Learning to Soar

Spitfire ran her hoof through her fiery mane in agitation. She paced around the small proximity of the cloud underneath her feet, struggling to keep an iron grip on her senses.

It had been two whole months since Rainbow Dash’s plunge. The memory of it blazed into her skull, every detail down in perfect precision; from the uneasy expression on the other pegasus’ face, to the blue feather that remained rooted to the spot she’d previously stood before plummeting into the unknown depths below. Coach went after her, only to come back empty-handed with a rigid icy cold expression.  It had nearly paralyzed her at how brusquely he brushed off the loss, as if one little pegasus didn’t matter. He’d just arrogantly galvanized the students into continuing the test without the lost pony.

From what Spitfire later learned about that filly, Rainbow Dash had no parents—no guardians, no aunts, no uncles. An orphan left to die in the harsh world singlehandedly.

How could she have let something like that happen? Spitfire stared pensively at the lone blue feather on her hoof with regret. To anypony else outside of the flight academy, that dirty, ragged feather sitting on the end of her hoof meant nothing. The deterioration caused to it in the relentless continuation of time didn’t denote a single thing to any common pony’s eye. A figment of the past; that’s what it was—just a tiny piece of that coarse day for Spitfire to carry on in perpetuity.

Nonetheless, she refused to see the truth. Rainbow Dash wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead. No, that glint of determination in those magenta eyes of hers couldn’t have let the orphan pass away that easily. Notnow, not yet.

 Spitfire forcefully unclenched her jaw and let out a half-hearted laugh. For heaven’s sake, she was just deluding herself. All the pony could do was hope Rainbow’s death was quick and painless. She stomped her hoof angrily. Pacing around all day didn’t seem to help improve her mood at all.

“Spitfire—“ Her head snapped up in the direction the sudden voice came from. “—A-are you here for Rainbow Dash too?”

Fluttershy, standing on the cloud behind her, appeared as startled as the pegasus facing her when Spitfire’s analyzing eyes came to rest on her delicate frame. The quiver in her lips told Spitfire enough—Fluttershy was suffering as much as her, if not more. It was she who stood by Rainbow Dash, not her.

Spitfire had merely raced insufferably ahead of the crowd of students, only hanging out with the best, being as inattentive to everypony else with only the intent of growing stronger and stronger than everypony. In short, Spitfire was completely and utterly oblivious to the supposedly-deceased pegasus’ dire need of help. She had to hand it to her; Rainbow Dash hid it well.

Unresponsive, the fiery-maned pony turned away guiltily, unable to hold Fluttershy’s pitying eyes, and instead focused her gaze on her unfamiliar surroundings, drinking in the sights leisurely.

In her fit of sulking, Spitfire had failed to notice her cloud being carried away by the rogue gusts of wind, coiling and twisting around the platform she walked upon. She found herself drifting closer and closer to a giant multicolored fountain of liquid rainbows. Almost gloomily, that home probably represented unending happiness at one point. Now, it was just a desolate place of death. Upon closer inspection, Spitfire could faintly make out wilted potted plants sitting on a windowsill in a neat row, crumpled downcast by the brutal force of gravity and lack of turgor pressure. They’d died quite some time ago, if her judgment was correct. Their care seemed to have already been tossed aside long before Rainbow Dash’s death.

“’If my parents can’t live, why should they?’” Spitfire mumbled aloud before she managed to catch herself. Rainbow Dash’s reason for leaving the plants to wither probably was somewhat more practical like purely being lazy or too anguished to want to do anything. The garbage Spitfire had spewed on a whim probably did not hold any meaning to the blunt pony anyway. Or so she thought.

She felt Fluttershy’s curious look boring a hole in her back and shrugged it off, not deeming it worthy of any altercation. The shy pony made no attempt to confront her about the comment, however, awkwardly keeping her head pointed in another direction.

A long and uncomfortable respite passed between them before Fluttershy decided to speak up, motioning at the rainbow fountain. “This is—“

Spitfire interrupted quickly, much to her dismay. “—Rainbow Dash’s home. I can tell, y’know. Something about the rainbows gave it away.” She chuckled darkly at the joke. “Nice decorations.”

