unicorn fidgeted a leg, not really knowing what to do with it, shying away from the teacher’s probing eyes. “And, well, what can I say? I trust her.”

Cheerilee's hoof slammed into her forehead and a loud smack echoed, startling Twilight. “I’m so sorry Twilight! You and Rainbow are dating. That explains it. For a moment, I had thought that—” The teacher broke off mid-sentence, clamming her mouth shut.

Twilight thought she could see embarrassment lurking behind Cheerilee eyes.“What? You had thought what?”

The teacher sighed. “I’m sorry. For some reason I thought that you and Fluttershy were still . . .”

“What? What, did you think that . . . no . . . Did you think we were still dating?!” Twilight deadpanned.

“I, uh, well, you see . . .Yes. The last I heard was that party thrown for you and Fluttershy.”

Twilight’s jaw hit the floor. “That was almost a year ago.”

“. . . I’m sorry?”

The queasy smiled returned to Twilight’s lips. Best to play along with it. “Don't worry about it. It’s all in the past right? Besides, I’m with someone now.”

“Miss Cheerilee! Dodo is chewing on the tables again.”

They both turned to look at the speaker, Diamond Tiara, whose head poked out the doorway.

Twilight coughed. Now was a good time to retreat behind a cloud of smoke. Whatever was happening inside the bakery would provide a good excuse. “Well, it seems I should get going. Looks like you’re pretty busy,” she said, swinging an arm through the air and throwing on her best, I-am-totally-not-faking-this, face.

Cheerilee turned towards the unicorn. “You mentioned you needed to pick up an order? Care to join us? We can discuss the field trip in detail.”

“No thanks,” she squeaked. “I really should get going. Sick tortoise, running late, you know.”

Cheerilee peered over her shoulder at the cart. She nodded. “Is that so? Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Of course. I’ll consider that field trip,” she replied as she swiveled her eyes back out into the market and marched out towards the town center in terse, grim steps, barely catching Cheerilee’s reply.

“It was a pleasure talking to you Twilight!”

“You too,” came the reply through gritted teeth.

Still dating Fluttershy! How can anyone still think that? It’s practically unbelievable!

Hounded by Cheerilee's remark, Twilight moved past the crowds and into the market square.

On the outside, the stalls resembled the calm and peaceful poise of the library, in stark contrast to the madness at the bakery. Ponies navigated the stands with the serenity of koi drifting through a solitary pond. Twilight joined them in the square, wading alone in her thoughts and steady in her steps, cart in tow.

The clouds above told a different story.

Rays of sunshine hammered away at the thinning sky, ripping apart the grey seams and casting crisscrossing cobwebs of golden light that splintered the dark expanse. Large gaps appeared at points where the sunlight had punched through, and the flurry of pegasi wings flashed through the visible holes where the clouds fell apart.

A whole year. Twelve months. Twilight quickened her pace past the stalls, ignoring the various offers tossed her way.

“I’ll give you this cherry for twenty bits!”

“Buy one, get one free!”

“Over productive morning. All surplus must go!”

The cold, chalky street kept her attention as she bore past the market. Was the whole town thinking this?

“Fresh apples! Try one of our tasty green apples! Straight from the farm, just like the ones we use to make cider. Howdy Twilight!”

For the second time in so many minutes, another pony had managed to stumble across her in the middle of her thoughts. The sugary drawl tore her gaze up from the street and into the farmer’s eyes.

Applejack was looking right at her, behind a sales cart not more than ten feet away. Big Macintosh moved from behind her, placing large bin-fulls of apples on the cart which creaked and swayed under the weight. Her stall had a miniature gathering of its own, attracting a few envious glares from neighboring vendors.

The farm pony tapped her stetson, and motioned beyond Twilight’s shoulder. “Isn’t that cart over there yours?”

Twilight followed her gaze and saw the red cart, with Tank still sitting atop it, well behind her in the middle of the square. “Oh!” A quick snap of the magical lasso and the cart was once more at her side.

“You okay, hun? You seem a little off. Sour morning?”

“I’m fine. It’s just . . . you know what nevermind.” Twilight hung her head, a heavy sigh rolling out of her mouth.

Applejack nodded her head. “Whatever’s on your mind, don’t let it get to ya sugar. I’m sure Dash will love to hear about it later—are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Of course! Why?”

“You just flinched.” Applejack looked over Twilight's shoulder, and motioned to some location behind her. “Was it something Cheerilee said?”

Twilight spun around. The bakery stood within sight of the apple cart, peeking out through a cobweb of fruit stands and vegetable carts.

Releasing a frustrated growl, Twilight looked back to the farmer. “Applejack, when did Pinkie throw that party for me and Fluttershy?”

Applejack placed a hoof to her chin and hummed in concentration. “Why, I reckon that was over—”

“A year ago. And get this: Cheerilee thought we were still dating! Yes, Fluttershy and I. Can you believe her?”

Twilight punctuated the last question with a hoof stomp on the ground, and the let the question hang in the sub subsequent silence. Whatever reaction she had hoped to draw out from the farmer, she wasn't getting it.

Applejack’s face stared back at her, blank, not a hint of emotion scribbled on her steady eyes or tight mouth. Removing her Stetson, she scratched the back of her head.

“Well, hate to break it to ya Twilight, but you two haven’t exactly been the most sociable of friends as of late.”

Twilight’s eyebrows nearly leaped off her face. “What do you mean?”

“AJ,” called Big Macintosh’s deep voice.

“Yeah, yeah, in a sec,” Applejack fired off towards her brother behind her, and turned back to Twilight.

“Look at it from mah point of view. You kinda whisked her into your little hut and cut yourself off from the rest of the world. For a second, we all thought you had kidnapped her, or something. You two disappeared into your library and that’s all we hear from you two, ever. I only found out you and Rainbow were dating because Fluttershy mentioned it. You two don’t talk to anyone else, you don’t drop by and chat, you forget all about us . . . Some of the folk in this square haven’t seen you for days, if not weeks. And so Cheerilee comes along and says the obvious. What were ya expecting?”

“Wait, what? Me and Dash haven't turned to into hermits. There was that time when we both—”

“Uh, sis?” prodded a besieged Big Macintosh. A new set of ponies had taken it upon themselves to simultaneously heckle the red stallion over pricing. The apple in question appeared to be a lone Golden Delicious, the last of its kind amongst a sea of shiny red Fujis.

Applejack glanced over her shoulder at the carnage. “I hear ya brother. Go on ahead, Twi, you were saying?”

Twilight’s stomach answered instead, rumbling out a low growl. A few of the nearby customers within earshot glanced in her direction.

Applejack whistled. “Geez girl! Ya hungry?”

Twilights stomach seized the opportunity, and rumbled in anticipation. Salvation was at hand.

Applejack shook her head. “We’ll talk later, alright? First you gotta get yourself something to eat.” She turned to her brother manning the stall, “Big Mac, toss me an apple over here. Yup, that big red one. Here!”

