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Cursory Streak, an unbound, entered sector 7-S airspace. The warning veil around the sector was yellow, with occasional orange flashes. It did not cover the entire perimeter, but there was no reason to avoid registration, so Cursory did not fly around it.
Metropolis did not know how to speak, at least not in a civilian language. And yet, flying through the veil, Cursory felt a warm ringing touch on her head; now the city knew where the pegasus was, and took a note of that.
There was no mood in the great city’s signal, except perhaps a calm and wordless ‘good luck beyond the general limits.’ In any case, She certainly did not mind.
But the voice of future-Cursory in her thoughts remarked with a hint of irony: “Be careful, please. You could ruin your body, and where do you think I should live afterwards?" Cursory closed her eyes and saw this-herself. Large, unhurried, graceful, in a dark blue translucent dress, completely unsuitable for a flight, with a horn long and thin... The fantasy vanished, being impossible; the warning was also forgotten.
Cursory Streak, an unbound, flew further under the stars’ icy light.
She did not know exactly where she was going, and not every sector had a site where ponies could request a search for the missing ones. More importantly, she had no intention to follow a slow and boring process.
Beaten paths were for adults.
The stars looked at her with attention and curiosity, but did not invite and did not show the way, and the magnetic sense was responding from all sides thrice per beat, making it hard to feel the real direction.
In order not to get lost and keep her way back, Cursory began to summon tracking fires. Each next one asked for more power, but she did not know how to give up.
All the buildings were unbearably high, and it was impossible to distinguish the main one among them, neither by the spires, nor by the color, nor by the place among other buildings. If you build so many floors, why don't you start on the clouds?
On the clock, which she managed to find, veering off the course, there were too few lines, and, by their appearance, they were counting only Black Moon’s slices.
So, having decided to not go deeper into the sector, she flew around one of the gray towers, found a slightly open window, and flew into it, blowing the frame inwards with a charge of hot air.
The room turned out to be a living one — a bed, a desk, several paintings on the walls, a plain pearl light from the ceiling, a half-open wardrobe with books and clothes, an earth pony sleeping peacefully — or rather, just was sleeping, Cursory thought — on the bed, in dark green coat and without a cutie mark.
Cursory waved her hoof at him and introduced herself, “I'm from... outside. I’m called Cursory. I am unbound, so don't annoy me. I need to find Rapid Fire. Nopony flies away from me without warning, and nopony takes from me what I own when I haven’t agreed to share — and I didn’t!”
The inhabitant of the room shook his head and replied, “Can you, uh, back off a bit, preferably out of my room? You're too bright. And you just woke me up,” He reached for the bedside table and picked up his glasses, adjusted them to his eyes. His gaze became attentive, focused, although the red mane, as Cursory noted, still left much to be desired.
“I can, but I won't. Are you shy?” she smirked.
He frowned, then smiled, “No. And then, apparently, you are welcome. Do not step on green tiles, or touch anything orange at all. I'll just inform a station that I have an issue, and meanwhile make breakfast. For us two. Do you know your biochem?”
Cursory automatically said it out — a line of nine numbers and letters that was asked in any restaurant or cafe, especially in a hospital — and only then she realized that it betrayed her real age. She decided on principle not to admit that it was important, and then there was a chance that the pony did not know how to extract it from the code. And yet, an excessive detail about herself.
“The second shelf from the bottom, starting from the window’s side. Large print, color pictures, adventures. I'm in the kitchen, don't get lost and don't get bored,” the pony got out of bed and walked to the door with an awkward limping gait.
Cursory blushed. First, he knew. Secondly, he made fun of Cursory being too young for an unbound, or, even worse, he simply did not believe her.
Well, I could find somepony else... With a sharp flap of her wings, she remembered fire, but could not awaken anything but pitiful hissing sparks.
But the pony turned around, wide-eyed, “Hey! My books!”
Cursory sat down on the floor, “Forget your books! My friend went out there, and you dare to make fun of me!”
He turned and walked over to her, stopping at the accepted distance of five steps.
“So we'll find them,” he said confidently.
“I'll find him myself!” Cursory snapped. “I did not ask and do not ask for your help!”
He chuckled but said nothing.
Cursory did not immediately realize that there won’t be an answer, and she had to awkwardly finish, “I just need to find out where Rapid Fire is. This is another question!”
“Yes, of course,” he nodded, and the speech was calm, soothing, like when talking to a foal, and it made her even more angry. “You are completely exhausted, below zero of your power. I am Exam, by the way. Breakfast will be for two, anyway. Please try to restrain yourself and not get angry, or you will hurt yourself. And I'll send a report — the window still needs to be fixed, whether you’re an unbound or not. Mom will be angry.”
“As you wish,” said Cursory with a weak flash of anger, “Do what you want, moron, you won't even suit me as an accessory.”
He only sighed, and soon Cursory heard the smell of hot chamomile sandwiches with milk, and she herself did not understand how she ended up in the kitchen, and then fed and sleepy. Half asleep, she barely made out Exam’s words: “The unbound, Cursory, nine rounds in total, knocked out my window, is looking for a friend who flew in or came to us... yes, an unbound, I am sure, and yes, nine rounds old, and appears the same. For all the stars, I’m nine and four, and I’m not yet… but will you fix the window? Yes, she has a mark, blue star with a tail. A comet. And fire, did I say about fire? This is important, really! She reaches for it even without...”
When she woke up, she was in a spacious bed, not her own, carefully covered with a blanket. In the line of her sight there was a window with traces of repairs. The ceiling had a dark purple shine and familiar patterns of constellations, from the Staff to the Serpent. Beside her bed stood none other than Black Moon.
"Ouch..." whispered Cursory Streak, an unbound.