//------------------------------// // Chapter 1:11 - Spring, Unnaturally // Story: Camaraderie is Sorcery // by FireOfTheNorth //------------------------------// Chapter 1:11 – Spring, Unnaturally             When Twilight Sparkle awoke, she immediately took note that the wind was no longer howling outside.  Rising from the bed that Trixie had slept in over a month earlier, the sorceress trotted over to the window and opened the heavy shutters.  From the Mayoral Keep’s tower, she could see across Ponieville and the surrounding land, all covered in a heavy layer of snow.             The White Procession’s winter had raged for three days, and through it all, Twilight had stayed in the Mayoral Keep with a large portion of Ponieville’s residents.  Mayor Mare had offered the tower room to the Cant’r Laht 2nd Mage Cadre initially, and Twilight had found herself sleeping in the Great Hall with the common rabble.  Penumbra and his fellow mages had stayed only one night, though, and after they departed for Cant’r Laht (with the promise to return at a moment’s notice if the Mayoral Keep was attacked), the mayor offered the room to Twilight, perhaps to avoid offending the sorceress more than she already had.             The room had been a blessing to Twilight, and not just because it distanced her from the unfamiliar smells and noises that filled the Great Hall.  She had a quiet place to continue her studies, which at the moment revolved around the only books she had on hoof—Hearthfire Incantations—but that was perfectly fine with her.  After the most recent run-in with that centaur wizard, she felt it would be wise to investigate spells designed for combatting the White Procession’s magic.  Besides, teleporting to Golden Oak’s laboratory and back to fetch more books seemed too dangerous of a feat to attempt.             Having a room to herself (and Spike) was also advantageous for other reasons.  She could meet with her friends without being part of the crushing crowd in the Great Hall.  After escorting the Apples and Fluttershy here, four of her five main acquaintances were assembled in the Mayoral Keep.  There was no sign of Rarity, but the other Brave Companions held out hope that she’d barricaded herself in her home or made it to shelter somewhere else.  According to Solith, the White Procession had, as a whole, left Ponieville itself alone, focusing their troops on the fields outside the town, so there was a good chance that Rarity was fine so long as she’d been within the town walls when the storm had hit.             As Twilight surveyed the frosty landscape, she noticed ponies beginning to assemble in the Mayoral Keep’s courtyard.  It had to be the preparations for the winter wrap-up she’d missed the last time when she was repairing Golden Oak’s laboratory.  She had first learned of this custom through the writings of her predecessor in Ponieville.  Golden Oak had apparently been in the habit of jotting down his thoughts in journals, and then leaving those journals tucked away in obscure corners of his home.   Twilight had found two so far, which she’d tentatively labeled volumes one and seventeen based on the time gap and topics discussed.             In the earlier journal, he’d written about the Ponieville winter wrap-up.  In Equestria’s largest cities, recovery from an attack by the White Procession was often accomplished with aid of magic (apart from Manehatten, which had recently gotten into the habit of burning sorceresses at the stake); however, in rural areas, everypony fended for themselves in restoring the land to the rightful season.  In Ponieville, the recovery from the White Procession was ordered, like in the cities, but traditionally no magic was used.  Golden Oak had found it odd when the townsponies had turned down his magical help in cleaning up the wintery mess; Twilight found it strange as well, but she was here in Ponieville to learn, and one of the things she’d taken upon herself to learn was the traditions of this town whose importance in the Dominions of Cant’r Laht was vastly greater than its size.             The crowd down below began to disperse as the great gates in the Mayoral Keep’s wall were forced open, but Twilight had no fear that she would miss the winter wrap-up.  Golden Oak had been very thorough in his description, and the sorceress knew that before the work began, ponies would return to their homes to survey the damage and bring word back so that tasks could be assigned.  She had plenty of time to wake Spike, clothe herself, and travel to the laboratory and return better equipped.  She was excited to experience this strange tradition that banned the very thing that was the source of her power.  But, magic or not, she would be there. ***             An hour later, everypony had reassembled at the Mayoral Keep and were talking amongst themselves as they waited for the winter wrap-up to get underway.  