Where the Gentle Wing Rests

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.