The story of Featherfall, the pegasus that can spend her feathers to cast spells.
To be talented in magic is a rare gift, rarer still in a pegasus. For Featherfall, each spell comes at a cost: one of her precious feathers.
Part of Canterlot's elite Magical Crimes Unit, Featherfall struggles to solve the disappearances of two well-liked mares and the brutal murder of a renowned candle-maker, burned alive in his own shop. But, as the facts of the case emerge, Featherfall finds her own family implicated for the grisly crime and unearths hints of a far greater horror.
A Light that Shines in Darkness is the Light that Shines Brightest...
Chapter 1 The Abduction
From the outside there seemed to be nothing wrong with Bread & Buns Bakery. The “Open” sign was still sitting in the window, and the doors were both propped open. From its cheerful exterior the only thing that hinted at the gruesome scene that lay within was a thin yellow line of crime scene tape strung around the perimeter keeping patrons from their usual breakfast and lunch haunt.
As Featherfall picked her way through an avalanche of stale biscuits, glass shards crunched like autumn leaves beneath her hooves. It was impossible to avoid. The floor sparkled like a diamond mine. Featherfall stopped and sniffed the air. Contrary to previous crime scenes the air was fresh, warm, and inviting. Somehow it only made the destruction around her seem that much worse.
Featherfall frowned at her unicorn companion. “Yeah... Why are we on this case?”
Foresight skirted through the debris, making his way behind the counter. “Crackshot's orders,” he answered vaguely.
“Fore...” Featherfall growled.
“Sweet Bread vanished in the middle of the day and nopony saw a thing despite her shop looking like... this!” From behind the counter Foresight waved a hoof over the debris.
Featherfall looked around. Most of the furniture had not survived the event. The bakery looked like a set from the finale of a Daring Do movie. “Still...”
“Also, she was catering a garden party up at Canterlot Castle in three days and somepony up the chain thinks it might be related.”
Featherfall felt herself stretching her wings and quickly folded them, denying her baser urge. The crime scene needed to be kept as close to its original condition as possible. With so much debris the slightest careless twitch might shift something out of place and obscure vital evidence. “What about the register?”
The register's bell rang cheerfully as Foresight coaxed it open. “The money's still here. Looks like they had a good morning before our suspect showed up.”
“Okay so probably not robbery,” Featherfall observed. She looked around the room, trying to pick out anything that might suggest a motive. To the laypony the place simply looked trashed. Featherfall's training and experience said otherwise. The encounter had begun at the tables in the back where Sweet Bread's apron lay. Ruptured stitches along the seams of the apron strings said it had been torn off her body and it was pinned partially under an overturned table. Everything else between there and the wall was pristine. The scuffle had proceeded across the room toward the door, but had ended before the victim and her assailant reached the door.
In her mind's eye Featherfall could see Sweet Bread's thrown body flying through the air and crashing into the display case. Bread and glass poured down around her like a waterfall, spilling across the floor and mingling with freshly spilled blood. That was where things stopped making sense. Glass shards shimmered like rubies in spilled blood, forming a gruesome path to the bakery's front door.
“What drives somepony to attack in broad daylight and then take their victim out the front door?” Foresight asked. “It's a busy street out there. Surely somepony would have said something if they saw a mare being carried out in the middle of the day.”
She looked back at the crushed display case. It was hard to believe that Sweet Bread had gotten up and willingly walked out with whoever had just thrown her around like a ragdoll. Perhaps duress?
“Sourdough and Pumpkin Bread have arrived outside. Please go out there and make sure they don't come inside,” Foresight instructed. He looked up from his work and surveyed the mess of glass, bread, and blood. “They don't need to see this.”
Featherfall looked out the window but couldn't see them. Foresight's ability always creeped her out a little. She had never said so but she was pretty sure he knew. The older stallion seemed to be clairvoyant. “Alright,” she said, and marched outside. Two earth ponies were waiting with a uniformed officer.
“Agent Featherfall,” the officer said. “We were just about to come get you. This is Sourdough. He's the one that called us about the disturba... err.. disappearance.”
“Hello,” Featherfall said, looking back and forth between the despondent stallion and his disinterested son. “I am Agent Featherfall with the Magical Crimes Unit.”
“Sourdough,” the father responded feebly. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. Grief was etched into his face. Dark circles under his eyes said he probably hadn't slept much since making the report. “Please, have you found my wife? Why is Magical Crimes involved? We don't do any magic here.”
“She probably ran off with someone,” Pumpkin sneered. That brought back some vitality in the stallion.
“You keep your mouth shut,” Sourdough snapped.
Featherfall braced herself for the storm brewing between the father and son, a typical hazard in her line of work. She stifled an inward yawn, wishing she had slept on the train. “Officer Flintlock, would you mind talking with Pumpkin for a few minutes? I have a few questions for his father.”
Flintlock gave her a pleading look, but the pegasus did not budge. Finally he sighed. “C'mon kid. Let's go.”
“I understand that this is a hard time for you, Mr. Bread,” Featherfall said once they were out of earshot of the others. “I have to ask you a few questions and I need you to stay calm and answer them to the best of your ability. That is the best way to help us find your wife. Alright?”
“Yes, that's fine. Anything to help.”
“When did you last see your wife, Sweet Bread?”
“Yesterday morning. The breakfast rush was winding down. There were only a few customers left. I went home to check on Pumpkin. He's grounded right now and I was worried he'd been sneaking out while we were at shop so I thought I'd drop in on him, maybe catch him gone.”
Featherfall plucked a feather from her wing and began scribbling everything Sourdough said into her notebook. Despite the lack of an inkwell, words were flowing out onto the page, seemingly seared into the paper.
“I was gone less than an hour. When I got back the police were there and one of our regulars was saying how the shop was wrecked. Do you think I could look around? They didn't let me inside. Maybe there's something I could point out?”
“Was there anything valuable in the shop?” Featherfall asked. “Something somepony might want to take?”
“Well...” he looked thoughtful, but his ears drooped. He knew the implications of his answer before he said it. “No.”
“Secret recipes maybe? Information can be as valuable as diamonds.” Sourdough shook his head. So much for the robbery angle. “What about your son?”
The baker frowned. “What about him?”
“Was he home?” Featherfall asked.
“He was, but he hadn't done his chores. We argued about it and I sent him to his room. This is supposed to be a safe neighborhood...”
Featherfall thought for a moment, licking the tip of her quill. She went wide-eyed as it sent a little electric buzz through her tongue, reminding her that this was not a regular quill. She shook it off, trying to pretend it didn't happen and ignored Sourdought's unhappy frown at her eccentric behavior. “It's a memory spell. Don't worry about it. Why was your son grounded?”
“But you're a pegasus...” the stallion said, levelling an accusatory hoof at her. “How can a pegasus do magic?”
Featherfall took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Sir, we need to focus on your son. Why was he grounded?”
Sourdough scowled. “He snuck out of school to hang out with his delinquent friends. I told him he's not allowed to see them anymore.” He stamped his hoof. “They're a bad influence.”
“What about your wife? Do any of her friends bother you?”
“All of them,” Sourdough lamented, looking skyward for a moment. He heaved a weary sigh. “They prattle on endlessly, gossiping. They're all harmless.”
“So no real problems there then? Nopony in her life that might have a grudge against her?”
“No, no definitely not," he said. "Everypony loves Sweet Bread.”
“And what about you?” Featherfall inquired. "Any threats? Business deals gone wrong? Anypony asking inappropriate or odd questions?"
Sourdough shook his head and sighed. “Nothing, sorry, I mean, I'm not sorry. We're good ponies. Respectable. We don't cause trouble and we don't want any. I just.. I don't know what to tell you!”
“No that's good,” she said, sensitive to the stress the baker was under. “I'm sure you're thinking that this isn't helping but it is. You're helping to direct the investigation.” This was partly true, local police were still likely to interview most of Sweet Bread's friends and neighbors, but to the seasoned investigator it looked like none of them were a likely culprit.
Back inside the bakery Featherfall found her partner going through the receipts for the day. It was a task made all the more difficult by a spilled jar of maple syrup. She thought to offer to help, but decided to leave this to somepony with easy access to telekinesis.
“What did you find?” Foresight asked without looking up from his work. Strip after strip floated into the air before him, their syrup coating dripping off into a bowl.
“Good family, obnoxious kid. No real enemies. Sourdough says he was only gone for an hour, and there were only two patrons when he left. Two unicorns, a light blue mare with plenty of money in her purse and a grey stallion with a bad attitude. They arrived separately but ordered together.”
“Regulars?”
“No, never saw them before. Said he was pretty sure he would have remembered them. Didn't get a good look at their marks either.”
“I wish he had...” Foresight lifted a small tuft of fur from the wrecked display case. It was dark grey.
* * *
Featherfall was the second to arrive in the conference room. Foresight didn't look up from his notes when she trudged through the door. “Good morning Featherfall,” he said and took a little sip of his coffee. “I got you one.”
The pegasus seized the cup that floated over to her and took a swig of the near-scalding liquid. It had the desired effect. She shook her head as her feathers bristled. With Foresight's eyes on her she lumbered over to her seat and slouched into it, resting her head on the table.
Foresight turned his attention back to his notes. “You look tired,” he commented, probing.
Featherfall was too well seasoned to fall for that. “I am,” she answered, deliberately vague.
The notes dropped back to the table. Foresight's concerned eyes were fixed on her now. “What's your feather count?”
“High enough.”
Foresight wrinkled his nose in frustration. “Featherfall...”
The pegasus rolled her eyes. “Plus eight.”
“Are you sure?”
She lifted her head off the table, summoning enough energy to glare crossly at her partner. “Yes!”
The unicorn's ears perked. “Crackshot is coming,” he warned. The irritated pegasus quickly straightened her mane and sat up straight. A moment later the unit's only earth pony arrived. The tough old stallion had a reputation for getting the job done and a low tolerance for nonsense. Swansong followed shortly after. Coldhorn was last to arrive, slinking in a few minutes late. She sidled up to Foresight's chair without being noticed.
“Good morning Foresight,” she hissed into his ear. He sprung up quickly, hackles raised.
“Do not do that, Coldhorn,” Foresight growled.
Crackshot stomped his hoof. “Agent Coldhorn! Take your seat.”
“Whatever you say boss,” Coldhorn said. The flippant detective found a seat next to Featherfall. She was a sunflower yellow unicorn with a pale blue mane and tail. Featherfall knew better than to fall for Coldhorn's disguise. Still, she was thankful for it. In her natural form Coldhorn easily set Featherfall's nerves on edge. The pegasus wasn't sure which was more unsettling: the changeling's fanged, disingenuous smile or the holes that dotted Coldhorn's limbs. She looked up from her coffee and found Coldhorn grinning at her. A little chill ran up her spine, waking her up in ways the caffeine couldn't. Definitely the smile. Featherfall instinctively leaned away, but it only drove the changeling detective to lean in closer.
“Now that everypony's here...” Crackshot continued. All eyes turned back to him. “Robbery division has noticed an increased number of thefts in districts four and seven. Keep an eye out for suspicious behavior if you're in the area and call it in. Also we've had our units on the ground looking for Sweet Bread but there's been no sign of her still. It's been three days. We do not want this case to go cold, ponies! Press your CI's for information. Somepony brazen enough to rob a place during the middle of the day is probably going to brag about it. I want leads people.”
Featherfall could feel delirium setting in as she struggled to brace herself for the hour long meeting ahead. Freedom came in the form of a knock at the door. Crackshot carried on in spite of it, but a pegasus nosed it open. He had a courier's satchel across one shoulder and a hat to match.
Evergreens blanketed in snow whisked past the window. Between them Featherfall could see a snow-covered valley, sparkling in the morning sun. Featherfall blinked as the scene blurred and shook her head trying to clear it. The warmth of the coach and steady rumble of the tracks beneath threatened to lull her to sleep.
“The victim is a candlemaker,” Foresight said, too busy skimming through the local authority's brief to take note of his partner's inattentiveness. "He's called Waxworks. Found him about an hour ago.”
“Anything else?” Featherfall asked with obvious disinterest. She knew the briefs were little more than placeholders designed to summon more senior detectives to a crime scene as quickly as possible.
Foresight quickly skimmed to the bottom of the page. “No.”
The pegasus rolled her eyes. And they called him Foresight...
Foresight peered over his partner's shoulder, taking in the rustic countryside. Log cabins with smoke coming out their chimneys promised warmth, family, and fresh homemade pastries. Hearth's Warming Eve was just around the corner. “It's a nice place. It's a pity we don't come out here more often,” he said, mostly to himself.
Featherfall lifted her head from the sill and turned a weary, blood-shot eye toward him. “Pity usually doesn't bring us places, Fore."