Near the keep’s entrance was a line of ponies behind collapsible desks, jotting down what ponies yelled out to them as fast as they could.  Twilight didn’t recognize all of them, but a she had seen a good number of them in Mayor Mare’s retinue, so it was fair to assume that the rest were her lackeys as well. Just how many officials does a mayor need, anyway?  The sorceress had yet to spot any of her friends, but she had Spike on the lookout atop her back to notify her as soon as one of the Brave Companions appeared among the mass of ponies.             The noise dropped slightly as the doors to the keep opened, and Mayor Mare trotted out among more flunkies.  Halting where she could look out over the crowd, she motioned at ponies near her who drew horns to their lips and blew a blast to get the crowd’s attention.  The mob quickly quieted and turned their attention to the mayor.             “Ponies of the Mayoral Fief!  I know we had hoped it would not be necessary to do this again so soon, but the White Procession has given us no choice!” Mayor Mare yelled, “Let us see to our appointed tasks, looking ahead to the festivities and return to normality that await us!  Let this winter wrap-up be the best in Ponieville’s long and proud history of undoing the White Procession’s magic with no magic ourselves!”             “If you have urgent matters to bring to the mayor’s attention, step forward!” the mayor’s steward announced once the stamping of hooves died down, “Otherwise, report to whomever you assigned to at the last winter wrap-up!”             The Mayoral Keep’s courtyard became quite chaotic as all but a few of the assembled ponies tried to leave at once.  Twilight was jostled around very unpleasantly as the crowd flowed out through the gate and into Ponieville’s streets.  Swept along, the sorceress found herself near Ponieville’s east gate by the time she was able to move freely.  Taking a moment to situate herself, she spotted Rainbow Dash speaking to a crowd of pegasi nearby.             “Rainbow Dash is over there,” Spike announced, pointing at the pegasus, and Twilight rolled her eyes. “I saw that, you know.  I’m doing the best I can,” the page defended himself.             Spike hopped off Twilight’s back now that space wasn’t so hard to come by and he had fulfilled his mission, albeit mere seconds after Twilight had done so herself.  He still had to be wary of ponies rushing around in a hurry and who weren’t looking out for an individual of his stature, but so long as he stood next to Twilight, he was relatively safe.  Together, the duo made their way over to Rainbow Dash, reaching her just as she was about to take off herself after the pegasi she’d been talking to flew over Ponieville’s palisade.             “Rainbow Dash!” Twilight caught the Hunter’s attention before she left, “What are you doing?  Maybe I can assist you.”             “I’m working on clearing away some of the snow clouds the White Procession left behind,” Rainbow Dash said, “So, unless you sprout wings, I’d have to say probably not.”             “Well, I could…” Twilight said, thinking of a spell she’d learned to manipulate the White Procession’s weather, then remembered the whole purpose of this experience, “Oh, right.”             “Sorry, Twilight.  I’m sure you’ll find something,” Rainbow Dash said before shooting off from the ground.             “This could be more difficult than I anticipated, Spike,” the sorceress admitted to her page.             “Nopony says you have to,” the dragon pointed out, “They got along just fine without you last time, after all.”             “You think I cannot do this without magic?” Twilight said crossly, misunderstanding his intent.             “Do you really want to know what I think?” Spike asked, although he knew that Twilight’s answer would really be the opposite of whatever she said.             “I do,” she replied firmly.  Oh, no; one of these moods.  Well, I suppose I can’t really make things any worse by telling her what I think.              “I think you may be taking this ‘going local’ thing too far,” the dragon page ventured his opinion, “You want to study Ponieville and everything about it, and that’s fine, but that doesn’t mean you need to become a Ponievillian.  You’re from Cant’r Laht, the most advanced city in all Equestria, where a White Procession winter is cleaned up by magic in hours.  They may not use magic here, and that’s fine, but this is Ponieville, not Cant’r Laht, and Cant’r Laht is where you grew up.  You don’t have to bend over backwards to adopt the traditions of this place, and I don’t think you should, especially not if it means that you have to abandon doing what you’re best at.”             “So, a sorceress is all I am?”             “No, but you are first and foremost a sorceress of Cant’r Laht, no less than the personal protégé of Celestia,” Spike said.             “Well, I will show you that I do not need my magic to help with this winter wrap-up,” Twilight said frostily, “I want you observing closely and taking careful notes as I show you what I can do without magic.”             “Oh, heavens above,” Spike swore in resignation as he buried his face in his claws, “Fine; what are you going to help with?”             “Um,” Twilight said as she looked around before spotting a familiar face through Ponieville’s gate, “Ah, there is Rarity.  As a fellow unicorn, surely she is working on some task that I can do as well.”             With Spike in tow, Twilight trotted out to the buildings clustered outside of Ponieville, which had taken more damage than the ones within.  The building Rarity and a few other ponies were standing at the base of had lost most of its roof.  From the cart of thatch and other building materials nearby, the sorceress quickly deduced what these ponies’ appointed task was.             “Rarity!” the sorceress called out to her friend as she began ascending a ladder.             “Oh, Twilight,” Rarity said with surprise, looking down at the sorceress, “Did you come to help?”             “Of course!” Twilight replied, then looked at Spike until he got the hint and retrieved a roll of parchment and a quill from her saddlebags to record her adventures in wrapping up winter.             “Oh,” Rarity said, still a bit surprised that Twilight had come out to help repair a roof, “Well, grab some thatch and come on up here, then.”             The other ponies seemed surprised that the town’s only sorceress was taking part in manual labor, but Twilight didn’t notice.  Wishing that she’d read something on thatching roofs in the past, the sorceress tried to figure out exactly what to do.  She gathered as much thatch as she could into a bundle and tied it to her back before ascending the ladder.  Once atop the house, she sat next to Rarity and laid out her building materials.             “So, where were you during the storm?” Twilight asked, trying to make conversation as she studiously watched Rarity work and tried to copy her.             “I was able to make it to the chapel with Sweetie Belle—my younger sister, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned her to you before—so we waited out the storm there,” Rarity answered without pausing in her work, “Did you have any guests at the laboratory this time?”             “No, the rest of us stayed in the Mayoral Keep,” Twilight said as she undid and redid some of her work, “How is that?”             “Oh … my,” Rarity said as she turned to look at Twilight’s work, trying to be polite, “Well, it’s a good start, but it could use some work.”             Twilight sighed.  She could clearly see that Rarity was right.  The difference in quality between their work was like night and day.  But, she was determined to do this, and she hadn't made an egregious mistake.  Giving up now would be counterproductive, and would also prove that Spike was right about her not being able to help without magic.             “Like here?” Twilight asked, thinking she saw a place to easily fix one of her mistakes.             “No, wait!” Rarity said as the sorceress leaned over and removed some of her thatch.             The roof shifted as Twilight put pressure on a weak point, and her work quickly fell apart as she removed something she thought would help.  She also lost her balance, and tipped over the edge of the undamaged portion of the roof.  As she grasped around trying to keep from falling, she only made matters worse, pulling chunks of the roof down around her.  The sorceress fell through into the home she had been trying to repair, as thatch and wood rained down around her.             “Maybe I am not suited for this job,” she admitted as she looked up through the hole at a concerned Rarity.             “Well, maybe not, darling,” Rarity said uncomfortably, “Perhaps you should seek out Pinkamena and help her with cutting the ice covering the ponds and streams to the east.”             “Perhaps I should,” Twilight said dejectedly.  Perhaps thatching roofs isn’t my thing, but I will find something.  I will help with the winter wrap-up without magic, no matter what it takes.  ***             There were quite a few ponds and streams between Ponieville and the Everfree Forest, so it took Twilight some time to find Pinkamena.  She passed many ponies working to clean up after the White Procession’s unnatural winter, many of whom watched the sorceress curiously.  Nopony had expected her to be out helping, and she was causing quite a stir.             She finally tracked down Pinkamena to a small lake bordered on two sides by frosty trees.  As teams of pegasi shook the snow down from the surrounding timber, Pinkamena and her fellow earth ponies were out on the lake.  