Chapter 1: Spark
"Nothing like a bit of healthy competition..."
The summer sun had finally reached its zenith in the vast expanse that was the sky above Cloudsdale. The fiery orb radiated a stifling heat that caused ponies of all ages and sizes to sweat profusely. The white cloud built streets of the wondrous floating city were almost completely deserted, seeing as the intense summer heat wave had driven nearly everypony into their homes for some form of shade. But not two young pegasi foals, one a pale shade of blue, the other a fiery shade of gold. They laughed as they chased each other through the narrow backstreets and alleyways that ran between the cloudhomes. The bright yellow filly giggled as her friend, a colt, almost snagged her flame coloured orange tail with his forehoof.
"Have to be quicker than that Soarin'!" she laughed back to the panting blue pegasus behind her. The colt looked at her with playful outrage.
"What? I got you! Don't even LIE!" he smiled before galloping with a burst of speed towards her. Soarin's hoof reached out again, agonisingly close to the filly's tail, that bounced up and down as she ran away from him, almost taunting him. Just a little more...
The yellow pegasus suddenly launched herself upwards with a single powerful flap of her feathered wings. Soarin' gasped in surprise, barely having time to register the white wall of a cloudhome coming up rapidly to meet his face...SMACK.
Spitfire laughed hysterically as she saw her friend run straight into the wall.
"I can't believe you fell for that! HAHAHA!" she called down to the dazed looking Soarin', rubbing his head hard and struggling to pull himself up. The little yellow filly continued to laugh, she knew her young friend had a very limited attention span. It was one of the characteristics that made up his friendly, goofy attitude, one of the things that made him her best friend. He looked up at her, his smile turned to a look of annoyance.
"Hey, you never said we could use wings!" he protested.
"Never said we couldn't," she answered quickly, gaining a growl of frustration in response. It made her smile even more.
"Well, if we're allowed to fly..." Soarin' muttered as he picked himself up. He tensed his powder blue wings and leapt high into the air. Spitfire gave a look of mock horror and darted off away from her friend.
Soarin' immediately bolted after her. She was fast on the ground, but even faster in the air. Soarin' was hard pressed to keep up with her, and was pushing his wings to the limit even after such a short time. But he knew Spitty, she was a great sprinter - but had next to no stamina. She would slow down eventually, and he would finally be able to catch her.
Sure enough, after a few minutes, the orange maned filly began to tire.
"Getting tired Spitty?" he called slyly.
“You wish", she burst forward once again. Damn. The blue colt used the last of his strength reserves in a final push to catch her. His forehoof inched closer to her tail as he crept towards her.
Just a little...just a li- YES! Soarin' grinned widely as he grabbed hold of Spitfire's tail.
What he wasn't expecting was his friend to come to a dead stop in mid sprint. He smacked straight into her back, sending both ponies spinning through the warm summer air before crashing gracelessly onto a nearby cloud. Both foals were wound around each other- both laughing hysterically. They rolled away from each other and lay on their backs, sweating and smiling as they rested on the soft cushiony cloud. Spitfire leant over to Soarin' and lightly punched him on his foreleg.
"You're gettin' faster Soar, what, you on steroids or somethin'?" she giggled. Soarin' laughed and lifted both forelegs before flexing them.
"Nah, just pure muscle" he replied with a wink. Spitfire laughed.
"Oh really, well you're gonna need a lot more muscle than that if you're gonna keep up with me for long, featherbrain!" Soarin' turned to face her. Her amber coloured eyes showed nothing but amusement and happiness. He had no doubt that his own emerald hued orbs showed the same.
"Hey Spitty..."
"What...?"
He tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
"You're it."
Soarin' sighed as he came back to the present. He relished in his and Spitty's foalhood memories. His head was resting on his folded forelegs as he sat at one of the circular booths in the Flight Academy's cantine. Around him ponies his age talked and chattered as they trotted back and forth from table to table. Spitfire was at the water fountain, chatting happily to her friend Fleetfoot, most likely talking about the new colt that had just arrived the previous week. Hurricane, he was called, and he had somehow managed to snare half the mares in the school in his little web of flirting.
Virtually every mare who was friends with Soarin' had fallen head over hooves for the tall, strong and athletic white pegasus. Yes, he was a fast flyer, and yes, he had a 'gorgeous' storm blue mane...and yes, he had a sexy voice (apparently), but Soarin' couldn’t work out why nearly all of his female friends adored him so much. Only Spitfire and Fleetfoot weren't enthralled with Hurricane, as far as Soarin' knew anyway. He lifted his head up as he saw Spitty and Fleetfoot trot over to his table.
"Hey Soar, why you on your lonesome? And whats with the wittle bitty fwowny wowny?" Spitfire teased whilst ruffling Soarin' windswept dark blue mane. Fleetfoot giggled and sat down next to Soarin' on the round seat, drink in hoof.
"Yeah, you look like somepony just sat on your favourite pie. Wassup kid?" she asked cheerily.
Soarin' could help but smile at the mention of pie. He had discovered his strange and slightly concerning addiction to it a few years back, when he and Spitfire had just finished their time at the Junior Speedsters Academy. They had gone out to celebrate, and thats where he had discovered the hidden and glorious flavours within a cooked pastry dish that was pie...his first love. Spitfire fell into the seat on the other side of him, her orange mane falling about her face, framing it beautifully.