The stallion wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You're awfully cheery today. Usually you're eager to get out of Crackshot's meetings.”
“Sorry, you're right,” she said. She hung her head and felt her ears droop. “I was just thinking of home. My aunt and uncle are candlemakers you know.”
“I didn't,” he said.
“The first time they came to visit was around Hearth's Warming was...” Featherfall trailed off, looking for the right word.
“Bad?” Foresight offered.
Featherfall shrugged her wings. “Strange...”
It had been a happy experience at the time, albeit very confusing to the young pegasus. With the manor bathed in bright, twinkling lights and the smell of warm cinnamon buns baking in the kitchen the young filly's mind was on one thing: Hearth's Warming Eve!
Poised to strike at the top of the stairs she spread her little wings, nose pointed at the door. Torch raced past with a doll hanging from his mouth, jeering as he ran. Her older sister, Shimmer, was in hot pursuit.
“I'm going to banish you to the moon!” she howled. “Nightmare Moon will eat you up!”
“Frosty! Catch!” Torch shouted. He flung the doll over the banister, out of Shimmer's reach. Frosty; that's what they used to call her.
Without a moment's hesitation she leaped over the banister and caught the doll in her teeth. Frantic flapping ensued as she struggled to stay aloft. The doll sprang to life in her jaws, forcing her head back toward the balcony where Shimmer's horn was aglow with fiery magic. Frosty pulled back, but Shimmer's magic was strong. Too strong. She could see her sister's eyes widen in horror at the soft sound of tearing fabric. In the course of a few seconds the doll was nearly rent in twain. Frosted Lights felt it go limp and let it drop to the ground.
“Oops...?” Frosty smiled sheepishly. Shimmer just growled. The little pegasus barely caught a glimpse of orange magic as Shimmer's telekinetic strike buried itself into her soft belly. Strength fled her limbs and her eyes watered up. Vertigo. She closed her eyes tight, unable to will her wings back to life. The sound of tiles cracking and popping beneath her must have carried to the kitchen because when she opened her eyes again her mother, Merry Lights, was standing over her.
“S-sorry?” Frosty offered weakly, then coughed. Her belly still ached from the blow. “Shimmer punched me...”
The pegasus filly could feel gravity abandon her as her mother's magic lifted her into the air. She hung there, turning helplessly. Instinct compelled her to stretch her wings as she looked down at the floor below. When the inspection ended Frosty dropped back to the ground and landed daintily on her little hooves.
Merry fumed and started shouting straight away. “This is why there is no flying allowed in the house! You could have been seriously hurt and just look what you've done to our nice tile floor! Your aunt and uncle will be here any minute and this is their first impression of our household.”
Frost looked away from her mother's burning eyes.
“Frosted Lights. Look at me when I am talking to you!”
The little pegasus looked up with tear-streaked eyes. “Frosty,” she corrected.
Her mother's eyes seemed to bulge out of her head. “Are you back-talking me young lady?”
“My friends call me Frosty,” she said.
“Frosty?” Merry echoed.
“Yeah!” Torch cheered from his vantage point on the balcony. “Frosty the Snowmare! She's gonna be the best in all Cloudsdale! Did you see how she caught that thing midair like that?! Awesome! She's gonna be the best flyer on the Hearth's Warming crew!”
A glare from Merry silenced the enthusiastic colt and elicited a little snicker from Shimmer. Merry straightened her posture, doing her best to look instructional. “Weather duty is hardly becoming of a young lady. Now, go to your room.”
Frosty was not about to go down without a fight. “But it was an accident!”
“No flying in the house. Room. One hour.” Merry had her hoof pointed at the stairs. This was not a battle the pegasus would win. She slunk up the stairs with her head hanging. The door closed behind her in the grip of her mother's magic.
A short time later she heard a whisper coming from it. “Psst, Frosty.”
“Torch?” she asked in disbelief. “What are you doing? You'll get in trouble!”
“I know,” he whispered back. “But... thanks for not ratting me out.”
“Hey, what are you doing?” another voice asked. Frosty put her ear against the door. It was Blaze, her oldest brother.
“I was just checking on her, honest!” Torch protested.
Blaze grumbled. “You know the rules. She's being punished. No talking.”
Torch stamped his hoof. “Yeah, well, Shimmer knocked her out of the air. How come she's not being punished?!”
“Didn't you take her doll?”
“I...” Torch fell silent. Frosty slumped onto her bed after she heard them both go.
Her punishment was commuted by the arrival of her aunt and uncle. She hurried out the door and was the first to meet them. One of the servants had already replaced the broken tiles. It was their job to answer the door as well but she could see visitors through the window.
“Well aren't you precious?” Cheery asked when Frosted Lights emerged onto the front porch. “Absolutely adorable.”
The pegasus beamed. “I'm Frosty,” she chirped.
“Of course you are! Isn't she cute?” Cheery grinned at her husband. "Just think about it! Somepony to clean around the house and if they had a foal as cute as this!
Candle sighed. “We're not getting one. It's demeaning. Now please, don't bring it up again in front of Merry and Dawn.”
Cheery frowned. Her bags floated across the porch and landed in a heap before the little pegasus. “Please take these to our room.”
Frosty stared at them, dumbfounded, as her relatives brushed past her into the house without further explanation. Answering the door came with more responsibilities than the young pegasus had expected.
By the time Frosty had finished her new-found duties the dining room was bustling with the activity of servants and family. Servants were bringing food in from the kitchen while Frosty's brothers and sister were opening their gifts from Aunt Cheery. Frosty could see her father and Candle out on the balcony smoking cigars.
“Now Merry, where is your youngest?” Cheery was asking.
Merry looked hesitant. “She'll be along shortly...”
Frosted came up behind them and found a little package with her name on it sitting on the floor beneath Cheery's chair. Her eyes lit up. A present! Shimmer had one just like it, and was daintily removing the ribbon with her telekinesis.
“Uhm, Merry? Who is that?” Cheery asked, looking down at the little blue filly struggling with the ribbon.
Merry followed Cheery's eyes down to the local commotion. “Oh, there she is. Frosted Lights say hello to your Aunt Cheery.”
Frosty looked up at her aunt just long enough to wave and shout “Hi Aunt Cheery!”
Cheery's eyes widened as her ears drooped. She flashed a questioning glance at Merry but Merry averted her eyes without answering.
Frosty sensed something was wrong. “I can open it, right?”
“Uh... well... uh... yes?” Cheery said, meekly.
The little pegasus took the ribbon in her teeth and yanked it off. The package spilled open and something metal tinked onto the tile floor. Frosty snatched it up. It was long and slender, with a gold-inlaid handle and a glittering ruby affixed as decoration. For a moment silence reigned as Frosty stared at her gift in mute incomprehension.
Finally her face brightened. “It's a sword!” she cheered. Hopping up on her hind hooves she fenced with the air, advancing on Torch.
Shimmer groaned. “It's a horn file, stupid!”
“It's a sword!” Cheery corrected. “...And it can be used as a horn file,” she added miserably with a searing glare at Merry.
“Okay kids, put away your toys it is time for dinner!” Merry sang, desperate for a change of venue.
The rest of the week passed with little incident. Lights and the toys and the treats dominated the pegasus filly's thoughts and the strange gift was almost forgotten. Who could blame one so young to overlook one dark blot, so easily washed out by the bright lights of Hearth's Warming? But the lights faded, and the horn file remained...
The train slowed as it pulled into the station. Featherfall was on her feet before the tell-tale hiss of steam. When it came the doors unlocked and she hurried out onto the platform, glad for the brisk winter air. It was revitalizing.
A beat up wooden sign, in need of a new paint job, hung over the door to the candle shop. Waxworks Wicks, it said in flecks of red. An officer stopped them at the door. Beyond him, Featherfall could see the victim, he was badly burned. The nauseating medley of charred flesh, lavender, roses, and mint made her stomach turn.
“Magical Crimes Unit,” Foresight said, floating his badge before the officer. “I'm Agent Foresight, and this is Agent Featherfall.”
“Iron Shield,” he said. “Glad you made it out so quick. Seems pretty cut-and-dry though. Not sure why the MCU needs to be involved...”
“We like to follow up on any case involving the Summer Sun Celebration,” Foresight explained. "Waxworks was on the list. What've you got?”
“The officer gestured them inside. “That's the victim, Waxworks. His clerk reported the death this morning. She seems clean. Wife's missing. Clerk says one of the warehouse colts from up the road has been hanging around a lot. Thinks they might've been having a fling. Two and two, this one's just another case of love gone bad if you ask me.”
Foresight stopped cold. “The wife is missing? That wasn't in the brief...”
“Fancy that,” Featherfall said, rolling her eyes. She plucked a feather and began taking notes. “What is the name of the warehouse?”
Iron Shield pulled out his notes. “201 Divine St. I was just about to head up there.”
“Mind if we tag along?” Foresight asked. The officer seemed uncertain. “We're not here to take your case,” he said. “Just due diligence. This isn't the first mare on our list to go missing this week.”
He could read between the lines. The MCU wouldn't be on scene if there weren't a chance of them taking the case. But there was very little he could do to stop them. “Alright, it's just up the road.”
The warehouse was busy. Stallions everywhere loading up boxes into carts for distribution. A supervisor spotted the trio as the entered and was quick to head them off. He had an anguished look about him.
“We just need a few minutes of your time,” Iron Shield said, sensing the coming storm.
“Hearth's Warming is five days away and I'm a half-shift behind!” the supervisor wailed. “This is our busiest season! Do you have any idea the pressure we're under?!”
Iron Shield straightened up to full height and looked down at the supervisor. “We've got a murdered stallion up the road and we're going to follow through. Now, one of your workers has been implicated. You're going to point him out to me or we'll shut the whole line down until we make sure we've got our suspect. Got it?”
The supervisor nodded wearily.
“Now, we're looking for somepony called Lucky Break,” Iron Shield explained.
The supervisor's eyes lit up. “Lucky Break? Couldn't be him.”
“What makes you so sure?” Iron Shield asked.
The supervisor pointed up at the office overlooking the factory warehouse floor. “He's in there; busted leg. Been there all night.”
“We'll have a talk with him. Thank you for your cooperation.” Iron Shield nodded stiffly. The frustrated supervisor lumbered away, pausing to give the officer a sneer once his back was turned.
Lucky Break was seated at a desk, his left hind leg in a cast. It was apparent by the look of him that he could not have been Waxworks' killer. The bedraggled stallion looked barely capable of lifting his hoof, let alone killing somepony.
He looked up at the officers and then visibly sank into his chair, hanging his head despondently. “This is not my day,” he said. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it.
“Does your boss let you smoke in here?” Featherfall asked, pointing a hoof.
He took another drag and blew it out across the desk, rustling some papers. “Ain't my boss anymore. Fired this morning. Free as a bird!”
“What do you do here, Mr. Break?” Iron Shield asked.
He leaned back in his chair, eyeballing the cop with some suspicion. “We ship candles.”
One of the boxes from the warehouse floor had been left by the door with the lid askew. Featherfall pulled it off and set it aside, freeing a pleasing medley of floral scents. Lucky Break sat up straight, craning his neck to see what she was doing.
“I dropped that when they told me I was canned. Careful of the glass,” he warned.
Iron Shield continued his line of questioning. “And why were you dismissed?”
Featherfall sifted carefully through the broken glass and chunks of wax until she found a sizable piece with label still intact. To her surprise it wasn't a Waxworks' Wicks logo. Summershine Candles, Canterlot's Finest.
Lucky Break shrugged. “They found out I was having a fling with Moonsong. Thought I might be letting slip company secrets. But what kind of secrets would I know anyway?” He was quickly becoming belligerent. “I just load the bucking crates into the carts! Half the time I don't even know what's in 'em!” He pounded his hoof on the desk, now shouting every word. In the moment of silence that followed Featherfall became aware that the bustle of the warehouse floor had ceased. Peering out through a slat in the blinds she saw all eyes were on the office.
“I understand your frustration. We just need to ask a few more questions and then we'll be out of your mane,” Iron Shield said.
“Fine, ask away. I ain't got nothing better to do. Not 'til I get my last paycheck. Then I'll be down at Silver Arrow getting hammered til Hearth's Warming.”
Featherfall nudged Foresight. “I think we should go...” she whispered. Foresight waved her off.
“When was the last time you saw or heard from Moonsong?”
The fires went out in Lucky's eyes. When he opened his mouth was barely above a whisper. “...what happened to her?”
“Mr. Break...” Iron Shield started.
“What happened to her?!” the earth pony howled.
“Boss lady's coming,” Foresight warned.
Featherfall drooped visibly, much to her partner's confusion. "Here it comes," she muttered.
