//------------------------------// // Thirty-Seven // Story: The Moon Also Rises // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// Part Four I cannot See what will happen, when we pass back through the Veil. It blocks Sight, somehow frustrates my perceptions. No matter. I can, however, see outside. I can see the growing Storm, swelling against the bounds we placed upon Him. I do not know how He will be freed; only that it is inevitable. Thirty-Seven RARITY FOLLOWED the masons at a distance. She’d noticed the stoneworkers over the last few days, and yesterday had located a quarry, no more than a half-day away from the fledgling town. So, while Rainbow busied herself with her fellow Stormchasers, learning—what else?—new flight techniques, and therefore more specialised applications of her magic, Rarity had elected to investigate the current goings-on about town. While lots of ponies were still hurriedly building shelters, producing rough cloth, churning up earth for planting and digging trenches for irrigation and . . . other needs, there were a great many who woke early and came back late, all heading out to some as yet unknown project. And, well, she hadn’t the luxury of meeting other Seers, either. None had survived the Storm. She’d found herself sneaking about, ducking behind canvas, moving from one piece of improbably cover to the next, hiding behind vases, and around the sides of buildings whose walls weren’t yet solid, flitting about the town just as others were waking. It was too early to be up, really. Rarity had heard of morning ponies, but she, for one, needed her beauty sleep. Nonetheless, none had objected as she followed the group, trailing behind far enough that perhaps somepony, glancing back to satisfy the tingle on his spine, would miss her. They were moving east, a train of workers and material. Wherever they were going, it wasn’t close to the camp—there would have been much more activity, more evidence. But then, they wouldn’t want to move all the construction, partially completed, the town still growing . . . right? Twilight and Rainbow had told her stories of the old city, beneath the Everfree Forest. Expansive, covered in archaic artwork, architecture—and above, the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. It could not have survived the Storm, therefore, two options: it was farther north still, or it hadn’t been built yet. Rarity didn’t mind the long walk, though. Sure, she could have complained about the dust clinging to her coat, the uneven road chipping her hooves, the wind tousling her mane. All of that was still there, in the back of her mind, a little nagging concern. Strangely, though, she held her tongue, even here, with no fear of being overheard or misconstrued. Instead, she dwelled on the world around her. Grass, as far as the eye could see, fields of flowers, the occasional tree, a medley of green and gold, sparkling under the vibrant sky . . . she could smell salt and honey and fresh pine, even the stone dust marking out her path contained a richness, an earthiness. She could feel the dirt under her hooves, at once yielding and firm. Rarity sucked in a deep breath, chilling her throat and lungs against the warmth of the sun on her skin. Applejack was right, there really was something here. Perhaps not quite as nice as the material comfort of a spa, but she wasn’t petty. She’d take what she could get. The construction was already well underway. Rarity crept up to the ridge of the site, watched workers carting stone to a huge pile by the side, others marking giant blocks, measuring them with lengths of string that required two just to hold in place, a third to carefully annotate a series of ledgers, still others excavating the earth, hauling it out, hollowing the ground. On the far side, she could see a few—including the forepony, presumably—poring over sheets of paper, great stretches of material extending to the ground on either side of their table. At a guess, it would become the Castle itself. Rarity felt her throat swell shut, and she swallowed. She was witnessing history in the making, and not with her Sight, either, but with her eyes. A hoof fell on her shoulder, and she jumped. “An’ what’re you doing up ‘ere?” Rarity jumped, spun, gave an unconvincing smile. “Oh, nothing, really, nothing at all I –umm, I was just . . . seeing how progress was coming.” She was met with a snort. “Y-yes, progress. The Princesses are concerned, you see . . .” “Oh, really.” The pony facing her looked unimpressed. Of course, it was hard enough to read his expression through all the stone-dust clinging to his face, dull grey mixing with dark brown to obscure the more subtle shifts. She could have done something with that, surely, some twist to make it sparkle to life. “Yes, they are. In fact”—dragging her mind to task—“they asked me to check for them, to