Bold Heart, Nimble Wings. For almost as long as she could remember those had been her watchwords. They had guided her and driven her, taking her from a childhood in the sleepy suburbs of Cloudsdale to the very pinnacle of any ambitious pegasus’s flying career. “Bold Heart, Nimble Wings”: just words on a Wonderbolts poster to most ponies, but to a wide-eyed filly still reeling from watching Equestria’s finest aerial display team perform they became talismans. So many times she had lain awake at night, staring at that poster and picturing herself as one of the figures on it, clad in the Wonderbolts’ blue and yellow flight suit, her rainbow mane and tail streaming in the wind. Sometimes, she fancied she could almost hear the crowds chanting for her: “Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash!”
“Rainbow Dash!” came an impatient bark, jolting the daydreaming pegasus out of her reverie. “Come on, you’re up next!” The voice belonged to Spitfire, the captain of the Wonderbolts. She glared sternly at the last of the five lucky pegasi who had made it to the final round of this year’s tryouts. Rainbow Dash felt every hair on her body stand on end, bristling against the fabric of her flight suit. She swallowed, her heart pounding in her throat, and stepped forward. For a moment she thought Spitfire was genuinely annoyed, but the captain, pretending to consult her clipboard, looked up at her through the fringe of her fire-coloured mane and shot her a wink. “You can do it,” she whispered.
That was enough for Rainbow Dash, just knowing her idol was on her side. Spitfire had been a rookie member when Dash had seen her first show as a little filly. She had waited for nearly an hour to get an autograph afterwards, her mother carrying her on her back when she almost fell asleep in the queue, then in a fleeting moment — a hoofshake, the flash of a camera, a few words exchanged over the hubbub — a lifetime’s ambition was set in motion. It was Spitfire’s hoofprint that graced the poster on her bedroom wall. Rainbow Dash smiled warmly at the memory, feeling her nervousness dissipate like a spent rain cloud.
Clearing her mind, she drew a deep breath and unfurled her wings. For a moment she held the pose, eyes shut, wings spread, feeling the gentle tug of the breeze through her sky-blue feathers, then she braced her hooves against the cloud on which she stood and sprang into the air.
The Canterlot aerodrome spun gently below her as she circled to gain height, her mind already running through the routine. Inside loop... vertical climb... stall turn... No showing off this time, not for a Wonderbolts tryout. Only a tight, faultless routine would pass muster. Trottingham bunt... double roll... That had been her mistake before; the Wonderbolts were about more than mere spectacle, and for all the times she had impressed them with her wild and sometimes dangerous stunts, what they needed from a recruit was discipline and control. This was her second tryout, and only after her first rejection had the advice sunk in. Medley half-loop... barrel roll... Bold heart, nimble wings; that was what it was supposed to take to be a Wonderbolt. Dash had found it took so much more: diligent study, a punishing fitness regime, and a degree of focus and concentration beyond anything she’d had to maintain before. Griffon turn... up and into a tailslide... She held the routine in her mind’s eye as an intricate pattern of lines and forces floating above the arena, delicate as spun glass. Everything felt perfect — cloudless sky, light breeze, her head clear, her wings strong and limber. A whistle blew, and with the confidence a year of strict rehearsals brought, she swept into her first loop.
In the reading room of the library in Ponyville, a small purple dragon was woken from his nap by a familiar rumble in his stomach which erupted as a thunderous belch. The gout of green fire that accompanied it wavered in the air for a moment and coalesced into a paper scroll, which landed in his lap.
The yellow pegasus who had been engrossed in a copy of Fluttering Heights at a nearby table trotted over.
“Oh, Spike,” she said, nervously wringing her pink mane, “do you think that’s...?”
“It has to be,” the dragon replied. “Look, it’s just addressed ‘To my friends’. Do you want to open it, Fluttershy?”
“I think Twilight should be here too.”
Spike jogged over to the foot of the staircase and called up. “Twilight! It’s here!”