Iron Shield was desperate to calm Lucky Break down. He rested his hooves on the stallion's shoulders and pushed him back down into the chair. “She's gone missing; her husband's been murdered. Now if you want to help us find her-”
The office door swung open and a unicorn mare burst in. Her pelt was snowy white in stark contrast to her soft orange mane, streaked with yellow. Her mark was a flame accented with bright blue sparkles.
For just a moment she looked around at the surprised faces. “Well? What's going on in here?” she snapped. Her eyes rested on Featherfall. Her lips tugged back into a disgusted sneer, her words dripping with vitriol. "Frosted? What are you doing here?”
“You!” Lucky Break flipped the table over and hobbled toward Shimmer with wrath in his eyes. “You had them killed! Didn't you?!”
“Officer?” Shimmer inquired calmly, looking to the injured earth pony clawing his way across the floor in her direction. Her telekinesis easily kept him at bay, only adding to his blind rage. He roared his fury, splintering floorboards beneath the onslaught of pounding hooves. It was such a pitiful sight that the other three just looked on in dismay.
“You did this!” Lucky wailed. “This whole damn company's going belly up so you had them killed! Murderer! Murderer!!”
“Officer!” Shimmer barked, indignant.
Iron Shield snapped into action. Lucky Break was quickly restrained, sobbing on the floor in a hobble. Once the belligerent was secured Iron Shield turned a baleful eye on Featherfall. He pointed a hoof at Shimmer. “Why does she know you?!”
Featherfall found Crackshot waiting for her in the lobby. He had been pacing back and forth but stopped and shot her a cold look when she met his gaze. There was no doubt in her mind that this was about the fallout at the Waxworks' murder. “In my office. Now.” Yup.
They passed Foresight in the hall. Featherfall gave him a nervous grin but he couldn't seem to his his frown. She could see the worry written on his face. She flinched when Crackshot slammed the door behind them. She took a deep breath, determined to get out in front of the flanke-chewing she knew was coming.
“Listen, I can explain,” she started, but quickly stalled, finding It was hard to not wilt under the lieutenant's disapproving glare.
“No. You listen,” he growled. “I've been getting angry memos all morning from Murder Squad and the Northwest District about your involvement in their case. It is an outrageous conflict of interest to have an agent on the scene investigating her own family. If that weren't enough, I've got official complaints from Blazing Lights and Shimmering Lights. They're saying we're trying to sabotage their business by siccing their estranged sister on them!”
“I didn't even know it was their warehouse!” Featherfall shot back. “And when I figured it out I told Foresight we had to go. Shimmer came up the stairs before we could leave.”
Crackshot heaved a sigh. “There's a thirty foot sign in the lobby that says Summershine Candles.”
“The super took us in through the back. I'm off the case. I get it! You can lay off.”
“You have an attitude problem, Featherfall,” Crackshot said. He took a seat behind his desk where he could glare down at her. “We might not be in this situation if you had handled yourself better. It says here you told an officer Iron Shield that it 'wasn't a big deal'. What you do; what you say, reflects on this office. Now I know you think you're well seasoned. Three years on the job now. But let me tell you, there are unicorns on the force who have been working a beat for twenty, thirty years chomping at the bit for a detective shield in our department. It took a lot of work getting a pegasus assigned to Magical Crimes.”
Featherfall's heart sank. “It was an accident!”
Crackshot didn't budge. “But your behavior afterward was not.”
“I'm sorry...” she said, ears drooping.
“You're on desk duty for two weeks. Swansong will be assisting Foresight in your absence.”
It was Featherfall's nature to protest, and she could feel one bubbling up in the back of her mind, but reason won out over passion, and she slunk out of the lieutenant's office without the slightest attempt to pretend nothing was wrong. Foresight followed after her but could offer little consolation to the crestfallen pegasus, particularly with Swansong impatiently waiting for him by the door.
“It's fine,” Featherfall said, shooing him away. “I'll be okay.”
She fought back tears after he had gone. Fired. She hadn't been yet, but the thought loomed heavily in her mind. She might never walk out that door with a badge around her neck again. Eventually she gathered herself, took a deep breath, and dug into the paperwork. She hadn't seen so many forms since her admittance to flight school.
Those had been good days, living in Cloudsdale with Snowy Sunrise, her grandmother. Proper-fitting clothes... She had arrived in one of Shimmer's old dresses. It was nice, but lacking in one area of particular importance: a cut for her wings. It looked a little lumpy on the blossoming pegasus, so eager to begin her education with a new outlook on life and a new cutie mark to boot: a candle with a snowflake for its flame. There was some hemming and hawing by friends and family alike over what it meant. She had always wanted to be on the snow delivery team for Hearth's Warming Eve, and to her that was all that mattered. Her grandmother saw to a proper dress, and her cutie mark brought her new friends.
Like the little spark of magic the holiday brought to everypony, there was a little spark of magic residing in the young pegasus. Her unique talents were a big hit at the school in Cloudsdale. There was, after all, the Lights family legacy behind her. All three of her siblings, her father and many of his siblings, his father, the list went on of Lights family unicorns performing well in Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. Of course, there had never been a Lights family pegasus. Not until Fading Lights had taken Snowy Sunrise to be his wife. They had only one son, Dawn, a unicorn. The Lights family breathed a collective sigh of relief for Blaze's birth and then for Shimmer's. By the time Torch was born all worry had been abandoned. Until Merry had her fourth and final foal and surprised them all.
Frosty's talents were tricks, mostly. She could charge a feather with magic and fling it into the air where it would burst into fluffy white snow and drift down over those gathered around her. Her teachers would shake their heads in disapproval. Plucking primaries was dangerous, they had told her. Maneuverability, speed, sustaining flight; all of these were jeopardized when feathers were missing.
Featherfall didn't miss the homework, but she did miss Snowy. The Cloudsdale snowglobe on her desk was a gift from her grandmother on the day of her graduation from flight school. Oh how she missed Snowy...
She gave the bauble a little shake and watched the snow drift down. Once it had settled she stood with renewed resolve to save her job and retrieved the Sweet Bread case files. New developments. Pumpkin “Punkin'” Bread had arrived at the local police station and reported his mother had returned and left with his father and neither had come back overnight. There was a stack of interview cards from the numerous friends and acquaintances whom local officers had interviewed. It would be dark out before Featherfall finished going through all of them. Several more prominent entries were transcribed into her own notebook. Each letter flowed from the tip of her plucked feather, scorching itself into the page and cementing the words firmly in her mind. Recall was a gift she didn't have, but one she could make.
“You're here late...” Coldhorn observed from behind. Featherfall nearly jumped out of her seat.
“Coldhorn!” she gasped. She quickly gathered herself. “I'm on desk until the Waxworks case blows over,” Featherfall explained. “I kinda mouthed off to a local uniform.”
Coldhorn shrugged. She was in her natural form. Featherfall tried hard not to stare at the holes in the changeling's legs but this was not unusual.
“Can I.. help.. you...?” the pegasus asked hesitantly.
A bottle rose into the air between them, ensnared in the soft green glow of Coldhorn's magic. “Care to join me? Found it in Crackshot's desk.”
Featherfall's eyes widened. “Are you nuts?!”
“Pssht, relax, I'll replace it before he notices it's gone.” Coldhorn poured her a glass. 'Borrowing' the lieutenant's whiskey didn't seem like the best thing to do her first day on desk duty, but angering the changeling with a refusal didn't seem like a healthy career decision either.
“Thanks,” she said and took a sip.
Coldhorn's glass floated up to Featherfall's. “To the freaks,” she said, clinking them together.
“Right,” the pegasus said halfheartedly. “Coldhorn... doesn't that bother you?”
“No,” she answered without hesitation. She squinted at her glass and swished it around before taking a sip. Her pupils contracted to thin vertical slits for a few moments. Once they had returned to normal she gulped the entire shot down.
Featherfall watched the procedure with interest. “Never had whiskey before?”
Coldhorn shook her head. “Wasn't allowed for cadets.”
Featherfall had a hard time envisioning the changeling as somepony that followed the rules. She drank her own shot down and Coldhorn refilled both. Getting drunk with a changeling. Probably not the dumbest thing she had done in the past week. “So you were just a cadet when uh...”
Coldhorn looked down at her, squinting like she too was something new in the changeling's odd life. “When the changelings came and cocooned me, yes,” she answered the pegasus' unfinished question.
Her azure-pelted drinking buddy nodded dully and downed another. “That must feel frustrating,” she said, regretting the word choice almost before it escaped her mouth. To her surprise Coldhorn actually chuckled.
“That's the beauty of it, isn't it? You would think I would feel remorse over the life I lost, but I cannot. Part of me knows I would never have chosen this fate but in the end I feel a little...” she lifted her hoof and eyed Featherfall through one of the bigger holes. “...hollow.” She grinned, wickedly.
“Still...” Featherfall said uncertainly.
All at once Coldhorn became serious. “I did my duty,” she said. “I do not regret that. I survived, and my duties continue. I will follow that unerringly. Though I have changed, my loyalty— my creed — remains intact. What I am is different; who I am is not. Courtesy my rescuers. Another day and I might have gone drone.”
“Well that's lucky,” Featherfall said, wincing again on her words “That they found you, I mean.” Confounded by the words still coming out of her mouth she held up her shot glass, wondering how many she had emptied.
“So how 'bout you and Foresight?” Coldhorn asked, eyeing the pegasus with suspicion.
Featherfall felt her cheeks warm. “What about us?”
The changeling detective snickered to herself. “Are you... partners?”
“Wh-what? No!” Featherfall yelped, her wings fluttering anxiously against her back.
“But you've thought about it,” Coldhorn accused. She flashed a knowing grin at the now-paralyzed pegasus. “I can tell.”
“I... I uh...” Featherfall stuttered in protest.
“Boring,” Coldhorn remarked, rolling her eyes. She took a deep swig straight from the bottle and burped loudly. She grinned at the still off-balance mare. “Do your best Crackshot impersonation.”
“Uh... hmm...” Featherfall visibly relaxed as she thought it through for a moment. Then, in her gruffest and most self-important voice she growled, “Young lady, you have an attitude problem!” She broke into a giggling fit.
“Okay, my turn,” Coldhorn said, grinning wryly. In a flicker of green flames she vanished, replaced by the spitting image of Crackshot himself. “Ahem. Daily briefings are an essential part of a high-functioning unit!”
“Hey that's cheating!” Featherfall pointed an accusatory hoof at the changeling. “You have to do it without shapeshifting.”
Crackshot's stern visage erupted into green flames, revealing the nonplussed changeling's wide-eyed confusion. “I... what?”
Featherfall couldn't help but giggle at the odd expressions crossing the changeling's face. More giggling? Drunk already? It was a sobering thought. Getting caught in the office drunk off a bottle she'd stolen from the lieutenant would likely be a career-ending ordeal. Perhaps fitting considering how her career had begun.
Returning from Flight School was like coming home from a long vacation to find that the dream was over and the dreariness of life was back, this time to stay. On the coach ride home all Frosted Lights could think about was telling all of her friends goodbye at Cloud Nine and having one last rootbeer float with the pegasi she'd grown to love. Three short years flew by so quickly. Nopony had come to her graduation other than Snowy. That was not abnormal though; ceremonies held on clouds were treacherous for unicorns and earth ponies. What was abnormal was the general lack of excitement upon her triumphant return.
“I'm back!” Frosted sang as she trotted into the living room. She was expecting a surprise party, but on some level she knew it wouldn't happen. Her mother was sprawled on the couch reading with a glass of wine in reach.
“Welcome home dear,” Merry said, looking up for just a moment.
Frosted tried to avoid looking disappointed. It was a skill she had once mastered, but had rusted in the veritable paradise of Cloudsdale.
“Something the matter?” Merry asked.
“Mother I graduated,” her crestfallen daughter explained.
Merry nodded. “Yes I heard; Snowy wrote. Congratulations dear.”
“You don't seem very excited...”
The book came to a rest on the end table and Merry rose from the couch. “Of course I am, you passed Flight School. I'm sure you'll find a nice job as just another weathermare.”
Frosted scowled.
“Shimmer your sister is home!” Merry called up toward the balcony. “Come say hello.”
“Just?” the pegasus asked, hurt.
“I love you Frosted,” her mother said. “That is why I must be honest with you. It's hardly prestigious work, the weather. Why, you'd be out in the sun all day with all sorts of ill-mannered rubes.”
“Those rubes are my friends!” her daughter shot back, indignant. “And it's honest work and very important to the kingdom!”
Her mother sipped at her wine. “I'm sure they told you all about that at Flight School. But listen, before you throw yourself into this... career,” she said with a disdainful sneer. “Why not talk to your sister? Or Blaze? They could get you in a respectable job at the palace.”