make sure you lot weren’t just dilly-dallying away the days! Some of us are still living in tents, you know. The nerve of some ponies,” Rarity huffed, turning her head away, “honestly, it beggars belief. And what are you doing here, hmm? Shouldn’t you be working? I shall have to report this, of course.” She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye. “Iff’n they wanted to see, why’dn’t they just fly here themselves, hmm?” “Busy! They’re very busy; as I’m sure you can appreciate.” “Ah, I see.” The stallion gave her an unimpressed look. “Had enough?” Rarity deflated. “Yes, I suppose so.” “Follow me.” He led her across the site, weaving past groups hard at work, occasionally shrugging in response to greetings yelled at him. Rarity received most of the attention, though, naturally. She made a point of coughing into a hoof every so often, pointedly glancing at the clouds of dust obstructing her. And the itch in her throat demanded at least that much, though what she really wanted was to hack until bits of lung came up. He, of course, tramped right through the stuff. The forepony—or so she supposed—had a pencil between his lips, though it went flying away as they approached. “Phewgh! An’ who’s this supposed to be, eh?” “I am Lady Rarity, if you must know.” “Found ‘er sneakin’ around up on the ridge, ser.” At this, the forepony’s eyes narrowed. Straightening his back, he leaned forward, body covering the plans. Rarity flicked her eyes back up, years of poise serving her well. “Ain’t that so. So what’s yer story?” “Why, I was just having a look around. Nothing wrong with a little curiosity, surely.” “Depends,” the forepony said. “I know I ain’t seen you before. Slate?” “No, ser.” “Depends on what?” “Well, then, dearie, I suppose it depends on where you claimin’ to be from.” Rarity felt more than heard the pony at her back shift closer. “See, you ain’t one of us,” the forepony said. He was squinting, now. “Iff’n you came down here from the north, well, we could just report you to the Princess. An’ if you said you hailed from some little village nopony’s ever heard of, swept up in the war . . . ditto for that. But, but, say you snuck in. Say your friends in the Legion sent you. I think there might be something wrong with a little curiosity, then, eh?” “Want me to dispose of her?” Slate asked. Something in the way he said it, casual, a friend doing a small favour, sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant, no, no, surely just an escort, back to the camp, a warning, and an indictment to the Princesses . . . And for something so minor, at that! “No need for that,” the forepony said, waving a hoof. “And she’s a poor spy, anyway. Stick by her, Slate, but let her run around as she likes. We’ll take her to Luna at the end of the day. Moon Above, we’re keeping a pretty poor secret ‘ere anyway.” “You got it.” Both sets of eyes swivelled to stare at Rarity. She glanced back and forth a few times, before, understanding dawning, she leaned forward and tugged at the plans, jerking them from underneath the forepony’s belly. A quick once-over let her know that yes, this was indeed the preliminary design of the old Castle in the Everfree, the foundations rising around her even now, which, in turn, situated her in the middle of the Everfree Forest—before it became the Everfree. Equestrian history didn’t say very much about the origins of that cursed wood . . . and since Equestrian history took on form beyond myth and legend only after Moon’s Fall, that would mean the Everfree’s genesis was soon. Indeed, it was to be rapidly approaching. And, in all probability, tied to events she was only just now beginning to glimpse. She shook her head, chased away speculation and intuition. Pointing at a strange basement, far, far below the castle proper, she quirked her head, lifted an eyebrow. According to Rainbow and Twilight’s experiences, it could house only one thing: a lake, an underground reservoir, and a terminus for the mind-bending waters of the Lethe. The forepony grunted. “Dunno why the Princess insisted on stickin’ that thing in. Waste of time, you ask me. Still, s’just a pit at the moment. See for yourself.” Rarity paused. “Weren’t you worried about secrecy just a moment ago?” “Yeah. An’ if the Princess don’t like what you stick your muzzle into, well, that’ll be on your head. Ain’t no fur off my back.” “Of course,” Rarity said, straightening. “Come on, then, Slate. I don’t intend to dilly-dally here all day, you know.” She seized his shoulder in her magic, and stepped off, dragging him with her. “Aw, cheer up,’ the forepony said, a wicked smile now gracing his lips. “S’gotta be better than digging in the dirt.” Slate’s mournful eyes, retreating, told a different story. Rarity’s turn, now, and instead of the straight line he had drawn for her, she led him all around the site. Each nook and