On the front steps leading to the entrance, Spitfire noticed little gifts dedicated to the cyan pegasus—a pie, a few multicolored flowers, picture frames, pieces of foreign cloth—most of which appeared to be from the students at the academy. A workhat pressed between a cement step and a bouquet of golden daisies stood out among the other presents, mainly because of its bright yellow shade.

Spitfire’s face softened as she thought back to the month before, when Coach’s favorite hat was nowhere to be found, never to reappear on his head again. He hadn’t said a word regarding where it had disappeared or why, nor did he comment when confronted by his bolder students about it. Who would have known that old stallion had a softer side to him?

Spitfire certainly hadn’t. She pulled the dirt-encrusted blue feather from her fiery mane and tenderly stroked it with her free hoof. Then, carefully placing it atop the hardhat, she didn’t take her eyes off the strikingly familiar yellow object as she said in a low voice, “Coach likes to keep his affection to himself, doesn’t he?”

Fluttershy touched the bouquet of flowers beside the hardhat hesitantly.  “I-I think so—um, that is, if you’re okay with it.” The wind began to pick up, tossing her pink tufts of hair wildly and wedged itself over her face, discreetly covering her visage and gave her a clever excuse not to meet Spitfire’s probing gaze. “Dash would have loved meeting you...um, personally.”

The sudden change of subject sent a jolt of deadly surprise Spitfire’s way. “I have met her.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” Fluttershy tried not to flinch at her own impulsive outburst.

Spitfire recoiled. What exactly did she mean, then?

No response. This gave Spitfire some time to think to herself, contemplating what the hay she was supposed to do, now that an academy student was allegedly dead.

Her thoughts gradually drifted in the direction of action, from what she was going to do to what would eventually happen. If she stayed, her life would end up normal and continue on wondering if Rainbow Dash was okay and being well cared for. On the other hand, if she went, her life would erratically change; blissful ignorance to knowing the harsh life of the ponies below.

Her second option jumped out at her, plaguing her mind with all the thoughts of both a bad and good ending. She thoroughly weighed her options. Everything boiled down to whether she would or wouldn’t leave depending on the events that would soon be set in motion.

A few minutes ticked by before Spitfire turned away arrantly and unhurriedly jogged off, extending her wings and taking off to the flowing gales of the winding drafts ahead, much to the shy pony’s astonishment.

It was almost cruel, leaving Fluttershy alone like that. Then again, she wasn’t about to turn back, Spitfire thought, her mind burning in temptation—her already-made decision was tucked away warm and cozily right in her chest cavities. Spitfire’s original intent was to pay her respects and leave. Now, however, her purpose had changed—for better, she liked to think. Thanks, Fluttershy.

She didn’t even look back when Fluttershy whisper-shouted, “Wait! Wh-where are you going?”

“To meet her.”

                                                       .........................................................

Rainbow Dash bit into the apple boisterously. Delicious.

She currently was hidden stealthily in the shadows of the apple tree behind her, the wind whistling gently in her ears. The pegasus couldn’t help reaching down and plucking an apple from the ground hungrily. Living in Sweet Apple Acres for two months had surprisingly failed to make her sick of apples. In fact, it might have even made Dash appreciate apples even more, taking into consideration the affectionate company that came with the scrumptious apple-based meals.

“How long do you reckon you’re stayin’ there, RD?” Applejack called out, her voice resounding in the area close by.

Said pony swallowed fitfully and tried not to choke on the giant chunk of apple going down her gullet. When she finally made progress in forcing the food down, Rainbow Dash managed a daunting smirk. “How long do you think you’ll spend looking for me?” She teasingly replied.  Hide-and-Seek was the best, especially to the sneakiness that came in the form of a blue pegasus.

