//------------------------------//
// Chapter Five: Run Away 
// Story: Sky Dancer, the First Flying Unicorn 
// by Scroll 
//------------------------------//

    As Quill trotted into his room with the hood of his school cloak down, he was a bit startled by the unexpected presence of his father in his room. Since he actually did have something to hide from his father, there was a brief amount of panic but Quill swallowed it down, convincing himself it was very unlikely that his father would discover it buried underneath the pile of scrolls on his desk. He decided a better strategy was to simply ask what brought his father here and not jump to conclusions. In all likelihood, his father was busy grading one of Quill's many homework assignments.

    “I'm back,” Quill announced upon arrival in an attempt to break the tension in the room. He tried his best to sound calm and collected like it was just any ordinary day. He did not want to sound too eager to call attention to the scrolls on his desk so he decided to wait and see if his father brought up the subject first. If he did that, it would allow Quill to slide into the subject without sounding too suspicious.

    “I see that,” Author acknowledged without looking back at his son. Instead, he kept on reading a scroll unfurled on his son's desk. “I trust you enjoyed your time with your . . . friend,” he said the last word with a hint of contempt in his voice in addition to the short pause before it.

    In fact, it was a little more contempt than Quill would have expected in this case.

    The panic crept back but he squashed it down again with reason. So far he did not learn anything that would point to anything incriminating, unless the guard that spotted him and Stern Wing on the top of the roof in Canterlot somehow recognized Quill specifically and decided to report the incident to his father. At the time that was the worst-case scenario Quill dared to allow himself to contemplate.

    “It was . . . interesting. I dare say, even a bit enlightening. I learned something today that I didn't know before,” Quill informed.

    “And what, pray tell, is that?” his father asked.

    Quill winced when he still noticed an unnerving amount of ice in his father's tone. Pressure built up in Quill's head despite his best efforts. He could feel pressure on his eardrums which caused him to hear his heartbeat better. That and the fact it was beating faster.

    But, no matter what pressure he felt, Quill tried desperately to keep his own voice steady as he spoke. Anything like that could tip his hoof and reveal something that could possibly be construed as suspicious.

    “My friend, Stern Wing, is a fan of the Wonderbolts. Since she is a pegasus, there is no surprise there, but today she informed me something I didn't know. She informed me that the Wonderbolts are not just aerial performers. Today she informed me that they can also act as an emergency response unit and that they have helped alleviate or avert many disasters all across Equestria. In my eyes, that makes them seem more important than I used to regard them.”

    “Of course that's true. They are an elite trained military unit,” Author said with a bit less edge to his voice, suggesting that he was instead genuinely surprised at his son's ignorance in this matter. He turned his head slightly to his left but not enough to look back at his son with even one eye. “You really didn't know that? You didn't know they helped save Equestria from various disasters?”

    “Before today, no. I didn't know that. I thought they were just performers and nothing more.”

    “Huh.” Author turned his gaze fully forward again. “Good to know. I'll have to dig up some history text on the matter. I didn't realize your knowledge on this issue was sadly lacking. Perhaps this is a potential culprit behind some of your ignorance.”

    Author lifted up the scroll he was studying on his son's desk within a red telekinetic aura. Seeing what that scroll was, Quill's heart sank. His worst fears had come to light. That scroll was indeed the poem, “Sky Dancer, the First Flying Unicorn.”

     Seeing that, Quill's mind raced and it came up with one possibility to diminish the impact of this disaster, and that was to act like this discovery was no big deal.

    “What is this?” Author demanded of his son, shaking the scroll a bit within a red telekinetic aura. “Explain yourself. This is your horn writing so don't you dare deny that.”

    “It's . . . just . . . nothing,” Quill said as dismissively as he could. “Just a side project I've been working on in my spare time to practice writing more. It's a way to help my mind unwind. Freewriting, I've discovered, helps me think and refocuses my concentration. I find I can study better after a few minutes of practice with poems like that.”

    {Considering everything I said back then was spur of the moment, I actually thought I did a good job explaining myself. I had no prep time for this encounter and I was also struggling with emotional panic but, through it all, I managed to carefully manipulate my words into something I figured he'd want to hear. Since everything about the stallion emphasized the importance of study, I had to make sure that this project seemed like it furthered that end.}

    “Really?” Author asked skeptically, then looked at and paraphrased from the poem floating in front of him as he turned the text end of the scroll facing towards him. “Sky Dancer, the First Flying Unicorn. Oh ye of little earth. How I mock thee from high on yonder. My piss is but rain upon your fertile soil. You seem so small to my eyes. The whole world shrinks as I fly.” Author passed his son a dry look as the scroll floated a bit away from his face. “You call this tripe a tool to help you focus on your studies?”

    “It gets the job done,” Quill said casually, then shrugged under his red cloak. “Anyway, it's just a fictional story. It's no big deal.”

    Author shook the scroll in his red telekinetic aura again as he exclaimed, “This is what I mean when I tell you to keep your head out of the clouds, and here I stand with proof you've been doing nothing but.

    “Fantasy,” Author sneered. “Fiction. Make-believe. Every time you pay more attention to fictional and made-up worlds, you pay less attention to this one.

    “Why is this world so unworthy in your eyes? Why can't you manage to keep your focus on the here and now instead of playing with irrelevant mental toys?”

    Author slammed the scroll hard on Quill's desk.

     “I'm sick of this wishy-washy and careless attitude of yours, son. You are constantly so unfocused. You'll never master your full magical potential with this kind of attitude. Get it through your head! You are not a pegasus, you are a unicorn. You will never be anything but.

    “Our family has a legacy to maintain. A proud and traditional one. That’s something my brother never seemed to understand. You should feel honored to be a part of it, but all you do is put a halfhearted attempt at your studies while the rest of your attention wisps away in irrelevant and entirely pointless fantasies! This kind of behavior has got to stop and it's going to stop NOW!”

    At that moment, Author levitated his son's poem in front of him again, then caused the scroll to burst into flames.

    Quill could not hide his emotions anymore. He immediately burst out with a startled shout, “NO!”

    Quill lunged forward but he was immediately launched back from the flaming inferno of his dangling and burning scroll. His father forced his son back and crushed him down to his knees with a red telekinetic aura.

    “YOU HANG IN TARTARUS, FATHER!” Quill yelled in anger. “HOW COULD YOU? THAT WASN'T YOUR SCROLL! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DESTROY IT!”

