//------------------------------//
// Chapter 6 - Letting Our Manes Down 
// Story: Adventures in the Weather Patrol 
// by Blade Star 
//------------------------------//

After the whole near miss incident, I took a week off from the patrol. Dash pretty much ordered me to. While I don’t like to admit it, the whole thing shook me up pretty bad. After all, I did only miss getting electrocuted by the skin of my teeth. My nerves were shot for a couple days afterwards. The same thing happened to Thunderlane. Even with his many years of experience, the knowledge of just how close he came to meeting his maker put him decidedly out of sorts.

     Hell, if I’m honest, everypony was shook up by the whole thing. We only got about half of our usual workload done. Everypony was hypervigilant and safety conscious, and we weren’t about to do any storm work. Luckily, the next few weeks were slated to be fairly quiet, so it didn’t cause too much of an impact.

    Like I said, after a couple days of this, Dash told me, as well as Thunderlane, to take a few days to get our heads right. I still flew of course. As long as I stayed away from dark clouds, I was fine. I could still fly and stunt with the best of them. But around storms, or big weather systems, I would get on edge.

     Luckily for me, I had a lot of people around to support me. Aside from Dash and my friends in the patrol, my parents both did their best to help me out, dropping by to see me whenever they could and watching my flying practice. Fluttershy and her friends did the same thing too, including Dash, who stopped by over her lunch break to talk. As the patrol CO, and national hero, she’d been through more than a couple close shaves that had kept her up at night. The same could be said for Fluttershy. The two pegasi gave me advice on dealing with my sudden anxiety and slowly but surely, I got back to it.

     My dad had told me that the worst thing I could do was stop flying or working with weather. I needed to get back in the saddle, confront what had scared me, and move on, before it had a chance to do any lasting damage.

     By the end of the week, I was back to something like my old self and assured Dash that, while I would never forget that particular day, I was happy to return to work. Thunderlane too was eager to get back to it, although he now had a far less relaxed attitude to storm flying, a fact which only strengthened everypony’s trust in him.

     Next Monday, we both triumphantly made our return to the patrol and were added back on to the duty roster. A quick run down by Dr. Horse at Ponyville General cleared us both as medically fit for weather work both physically and psychologically.

     We were back in business.





    A week later, and things had pretty much returned to normal. We’d had to deal with a bit of a backlog of work when I first got back. After all, that entire storm had to be abandoned, which had a knock on effect on the weather in the future.

     It had been a couple of hard days, but we were now back on track, with all six of us working as one team again. Rainbow was still with us and in charge, although she did have to disappear every now and then to do stuff at Wonderbolt HQ as part of her probation. She’d told us all what happened, since Thunderlane and I had missed the show. Flight even said that, since he always had his nickname, that maybe Dash should start using her Wonderbolt call sign when on patrol. So every now and then, Dash was jokingly referred to as ‘Crash’ by us all, in a nice way of course.

     Dash joked back saying that at some point she’d think of nicknames for all of us. She quickly found ‘Newbie’ more than suitable for Dewdrop. Just like with the Wonderbolts though, there was no malice behind it. After all, Dewdrop was quite happy to call his boss ‘Crash’ to her face.

     By the time the weekend finally rolled around, we were all pretty tired out from the extra work. But there’s no rest for the wicked, as my dad would say. We had to work Saturday as well this week to tie off a few loose ends here and there. Nothing major mind you, just things like moving off stray clouds or evaporating away some standing water. Still, I’d rather have my full weekend. At least we got overtime pay.

     Sunday of course, we did get off. We have to have one day a week off by law after all. Fluttershy was busy taking Angel off to Dr. Fauna, the local vet. The rabbit had developed a rather nasty cold that was refusing to clean up on its own. As much as I may dislike that little demon, he did seem to be suffering quite a bit.

     Since Fluttershy would be away in the morning, I volunteered to look after some of her animal friends, and after that, I planned to go visit my parents, who I hadn’t had a chance to really talk with since the day of my near miss with a thunderbolt.