cranny, she wanted to see, every feature explained by her guide in a monotone that had started out as annoying and quickly converged on maddening. Not that she could blame him, really. She’d been the first, of the two of them, to notice the looks he was getting for this—a little jealousy, a little anger, a little amusement. There would be no shortage of ribbing for this escapade, and no mind what the actual events were. Still, a mission was a mission, and Rarity didn’t intend to return to town empty-hoofed. Eventually, they came to the pit the forepony had indicated. Steep, sloping walls of packed dirt gave way to a team of pegasi laboriously tearing up the earth at the bottom, a team of unicorns standing around the edges of the pit, ready to levitate each shovel up and away. This was the place to be used to house the Lake of the Lethe. There certainly seemed to be no other purpose to this—constructed, as it was, well below the foundations of the rest of the Castle, it would be well removed from any place a pony might stumble upon. The issue, then, that Rarity stumbled upon, was this: what was the point? Rarity’s sense of geography had already been hopelessly confused, but for something as large as a Castle, surely, its position would not be subject to whim. If the Everfree was to grow around here, how was the Lethe founded? Was it, too, a construct? A spell, a river created . . . but then, by who? And for what? “Who,” Rarity whispered, more to herself. “I know what you’re thinkin’, Lady.” Slate answered her, startling her out of her reverie. “None o’ us ‘ve been able to wrap our heads around it either.” “What’s this for?” Rarity asked, glancing at him. “Yeah,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Thing is, you’ve got to understand a little something about the Princesses. I wouldn’t go so far as ’ta say they’re removed from us, y’ follow, but they ain’t so close, neither.” Rarity kept her mouth shut, though her insides her dying from laughter, barely restrained. He was just so sincere! “Princess Celestia never seemed to take much o’ an interest in us. Always locked away in her tower, researching somesuch history, or inventing a new spell, just never in the here ‘n now. Whereas her sister, Princess Luna was always on the streets, always with that hard mouth, never a smile or a frown, not from tha’ one. “An’ then the Storm came. You remember the Storm, Lady Rarity?” It took Rarity a second to realise he was waiting for a response. “Y-yes, of course,” she said. Her laughter had died away, now. “See, Princess Luna was the first one to the front lines. The first one to dive into that skyward black sea, an’ the last out. That’s something that sticks with a pony. But Princess Celestia . . .” The silence stretched out. “And Celestia?” Rarity ventured. Slate struck her. Not hard, an open hoof, across the cheek, without malice. Rarity was too shocked to protest, raising a hoof to where she could already feel a bruise forming, mouth hanging open in a silent ‘o’. “Princess Celestia stayed in her tower. Didn’t respond to the throngs outside. Didn’t make a peep. An’ then we found her place empty, deserted . . . she was gone. Just like that. Many o’ us thought she’d abandoned us.” His eyes were shining now, with the fervor of the zealot. “Princess Luna kept us fighting, pushed back er’ry bitter step o’ the way. Everypony could feel the war going against us. Ya couldn’t ignore it, loomin’ up there all dark an’ imposin’. Princess Luna kept us together.” Rarity remembered what came next. It had been seared into her memory, an event so monumentous, so awe-inspiring that she thought she’d remember it till the day she died. “And then Princess Celestia came back,” she said, dropping her hoof from her cheek. “The Princess came back,” Slate said. “Like the Rising Sun itself. An’ she burned back the darkness. Some new magic, I suppose, somethin’ she’d locked herself away researchin’. T’ain’t important. It’s that she came back.” Rarity nodded. “I understand.” “Do ya? ‘Cause it ain’t just that our Princess’s beat back the Storm, Lady. If you was spying, well, I’m taken to thinkin’ Princess Celestia’d have more than a word for ya. And Princess Luna? Hell. She’d just kill you and be done with it.