    “I have EVERY right to choose how I raise my misbehaving and ungrateful son!” Author spat harshly. “You need to learn to stop focusing on unimportant things in life and get working on the things that really do matter. Your education and magical practices will help you to accomplish anything you want in life. All you need to do is take it seriously for a change.”

    “Help me to accomplish what I want? Then teach me the spell that will reverse that damage!” Quill demanded. “Or better yet, cast it yourself right now. I know you can!”

    “Of course I can undo this. I can do this because I took my studies and my practice in magic very seriously. What's your excuse?

    “Take this lesson to heart. I'll gladly teach you the spells you request but, in exchange, you have to promise to study them seriously. If you do then you can reverse damage like this yourself and continue to do so as often as you wish.”

    “You don't understand,” Quill cried as he looked down, tears dripping from his eyes. “You've never understood me. How stifling this environment is. I hate it, Father! I'm like a flower that needs more fresh air and sunshine. You're killing me in here!”

    “Don't be so dramatic,” Author said in disgusted dismissal. “You'll do fine. You just need to learn to adapt and take your studies seriously. If you do, then you can accomplish anything. You can be a useful member of Equestrian society.”

    Both of Quill's fore-hooves shivered in sudden and intense fury as they slowly also collapsed close to his chest, then he whispered under his breath, “I hate you!”

    “What was that?” Author demanded.

    “I said I HATE YOU!” Quill hollered.

    Author's face grew cold but there was just a hint of pain in his face as well.

    “I see,” Author said flatly. “Well . . . no pony said raising young foals was going to be easy.

    “I hope, someday, you get foals of your own so that you may understand the challenges that I went through while raising you. You'd be lucky if they never say such harsh words to you.

    “Regardless of your opinion of me at the moment, I still must put my hoof down. I know my actions will benefit your future someday, even if you can't foresee it at this time. You haven't lived as long as I have yet, but one day you will understand when you get to be my age.”

    “Bark any argument you like. None of that is going to change things between us!” Quill said acidly. “I'll still see you as the destroyer of my dreams. Until that changes, we're enemies!”

    At that moment a thought flashed through Quill's mind that subsided his anger somewhat. It was about the warning Uncle Ramadon had said to him about the dangers of a possible ancestor who drew his magic from negative emotions. That unicorn became a powerful force of evil, and Quill had no intention of going down that path.

    With hate keenly on the surface of his mind, however, it actually made magic rather dangerous to cast at that time.

    Author looked down and to his left as he took a moment to calm himself down, then he spoke again as his black-rimmed eyes looked back at his son but his head didn't move.

    “I can't take anything you say seriously right now. I know you're speaking in the heat of anger and pain. Some lessons are hard to learn. These things take time.

    “For now, I suggest we both take some time to cool off. Until then, you're grounded in this room until further notice.”

    “Grounded?!” Quill growled in anger. “I really advise you to rephrase that statement.”

    “You rephrase it. You're smart. You can figure it out,” Author reflected flatly. “In the meantime, you can call it whatever you like. You're not leaving this room until I say so. Is that clear?”

    “I am a sky dancer! I am one with the sky! You can never ground me. I blow wherever I choose to blow. YOU CANNOT CONTAIN THE WIND!” Quill roared then charged at the open window and leapt out. As he fell, he quickly tied the edge of his cloak to all four of his hooves in order to quickly jury-rig a glider for the second time that day.

    Without any sense of fear, he managed to succeed and, at first, he was elated at his quick thinking and escape plan until he was suddenly ignited in a brilliant fiery aura. After that, he stopped in mid-air then dragged back in the direction of his room.

    NO! Quill shouted in his mind in startled anger and panic. He just knew he could not allow himself to be pulled back to his room. After this, his father would put bars on his window for sure and much more closely monitor his son. He had to get away now or he never would.

    {For a brief futile moment, I actually tried to fight my father's powerful magical aura with my feeble own. The only advantage I had was my passionate determination to escape. Since unicorn magic is drawn from emotions, then any moment with strong emotion had strong potential.

    {I was a fool. I should have realized that my father was desperate too. In his eyes, he probably thought he was saving my life. I just leapt out the window and he might have had no time to notice I actually had an escape plan in the works. Instead, he probably saw that as a direct attempt at suicide.

    {Unlike me, my father may not wear his emotions on his sleeve but it does not mean they are not there. When things get really desperate, he'd definitely draw upon any degree of power at his disposal to save somepony he deeply cared for and, unlike me, he also had the advantage of many years of practice with strong concentration.

    {So he had strong emotion and strong concentration on his side. I quickly realized that this was not a tug-of-war that I could possibly win.

    {Not without a little sound strategy, at least.}

    When Quill realized it was hopeless to struggle directly against his father's magic, he instead turned his attention to something else. He looked back over his shoulder at his father as he slowly returned back up to the window he leapt out of earlier.

    Based on the studies that were forced upon him, Quill knew powers like this relied upon several components. Besides emotion and concentration, telekinesis like this also relied upon a line of sight. If a pony could not see the object or creatures they are trying to control through this power then concentration was useless. The mind didn't have a target if the target cannot be perceived.

    Anything would do. Anything to break line of sight.

    He also knew, from experience, that his father could maintain this power across a vast distance and was able to lift an incredible amount of weight with this power. It's one of the things he knew that proved struggling against him horn to horn directly was useless.

    Quill did not know much magic at that age but there were some simple spells even a young foal could learn.

    Simple did not mean useless. If used well, the few spells he did know could help win any situation.

    Of course, like his father, Quill's own spells largely depended upon line of sight too. He would have to time this perfectly.

    Quill waited until he very nearly reached the window before igniting his horn with magic. The result was a tiny explosion of light directly in front of his father's face. For the most part. this spell was harmless.

    Since that flash of light occurred right in front of his father's face, however, it would dazzle his father's eyesight which, in turn, made line of sight more difficult. At the same time, the disruption of magical energy flicked at his father's horn. Due to that disruption, the telekinetic hold he had over his son was interrupted immediately.

    Quill wasted no time capitalizing on this opportunity. Falling again, he curved his cloak to the left this time to sharply steer away from line of sight from his open bedroom window. He accomplished that mission in mere seconds then veered back and forth between various buildings and tall towers as he descended. After that, it did not matter if his father recovered his sight. He would have to locate his son again before he could lock his son down with another spell. Quill made sure that, by the time he could do that, it would already be too late.

