//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 - Restlessness 
// Story: The Moon Has Two Faces 
// by Ether Echoes 
//------------------------------//

For some reason, the snow collecting outside the diner window fascinated Light Breeze. There could be nothing less remarkable than heavy snow banks a couple days after Nightmare Night, but something about the regularly scheduled deposition of frozen water held her attention fast even with her dad's stories about work turning one ear. Snow in November wasn't exactly unheard of in Philadelphia, but this much and this early felt strange, like winter coming all at once should have bothered her. She knew why, of course, but even the single, wing-knitted scarf with a few of her mom's old feathers woven in she used to keep her neck warm became an object of interest. She had no need for the heavy coats that jumped to mind for Owen, not even if she were as much a pure unicorn as her dad.
"Honey?" Her dad nudged her shoulder with a hoof. "Your order?"
She jerked up with her ears alert and burning with embarrassment, staring at the pretty young hippogriff at the end of the table. The diner resolved with couples and small families tucked around the wide, rugged seats. More than a fair few had griffons, and a picture on the wall was of the griffon chef and his pegasus wife mugging on either side of Princess Celestia at the bar. "I'm sorry! Uh, let me see."
"That's fine," she chirped. Her pink feathered mane swept down on one side. "Usual?"
"Uh…" Lifting the menu with her wingtips, she pawed through. Her eyes settled on the spinach, mushroom, and cheese omelette she'd ordered every time they'd come since she was a little filly, but for some reason it felt boring. "Maybe not this time." Her eyes roamed the page. "Could you take Arc Light's order first, please?"
"Cut-apple salad with a side of tomato soup." He passed his menu up. "You know, I don't think I've ever asked, Sunny. What's Mt. Aris like?"
She giggled, taking it back. "You know that's, like, the other side of Equestria entirely, right? I'm probably no more related than you, since my mom is from an aerie near Griffonstone. Here's how you can tell." She touched her nose with a wingtip. "My beak is a lot sharper, because theirs are for gutting fish." She didn't say what hers was for, but Light Breeze could guess. Sweeping her wing forward, she showed off the feathers. "You don't see the heavy shine of waterproof feathers, either. Mine are more like eagle feathers, not fit for heavy rain and water like your mom's and sister's."
Light Breeze would have been mortified, but Arc Light just nodded politely. "I apologize for my rudeness. I'll remember for the future and not pry so much."
Somehow, for reasons that baffled her, mares like Sunny found him charming, and she giggled. "No harm done. Here, I'll make us even in terms of nosiness. You're from a seafarer pegasus clan, right, Ms. River Wind? Maybe the Ruby Islands?"
Her mother puffed up with pride. "That's exactly right! We cut through the water as gracefully as the air."
"Well, my uncle thanks you for all the fish!"
While listening with a cocked ear, Light Breeze flipped through the menu without much appetite until she got to the end. Two pages in a very different style, with angular Griff writing alongside Equestrian print, and something from the griffon family in the next booth over tickled her nose. She paused, staring at the menu before lifting a hoof. "I think I've decided what I want." She tapped the laminate. "I'd like a turkey burger, please."
"Sure thing, hon," Sunny said, dutifully taking her order down while her family stared, wide-eyed. "Medium or well-done? Potato fries okay? Anything to drink?"
"Hold on." Her mother raised a wing to forestall her. "What."
Light Breeze's tail curled in around her. Owen had been a vegetarian for a long time, but there was an echo of a memory of meat, and she could remember him liking it quite a bit. The curiosity to see if it would be at all similar was powerful. "I just want to try it. I don't want to have the same thing everytime I come here."
"There's a whole menu to choose from, Sweetheart." Her dad blinked down at it, as if to check, and then up at her. "A whole lot of items that don't have meat."
"Not that seeing you turn green won't be hilarious," Arc Light said, "but couldn't you get seriously ill eating meat?"
Sunny cleared her throat. "Actually, equine kind can tolerate and digest a little meat. During the Holy Days, my dad will partake a little with us, and he's always fine."
"My daughter isn't partaking in anything right now." Her mother's feathers ruffled. "Light Breeze, please just pick something else if you don't want your usual. Maybe you won't get sick, but you don't want meat. You don’t want to make a habit of eating dead animals."
Light Breeze puffed up right back, pouting. All she knew was that her stomach was growling and the scent from the next table smelled so satisfying it hurt. "Come on, Mom! I'd just like to try it. Lots of other people here are. I probably won't even like it."