“ Rarity felt a chill. This—this—was what Luna meant, when she’d sent them racing into the past in search of answers. Not the specifics, the details, no; that was unimportant, in the scheme of things. Motivations, guilt, responsibility, that could be sorted out in due course. What mattered, now, were facts. Somewhere in the intervening millennium spent on the moon, Luna had lost the steel that allowed her to kill. Somewhere, some-when, all of Equestria had. Somehow, the Lethe had arisen, found purchase here, in this pit before her. “So, Lady, think twice a’fore you bring back these plans with you,” Slate said. “What happened to the benefit of the doubt?” “Oh, I’m doubting,” Slate said. “But it ain’t up to me. Princess Luna’ll decide what to do with you.” “Which Princess was it, Slate,” Rarity asked. “Who commissioned this?” Slate cocked his head, silently judging, his square jaw rising to click with his upper teeth. “The Goddess of the Sun,” he said, “The Princess Celestia.” *** “So, you’re from the future, hey? Most of us tend to go the other way.” “Our records are . . . imperfect,” Rainbow said. Thankfully, the other Chasers—just three left; Blitz, a pale green stallion from the country, overgrown fetlocks and an unkempt mane catching the wind . . . he had never quite forgiven the Royal Drafters that had taken him away from his family’s farm; his sister, Crisp, yellowed, though Rainbow saw the familial connection in her washed out palette, who, far from stepping into the role of supportive sibling, had embraced the life that came with Coromancy, affecting an air of nobility and power; and Cirrus, matching grey fur with a cloud-white mane, a mare who preferred to squander her—even Rainbow had to admit, after some small time with her, prodigious—talents drinking, gambling, and generally cutting loose with more undesirable elements—didn’t press her on that. The second they left the Stormchasers accommodations, they split up, unwilling or unable to spend any time with each other. And yet, while they were here, there was a natural camaraderie, a muted sense of community, and though there were often pauses, awkward lulls in conversation that were preceded by an offhand comment and an unconscious gesture at an empty wall and followed by heads drooping, eyes swelling, Rainbow had been accepted instantly, and without friction. “Well, it’s certainly effective,” Crisp said. “Though . . . how far you’ve come? I can’t imagine anypony forgetting much these days.” “Heh, yeah,” Rainbow said, scratching the back of her head with a hoof, looking away. “A thousand years, give or take.” Blitz nearly fell from the sky, Crisp stopped where she was, hovering, and watching with an open mouth the others fly past, Cirrus turned to glare at Rainbow. “No way.” “What?” “Not even Cirrus can get much farther than a few weeks,” Crisp said, catching up. “A thousand years . . . I don’t think even the Princess could pull that off.” “Really? Foresight didn’t make a big deal out of it: said most of the energy went into making the jump in the first place, not the distance . . .” Cirrus snorted. “Foresight doesn’t know what he’s talking about. That one’s been pestering Coromancers for years, though he never had much gift for it himself.” “Huh. Well, I am naturally awesome,” Rainbow said, grinning. “That helps, right?” “Sure. Still . . . Moon Above, Rainbow, a thousand years. You’ll forgive us for taking a little bit of time to stomach that number.” “You don’t think I’m lying?” The thought had occurred to her, certainly. If it were such a big deal, such an impossibility . . . wouldn’t that explanation be simplest? Twilight had told her about this . . . Okeer’s . . . Okkamm’s . . . something. But now Crisp was staring at her again, eyes wide. “Lying? Rainbow, you wouldn’t, right?” “Well, no, but . . .” “Surely not,” Blitz said, glancing across at Cirrus. “I think so,” she replied, eyeing Rainbow. “The future seems to be quite the different place.” “We don’t lie,” Blitz explained. “At least, not when it comes to time. Not the smallest fib, not anything. None of us, that is: Seers, Conduits, Chasers, nopony. It’s something of a taboo, I guess.” “Too much potential for harm,” Crisp said. “There are plenty of stories, from back before the Schools were founded, of Seers leading ponies to their doom, o-or Conduits relating Dreams that were just made-up . . . so nowadays, getting caught lying—about this, yes?—isn’t just frowned upon. It’s actually a crime. And, of course, there’s always somepony around to check up on your story. So, no, we don’t lie.” “You aren’t lying, are you?” Cirrus said. “N-no!” With a harrumph, she moved forward a little, peering at the ground. “Well, then. Some other explanation exists, I’m sure, for how a Stormchaser could pull off that kind of feat,” Crisp said. “It wasn’t that bad, really,” Rainbow said. “I mean, I was out for like a month, but apart from that . . .” Blitz laughed at that. “Yeah, no wonder.” “Quiet,” Cirrus said, from a few wingbeats up ahead. “On task.” Just like that, Blitz and Crisp fell silent, moved away from Rainbow just a metre or two, so that all four were flying in a diamond formation. Following their gazes down to the ground below, Rainbow searched the grass, long blades waving in the slight breeze, until—there!