Spitfire blinked in relative silence, not sure exactly what to say before the smallest of the three Stalliongrad pegasi jerked his head up, squinting at the approaching dusk.

“Contact sighted,” he announced in a voice surprisingly full of authority. Everypony present gave him full attention in an instant. “Vector zero eight six. Altitude, at least eighty thousand, maybe eighty-five? Speed.... Whoa.”

“Whoa?” Spitfire arched an eyebrow.

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I haven't worked on this story in... Six years?
So I figure... "I really, REALLY need to finish this last chapter. I mean, it's the LAST chapter and it's been sitting for YEARS!"

So I've had the document open, for two weeks now, trying to recapture my 'voice' from six years back.

So I can finish it, and make a Mig-31 catch an SR-71.

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Since I'm kind of burned out and still busy, a little something fun from an in progress chapter.

For Celestia, Hearth's Warming Day was a time to relax. No court, the nobles were actually rather tolerable, and best of all, no administrative paperwork. For a day that was celebrated on the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, it was probably up there with her favorite day of the year... Cake Day.

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