The red apple went sailing through the air, and Twilight caught it mid-air with a flick of her magic. The smooth surface was polished to a brilliant sheen, and a miniature Twilight gazed back at her through the reflection.

“Don't worry about the bits, hun, this one’s on the farm.”

Twilight looked back up, surprised. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Well shoot, why would I be mad at you? All we need is to have a sit down and chat, straighten the boards. You’ve done nothing wrong Twi, I would never be mad at you.”

Twilight busied herself in stashing the apple into her cart, not quite matching Applejack’s steady gaze. “Thank you. I’ll eat this on my way to Fluttershy’s. I need to get Tank there.”

Applejack, who up to till that moment had worn a beaming grin, squawked and tilted her head. “Tank? Rainbow’s pet? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s sick,” Twilight said, squeezing the apple in between the wrapped tortoise and her binoculars. “Dash is working today, so it’s up to me to make sure he’s looked after.”

“So that’s what the shivering egg in the cart is. Well I’ll be headin’ that way myself likcety split,” she said, returning to her brother. “Fluttershy likes her apples delivered in the morning, right about now. Go on ahead, Twi. I’ll catch up,”

They bade their farewells, and Twilight managed to exit the marketplace with some grace. A moment later, she was back on the lonely road to Fluttershy’s cottage.

And Cheerilee’s remark followed her every step of the way.

Something was . . . off

The trees swayed in the gentle breeze that had picked up, and a legion of birds lingered just beyond the branches. Sets of beady little eyes studied her from all angles, watching every footstep. The feathered sentinels grew in number the closer she neared the yellow cottage, as if summoned from the depths of her agitated mind.

Dozens of silent glares tossed her way from the undergrowth. Twilight looked back down at the dirt road.

They were there too.

Shadowy figures darted in between the foliage, rustling the shrubs they dove into and conversing in hushed tones. The whispers were useless to her ears, meaningless gibberish uttered in some unknown woodland language. If she didn’t know any better, though, she could swear she heard traces of disapproval in their tones.

One brown rabbit in particular braved the unknown and flew up to the unicorn, pausing before her feet.

Twilight ground to a halt, and the cart stopped alongside her. The mudpile of blankets that had once resembled Tank seemed to lean its ‘head’ to the side, asking the same question.

Twilight shook her head. “Ok, this is getting weird . . .”

The little rabbit looked up at her, the black swirls of his eyes containing all manner of secrets. He stood there, between her and further progress up the road. Fluttershy’s cottage wasn’t much farther, just a another minute or two walking and she’d be over the iconic bridge.

The rabbit, however, wasn’t moving. Twilight sighed; well, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Um, hello?”

Silence.

She cleared her throat. “Hi there. Would you mind letting me pass? I have a very sick pet I need to tend to for a very good friend. What do you say?”

The rabbit turned his gaze past her shoulder and peered at the red cart. He lifted a brown paw and pointed at something on the carriage, presumably a ball of woven cloth.

“Yes, him. I'm a friend of Fluttershy’s. May I please go through?”

As impossible as it seemed, the bunny flinched when she had mentioned the pegasus's name. Twilight scratched her head. Was it possible that they had . . . met before?

Regardless, the rabbit turned and stared off into the distance; first at the branches, and then at the surrounding brush. For several seconds the foliage kept his attention, as if he was waiting for some sign of approval from mother nature. If more were animals hidden in the undergrowth, Twilight couldn’t tell. They had concealed themselves with masterful precision.

At last the rabbit shrugged, and stepped aside. At the same moment several other creatures emerged from the shadows: rabbits, gophers, frogs, raccoons, and even a few birds from the trees, all pausing a good distance from Twilight. They sat there, waiting for her to do something.

Twilight glanced around at the makeshift gathering. “Uh, thanks?” She summoned a tendril of magic, and tugged at the cart. The animals parted for her as she walked past, but otherwise held their ground. A few more steps and some yards later, they still stood there, watching.

But not for long.

First one, then two, then all of her silent guards began following her. Soon Twilight found that it wasn’t only the red cart that was trailing after her, but a miniature herd of woodland creatures. Not a single word passed between them; they might as well have been mobile statues.

Ignoring them, Twilight followed the winding road around a bend, and came face to face with a muddled stream. The swirling strands of water idled through the mudbank, picking up clots of soot and clay that drifted along beneath the still reflection. A few more feet ahead, past rows of sharp grass rooted near the water, stood a bridge surrounded by nature’s green, and just beyond lay Fluttershy’s home. The cottage made no effort to stand out amongst the gentle trees or the surrounding soft, rolling hills. Beautiful, yet solemn in its isolation.

And, as ridiculous as it seemed, an even greater multitude of furry creatures awaited her. The collection here rivaled the one in Celestia’s gardens. Cadance had taken her there many times as a foal; all the wondrous creatures in the world resided in that small little sanctuary. Colorful butterflies, large spider monkeys, cute little ducks, even an exotic flamingo.

Fluttershy’s cottage had all this, plus a bear. All stood silent, pensive, watching, as if they were protecting something.

She glanced at the wooden door of the cottage.

Or someone.

It’s as if they know.

Twilight cleared her throat, and risked a few steps towards the bridge. When nothing happened, she braved a few more feet, even going as far as laying a footstep on the wooden bridge itself. With baited breath, she glanced at the wall of eyes that followed her progress. It wasn’t the fish, nor the birds, nor the rabbits that concerned her; no, her fear was reserved for the stern looking ravenous ogre that humbly referred to itself as a bear.

Yet nothing happened; the watch guards seemed content with letting her pass. Well, the bridge, at least. Things might turn a bit harrier once she dared knock at the door.

But knock on the door she must.

Twilight’s head remained squarely on her shoulders by the time she had finished crossing the moat. Keen on keeping things that way, she started up the small ascension to Fluttershy’s door, but paused before the imposing wooden gates.

The little brown bunny from before was back, standing sentinel before his mistresses fortress with his shoulders crossed. Twilight glanced left and right; all the animals leaned forward, expecting some momentous event to come crashing down from the pages of destiny.

Twilight sighed. “Are you going to let me in or not?” The makeshift egg on her cart too shivered in irritation.

Twilight stared at the rabbit, and the bunny stared right back. Slowly, he raised his tiny paw and struck the door in three precise, measured knocks. From beyond came the sounds of a fumbling lock, and a moment later the door creaked open.

At first, the open door revealed nothing but the furniture of the room. It took a moment for Twilight to realize that she had to look down to see who had opened the door, and down . . . and down . . .

Angel, Fluttershy’s self-titled bouncer, stood staring up at her with one paw on the wooden handle and the other hanging by his side, mouth wide open in disbelief. His eyes vomited a disgusted look unto Twilight, and he turned his lethal glare towards his fellow kind: the brown companion.

Furious spit flew back and forth as the two rabbits escalated into a heated debate. Twilight could only watch, guessing at their thoughts. At one point, the brown bunny raised a paw and made a show of pointing at the cart that Twilight had brought along.

