it’s peace, it’s glass, it’s warm in the sun, it’s green far below and blue far above, it’s the feeling of fear when you leave what you know, it’s the knowledge that you sorta know where to go, it’s a piece of the sun falling down to the earth, it’s a moment of peace, it’s a thought, it’s rebirth, when you’re flying so fast you can’t help but be still, better not try and roll or you’ll surely get ill, it’s a plan, it’s a plant, it’s a fox, it’s a dove, it is you and the world, it’s a shark, it’s a shove, and your wings are outstretched and there’s wind in your hair, and you feel so free you just want to despair, and the riverbank talks of the waters of March, but you’re so far above them you can’t hear them talk
Dash heard a voice in the wind.
It started out as a constant roar, sound and matter moving together to buffet her from side to side. The usual sound of wind against her ears grew louder as she neared the jetstream. When she was close enough, it all but pulled her in. Her wings ached as they caught the full brunt of the current, and she lurched ahead. Pockets of erratic air pushed her up and down. The noise was thunderous and the wind blurred her vision, but she fought the urge to bail out and kept herself steady.
As she acclimated to the noise and speed, she looked down at the countryside. Years of training taught her not to be deceived by the slow pace of the ground beneath her. If she were lower, the green fields would be nothing but a blur.
It was here, looking down into the empty space between her and her home, that she heard a voice.
She lifted her head against the current and looked around. Nothing but empty air as far as she could see. She didn’t dare look behind her for fear of losing control and being spit out of the air channel.
“Hello?” she called out. “Who’s there?” Her words were carried away in an instant.
Dash focused once more on the horizon. Barely a minute had gone by when she heard the sound again, a vaguely pony voice speaking in perfect harmony with the incredible roar of the wind.
This time, Dash almost flipped over. She craned her neck to see behind her and got a faceful of wind in return.
Twilight had once tried to teach her about magical harmonics, how the fundamental energy of magic sometimes manifested in nature as vibrations. Since the jetstream was essentially one giant column of air being vibrated by unbound magical forces, it was only logical for it to produce sound as the overtones interacted in the space around her.
But there was something different about this sound. It carried like a voice, a brilliant shimmering hollow-sounding mare’s voice. It came from everywhere all at once, carrying over the wind in strange colorful tones. In one moment far behind, the next moment far ahead, the next right on top of her, right in her ear.
Dash yelped and ducked her head. The new downward force propelled her out of the jetstream, a cone of condensation briefly forming in front of her.
She let herself free fall for a moment before opening her wings again and stabilizing herself. The usual sound of the wind filled her ears. Not a voice to be heard.
She looked up at the current of air above her. She had already fallen a hundred lengths below it, and still the ground looked as far away as ever. With a flap of her tired wings, she rolled so her belly was facing the jetstream and wondered what she would look like from far away. A small dot of color against an endless expanse of the same color. If she were a hunter, it would have been great camouflage.
In that moment, something made her wish she had been born another color. Maybe brown, or some gross shade of green. Or bright pink, like Pinkie.
But then again, light blue suited her. Another thought overtook her, and she rolled to look at the ground. Up here, she was the sky. She was the wild blue yonder, the cloud, the jetstream, the lone flyer traversing its endless plane.
The wild blue yonder did a barrel roll and let out a cry of elation. Thin air did wonders for her sanity.
With her spirit renewed, Dash pumped her wings hard and ascended back into the jetstream--
--and there was the singing again! She had forgotten about the singing. The voice coalesced and fell apart, flowing around her like the wind, blowing past her, her ears were like bottles a foal would blow on and make a note, different pitches in her ears, and then there was harmony, brilliant shimmering harmony, like glass, like god, like the silvery sun shining down from above, there was no one above, just the sun, just the voices, the harmony, brilliant, shimmering,
the voice was singing
----------
Dash hit the westernmost beach of San Diamingo going way too fast, rolling ten yards before finally coming to a stop. She was covered in sand, and golly did she ever come close to hitting that seawall--but it was all very graceful otherwise. The loose collection of vacationers and staff looked at her with a mix of shock and bemusement. Some awe too, probably.
Dash stuck her head out of the sand. Everything felt warm and fuzzy, and for once it wasn’t because she had bumped her head on the landing. She felt better than good. She felt alive.
She opened her mouth, spat out a glob of sand, and proclaimed, “Rainbow Dash, party of two awesome ponies.”
A nearby stallion wearing a staff uniform trotted up to her with a towel and said in an accent she couldn’t quite place, “Please follow me. We keep the most awesome patrons on the east side of the island.”
What wonderful staff, Dash thought. She followed him to a nearby dock, where half a dozen pontoon boats emblazoned with the three blue and white stripes of the San Diamingo flag were moored.
"What's your flag mean?" Dash asked.
"The two blue stripes on the top and bottom of the flag are the sky and the sea. The middle white one is the white sand of our beaches."
"How can you tell if you're flying it right-side up?"
The stallion laughed as he expertly unroped the last boat, and in a moment they were chugging across the waves.
“The only direct walking paths to the other side of the island run across the mountain,” the stallion explained over the sound of the engine, pointing at the single dormant volcano taking up a majority of the island’s real estate. “It’s easiest to just go around.”
“So, the restaurants and clubs, are they all on the other side of the island too?”
“There is essentially one town on either side of the island. Both have all the amenities you could want--restaurants, clubs, spas, bars--”
“But the restaurants are good? What kind of food do they have?”
“There’s a four-star restaurant by the north beach with a wonderful tropical theme--”
“But can I get, like, sandwiches? Or hay fries?”
The stallion chuckled. “There’s a good shack on the west side of the town. You’ll like the grilled pineapple burgers.”