From upstairs came the clatter of hooves, followed by a heavy thud and a strangled yelp of pain. The dragon sighed, plodded over to a chest tucked under one of the bookshelves and lifted out a towel. Down the staircase, limping slightly as she went, came a unicorn with her indigo mane slathered in shampoo and water drizzling from her lavender coat into puddles on the stairs.
“Oh, thank you Spike,” she said. Her horn glowed for a moment, the towel lifted out of the dragon’s hand and wrapped itself neatly around her head. “Quick, what does it say?”
Spike ran a trembling claw across the wax seal and unfurled the paper. His eyes widened and he clasped a hand across his mouth. He turned the scroll so Twilight and Fluttershy could read it. On it were scrawled just three words in shaky writing, the ink blotchy in a few spots. They read: ‘I did it!’
A noise escaped Fluttershy’s mouth that was part squeal, part sob. “Oh, I’m so happy for her!” she said, her voice thick and tremulous.
“Everyone else has to know!” said Twilight. “Spike, can you write up some message scrolls, please? Fluttershy, will you wake Owloysius and ask him to deliver them? We’ve got a party to plan! Ooh, that reminds me — put in that special order to Sugarcube Corner with Pinkie’s note. And train tickets! I’ll go to the station myself and book them in advance just to be sure. Where are my saddlebags?” She trotted back and forth as she tried simultaneously to contain her excitement and to sort out a head filling with new plans.
“You might want to make yourself decent first,” said Spike, pointing to the window where a couple of curious passers-by were peering in with bemusement at the sight of a sodden, soap-covered unicorn prancing about the library.
“Um... of course,” said Twilight, blushing as she noticed the puddles of soapy water left in her wake. She drew the curtains. “I’ll just...”
“I’ll get the mop,” said Spike flatly.
Fluttershy glanced at the scrawled note again. “Good for you, Rainbow Dash,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “Good for you!”
The aerodrome was situated in a secluded mountain pasture outside Canterlot, tucked away around the mountainside so only the tips of the city’s tallest towers were visible. Long ago it had been a bustling airfield where balloons and dirigibles had once swarmed in and out like a hive of huge and colourful bees, but after a new airdock was built nearer the city it had fallen into disuse. Now it was just a broad arc of grassland bounded on its north edge by steep cliffs rising to the snow-capped peaks above and looking out over the rolling plains of Equestria far below. The aprons where the airships had once docked and the gravel paths that criss-crossed the meadow were now mostly hidden under grass and wildflowers. At one end of the pasture there was a neat rectangle of clear ground bordered by flagpoles flying bright red pennants that flapped in the breeze. In the cliff-face was a tunnel, the only way to reach the pasture except by air, and around its entrance was a cluster of tidy stone buildings — a guard house, a small dormitory, changing rooms and offices. It was the perfect spot for the Wonderbolts’ training grounds; airy yet secluded, sheltered by the mountains on one side but wide open on the other, like an amphitheatre set up to host performances for the world.
If the aerodrome was a theatre, Spitfire was its star performer. She strode along the assembled line of pegasi, chest puffed out, and spoke in a voice that rang clearly over the training grounds.
“Good morning, team!” she said. “Now, I’m sure you’ve all heard about her already, some of us know her quite well, but I’d like to formally welcome our newest recruit, Rainbow Dash.”
The line of blue and yellow-clad pegasi stomped their front hooves in applause. Rainbow Dash felt a hot blush spreading across her cheeks, and was glad for the hood of her flight suit covering her face. She chided herself; it wasn’t as if she hadn’t interacted with the Wonderbolts before. She’d hung out with them at the Grand Galloping Gala a few years earlier, caught Spitfire’s eye as a potential recruit when she led the waterspout operation in Ponyville, even saved the lives of Spitfire and two of her fellow team members after an accident at the Best Young Fliers competition. She wasn’t among strangers here. She had been selected out of dozens of applicants as the sole pegasus worthy of joining the team. So why did she suddenly feel so out of her depth?