"River? Just let it happen," her father said dryly. "Trust me; this'll be one time, and we'll never hear about it again."
Her mother sighed. "Fine. Okay."
A few minutes later, the platter arrived with her strawberry lemonade and a basket filled with both purple potato fries and two toasted buns containing lettuce, tomato, pickles, a slice of cheese, and one formerly living chunk of animal muscle cooked to perfection. Something about the tomato felt like it should bother her, like horses being poisoned by it, but that was clearly wrong.
Sunny didn't judge. She just flashed her a bird-like smile and dropped an "Enjoy!" before moving onto the next table.
Her family stared at it as though it might exhale one last gobble, and Arc Light even scooted away.
"You're never going to be able to date her if you react like that," Light Breeze chided him as she dipped a fry in some dressing.
"It's not the burger I'm shying from." He snorted. "I don't want you gnawing on my leg now that you're developing an unnatural taste for flesh. It's fine when they do it."
"It's not too late to order something else," her mom offered hopefully.
"Mom, you fish for a living. Lots of people here are eating meat."
"Yeah, but I do that because dogs and cats and griffons gotta eat meat. You have other options than eating something that used to breathe."
Her dad reached across to lay a hoof on hers. "Don't worry. Trust me."
If they were hoping the smell might dissuade her, they were sadly mistaken. If anything, close range only made her salivate. Taking the burger in her hooves, she held it up and took a deliberate bite. She chewed the juicy meat and swallowed.
"Not bad," she declared to their horrified looks, and ate on. Several griffons at the nearby tables stared at her, quietly impressed.
Her mother shot her father an acid look, but he just smiled. She didn't see what the big deal was, since it went down great. Maybe it wasn't her new favorite, but she wouldn't pass up another if offered.





Two hours later, Light Breeze lay sprawled out on the floor of the living room, groaning like a wounded animal.
"See?" Her father adjusted the radio with a crackle and grinned. "One time. Equines can digest meat in emergencies, but only a little, and I figured that Sunny's dad had built up a tolerance as part of living with his wife and daughter, so she had an exaggerated estimation of how much that was."
"Why didn't you warn me?" Light Breeze listened to the cheers from a hoofball game and rubbed her sweating face with a wing. "Betrayed by my own father."
Her mother nudged her with a hoof, trying not to look smug and failing. "Never gonna do that again, though, are we?"
"Never." She sniffled. "I'm sorry, Mom. I apologize to the little turkey who died so I could lay here dying, too."
"Oh, Light, sweetheart, you aren't going to die." Taking pity, her mother nuzzled her poll. "I'll get you something from the store. Just hold on tight, okay? I'm not really mad, promise."
Something about the way she said that made tears well up far more readily than the blood-boiling pain in her innards might have called for. "Th-thank you, Mom. I love you so much."
Her mother kissed her forehead before heading for the door. "Love you, too."
All she could think about as she lay there wasn't the pain, it was how Owen's mother never looked at him with pity or affection like that. When her husband had done what he'd done, she'd just told him it was his own fault for being disobedient. He'd had to get his own pain medicine from the bathroom cabinet.
"Light Breeze?"
She flinched at her own father's voice, ears laying back. He wasn't angry, though, just concerned. "Yeah, Dad?"
"Is something going on?" He looked up from the book he was reading. "You've been acting funny lately. You know you can talk to your mother and I about anything, right?"
"Uh huh." She pawed at the carpet.
"I know I'm not a mare, but I wouldn't mind if you wanted to talk about, you know, changes. I am pretty comfortable hearing about it."
She squirmed with embarrassment, turning her head towards him. "No! It's nothing like that. It's…" She rolled onto her side, hoping that would help. It didn't. "Do you remember me talking about my dreams?"
"Of course. It's all mostly the same, right? You mentioned that at some point."
"I feel like I'm remembering more of them than usual, and they're… kind of weird."
"Weird how?"
"I see… other places. Strange creatures. Nothing, like, horrifying." Aside from the way Owen's family treated him or the state of his hometown. "It's really interesting, actually."
"I wouldn't mind hearing about it."
She shied back, rolling over her back to scratch it before landing on her belly. "I dunno. Maybe later. I'm still working it out."
"Okay. Take your time." He lifted his book. "You know, you could always write Princess Luna. She wasn't around for that kind of thing when I was your age and having nightmares of my own, but she could probably tell you everything about strange dreams. As long as you're not getting hurt, I don't need to pry into your privacy, but it might help to talk to somepony."