—she spotted movement. “What are we looking for?” Rainbow asked. Nopony had quite told her to her face, though she had gleaned that they were scouting, flying routine patrols down south, towards the newly-formed Wastes. Assuming then, that it was nothing more than that, it had seemed to Rainbow to be a perfect opportunity to stretch her wings, spend some time with her fellow Stormchasers—about whom she was still rather curious—and, with a little luck, trade some flight tips. Who knew what tricks these ponies had known? But the intensity with which they now ignored her, the precision and speed with which they formed their formation . . . Rainbow hadn’t seen this type of flying outside of the Wonderbolts. And so yes, part of her was worried. A stronger part, however, was excited. Blitz peeled off, arcing out to the left. Crisp mimicked him on the left. Cirrus, however, dropped abruptly, tucked her chin to her chest, hunched her shoulders, and dove. Straight down, at blazing speeds, she tore through the air until Rainbow could swear she saw the sky begin to bend around her . . . and then, just metres above the ground, Cirrus pulled up, executing a move Rainbow hadn’t even tried to teach to her Wonderbolts, a ninety-degree turn, transferring all that momentum into forward velocity . . . she screamed along the ground, and the grass was blown flat in her wake. A group of ponies, standing still but now struggling to hold their ground against the wind, were revealed: four, five earth ponies, and a unicorn in the lead. Rainbow cocked her head to the side, puzzling. They had clearly been hiding, stalking in the long grass. To what end? Could they be part of the army assembled against the storm, or refugees filtering northwards in the aftermath? Blitz approached as she watched. His flight path had taken him in a great half-circle, losing altitude all the way, so that he now flew at their flank in a shallow dive. The group of earth ponies bent low, stood, clasping a large wooden construct in their hooves. Another appeared to place a rod in it, some two pony-lengths long, and as far across as her hoof. Blitz saw it too, abruptly banking right, and then corkscrewing back left. Rainbow’s wings twinged in sympathy: that manoeuvre would put some serious strain on them. The wooden bolt shot past him, grazing along his flank—not enough to leave any lasting injury, but, as Rainbow immediately understood, more than capable of disintegrating the slipstream that Blitz flew in. The turbulence from its passage would do far more harm than the bolt itself, it didn’t have to hit its target, just pass close by . . . and Blitz tumbled to the ground, impacting hard, skidding towards the group. On the other side, Crisp had already approached, along a vector mirrored against Blitz. But while he engaged the earth ponies, she had come up against the unicorn, and it was all she could do to evade his telekinetic grasp, spinning through the air in a graceful, desperate dance, with a deep blue magic flickering at the edges of her feathers and the end of her tail. Even as Rainbow watched, that tint spread upwards, a creeping threat, each inch of progress spurring yet more desperate efforts . . . she could not outlast the unicorn for long, or even, for that matter, for long. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Cirrus had looped around, tracing a graceful ellipse to come up on the unicorn’s flank. Shooting forward, belly almost grazing the ground, she hurtled straight into the unicorn’s flank. The impact threw him back, tumbling head over tail. Cirrus crashed into the ground herself, her momentum too much to handle. But the damage was done. The unicorn’s horn faded, and his aura winked out entirely. Before he could recover, Crisp was all over him, pinning his limbs to the ground, with a careful eye on his horn. Rainbow made her choice, peeling off to help Blitz. Three of the earth ponies had run out to meet him, the other two remaining back by their weapon. She flew erratically, refraining from the straight path that offered the most speed. Blitz was no slouch when it came to flight, and he had been taken down easily enough. Rainbow wasn’t about to share that fate. So she let her imagination run wild, corkscrewing and banking, executing ninety-degree turns, making double loops and barrel rolls, mixing in flashy stunts with no real purpose and evasive flying she’d picked up from her fellow Chasers, perhaps most notably a variation on the old classic the Buccaneer Blaze—which came to her as an excellent way of blinding those tracking her—all the while moving closer and closer to Blitz’s body. The bolt, when it came, missed her completely, those aiming it still blinking. Still, she had only a vague idea of where he had landed, and the grass was once again standing at full height as Cirrus’s windstorm dissipated. Rainbow poured on the speed now, trusting that she could beat the weapon crew to the ground, and, sweeping the air around her forward. Where Cirrus had shot through, though, Rainbow peeled