“Alright, settle down,” Spitfire said at last. “Now, we have our first display of the season one week from today, so that means we need to train extra-hard. Two team members retired at the end of the last season, and another left over the break for personal reasons, which leaves us short on numbers. That means Rainbow Dash will be on first reserve. I know,” she added sternly as a low murmur struck up between several of the older members, “we don’t normally put a rookie in that position, but my hooves are tied. Need I remind some of you that I started on first reserve? Rainbow Dash is a very capable flier, and I would not have selected her if I didn’t believe she could meet our expectations.”
Dash shifted her hooves a little. She wanted to see who had been murmuring, but resisted the temptation to glance around.
“Now, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of my gabbing. Warm up, ten minutes. Lightning!” Spitfire was addressing one of the murmurers. “Take Rainbow Dash through the warm-up routine. Flap to it, everypony!”
The line-up scattered to start their exercises, leaving Rainbow Dash with Lightning, a pale blue stallion with a swept-back mane of orange and yellow, and one of the older members of the team. He nodded curtly and spoke in a low rumble: “Wing rotation first, like so.” He extended both his wings and swept them around in wide, lazy circles. Rainbow did likewise, smiling awkwardly as Lightning returned a steady, inscrutable gaze.
As the morning wore on, Dash began to settle into the training. They started on solo manoeuvres, the very things she had been practicing diligently for the past year. Her fellow Wonderbolts (she had almost squealed with delight the first time that had crossed her mind — fellow Wonderbolts!) were skilled beyond her expectations, and it was a pleasure to see them up-close. She relished the challenge of matching them, the sense that she was once again pushing her own envelope reminding her of how it felt a year ago when she first started taking her own training seriously. The exhilaration of being here, of having her abilities challenged by her heroes, spread a broad, satisfied grin across her face.
By the afternoon, that grin was threatening to turn into a grimace. They had moved onto formations, a style of flying Rainbow Dash was wholly unfamiliar with. Back in school she had, after much cajoling from a classmate, done one week of wing-ballet classes. She had hated every moment of it. That was as close as she had been to any kind of synchronised performance with other pegasi.
They had started out with a simple formation, the Swan, nine Wonderbolts flying closely in the rough shape of the bird, three in a line making up the ‘neck’, the remaining six in a ‘V’ shape behind them as the ‘wings’. Dash was the trailing flier on the left ‘wing’. Flying with the formation level was simple enough — she just had to keep Fleetfoot, the pegasus ahead of her, at a fixed point in her vision. It was when the whole Swan had to turn as one that she faltered, breaking formation as she struggled to adjust her own position relative to the rest of the group. On the third try Spitfire suggested she fly above the group while they performed it and observe. Puttering about on the outskirts only made Dash feel like an interloper, the feeble little rookie who couldn’t keep up. A hot brand of shame sizzled inside her head, and in frustration she bucked her hind legs at nearby cloud, knocking a puffy divot out of it. Spitfire broke out of the formation and flew up to meet her.
“Easy, Dash,” she said. “Nopony expects you to get it right the first time.”
“I expect it!” Rainbow Dash snapped back. “Everypony expects it! ‘Bold heart, nimble wings’, remember!?”
“Now that’s enough.” Spitfire fixed her with a steely glare. “This is not how a Wonderbolt behaves. We don’t train just to show off to each other. And we certainly don’t lose our tempers just because we come up against an obstacle. We’re a team, and that means we support each other.”
Rainbow Dash sagged. It was like being back in school again, the teacher berating her while she scuffed her hooves and refused to look them in the eye.
“Now, what’s giving you the most difficulty?” said Spitfire, her voice softer again.
“I can’t concentrate on what eight other pegasi are doing all at once,” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s hard enough just watching what I’m doing!”
“You don’t need to watch everypony. You just need to watch the pony in front of you, and ignore everything else. If we all do that, the formation holds together naturally. Come on, we’ll give it one more run-through and then move on.”
The remainder of the afternoon was a series of ups and downs for Rainbow Dash. She was getting the hang of focussing her attention only where it was needed, but doing that and still reacting quickly enough was difficult, which made her part of the formation look sloppy. For every success she had, another more taxing challenge came on its heels. It was exhausting, both mentally and physically, and as the sun began to set she was glad to hear the sound of Spitfire’s whistle bringing the team to attention.