Shimmer poked her head around the corner. “Now, why would I do anything for her?” she asked snidely.
“Fine. I see how it is,” Frosted said, shrugging off her bag.
Merry shook her head. “Don't worry Frosted, I'll talk her into it. It'll be okay. She's family Shimmer, surely you'd do this for your sister?”
“No! No it is not okay!” the pegasus shouted, stamping her hoof. “All this family cares about is magic! Blaze and Shimmer get huge parties with all our friends and relatives. Then I come home from Flight School and you can't even stop drinking long enough to stand up and congratulate me. I was in the top five percent of my class! I graduated with honors! Or did you even know that?!”
Shimmer and Merry exchanged shrugs. Not even the decency to feign embarrassment? “Fine, magic. I can do magic you know. I learned a lot at school.” Frosted Lights plucked a feather from her wing and pressed the tip of it against her forehead. Thaumic energy locked it in place. The pegasus gritted her teeth and strained as a faint blue glow surrounded the feather. Unsteadily, as though in the grasp of a schoolfilly's magic, Merry's book rose wobbling into the air. It hung there for a minute, in the stunned silence. Panting, she dropped it back on the couch. “There,” she said, glaring at her sister in defiance.
Shimmer's eyes narrowed. “Is that it? A fake horn you can make use to make a book wobble?” She smirked, gripping the book in her own magic. It soared around the room, sparkling dust falling from the pages as the story took life in little holographic images on all the walls. Standing proudly among all her creations, she eyed her little sister up and down. “So you can fly and do magic. Ooh, so special! What do you think you are?” Shimmer asked, prodding at the glowing feather with her hoof. “A princess?”
“What? No I just...” Frosted Lights tensed up. The feather came loose and fluttered to the ground, drained of its icy blue color.
“I thought not,” Shimmer said coldly. “You're just a fake, Frosted.”
The blue-tone mare stood her ground. “Nopony ever said a pegasus couldn't be a princess.”
Shimmer smirked, a malicious grin crawling across her face. “That's just it. It doesn't have to be said.”
“That enough Shimmer,” Merry said, blissfully calm. “Think about helping your poor sister out, okay?”
Frosted Lights hung her head so low that all she could see was the spent feather lay limply between her hooves, mocking her. How could she have thought it would impress them? Everything was just the same as it had been when she left. “When will Dad be home?” she asked, dejected.
Shimmer rolled her eyes. “Daddy's little girl,” she scoffed. “He'll be back at the end of the week. You can cry to him then if you want. I'm sure Torch is around to pander to your inane fantasies if you want. Real school let out a week ago.”
By the end of summer Frosted had hatched a plan. Just three months out of Flight School and the pegasus found herself on a campus tour of the most prestigious magic school in all of Equestria, established by none other than Princess Celestia herself. For the past eight years it had been home to at least one of her siblings. Torch was due to graduate at the end of the fall semester.
The tour stopped in the library courtyard. Beneath the shadow of the grandest old building on campus, would-be students lined up to try their best at one of the school's many and varied entrance exams.
“Here at the Solar Library our librarians have gathered rare books from across the kingdom for the use of students and the public alike,” the tour guide said, reading from her script. She was trying hard to be enthusiastic, but it came off insincere. No doubt a side-effect of conducting the same tour several dozen times per week. “Every summer beneath the shadow of the Starspire Clock Tower, hopeful candidates line up to test their skills at one of the school's many and varied entrance exams! It is considered by most to be impossible to prepare for the exam, as the professors may ask whatever they wish of hopeful students. Today, Bullseye has set up the target accuracy test. Our school has trained many of Canterlot's most famous, including recent bearer of the Element of Magic, Twilight Sparkle!”
Frosted watched as unicorns fired bolts of magic at targets fifty meters out. Most of their shots went wide. Cheers erupted when anypony hit the mark. She slunk away from the tour to get a better look. Standing on the line the targets seemed so far away.
“Next!” Bullseye shouted.
“Uh.. that's me!” Frosted said, stepping up to the line. Her heart was racing.
“Name?”
“Frosted Lights!”
The recruiter's pencil whisked across his clipboard. “Alright, show me your...” he trailed off as he looked up. “...stuff?”
“Alright, here I go,” the pegasus said, scraping at the ground with her hoof.
“Wait wait wait,” the recruiter said, stepping over to her. Before the mare could even begin to protest he began parting her mane, digging through it invasively with both forehooves.
Frosted stamped her hoof in indignation, glaring at the unicorn recruiter. “I'm not an alicorn!”
“Well that's certainly clear,” he remarked snidely. The tour guide appeared at his side, wide-eyed and bristling.
“Ma'am what are you doing? You need to stay with the tour group.”
The pegasus rose to full height and looked her in the eye. “I'm trying out.”
“Is that... allowed?” the tour guide asked, looking to the recruiter for help. He just shrugged. There wasn't any harm in it. What was one more crater in the shadow of Starspire Tower?
Frosted Lights returned to her position on the line. The feather she plucked thrummed with energy, lightning skittering across the icy blue stem. She sat back on her haunches, squinting at the distant target with her wings flared to steady herself. Her missile became snared in the breeze, swerving wildly left and right before a final skyward loop ended with the feather buried in the chewed up soil like a little flag to commemorate her newest failure. As if on cue lightning lanced down from the sky, searing through the air and blackening the feather and surrounding ground with its withering heat. A lengthy stone's throw away, the target was completely unscathed. The pegasus drooped, then turned in surprise to the sound of applause.
“Very well done,” the recruiter cheered, grinning ear to ear. “I've never seen anything like it.
Frosted lit up, her hopes raised. “So I can get in?”
“No I'm afraid not.” He pointed toward the far end of the field. “You didn't hit the target.”
“How many pegasi can even get magic onto the field?” she asked.
Bullseye frowned. “While your talents are certainly unique, there are many other candidates who can hit the target. We cannot and will not make an exception for a student because she is a pegasus. You are judged by your ability alone, Miss Lights. I am sorry.”
Rejection was a bitter pill to swallow. Frosted's head sank, only to be gently lifted by the recruiter's hoof. “What?” she asked. Mentally she braced for the comeuppance. A demonstration of why she didn't belong. She could feel the gaze of Shimmer's characters surrounding her again, mocking her.
But he only smiled at her. “Just because you didn't hit the target today doesn't mean you won't ever. You have a very special talent Miss Lights. Everypony that lines up before me does or they wouldn't be here. But the test isn't to measure talent because talent alone does not make a great magician. The test is a measure of your commitment to developing your talent into something great. Train yourself up and refine your skills, and when you're ready, come back and try again.”
The pegasus nodded slowly. She wanted to say that he was wrong, that she was worth the effort, that an exceptions could be made for an exceptional candidate, but feather to horn she was the least among those standing there and despite all wishes, this fact remained.
“Thanks...” She turned and slunk away.
Frosted found solace at a run-down campus bar with few distinguishing features. It was heavily laden with sports memorabilia, reeked of alcohol, and was crammed full of failures like her. Dimly lit and filthy, it was hardly Cloud Nine. The lone pegasus slid into a booth and waited for her waitress.
“Welcome to the Extra Circular,” she said when she arrived.
“Extra 'Circular'...?” the pegasus asked, squinting at the sign. She brushed a lock of her dark-blue mane out of her field of vision, but the letters on the sign refused to change.
The waitress grinned. “Nopony can pronounce 'curricular' by the end of the night! Now, if you don't mind my saying. You look a little blue.” She snickered.
Frosted scowled.
“It's just a joke...”
“I failed the entrance exam,” the pegasus explained. For a unicorn it would have gone without saying. The real party was over at the Lightning Rod. She could see it down the street, bustling with energy and vitality.
“Uh.. right,” the waitress said uncertainly. “I'll get you the house special okay?”
“Yeah sure.” The waitress left. All around Frosty were wouldn't-be students like herself. Comforting each other, telling them how it didn't matter.
“I knew I wouldn't get in but everypony gives it a go, right?” one was saying. Was he lying to himself? Had he known? The pegasus certainly thought she had a chance. Quietly she nursed her drink until somepony slid into the booth across from her.
“Don't see many pegasi in the Extra Circular,” he said. He was a unicorn, yellow as the sunrise with a brick red mane. “I'm Sunspot.”
Frosted eyed him up and down. “Frosted Lights. I failed the entrance exam. My brother, Torch, said this is where everypony goes afterward.” She took a long draught from her glass. “If they fail,” she added bitterly.
“Yeah me too,” he said. He waved the waitress down for a drink. “I'm told its a lot about horn position. I kept my head down, probably why my fireball hit the ground short. But I hear almost everypony does the first time.”
Frosted shrugged her wings. “My brother Torch didn't.”
Sunspot eyed her curiously as he drained the glass placed in front of him. “Is he a pegasus too?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Unicorn.”
“My sister's a pegasus,” he said, eager to keep the conversation moving along. “I don't think she's got a spark in her though. How close did you make it?”
Frosted stared into her drink, stirring it idly. “About half way down the field.” When she looked up, Sunspot had his eyes on her. He was brimming with curiosity. “Uh, yes?”
“How do you do it? Without a horn I mean,” he asked, fixated.
“My feathers,” she said, spreading her wings behind her. “I figured it out when I was really young. Just recently decided it might be worth getting some training.”
“Amazing!” he said, grinning. “And they didn't let you in? They don't know what they're missing! What all can you do?”
A smile appeared on Frosty's face. Finally some recognition! “Well...”
Sunspot raised his hoof and waved at the waitress. “Another round for my friend and I!”
At some point the mare lost count of how many glasses she'd emptied. There were several on her side of the table, but the waitress had collected a few already. Sunspot had been regaled with the sum of her meager magical career and was wobbling a little as he climbed out of the booth.
“C'mon Frosted,” he mumbled. “It's last call and I wanna see how you do this. We'll go over to the library and show 'em. Show 'em what we're made of!”
The drunken duo found the gate shut and locked for the night. It was a symbolic gesture at best. The unicorn warped across it and stumbled as the ground beneath him seemed to wobble about. The azure pegasus came down harder than she had intended and nearly crashed into her partner in crime.
Sunspot didn't seem to be doing very well. He became very quiet and took slow, deliberate steps. They had almost reached the firing range when he lurched and suddenly raced off the path. Frosted could hear him retching in the bushes.
“I had.. a little too much...” he confessed guiltily when he returned. He flopped over in the grass and curled up. “Just gonna... rest a minute... let me catch my breath...”
The pegasus sat on her haunches and waited, only to be ultimately rewarded with the sound of Sunspot snoring softly. The firing range lay before them. She wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste.
“Horn position...” she repeated to herself. She plucked a feather and positioned it on her forehead. She stepped up to the line, lowered her head, and braced herself. Magic bubbled through her. A bright blue aura coursed through her feather-horn and coalesced into a glittering ball of white-hot flame. It sailed through the air on a weaving path and splattered across the dirt with a soft thud. The second went a little further, and the third nearly dripped down her muzzle, making a molten blob on the ground between her hooves. The feather, drained of color, fluttered down and landed in it, quickly reducing to little more than ash. She plucked another and continued on. Fwoosh. Boom. Hiss. Another three volleys and another feather gone. Gradually the fiery projectiles began to travel further. Minutes passed by in a blur of white and silver comets and feathers falling at her feet.
At some point in the night it finally happened. Amidst a veritable meteor storm a single glittering ball of white fire rocketed from the bedraggled pegasus' forehead and crashed into her distant target. Hot and sweaty and panting for air she was barely standing from the sheer exhaustion. Had her eyes deceived her? There in the pale silver light of the moon she could see smoldering wreckage where her target had been.
“I did it...” she said to the air, alone in her quiet victory. “I did it!”
But she was not as alone as she thought. “There! Get her!” somepony shouted.
Frosted whimpered. Oh right, trespassing. “Oh buck.” She bolted for the fence but a campus security officer suddenly warped into her path. She tried to leap over him, but nearly barreled into him when she made the unpleasant discovery that she couldn't find the air beneath her mutilated wings. She doubled back toward the library, sprinting at full tilt. Again and again she found him blocking her way. At last she was pinned against the library wall. Nowhere to run. There was a window above her head, but it was barred.
“Freeze!” the guard commanded. His horn began to crackle with electricity. “You're under arrest!”
“Not good...” the panicky mare repeated frantically. She hopped up against the wall and smashed the window. In went a feather. The guard's magic crackled against the stone where she'd just been standing. She plucked one last feather and closed her eyes tight. Vertigo took her and she found herself stumbling to regain her balance inside the locked up library. Her lungs ached and her wings ached, pain throbbing within them at every motion. Through the bars she could see the guard vanish. An instant later he was standing before her. She gave him a sorrowful look, trying to hold her head up as she panted for air. Nausea had gripped her. There would be no more running.