    


xoxo



    Star Breeze's father gave his daughter a little time to absorb this one. She looked lost in thought so he took it as a sign she needed a short break. When she spoke again, what she had to say secretly touched his heart.

    “We get along, don't we?” Star Breeze asked innocently. “Now you are a father. I hope my life didn't make yours difficult or painful.”

    Father smiled at his daughter very widely with soft and glowing love as he said, “No. Of course not.

    “On the contrary, you've been a constant blessing to me and your mother's life.

    “I won't say it was all easy. Your baby years comes to mind when I think of you and the word, 'challenging'. None of that was your fault, however.

    “Right now you are growing up with the benefit of my experience. It's the one thing I can say that's an advantage of a challenging life. When you learn more about what doesn't work in life, it can eventually help to guide you on a better path.

    “My circumstances are quite different anyway now and so is yours compared to my own past. Those things are a factor too.”

    “I never felt constricted or restrained with you raising me,” Star Breeze announced honestly. “Nor do I feel like either of you were too loose. I don't know about other young foals, but my life seems balanced, I think. You give me firmness when I need it or freedom when I need it and I'm not doing anything too dangerous.”

    “It's been my observation that parental styles can change vastly between one generation to the next,” Father announced. “That isn't necessarily a bad thing. Each generation can make their own experiments. See what works. Every parent is different just as every foal is different. Life needs that kind of flexibility to thrive.

    “For my part, I'm glad you're happy.”

    “I didn't know you had such tension with your father. The meaning of the word 'hate' is almost foreign to me.

    “Did you eventually work out your differences? I hope?”

    “Spoilers. Why don't you just listen and see?”

    “Because I see with my eyes, father, not my ears,” came Star Breeze's snarky come-back.

    Her father chuckled as he looked elsewhere.



xoxo



    {I'm going to be the first to admit that what I did back then was entirely stupid. If I could go back in time somehow to this point of my history, I would probably yell at my younger self for what he did on that day.

    {Considering the fact that I have the advantage of hindsight, however, I would not go too hard on the foal because I also understand the nuances of why he did it, but hindsight has also given me a deeper perspective of why my actions were stupid.

    {I mean, I had no bits to my name, only the cloak on my back. I had rarely been outside my room before, I had no food or water, I was physically feeble from the lack of exercise, and I was just a young foal. I had no prior experience how to survive in the wild and I knew only a small hoofful of spells mastered.

    {I didn't even have a plan at first. I acted out of pure emotion. Leaving my home was a spur of the moment thing and I acted out of anger without thinking things through.

    {Father was right about something. Being a father myself and imagining my own foal doing something so foolish, I can easily imagine how much I would panic under that same situation. Thinking of that now makes me deeply sympathetic to how I made him feel back then but, as I said earlier . . . I wasn't really thinking things through at the time.

    {Well, I take that back. In a small way, I was thinking things through. I wasn't thinking about my father's feelings so much as his resources. I thought about all the potential spells he could cast and feared that all I knew of was only the tip of the iceberg.

    {In addition, he was, and still is, rich. I knew he could hire as many bounty hunters as he wanted.

    {Considering all that, I figured I would have to leave Canterlot as soon as possible then just keep going. If I was really serious about getting away from my father then I knew I had to avoid all civilizations.

    {In probably a matter of hours, my father would likely have eyes and ears spread out questioning every pony within hundreds of miles and he'd also send out letters to places even further.

    {It was insane to think that if I wanted to ensure I remain away from him then I would have to avoid all civilizations for all time and live as a lonely hermit permanently but, at the time, I was seriously considering that option.

    {I wandered aimlessly, quickly at first, then later slower since I was trying to conserve energy.

    {One thing that occurred to me was to gain more distance by traveling down a river and I recalled seeing some out there. Canterlot is situated on the side of a tall mountain. That perspective affords a wide view of the surrounding valley and, based off of that, I had a hunch that I could gain much more distance if I could construct a makeshift raft and simply sail down a river current.

    {From Canterlot, I actually glided away from the city to gain some initial distance. I knew I would leave no tracks in the sky.

    {I flew down long enough that I had to retie the four ends of my cloak to my legs several times in mid-flight. Better to say they started to get loose but I re-tied them before they slipped entirely off.

    {That reminded me of your mother's concerns using this strategy and she was right, to a point. I had to keep an eye on that. If I didn't, then eventually one of those four ends would slip off and I'd plummet to my death.

    {Of the few spells I knew, some of them were lightly useful to carpentry. I was able to reforge the shape of wood a bit by carving out a few points then putting the pieces together like a puzzle then I used some river reeds to tie them up. The end result was . . . sloppy . . . but effective. Let's just say it was a very wet ride despite my best efforts.

    {On the river, however, I knew I had several advantages. I could gain some distance without expending much physical effort and therefore conserve what energy I had.

    {During the journey, I would also remain close to drinkable water. Food was still a problem but at least I would remain hydrated.

    {In addition, on the river, I would leave no tracks to follow, not even my scent.

    {I didn't know where the rivers would take me but I didn't care. I just wanted to get some distance from home, as much as possible.

    {I actually can't tell you how long that journey was. It seemed like several days at least, possibly several weeks rolled by.

    {Out in the wilderness, I had a strange relationship with time. Things were mostly quiet. I heard the sound of the river, the creaking of various bugs, the snapping of twigs that were stepped on by wild animals.

    {What tended to draw my attention the most was the sky. I'd listen to the soothing sound of the wind whenever it came. Being wet, the winds were actually quite chilly, especially at night but, other than that, I found it relaxing.

    {I may not have had much to work with but the sense of freedom I gained from this solitary adventure soothed my spirit. My stomach complained more and more as the days went on yet I was still at peace. I was actually willing to die like this. If I was going to have death, then I at least wanted freedom in exchange for it.

    {My education gave me a little bit of insight on my trip that was helpful for survival purposes. Occasionally I steered the rickety raft onto the river shore and attempted to find some food. I rarely succeeded but occasionally found some nuts and berries. Today I would find it frightening how much I managed to subsist upon but it kept me going.}

    “Maybe that's why you grew up so physically underdeveloped!” Star Breeze snickered. “Give it a few years and even I will surpass you.”

    One eye of her father shifted to her as he said fairly seriously, “My genes are not the only thing you inherited. If you gained my magic, you gained everything else from your mother. She's got some bulk, as you are well aware. She's heavy but very lean. Very-very strong and healthy. I have no doubt you'll quickly surpass me both in height and in weight. Being light as a feather seems to be a theme in my entire life but you have wings. You don't need my physical assets to carry you into the air.”