upwards, looping around to where she thought . . . spotted them, three pinning Blitz down, hooves shielding their eyes, rope already tied tightly around his barrel so that his wings were firmly secured to his sides. Rainbow sped past, staying just out of reach, watching closely. Sure enough, one of them reached out towards her, trusting to his natural strength to win out over Rainbow’s speed. She only needed a trickle of emotion to strengthen her body and, reaching out into the air around her, redirect her momentum. A trick she’d worked out years ago, and used to great effect in many shows: it allowed her to shrink her turning circle, effectively spinning on the spot, just about maintaining her speed. Funnily enough, the magic was really quite simple. The skill came in not losing track of where you were. Drawing on years of experience tussling with Applejack, she dove for his legs. With one foreleg already in the air, hoof reaching out to where she had been, Rainbow easily destabilised him, and, with a powerful sweep of her wings, broke his connection to the ground. That cut off any Coromantic effect she knew of. Draped across her back as he was, however, allowed him to begin pummelling her, and he retained the strength earth ponies were famed for. It took only moments for Rainbow to buck him off, sending him flying away from her with some few feathers clasped firmly in his grip, but even with just that little time, Rainbow could already feel the bruises forming. She spun around using the same trick. Blitz lay motionless on the ground, hogtied and unconscious, underneath the other two. They raised their hooves, making as if to trample him—Rainbow paused, they couldn’t: he was no threat and . . . another bolt blasted past just in front of her. But Cirrus, now recovered from her tumble, was already there. A quick double-tap as she passed them, hooves lashing out to either side, and before they knew it both earth ponies manning the weapon were out cold. Now Crisp was moving towards her, sparing Rainbow not even a glance as she darted directly towards those holding Blitz. She crashed straight into their sides, not bothering with tactics or tricks, just brute speed, careening through them. All three landed in a heap, Blitz . . . could she even look, damn it, Rainbow, just do it . . . untouched—a silent sigh of relief, an unspecified weight off her wings—Rainbow shot down to the ground, swept up Crisp in her forelegs before the earth ponies, already recovering, could get much of a hold on her. Cirrus picked up Blitz, and just like that, they were away. “What . . . Who were those guys?” Rainbow nearly screamed, coming up alongside Cirrus. “Scouts,” Cirrus said, her voice clipped. “She okay?” “Scouts for who?!” Rainbow held a wing to Crisp’s mouth, feeling for breath. “She’ll be fine.” “Blitz, too,” Cirrus said. “You nearly got killed, Rainbow.” Rainbow dipped her head. “Likewise.” “I know what I’m doing. Though I could say more about this one,” she shrugged, pulling Blitz up in her forelegs. “Don’t worry about me, Cirrus” “Oh, but I am. We don’t have much use for a Chaser that’s going to hesitate every time somepony's going to die.” Outwardly, Rainbow began to scoff, laugh it off, launch into boastful tales of extravagant heroism. But . . . yeah. That was it, precisely. That was what bothered her. She’d shared Twilight’s pain, felt her fear . . . it didn’t compare. Entirely different, this, this realisation of consequence. Why had she never been scared for her life before? Not even in the direst of times, with danger all around her, she’d always been able to put on a brave face—not for them, for herself—and now? Rainbow began to tremble. She felt really tired—more so than she could easily remember, more than post-Show tired, more than she’d felt finishing a long day of cloud bucking, or an intensive workout. They put a few miles distance behind them before alighting, choosing an expanse of dirt and rock that boasted an absence of the vision-obscuring long grass. Cirrus turned her gaze skywards, made a soft grunt. “Here we go.” And from the sky above, Princess Luna descended. Clad in argent armour, a soft smile touching her lips, she stepped down onto the plain, some dozen guards, dark cloth covering dark fur, landing behind her. She extended a hoof towards Blitz, and Crisp in turn, each of them waking, injuries disappearing before Rainbow’s eyes. The smile slipped, turned down, and she nodded at Cirrus, who took off, flew up several hundred feet, and exploded. A ring, not multi-coloured as Rainbow’s was, but multi-toned, hues of light blue through grey exploding outwards from her as Cirrus accelerated north, body thinning and then, abruptly, she disappeared, literally, into the air. Time travel. Right. “Now, my little pony,” Luna said, turning to Rainbow. “Where are these scouts you’ve stumbled upon?”