“I hit...” she said, gasping. “The target...”
And then she saw the crackle of lightning racing toward her. She cried out as she went rigid, then crumpled to the ground and curled into a fetal position. With fading vision she saw the last feather fall from her forehead and alight on her leg. She tried to smile. Victory.
Word got around about the pegasus that could warp. The incident landed her in the hospital for three days and the report eventually brought her to Crackshot's desk, with 100 hours community service and then the potential for a new and exciting career in law enforcement. It seemed a little backward to the young mare, but the Magical Crimes Unit was a new idea and it came with new rules. A clean record didn't seem to be one of them.
A sharp jab in her ribs brought Featherfall around. Coldhorn was eyeing her with concern. “You drifted off there Featherfall,” the changeling warned. “You should go home and get some sleep.”
The pegasus tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Coldhorn? How are you still sober?”
The other agent shrugged in answer. “Go home.”.
“Thanks...,” Featherfall answered wearily. “I think I will.”
Featherfall trotted along the busy train platform dragging a bag along behind her as she struggled to find her way through the crowds of ponies traveling for Hearth's Warming. She watched with a smile as traveler after traveler found their loved ones amongst the sea of colorful faces. Everywhere around her was joy, ponies crying out greetings to one another and embracing. Finally it was her turn when she caught a glimpse of orange coming through the crowd.
“Torch!” she called out, waving. The stallion's eyes lit up as his sister galloped toward him with her bag bouncing along behind her. The harness broke loose a few feet shy and the bag skid to a halt as she tackled him, wrapping her forelegs around his neck.
“Frosty! It's so good to see you!” he said, hugging her tightly.
Featherfall dropped back to all fours and quickly collected her bag. “It's been too long,” she admitted guiltily.
Torch only smiled. “You're here now,” he said. “That's all that matters. Let me get that for you. There's a coach waiting for us.”
The beat-up luggage hovered into the air and followed after the unicorn as he led it, and his sister, off the platform. In the sanctity of the coach his expression sobered.
“How have you been, Frosty?” he asked somberly. “I can still call you Frosty, right?”
“Of course you can Torch,” she said softly.
“So how are things? Everything's okay, right?”
She couldn't help but sigh. Of course he had heard about the altercation with Shimmer. “I'm fine, Torch, really.” She smiled for him, but the concern in his eyes remained.
Eager to change the subject Featherfall dug into her satchel and pulled out a little box, nearly wrapped and adorned with a cheery red bow. “I got you something!”
“Aw you didn't have to do that,” Torch said.
Featherfall could feel her brother's telekinesis taking hold, but she didn't let go. “You have to wait until tomorrow,” she explained.
The unicorn chuckled. “Well alright, I suppose I can wait.” A glint caught his eye. “Is that your badge?”
She traced his gaze into her satchel. “Uh... no,” she said. Quietly she withdrew the item lying on top. A silver horn file with a gold-inlaid handle. The ruby in the center had caught his eye, as it so often did.
Torch seemed bewildered by the item held before him. “Is that your old horn file?” he asked, nose wrinkled in confusion.
“I use it as a letter opener,” she explained. All at once her throat felt a little dry. “Snowy used to write me, twice a week.” Despite long disuse, there was still a bit of red wax stuck between the file's ridges. Featherfall couldn't say which letter had provided it; there had been so many. She couldn't take her eyes off of it until she felt her brother's hoof on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath and put the file back into her satchel. “Yeah,” she lied. “I'm fine. I promise.”
If Featherfall found herself jobless, Torch would be there for her. He always had been, as long as she could remember. In the back of her mind a memory lingered of a young filly about to have a very bad day.
As a blossoming young pegasus she found her wings developing into the splendor of adulthood. New flight feathers emerged at a near-frantic rate, replacing those that were old or broken. A light blue carpet of feathers strewn like flower petals lead to a gangly adolescent pegasus rather than an altar.
A brush on her vanity had a few broken feathers snagged between its bristles, but trying to snag all of the loose feathers with the brush was like trying to scratch an itch on the center of her back. She freed more feathers wallowing on her back on her bedroom floor than she did with the clumsy tool. Frosty preferred a more traditional method of preening. Her nightly ritual began with her primaries and worked meticulously through the rest of her feathers, freeing the well-worn and broken with a gentle tug.
The door was shut tight as a matter of habit; one of several small steps Frosty took to avert her mother's attention from her grooming habits. Despite her best efforts, somehow Merry always found out. One evening her mother decided to put an end to her clandestine preening.
Frosty wandered into her room shortly after dinner and started to push the door shut behind her. Only, she didn't hear the latch click. One of the servant mares had caught the door and nosed it back open. A second, much younger mare followed close behind. She was only year or so older than Frosty.
An irate Frosty scowled at the intruders. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded.
The young servant looked uncertain of herself. She opened her mouth to say something but was cowed by her supervisor's withering glare.
“Just get it done,” the older said.
“What's going on? You can't just barge in here!” the indignant pegasus shouted, raising a hoof toward the door.
The younger mare paused long enough to give Frosty an apologetic look and circled behind her.
“Your mother's orders,” the older explained.
A little while later Torch found her huddled on her bed, trembling. Her spread wings hung limp at her sides, a small rivulet of blood trickled down one side, staining blue feathers an ugly purple before dripping onto the bed.
“Frosty? ...Are you okay?”
“They're too rough,” she whimpered.
Torch's eyes were drawn to the brush. A few healthy feathers were caught in it, ripped out by the servant's mad rush and inexperienced touch, made worse by her bawling and struggling charge.
“I don't know how Mom found out...” she said, sniffling.
Torch frowned and placed a sympathetic hoof on her shoulder. “The brush leaves a pattern,” he said. He lifted it off the table and gently ran it along the grain of his sister's wing, picking up several mangled feathers. “Just relax,” he said softly. “I'll take care of it.”
Featherfall shuddered a little as the memory passed. The new ritual became a somber bond between them, fellow prisoners living beneath the iron hoof of Merry Lights. The burden rested heavy on their shoulders. Sometimes surviving was the best revenge.
“So... are you going to go see Mom?” Torch asked, breaking the silence.
Featherfall looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second horn. “What? No. Are you crazy?”
The stallion looked contritely at the floor. “Right, sorry.”
“I didn't think she was even talking to you,” she said, watching for his reaction.
He frowned toward his hooves. “She came looking for me yesterday. Said you were up to your old antics.”
My 'antics'...?” Featherfall asked.
Torch lifted his head and looked her in the eye. “Frosty, they arrested Candle Nights yesterday for Waxworks' murder.”
“What?” Featherfall blinked a few times and shook her head back and forth. Had she heard him right? “Candle? That doesn't make any sense. Candle couldn't... wouldn't do a thing like that.”
“He was going to sell to Waxworks,” her brother explained. “The family business has been going downhill. He told me himself a few weeks ago. Waxworks was a good guy. Offered to buy him out at a premium. Only problem is, they hadn't got it started yet. So there's no paperwork, nothing.”
The detective sighed and looked out the window. The fields she had played in as a child were drift past. “And of course the business will bounce back now that Waxworks is gone which gives Candle Nights a good motive in Foresight's eyes.”
“Mom's been talking with Blaze and Candle for weeks about it. Maybe if you talked to them...”
A sharp glare from Featherfall silenced him.
“I'm just trying to help,” he said dolefully.
Featherfall sighed. “I know,” she said. “But it doesn't matter. I'm off the case. Me being involved at all jeopardizes the integrity of the case. I'm already in trouble over turning up in that warehouse with Shimmer.”
“You got in trouble for that?” he asked in disbelief.
Featherfall nodded. “Yeah,” she said sadly. “A lot.”
At last the coach came to a stop in front of a little cottage nestled in the hills. “This is the place!” Torch announced. He scrambled out of the coach and settled up with the driver while Featherfall retrieved her luggage. She had it halfway up the cobblestone path before it lifted off of its own accord and fell in step behind her brother. He grinned as he trotted past.
“You're going to love it,” he said cheerfully. “I just got the place finished a few months ago. The guest room is in the back. In case it gets chilly I put an extra blanket in there.”
“Featherfall smiled as she explored the modest halls. “It's very nice,” she said. “Suits you well. Now you just need a mare to share it with!”
“Actually,” Torch said with a grin. “I'm seeing somepony. Her name is Melody. She'll be by tomorrow. You'll love her!”
“I'm sure I will,” she answered. Out the guest room window was a snow landscape interrupted only by a two-story home with smoke pouring from its chimney.
“Shimmer lives there with her boyfriend, River Run. He's...” Torch hesitated. “Well I've only met him once.”
Featherfall arched a brow. “Didn't like him?”
Torch shook his head. “Gave me a bad vibe. Hardly said a word. They came by when I finished the cottage. Haven't seen them since. Good riddance if you ask me,” he sneered.
“What about Blaze?”
Torch frowned. “He's not really around much. Lives in the old house with Mom. At the rate he's going he's going to work himself to death.” Just like Dad, seemed to hang in the air, unsaid but still heard. Hesitant glances communicated understanding.
“She can't know I'm here,” the pegasus warned. “Crackshot wasn't happy about me coming to visit, but you're not a suspect in the case and you're family and I'm not on the case so... but if something happens, I stand to lose my job over it. Okay?”
Torch's face twisted up in confusion. “Shimmer's a suspect?”
“What? No. I don't know. I don't think so. I'm not on the case. But she was in the warehouse and she works for Candle. So...”
“Like I said, I haven't seen her in months. It will be fine.” His tone was reassuring but the pegasus couldn't help but think of the badge in her luggage. It was hers to lose.
The siblings were cleaning up after dinner when a knock came at the door. Featherfall bristled as she cast an anxious glance toward the window. Shimmer's house loomed threateningly close on the horizon. “Expecting somepony? Melody?”
Torch started for the door. “She has a key...”
Featherfall started for the opposite hallway. From the guest room she could hear the argument advancing down the hall.
“You can't just barge in like this!” Torch protested. “This is my home”
“And I am your mother!”
A fire flared up in Featherfall's gut. She sat in the middle of her room, just waiting for the door to slam open. Merry did not disappoint.
“Frosted Lights!” Merry growled. “What do you have to say for yourself?!”
Torch stood just behind her and mouthed an “I'm sorry!”
The pegasus met her mother's gaze with a cold and unflinching glare. Righteous indignation boiled just beneath the surface. “My name,” she said evenly, “is Featherfall. And I have nothing to say to you.”
Merry straightened to full height and glowered at her daughter. Her breath reeked of alcohol. “You are a part of this family, Frosted Lights. Now you listen to me. What you have done to your uncle, your sister, your brother; your own flesh and blood is... is... Well you simply must call off this frivolous investigation!”
“I will not!” Featherfall snapped.
The older mare hung her head. “You were such a good girl before we sent you away to Cloudsdale. I never should have let you go. You changed so much in those few short years. Your grandmother poisoned you against us and this is how you repay our love. Accusations and investigations? There are detectives questioning your poor sister right now! On Hearth's Warming Eve!”
“Your... love...?” Featherfall asked, her voice shaking. Her entire body began to tremble. “Your love?” The word felt like an obscenity on her tongue.
Merry nodded somberly.
Featherfall's voice dripped with venom as she pawed at the ground. “You sent photos of Harmonica to our relatives. You sent them pictures of the maid's daughter and called her your own. I was your great shame. I didn't...” Her voice cracked. “I didn't know what it was like to be loved until I went to Cloudsdale!”
Merry's visage darkened. “You see? You see what she's done to you? I taught you culture and grace. An appreciation for the opportunities your dear father and I provided you. She gave you what you wanted, but I gave you what you needed.”
“Mother...” Torch warned, stepping up beside her..
Merry shot him a dirty look. “This is between your sister and I,” she said.
Torch stamped a hoof. “This is my house. You will not come in here and treat my guest this way!”
Hot, wet tears streamed down Featherfall's cheeks. “I'm going,” she said and turned to face the biting cold just outside the bedroom window. An icy blue feather found its way through the crack beneath the latch. She took a deep breath, hesitating as she stared into the unwelcoming dark. In the last moment she turned back to Torch with remorse swimming in her eyes.
“I'm sorry,” she said raggedly. With a quiet flash of light she vanished into the night, leaving a single white feather hanging in the air. Its fluttering descent to the floor came to a slow halt in the delicate grip of Torch's soft orange aura.
He presented it to Merry with his face twisted in rage, nostrils flared. “You. You should never have come here tonight.”