He looked up as Light Breeze propped her head on the couch next to him. "I love you so much, Dad. Did anyone ever tell you that you're the best father in the whole galaxy?"
His smile opened wide, and he nuzzled her warmly. "Only all the time by the best kids in the world. You'll be okay, sweetie, you… wait, any-what?"
Light Breeze blushed and laughed. "I meant anypony. I guess I was thinking about the mixed company earlier."
Even so, the word lingered in her mind. Not for long, though, as her insides gurgled and performed somersaults, driving most other thoughts away.





Even on normal days, Owen couldn't tolerate the smell of cafeteria lunch meat, but today it put him off his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and everything else in his little paper bag. He just stared at it while Tim jabbered on about some new anime he had torrented and not bothered to ask him to watch with. He could have used the distraction the night before. A hand trended down to his chest, where it still felt tender.
A clatter announced the arrival of Aisha and Jaime on either side. They had gotten mini, branded pizzas, since the school had turned over its cafeteria to corporations long before they arrived through its doors.
"Not hungry?" Aisha asked. "I admit, there's nothing all that appetizing here."
Jaime caught his eyes. "How were the dreams last night?"
Wordlessly, Owen fetched a notebook and turned pages. He landed on a depiction in sketches and text of the Fillydelphia-side school cafeteria, with his lingering over the fresh, chef-prepared meals the students ate betraying his jealousy.
"What's this?" Tim asked from across the scratched and marked up table. The only scratches on the equestrian side were from griffon students, and barely, since they were all varnished wood with heavy scroll work. Jaime had kept his voice to the whisper, but he leaned over to look at the journal. "Are you working on a comic or something?"
Owen might not have been able to bring himself to lie, but Aisha could and how. "Yeah, he showed us some ideas for a comic book vaguely inspired by his dreams last night."
"What? That's cool! Why didn't you tell me? I can help with the hosting, if you're interested. My dad gives me some free space on his server."
Owen had only the vaguest idea of what he was talking about, but while a creative project might have been nice, he just felt tired. "I'll let you know. Thanks."
The idea of depicting Light Breeze's life for an audience felt wrong, anyway. It didn't quite feel voyeuristic on his part, but it certainly would feel exposing.
Jaime and Aisha exchanged glances, grabbed their trays with one hand, and him with the other. "We're stealing him to plan," Jaime announced. "See you later, Tim."
Owen barely had time to put his untouched food away, clutching the bag to his chest as they led him outside. He looked mournfully up at the trees, almost bare, but at least moist, damp leaves squished under his boots as they made their way to a table. Even if it was kind of a miserable day, with none of the snow to make it fun, he had to admit that being out under the open sky felt better. It also meant they were totally alone at lunch.
"Thought it would be better not to talk in front of him. He's the kind of kid to blurt everything out and use some very problematic language to boot." Jaime picked up the journal and continued to page through it.
"Is there a reason you're not eating?" Aisha cast him a worried glance. "You winced a lot."
"My… dad says he doesn't want me around you two anymore." He forced himself to take a bite of his sandwich. It went down better now that he had fresh air, or at least as fresh as the air got in this part of Philadelphia. "Fuck him. I talk to who I want."
"He whipped your ass, huh?" Aisha shook her head, horrified. "If our daddy laid so much as a finger on us, our mom would body him so fast. Not that he ever would."
Jaime lowered the book. "We gotta call child services."
"I remember when Jerm did that.” Owen shook his head. “The cops who came joked with my dad, and the social services guy just gave him a warning."
Aisha took a moment to Google, frowning. "Look, I trust the authorities a lot less than the average person, but you should still, like, tell teachers, doctors, and keep making reports. That stuff builds a paper trail."
"They don't care." He sounded hollow. "They just look at you like you're another sad story."
He could sense that they hadn't given up, but they let it go for a bit. Jaime, reading quietly, cleared his throat. "You know, it's possible that these dreams are—"
"An elaborate fantasy world that I'm escaping into where I have a funny dad who encourages my studies instead of calling me dead weight, a cool mom who protects me instead of looking the other way, and one older brother who I clash with in a comical way but actually love instead of two older brothers who gang up on and make fun of me?"
They both flinched at his tone. Silence followed.
Owen had always been quick to tears, despite his father's best efforts, but ever since the Gaines siblings had encouraged him to dig deeper into his dreams they came faster and harder. "I know. I've thought about it all day."
"So, like… you didn't wake up thinking you were, uh, Light Breeze today?" Aisha asked.