     Mum and Dad have themselves a pretty nice house in Ponyville. It was actually built especially for them, courtesy of Princess Celestia. When we all first arrived here, we all ended up rooming with one pony or another. I stayed with Fluttershy, Bones stayed in the Apples’ spare room, and Mum and Dad stayed in Twilight’s old library (this was before that psycho Tirek got loose). While they got by until they could get up to Canterlot, Twilight’s home wasn’t really built for them. They were having to sleep in a bed too small and short for them, and there wasn’t exactly much space either. So, the princess had a modest home built to give them a place to stay. After all, we didn’t have a penny to our name when we got here. It’s specially built for them, and a little larger than a pony home. Dad says that the princess actually quite likes it too, since she’s quite a bit taller than most ponies.

     At this point, they’ve bought the place properly, since it was originally meant as a place to live until we could find a way home, and they’ve really made it their own. There’s a nice little garden in the front and back, Mum’s had the kitchen done up, and Dad’s turned one of the rooms downstairs into his private study.

     The house fits in pretty well, keeping with Ponyville’s German-Swiss aesthetic, but it has a few human touches here and there as well. At this point, they’ve been living there for a couple of years, and everypony in town knows them. Heck, even a few Canterlot ponies recognise the place when they visit.

     Opening up the small wooden gate, I trotted up the path to the door and rang the doorbell.

     “Coming!” I heard my Mum’s partly muffled voice. A moment later I heard the deadbolt go, the door opened, and there was my Mum, smiling down at me on the doorstep.

     That’s certainly one of the big things that take getting used to. As a human, I was about 5’3 or 5’4. Now, I’m just about four feet tall on all fours. So my mum’s gone from being a few inches shorter than me, to noticeably taller. It was actually quite funny when we first came to Equestria, since Bones was a pony from minute one. So until Discord decided to have some fun, I was far taller than my big brother.

     “Hey there, Mam,” I said as the door opened. “Not busy are you?”

     “No, no, not at all, sweetie,” Mum said kindly. “Come on in. I’ve just put the kettle on anyway.”

     Stepping inside, I was about to follow her down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen at the back of the house. Before I had a chance though, I was pounced on by the house's other resident.

With loud barking Charlie bounded up to me. On the surface, he's a German Shepherd dog and my parents' pet. But in reality, he's a friendly, if slightly dumb, changeling. Dad found him in Canterlot and took him in. In exchange for their protection, he gets a little bit of love every now and then. I always found it odd how he doesn't speak. Strong Shield; Bones' friend, said that even drones can talk, but for whatever reason, Charlie doesn't speak outside of noises. 

Mum eventually pulled him off me. He was only being friendly after all. I followed the two of them to the kitchen, where charlie happily returned to his basket. On the stove, a kettle was just coming to the boil and beginning to whistle furiously. Mum quickly went and turned it off, placing it off to one side. The whistling slowly petered out.

     “Want to try this new Zebrican tea I’ve got?” she asked, holding up a small box. “It tastes almost the same as Red Bush.”

     “Sure,” I replied. “Where did you get from?” Ponyville isn’t exactly known for such things. There’s certainly no Waitrose in town.

     “Zecora had it at her stall last market day,” Mum said. “I was going to see if she had anything to help your dad out. He’s come down with a bit of a cold this week. She suggested I try it while she was making up her version of Lemsip. I liked it, and it makes a nice change from that stuff Barnyard Bargains calls tea.”

     “Well,” I said, sitting myself down at the table. “At least if Cousin John ever joins us, he’ll be glad to know that somewhere in Equestria there’s a veldt.”

      Cousin John, actually my cousin once removed, spent most of his life in Rhodesia, what’s now Zimbabwe. His family owned a modest farm, which had been in the family since the Matabele War and his grandfather had fought the Boers. He would send my mum and her family a box of Red Bush tea every Christmas. He stayed there until the peace deal, fighting with the security forces during the Bush War. After Mugabe was elected, the new government seized all his land for ‘redistribution’, though from what he told us, after he and his family were forced out, it was just occupied by ex-guerrilla squatters. He moved down to what was then allied South Africa and took a smallholding as close to the border as he could. 