Some were pulling ice cutting plows, while others chipped away at the ice and tried to break chunks free.             “Twilight!  Twilight!  Over here!” Pinkamena called for the sorceress the moment she saw her, and Twilight quickly rushed over to the energetic mare under the eyes of everypony in the area, “Did you come to help us with the ice?”             “She’s trying to help with the winter wrap-up without using magic,” Spike said before Twilight could answer.             “Yes, Spike, I am,” Twilight addressed her page brusquely, before turning back to Pinkamena, “I think this might be the thing for me.  Where do I start?”             “You can work with me!” Pinkamena exclaimed enthusiastically as she fetched Twilight an ice chisel, “Our job is to break the ice up into chunks and pull it out of the water.  It’s not especially thick, so it won’t be too hard.”             Like with thatching roofs, Twilight had absolutely zero experience with ice harvesting, and she primarily watched what Pinkamena was doing.  However, like the rest of the part-time bard’s life, there didn’t seem to be any reason to her actions.  She darted around the pond, jumping across gaps and using her chisel to break blocks of ice free, sometimes hammering vigorously at the pond’s surface and sometimes treating it gently.  It was all Twilight could do just to follow the pink pony’s actions and try to determine when to do what.             At first, things seemed to be working out all right.  The sorceress managed to dislodge a few misshapen chunks of ice and float them over to ponies waiting on the shore to lift them into carts.  After struggling for some time with a block that required much more chipping than usual to break away, Twilight made a misstep and ended up standing on the block as it floated away.  She tried to jump back, but as she shifted for the jump, the block tipped unsteadily and the sorceress very nearly took a swim.  Instead, she lunged out with her ice chisel and embedded it into a groove in the main ice pack.  Straining, she tried to pull herself and ice block back to safety.             The groove she’d embedded her chisel in, however, had been scored nearly all the way through, and as she struggled desperately to pull her way back to safety, the ice separated.  The crack split all the way across to where ponies were detaching blocks on the other side of the lake, and the ice shifted.  The ponies pulling the ice plows didn’t see the shift until it was too late, and their blades collided with the irregular ice, pulling them up short and damaging the plows.             Twilight hopped back onto the ice and safety, but all she could think about were the angry shouts of ponies as they disentangled themselves from their plows and the sound of Spike scribbling away.  It felt terrible to know that he was recording her mistakes, but it was too late now for her to change her mind and tell him to stop.  The sorceress quickly made her way back to the lake’s shore while trying to avoid the attention of the other ponies.             “What a mess,” Pinkamena observed as Twilight made it to the shore and dropped her ice chisel, “Where are you going, Twilight?”             “I think I had better go, Pinkamena,” Twilight said, “I caused this mess.  I do not think I can be much help here, but thank you anyway for trying to teach me.”             “Don’t go, Twilight.  Accidents happen; we can fix it,” Pinkamena reassured her.             “Thank you, but I think it would be best if I look for some other way to help with the winter wrap-up,” Twilight said, and moved on before Pinkamena could try to keep her from leaving.             “Okay,” Pinkamena said sadly, before bouncing back to her normal self, “I heard Fluttershy’s around here somewhere with the other druids.  You should see if she needs any help.”             “Thank you, Pinkamena,” Twilight said as she left the disaster on the lake behind her, hoping that it wasn’t as serious as it looked. ***             Once again, Twilight found herself traveling across the countryside.  Spike, her ever-faithful assistant, was with her, but she was feeling bitter at the moment and didn’t feel like talking to him, so she was alone with her thoughts.  All in all, today had gone pretty poorly for her.  In trying to help with Ponieville’s winter wrap-up, she had caused not just one, but two disasters.  Perhaps Spike was right, and she’d be better off returning to Golden Oak’s laboratory to study magic; even so, she couldn’t allow herself to do that.  It wasn’t just that she wanted to prove him wrong, either; she felt that she needed to do this, to prove that she was capable even without magic.  Events lately had been rather odd; she’d had her skills with sorcery put to the test twice in the span of a month, and had lost her magic completely in between.  She needed to know that even without her magic, she’d still be able to do something.             