Wealth; culture; prestige; well-bred; class. All words associated with the Lights family. But nopony in Cloudsdale knew of the prestigious unicorns living in the golden hills of faraway Canterlot. She was just another would-be weathermare. Three years of Flight School. Three years of respite. For the first time in her life, Frosted Lights had finally found everything she really wanted. School brought homework and studies, friends and adventures. Sure, they were great, but they were not new ideas to the young pegasus. Snowy Sunrise brought something to the table that the young filly had never felt before.
Snowy Sunrise was a pegasus with fur as white as her namesake and an indigo mane as wild as the skies. Even in her old age she had a youthful sparkle in her eye. Every evening when Frosted came home, her grandmother would be there with dinner on the table. Snowy was a tutor and a confidant; somepony with a wing to cry under when things went poorly; somepony to cheer her on to victory.
Graduation was a bittersweet pill. The decision to return home would haunt her for years. Why? Why go back...? But then the letters began to arrive. Twice a week with clockwork regularity. The two shared adventures, successes, sorrows... Frosted Lights kept each and every one. But then... then came the letter that she had long dreaded. It was a silent horror buried deep in the back of her mind beneath a misty veil of willful ignorance.
Frosted Lights:
It is our sad duty to inform you that this morning at around 10 AM, Snowy Sunrise was found to have passed away in her sleep. You have our deepest condolences in this time of great loss. Please contact us post-haste to make funeral arrangements.
~Sunstrike,
Cloudsdale Hospital
Two days later she stood in front of a great picture of Snowy Sunrise, in all the beauty of her youth. Frosted Lights barely recognized her grandmother save that loving smile and her bright blue eyes, brimming with excitement. Beside it was the coffin. Her eyes felt like lead weights, heavy with tears as she looked up at the picture. Finally she pried her eyes from Snowy's smile and let them fall on the coffin: the final resting place of Snowy Sunrise. The priest rested a gentle hoof on the bereaved pegasus' shoulder. He looked uncomfortably around the near-empty room. The only other mourners were a few old mares from Snowy's apartment building. Frosted barely recognized them.
“I... we need to start soon...” he said with some hesitation.
Frosted nodded slowly, mouth shut tight. It was all she could do to keep herself together. She took her place on the front row, eyes fixed on the coffin. The priest began to speak but she didn't hear. She was lost in a cold, numbing fog deep in her own mind. All those days in Cloudsdale, gone forever. There would be no more letters. When the ceremony was over the priest gave her a hug, said Snowy was in a better place, and quietly excused himself. The old mares shuffled out after him.
The lone pegasus was frozen, sitting on the front row. Staring straight ahead through bloodshot, watery eyes. After a while she heard hoofsteps behind her, but she didn't turn to look. She couldn't look away. This was it, the last page in the story of Snowy Sunrise, and it would end on the whim of her granddaughter, when she turned and walked away.
“Frosted,” her mother said. “It's time to go dear. We need to pick your father up at the office.”
“You missed it...” Frosted said distantly.
Her mother sat beside her, studying the unfamiliar portrait. “We hardly knew her, dear. She wasn't really part of the family.”
The pegasus shuddered, trying to keep it together. “She was... part of the family...” she said, her voice quavering and hitching. “She took... care of me...”
“We paid her for your food and housing,” her mother explained. “She was just glad to have some company in her twilight years.”
“No...no you don't... You don't understand... ” Frosted turned from the coffin and looked her mother in the eye, backing away. “She... she loved me! She loved me!” She shouted, her voice choked with sobs. She turned and threw herself onto the coffin and buried her head against the polished wooden lid, sobbing. “She loved me!”
Her mother stood placidly behind her, waiting for the tears to stop. “You're overreacting dear,” Merry said, finally tugging her away. Frosted could smell wine on her breath.
“No! No I won't go with you! You're horrible! You didn't even come for her funeral! You were at home drinking!” She struggled out of her mother's telekinetic grip and brandished a feather. Lightning crackles ominously through it. “You're a monster!”
Merry opened her mouth to protest but her look of shock quickly gave way to indignation. “I don't have to take this,” she said. She turned and walked out, leaving her youngest lying on the floor, pouring out her grief to an empty room.
When the bereaved pegasus returned home she found a letter waiting. The following day she answered it in person at the Magical Crimes Unit headquarters.
“It's a new unit, focusing solely on crimes that are magic in nature or with connection to the crown,” Crackshot explained. “We have two positions left to fill and we'd like to offer you one. Now, there is the problem of your past criminal record: trespass on royal holdings and resisting arrest. Looks like you got off easy on it. We need to put forth a good appearance Miss Lights and that means squeaky clean. But a magic pegasus is too rare to pass up. So we've pulled some strings and the job would come with a new name and a clean slate. It's not glamorous work but it would put those talents of yours to use for the good of the kingdom. Think about it, and let me know in the morning.”
After a long night of soul-searching she returned and went straight into Crackshot's office.
“Good to see you,” he said, looking up from his work. “Have you made a decision?”
Frosted Lights nodded. “I have. I would like to take the job.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” the lieutenant said. “Settled on a new name?”
Through the night the sharpest of her memories revisited her each in turn. Showing off her tricks for the first time at Cloud Nine; Shimmer's rebuke; Standing on the firing range sweaty and sore, feathers falling down around her like snow, the color drained away with their magic. “Featherfall.”
'Frosted Lights' died with Snowy Sunrise, there on the floor of the funeral home.
Huddled by the chimney, Featherfall gazed into the white-hot center of a flickering blue flame burning atop a feather floating before her. It gently warmed her face and chest, softly burning away the stinging cold of winter's night. Below she could still hear her mother and brother shouting accusations at each other. Across the field in the failing light of evening she could see Foresight and Swansong emerge from Shimmer's house. A carriage waited to take them back to the train station.
Shimmer watched from the patio until they were gone, squashing Featherfall's chances of catching up to say hello. She went inside and returned a few minutes later with a dark blue stallion at her side. The two started down the road together. Featherfall's imagination plagued her with sordid conjurings of the sort of stallion that might take interest in somepony like Shimmer.
At long last Merry went on her way and Torch ventured out into the night to look for his sister. The gentle blue haze of her light made her easy to find.
He looked up at her with a deeply furrowed brow. “Mother's gone, finally,” he said bitterly.
“I heard,” Featherfall said. “I think all of Canterlot heard,” she added wryly.
“You're probably right,” her brother said with a chuckle. “C'mon, let's go inside. Aren't you cold?”
She joined him on the ground and flashed him a weak smile. “What, this? You should've seen me in blizzard training. Now that was cold.”
Featherfall struggled to keep her head up but ultimately found herself staring blankly into the swirling, hypnotic wooden grain of her desk. The report lay open to the first page, unread.
“Late train?” Foresight asked.
Featherfall opened her eyes and wiped the drool from her chin. She couldn't remember falling asleep. She nodded slowly, eyeing the pair of steaming mugs of cocoa her partner was carrying. A wisp of steam trailed behind one of them as it floated into her waiting hooves, seemingly drawn by a magic of her own. “I thought maybe I could sleep on the way back. The mother in front of me thought so too. I think she could have slept through the train derailing with the way her foals were carrying on. I don't know how anypony can sleepy through that noise.”
Foresight shrugged off her complaints. “Have a nice Hearth's Warming?”
“I did,” Featherfall said, and smiled weakly. She brushed a stray lock of her mane out of her eyes and turned her attention back to the report. “Still working on the Sweet Bread case.”
“Any luck?” Foresight asked. He gathered up the crime scene photographs spread across the pegasus' desk and shuffled through them.
Featherfall shook her head. Any clues lurking in the photos or witness statements still evaded her, if they existed at all. “It's very strange.”
“So I hear. Still no sign of the father?”
“None at all,” she said wistfully.
“Any ideas?” he asked.
Featherfall shrugged. “They left their kid behind. He's annoying but not that annoying. My best guess? Whoever took Sweet Bread came back for Sourdough. Might've been using her to lure him outside. Unfortunately 'Punkin' Bread says they disappeared sometime in the night so our window is hours wide. Nopony the locals interviewed said they saw anything out of the ordinary.”
Foresight stacked the photos up and dropped them back on his partner's desk. “Well, stick with it. Somepony saw something. The answer is in there somewhere.”
A weary Featherfall was still looking for the same said answer when the air in front of her suddenly caught fire. On impulse she leaped back from her desk but the conflagration ended as abruptly as it had begun. From the tumultuous flames a single off-white envelope fluttered to the ground, miraculously undamaged from its spectacular arrival.
Blinking in surprise, Featherfall prodded at it, half expecting it to vanish in a similar puff of smoke and flame. When it didn't, she snatched it up and returned to her desk. Through the thin haze of dissipating smoke she could see Foresight staring in disbelief.
“What the buck was that?” he asked, slack-jawed.
“A letter,” Featherfall answered, turning the envelope over. A blob of cherry red wax held it shut. Across the front 'Frosty' was emblazoned in blue in tall cursive letters. “It's from Torch!”
Foresight harrumphed. “Does he have something against the postal system?”
Featherfall simply shrugged and eagerly dug the silver horn file out of her satchel. Little crumbs of wax rained across her desk as she sliced through the seal with a practiced flick. Her eyes scanned quickly over the letter inside.
Frosty!
It was so good to see you again this Hearth's Warming. I hope you liked Melody! She really liked you. I really enjoyed having you around. I hope that you did not let the unpleasantness with Mother ruin your good time. The last few years have been hard,I know, and I want you to know that if you need anything, you can always call on me. I'll write again soon, so don't forget to write me back! Come visit again soon!
With love,
Torch Lights
“Well?” Foresight asked, watching as Featherfall neatly folded the letter and slipped it into her filing cabinet.
“He's always been a little over protective of me,” Featherfall said. “Just checking up on me I think. My mother and I had a bit of an altercation...” she added sheepishly. “She dropped in on us Hearth's Warming Eve while you were at Shimmer's. Threw a tantrum and demanded I call off the investigation. She said we arrested Candle?”
“We have,” Foresight said. He averted his eyes from her searching gaze and busied himself shuffling through his notes. “It's a matter of public record,” he added.
Featherfall approached his desk and waited in quiet expectation. Her partner proved to be resilient to the tactic, only looking up once to confirm that she was, in fact, still there. “Are you going to tell me why?” she finally asked.
“No,” Foresight answered without looking up.
Featherfall balked at his bluntness. “What? Why not?” she demanded.
Her partner heaved a sigh and jammed his quill into its inkwell. Now the senior detective's full attention was on her. “Because I like having you around, Featherfall. I like being your partner and I like working with you. So I'm doing what I can to keep you here and that includes not divulging critical information to you regarding a case you've been thrown off of due to conflict of interests. You're a good detective; I'm sure you can piece it together.”
“Everypony must have alibied out,” Featherfall said. Her gaze sank toward the floor as she slunk back to her desk in quiet contrition.
“This is why you're off the case,” Foresight said. He shook his head in dismay. “You're too emotionally involved. You're acting just like everypony we've interviewed that can't believe their loved one went Trottingham Butcher on somepony.”
But I know him better than that, hung on the tip of Featherfall's tongue. Twice she opened her mouth to say it, but thought better of it and willed it back
Foresight could see her thinking about it, the battle playing out subtly in her eyes. “That facts will come out eventually, Featherfall. They are what they are.”
Featherfall grumbled an incoherent response and returned her attention back to the Sweet Bread case file. She hated it when Foresight lectured her, particularly when she knew he was right. She buried herself in her work until Swansong and Coldhorn arrived, breaking the quiet stalemate between her and Foresight.
“Any luck with Riverrun?” Foresight asked.
Swansong frowned and shook her head. She stopped for a visit at the coffee pot on the way to her desk. “He wasn't home. Went by his place of business. They said he's out on vacation for Hearth's Warming. They're expecting him back in three days. Sounds like a stand up employee, if a bit impersonal. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What she means is dull and reclusive,” Coldhorn commented dryly. She slid the magazine from her sidearm and began counting out the rounds one by one as she lined them up on her desk. Each of the slender bullets gleamed with a soft red energy, even after the influence of the changeling's magic was removed.
“Thinking of getting certified?” she asked, noticing that she had caught Featherfall's attention.
The pegasus shook her head. “Not exactly practical for me,” she said. “So, you haven't interviewed Riverrun yet?” She looked around the room for an answer.
Coldhorn and Swansong cast questioning looks at Foresight. “We're getting to it,” he said defensively.
“No, I know,” Featherfall replied in a much more humble voice. “I didn't mean... I'm just... Why didn't you interview him when you were at Shimmer's?”
“He wasn't there,” her partner explained. From his tone she could tell he was running out of patience with her.