      We all went down there once to visit him there when I was six or seven; several years after the end of apartheid (talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire). Bones was greatly taken with his stories of his time in the war and those of his forefathers. After all, it isn’t something anyone really talked about back in England; in the 90's, empire was decidedly out of vogue, never mind the fact that Rhodesia essentially went off the reservation just like the Yanks had done. Plus, at the time, everyone was celebrating the end of the last white led government in Africa. I was glad just to see the country; South Africa, like Rhodesia was a stunning place after all. I kind of wish I could see his old farm sometimes. But with the way Zimbabwe is, or rather was when we left, for all I know Mugabe’s dead and rotting in the ground by now, there was no question of us going down there.

      “Oh, he’d never be able to stand it here, Lizzie,” Mum said with a laugh. “At any rate, I doubt he’d get on with the zebras.”

     Ah, yes. Cousin John was very much ‘of his time’ as my dad put it. He certainly wasn't happy when apartheid finally ended Although when you consider who took all his land, killed a lot of his friends, and turned his previously thriving country into a cesspit of economic inflation and human rights abuses, you could hardly blame him for seeing things that way. And, in a way, when you look at modern ANC led South Africa, or Zimbabwe, you can't help but wonder sometimes if he had a point. Heck, even before we left, he was concerned about his current farm potentially being taken off him by the government. 

     “Still, I’m surprised you remember him after all these years,” Mum went on. “The last time we visited him you couldn’t have been more than six or seven.” True, I thought to myself, but few people could ‘forget’ someone like that. The man was like a real life Richard Hannay.

      “Anyway,” she went on, changing the subject. “How have you been doing? I saw you and Flitter moving those rainclouds about on Wednesday.”

      I took a sip of the Red Bush Mum had poured out. Luckily, she had the sense to put in a healthy amount of sugar. Rooibos, as it's called in Afrikaans, is bitter as hell, and even worse if you’re dumb enough to add milk. Still, with a bit of sweetness, it’s very pleasant and has a beautiful reddish colour.

      “Yeah, I’ve been getting back into the swing of things this past week. And, hey, thanks for coming out with Dad to support me when I was practicing.” Mum smiled and waved me off.

     “Please, what are mothers for. If anyone should be thankful, it should be Thunderlane; your father and Bones were ready to knock six bells out of him until I got them to calm down.” I smiled at that image.

      “Think you can get them to leave Dewdrop alone as well?” I asked.

      Ever since Dewdrop first asked me out for coffee during the last Hurricane Season, my dad and my brother have been giving him the stink eye and generally being the overprotective idiots that they are. I can sort of understand why they’re doing it; my last boyfriend did turn out to be a complete tool. But there’s not even anything really going on between me and Dewdrop.

      “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Give them a little time and they’ll get bored of it anyway,” Mum assured me, sipping her own tea. “So, aside from dropping by, what are you up to today?”

      “I thought I might go say hi to Dash in a bit,” I replied. “I spend a load of time with her at work, but I don’t really spend much time with any of the others outside of work. Pinkie Pie said it might be an idea to organise a little work party or something for later in the month. You know, go have a few drinks or something and let our manes down.”

      “Sounds like a plan,” Mum agreed. “With all that’s been going on these past couple weeks I’d say you’ve all earned it.”





     I stayed chatting with Mum for another half hour or so before I headed off. Like I said to her, I wanted to swing by Dash’s place today as well. And, without being overly harsh to my mum, she can talk your ear off at times.

     Heading out the front door, I trotted back down the garden path to the road. From there, I made a quick jump into the air and began to climb up to altitude. I’d only been sort of grounded for about a week or so, but it had felt like so much longer. As unsettled as I had been by the storm, I’d still missed flying. I think it was that that helped me overcome my brief anxiety. I wanted to be flying, more than I feared being hit by lightning.

     Levelling off just above the cloud base, I did a little barrel role as I straightened out. It was harder to navigate by landmarks this high up, but Dash usually kept her house above the cloud layer to dodge local storms.

     As I flew and picked up speed, the words of an old song Cousin John had taught me came to mind. I guess chatting about him with Mum had brought the memories back.