"I did, but… if I'm crazy—"
She cut a hand in an imperious gesture. "Don't say crazy. Crazy is a slur, it diminishes people. You're not crazy, and even if you might be suffering from something, we won't think less of you."
Jaime nodded firmly, and Owen blushed. "I… thank you, but most people don't care. If you're off in any way, you're trash. You're not even human anymore, and not even a cute alien like the ones in my dreams. You're just..." He looked out towards the chain link fence at the end of the grass, where homeless tents sprouted between buildings like mushrooms after rain, more and more every year.
Aisha took his hand. When he flinched back, his hand seizing up, she wrapped her arms about him and that was better. "You aren't crazy. You're hurting."
"I…" He swallowed and leaned in, careful of his bruises. "I don't deserve…" He tittered weakly. "No, I'm not going to make that mistake while you have your fangs in reach of my neck."
Jaime squeezed his shoulder, and he couldn't help but turn a faint red at his touch.
"I guess, to finish my thought, when each of us wake up, we each feel like each other for a bit, like you saw. It fades when we acknowledge who we are, but it's… it's never entirely gone. I don't think that's even the right way to put it. I used to forget all of that stuff, but when I think back on the stuff that happened in the dream, I don't think of it like 'Light Breeze did this,' I think of it as 'I did this, and my name was Light Breeze at the time.' I remember it better than what I did the previous day, because to me that was almost two days ago." He looked down at his hands and rubbed the fingers and the backs of his palms. "That's the only reason why I'm still thinking maybe there's something to this, even though it feels like an obvious fantasy. How can I dream the same dream world every night, with no story structure, where I’m just living normally every day?"
"Well, two days," Aisha pointed out. "You've still got until the end of the week. But… Owen, we can't sit on your abuse. Please, let's go to the nurse."
"But, what about…"
Jaime pressed in as well. "Owen, this isn't going to get better unless we take action."
"I'm just… it could make things worse."
"So come with us to our house until this is over."
Owen shook. "He knows everyone in the precinct. If he wants to bring me back, they will, and they might… you know way better than me that they don’t need an excuse to seriously hurt Black people." He put his head in his hands. "I should have come up with a better excuse. I should have bribed Jeremiah or something; been nicer to him."
"No, no." Aisha shook her head. "This isn't your fault. It's their fault, all the way."
"Please.” Jaime took his other arm. “You can't make us sit by. This is only going to get worse, and we already feel guilty not telling. And if he does anything again, we don't care, come to our house."
Owen whimpered and let them hug him as he cried. "They do say friendship is magic over there." He sniffed heavily. "Okay," he squeaked. "Okay."





No CPS agents came to Owen’s apartment that afternoon. He didn’t know how these things worked. Googling had suggested that, under certain circumstances, they would have to come interview them after the school reported it within a certain period of time.
What he really wanted to do was go to sleep, but he was too restless. Every time he put his head on the pillow and curled beneath the sheets, his heart thundered and his head ached. The sooner he could sleep, the sooner he could go somewhere nice.
Eventually, he couldn’t sit still. He went into the living room, looking to where his father sat on the couch. Owen stood by the photos on the wall, by the pictures of them out hunting. Even long before the dreams were clear in his head, he was a miserable lump crying next to his siblings and a dead deer.
While trying to assess if he was in any danger, he opened up the fridge for a drink and saw a bottle of NyQuil on the shelf. His eyes fixed, and he paused, his thoughts racing. There was a way to still his restless heart for the night if he had a mind to.
He checked the instructions on the label, not wanting to overdose if it came to it, but couldn't bring himself to.
A knock came at the front door, and then his night got worse.
A man and a woman interviewed him in his room and had him wait while they interviewed the rest of his family. He hoped—he really did—that it would be enough, and when they left he texted Aisha and Jaime.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and he quickly shoved the phone back behind the bed just as his father shoved it open. Owen went cold, eyes fixed on his, and they stood there for a second, silent.
"Who put you up to this?"
Owen stammered and tore his gaze away.
"It's not abuse, you stupid little shit." He rubbed a hand down his face. "I can't believe I have to explain this again. It's discipline, something that you boys evidently need a lot of, because none of you listen." He pointed his finger at him, face red. "I wouldn't have to discipline you if you didn't act out. You need to survive in the world, and you're not going to get that way whining to everyone. You've got it good. You have a roof over your head. We even make sure you have vegetarian options, even if you keep making faces about the rest of us eating meat. You gotta shape up into a man, boy, because that world out there won't be kind to a little bitch who can't take care of himself."