“Pineapple burgers?”
“You’ll thank me after you try them.”
The comforting rock of the pontoon boat lulled Dash into silence for the next few minutes. She took the opportunity to take in the island from sea level. It really was an impressive sight. Dense tropical brush clung to the mountainside and extended all the way to the water in some places. High above, she spotted a pair of pegasi riding a thermal updraft into the clouds. A few ponies lounged on the beach. The ocean spread out in all directions. The sight almost overwhelmed her.
She closed her eyes, and for a moment she was alone, far away from the island, far removed from being. This was the feeling she had been aching for all this time. No land. No weather. No Ponyville. Nopony. Just blue.
The stallion cut it short. “Hold on please,” he said, and turned the motor over.
Dash opened her eyes to find they were already docking on the other side of the island. The feeling escaped her all at once, and for a moment she considered throwing the stallion overboard and stealing the boat. She’d turn it around, though she didn’t know how to steer, gun the engine, though she couldn’t find the throttle, and sail into the horizon.
“Miss?”
Dash looked around. The stallion was on the pier. The boat was all tied up. A thought came to her, focused on the winding path between the waves, leading to somewhere beyond the horizon. The water faded from a bright turquoise to a dull and stationary blue.
Wasn’t she supposed to be happy on vacation? That’s how it worked, right? She hopped off the boat and followed the stallion over the beach, but the thought kept nagging her. Wasn’t she supposed to be happy on vacation? Here she was, as far away from her normal life as money and fame could buy, yet it still wasn’t far enough. She looked at the horizon. The color was wrong. She wanted to fly.
Dash’s cabin was one of several spread out along the eastern coast of the island. The wood structure was nestled at the very edge of the treeline and separated from the beach by a low stone seawall. A single brightly-colored bird perched on the top of the cabin’s roof.
“Is the bird real?” Dash asked as she climbed the few steps leading to the cabin’s front porch.
“As real as the rest of the island,” the stallion replied. “You and your friend will find some pamphlets inside detailing all there is to do here. Water shuttles run every hour and depart from the same place we docked at earlier. Do you have any questions about your stay?”
“When is my friend getting here?”
“A few more hours at the most. The boat she took is experiencing some delays.”
Dash chuckled. “Thanks for the lift, dude.”
As the stallion walked off towards the dock, Dash finally realized how warm everything was. Warm and bright. Light reflecting off the ocean, the sea breeze blowing her mane, shafts of warmth cutting through the breaks in the porch roof, thoughts of spending a long weekend with her friend, her friend, her friend, her friend--it all blurred together into one overwhelming sensation. Rarely could she feel her hooves on the ground and still feel so dizzy.
To unclutter her mind, she went for a fly around the beach. After a few hours she wound up in the water, her belly warmed by the sun, her wings catching the underwater current and carrying her in circles. When the waves moved her and her head dipped beneath the water, the weird feelings disappeared, replaced by soft shapes dancing across the surface above her. Warm and bright.
She must have fallen asleep out there, because when she opened her eyes the island had nearly reached the horizon. The sun was growing harsh and the water a little too clingy. For a unicorn or earth pony, it might have been frightening. Dash flipped over and shook out her wings before taking to the air again.
When she arrived back at the shore, she noticed another boat had docked at the pier.
A jubilant squeal cut through the air. The trees closest to the dock shook. The brightly-colored bird perched atop the cabin ruffled its feathers and squawked.
There was no denying the fact that Rainbow Dash was fast. But when she saw Rarity galloping towards her, sand spraying to the beat of her alabaster hooves like water cut by a boat, she felt a twinge of something she had never felt before. It was strange, like a tightness in her heart and a looseness in her mind at the same time.
Dash assumed this must be what fear felt like.
The pleasantries were long--they were always long with Rarity, but always bearable. Maybe it was the way she spoke. Her accent made the words skip in a certain way. Kinda like a mare running along the beach, her mane blowing in the wind, the sun setting, dramatic music playing in the background, and strings, and acoustic guitars, and, and, her, and--
And it was just past midday. The island played its own kind of music. Rarity was saying something important-sounding. Dash never knew when to zone out. Everything sounded important when you said it like Rarity said it.
“My bellhop is just getting my bags off the boat,” Rarity finished. “Aren’t you excited?”
“You got a bellhop?”
Rarity gave her a sideways look. “Didn’t you?”
Dash turned towards the pier and saw a stallion in a staff uniform balancing Rarity’s trunks on his back. The wheels in her mind turned as he made his way to the porch and set the bags down. “You and your friend will find some pamphlets inside detailing all there is to do here,” he said with a professional smile. “Water shuttles run every hour and depart from the same place we docked at earlier. Do you have any questions?”
Rarity shook her head and slipped a few bits into his pocket. As he walked off towards the dock, she turned and asked Dash, “Are your bags inside?”
“Um.” A shaft of light caught Dash in the eye, and she teetered on her hooves. There was that feeling again, warm and bright and exuberant and expectation all at the same time--a pit in her gut, a weightless dream, the feeling of coming apart at the seams, all bursting out, all anxious and joy, but Rarity was staring so say something coy! “No,” she said.
The ocean sighed a gentle breeze. Or maybe it was Rarity. Dash turned red and fumbled with the front door, but stopped when she felt a hoof on her shoulder.
“You forgot your bags at home.”
Dash considered her words for a moment, then went back to fumbling with the door handle. “I didn’t forget my bags at home. You can’t forget your bags at home if you don’t pack them in the first place.”
“You know what this means, right?”
Dash slumped. “I just want to go flying.”
Rarity beamed, bright and warm. “You know what this means, Dash.”
“No.”
“Rainbow--”
“I know.” Dash looked away, her face red. “I know.”