The druids were normally difficult to locate, given that they often blended into the wild places they tended to.  However, with much of the land still covered in snow, they stood out distinctly in their plain brown robes.  At first, they were reluctant to speak with Twilight, but she eventually managed to get Fluttershy’s location from them (likely so she would leave them alone). When Twilight reached her, the druidess was walking among the close-packed trees of a small copse, tapping on the trunks or stomping on the ground.             “Hello, Fluttershy,” Twilight announced her presence, and the druidess nearly jumped out of her robes.             “Twilight?  What brings you out here?” Fluttershy asked with a puzzled expression once she’d regained her composure.             “I am looking for something to assist with in the winter wrap-up, and I was hoping I could help you with whatever you are doing,” the sorceress said before Spike could butt in this time, although, by his apparent disinterest, the page seemed to be inclined to do nothing of the sort.             “Really?  You want to help me awaken the woodland creatures who secured themselves in their burrows when they thought a real winter was upon them?” the druidess asked with disbelief.             “If that is what you are doing, then yes,” Twilight said.  How hard can that be?             “If you’re sure ... ” Fluttershy said, turning away slightly, but still looking at Twilight with a puzzled expression, “I can finish up this part of the copse if you take everything west of here.”             There were some more druids in the nearby fields watching Twilight and talking secretively to each other, but the sorceress ignored them as she went about her task.  She had no idea which holes in the trees were home to birds and which tunnels in the ground contained animals, so she tapped and stomped at all of them.  There didn’t seem to be some special way of getting the animals’ attention, and a few birds and squirrels emerged from their homes, so she must’ve been doing it correctly.             As she stomped outside one particular den, a growl emanated from within.  The sorceress jumped back as a badger emerged from the burrow and swatted at her legs.  Spike hadn’t been paying much attention, and he nearly walked into the badger.  Of a much more similar size, he wasn’t able to flee as easily as Twilight, and rolled his parchment into a scroll before swatting at the badger with it.  As Spike struck the animal with his recordings of Twilight’s attempt to help in the winter wrap-up, the nearby crowd of druids gave off sounds of displeasure.             “Spike, stop that,” Twilight commanded under her voice.  The last thing I need is the Ponieville circle of druids finding a genuine reason to dislike me.  They’re frosty enough toward me already.             “Twilight, look out!” her page warned as a badger emerged from a den she’d accidently backed into and collapsed the entrance of when fleeing from the first badger.             It latched onto her robes, and she tried to shake it off without hurting it or accidentally bashing its brains out against a tree.  Finally, it let go but didn’t give up on trying to attack the sorceress.  As she retreated, she helped Spike onto her back and backed away from the duo of angry badgers.             “Stop!  Leave her alone!” Fluttershy’s voice commanded, her voice oddly resonant in a way that made Twilight’s senses tingle, and the badgers obediently backed off, “Are you all right, Twilight?  I didn’t know they’d made new burrows in this part of the copse.”             “Yes, I will be fine,” Twilight said, hesitating before she continued, “But I think it may be best if I left.”             “Are you sure?” Fluttershy asked, and Twilight glanced over at where the druids were whispering vigorously among themselves.             “Yes, I am sure.  This is clearly a job for druids, and I am not one.  I will try to make myself useful somewhere else.”             “Have you seen Pinkamena?” the druidess asked.             “Yes, and unfortunately things did not go well with breaking ice.”             “Oh, I see,” Fluttershy said timidly, “What about Applejack, then.  She’s somewhere around here, probably near the Apples’ land.”             “Yes, thank you, I will go see if Applejack needs any assistance,” Twilight replied, faking a smile as she left in failure once more. ***             “It certainly is taking them a long time,” Spike observed as they passed ponies hauling away carts of snow.             “What do you expect?” Twilight asked, “Without magic, they have to shovel the snow and cart it away by hoof.”             “Twilight, I think you’re missing an obvious solution.”             “No, Spike,” the sorceress said, averting her attention from her page.             “You know spells that could clean up everything left behind by the White Procession in a matter of hours,” he argued anyway, “Do you think these ponies want to spend the whole day clearing snow when you could do the same thing much quicker and they can get back to their lives?”             “The winter wrap-up is a Ponieville tradition, Spike, and I cannot undo it merely for convenience.”             “Hear me out.  What if the reason they’ve never used magic for this before is because they never had a powerful sorceress to help?”             “Golden Oak offered, and they turned him down,” Twilight replied.             “Yeah, but, I haven’t heard much bragging about his powers, and his magic was mostly plant-based, wasn’t it?” Spike said, making too much sense.             “No, Spike, I am going to make this work without magic, and if I am unable to, as you seem to think, then I will not do anything.”             Spike didn’t raise any further arguments as the two of them made their way down a slush-covered hill to where Applejack was shoveling snow.  Several ponies were walking around pushing contraptions with angled plows at the front, which pushed the snow into long piles.  Those piles were then shoveled by many more ponies into carts, and when the carts were full, they were taken away by even more ponies.  Twilight wasn’t sure where exactly the ponies were taking the cleared snow, but she suspected the rivers, forgetting that most of them were still frozen over.             “Applejack!” Twilight called out to get the farmer’s attention as she approached, “How are things coming along?”             “Oh, hello, Twi’.  What’re y’ doin’ out here?” Applejack asked after sticking her shovel into the ground.             “I came to help with the winter wrap-up,” the sorceress announced, though looking around, it seemed she wouldn’t be much help here, either.             She wasn’t accustomed to carrying anything in her mouth heavier than a book, and you didn’t use books for lifting heavy clumps of snow.  The positions on the carts seemed to all be filled, but there was a plow left open.  Most of the ponies pushing the plows were large and strong, but even if Twilight couldn’t push as fast as them, at least she would be helping with something.             “We could sure use th’ help,” Applejack said, “I don’t think we’ll ever get this snow cleaned up.  Would you take my spot with th’ shovel, an’ I’ll clear some more snow with th’ plow?”             “Stay where you are,” Twilight said as she vaulted over the crisscrossing snow piles and moved into position behind the plow, “I can do some plowing.”  It’s just walking, after all, how hard can it be?             “Are you sure, Twi’?  ‘Tis not an easy task,” Applejack said uncertainly.             “Everything will be fine,” Twilight assured her, “I want to help; just go back to shoveling, and I will return to take your place if I get tired.”             Twilight set off pushing the plow, and things were going all right for her until she actually had to push snow aside with the contraption.  The environment was slowly heating up as summer returned, and the snow was wet and heavy.  Rather than just taking a walk, she had to dig her hooves into the wet, muddy ground and struggle through the drifts.  It didn’t take long before the sorceress was drenched in sweat and her clothes were covered in mud.  She had expected to move slowly through the snow, but she soon ground to a complete halt.             As she struggled and strained to make the plow move forward again, Spike’s words came back to her.  Winter wrap-up seemed designed to be overly difficult, but that can’t have been the intentions of those who started it, could it?  Perhaps this was the best the town could do when it was an even smaller settlement without a single pony with even a smidgen of magical talent, but times had changed. Surely they couldn’t object to just a little magic being used to speed things along if it made their lives a bit easier, could they?  As Twilight struggled bodily to make the plow move, she also wrestled with the dilemma in her head.             “Y’ havin’ some trouble, Twi’?” Applejack called, and the sorceress made her mind up.             “I will be all right; I just needed a moment!” she called back over her shoulder before muttering a spell under her breath.             The plow began to slowly push forward through the snow as the blade became enchanted with the properties of fire.  Soon, she was moving along at a steady pace again as the plow softened and melted the snow ahead of her.  She was still exerting herself in pushing the plow, and that component of her contribution had nothing to do with magic, so it wasn’t really cheating, was it?             The sorceress was feeling a little better about herself, when the plow struck a downed tree buried under the snow and came to an abrupt halt.  