She snaked straight past the sound of slow clopping echoing against the surrounding trees, well aware of the danger she placed herself in. Applejack’s eyes were as sharp as every other one of her senses. But, Rainbow Dash realized soon after, her senses didn’t work so well when provoked. The smirk spread wider across her complexion. She had to admit, though, Applejack’s slightly-reddened face—whether it was from embarrassment, anger, or a mix of both, Rainbow hadn’t the slightest clue—was kind of adorable...in the most non-creepy way possible, of course.

“Adorable?” The earth pony appeared next to her, apparently out of nowhere. In the previously-quiet darkness, Rainbow Dash could make out a reddish tint on Applejack’s features. She still couldn’t be sure if it was fury or discomfit showing on her partner’s countenance, but she did know one thing for certain—Rainbow Dash’s face most certainly harbored a blush.

She’d said that aloud? “Oh...err...adorably angry, I mean.” Smooth, you just made things twenty percent worse. The pegasus resisted the urge to thump her noggin against the tree shaft behind her.

Applejack turned away, clearing her throat. “I found you, by the way.”

Pushing aside her embarrassment, Rainbow Dash flippantly glowered at this and gritted her teeth. “Hey! I was caught off-guard!”

She didn’t want to admit it, but despite the sturdy way Applejack handled herself, the farmpony had notoriously silent hooves. It was only when motivated did her hoofsteps become louder with each thump of a leg. That included walking normally, too; her stomps only a soft brunt to the earth below. The simple movement was so smooth and natural that Rainbow Dash had wanted to ask her how she learned to keep on her toes in such a manner. She didn’t expect a jovial answer, so her mouth had sensibly stayed shut.

“That’s what sore losers say.” Applejack cheerfully slipped back into their lighthearted bantering.

“I’m not a sore loser!”

Now that Rainbow Dash was fully healed (or so the doctors said), she was free to do whatever neck-breaking activity she desired. There always seemed to be a contest of who was better at doing trivial things—racing, cleaning dishes, pie-making—everything would just be set on the line in the drop of a bucket if one of the two fillies so much as suggested a challenge. That was the roundabout way of enjoying the other’s company.

They had their days of sitting at dusk or dawn, relaxing against themselves and drinking a mug of whatever liquid they deemed worthy of the moment. Those were the days when time stopped, as if it was saying “Here’s your tiny moment of peace. Don’t let it go to waste.” Applejack and Rainbow Dash hadn’t had days like that ever since the untimely deaths of their parents. Oddly enough, they hadn’t ever spent any words talking with no references to their pasts at all. It was like an invisible mutual bond was binding them together, knowingly or not.

And they relished the peace reigning in their hearts.

“Not a sore loser?” Applejack’s eyes glittered as she clasped Rainbow Dash on her shoulder. “Prove it.” Letting go of the tense tone she carried, the farmpony thoughtfully tapped her chin with a playful smile. “Let’s head back. I’m gettin’ mighty hungry.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. It. Was. On.  “Yeah. Me too.”

Rainbow Dash took no time in shooting forward, the wind battering against her mane in the process. Applejack, starting a second too late, followed closely behind. The pegasus risked a few moments to glance behind her and shouted a few taunts. “Still think I’m a sore loser?”

“If you aren’t a sore loser, you’re a sore winner!” Applejack taunted back. She took this opportunity to widen her strides fervently.

Seeing Applejack hasten her pace, Rainbow Dash did the same. It wasn’t long before they were neck-and-neck. Not one of the two ponies wanted to let up—not to the growing soreness in their legs, not to the wind trying to choke the air out of their lungs, and certainly not to the other filly running next to them. Both were determined to be crowned the victor, fair and square.

Dashing through the apple groves, the blur of blue and orange began melding together in a confusing array of colors. Fleet feet, those two had. Breathing in the fresh air, Rainbow Dash managed to deal with dodging the apple trees as she went, huffing every time she had a close encounter with a hard-as-rock trunk. The pegasus could have sworn Applejack was manipulating the trees into getting in her way, with the manner the farmpony smoothly swiveled in and out, as if knowing beforehand where each spiteful tree would be. Her knowing smirk told more than enough.

To their mix of dismay and delight, the mad dash to the farmhouse ended with a draw, immediately ending with the two fillies crumpling onto the farmhouse’s soil like pieces of slack paper.