“But... he was there. I saw him,” Featherfall insisted. “He came out on the porch right after you left.”
“Really? Now that is interesting,” Swansong said, ears perking. “Your sister lied about her boyfriend being home. Why would she do that? Is she ashamed of him?”
Featherfall shrugged helplessly. “I've never met him actually.”She turned to her partner. “More importantly, how did he slip by you, Foresight?”
“Sometimes things fade into the background. It's like voices on a train or in a crowded restaurant. Too many sources blend together and you don't notice them as easily,” he explained. “I was having an off day, and on top of that if he was asleep or...”he trailed off, noticing that he had lost his partner's full attention. Featherfall's gaze had slowly turned to the yellow and blue-maned unicorn, then busily scrubbing the barrel of her thaumic pistol with a cleaning rag.
“Don't even let your mind go there, Featherfall,” Foresight warned. “Think about it long and hard. You're already on desk duty. If you start a changeling scare...”
“Hold on, hold on,” she said, rubbing her temple. “Just... give me a second. Let me think. If Riverrun is a changeling...”
“Me missing somepony isn't anywhere near sufficient grounds to accuse him of being a changeling,” Foresight warned.
“It is pretty rare though,” Swansong commented. “What if it fits the crimes? A changeling abducting mares.”
“The bakery is only a few blocks down the road from Waxworks',” Featherfall said. “It could be the same guy.”
Foresight started making two lists on the dusty old chalkboard, one for each victim and shook his head skeptically. “How can it? The crimes have very little in common. The Breads run a little bakery and Waxworks distributes all the way from Manehattan to Los Pegasus. Waxworks was attacked in the middle of the night; Sweet Bread mid-morning. The Breads have a strong marriage; Moonsong was having an affair.”
Swansong tugged the chalk away, their auras clashing silver and red before Fore's winked out. The mare added a few items to each column. “And yet they're within a few blocks of each other and in both cases we have a missing mare who was, to outward appearances anyway, in a committed relationship taken while the stallion was otherwise indisposed. They are also of similar age and well liked. So, if we assume the mares were the targets and remove the stallions from the picture completely...”
“Do changelings have a 'type,' though?” Featherfall asked, looking to the disinterested changeling for an answer.
Coldhorn started shoving rounds into her spare magazine, giving the spring in the primary magazine time to rest. “Yes,” she said. “Just like how you get the same mocha coffee every morning, Featherfall. Or Foresight, you and that dark Zebrican roast you always drink. Heh, this place goes through enough coffee to give a manticore the shakes.”
Featherfall bristled at the changeling's judgmental tone. “I don't drink THAT much!” Coldhorn pointed her sunflower yellow hoof, and Featherfall found her eyes drawn to the disposable coffee cups heaped up in her wastebasket. Every single one bore the smiling CoffeeBuck seapony. Flushing slightly, the pegasus wrenched her thoughts back on topic. “Well... fine. How do you wake up every morning?”
A smirk flit across Coldhorn's face as she looked sidelong at the questioning pegasus. "Road rage." She licked her lips coyly. “Dark, earthy, with just a hint of spice.”
Foresight studied the board, then sighed in defeat. “Okay, it's probably worth looking into,” he admitted.
“Probably?” Coldhorn sneered. She turned a sharp eye on the unicorn and marched toward him “What's the matter?” she snarled. “Think it's too much of a long shot? Not worth looking into? Maybe you're right. After all if one changeling were overlooked...” Her unicorn guise flickered and faded beneath a halo of emerald flames. “What's the worst that could happen?”
“I get your point,” Foresight said, meeting the changeling's steely-eyed gaze. She grinned devilishly, her fangs gleaming.
Swansong stepped between them. “Want me to run it by Crackshot?”
“No, I'll do it,” Foresight said, ears pinned back as he sulked away.
When he was gone Swansong turned to Coldhorn. “Happy?”
“Always,” the changeling crooned.
Over an hour had passed and Foresight still had not emerged from Crackshot's office. Featherfall worked in silence, trying to give the impression of dutiful attention to her notes, but her ears were perked toward the office door. The muffled conversation had brief moments of clarity when voices were raised, only to sink to a bare whisper when the stallions became conscious of their volume.
At last they came out, Crackshot leading the way. He cleared his throat but all eyes were already on him. “Do we have consensus that this could be a changeling?” he asked, looking around. Everypony quietly nodded. “Do we or do we not? I need an answer, not shrugs!”
Swansong spoke up first. “Yes sir.”
Crackshot nodded slowly and turned his gaze on the unicorn with a placid grin seemingly etched into her face. “Coldhorn?”
“It's a strong possibility,” she answered. “The behaviors fit.”
“Very well then,” he said gruffly. “We will move against the suspect immediately. It is in our best interests to bring him in before he gets into downtown Canterlot and disappears. Foresight and Coldhorn will lead. Swansong I want you to go with them as backup. The fewer agents we have in close proximity the less potential for him to use his shapeshifting against us. You all know the protocols: identity markers and passwords. This is an opportunity for us to shine, fillies and gentlecolts. Don't buck it up.”
* * *
Featherfall felt nervous energy brimming throughout her as she slipped onto the train in the early morning hours. She felt herself jump at every voice, her eyes darting rapidly back and forth as she rounded every corner. She came to one of the busier cars and ducked into an empty seat by a foggy window. From her satchel she tugged a small blanket, and wrapped herself up in it, pulling it up almost completely over her head. Through a little gap she watched the silhouettes of dark trees pass by and listened to the soft rhythm of the tracks below.
“What are you doing here, Featherfall?” she heard a familiar voice ask. Sleepily she stretched her forelegs, letting the blanket tumble off her in waves.
“Hmm?” she asked, enjoying the warm sun on her face. Her eyes shot open. Outside was the station and before her: Foresight. “Guh, Fore!”
“What are you doing here?” he repeated stiffly. Featherfall averted her eyes from his judgmental gaze, searching the ceiling and walls for an explanation. All she found was Coldhorn and Swansong, both bearing scowls.
Featherfall smiled sheepishly. “I... well, I was worried,” she admitted.
Foresight looked about ready to start tearing his own mane out. “Do you have any idea what you're doing?” he asked, sounding strained. “You could lose your job over this!”
“I do know what I'm doing,” she snapped. All at once she was out of her seat, nose pressed against his. Foresight's eyes widened and his ears drooped. “I don't have a lot of ponies in my life that I really care about, Fore. One's Torch and one's you. Now if you think I'm going to sit in that office all day and read witness statements when there's a...” she glanced back and forth and lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “If either of you ever finds himself walking into a room they might not walk out of, it's going to be with me standing next to them.”
Featherfall straightened up and took a step back, out of Foresight's personal space. “I don't want to lose my job,” she explained calmly. “But I'd rather lose that than you.”
The stunned stallion shook his head in disbelief. Blushing furiously he turned to each of his fellow agents. Swansong groaned and rolled her eyes. Coldhorn licked her lips and waggled her brow, then smirked at his disgust.
“Alright,” Foresight said, defeated. “Let's go.”
“Just let me get my stuff together,” Featherfall said, hurriedly stuffing her satchel full.
A brief flicker of flame, like a match being struck, was the only warning Featherfall had before a gout of hot flame coughed a letter onto her seat. She jolted upright and pawed wildly at her forelock to free it of embers.
“Uh... from my brother,” she announced sheepishly as she held up the letter for her equally startled co-workers. She chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of their unblinking stares. “We've uh... we've gotta work out a schedule on these...”
Later in the morning, Featherfall found herself once again on Torch's doorstep, this time with Swansong at her side. Torch emerged, blinking his confusion in the bright morning sun.
“Now, when I said 'come visit soon',” Torch said, looking back and forth between the mares on his porch. “I didn't mean 'in an hour,' Frosty.”
“It's complicated,” Featherfall confessed. “Can we come in?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, withdrawing from the door. His mood seemed to fade when the door swung shut, and the grave looks on his guests' faces registered. “This is serious, isn't it?”
His sister nodded slowly. “It is.”
“Put this on the bottom of your right front hoof,” Swansong said. A sticky wax token, thin as paper and no wider than a bit coin floated before the concerned stallion. “What's your name?”
“Torch Lights,” he answered automatically, his attention focused on the silver-maned mare attaching another of the sticky droplets to his left ear. “What are these for? What's going on?”
“Security,” Swansong said. “You are not to leave the house. Is that understood?”
Torch frowned, looking to his sister with pleading eyes. “Frosty? What's going on?”
“We need to use your guest room,” Featherfall answered. “I promise we'll explain everything as soon as this is over.”
The bewildered stallion nodded his head numbly. “Okay.”
Prone on the guest bed, Swansong was nearly invisible to the outside world. Snowflakes drifted in through the open window, clinging to her mane and lightly stinging her nose as she set to work assembling her tripod with practiced ease. Her breath came in even, misty puffs as she steadied her spyglass on the sill, poking out between the shutters.
“See anything?” Torch asked, his whispered voice barely audible over the cold wind whistling in through the window.
“They're on the patio,” Swansong narrated calmly. “Looks like there's no answer at the door.”
“So what happens now?” Torch asked, looking to his sister for information.
Featherfall leaned against the door frame, looking out at the idly falling snow. “We wait and let Fore and Coldhorn do their job.”
“They're circling around back,” Swansong announced. “Checking out the storm cellar.”
Mentally Featherfall traced her colleagues' path through the fresh-fallen snow. She could almost see Foresight, tugging the rusty cellar door open and descending into the dankness below. “Do they keep anything down there?”
Torch rubbed his chin. “Most of Dad's old stagecoach? Mother sort of crashed it last year... It was... well. You can guess how it was.”
“Nothing,” Swansong interrupted. “They're heading back this way. Get the door, would you? I'll keep an eye out for the suspect.”
“You still haven't told me what's going on,” Torch complained, following Featherfall into the hall. “Why am I wearing these ridiculous things? What are they?”
His sister hurried on to the door. “Identity markers. I'll explain in a minute. I promise.”
Foresight heaved a tired sigh and trudged inside, shaking the snow from his pelt.
“Ear,” Featherfall said, waiting patiently.
Foresight lowered his head. Featherfall brushed his ear down until she found a little baby blue token nestled discreetly within his fur.
“Find anything?” she asked.
“Nothing,” her partner grumbled. “This was an incredible waste of time.”
Featherfall hung her head, concealing her watery eyes. The failed changeling raid seemed an obvious final nail in the coffin of her brief career. “I'm...” she started to lift her head to face him eye to eye, but his hoof caught her attention and her voice caught abruptly in her throat. A little splash of blood, fresh and glistening, had stained his snow-white hoof. Featherfall felt as though her heart had stopped beating for a moment. She could think of only one reason it might be there. She knew she had lingered too long; 'Foresight' had already lowered his head to look. “I'm sorry...” she said, her voice ragged and breathless as she averted her eyes from the telltale blood, slowly turning to Torch. Trembling and wide-eyed with fear she braced herself. "Run!"
* * *
Featherfall awoke in darkness. She could feel herself dangling upside down, pendulously swaying to the plaintive creak of well-aged timbers. Her wings hung loose from gravity's pull, dangling past her head. On one side she could feel warm blood trickling off the tip of her wing, streaming down from an indiscernible source. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up at the ground below. Sprawled in the dust and blood, Sourdough stared back with dead, sightless eyes His body was pale and ashen, devoid of color. Something had gnawed his horn away, leaving little more than a broken stump. Beyond him Moonsong and Sweet Bread lay atop a heap of what looked to be four more bodies, all similarly faded and chewed.
Slowly the pegasus turned, a victim of the whims of the cold wind seeping in around the rusty cellar door. She felt the air catch in her throat when she saw the cocoons; four of them nestled in the corner. Trapped within their murky emerald haze, her colleagues and brother lay sleeping, perhaps to never wake again with their faculties intact. Her stomach crawled, twisting into knots.
“Ah good, you're awake,” Shimmer crooned.
“Shimmer! What have you done?” Featherfall snapped. Hate burned in her eyes as her sister's hoof spun her about and brought them nose-to-nose.
Shimmer's blackened face twisted into a cruel smile. “Dear sister! It is so good to see you. I was worried you wouldn't wake up in time. What was it we're supposed to call you now, Frosty? Feather... Featherhead? Princess Featherhead, wasn't it?”
“You're a monster, Shimmer!” Featherfall shouted, struggling with her bonds.
“A monster?” she asked, sneering. “Big words for one who sent a changeling to arrest me. She's not so far gone as she likes to pretend, you know. When we put her in the cocoon again, well...” Shimmer smirked wickedly and licked her lips. “You should have seen the fear in her eyes. Delicious.”