"Nothin's wrong guys, just thinkin' about later. We got drilling with Coach Cyclone. Just dunno know if I wanna do it". Spitfire gave a look of mock outrage.
"But you LOVE drilling with Coach Cyclone. Its your favourite lesson of the entire WEEK!" she said playfully.
"No its not! I ha-", he blushed when he realised that Spitty was being sarcastic.
"I know featherbrain!" she laughed and ruffled up his mane again. He liked it when she did that. He liked a lot of things about Spitfire recently, her fiery mane, her smooth relaxed voice, her sparkling amber eyes. Soarin' gave an internal sigh of longing. He had admitted to no one but himself his feelings for his best friend, and planned to keep it that way until the time was right to tell her.
But planning on telling somepony you're attracted to and actually telling them are two very different things.
The afternoon came all to quickly. Celestia's sun was slowly beginning to sink in the sky, and soon everypony began to file away to their afternoon classes. Soarin' flew lazily round the grounds towards the floating sports stadium above the main building of the school. Blue and Silver pennants flew from tall flagpoles that crested the cloud built structure, proudly displaying the Academy's colours. The pale blue pegasus watched as groups of laughing stallions made their way towards the oval shaped track housed within the stadium. He sighed.
Rapidfire, his best male friend, was off sick with the feather flu, leaving Soarin' alone as he entered the cloud built ring. He used to be quite a popular stallion - one of the fastest flyers, handsome, and generally a positive and happy pony. Then Hurricane arrived. Soarin' watched as the tall proud pegasus made his own way to the track, nearly a dozen other colts laughing and joking behind him. At least a third of them used to be Soarin's friends, but now were mere acquaintances thanks to Hurricane. The white stallion flexed his wings behind him as he trotted to the benches at the side of the track, saying something that made all of the colts around him explode with laughter. His dark indigo eyes scanned the stadium until he found Soarin's own green ones staring at him with a passive expression plastered on his face.
"Hey Soar, you ok?" Hurricane called
"Hey...yeah, I'm fine" Soarin' muttered in response. He couldn't tell if the friendly tone in the taller stallion's voice was genuine or secretly mocking him, but he could guess.
"ALRIGHT! Everypony line up now!" echoed a stern, rather terrifying voice from the far end of the track. Coach Cyclone marched towards the group of chattering stallions briskly, a look of permanant anger and frustration decorating his sharp face.
The Coach had a light grey coat and sported a black scruffy mane which was vovered mostly by a white baseball cap. He also had an impressivlely intimidating moustache. A silver whistle dangled around his neck.
"Are you all deaf?", he said with blood chilling quietness, "I SAID LINE UP NOW!"
This time he was heard, and everypony made a dead straight line at the start of the race track. Soarin' hastily joined, and internally sighed as Hurricane pushed his way up directly to his right. Soarin' could smell the cologne emanating from his pristine white coat.
The Coach cleared his throat before continuing.
"ALRIGHT! Now today we're gonna try something different. Instead of watching you group of cripples wander around the track like blind foals, we're gonna have a RACE!", he put extra emphasis on the last word, making sure even the dumbest of ponies understood him, "there will be NO prize for winning, they will be NO praise from me, and there will be NO sympathy for whoever comes last. Is that understood?"
"Yes Coach" the entire class said in unison.
Soarin' allowed himself a slight grin. Racing - finally, after term after term of just jogging and flapping around in circles, now it was time for him to really show off. His excitement was shattered when Hurricane pushed past him, flexing his powerfully built wings and legs. The taller pegasus turned back to Soarin' and gave him a sly smile.
The stallions each took up their positions along the curve of the oval shaped track. Thirty five laps, every lane in use, ten stallions per race. Soarin' watched as his classmates tensed their wings, eagerly awaiting the sound of Cyclone's whistle. The Coach pulled the small silver piece around his neck and brought it to his lips. He blew down hard. The stallions shot away like bullets, hurtling away at breakneck speeds. Soarin' watched as each lap was completed, slowly psyching himself up for when it was his turn.
Lap Seventeen
Lap Eighteen
Lap Nineteen...
Thirty three
Thirty four
Thirty five.
The first group of pegasi veered away from the track as the final colt reached the finish line. The winner of this race was a pony that used to be one of Soarin's friends, a dark blue pegasus by the name of Storm Rider. "NEXT GROUP TO THE TRACK!" came Cyclone's echoing command. Soarin' flew over to his starting line, flexing and stretching his wings before smiling to himself. Again, his excitement was interrupted by a certain blue maned, white coated pony.
"You ready?" Hurricane whispered.
"Are you?" Soarin' retorted with a raised eyebrow. Hurricane laughed and shook his head.
"You're in way over your head buddy, I'm the fastest colt here"
"Oh really, well - you haven't seen me fly have you?"
"Don't need too", Hurricane replied coolly, "I know I'm fastest - second to none."
Soarin' glared at the white pegasus next to him with silent simmering rage. He could be big headed sometimes, but this was just completely egotistical.
"And I'm gonna prove it to you - and her..." Soarin's ears perked up at the mention of 'her', and followed Hurricane's gaze to the entrance of the stadium.
Ms. Horsefeather's biology class flooded into the stands, books in hoof. Among them was Spitfire.
"Bring it on..." Soarin' muttered
Oh dear Goddess...why does she have to watch?