     RLI was the Rhodesian Light Infantry, something similar to the Americans ‘Air Cav’; the Bush War did kick off the same year as Vietnam after all. Like the Yanks, they used helicopters to get where they needed to go, and then tracked down the communist guerrillas on foot, with attack helicopters and jets there to help out if needed.

    But while as a pegasus I might be seen as a blue job, Cousin John was definitely a brown. And while the RLI spent their time in helicopters, his unit, the Rhodesian African Rifles,  would spend weeks patrolling along the Zambezi River in the north of the country, watching for enemy incursions by day and marching through the jungle at night.

     Before long, Dash’s home came into view. A lot of people have a go at Dash for having a bit of an ego when it comes to her flying. I don’t think her house does much for her case. The place is pretty large; nothing on Twilight’s castle, but still far bigger than your average house. Actually, I’m not sure if it counts as a mansion or not. But with its rainbow waterfalls (which Rainbow uses as an old wives tale hangover cure) it is just a little ostentatious. But hey, when you’re building with clouds, I guess you aren’t as restricted compared to building on the ground.

     Touching down on her cloud ‘driveway’, I’m still entirely sure how that works, I was about to knock on the door. But at the moment I did so, Dash came out, obviously about to head off somewhere. Not expecting me, Dash nearly walked straight into me, letting out a startled whiney at the sight of me.

      “Oh, it’s you, Lizzie,” she said after she had recovered herself. “What can I do for you?”

      “Hey, RD. I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I might drop by,” I explained.

     “Oh, cool,” Dash replied. “I was just about to head out though. I gotta head up to Wonderbolt Headquarters to pick up some pre-flight briefings from Spitfire. She says I can take part in the show in Canterlot next week. You can tag along if you want.”

     “Sure,” I said. I was slightly disappointed at not getting a chance to see inside Rainbow’s house. But hey, you can’t win ‘em all.

      Turning around, we both took off and began the steady climb on course towards Cloudsdale. As we went along, Dash struck up a conversation.

      “How’s things at Fluttershy’s then?” she asked, moving slightly closer so we could talk more easily. “I’ve been meaning to drop by, but between the patrol and the ‘Bolts probation stuff, I haven’t exactly had much free time on my hooves.”

     “Not too bad,” I replied. “Although she’s been a bit worried about Angel. The guy’s had a cold this past week. Actually, I think there might be something going around, my Dad’s come down with something nasty as well.”

      “Eww,” Dash remarked.

     “Anyway, I wanted to pick your brains about something,” I went on. “I was chatting with my mum earlier, and she was saying it might be an idea for us all to have a little get together sometime. I mean, these last couple weeks have been a bit stress filled and all. I figured we could ask Pinkie Pie to set something up.” Dash thought for a moment.

     “Yeah, I guess we could all do with a chance to let our manes down,” she agreed with a nod. “Tell you what; lemme just stop off at ‘Bolts HQ, and then we’ll swing by Sugarcube Corner.”

     “Sounds like a plan,” I said.





    I’d seen pictures of the famous Wonderbolt Academy in books and in the paper when they did shows, but I’d never been near the place myself. It kind of has a sort of Bond thing going on. The place, after all, is located on a mountaintop above the cloud base. I think it’s called a tepui or something like that. It’s essentially a mountain with a flat peak. It was at this very high point that the Wonderbolts had made their headquarters and training academy for new recruits.

     From up in the air, you could make out the single runway that ran along the length of the tepui. I could also see the windsock, and a few other landing aids, like the night flying lights and VASI. Around the runway were a few of the academy buildings, including the barracks and classrooms. We passed over all this, and I soon found myself touching down just outside the headquarters building.

     I was actually surprised at how easy it was to get in. Wonderbolts are a sort of quassi-military group. I had expected that we’d have to go past a gate or security checkpoint, or at the very least be required to wear ID badges. I’d gone to the RAF museum at Cosford once. The place was also an active base, so there was a fair bit of security, barbed wire, CCTV, anything really to keep certain people out. I guess Equestria doesn’t have issues with terrorists; or if they do, they have a really lax attitude about it.