Panting wildly, Rainbow Dash grinned, her chest rising and falling rapidly against the damp earth beneath her. She rolled over and met her friend’s eye. “Nopony wins.”

Sprawled on the ground next to her, Applejack nodded and returned the smile, her lips stretching all the way to the edges of her exhausted face. It was quite the run. “Yep. Let’s wash up ‘fore Granny Smith decides to come out an’ lecture us a storm.”

Rainbow Dash let out a soft sigh, settling into a more comfortable position. “If she’s the storm, I’m the clouds.” Clouds were nice—lazy, disobedient, and free—just like her. Not to mention the softness of the fluffy cotton balls. When would she ever be able to show Applejack exactly how feathery the clouds were? She idly cracked an eye open. “Just let me rest here for two more years,” she mumbled through her weather-beaten hooves.

“Come on, Rainbow Cloud.” Applejack staggered to her feet and held out a weary arm to her companion. “I’m just as tired as you, ya know.”

The pegasus accepted conscientiously, gripping tightly onto Applejack’s hoof and dragged herself up. Her lips curled a bit as a humorous notion suddenly occurred to her. “And you’re Lightningjack—you won’t ever give a cloud a break.”

 “Maybe,” Applejack mumbled absently, starting a slow trot toward the waterhose. It was her job to point Rainbow Dash to where she was supposed to be. Admittedly, she too had wanted to lie down and go to sleep herself, except there was something about the laziness her friend sported that made her strive to work harder in ensuring the health and wellbeing of the accident-prone pony.

The name Lightning felt a little awry to her, she thought as the darkened sky began to rumble incongruously, like it was accusing her of the double-edged lie she told back there. She was tired, yes, but she’d also glimpsed the bright flash of lightning while looking for her friend during their game of Hide-and-Seek. Pa had once warned her not to play near any trees while a storm was brewing, which was why she hastily wanted to get out into the clearing. Besides, it was kind of awkward, overhearing Rainbow Dash’s sudden remark about her flushed face. A loud boom erupted overhead.

That jarred her back to reality. “A thunderstorm’s comin’,” she noted over the sound of clean water being splashed onto her coat.

Rainbow Dash spat out the hose when she’d made sure Applejack was spotless. “Cool. Does that mean we’ll get to see lightning in action?”

Applejack hesitated, casting an uncertain glance at the likewise clean pony standing a mere few inches away. Were pegasi always this lenient about storms? She supposed they never had to worry about flooding and such, living untroubled atop the great big clouds that rained only upon the unflying ponies. “Y-yeah, I guess,” she answered.

Rainbow Dash’s cheery face sobered as she examined Applejack’s facial expression. “Something wrong?” A streak of lightning tore across the sky behind the farmpony, attracting Rainbow Dash’s attention as her eyes drifted to the sky.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Applejack tremble, drawing in a sharp breath. Carefully making sure it seemed like she wasn’t paying attention, Rainbow Dash watched as the farmpony wiped away her tears and sniffled. “No. Just some bad memories.”

Bad memories? Rainbow Dash decided not to pry. It might’ve had something to do with her mother, after hearing Applejack murmur “Ma” under her breath just then. Better to ask later, perhaps before heading off to bed. They shared the same room, after all. The pegasus had a feeling the story she would soon be hearing wouldn’t help her already-fitful dreams much.

Still, burdens were better when shared, no matter how hypocritical that sounded to Rainbow Dash. Applejack deserved to know what had befallen her parents, what with all of the kindness and tender care she’d exerted the past two months—but not now. First, she decided, she would learn about the events that had troubled Applejack.

Rainbow Dash’s jaw became set.

                                                       .........................................................

“Coach,” Spitfire reasoned, “Don’t you think you should send some sort of locating ponies down there to look for Rainbow?”

“It’s a lost cause.” She waited impatiently as Coach paused to scribble something on his worn out clipboard with a lack of interest. Grunting, he looked back down at her. “Rainbow Dart—“

“Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire corrected him offhandedly, narrowing her eyes a bit. He should have already known her name, him being the stallion with the all-knowing clipboard and all. Unless he was pretending to be stupid, that is. Did he already send help when nopony was looking?