Angel’s banter ceased, and he shifted his gaze between Tank, the unicorn, and his trusted confidant. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back into the room . . . and slammed the door shut.

Twilight blinked. “What just happened.” The egg sitting in her cart offered a shrug in reply.

Grasping the handle, she glanced back towards the direction of the road. If Angel was going to refuse her entry, then her only other option of medical attention lay in—

A furry little paw tugged at her leg. She glanced down, and saw the brown bunny holding up a paw, signalling her to wait.

Wait? Wait for what?

The answer came with the sound of hoofsteps approaching the door, accompanied by a sweet, innocent whisper. “What's that Angel bunny? Someone’s at the door? With a big cart?”

Before Twilight could bulletproof her mind and soul, the door was opened by none other than her ex-marefriend.

“Good morning Applejack. If you don’t mind, maybe this time you could set the apples down . . . in . . .”

The buttery pegasus clamped her lips shut. The pale unicorn feared opening hers. The solution, of course, was to open her mouth and hope for the best.

“Good-morning-Fluttershy-great-weather-we’re-having-hey-listen IwaswonderingifyoucouldtakealookatthistortoiseformeDashreallyneedsthisfavor!”

Fluttershy only offered confused blinks in reply.

Twilight could almost see the words bouncing off the pegasus’s skull; she heard their screams as they flew off into space. No good; her thick, blunted dictation proved impenetrable to all but the most dedicated of linguists. Time to fall back onto the backup plan: wide smiles, heavy sweat, and tremendous hope in a higher power that the pegasus would be the one to initiate conversation.

Her prayers were answered.

Hiding one eye behind a loose lock of pink mane, Fluttershy lowered her gaze to the unicorns feet. “I’m sorry Twilight, co-could you repeat-t that?”

She was stuttering. Why is she stuttering?

Twilight’s desperate grin ever widened. “Sure thing buddy ol’ pal!”

“. . .”

“Um, Twilight?”

“Right! You see, Rainbow this morning went to her house to . . . pick up a few things. She brought Tank back to the Library,” she stepped to the side to give her ex a better view of the cart, “but he’s very sick. I was wondering if maybe you could—”

Fluttershy’s scream cut off whatever Twilight was going to say next. She struggled to stumble out of the way of the stampeding pegasus in time, almost tripping over as Fluttershy screeched past her. Before she could say anything, her ex-marefriend disappeared back into the cottage, cradling the quilt-wrapped tortoise in her hooves and not bothering to close the door behind her.

A moment later, she reappeared in the doorway. “P-please. Come in.”

Had things always been like this, even back then?

Outwardly, Twilight said, “Thanks.” Stepping past the seething glare of Angel, the unicorn entered the cottage to see Fluttershy hovering over an exposed Tank, all the extra quilts piled in a neat stack next to his cold shell.

“Fluttershy,” Twilight hissed. “What are you doing?! Those quilts are the only thing keeping him warm!”

The pegasus didn’t glance in her direction as she fed a thermometer into the tortoise’s mouth. “Oh, don’t worry about that Twilight. You see, tortoises, like Tank, are cold blooded; they don't produce much in the way of body heat. Wrapping Tank in a blanket didn’t really do anything because there's no heat source to trap. Now, if you had wrapped him with a hot water bottle, or something, that would have been a good idea.”

Twilight blinked as Fluttershy pulled out the thermometer and frowned. Without another word, the pegasus floated over to the kitchen and took out a large bowl from the lower cabinets.

“Although I do appreciate that you brought him here as soon as you could.”

The complement had no effect on Twilight, whose mouth hung open in wide shock. For perhaps the very first time in all of Equestrian history, it was someone else who knew the obscure details of a niche subject, and not her.

“Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“Could you get me my recipe book? I think Angel left it in my . . . room.”

Fluttershy might as well been asking her to retrieve a lump of unshielded plutonium. Twilight glanced towards the stairs, recalling an evening she’d rather have banished from her memories. “I think I remember where it is.”

Fluttershy didn’t answer as the unicorn ascended the first steps into the upper floor of the cottage. She might as well have been ascending a scaffold. The wood panelling, the creaky steps, the beige doors, and at on the first door to the left, that all-too-familiar room . . .

The door offered no resistance.

Twilight stood in the doorway, peering into another world. Fluttershy’s inner retreat within the isolated cottage resembled more a chicken coop than a typical bedroom. Scattered bird houses dangled from the ceiling, while images of butterflies dominated every blanket and every picture frame. Underneath the images lay scented candles, topping the cabinets and drawers and laced the air with their tickling scent; just like last time. The fireplace as well, had been lit that night, casting glows upon the midnight bed sheets.

The night that Fluttershy had tried to sleep with—

“Twilight!” came the muffled cry through the floor, causing the unicorn to stare in awe at the floorboards. Amazing that Fluttershy’s meek voice had managed to the penetrate strong oak. Perhaps she had changed; that, or Twilight had just never really gotten to know her in the first place.

The unicorn backpedaled out the door and down the hallway. A few steps later, she poked her head through the stairs.

“Yes, Fluttershy?”

Sometime in the few minutes she had vanished upstairs, Fluttershy had arranged a line of cabbages into a neat, little row of death, every head awaiting a grisly fate. The tip of a large cleaver sat sunken into a wooden cutting board, awaiting the appointed hour. Off to the side, Fluttershy had a large, checkered recipe book opened to a page depicting a salad bowl.

Fluttershy’s meek eyes shone in the glint reflection of the blade.

“Oh, Angel found it. It was down here.”

Twilight took a few more steps down the stairs, and glanced at the bunny. The white rabbit stood behind the counter with Fluttershy, his shark eyes glaring right back at her. There was no mercy in those eyes.

“Oh, ok,” Twilight said as she stepped onto the first floor once more. She glanced towards the door.

“Alrighty then! Tank is in good hooves, and I’ll be on my way then. Unless you need me to stay?”

The pegasus kept her gaze fixed into the bowl and said nothing.

“No?” Her legs carried her towards the wooden exit that was all the difference between enduring a pregnant silence and tasting the freedom of the outside world. Maybe some of Dash was rubbing off on her after all.

Which was all the more reason to leave.

She tried very hard to hide the pinpricks of sweat that sprinkled her forehead and the uneasy laugh that fumbled past her lips. “I’ll be back later to check up on him, for now—”

“Twilight,” came the response, clear and measured.

Twilight’s march across the room came to a careening halt. Cautiously, as if sensing an impending trap, Twilight’s head rotated around, though she didn’t dare look at the pegasus in the eye. “Yes?”

“Why is Tank sick?”

The unicorn didn’t risk an answer. It was answer enough.

Fluttershy wrenched the blade from the cutting board’s grip and lined the sharpened edge against the delicate, leafy flesh of the first cabbage. “It’s alright, I'm sure you two were busy doing . . . things.”