A figure detached from the darkness of the cellar wall and joined Shimmer before the dangling pegasus. “You do love to play with your food,” Riverrun said.
“I wanted her to know,” Shimmer said, grinning. She looked back up at her younger sister and stretched her gossamer wings. “Like them? They're real. Unlike that little horn of yours. Which reminds me! You're about to get that horn you always wanted.”
Featherfall had heard more than enough. She sprang to life, twisting and flapping furiously against the gooey mass binding her legs. Desperately she ripped a feather from her wing and flung it up into the rafters, sparks tumbling into her face in its wake. A silver comet blossomed against the ceiling, showering embers and slivers of rotten wood across the floor. Featherfall came crashing down and scrambled to get her footing.
“Just kill her!” Riverrun snapped. Shimmer's fireball very nearly did the job, but the nimble pegasus twisted violently out of the way, hurtling herself into the air amid another burst of searing heat and stinging debris. She scrambled desperately for purchase on the side of Foresight's chitinous tomb and tore into it with reckless abandon.
“Fore! Fore I need you!” she cried out. She could hear the changelings bearing down on her. Another feather exploded against the base of the cocoon, breaking it loose and propelling it into a heap of old carriage parts. Pungent ichor erupted all around the stallion as he found his freedom among the rubble. He tumbled down the pile and stopped suddenly as his leg slipped between the spokes of an old wheel. Foresight cried out in agony as his leg caught and snapped under the jarring force. Riverrun charged for the struggling unicorn, only to find the barrel of a thaumic pistol leveling in his direction.
Shimmer stopped dead in her tracks. “River!” she cried out in warning, far too late.
Deadly beams of ruby light screeched through the air. The first bolt caught Riverrun in the shoulder, spinning him broadside to the stallion and ending his charge. Two more deadly beams of light lanced through his chest, spattering his lifeblood across the floor. Carried only by his momentum, the changeling tumbled onto his side and shuddered in death.
“You! I'll kill you!” Shimmer shrieked. Her magic took hold of the weapon and she wrested with Foresight for control. Featherfall sent a silvery comet of searing flame toward her changeling sister. Shimmer fired back in answer, the volley from her own horn detonating against it in a dazzling burst of white-hot flame. The thaumic pistol fired wildly, punching smoking holes into the cellar walls as it twisted violently under the sway of competing wills. Spent cartridges, still aglow, tumbled across the floor until at last the weapon was empty. The changeling's aura took hold of the broken stagecoach and gave it a mighty heave, bringing the wooden mountain tumbling down over the injured unicorn.
Shimmer's full attention turned to the pegasus. “Now, you... I'll gouge your heart from your chest!” Shimmer roared. Bolt after bolt of fiery wrath rocketed toward her airborne opponent. It was all Featherfall could do to avoid being struck down. Her wings began to ache, liberated of too many critical feathers. She could feel her body slowing down. All at once her world went white. Shimmer's magic exploded against the wall right in front of her, enveloping her in fire and peppering her with debris. Blackened and bloodied, she rolled to a stop against the back wall with the ominous cocoons hanging just above her. The feather on her head sagged into her field of vision, its color almost fully drained.
Featherfall could only watch, struggling to regain control over her aching limbs as Shimmer stalked toward her with murderous intent. She raised her hooves in defense as her changeling sister sprang upon her, holding her satchel up to ward off the flurry of blows. Shimmer seized it in her jaws and yanked violently, rending it asunder. Bit coins, snacks, and baubles bled out through the tear, raining down around the struggling pony. A flash of silver caught her eyes as the horn file tumbled free.
Shimmer wrenched the satchel free of her grasp and flung it aside. The changeling growled savagely, licking her cruel fangs as she loomed over her fallen prey. She leaned in close, a sickly green aura glowing softly around her gnarled black horn. Featherfall could feel nausea grip her as her sister's magic started to take hold.
“Don't worry sister...” Shimmer cackled madly, her voice cold and grating. Her hate-filled eyes burned with an unholy green fire. “You won't feel a thing.”
Featherfall cried out and forced the horn file upward with all of the strength left within her. Shimmer lurched, eyes wide as she felt her strength flow out of her. Sickly green blood oozed like tar from a grievous gash in her throat. She stumbled back, working her jaw in voiceless horror. Featherfall darted out of her vengeful reach. The wounded changeling struggled to stay upright, her very life seeping out beneath the pressure of her hoof. She clawed and dragged herself toward her fallen lover, but fell short. Collapsing to the cold dusty floor, Shimmer breathed her last.
“Featherfall? Featherfall are you okay? What happened?” Foresight called frantically from where he lay. Ruined wagon parts shifted around him as he struggled to get his head above the sea of broken lumber. Featherfall could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Aches and pains made themselves known as the adrenaline began to subside.
“Shimmer is dead,” she answered, eyeing on the cocoons above her. Three slumbering ponies still awaited their salvation.
Featherfall stirred her second coffee mechanically, watching the foamy cap whirl about like a hurricane. She barely noticed Snowdust slide back into the booth across from her.
A fresh hot chocolate slid across the table between the pegasi nearly toppling as the magic propelling it along winked out. Snowdust blocked it with her hoof before it could sail off the other end of the table. She shot a dirty look at the teenage unicorn, now ducking behind the register. He waved a hoof and offered a nervous chuckle in apology.
Snowdust took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed in satisfaction. Featherfall looked up and smiled at her. “It's sort of like old times, isn't it?”
“Well it's not exactly Cloud Nine,” Snowdust said. She grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling in quiet reverie. “But it'll do. Anyhow, so what happened when you got back to the police station?”
Featherfall chuckled. “Oh we didn't go back to the police station. Crackshot met us at the hospital. The entire Magical Crimes Unit got put into quarantine for a month until they were sure none of us were changelings. I don't envy Coldhorn,” she added, grimacing at the thought. She wrinkled her nose and looked out the window. “We didn't see her again for almost a year. I wrote her a few letters while she was under lock and key, but she never wrote back. I'm not sure if they ever reached her. I asked her about it when she got out but she didn't want to talk about... well, anything. All in all, I'd say I made out pretty well.”
“Pretty well?” Snowdust asked, perking her brow. “Frosty that doesn't sound so good to me.”
“Well...” Featherfall stirred her coffee one last time and took a hefty draught, consuming the peppermint mocha hurricane. She grinned at Snowdust. “Well I was in quarantine, and Crackshot wasn't allowed in! Still...” she sighed softly and frowned. Four years later and it still stung. “I got canned the minute I got out. I had really hoped he would have had time to cool down by then.”
Snowdust's eyes bugged out and her jaw fell slack. “But... But! You saved them!”
“I did,” Featherfall said, smiling. “But I broke a number of regulations. I wasn't supposed to have anything to do with that investigation and I ended up stumbling into the hospital covered in Shimmer's blood. I compromised the investigation with my presence. I was lucky things worked out as they did. If Shimmer and Riverrun had not turned out to be changelings they might have got off with seven counts of murder because of me.”
Featherfall stared into her coffee for a few moments, lost in the memories of all those other cases with Foresight. When she looked up, Snowdust was frowning at her dolefully. She could find no words of comfort for her friend.
“I don't regret it though,” Featherfall amended. She forced a smile. “I knew what the cost might be if I went, but I knew what it might be if I didn't. I had to make a choice and I'm okay with that.”
Snowdust nodded slowly, shifting uncomfortably. “Why didn't you come to me earlier though? I could have got you a job on my team years ago, Frosty.”
Featherfall shrugged her wings. “I kind of hoped I could get my job back, once Crackshot cooled off... but that never really happened. I still see most of them now and then around Canterlot. Though it's not exactly uplifting to chat with my replacement. He's... eh... another unicorn. A real go-getter, I'm told. Drives Foresight nuts.”
Snowdust chuckled quietly. “Do you still see him?”
Featherfall tried hard not to grin, but the struggle only made it worse. “Actually...” she said, and dug into her satchel. She came up with a silver chain and held it up for Snowdust to see. The ring dangling from it bore Foresight's mark in shimmering rubies. “I've been seeing him quite a lot!” she announced, grinning ear to ear.
Snowdust gasped, reaching out to still the swaying bauble. “Frosty! When did this happen?!”
“He asked me last night before I left for Hearth's Warming at Torch's,” Featherfall said and tittered softly to herself. “I think he was less nervous the day he went charging in after Shimmer.”
“Congratulations!” her friend cheered. “Why didn't you say so sooner?! You should be wearing this!”
Featherfall chuckled as Snowdust slipped the chain over her head. She beamed, feeling it resting gently against her chest. “Well...” she said. “I want to surprise Torch and Melody with it. So I was planning on showing up with it in my bag and then sneaking it on right before dinner.”
“Oh ho, that will be a surprise alright!”
“Mm hmm,” Featherfall said, nodding. The former detective looked out the frosted-over window. Snowflakes sparkled like a million little diamonds as they fluttered down in the failing evening light. “I think it's time for a new start, Snowdust. I'm really looking forward to it.”
“Bright and early next Monday!” Snowdust reminded.
Featherfall slipped out of the booth and stretched all her wings and back at once. “Speaking of, I'm due at Torch's in about an hour. I should really head that way. Thanks again, Snowdust,” she said, smiling back at her friend. “For everything.”
* * *
A filly sat alone on the patio out in front of Torch's little stone cottage, watching the carriages go by. Minutes dragged on like hours as each drew close to the Lights residence, only to rumble steadily past the drive without stopping. Scherzo marked each failure with a skyward groan of discontent and a stamp of her hoof. The little pegasus had nearly given up hope when Featherfall's carriage finally rolled up to the drive and stopped. She pranced back and forth, hooves barely touching the ground as she wrestled with running toward the carriage or back inside to announce her aunt's arrival. At last she settled on a harried shout “Spark! Spark! She's here!” and then dashed off through the snow.
Featherfall's bag hovered behind her, gripped in a soft indigo aura, tethered to the sympathetic glow of the feather atop her forehead The driver slouched against his carriage, scowling at her balefully. “It's not 'freakish' and I'm not trying to get out of the tip.” Featherfall barked crossly.
“Well?” the driver asked, his upturned hat floating out to her.
“You called me freakish!” she said, eyes filled with vitriol.
The driver narrowed his eyes at her. “So that's your game?”
Featherfall worked her jaw for a moment, but no words were coming out. She dug into her satchel and produced a few shimmering coins. They had almost made it to the hat when she heard Scherzo's joyous cry.
“Aunt Featherfall!” the filly shouted. Featherfall turned her head just in time to see the little red fireball of a pegasus hurtling toward her. The older mare's magic flickered out as her niece crashed into her chest, knocking her into the snow. Coins and luggage rained down around them.
Featherfall brushed the snow from her muzzle and looked up at the exuberant filly bouncing up and down on her belly. “Oomph, okay okay you got me,” she said, struggling to right herself. Scherzo hopped free and bounced around her in circles as they made their way up the walk. Spark met them at the door.
“You're supposed to get her bags!” the little unicorn protested, wide-eyed. He ran past to get them, only to end up dangling from them as Featherfall lifted them up and brought them into the entry hall.
Featherfall leaned down between them, grinning ear-to-ear. “So how are my two favorite foals!”
“It's Hearth's Warming!” Scherzo shouted as she reared up on her hind legs and rolled her hooves in the air.
“Yes, yes it is,” Featherfall said, smiling at her brother as he appeared in the doorway. “Happy Hearth's Warming, Torch. You have quite a welcoming committee this year!”
“Hey sis,” Torch said, smiling back. “Glad you could make it. We were starting to worry that Snowdust had put you straight to work!” He peered out the window by the door. “It's really coming down out there.”
“Mm hmm,” Featherfall said, scooping up her bag. “I'm not too late for dinner, am I?”
Torch chuckled and stole a greedy look toward the kitchen. “We kept it warm for you; Melody insisted that we wait.”
“Alright, just let me put my things in my room and I'll be right out, okay?”
“Okay,” Torch said, smiling back. “C'mon kids, get to the table!”
Torch's foals scurried out with their father in quick pursuit. Featherfall withdrew to her room and heaved her bag into the corner. A familiar chill hung in the air, reminiscent of all the Hearth's Warmings she'd spent in the little cottage with her brother and his fledgeling family. The window over the bed had never been particularly tight. Her breath fogged the pane as she looked out into the slowly-building snowbank. Many years had passed since the night she warped out into that dark, snowy field and Torch found her huddled on the roof.
Featherfall plucked her ring from her satchel and held it up to watch it glint in the silver moonlight. With the ring dangling from her neck she took a deep breath, and stepped out into the kitchen's warmth.
A Light that Shines in Darkness is the Light that Shines Brightest, and a Heart filled with Courage can Weather any Storm.