Steam began to rise as the snow around the plow’s blade evaporated, and the tree trunk began to groan and crackle.  Twilight tried to pull the plow back, but she didn’t manage to succeed before the tree burst into flames.  A few seconds later, the wooden plow blade, no longer cooled by surrounding snow, also caught fire.  She was forced to abandon the burning contraption and retreat to safety.  Some of the ponies hauling carts of snow caught sight of the fire and rushed over to dump their loads on the blaze, extinguishing it with a hiss.             “What was that?” Applejack asked as she galloped up to the charred remains of the plow and tree, before turning on Twilight, “Were you using magic?”             “I … some … I am truly sorry,” Twilight tried to think of what to say to her friend, struggling with shame and disappointment, “I just … I wanted to help with the winter wrap-up and …”             “That’s no excuse!” Applejack exclaimed, “I’m appreciative o’ you usin’ your magic t’ save me an’ my kin th’ other day, but not here!  We don’t use magic for this, Twilight!  I thought you knew better!”             The sorceress felt terrible.  She had betrayed Applejack’s trust—no, the trust of all of Ponieville.  It had been a mild spell, yet she had known that it wasn’t right.  She was just so frustrated that nothing had gone right for her.  Am I really unable to do anything without my sorcery?  Do I belong back in Cant’r Laht, instead of here?              “I am … truly … sorry,” was all Twilight managed to say before taking off and galloping away as fast as she could. ***             “Don’t worry, Twilight.  Applejack calmed down after you left, and she’s sorry for yelling at you,” Spike reassured the sorceress back in Ponieville.             “You were right, Spike,” Twilight said depressingly, “A sorceress is all that I am.  How did I even function when I lost my magic in the Everfree?”             The unicorn sorceress and her dragon page were seated outside the Prancynge Ponie, which was currently closed for the winter wrap-up.  Twilight wasn’t sure why she hadn’t returned to Golden Oak’s laboratory – maybe because that would mean truly admitting defeat since there was a chance, however slim, that something would happen that would allow her to help with the winter wrap-up so long as she didn’t go home.  She was getting several odd looks as ponies walked by, though there weren’t very many of them out and about town since winter had finished wrapping up here.  It wasn’t entirely clear whether the strange looks were because they’d heard of one or more of her instances of failure, or because of how unkempt she looked, her robes disheveled and sopping with mud.             “I didn’t say that, Twilight,” Spike said, “You’re great at plenty of things, just not anything that has to do with this backwards tradition.”             “Yes, it may be backwards, but it is still a Ponieville tradition,” Twilight said, “Ponieville is our home now; I hoped it would be for a long time, but I am just not sure anymore.”             “Cheer up; you did plenty to help protect against the White Procession during the winter, so don’t get worked up about not being able to help in the aftermath,” Spike said, providing a small comfort at least.             “This is a disaster!” Twilight heard from behind the Prancynge Ponie.             The sorceress pricked up her ears when she realized that the voice belonged to Mayor Mare.  Since the town was mostly empty, she must not have thought anypony could overhear her conversation.  Most ponies would consider eavesdropping rude, but Twilight still had some of her Cant’r Laht instincts in her.  Every sorceress knew that the things ponies said when they didn’t know you were listening were the things that told you the most about them.             “Just how can the winter wrap-up be going so poorly?  What do I pay you for!” Mayor Mare said enthusiastically, struggling to keep from yelling, “You came highly recommended from Count Baukus, and what have you done?  And you, why did I hire you away from Count Trillhoof if all you’re going to tell me is that you don’t know what you’re doing?”             “This ‘winter wrap-up’ is quite different than anything I’ve experienced before, ma’am,” one of the mayor’s lackeys defended himself, “I was not told what to expect here, so how can I be expected to apply my previous knowledge to such a chaotic situation?”             “I had hoped that for once we would be able to finish the winter wrap-up without its usual complications and disasters, and that is why I hired all of you,” the mayor went on, “I needed organization and efficiency, but what you gave me is a greater mess than usual!”             The winter wrap-up isn’t successful.  I had assumed it was meant to be as disordered as it is, but could it truly be that it isn’t the wonderful tradition I’d been led to believe?  