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// 1.5: Consciences and Courage 
// Story: Taking a Gander 
// by HackamoreHalter 
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“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” A particularly clumsy, golden yellow mare muttered to herself, perhaps for the thousandth time that hour. She panted as she flapped her wings even faster for just a little more speed, wishing once more that she’d given in and joined in a few of her family’s traditional flight endurance races. Perhaps if she’d trained some, she would have recognized the logic in not wasting her breath during strenuous flights, but reason had never stopped Seafire from talking before.

“Nice goin’, Ducky. Real nice,” she grumbled, her eyes scanning the forests below and the skies above. “Poor guy’s got a big, probably hurty family reunion coming up, and what do you do? Go and insult him and his whole race.” 

It had taken her less than an hour to rethink her harsh words, and another to finish her work with the damaged cloudstarter while becoming mortified at the gall she had displayed. Perhaps it was a rather tame outburst, maybe even justified, but in Ducky's eyes she might as well have set fire to an orphanage for puppies. Immediately after her cloudstarter was in place and active, she’d lit out as fast as her wings could take her in the direction she’d last seen Gander flying, determined to at least offer a proper apology. 

The skies here were much more properly taken care of than the little patch of land she had been assigned to. The cloud cover was even and beautifully white. She dove down beneath the cloud line, taking care not to punch any holes in somepony else’s work, all while berating herself in quiet groans. “...And his freakin’ ancestors, probably. Insulted them, too. Ghosts of Granny and Gramps le Gannet will haunt me. Show up and be all, OOoooOOooo, lazy pony, for your insults to our culture we will haunt you for aaaaall time because that’s totally the griffon wa... wah... wuh... w-what the hay is that?!” 

In the distance, a small village had come into view. Thatched roof houses aligned in neat squares with red brick chimneys cheerfully spewing trails of wood smoke. Ducky’s sharp pegasus eyes could make out well-maintained gardens and cobblestone paths, brightly painted wood-and-canvas market stalls, and even an adorable little schoolhouse complete with a brass bell and colorful playground.

All-in-all, a picturesque Equestrian forest town. That is, if one did not notice the rampaging mountainous beast that towered above the quaint little buildings below, its head grazing the layers of clouds in the sky. It somewhat resembled a grizzly standing upright, if bears were made of the night’s sky and twinkling stars, with paws larger than houses and a toothy maw a pony could get stuck in like a kernal of corn. That very muzzle was open wide, and the bellow that came out of it blew her vibrant orange mane back and shook the air around the pegasus, a quake that ran through her bones even at her distance.

“What are you doing just floating there, lady?” A dark blue pegasus stallion with a trio of lightning bolts on his flanks called to her as he flew past, one in a small crowd of others. The flock of pegasi were a few dozen strong, of varying colors and cutie marks, and not a cheerful face among them. Below, she could see a herd of other ponies, mostly earth ponies with a few scattered unicorns, all with as many worldly possessions as they could hold and all traveling in the same direction: away from the monster currently destroying their homes. The stallion who'd addressed her paused for only a moment and gave a weary sigh. “If you're here to visit, you'd best move on. Nothing to do when the Ursa’s in town but head the other way.”

He made a slow loop, his own back covered in saddlebags and a pack, all filled to bursting. “We got our fastest heading to fetch the Guard. They’ll chase it off and we’ll rebuild. We always do.”

Ducky nodded numbly as the stallion started off once more. It was sound reasoning. There wasn’t anything a normal pony could do against something like that, and she knew better than most that the Guard and especially the Wonderbolts could handle it. They specialized in defending Equestria against threats like this. A pony like her didn’t have to lift a hoof. Just leave the hard work to somepony else.

“...Oh, crabapples.”  At least she could guess where Gander was. With a burst of speed and a constant stream of mentally questioning her own sanity, Ducky raced towards the village, passing over a sign that said ‘Welcome to Hoofington!’ so quickly that it bent in her wake. Relying on somepony else? Now that didn’t sound very griffony to her at all.