The knife hung in mid-air, poised for a deafening strike that Twilight’s ears awaited with baited breath. The vulnerable, soft folds of green vegetable awaited the first blow, arranged as a sacrificial offering upon a kitchen altar. Any moment now, a voice of judgement would slap down a weighted sentence upon her taut muscles and tense ears.

Fluttershy did not disappoint.

“Although it still doesn’t excuse what she did.” The blade swung down in a vicious stroke and decapitated the first cabbage with a loud thunk.

For all it was worth, it might as well have been directed at Twilight’s heart.

The stabs did not stop. Fluttershy’s hooves blurred with practiced precision, picking up a staccato beat of sword versus nature. The first cabbage disappeared beneath her automatonic movements, shredded into fine strips. With one vegetable head taken care of, Fluttershy used the blade to shove the shredded leaves off the cutting board and into the bowl she had taken out earlier.

She rolled the next cabbage into position.

Twilight raised her voice a notch. “Uh, Fluttershy?”

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

“He was probably all by himself, wondering where she went. Missing her, worried that she didn’t care about him anymore.”

Thunk, thunk, THUNK.

“Thinking about the first time they had met, how she had promised to always be there for her.”

Wait, her? The blade gave no further time for thought as it bore down again with a vengeance and sawed through the thick cabbage.

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM.

“I'm sure she had a good reason.”

“Uh, well . . .”

The loud smacks of metal against cutting board ceased, and the blade stilled. Fluttershy set her tool down and looked at Twilight, her eyes demanding an explenation.

Her eyes . . .

Something hard stared back at her, hidden deep within those softly hue eyes. She knew that look. A torrent of emotions swelled within her, ghosts of the past whirling around an orange farmer and her athletic marefriend. The images of yesterday flickered before her eyes, fantasies of one very jealous unicorn seizing an orange mare, the only one who stood between her joy and despair,by the throat and squeezing until her grip went numb. The delicious, bulging eyes, the pleading look, the almost-musical strained gasps, the stupid, bloodless purple face . . .

I had wanted to strangle Applejack, back then.

“Fluttershy, you were talking about me, weren’t you?”

The pegasus at once retreated her eyes behind a lock of pink mane, and buried her gaze in the vegetable filled bowl.

Twilight sighed. “Look, Fluttershy, it was my fault. It was my idea that Rainbow move into the library and we've been so busy together that we both forgot about Tank. If there’s anyone you should be upset at, it’s me.” Her voice lowered to a colder tone. “And do you remember what I told you back then? I warned you not to get involved with me. I already belonged to someone else.”

“Are you sure?” There was a fire in her voice that Twilight had never heard before.

“Yes, why?”

“I wasn’t talking about . . . ‘us.’”

“Huh?”

Fluttershy looked up, confused, as if not believing her ears. “You mean . . . you really don’t know?”

“I really don’t know what?”

The look that the pegasus gave her almost forced Twilight to take a step back. The unicorn had long read of many case studies of meek, repressed ponies, and all the conclusions were generally the same: beware the wrath of the quiet mare. Yet the look wasn't one of anger, nor rage, nor even jealousy.

It was pity.

“Well howdy there partner! You’re awful cure for a little critter. Is Shy’ home? Well just don’t mind me if I knock. And be a pal and tell that bear friend of yours to stop starin’ at me, will ya?”

The sudden voice flew through the thick mahogany of the front door and shattered the awkward silence in the room. Twilight shot a look towards the entrance. She’d recognize that friendly drawl anywhere.

Angel bunny didn’t bother seeking either her approval, or Fluttershy’s; he bounded over to the door and flung it wide open for the orange mare without a moment’s hesitation. Not so much as a challenge, threatful glance or even an interrogatory glare. It let Twilight know where she stood in the cottage hierarchy.

Applejack poked her head in, a large bucket-full of red, juicy apples perched on her back. “Good morning Fluttershy! I got your usual order right here. Want me to set it in the back? Oh, and is Twilight around? I need to talk with her.”

I need to talk with her. Twilight twitched her tail.

Fluttershy nodded, gaze still hidden, but otherwise didn’t squeak a word.

“What’s the matter hun? You’re quakin’ like a Pinkie Pie in Cider Season.” Applejack stepped through the door and approached the kitchen. “You look like you just saw a ghost, or just had a spat with an ex-lover-er-er-ER! Hey Twi, didn’t see you there!” She shot a screaming glance towards the pegasus.

Twilight’s nose twitched. Fluttershy’s ears sagged. Applejack projected her saggy smile at the pair; if this was her idea of brightening the room, it wasn’t working.

Clearing her throat, Applejack ventured into the minefield, heading first into the living room. Twilight’s eyes followed her progress, unsure whether to welcome her as a savior or lament the addition of another mourner to this funeral procession.

The farm pony paused before the naked tortoise shivering on the floor.

“Whooe!” She bent over and parked her snout inches from Tank. “How’s the feller holdin’ up?”

Twilight opened her mouth . . . but closed it. She looked towards Fluttershy, and Applejack followed suite.

Fluttershy cringed before the unicorn’s silent glare, all traces of the previous anger gone; Twilight might as well have pummeled her with a jackhammer. “He’s . . . fine.”

“. . . Fine . . .” Applejack turned her head to the side and looked back down at the wheezing pet. “You sure? Cause he don’t look ‘fine’ to me.”

“Oh, yes. He just needs some bedrest and some food. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

Applejack glanced at Twilight. “Food?”

Twilight’s ears twitched in alarm.

“Yes,” replied the pegasus, nudging the bowl towards Tank with her snout, “he hasn’t eaten in days.”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to cringe. Of course Fluttershy would have found out, she’s a veterinarian! Pent up frustration could steam out of Fluttershy on occasion, but her trivial fussing paled in comparison to the fiery muscle Applejack packed in her jaw. When the farm pony so willed it, she could unleash an unholy war that only years of stubborn pride could fuel. Twilight flinched; maybe she should clamber under the table before the first accusations fell.

They never came.

Applejack scratched her head. “Is that so?”

Twilight risked peeping open an eye. WHAT?!

“Fluttershy,” the mare continued, speaking to the pegasus but fixing a paralyzing stare unto the unicorn, “Rainbow Dash forgot about him. Didn’t she.” It wasn’t a question

Twilight babbled, Fluttershy nodded.

Applejack sighed. “I was afraid that would happen.”

“Wait, you saw this coming? You were expecting this?” Anxiety quickly gave way to anger. “Are all of you against our relationship?”

Fluttershy shot the farm pony a quizzical look, and Twilight could read the question in her eyes. Everyone?

Applejack raised a hoof. “Simmer down Twi, I didn’t mean that. No one is judging you— either of you.”

“Then what did you mean?”

The farmer didn’t respond. She passed the burden to the pegasus with a glance, but Fluttershy’s eyes dug into the floorboards.

Twilight sighed; she needed answers. “Fluttershy, I’m sorry I got a little angry at you. I shouldn’t have done that. Please tell me what’s going on?”