As Twilight thought about it, she realized that she had seen quite a few egregious mistakes today that she had simply brushed off because she thought that, as an outsider, she hadn’t understood the tradition.  Why, just recently when she’d returned to Ponieville, she’d overheard an argument between Rarity—who was out of the supplies she needed to repair a roof—and the pony in charge of delivering said supplies—who firmly believed that it wasn’t his fault if Rarity was on the wrong roof.             Supply problems weren’t the only thing; there were so many flaws that Twilight could see how to fix now that she was thinking about it.  Perhaps she could be of use after all.  Spike steadied the table as Twilight jumped out of her seat and rushed around the Prancynge Ponie.  The crowd of Mayor Mare’s flunkies recoiled as the sorceress took them by surprise.             “Madam sorceress,” Mayor Mare said uncomfortably, “How long have you been around?”             “Long enough,” Twilight replied, mentally preparing her pitch, “You have a problem, mayor.”             “I assure you, I have the winter wrap-up fully under control,” the mayor said slyly with an oily smile.             “No, you do not,” Twilight Sparkle said bluntly, shocking the mayor with her forwardness, “However, I think I may have the solution for you.”             “Oh, really,” the mayor said, still managing to keep up her smile, “Well, I would be quite interested to hear it.”             “The winter wrap-up is plagued with inefficiencies and poor organization, as you are well aware,” Twilight said, pausing for the mayor to nod her assent, “Instead of an army of stewards, bailiffs, and whomever else you have assembled, I want you to put me in charge of the winter wrap-up.  I guarantee you will not regret it.  My organization and management skills are beyond compare.”             “It’s true,” Spike offered.  Having lived with the sorceress for the entirety of his live, he felt more than qualified to vouch for her on this matter.  Twilight’s attention to detail was beyond compare, so much so that it was annoying sometimes.             “First off, the repair jobs should be planned in advance with a survey to ensure the proper quantities of materials arrive at the appropriate locations, to eliminate unnecessary transportation,” Twilight began listing off the ideas at the top of her head, “Ice scoring and snow clearing should be done uniformly, not wherever ponies think they ought to go.  Ice harvesting should also be organized with the prioritization of clearing rivers for the snow to be cleared to.  Furthermore, the druids and snow clearing teams need to work together so that neither group should need to wait for the other to begin their tasks.  I could continue, but I think you get the picture.”             “You’re all dismissed,” Mayor Mare announced nastily to her minions, “Very well, madam sorceress, show me what you can do.”             “Right away,” Twilight Sparkle said, turning sharply on her hooves and trotting away, “Spike, take my instructions down.”             “Yes, ma’am,” the dragon said proudly as he prepared a fresh parchment and quill. ***             The banquet in the Mayoral Keep that night was something to remember.  After Twilight had taken over administration of the winter wrap-up and whipped things into shape, the work had gone more quickly than the ponies could've imagined.  Though the sun had set by the time all the work was completed, it was still the first time anypony could remember that the winter wrap-up had taken only a single day.  Those who realized that Twilight Sparkle was to thank for this feat congratulated her, and the sorceress soaked up the adoration.  After everything had gone so very wrong, finally something had gone so very right for her.             “Attention!  Attention, everypony, I have an announcement to make!” Mayor Mare called over the crowd of ponies at various levels of inebriation, “Madam Twilight Sparkle, it is thanks to you that we were able to complete this winter wrap-up so quickly.  The credit for this feat falls entirely on your shoulders.”             It must be killing her, but she almost sounds sincere!             “In light of this, I feel it is only fitting to bestow an honor upon you,” Mayor Mare continued once the cheers and hoof-stomping died down, “Twilight Sparkle, I appoint you to the position of Marshal of Winter Wrap-Up.  From now on, you will be the sole pony responsible for organizing the overseeing of winter wrap-ups.  I am confident that we are in good hooves.”             Like the titles of most of Mayor Mare’s “court,” it was essentially meaningless, but it didn’t feel meaningless to Twilight.  She had proven herself today to be capable as not merely a sorceress, but as a leader.  Spike had been right about one thing. Ponieville was not Cant’r Laht, and never would be, but she had no doubt now that it was her home.