“Okay, good show today everypony!” said Spitfire. “Mostly the basics, I know, but it’s as important as the flashy stuff. Speaking of which, why don’t we round off the session with a run-through of the Bluebell Break? I’m sure our newest member will get a kick out of it!”
Rainbow Dash beamed. It was one of the Wonderbolts’ signature moves, a spectacular formation where the whole team flew two lines abreast, wings almost touching, then splayed out in different directions. She remembered seeing them perform it in the very first display she watched, and many more times since. In a real performance they would be trailing smoke, scoring a pattern like a gigantic dandelion seed across the sky. There were no smoke trails in basic training, but it was thrilling nonetheless. The chance to perform it herself made all the hardships of the day worth it.
Spitfire took her aside for a moment to run through the manoeuvre. Dash’s role was simple enough: she would be on the outside, and as the formation broke she would roll left and peel away from the rest of the group.
“Okay, form up!” said Spitfire. “Soarin, you take the lead, I’ll be in position 3 alongside Dash. East-West at half-speed and break on my command.”
The team flapped into formation then swung around in a wide arc to begin the manoeuvre. Dash glanced over at Spitfire, watching her fiery mane streaming behind her and the setting sun flashing off her goggles. She’d swapped her usual position at the head of the formation, and the only reason Dash could think of was so she would be closest to her. She had to admire Spitfire’s leadership — this simple act had given her confidence a much-needed boost. Here she was, training side-by-side with the member of the Wonderbolts she knew best.
The formation swept over the training grounds, steady and level, every flier in perfect position, then Spitfire gave her command: “Break, break, GO!”
There was a flash of orange and blue at the edge of Dash’s vision, and her instinct to dodge almost overpowered her concentration on the manoeuvre, making her freeze. She flared her wings and shuddered to a halt in mid air. Ahead of her the formation completed the break, each member sweeping out in a graceful half-loop. Spitfire flew out of her loop early and flapped over to where Rainbow Dash hovered in bewilderment.
“You okay, Dash?” she said. “What happened?”
“I dunno, I just... froze,” said Rainbow Dash. She was acutely aware she was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving, and she avoided meeting Spitfire’s concerned gaze.
“That’s okay, I understand. These manoeuvres can be a little disorientating, and it’s been a long day. Come down for debriefing, then get some rest.” She placed a hoof on Dash’s shoulder. “You make sure you unwind properly this evening. If you dwell on every little mistake you’ll drive yourself up the wall. Trust me, you’re doing fine.”
Rainbow Dash accompanied her back to the ground in silence. She barely listened to Spitfire’s debrief, feeling small and meek while the other Wonderbolts around her suddenly seemed so accomplished and mature.
As the team trooped back to the dressing room, Lightning trotted up alongside her.
“Nice work out there today,” he said gruffly.
Dash gave him a sideways glance, examining him for any sign of sarcasm, but there was none — his expression was genuine, his tone honest.
“Thanks,” she said. The frown she had been wearing since she failed the Bluebell Break melted away. Reassurance from Spitfire was one thing, but coming from another Wonderbolt whom she didn’t know so well it carried a different weight. She had already convinced herself the rest of the team saw her as an upstart, still the same flighty young pegasus she had always been.
The little kernel of optimism Lightning’s remark had planted took root as she reminded herself that her friends from Ponyville were visiting tomorrow. It felt like an eternity since she had seen them, despite them all seeing her off to her tryout just three days earlier, and her heart swelled at the thought of it. She reminded herself how lucky she was to be here. She was following her dream, she had good friends to support her and teammates who respected her, and she couldn’t have wished for a better mentor in Spitfire. Everything was going to be all right. She even caught herself humming the anthem from her time in the Junior Speedsters in the shower and chuckled to herself. ‘Junior Speedsters, it’s our quest to someday be the very best...’
It was finally coming true for her.