    “That, and it's nice to be able to reach things that you can't so nyeh!” She stuck her tongue out at her father to taunt him.

    “Well, yeah,” her father agreed. “Physically a great deal of things are out of my reach from the ground level, but don't forget that I can fly too and, failing that, I could just use my horn to levitate things into my reach and I'm quite good at it. I don't really feel handicapped unless I get into a physical wrestling contest. Your mother would cream me for sure in such a contest.”

    “Yeah, that wouldn't be a fair fight,” Star Breeze agreed.

    “But I know she wouldn't hurt me. Honestly, all that strength and constitution of hers only serves to keep me safer, not the other way around.

    “Anyhoo. . .”

    {Thinking back to that time, I don't know why I didn't get lonely. Honestly, your mom was my primary regret of galloping away. I didn't have many friends back then. There were some acquaintances that I was familiar with such as a hoofful of unicorn students at the Academy or several servants in the manor but, on the whole, I was not missing much.

    {Your mom haunted me though because I knew she honestly cared about me. I remember how she defended me from bullies before. She was always like that for any pony but, in my case, I had a feeling it was personal.

    {I won't pretend that I didn't have a crush on her either, even back then. Of all the ponies I had ever known in my life at that time, she and my mother were the ones I knew I was going to miss most dearly.

    {But there were other things in my surroundings that helped to distract my head and my heart. What I was going through was a matter of grave survival but it was also a sense of spiritual release. Both were important.

    {I really couldn't afford to be lazy on any point during that time. Since there was no pony else to help me, I had to learn to become as self-sufficient as possible. Being raised with a literal and figurative silver spoon, I won't call it easy but I was determined.

    {My cloak, such as it was, was the only functional item I had from pony society. It acted sort of as a blanket and gave me cover for the night but, with the degree of frequency that it was wet, I'm not sure if I can honestly say it kept me warm. Over time it also developed some tears and tatters. I knew there were spells to fix that but I didn't know them back then.

    {I do now.

    {Anyway, as I saw the tears grow, it occurred to me that the cloak might no longer be reliable as a glider or parachute. I didn't want to risk the holes getting bigger. If they did, then they would leak more air through them and hold me aloft to a lesser and lesser degree. I had to preserve what little resources I had as carefully as possible.

    {But, the whole time I was out there by myself, the sky kept calling to my soul. It cried out for me to join it up there. I almost sensed this sense of excitement over the fact that I cut loose from my other social obligations. It meant I had more time to devote to the sky. Perhaps that was enough to help me realize my true potential, and I was not going to waste it. While the majority of my time was spent sailing away, I occasionally stopped off onto the shore to practice flying.

    {Given everything I had known and experienced at the time, my attempts felt insane. It was a shot in the dark, an attempt to do something that defied all known laws of physics. I was trying to do something that nearly every pony in my life told me was impossible. Those words seeded doubt in my subconscious that I just couldn't shake.

    {That was why, when I attempted my initial flights, I did it low to the ground. Sometimes I didn't ascend to any height, just attempted to jump and leap off into the air straight off the ground. A pegasus could do it and usually did. Why couldn't I?

    {But every attempt I made ended up in failure. I was keenly aware of my weight whenever I stood on the ground. The earth made me feel like an anchor. Sometimes I felt like the earth mocked me for trying to escape it.

    {Sometimes, during my initial attempts at flight, I actually felt heavier, not lighter, but the sky kept calling to me. I almost felt like it was reaching down, ready to hoist me up but it was always out of reach.

    {Everything I was trying defied all rational thinking. It was on the strength of a pure desperate wish why I was even trying at all. Despite nearly everything else I learned in my life, I knew deep down this was my calling in life.

    {But, with every failure, doubt kept creeping into my mind and heart more and more. Every example that was not a success applied more weight and pressure to my soul. All the evidence piled up in front of my face, mocking me . . . taunting me. Crying out, “See? I told you you couldn't do it. Just look at this example, and this example, and this and this and this and this. No other unicorn had ever flown before. Why should you be able to?”

    {I also recalled the taunts of the other young unicorns when they noticed my insane attempts to fly. Remember when I said your mother protected me from bullies? There were plenty of examples of those during the course of my life. It naturally comes with the territory of daring to try something new.

    {Perception shapes reality. That's what my uncle tried to teach me.

    {During my attempts at flight, while I galloped away from home, I started to learn there was an important difference between wishing something was so, believing something was so and perception.

    {My wish and, to some extent, my belief was that I could fly but, according to my perception, I was too heavy to fly. Even then I was not an example of the heaviest unicorn. Far from it, but even my light body weight was not enough to just take off. If I couldn't do it then, then probably no unicorn (or earth pony) could. As the evidence of failure mounted, that became a more and more firm perception of my reality. A perception that said, “It doesn't matter how much you want or need this. It's just not going to happen.”

    {I once heard that the true definition of insanity is to try something that doesn't work over and over again and expecting different results. To be unable to learn from your failures and keep on repeating them, but I did learn from my failures. What those failures were teaching me, on the other hoof, was a lesson I didn't want to learn.

    {The more stubborn I grew, the heavier I felt.

    {Somehow I sensed that, if anything, I was actually growing more distant from my goal. That I was progressing in the totally wrong direction. It's hard to explain why I felt that way back then but somehow I knew.

    {I once climbed the tallest tree on a rocky hilltop to just stare at the clouds. I looked upon it with painful yearning.

    {If all the evidence of reality points one way but my spirit points in another direction then I'm caught in the middle and felt crushed by it. It was agony.

    {Climbing to the top of the tree made me feel a little closer to the sky.

    {As the wind whistled by my ears and made the leaves of the tree make a sizzling sound, I heard the voice of the wind call to me and say, “You really can do this, but you're going about this the wrong way. For you to succeed, you have to know you'll succeed. Remove from yourself all traces of doubt. That only weighs you down, making you heavier. Repeat to yourself; I am a Feather in the Wind!”

    {One has to wonder, in times like that, was I really hearing voices in the wind or just voices in my head? Was this reality a byproduct of true magic or true insanity?

    {Maybe, in a way, there was no difference.

    {When magic does work, few ponies indeed can explain how it happened exactly. It just sort of happens. One has to believe. Without faith, there would be no magic, at least none that we could detect. It's a shallow reality for those who only believe in what they could see.