Owen tried not to cry. He was almost twelve, and boys didn't cry, especially in front of people like him. He clamped down on his throat and the tears came anyway, streaming down his cheeks.
"And now he's crying," his father said to the air. "Fucking great. Don't do this again, you hear me? They gave me a warning, so let it be a warning to you. They aren't going to help you with whatever imaginary problem you have with me, so get over it and suck it up."
The door slammed, and Owen shuddered. He didn't dare leave his room until it was well and truly dark.
The NyQuil was still there when he found the fridge, creeping silently in his socks so no one in the living room could hear. Carefully, but with desperate hands, he measured out and downed a dose, forcing himself not to gag from the taste.
He had no fear anyone would come to rouse him for dinner, not after that. He looked at the crack between his bed, but he couldn't bear to tell his friends that the state had failed him once again.
Hugging his pillow, drowsy and heavy, he turned out his lamp and waited until the abyss claimed him.





The softness of a cloud found him. He sighed, relieved, and pressed his hooves against it, enjoying the pressure it gave back, the slight springiness. To his mind it was impossible, but he remembered a little more of what Light Breeze did and that made it clear. It was just part of the magic here.
The air outside was brisk and chilly, but a wind was blowing softly and stirring his messy mane. Grabbing a scarf hooked up on the headboard, he struggled with putting it on for a few minutes before he got it tucked nicely about his long neck. It smelled like River Wind thanks to all the feathers, and that was calming.
Down the stairs he ran, taking the broad steps more slowly, and then across the hall to the back door. They didn't have much of a backyard, but he laughed and leapt into the snow, hooves pressing through until he climbed up onto the fence and spread his wings to catch the air.
A cute little neighborhood in Fillydelphia sprawled out before him. The houses were small and tight, but ponies walked and flew through the cool day to laugh and talk with neighbors, pick up newspapers in their teeth, and head out to work with smiles on their faces.
For a day, at least, Owen was safe.
"Light Breeze?" River Wind called. "What the heck are you doing?"
An ear swiveled, and he turned in place to look at her in the snow. "Oh, uhm, I had a bad dream, so I felt like some fresh air. Is that okay?"
River Wind's wings opened a tad, her head canting. "Why wouldn't it be okay? I mean, since when have you ever needed my permission to go out? Though, if you're playing hooky from school, you should probably not mention it while your dad is around. You know how he gets about that!"
"Oh. I don't want to make him mad. Don't worry. I want to go to school." He hopped off the planter in back and trotted around. The last thing he wanted to do was to usurp her family in any way. He already felt strange doing this much.
River Wind had other ideas, scooping him in with her wing and holding him tightly. "You okay, sprout? You're acting all funny again. Dream that bad?"
Owen tried not to melt into her, but Light Breeze never could resist. He tamped down his shame, reminding himself of who she really was. The last thing she wanted to be was Owen just then.
"I'm… I'm okay, Mom. Like I said, bad dreams."
"Are they getting worse?"
She nodded faintly, and her mother sighed and hugged her more tightly still. "Okay. We're going to see a doctor, then. I'll talk to your dad."
"Wait!" Panic shot through her, and she threw up her wings. "Don't talk to Dad!"
"Don't talk to me about what?" he asked from the back door. "What's wrong, Light?"
Light Breeze perched there for a moment, realizing with horror that she had mistaken the two. Quickly, she hurried over and thumped into his chest, hugging him tightly. "I wanted to tell you myself," she said, quailing a little at the half-truth. "About my dreams."
Looking between her parents, with their concerned faces, was too much for her. She burst into sudden tears, remembering the disgusted faces of the other ones. "I'm so glad to have you both. I don't know what I'd do without you."
They exchanged glances. "Why… don't you stay home for today, sprout?" Her mother gestured with a wing. "I can stay with you, and we'll get a house call from the doctor."
"No! I don't want to stay home. I want to go to school. I want a normal day. We can talk to the doctor after?"
After what she had gone through, she wanted to be able to be a normal kid more than ever, one who didn't have to live in a place of fear and suspicion and pain.
Her mother mouthed "Don't want to stay home?" as if it were some alien thing. She thought they might refuse, but her father nodded slightly. "I don't see how it would hurt, River. You have to promise us that you feel okay enough to go to school, though, young lady."
Light Breeze faced him squarely and nodded. "I promise."