     Dash told me to hang around outside while she popped in to pick up the files Spitfire wanted her to have. She couldn’t have been gone for more than thirty seconds, when I found myself confronted with a celebrity. I was watching a couple of pegasi practice some formation work, when I heard a male voice close at hoof.

     “Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said. I turned and was very much surprised to see who it was.

      Standing there before me, was none other than Soarin; the ‘Bolts second-in-command.

     And also the guy who’s been on a bunch of Playcolt magazine covers….and centrefolds….which I don’t have copies of stashed under my bed.

     I remember when Discord first changed me into a pony, about a week later, Shining Armor, Twilight’s brother, came down from Canterlot. When I was human, I saw him as a pony, nothing more. But when I was a pony myself he was…well, kinda hot. I’m still getting used to the idea of it all. I can’t help but feel like I’m one of those weirdos you read about on the internet.

     Long story short, at this point, from my perspective, Soarin is really attractive. And now he was here, not two feet away, talking to me. I may have gone a little funny in the head.

     Luckily, before my silence (and somewhat creepy stare, smile and extended wings) could drag on too long, I was saved by Rainbow’s return. Trotting down the steps, she quickly spotted Soarin. He quickly took the opportunity to look for an exit.

     “Hey there, Crash!” he said, looking at RD a little desperately. “What brings you up here?”

     “Hey, Clipper,” Rainbow replied, calling Soarin by his callsign. “Spitfire just wanted me to pick up some pre-flight stuff for next week. I see you’ve met Lizzie too. She’s one of the flyers on the patrol back in Ponyville.” Soarin turned back to me.

     “Oh…er, well, pleased to meet you, Lizzie,” he said, taking my hoof for a moment. I now stopped staring with my mouth agape and tried to recover. I felt a blush creep up my face.

     “Oh, pleased to meet you too, Soarin,” I replied, a little lamely.

     With a quick wave to Dash, the stallion took off and was soon out of sight. Behind me, I heard Dash sniggering. I turned and glared at her.

      “Oh relax, Lizzie,” she said between laughs. “You’re not the first filly to do that to the poor guy. It’s always funny though.” Still feeling a little embarrassed, I batted Dash behind the head with a wing.

     “Ow!” Dash exclaimed. “I was only kidding.”





     Departing Wonderbolt HQ, we both dived back down towards the ground. Following the river, we made good time back to Ponyville. Dash even had a chance to show me some of the new tricks she’s picked up from flying with Spitfire and the others. One I was actually sort of familiar with. Technically, it was a dogfighting move, but it was a good one to have in the box if you ever needed to brake suddenly.

     You see, when you’re flying, even if you go into a turn standing on your wingtip, your forward momentum is still going to push you forward, toward whatever you’re trying to avoid, and in tight spaces, you may need to stop right on a bit. So, what Dash did was effectively the start of an Immelmann turn (that’s where you pull up, roll on your back and chance direction at the cost of speed). Instead of levelling off and rolling though, you keep it at a straight climb and flatten out your wings. The climb kills you speed, while your now non-aerodynamic wings kill your forward momentum. I tried a few times, and at close range, there was no way I could match Dash’s turn after she pulled that move. So, I filed it away as I do with a lot of stunts.

     Before too long, we reached Ponyville and found ourselves at Sugarcube Corner. I figured that we’d go in, grab something for lunch, and then set up this little party with Pinkie.

     Of course, I forgot that this was Pinkie Pie we were dealing with.

     Walking inside the bakery, there was no sign of her. The place was busy enough. From behind the counter, Mrs. Cake waved to the both us in her friendly way. Pinkie though, was nowhere to be found. I figured that she was probably in the kitchen working on some new concoction, so I trotted up the counter, with Dash following.

      “Well hello there, Lizzie,” Mrs. Cake said. “What can I get for you?” I smiled at the friendly baker.

     “The usual for me, Mrs. Cake,” I replied. “A Chelshay bun please.” I turned to Rainbow, who was standing behind me.

     “And I’ll have a couple of Pinkie’s secret recipe cupcakes,” she added.

     Mrs. Cake quickly trotted off into the kitchen to fetch our orders. Reaching into my saddlebag with my snout, I fished out my coin purse.