    {In the end, I realized that the truth of the matter, whether I was really hearing a voice in the wind or if it was just in my head, was simply a choice. A choice in what I chose to believe.

    { I learned I had to be willing to put my life on the line in an effort to pursue my faith. I had to shake loose all shades of doubt and put my faith to the ultimate test. I had to make sure there were only two possible outcomes; either I would succeed in flying or I would die trying. If I failed to fly then life didn't feel worth living anyway. I had to be willing to give this effort my all.

    {Back then I wasn't certain how I was going to do it, but deep down I reached a very important decision in my life. One that would ultimately shape every day that followed it.}

    “I am a feather in the wind!” Quill whispered out into the wind as he closed his eyes and stretched his snout out from the tree.

    That declaration seemed to summon more of the wind somehow, almost as if it were a signal he was on the right track.

    Despite all sensibilities, despite all prior logic and history in Equestria, Quill was going to be the first to prove one thing thought impossible was possible.

    “I . . . am . . . a feather . . . in the wind!” Quill repeated then, in his mind, he chanted it over and over again. Each time he chanted it, he forced himself to really believe it more and more. He pictured, in his mind, exactly what it would be like. He imagined himself flying through the air like a feather in the wind.

    Then he meditated, right there at the top of that tree.

    Physical evidence be damned. The truth of this story, he knew, was embedded in his feelings. He knew his spirit would lead him to the correct answer. One that seemed impossible at first glance until a greater understanding of the workings of the universe catches up.



xoxo



    Quill found it peculiar that, in a moment he was going to put his faith to the ultimate test, it just happened to be storming. It did not rain on him and the winds were also strangely calm. Everything seemed calm. Everything seemed quiet except for the occasional thunder that rolled across the sky.

    Up above, the skies were gray. There were enough clouds in the sky to mostly conceal the daylight. It was daylight but it seemed near night time.

    Quill stood on the edge of a thirty-foot drop. Looking straight down, he could see very little that could possibly cushion his fall.

    There were some piles of hay nearby. In fact, that came in hoofy a short while ago as he chewed on some to help replenish his body.

    The way it was placed on the terrain had to be done by pony hooves, and yet it didn't seem intended for ponies. If it were, it would be on a plate instead of a large pile in the middle of a wilderness like that. What came to mind the most, considering the arrangement he saw, was that it was very likely intended for cows instead.

    Cows could talk too, though. Why didn't they choose to live in houses as well?

    It's true that the hay piles could cushion his fall greatly but the fact of the matter was they weren't close enough to make a difference. Not from this vantage point.

    Looking straight down, it seemed that all there was was flat level ground that was just a bit grassy. A fall from this height would injure him very severely, if not outright kill him. If it did not kill him, he would not be strong enough to keep himself alive.

    In other words, he would get only one shot at this.

    There was a part of him that panicked and begged him to see reason. To at least use his cloak or redirect one of those large stacks of hay underneath the cliff. That could take hours, but would virtually ensure he would live long enough to make repeated attempts. The rational side of his mind suggested that repetition was the key to victory. As the old saying goes, “If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.” But that saying wouldn't matter if the first attempt was downright deadly. If practice makes perfect, then it was unwise to make the first attempt deadly. In such a case like this, failure ended all other possible attempts permanently. His rational mind kept crying out to him, “This is crazy! This is irrational! Please-please-please think this through!”

    Quill was honestly tired of thinking things through because that was all he did all his life and it got him no closer to his true goal. There was a reason no unicorn pulled this off before. If this step was required, if they all literally had to put their lives on the line in pursuit of their beliefs, it stood to reason why most would back off at this point.

    It also made sense that those who did push themselves this far and actually made that leap of faith died for their efforts so it makes sense why no pony had ever lived to tell their tale. They never got the chance to warn any other pony, “Yeah, I tried to make that leap of faith and it got me killed so please, for the love of Celestia, DON'T DO IT!”

    As fear attempted to squash Quill's resolve and faith, he had to wonder to himself how many times in the past had a unicorn, or even an earth pony for that matter, leaped off a cliff seeming as if they were determined to kill themselves (and any other pony who witnessed it thought that was exactly the case) when in fact they were not trying to kill themselves and instead tried to prove to themselves that they could actually fly if they simply believed in it hard enough.

    Thinking of that further, Quill also realized that suicide was indeed a little tempting. Not enough to make a serious attempt to end his life on purpose but, if he happened to die anyway by any means, at least that meant he would get to be with his mom again. Silver Shine was kind of worth it. She could at least be viewed as the silver lining to that dark possibility.

    But I'm not here to kill myself. I'm here to fly, and I will fly! I will. I am a feather in the wind. I am a feather in the wind, Quill repeated that chant in his head over and over again.

    Thunder rolled across the sky again, drawing his attention back upwards.

    As he did so, he thought to himself most ponies in Equestria, or animals too for that matter, might find such sounds to be frightening, but not Quill. Quill actually found it soothing instead. It seemed like anything that had to do with the sky he found soothing and very much a part of himself. He wondered if he could even stare down a tornado calmly. Based on past experience, there seemed like a genuine possibility the answer was yes. It felt like the sky could do no wrong for him no matter what it chose to do.

    Quill tried to use that as internal evidence that he really was meant to be up there. If he was not a kindred spirit of the sky, why would he feel so strongly about this? He felt this way his entire life. There had to be some meaningful reason for that and there was only one real conclusion that Quill could draw on. He felt convinced that his inner feelings had to be this strong in order to cut through all the fears and doubts other ponies attempted to impress upon him about this.

    For a pegasus this was no big deal but, for any other breed of pony, a leap of faith like this was truly a matter of life and death.

    You always told me that you would not let me fall, Quill thought in his mind to the sky. On some level I always believed you . . . but . . . if I make this jump . . . that's it. You either catch me or there will be no other attempt. I'll prove it to you now.

    Quill took off his cloak and chucked it away. Since there was no wind, the cloak simply dropped straight to the ground thirty feet below in a heap. The dirt, grime and a bit of moisture clinging to it made its drop all the heavier.

    There! Now there is no lifeline. There is no hay. There is no cloak. There is no pool. There is no net. There is only the wind. That's my only safety net now. My life is in your hooves.

    Quill closed his eyes and lifted his forelegs dramatically to the sky very slowly, standing on his hind legs to do so. He didn't do this for drama, not even on a personal level. He was being deadly serious. This was either going to work, or he was going to die. As he felt it before, he had to make sure there were only two possible outcomes to this situation. To accomplish the impossible, something no other pony in Equestria had ever done other than a pegasus or alicorn, he felt certain he really needed to push himself that far.