 Maybe, if the rusty yellow workhat isolated on the front steps of Rainbow Dash’s home told her anything.

“—would have already died in the impact.”

Spitfire stamped her foot. Despite the fact that no sound came from the soft cloud, Coach seemed to get the impression she was making, pointedly moving his clipboard to his side and shifting his frosty attention in her direction. The academy students close by deliberately had their faces the other way, but Spitfire knew they were clinging to every word being spoken.

Spitfire growled. "Look here, Coach. I know for a fact that Rainbow isn't dead." She pointed her hoof at a lone yellow pegasus hanging in the far corner of the crowd, slightly leaning away from the other ponies like an outcast, not quite fitting in and not quite out of place. "Fluttershy over there has been crying her eyes out over her friend, and I won't stand for crying ponies! I know Rainbow Dash must have survived somehow!"

That was a lie and she knew it. She was as unsure of Rainbow’s fate as Coach himself was.

Coach breathed in heavily, sensing the troubled tone mixed in with the anger at the bitter truth in her voice. “Is any of this your business, Spitfire? You know as well as I do that Rainbow Dash had no other acquaintances other than Fluttershy and her deceased parents.” His steady eye remained glued to her, fixedly observing the look of surprise on her face. “Why exactly are you intruding in on Rainbow Dash’s life now of all times?”

Finally, Spitfire frowned. “I told you already, didn’t I? I won’t stand for crying ponies.”

“But there’s another reason, is there not?” Coach’s cold demeanor melted as he said, in a softer voice, inclining his head toward her, “You feel guilty.” The nearby students had to lean closer and strain their ears to make out his next words. “As do I.”

“Huh?”

Before Spitfire could say anything else, Coach sharply spun the other way and shot the eavesdropping party a glare. Their response was to take a step back and shiftily look the other way. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“But—“

“Listen to what I said,” Coach sighed, wringing his hooves. “Don’t feel guilty. Let it pass and don’t make any hasty decisions unless you have to.”

So he knew what her plan was. “I won’t change what I’ve already decided.”

“Alright then.” His expression remained unchanged.

No sort of restrictions? It was almost too easy to get his authorization to leave. Spitfire was glad she had the forethought to leave a note telling her parents about her “fieldtrip to the ground,” prudently making sure she mentioned it would be a while before her return. Spitfire felt a shiver go through her. “Why are you letting me do this?”

“I know you’ll return safely, pegasus slung over your back or not.” Coach’s hopeful gaze wavered. “I can’t go myself—the academy has standards to live up to, and you’ve shown more than enough promise in your skills of flying.” His slight frown deepened. “And it isn’t as if I can stop you. I can’t promise you that you aren’t leaving your life up here.”

“Don’t worry. I left a note.”

“If you need a ride back, send for a horse-drawn carriage. Tell them Manerick sent you.” He paused. “Are you sure there aren’t any doubts to what you are about to do?”’

Spitfire shook her head. “No.”

“And remember, if you don’t come back soon, you’re considered dead.”

And with that oh-so-happy thought, she leaped.

                                                       .........................................................

“Wait!” Coach nonchalantly glanced in the general direction the sudden outburst came from. Soarin’, crouching by his cloud, stared downwards into the blue skies below where his close friend had jumped. “Why did you let her go?!”

“Nopony could’ve stopped her,” Coach simply said.

And it was true. The fiery intent in her eyes had told him just that.  Yes, he was reluctant to let loose a young filly out into the harsh world beneath, but he had realized the inevitable while staring into the face of the determined youth: With or without his consent, she would dive. So he might as well bestow her some help rather than force back her will.

“But I could’ve!” Soarin’ shouted.

“But did you?” Coach didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to, seeing the sullen expression spreading across Soarin’s’ countenance.

“No.” The colt held his head in shame.

“I thought so.” Coach smiled humorlessly. “Besides, she looked like she was about to slug me.”