     “Here,” I said to Dash. “You let have a look at the academy, I’ll pay for lunch.”

     “Okay,” Dash replied. I reminded myself that I was with Element of Loyalty, not generosity. And it seemed that Dash had missed the social nicety of at least pretending to argue over who paid.

     Suddenly, those thoughts made themselves known.

     “Geez, Dashy!” a voice close at hand said. “You’re supposed to at least offer to go Dutch first.”

     The two of us all but jumped out of our skin, literally in the case of Dash who leapt up and stayed in a steady hover a couple feet off the ground. Turning around, we found ourselves face to face with Pinkie, who had our respective orders in hoof. I’d kept my eye on the door to the kitchen the entire time. I hadn’t seen anypony go in or out besides Mrs. Cake.

      “How do you do that, Pinkie?” I asked, exasperated.

     “Easy,” Pinkie replied. “I just use my tunnel like I always do.” She pointed to an open manhole cover in one corner of the shop. I decided not to ask why a bakery needed tunnels running under the shop floor, nor did I ask if there were any other tunnels I should know about. To do so would just be a waste of time, or make my head hurt, depending on Pinkie’s response.

     Passing her the five bits I owed for lunch, still with no protest from Dash, I broached the subject of throwing a bash for everypony from the patrol. She was her usual enthusiastic self about it and pointed me in the direction of the landlord of the local pub. I figured Sugarcube Corner would be a bit too much, I didn’t want to impose on Twilight or Applejack by asking to use their places, and given that this was going to be just an informal little get together, a pub or bar seemed like the ideal place, particularly when you remember Dash’s liking for cider.





     Parting ways with Dash after lunch, I headed for the one tavern in Ponyville. It’s actually a little strange living in a town with only one drinking establishment. Back in Wales, the two things you’d find in even the smallest villages was a church and at least three or four pubs catering to the different social classes. Here though, there was only the one place, run by Berry Punch. How the place hasn’t imploded due to the landlord drinking away half the stock is beyond me.

     As a rule, the place was fairly quiet except in the evenings. Luckily for us though, the place had a function room off the tap room that could be rented out for a modest fee. I figured that would be best for a little party like us. That and the snooker table was in there too.

     Heading to the other side of Ponyville, and passing the train station on the way, I soon found myself outside the little establishment. Like most buildings, it was built in the Swiss-Germanic style, albeit a little larger, and with the obvious trappings of a pub outside. Heading inside, I found Berry cleaning the bar, on which sat her little filly. Other than that, at this time of day the place was pretty empty. Most of the chairs were still on the tables.

     “Hey there, Lizzie,” Berry said as I walked in. “What brings you here so early in the day?” I trotted up to the bar.

     “I was wondering if I could rent out the back room tomorrow night, Berry,” I replied, fishing out my coin purse again. The mare’s eyes went up in slight surprise.

    “Oh, having a little party are we?” she asked. “How many and for long?”

     “Just me and a few guys from the patrol, so six all in. And you could call it four hours or so. We’re just having a little night off to let our manes down.” Berry nodded.

     “Yeah, I heard about that near miss you guys had a couple weeks back,” she said moving to stack a few glasses on the shelves behind the bar. “I’ll book you in then for next Friday then?”

     “That’d be great,” I agreed with a nod. I passed over a small sum. “Here’s a little deposit for you.”

     Berry quickly scribbled out a receipt for me and quickly jotted down a note in a ledger. Thanking her, I headed back to Fluttershy’s, where poor Angel was still sneezing.





    Next Friday saw me outside the pub again. I had asked Fluttershy to come along. She’s a lot better at parties nowadays, and I was sure Rainbow would like to have her best friend there. But unfortunately, though much to my amusement, Angel was still sick as a dog…or rabbit. Dr Fauna had put him on a steady dose of antibiotics, and Fluttershy was insistent on sitting by his bedside and making him carrot soup. So I went on my own.