    Father paused in his story as he glanced at his daughter in amusement because she looked to be on the edge of her cloudy-seat. She looked to be in intense suspense, so he decided to toy with her emotions a bit.

    {And so I took that final leap . . . and I plunged to my death. All the stories were true. All the warnings were true. They tried to warn me, but I never listened. If I had, it would have saved my life on that fateful day.}

    Father looked sharply at his daughter again then laughed out loud after he saw her widen her eyes in shock. Father pound on the cloud he was on three times as he laughed hysterically.

    Which caused his daughter to realize how ridiculous his claims were. Caught in the trance of his story, she lost sight of all logic for a moment. She frowned at her father while trying hard to restrain her own chuckle. She grabbed a piece of the cloudy-couch and chucked it at her father like a snowball. It splashed against his coat but then quickly evaporated.

    “I find it interesting how you're on the edge of your seat considering you should know the outcome of this story, at least when it comes to one extreme end of it,” her father teased.

    “Well, I wasn't there! I have to rely on you to tell this story and I have to trust you. Please don't do that to me again, you troll!” Star Breeze complained with a somewhat amused tone.

    Father still giggled but he tried to regather his composure. “Okay-okay-okay. I'll stop, or at least stop the teasing. I know you want to hear the rest of this story so I'll try to be honest from now on.”

    Star Breeze settled her head on the edge of the couch. Since the aim of her head was then directed downwards, she had to look at her father above her head.

    “I never feared the sky either,” Star Breeze mentioned. “As you said, it's no big deal for a pegasus. Even before we learn to fly with these wings, we could at least learn to glide with them, as you did with your cloak except we are more attached to our 'cloak'.

    “While you were describing this part of the story, though, I actually felt what it must have been like for you to actually stand there and contemplate your life like that.

    “I'm assuming you didn't actually make the jump, right? Or did you learn to fly on that day? I know it happened at some point in your life.”

    Father tilted his head to his left as he also looked down over the edge of the cloud as he said, “Actually, that's the funny thing. I can't tell you . . . because I honestly don't remember. I did leap, I know that, but what happened afterward was kind of a blur. I learned later why that happened. It didn't even take that long, actually.

    “To put you in the proper perspective based on what I do remember, I'll tell you about the very next thing I recall after I jumped.”



xoxo



    “Sir! Young sir! Oh please wake up! Jeepin-hollers, please wake up!”

    {I slowly opened my eyes, lifted back to consciousness by the sound of another pony's voice. The more I did so, the more I acknowledged a sense of sharp pain at the side of my head.

    {As time went on, I started to notice pain in other parts of my body as well. Pretty sharp pain too, but the leap I just made could have killed me outright, even for a pony as light as myself. If I had plunged straight down, the damage should be more severe than this, so the results begged some questions.

    {Also, I had to wonder, who was this pony calling out to me? I thought I was alone out in that wilderness. I even recall checking.

    {After I opened my eyes, my vision gradually gained focus but the pain I felt delayed that process. I actually remember my rescuer started off as blurry but became clearer and had more definition over time.

    {The first thing I noticed about this stallion, besides his voice, was only the most basic colors on him. He was a light tan pony with a deep black mane. It also quickly became apparent to me that he wore an orange shirt with jean overalls worn over that. It was a lot like the one my uncle wore. This pony also wore a cowpony hat, but not straw this time. It looked more sturdy than that. Leather, maybe? I'm not an expert in these things so I really couldn't tell you.

    {As his face clarified, it gained more definition. He didn't have a beard. He was clean-shaven, though definitely old enough to potentially have a beard. At that moment his eyes were the last detail to clarify. I don't remember it clearly now, though. I think they were dark green. Don't quote me on that.}

    “Hooey! Thank Celestia you are alright!” the cowpony said in relief. “That's a nasty fall you took there, son! Thank goodness you partially landed in the hay!”

    “I'm in what?!” Quill exclaimed then looked around.

    Sure enough, the cliff he leaped from was considerably further than he would have expected. There was no way he could leap this far purely on his own leg power.

    “You must have angels looking after your sorry, ungrateful hide, boy!” the cowpony exclaimed. “A freak wind blew you further west after you leaped from yonder cliff up there. Delivered you all the way out here, just barely hitting the haystack.

    “What were you thinking, boy?! Ya could have been killed!”

    “I assure you, that wasn't my intent,” Quill promised this cowpony honestly.

    “Then what was your intent, because it sure looked pretty deadly to me.”

    Quill could tell this pony was not going to let that question slide. This cowpony saw something extremely startling on that day as well as a potential miracle. One of these things he probably figured he'd never be able to explain, and the other thing he figured he could simply ask about. If one mystery could not be explained then he was going to try his darndest to cover the other mystery.

    But the truth made Quill uncomfortable to admit. No pony, except maybe his uncle, could ever seem to accept his explanation. Just about every pony would either laugh at him or yell at him for telling them the truth. Since the truth didn't seem useful to admit, it caught Quill in a conundrum.

    “I . . . would prefer not to say,” Quill settled. “I can assure you I was not trying to kill myself, but I don't want to admit the truth either. I don't think you would believe me if I said it.”

    The elder cowpony sighed as he took off his hat and fanned himself with it. “Well, I make it a policy not to distrust a pony's word until proven otherwise. I suppose it could have been easier for you to fib an answer rather than admit what you've already told me. To a point, I respect that. I have to make sure ya ain't in any genuine danger, however. While ya are around me, promise me ya won't try anything funny like that again.”

    “I promise, sir,” Quill replied honestly.

    “Ya in any pain?” the cowpony asked in concern as he replaced his hat on top of his head.

    “Now that you mention it, yeah,” Quill said honestly again as he squinted in tight pain.

    “Here. Take ma hoof and I'll help ya to ma wagon. It's just over yonder.”

    “Thank you, kind sir,” Quill said gratefully as he proceeded to do so.

    The cowpony pulled the young foal to his hooves but Quill was unsteady at first. Not just from the pain, but from a sense of dizziness that overcame him as soon as he stood up.

    Since the cowpony was standing right there, he immediately reached a leg around Quill to help steady the young foal.

    “Whoa! Easy, now. Easy does it,” the cowpony said steadily.