If her words had any luck penetrating the pegasus’s shell, she didn’t show it. First the floor of her cottage trapped her gaze, then the kitchen, then the tortoise. Sighing, she at last looked up and, looking at Twilight in the eye, began her story.

“Umm, are you sure about this?”

“Sure! It will only take a second, come on you slow poke.”

The blue sky stared down at her, strewn with isolated clouds and decorated by a cheerful sun. It wasn’t cold—the air was chilly at best—for summer still held a faint grasp onto the day, and winter’s breath wouldn’t come for another few months. Somewhere below her, the distant murmur of the town dimmed to a faint whisper, and then shrunk into silence.

A silence that left the town behind and accompanied Fluttershy on her journey into the sky. She still wasn’t sure where Dash was taking her.

“I haven’t seen you around lately . . .” Fluttershy had to strain the muscles in her throat in order to be heard.

Harmless small talk, but it was a step in cracking the pegasus’ shell.

The cyan pegasus didn’t turn around. “Oh. I’ve been around.”

Rainbow Dash led her higher into the sky, flying a little too fast for the slower pegasus to keep up. She passed a solitary cloud, spotting a larger one up ahead that coated the blue ceiling with a smear of grey. Rainbow didn’t seem to veer around it; that was probably their destination.

Watching her cyan body disappear into the thick cloud, Fluttershy found herself floating alone atop of the world. Coming up to this height was a rarity for her; Rainbow, on the other hand, was up here almost every day, practicing her stunts. Or at least, that’s what Fluttershy assumed.

Her blue surroundings were, for the most part, empty; only a few icy clouds spoiled the sunny day. Dash hadn’t been very clear on why she needed her help shaping the weather today; then again, she hadn't been clear on a lot of things as of late. Like why her friends couldn't find her on most days.

Or why she was spending so much time at the Library.

Pumping her wings, she wandered into the same cloud Rainbow had flown into and emerged above the cloud bank. She found her athletic counterpart waiting for her above the puffy ceiling, tapping a leg impatiently against the soft surface. Behind Dash drifted a cloud, darker and more menacing than the cute, fluffy one that floated beneath her feet.

There was something about this cloud; it wasn’t like the ones Fluttershy usually saw. She braved a few more inches towards uncertainty.

It stood out of place among the blue sky, crackling with a dark energy as lightning-blue tendrils flashed and pulsed along its jagged surface. The renegade thunder-cloud hummed with energy as Fluttershy drew closer, responding to her presence. Stray lightning spewed out as so much poison.

Cold shivers seized Fluttershy’s spine. Did it suddenly get drafty? The warm earth called to her, suggesting she descend back down to its comforting embrace.

But Dash needed her here. Right in front of the big, scary, no-good-it’s-probably-harmless-oh-no-it-isn’t cloud.

Rainbow didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.

“This guy drifted in from the Everfree. Those clouds are a little tricky to disperse. Usually I’d do it all on my own, but this is one nasty piece of work.”

“A-And you want me to, to d-do what?”

Rainbow waved a hoof. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

“Umm . . . okay.”

The cyan pegasus drifted above and below the darkened cloud, studying every angle. At last, she nodded, pointing to a bulbous mass protruding out the far end.

“There! Give it a good kick right there.” She zipped to the opposite end of the cloud, rearing her legs at another portion.

Give it a good kick right there. There, as in the dark, bubbly portion. The dark bubbly portion that might as well have been a gathering place for all things evil. The dark bubbly portion that glared at her as she approached the wispy monster, rumbling in anger. Flickers of strobed lightning cackled and hissed at her presence, daring her to take one more step.

Fluttershy shot a few feet back, longing for the warmth of her closet and a certain teddy bear. “Why?”

Rainbow sighed, and turned to face her. “These Everfree clouds require two ponies. One has to kick the thunder-cloud and empty it of water. That’s you. I’m going to do the same and rebalance the positive and negative electrical charges. After that, we’ll have a regular, harmless cloud.

Fluttershy blinked.“Rebalance the electrical charge?”

“Yeah, rebalance the charges. Lightning happens when they get out of sync. I learned it from . . . nevermind. You ready?”

“I-I don’t know Rainbow . . . don’t you remember last time?”

There was a very good reason why Fluttershy didn't work for the weather team. She couldn’t forget, and no one else could for that matter. An event as horrifying as that wasn’t swept from memory easily, more so considering that it was the only time in the history of Ponyville that rain, hail, and a tornado had coincided with the Midsummer Tomato Festival. Not a pretty picture; not even the higher-ups in Cloudsdale could figure out how Fluttershy had managed to whip up such a disaster.

The official investigation had been brief and to the point. Pegasuses afraid of heights and fond of animals didn’t mix well with storm manufactory, apparently. A quick wave of the bureaucratic hoof, a liability waiver, and Ponyville gained its sole veterinary practitioner.

She still had nightmares about it.

And here stood this cloud, hellish fangs wide open, whispering the mistakes of the past.

Taunting her.

Rainbow couldn’t hear it. “Oh suck it up girl! Sure it was bad. I mean, we’ve never ever had another tomato festival here again. And all the tomato growers fled the country. Remember Sugar Vine? Yeah she was pretty cool . . .”

Her voice trailed off and Rainbow buried her gaze into the horizon. She came back a moment later.

“But I took care of it, remember! Look, I promise nothing will go wrong. If anything does happen, I’ll be here for you, ok? Just like old times.”

“O-Old times?” The old times hadn’t been particularly good.

Without waiting for a response, Rainbow turned around and reared her hind legs again.

Meanwhile, Fluttershy's eyes gravitated back to her chosen mark. It was now or never.

“Okay, h-here goes . . .”

“Awesome! On my mark!”

Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut, and wound her legs up for a kick. Remember flight camp. It was all in the breathing, she had to time her movements. Rainbow was counting on her, and any second now . . .

ONE.

The sharp bark of the command jolted her mind into overdrive. Oh no, I’m not ready, just give me a few more seconds, I promise; Maybe I should beg, no, pleading is better, no, beseeching always does the trick, no wait—

TWO.

I’m sorry! Please Sugar Vine. I won’t ever touch another tomato again I swear. U-unless Angel asks me for it. Then I can’t really avoid it because, you see, he likes his salads with just a touch of . . .

“Three!”

. . . Because otherwise, he gets very upset. Oh, yes, I know. I’m sorry about the festival. I hope the destruction of your family’s farm didn’t cause too much trouble. Oh, it did? Well, maybe then—

“Fluttershy! NOW.”

—Oh!

Fluttershy lashed out a moment too late, and managed to catch a glimpse of Rainbow’s astonished face just as her hooves connected with the outer edge of the cloud.

Then everything, from the dark cloud to her stunned friend to the surrounding blue expanse, bleached into a harsh white.

What happened next was a blur. Whatever she had kicked into the cloud, it felt like cloud had kicked back a thousand times over. All she knew was that she had left Sunshine world and entered Pain world. White hot sparks leapt into her hind legs and crawled up her spine at dizzying speeds, roasting every bone. Her nerves shriveled and died, failing to gauge the magnitude of the inferno that roared underneath her skin—every cell was on fire.