     I was actually the second one to get there. You’d have thought that being the organiser of this little night on the town that I’d be there before everypony else. But it was Dewdrop, who had turned up a half hour early to avoid being late, that beat me to it. I found him at the bar sipping on a glass of orange juice and doing his best to avoid the female attention that was coming his way. Sometimes, I honestly don’t think he realises how adorable he can be at times.

     After saying hello to Berry, who was behind the bar, and getting myself a mug of cider (sadly ponies have no concept of Guinness), I led him back to the function room that I’d booked. Pinkie had very kindly helped me set up a few things. We’d got music, a fair bit of party food, a snooker table, darts. All that was missing was one of those stupid arcade slot machines you used to get in pubs back home.

     The two of us sat down at one of the tables and chatted while we waited for the others to arrive. It was nice to get some time with Dewdrop. Okay, I may not like him like him, but he’s still a sweet guy and a good friend. I’ve been trying to work out exactly where he thinks our relationship is. He’s quite the shy type, so even if he did like me that way, I’m not sure he’d ever admit it.

     We talked about how he was finding things in the patrol, how he’d been settling into life in Ponyville, and what he was up to at the moment.

    At one point, I broached the obvious question of his drink. Not that I have anything against that; I was just curious, that was all. Dewdrop simply replied that he never really developed a taste for it. And growing up in Las Pegasus, he saw plenty of reasons not to drink every day.

     As the appointed time for things to kick off rolled around, we were joined by everypony else. Dash was quick to arrive, probably due to the promise of cider stashed away from last season. Flitter and Cloudchaser came together, and proceeded to order more than a couple cocktails for themselves. And then finally Thunderlane, who promptly took to the snooker table, eventually convincing Dewdrop to join him.

    And with that, the night kicked off.





    A few hours later, and we were all enjoying ourselves. Dash was struggling to stay standing due to all the hard cider she’s drunk, while Flitter and Cloudchaser were stuck in fits of giggles and every now and again made passes at Dewdrop. Speaking of, the young stallion turned out to be something of a shark when it came to snooker. In indignation, Thunderlane had demanded a rematch and wagered a few bits too. As a result, Dewdrop’s monthly paycheck had gone up by the better part of a hundred bits.

     As for me, I had a fairly nice buzz going, although I wasn’t drunk just yet. I’m normally a bit of a lightweight like Mum. Maybe this pony body has better tolerance or something? I was lounging at one of the tables, trying to play a pony version of Jenga with Dash. Trust me, it’s much harder to do it with your wingtips that it is with hands. Being buzzed probably didn’t help either.

     At about half eleven, Dash emerged from her salt fueled slumber and declared that we needed to have a sing song. Well, everypony was up for that. The only question was what to sing. For whatever reason, the only song that came to mind at that point was ‘Come On You Reds’, which I doubted anypony else knew. Thunderlane suggested a Griffon drinking song, but none of us really had the grasp of their language at this point. After some arguing, Dash spoke up.

     “Hey, hey, everypony!” she declared, slurring her words a little. “We are members of the Weather Patrol. There’s only one song we can sing!” The others all quickly brightened up at this.

     “Yes!” Thunderlane agreed loudly. “We all know the EWP anthem, don’t we?” There was a chorus of agreement all around.

     The anthem of the Equestrian Weather Patrol was a song known by everypony in the patrol, for obvious reasons. Even Dewdrop, new as he was, knew the chorus. So, gathering around a table, glasses, mugs, and bottles in hoof, Dash led us off. I meanwhile, set myself up at the piano in the corner. I may not be as good as I used to be, but I can still manage a tune.




Back in ancient days of yore a regiment was born
And her gallant troopers flew in sunshine and in storm
From Vanhoover to Canterlot and the mighty Everfree
Known by many names it was the EWP

Come ye flyers of old where’er ye may be
Drink a century toast to the EWP
And we’ll sing a couple of bars of the good ol’ thunderclap song
To the EWP and the regiment lives on

We have served in war and peace, known glory and have bled
A multi sided role in the land where we were bred
The guardian of our weather, we were always there
Like that flyer who was cut down in San Fransiscolt Square

Come ye flyers of old where’er ye may be
Drink a century toast to the EWP
And we’ll sing a couple of bars of the good ol’ thunderclap song
To the EWP and the regiment lives on