"Okay," her mother said, extending a hoof, "but I'm taking you to school, and I'm flying you home after. Deal?"
She giggled. The gesture was just too adorable for words, somehow, and she clapped her hoof against hers. "Deal."
The whole thing left her with a faint taste in her mouth, as though she were still an imposter in her own life. Yet, as they ate breakfast and she rode her mother's back through the air, she couldn't think of a place she would rather be.





The doctor didn't find anything, but the whole experience earned Light Breeze special treatment anyway. The whole family curled up by the radio under blankets, listening to serials and drinking hot chocolate.
She felt guilty for not telling her parents or the doctor about the journals, and she thought about it more than once, but even when she reviewed them to refresh her memory, the things in them disturbed her. Flipping through sketches of a dreary school, of a father whose scowling face seemed prepared to jump out at her from the page, and only two friends worthy of the name, she could only imagine their abject horror at seeing her subjected to such things.
Perhaps more disturbing still was how often the words on the page used "I" instead of "he," even long after she'd reminded herself of who she was.
As the night wore on, she listened to the ticking of the clock in the hall downstairs and the whistling of night birds. Every minute that drew closer to sleep was another minute closer to seeing through Owen's eyes again, and that sent a shiver down her spine that puffed up her feathers defensively. His last moments awake had been to shorten his time there.
"Well. I wanted a way to help him. Maybe if I stay up as long as I can, he won't have to get up as soon?"
The thought of leaving him like an enchanted unicorn noblewoman appealed to her, and whether that thought came from her or Owen or both bore no meaning. Grabbing a book she hadn't read from her shelf, she closed the door and turned the magical lamp by her bed low. Since it was Friday, and her mother believed strongly in a pegasus's right to laze about, she'd be expected to roll in around noon at the latest.
Sitting at her chair, she cracked open the thick book and started reading. It was a fantasy novel about bickering queens and nobles that was set in an alternative world without princesses, one considered a little advanced for her age but well within the stuff her father had her reading a few years ago. It was the sort of thing Owen read on his side, and it made her wonder if there were other worlds out there and other dreamers like her. Unlike him, she had absolutely no doubts that his world and friends were real, and she hoped that by reading something that was similar to his novels back home but completely different would help with that realization.
By the time the growing cacophony of birds signaled the coming dawn, she'd barely cracked the first quarter of the book, and though she found it riveting, she also found it harder and harder not to nod her head into the pages. Several times she shook herself out of that falling sensation with a jerk. She did her morning wing exercises and full body stretches, and that gave her enough energy to make it through another half hour and about ten more pages before it became too much.
Yawning heavily, she pulled herself towards bed with drooping eyes. "Sorry, Owen." She cracked her jaw, reaching out to close the blinds and oozing into the cloud. "We'll find out what happens to Lady Blackwell next time. Good luck."
Saying all of that out loud still felt weird. He knew, or would soon enough she could only hope that she had bought him some time.





As Princess Luna glided through the starry void of the world of dreams, she watched as millions of sleeping minds popped like soap bubbles with the coming dawn. Each one was a little snow globe hanging in an infinitely fine lace of silver threads, or perhaps peculiar fruit caught like dew in the branches of a vast root system. All of them led to the silver of her moon, and it was from there she left, scattering stars in her wake as she wove in, over, and around those threads towards the twilight staining the horizon. It would never fully rise, but it was a reminder that she was running late if she didn't want Celestia to lower the moon for her.
Ordinarily, vespers and other children of the night would be the only beings going to sleep at this hour, but out the corner of her eye she caught a pearlescent shimmer flickering into existence before being whisked away. That usually meant somepony had just started to dream before pulling out, but the way the bubble had disappeared seemed strange to her.
Though she searched for a time, she did not find the source of the flicker, nor where it had gone. Her sister would have to lower the moon before completing her raising, but Luna was confident her sister wouldn't mind. If anything, she had become more overprotective than ever since her time exiled within the moon.
Even so, after finding nothing, the encounter stuck with her as she returned to the land of the waking, flying into her trancing body with a rush of stars. She peered behind her back at the fading night where her moon had disappeared.
"Is something troubling you, Highness?" one of her guards at the balcony asked, a velvet-winged mare stepping forward.
"Perhaps." Luna rested a hoof against the railing, as though she might leap back into the dream world, but fatigue stole across her. "I have a premonition, but not enough to act on."
She turned her gaze from the day and yawned heavily. "Let my sister know I'll be by later this afternoon. Fair day."
"Sleep well, Princess."