    Quill continued to be unsteady for a few seconds but, with every second that passed, he became more steady. While the pain was still there, his head started to clear so his balance came more easily as well.

    Noticing this, the cowpony led the young foal away, eventually to a wooden wagon. He was led to a wooden bench in front of it.

    Looking over his shoulder upon arrival to that wooden bench, Quill noticed the somewhat unexpected sight of many jars full of . . . it seemed like either grains or seeds.

    Actually, it was probably both. There were various jars back there and some of them clearly did not have the same things in it.

    “Hi there!” the cowpony greeted as he held out a hoof to Quill. He waited until Quill took it and shook it before he spoke further. “Ma name is Braeburn Orchard, of the Orchard family. Our current circumstances notwithstanding, it's a pleasure to meet'cha!”

    “Likewise. I'm . . .” Quill was about to say his name but then it occurred to him that his real name might be hunted. He quickly scrambled his head for a new name but then noticed how Braeburn was carefully studying him.

    All of the sudden, Quill gained the distinct feeling that, if he lied, Braeburn might be able to tell. So, despite the risks involved with telling the truth, Quill decided to plunge ahead. After the favor Braeburn had demonstrated so far, Quill figured that this was the least the cowpony deserved.

    “I'm Quill,” Quill greeted. “Quill Scroll.”

    Quill actually saw Braeburn's expression relax a bit. He had a funny feeling that Braeburn actually saw Quill almost decide to lie then suddenly reversed his course. This also meant that Braeburn clearly believed the word of the young foal at that point.

    For what it was worth, Braeburn didn't seem to recognize Quill's name directly. It probably meant that, if his father sent out the word, it hadn't reached this far yet. Time might change that, however.

    Braeburn also seemed like a very honest and open pony. It was just an impression, but Quill had a distinct feeling that if Braeburn actually did recognize the name, he probably would have been unable to conceal it.

    “Pleased to meet'cha, Quill Scroll. I hope our relationship will continue under better circumstances than it started. Where ya from, boy? Based on the funny, fancy talk of ya's accent, I'm guessing ya are from one of those fancy cities. Am I correct? Canterlot, if I'm not mistaken.”

    Quill looked surprised. “Actually, that's exactly right. How did you know? Have you encountered our citizens before?”

    “Not often, but yeah,” Braeburn admitted as he moved to the front of the carriage and strapped on a shoulder harness that was attached to the wagon.

    Along the way, Quill happened to notice Braeburn's cutie mark since Braeburn was only covered from the front end, not the back. The cutie mark he saw had five images on it. The largest one was in the center and looked like a giant acorn. Two smaller seeds were on the bottom and off to the side of that acorn. Two medium-sized seeds were on the other side of the acorn and more towards the middle of it.

    Huh. So his special talent probably has something to do with seeds, Quill figured privately. Actually, that helps to explain all the seeds in the back wagon as well, but I wonder why he needs so many, and what they are for?

    “You should have just asked him,” Star Breeze lightly scolded her father.

    “Actually, that's exactly what I did,” her father returned.

    “Oh, those old things?” Braeburn said in response to Quill's question. “Those are to help out on the farm. If there is extra, I plan to either sell it or just give it to some of my neighbors. Hope it helps.”

    Right after he said that he pulled the whole wagon forward and everything else on it via the strap on his shoulder harness.

    “Think you have enough back there?” Quill asked with a dry look at the seeds behind him. “Seems you have enough here for years to come unless you have Equestria's largest farm.”

    “I certainly hope it's enough, but honestly I have my doubts.” Braeburn looked back at Quill over his right shoulder as he trot on. “The seeds are not the problem, it's the weather around the farm.”

    “The weather?” Quill eyed Braeburn quizzically. “What's wrong with the weather?”

    Braeburn looked forward again as he answered, “The dust storms. Been going on for months off and on. Choking the life out of our produce. Not too sure, but it seems to be contaminating the soil as well. Things are getting harder to grow there. That's why I went and bought all these seeds, though I found a few of them meself. That should keep the farm going for at least a couple of more years but, if things don't let up soon, both me and mah folks are going to have to pack up and move somewhere else.

    “Sure would be a pity. We've had that farm for generations. Lot of memories there.”

    “Have you talked to any pegasus about this? They are supposed to monitor and hoofle the weather,” Quill proposed.

    “No pegasus is causing this,” Braeburn answered. “In fact, they did what they could to try and stop it. Nothing seems to work, at least not for long. Every pony is baffled. This nasty weather sure has got a mind of its own.”

    “Weather acting on its own?” Quill looked perplexed. “That's strange.”

    “Hold on,” Star Breeze called. “Didn't you say yesterday that there was weather working like that up in the far north? You know, where the crystal place used to be?”

    “Well observed,” her father commended. “Yes, I did say that, and to be honest that thought crossed my mind back then as well. I even contemplated telling Braeburn that but I had no proof and I didn't want to start a panic. He had no reason to believe me either, so I decided to keep my mouth shut on that issue and just listen and observe. That way I could gather more evidence before making a more educated hypothesis.”

    “Did you ever have a unicorn look into this issue?” Quill asked Braeburn. “Maybe this weather comes from cursed magic.”

    “Huh.” Braeburn paused for a moment, stopping his trot for a few seconds. “To be honest with ya, my little pony, that thought hadn't crossed mah mind.”

    He lifted his head as something else occurred to him. “Hey!” He looked over his shoulder excitedly at Quill. “Aren't ya a unicorn? Could ya look into it?”

    “Me?” Quill looked taken aback. “Um . . . sure. I can try, I guess, but I have little experience with magic. I have studied it but it takes years of practice to master.

    “Huh.” Quill looked down. “In cases like this, I think I can promise you this.” Looking back at Braeburn, he said, “Based purely on my training and experience, I might be able to give you a false negative answer. If I don't detect any energy out in those winds then it doesn't necessarily mean there isn't one. I just might not be skilled enough to detect it.

    “However, I don't think I can give you a false positive answer. If I actually do detect a curse in those winds then it's highly likely there actually is a curse in those winds. In that case, you'll definitely need the skills of a skilled wizard.

    “As for me, I think you've encountered the limits of my powers right there.”

    “Well, that's okay. All ya can do is try your best, right?

    “To be honest, I do not expect much from such a little guy but, since ya are here anyway, I thought it might be worth a look. The more we know, the less we don't know, and the more we can plan ahead.”