The whole world spun, and through it all her wings screamed in agony. She tried yelping, shouting, crying, anything, but found no breath in her lungs: the electrical tempest had long robbed her of the necessary air. If she ever had to take a shower inside a lightning storm while riding a toaster, she imagined it would feel something like this.

Something hard and heavy shoved her, and all at once the pain stopped, as if someone had thrown a switch. Fluttershy might have skidded a few feet, drifted a few meters, or plummeted across a universe, she had no way of knowing.

Only silence remained. All of her world fell into a deep abyss, cold and numb.

Then came the air; a cold, merciless air that rushed past her, clawing past her skin and ripping the warmth from her face. All in all it was a vaguely familiar sensation, long buried in memories of flight camp.

Flight camp.

Where had she experienced this before?

Flight camp . . . the pegasus race . . . Rainbow Dash . . . falling . . .

The ground.

Fly.

Fluttershy’s eyes snapped wide open. She couldn't make out anything. The world swirled around her, Ponyville rotating in and out of view several times. Or at least she assumed that the muddy, spiraling smear on the ground was Ponyville. More alarmingly, whatever few clouds that milled about zipped past at a shocking rate. Upwards.

Fly.

She had to fly; it was the difference between life and death. She tried twitching a wing, begging for a response.

Nothing.

She tugged at the useless appendage, her brain screaming instructions at the charred skin. Somehow, though the blistering cold and the howling wind, the faint smell of singed feathers met her nose.

Nothing.

Desperate now, she flexed the other wing. Flexed, tugged, pleaded, twitched, pulled, screamed, bit; losing it all in the wind . . .

Nothing.

Time, whatever little she had left of it, seemed to slow down the world around her. Or did it accelerate? It didn’t matter anymore. The gentle rise of a flock of canaries in the horizon might as well have screamed past at scorching speeds. The ground far below might as well have reached up and touched her in the eternity it took to reach it.

She closed her eyes. At least it won’t hurt.

“Fluttershy!”

Her eyes snapped open. In that voice lay all of Fluttershy’s hopes, fears, and dreams; her very life now depended on Rainbow Dash, and her promise.

If anything does happen, I’ll be there for you. Just like old times.

The pegasus burst into view, rising with the sun, the only discernable object in the sky. Everything else was just a blur. Head tucked low, wings angle back, and with a fierce determination in her eyes, her savior began a sharp descent to meet her. But there was something else in those eyes, hidden behind proud magenta walls. Something that wasn’t usually there.

Fluttershy could have sworn that Dash looked . . . scared?

“Hang on!”

For a moment, Dash made progress. Screaming through the air, the pegasus bolted after her, and the pegasus’ face soon replaced everything else in Fluttershy’s eyes. Any moment now, a cyan hoof would reach out and pull her back to safety. Just like old times.

Fluttershy held out her hoof as Rainbow extended hers and . . and . . .

Something was wrong.

Rainbow panted and wheezed, her face colored bright red. Heavy sweat rocketed past her face, lost in the wind, as a panic look crept into her eyes. She held out her hoof, wiggling it in frustration at the canary pegasus who lay just out of reach.

Fluttershy groped back, but to no avail. “I can’t reach!”

Rainbow didn’t respond. Maybe she hadn’t heard her.

“I can’t reach!”

Rainbow swung her hooves now, taking wild swipes at Fluttershy’s arm. “Dammit!”

The uneven jittering affected her stability, and Rainbow began to wobble in her flight. Yet she continued to ignore it, grappling at the crippled pegasus with her hooves even as the dangerous air currents threatened to rip her out of the sky.

Watching her friend exhaust herself against the wind, Fluttershy gasped. She can’t fly fast enough.

As if to seal her fate, one errant gust of wind slammed into Rainbow’s chest and flung her away despite her best efforts. Rainbow tumbled and see-sawed off into the sky, away from Fluttershy. In those split seconds before Fluttershy lost all hope, their eyes connected for a fleeting moment.

An entire lifetime passed between that look. From the look in her eyes, she saw pain, frustration and anger; she saw Cloudsdale, Flight Camp and a certain unicorn. In those eyes she saw a rage against the cruel fate that awaited her on the ground, and she knew that Dash would do anything, everything, to reach out and pull her back from the void.

But she couldn’t.

Fluttershy gave a solemn nod. “It’s ok.” She could see Rainbow mouth a shocked ‘no.’

The moment past just as quickly as it had come, and Rainbow tumbled away into obscurity.

Fluttershy didn’t utter a word. She fell in silence in her solitary plummet to the ground below, only hoping that someone would be there to look after her friends.

Meanwhile the world spun faster and faster, screaming an ever higher pitch into her ears, clawing at her brain . . .

. . .

POOF.

And then silence. An eternity might have slipped by, and Fluttershy wouldn't have noticed. Where am I? Wherever she was, the only thing for certain was that it was soft. Very soft, like her bed back home. The familiar feeling came back, tickling the back of her mind. This was all very familiar.

Am I dead?

Then, an answer came from the darkness.

ARE YOU OKAY.

Well, okay, maybe not the answer she was looking for. Princess Celestia? Does she greet you in the afterlife? Why does she sound upset?

TALK TO ME.

You don’t sound like Princess Celestia. She has much gentler voice. You remind me of a friend of mine . . .

“F-Fluttershy, p-please.”

The pegasus snapped her eyes open, and saw Rainbow leaning over her, analyzing every feature of her face with panicked eyes.

Rainbow’s lips moved, but Fluttershy couldn’t hear her. Turning her head to the side, she saw the lightest hue of white blurring the edge of her vision. She sat up, brushing Rainbow away from her hooves, and looked around. The same cloud she had passed by earlier when following Rainbow lay beneath her; it must have caught her. She didn’t feel very lucky.

Ponyville sat farther below her anchor in the sky, still far away.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.”

Fluttershy turned around, and saw Rainbow clutching her stomach, bloodshot eyes staring into the cloud as she rocked back and forth. She extended a hoof and touched her shoulder.

“Rainbow?”

“I couldn’t catch you.”

“I’m fine. Rainbow? Rainbow look at me.”

“FLUTTERSHY I ALMOST GOT YOU KILLED.”

“Rainbow look at me, please?”

Rainbow’s head swiveled toward her, her magenta eyes a bloody red mixture of fear, shame and nerves.

Fluttershy took a big breath. “I’m fine.”

“. . . You sure?”

“Yes.”

“. . .”

“. . . Don't tell Twilight.”

"What?"

“Don't tell Twi. Please.”

And with that, Rainbow bolted off, leaving behind a barren sky and a bewildered pegasus.

“She later told me that she hasn’t practiced her flying in months,” Fluttershy concluded.

Twilight gulped back a lump.“So?”

Applejack’s jaw dropped. “So? Your marefriend almost gets Fluttershy killed and that’s all ya got to say? Hun, are ya hearing yourself? Look sugar, I know Dash—”

“And I don't?”