Our flyers they soar on onto the honour roll
And we’ll keep going till our very last patrol
To the last cloud in the stores, last flyer in the sky
Last squawker on the radio, the legend cannot die

Come ye flyers of old where’er ye may be
Drink a century toast to the EWP
And we’ll sing a couple of bars of the good ol’ thunderclap song
To the EWP and the regiment lives on


    After that, things really kicked off. We all had a great time and revelled in the chance to let our manes down and relax for once. It felt like all the stress, all the worry, and all the fear that had hung over us the past couple weeks had evaporated. We at last felt like the happy-go-lucky set of flyers we were.

     Two o’clock eventually rolled around, the bell rang, and a reluctant Berry Punch came to turf us out with the age old phrase of ‘You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here’.

    So, with belated groans and moans, we all hauled ourselves to our now very unsteady hooves and prepared to make our way back to our homes. The only one still sober was Dewdrop, who having not touched a drop all night, insistently sticking to his orange juice, found himself tasked with getting us all home safely. Or at the very least, off of Berry Punch’s property.

     Staggering out into the cold night air, I found myself leaning on the young stallion for balance. He didn’t seem to mind that much, and there was no way I was going to try walking just yet. As I learned a few minutes later, I’d had a bit too much to drink. Dash turned around to address us all.

     “All…urph…alright, everypony,” she began unsteadily. “I’m sure we all wanna thank Lizzie for settin’…*hic*… settin’ all this up for us. I’m pretty sure we’ve all had some fun tonight.” There was a round of thanks sent my way, which simply caused me to smile goofily.

     “Aw, you’re welcome, you bozos,” I replied good naturedly. “I’m just thankful for Thunderlane picking up the tab.” Thunderlane’s eyes went wide for a moment, until the laughter told him I was just messing with him. He grinned wryly at me.

     “You guys can stay out if you want,” Thunderlane declared. “Me though, I’m gonna go home, and have some sex.” Cloudchaser laughed as the dark stallion lumbered off.

     “Flight, you’re gonna go home and puke,” she called after him.

     “Yeah, well, that’ll be fun too,” he replied, already regretting his choice of very strong moonshine.

      Dash too was quick to say her farewells and took off into the night. There was plenty of light from the full moon tonight, so she shouldn’t have too much trouble finding somewhere to set down and sleep tonight off. Although watching her go, instead of her usually skilful flying form, she looked more like a very confused pheasant.

     Flitter and Cloudchaser, despite the lateness of the hour, declared their intention to look for any other drinking establishment that would let them in. They were giggly, but they hadn’t taken complete leave of their senses, so I was fairly sure they’d be alright as long as they stuck together.

     That left just me and Dewdrop. Since we both lived on the ground, and given how drunk I was, Dewdrop offered to help me get home. As we walked, or rather, as Dewdrop walked and I clambered all over him like a climbing frame, I struck up a conversation with him, between bouts of singing ‘It's a long way to Mukumbura’.

      “Oh, you’re so good to me, Dewdrop,” I slurred as we came towards Fluttershy’s cottage.

      “You’re so nice, and really cute too, d’ya know that?” Dewdrop blushed and feigned a laugh.

    “Nah, I’m serious,” I went on. “You’ve got that whole adorable shy guy thing goin’ on. Girls’ love that. You’re like a puppy they all wanna take home.” As you can probably tell, I was very drunk. Eventually, we got to the front door and I fished the spare key out from under a rock by the door.

     “Goodnight, Lizzie,” Dewdrop said kindly. Luckily, I think he knew it was the booze talking and not me. Although on the other hand ‘in vino veritas’. I turned round as I stepped inside to look back at the kind, young stallion that had escorted me home and, to his credit, not done anything to take advantage of the situation.

     “Aw, goodnight, Dewdrop. Now come ‘ere.”

     And with that, I grabbed his head with both front hooves and drunkenly kissed him. The poor guy went bright red in a moment. After I let him go he mumbled something about needing to get going and galloped off. I meanwhile stumbled upstairs to bed, somehow managed to not wake Fluttershy, and promptly fell fast asleep.