    Braeburn resumed his trek. As he continued, he then said, “I'll introduce ya to the rest of ma family when we get back. I'm sure they'll be pleased to meet'cha.”

    


xoxo



    {To be honest with you, Sweet, I might have actually detected a curse in those winds. I might not have been a skilled wizard yet but I've always had an uncanny connection to the sky. It talks to me in ways that no other pony could hear.

    {Until that day, I had always had a harmonious relationship with the sky but . . . something was off about those winds at Braeburn's farm. Something was bitter about it as if it was poisoned. Something felt unnatural about it.

    {I didn't say anything to Braeburn about it or his family because all I had was just a hunch but it was a pretty strong one. The voice of the winds was different out there. It was lower, steady, and had a dark chant to it. Sometimes I thought I heard mad laughter in the winds. This was the first time in my life the winds actually scared me.

    {On a physical level, the winds were just . . . kind of annoying. Not deadly in the direct sense but it itched and made it a bit difficult to breathe. It also clouded the distance. The greater the distance I tried to view, the harder it became but it largely depended on the wind's speed.

    {This was red winds. Red with dry, dusty sand. It kept going on and on. I think I wrote a poem about it later on. Not exactly one of my most cheerful pieces.

    {As for his family, my experience with my uncle somewhat prepared me for this encounter. This family was one-hundred percent earth ponies. It was still new enough to be a marvel to me but not new enough to have that intense edge of surprise anymore. At least this time I had some idea what to expect.

    {That said, this was a much smaller family than my uncle's. Out there on his isolated farm, there were only five family members. There was himself, his wife, two sons, and one infant daughter.

    {His two sons, Jacob and Conrad, were about my age. Maybe a little bit older. They were pleased to see me and, like me, neither of them had their cutie marks yet. I had an impression of the talent for one of them, however. He seemed to have a natural gift for music, the banjo in particular.

    {As for Braeburn's wife, well she, of course, had her cutie mark. It was a sewing machine of some sort.}

    Father paused as he shook his head while looking down, trying to figure out how he could best describe Braeburn's wife.

    While he thought about it, Star Breeze was temporarily patient, waiting for her father to continue.

    {His wife's name . . . was Lady Hamilton, and yes . . . I did say Lady.

    {In this case, I had the distinct impression that “lady” was actually more of a title rather than her real name but, based on her attitude of insisting she be called that every single time, it vividly reminded me of the stuck up attitude I usually encounter around Canterlot elite except a bit more extreme and desperate.

    {There were plenty of hints, if you knew what to look for, that indicated she was not actually a member of high class but rather one who pretended to be. She had the veil of an aristocrat but not actually the true veneer of one, if that makes any sense. I kind of doubt any pony else would have noticed, but I actually was raised among the social elite. She couldn't fool me.

    {It actually confused me why she pretended to be. If she was not actually that rich, why pretend she was? Who was she trying to fool? Her husband? Her two sons? Me? Her infant daughter? It didn't make sense to me.

    {Later on, I kind of dismissed it as one of those, “Grass is always greener on the other side,” kind of deals and just left it at that.

    {And, to be honest, she was the least friendly of the five. She had that, “What's he doing here?” kind of attitude and didn't welcome me nearly as warmly as the others.

    {Later on that night I found out why. I happened to overhear a conversation between herself and her husband as she reminded him they were having a hard enough time putting food on the table because of the dust blight.

    {Upon hearing that, I instantly understood her perspective then decided I would sneak off some time tomorrow until I heard her husband agree with her and told her that was why he planned to escort me to my uncle's farm and have him take care of me.

    {When he said that, I blinked in astonishment because, up to that point, that thought didn't even occur to me but, after it did, I suddenly thought that was an amazingly good idea. Uncle Ramadon certainly had the resources to take care of me. He was also family and he could nurture my magical potential too.

    {Moreover, I could alert him about this red dust blight. If magic was responsible for this curse then Uncle Ramadon was the best pony I could think of to lift it.

    {Based on the way Braeburn described his familiarity with my uncle, I had a hunch that perhaps my uncle wasn't that far.

    {As soon as I thought that, I heard his wife complain about how long her husband would be gone in order to fulfill that promise which made me start to wonder how far my uncle really was. If it turned out to be several days or more then how did these two meet each other in the first place?

    {Braeburn's response to his wife was an apology. He realized he did her some wrong with this quest, especially considering its potential duration, but pointed out the alternative was to keep me here and take care of me. He also assured that there was no way he was going to abandon a young foal out in the wilderness alone.

    {Since it seemed like I already made a suicide attempt, he was convinced I needed especially close supervision. Ramadon could take care of me after him.

    {He told his wife he would deliver me to my uncle's, dump me off, explain what happened to me so far to my uncle then depart back to his own farm again.

    {Braeburn said that, in the meantime, their two sons were old enough to temporarily take care of the place until he got back. He added the part about the extra seeds he brought back from his last trip and that his sons likely had the skills to take care of it until he got back.

    {She complained about the fact he was already gone for several days collecting those seeds only to have him turn right back around as soon as he got home and take care of some other problem while they already had a crisis on their hooves with the farm as it was.

    {At this point, however, I could hear her losing strength of conviction in her voice. This was a complaint, not an argument. It was as if she already knew her husband would take off anyway no matter what she said, and she probably also agreed with him to a point. Not even she was cold enough to abandon a young foal to the wide world, especially if that young foal demonstrated disturbing tendencies that made his survival a serious concern.

    {I heard her cry into his chest a little bit. I suddenly felt very guilty upon hearing that.

    {I've become a burden, I realized. When I act without thinking, like I did when I went away from my father, I inadvertently became somepony else's problem. I never considered that when I took off from my father but, ever since I became aware of it, it made me think about how the repercussions of my actions could have a larger effect than I intended.

    {It was too late to do anything about it at that point, but it stuck in my head ever since. It made me realize why it's important to look at the bigger picture when it came to my actions. It taught me to be more mindful of the consequences of my actions.

    {As I share this experience with you, it is my hope you learn from my mistakes as well.

    {Know this and know this well, my sweet . . . this world is filled with many good-hearted ponies who cannot, for the life of them, let you harm yourself. Even if it becomes a burden to them, they'll still do everything in their power to protect you.

    {Not every pony would, mind you, but it's common enough that you should remain aware of it.

    {Be mindful of your actions, or you may become a burden to somepony else too someday. The guilt you'd have to deal with afterward doesn't make this experience worth it unless you require it to learn your lesson, like I did the hard way.}