“I wasn’t saying that. What I meant was that I’ve been with Dash for years. That girl’s always practicing for her chance at the big time. She wouldn’t give up the Wonderbolts for anything, or anyone for that matter.”

Fluttershy risked a step forward. “Aren’t you worried that she hasn’t been practicing?”

Twilight fidgeted. “Well, no. Yes. I haven’t . . . I don’t know. She never told me.”

Fluttershy looked as if she was going to say something, but hesitated. The pegasus sought comfort in the farmer’s eyes, who nodded. “It’s something we, all of us, have been noticing for awhile. She hasn’t been acting herself lately,” Applejack said.

The lump in her throat returned, clogging Twilight’s windpipe and forcing a nervous chortle out of her.“What do you mean?”

“She’s no longer practicing her flying, almost got our friend killed,” Applejack started pacing across the living room, “and putting this poor feller in danger?” she said, nodding towards Tank.

“Oh no, tortoises can actually go months without eating. He just needs some rest, that’s all,” Fluttershy added.

“Regardless, something doesn’t add up. You’ve got to admit it Twi.”

The unicorn shambled over to the window and sat down, clutching her head with her hooves. Forgetting Tank was one thing, but now this? How far did the rabbit hole go? The room seemed to shrink, and thinking hurt. Fluttershy’s story swirled around her, absorbing every thought. She almost didn’t hear Applejack’s next statement.

“We’re worried about her Twilight.”

“Me too.”

“What was that sugarcube?”

“Me too,” Twilight repeated, looking out the window.

Out there, just beyond the horizon, a blue pegasus carved out a unicorn shaped figure amongst the clouds.

Prologue: Promontory

WHERE THE GENTLE WING RESTS

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun,

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

- Robert Frost

Prologue: Promontory

The seconds lasted forever.

“Twilight.”

Higher, higher, up, up, up oh Celestia too high please stop Dash, no don’t do that, stop Dash,

please stop. STOP.

“Twi.”

Stomach churning, spinning and more spinning, nausea and then blackness, forever blackness, safe here, dark murky abyss but it feels so good. Turning now, turning, grasp harder, not safe, push, push, PUSH. Oh Celestia I am going to die.

“Twilight!”

Twilight snapped her eyes wide open and strained to keep them focused. The wind slammed fist after fist into her shaky eyeballs, jerking tears from her eyelids. She tightened her grip on Rainbow, and weathered out the hurricane trying to scrape her off the pegasus’s back. Everywhere she looked she saw nothing but blue; the midday sun was anchored somewhere above them. The golden orb was swallowed whole by the expanse that surrounded them on all sides. Down below-

She slammed her eyes closed. They were who-knows how many miles above the ground and looking down was NOT a good idea.

Dash laughed out something muffled and unintelligible; the message was garbled by the screaming tempest.

Twilight risked a peek. “What!” she flung back into the gale. Her vocal chords scorched with the effort.

Dash threw the shout again, and this time she managed to catch a whiff of the message.

Your mane looks like cotton candy.

Twilight scowled. Who CARES what my mane looks like?! The ever-present risk of falling to her death was far more concerning. She crammed her vision to the sides of her eye sockets and sought a glimpse of her mane. A tattered, purple glob flapped in and out of sight, and Twilight made a mental note to perform the funeral rites. Not even Rarity's ‘emergency cosmetic resuscitation’ procedures were capable of miracles.

And the wind wasn't done with her yet.

The gale flattened her ears and buckled her skin. Ripples swept throughout her flesh where the cyclonic sledgehammer pulverized her again and again. She gasped and caught a mouthful of the icy currents which threatened to tear the lips off her face. She burrowed her face back into Rainbow’s coat, seeking some form of refuge. The wonders of flight were magical and all, but she didn’t mind missing out and her stinging face agreed.

A sharp shoulder blade nudged her chin, stealing her attention back to her marefriend. Rainbow was watching her over her shoulder, waiting for a response. Twilight shook her head, unsure of what was expected of her.

Dash tossed her a smirk and gestured downwards with a side movement of her head, and Twilight followed her gaze.

The earth far below them zipped past, stuck forever on fast forward. The endless patchwork greens and browns of the farms melted together with the canopies of the forests, the earthen colors occasionally streaked with the wooden and metallic flashes of towns and cities. Ponyville was a smear of rooftops collected around the towering spire that could only be the town hall.

Realizing what Rainbow meant, she locked eyes with her and flurried her head in a nod. Rainbow plunged and they left the sun behind.

A sharp whistle accompanied the sharp contrails marking their descent through the sky. Twilight’s eardrums had had enough; they shattered. Vertigo shook her vision as the pair cut their way through the iron sky on their long descent back to Ponyville. A patch of crimson roofs clashed with a field of green as the many cottages of the town rolled into view.

But Twilight was blind to the scenery.

Her mind wandered elsewhere, lost in the depths of her own private world. The crest of a fierce, passionate wave rose to meet her, and she threw herself under it. The powerful drug flung her into a whirlpool of frolic fervor. Round and round she spun, Rainbow Dash opposite her, as her heart sped out of control. Caution was cast aside, useless, lost in the rush. It didn’t matter if it was ever found or not.

A year’s worth of spilled tears, sunken heartbreak, and crushing solitude crumbled and cascaded into chalk. Joy trampled underfoot the pain, and left nothing where misery had once stood.

The wind swept the ashes before her.

The wind . . .

The wind loosened its relentless howl, and Twilight glided back into the present. She clung to Rainbow in a desperate bid for dear life as the latter extended her wings. Powerful gusts of wind collided in their undercarriage and Twilight’s teeth rattled to pieces.

A hill situated at the edge of the Whitetail pines drew closer; the mound of earth overlooked the town amidst rolling carpets of grass. Dash ground to a halt mere feet atop the crest of the hill, and the ground came into sharp focus.

Twilight gazed out at the whole world that reflected off her lavender irises. Her eyes drank in the sights and sounds.

Lilacs and grass blanketed the soil as ladybugs took flight and traced lazy arcs in the air; the scenery was colored green as far as the eye could see. Tufts of wind combed the grass, stripping dandelions of their seeds. The sky was planted with streaks of white as they took flight.

Gilded pollens drifted by, their mellow tones matched by the golden rays the sun cast down upon the earth. The light illuminated the trees, plant life, and seedlings for the chorus of birds that filled the world.

Spring was in full swing; the ground beckoned.

Rainbow's wings worked their way down to a steady tempo, and gravity began to overtake them, pulling them back towards the soil.

A gentle thud vibrated its way up to Twilight; they stood once again on solid ground. She raised a shaky leg and attempted to dismount Dash. Halfway through a wave of vertigo rattled her, and she tumbled. The grass swarmed her vision as the ground rushed up to greet her face.

Slam.

Her nose pulsed a steady throb, and her eyes were caked with thick soil. Her ears reported someone above her wheezing with laughter. She cracked open an eye through the dusty film and peered at the shameless individual.

Rainbow was doubled over, her voice shattering into giggles.

Twilight anchored her hooves into the grass, scowling. Her legs quivered with the effort. She shot Rainbow an irritated look, one that the pegasus noticed.

Dash glanced left and right. “Well hey don't look at me, it was your idea to go up there.”

“You could at least lend a hoof! I mean look at me.” Twilight teetered on unstable legs, her head close to the ground for comfort. Earthquakes rippled through her body, testing her foundations. She shook off the last of the adrenaline burning out in her system.

She intensified her glower. It helped keep her mind off her physical appearance. I look like a wildebeest. Fresh out of the savanna after a century of recluse.

She wasn’t kidding. Her mane hung in tattered ruins, blasted apart during their little joy ride. The dirt coated snout did little to improve her appearance, the addition of which upgraded her to an erstwhile clown who had seen better days. A marked improvement from a wandering wild animal.

Rainbow huffed on her hoof and polished her coat. “Yeah, I tend to have that effect on others.”

Twilight arched her eyebrows. That line was so cheesy she could taste the cheddar flowing from Dash's mouth.

“Oh yeah? You must have dozens of kills under your belt then.” The vertigo had dissipated a little; at least the ground wasn’t spinning anymore.

Rainbow shrugged. “What can I say? Its not my fault these looks are lethal.”

A sharp sting struck her nose as Rainbow turned and her tail flicked into the unicorn’s snout. Golden sweat ran in trickles over her athletic curves, glistened by the sunlight. A breeze rolled by and picked up loose strands of her hair, splitting her mane into a prismatic glow.

Twilight remained unimpressed.

“Then why am I still standing?”

Rainbow cast an amused glance over her, a wicked grin sharpening her mouth. She brushed aside clumps of grass as she paced towards her unicorn target, hooves bent low to the ground. Classic predatory tactics, stalking prey amidst dense tropical foliage. Rainbow must have been reading her reference guides on savannahs.

“Maybe it’s because I haven't decided if you’re worth the effort. Eggheads aren’t really my type, you know?”

Twilight snapped a hoof to her chest in mock surprise. Oh she did know. “Really? Because If I recall it wasyou who approached me first.”

Rainbow stood, her face struck with alarm. Her cover was blown, and she scrambled to find a comeback.

“Oh yeah? Well . . . I rejected you! I wasn’t always crazy about you.”

Twilight's flashed a triumphant smirk. She loved these little games they played. Her horn glowed as she sneaked a tendril of magic around Rainbow's hooves.

“Proved you wrong didn't I?”

She jerked the glowing lasso, sending an unsuspecting Dash crashing to the ground. The earth rumbled as the mighty oak collapsed with a thunderous roar. She dug a trail through the meadow as she dragged Rainbow under her own form, until the unicorn loomed over her squirming feathered captive.

Rainbow hooves stilled, and her eyes expanded until two luminous magenta disks stared up at her captor. Rainbow Dash never admitted defeat, and Twilight was all too aware that this was a precious moment.

Twilight's lips lowered towards Dash; her hot breath collided against the pegasus’s mouth in steamy puffs. Words huffed out of her mouth, and the gentle breeze dispersed them into the hill.

“Face it Dashie, this egghead captured you.”

The statement carried a hidden irony, tucked away in a night Dash would never recall. Too bad Rainbow would never realize the full extent of what she had meant. Some things were best left that way. She swallowed a knowing smile.

Rainbow’s eyes, meanwhile, flashed in irritation. “Oh for Luna's sake!”

How Rainbow could find Twilight attractive given her grotesque appearance was anyone’s guess. She surged upwards and ensnared her in a kiss, dirty nose and all. Twilight wasn’t complaining. The tables had turned on the unicorn, and the huntress became the prey as Rainbow dragged her down into a nest of feral affection.

It was by no means the first kiss, that hallmark in time having taken place a few weeks ago. Since then there had been many like it, and Twilight at first had kept a log, documenting each kiss in a catalog of rare, precious finds. She had stopped after the first fifty-two or so. If she had kept it up any longer, Ponyville would have been sucked dry of quills and ink.

The useless jabber of her technical mind faded away; she chose instead to listen to the fascinating arguments that Rainbow's tongue presented a mouth's distance away.

Rainbow shoved more of her tongue into the unicorns mouth, deepening the embrace. Twilight arched her back in deep surrender as Rainbow scooped her up and lowered her closer to the earth. The swaying vegetation tickled her ears as her head hovered above the soil, her frame held aloft by the gentle touch of the pegasus.

Twilight lifted her eyelids, and found a pair of magenta colored ones fixed unto hers with a hawk-like focus. They dove into the the deep, lavender pool of her eyes, plunging down to her core and igniting a spark she hoped would never burn out. A heat glowed inside her that challenged the sun for supremacy.

The symphonic No. 9 blared to life in her ears. Her body resonated with the deep tones, and her spirit soared to new heights with each octave. The magical music reached its climax as her legs gave out, and Dash, not able to cope with the added weight, tumbled with her to the ground amidst the chorus of violins and horns trumpeting to new heights and expending their energy in one final eruption.

They broke the kiss.

First came the sounds of panting, the two winded after their brief exercise in breath control. For the briefest of moments, silence rushed to fill the void left by the gasps; right before jovial laughter rolled down the hill and filled the trees with the special kind of spirit that Spring bears witness to.

The rest of the afternoon lounged past as they rolled amongst the grass and the hills, sticking close to the ground. Flying could wait for another day.

As the evening drew closer, they made their way back into town. They treaded the age-old trail that meandered through the trees of the Whitetail forest, and chatted away against the backdrop of the sun sinking into the earth.

The final beams of light touched down on the horizon and vanished into the night as they stepped into the Library, wasting no time in climbing the stairs into Twilight's bedroom. Together they poised at the edge of her bed, grinning stupidly at each other before back flipping onto the sheets. Their combined laughter rocked the bed.

Dash's reckless nature ensured that a pillow fight was soon underway. The sounds of battle were no doubt going to illicit a few huffy complaints from the napping dragon downstairs in the morning.

They didn’t care.

They relished the moment, and as Twilight lay in bed later that night, watching her marefriend's chest rise and fall with each breath, she thought back to that evening several weeks ago. It was amazing, what desperation could drive someone to do.

Everything could have gone wrong that night.

Cold light filtered through the lone window in the room. The moonlight illuminated Rainbow's features and cast a gleam upon her face. Her mane cascaded in rivers over her eyes and ears, spilling onto the bedsheets. The smile that tugged at her dormant lips shone in the darkness.

It had been worth it, all of it, even if she had been forced to bend the rules and commit acts others would be quick to denounce. It didn't matter what those miserable creatures thought, they would never uncover this joy she had unearthed.

She would sacrifice the moon and stars, and cast the world into darkness if it meant one more heartbeat spent beside Dash.

It was for the best.

Yes, she mused.

It was going to be a wonderful life.