“Hey, lady. Missed you.”
Rainbow Dash looked up from her book with a smile. It had been a boring book – it felt like hours passed while she turned its pages, never reading more than a few lines – and she couldn’t really remember what the title was anyway. Or what it was about. Or why she was reading in the first place.
Or where she was.
She put the book down on the blanket. There were words on the cover, but they didn’t make any sense. She thought nothing of it. “Hey, lover. Missed you too.”
Soarin lounged on the bed beside her, his mane as ruffled as always, still wearing the open, wondering expression he seemed born with. As if everything he saw filled him with a slight sense of surprise and happiness. Even in the dim light she could see the merriment in his eyes.
“I know.” He leaned over and snuffled in her mane, provoking a quiet giggle from her. “And I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“As long as you’re back, that’s all that matters,” Dash said. She nudged his head and nipped at his shoulder when he was slow to retreat. The blankets beneath them were familiar but somehow wrong; instead of her Wonder Bolts-themed comforter, this was done in subtle shades of blue, with musical notes stitched in dark thread every few inches. She pawed at them curiously before his tongue in her ear stole her attention.
“Are you going to die again, Soarin?” Twilight Sparkle asked. She lay on her belly in another bed just a few feet away, a bluish affair with yellow stars and silver moons. She wasn’t alone – that brown earth pony from the festival was mating with her.
“Twilight, stop that,” Dash said. It was lewd of her to have sex in front of other ponies.
“This is my bed, I’ll do whatever I want,” Twilight replied.
“Oh.” That made sense. She wouldn’t want ponies telling her not to have sex in her own bed, after all. “Sorry. Nevermind.”
“You can only die once, Twilight,” Soarin said. He shifted his weight, leaving a dark smear of ash on the light blankets beneath them. He didn’t seem bothered by Twilight’s exertions with her partner.
Dash wasn’t sure what to say after that. Soarin went back to nuzzling through her mane, which was wonderful, but didn’t provoke the desire she usually felt for him. Twilight watched them both with a calm, measured expression that seemed out of place on a mare in her position.
“I don’t think this is real,” Rarity said. Dash turned to look at her in surprise—
* * *
Rainbow Dash groaned and rolled onto her side. The dream slowly slipped away, replaced by the hazy darkness of the boutique. Her confused mind grappled with the phantom of Soarin that had so recently nestled against her side, now replaced by a warm body that smelled like a mare and felt infinitely softer than he ever had.
He’s not here. He died months ago. You’re dreaming again.
The realization was a cold shock, as fresh and painful for a moment as that first stab of grief she had felt in that hospital bed. It was gone in an instant, replaced by the tired numbness that always seemed to dwell in her soul. A scar half-healed, still seeping blood. Her twitches disturbed the soft white form beside her, and a pair of brilliant cyan eyes opened in the darkness. She felt a warm, wet nose press against her cheek.
He’s dead. It’s just a dream, it’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real, it’s not real it’s not—
* * *
“More ponies here than I expected,” the sandy pegasus beside her said in a low voice.
Rainbow Dash nodded jerkily. Her legs shook, though with any luck none of the other recruits – or, Celestia help her, the cadre – could see. Her tail was out of control, twitching like a thousand flies were biting her flanks. Only her wings still felt normal, straining against her side, ready to leap out and fly.
“Y-yeah. Lotta ponies. Lotta, lotta ponies,” she whispered. Inside, she cursed herself. Lotta ponies? Come on, what’s wrong with me?
“Is this your first time trying out?” the stallion asked. He broke form long enough to glance at her. A few rows away, one of the cadre looked up sharply. Silence reigned until she went back to her inspection.
“Yeah, just turned old enough a few weeks ago. You?” Her voice was so quiet he had to lean closer to hear.
“Third.”
She risked a look. He was smiling faintly, as though his two previous failures did not bother him much. In addition to the sandy coat, his mane and tail were a streaky bluish-gray. A stylized candle flame, blue at its base and red at its tip, graced his flank. His rather athletic flank, she noted.
“I thought we only got two chances?” she asked.
“Two, if you don’t show any improvement,” he said. She leaned a hair closer to hear him. “If they think you have potential, you can keep coming back. They say Spitfire tried out five times.”
Spitfire?! No way. She glanced up at the elevated platform in front of the formation, where a brilliant yellow mare with a fiery mane was engaged in her own quiet conversation with a large stallion. The two appeared to be smiling as they inspected the hopeful crowd.
“Yeah, well...” Her voice caught, and she swallowed a few times. “I’m only gonna need one. Name’s Rainbow Dash, by the way.”
“Cloud Fire.”
* * *
“Okay, circle up everypony. And relax, this isn’t a formation.”
Soarin stood on the edge of a bank of clouds. A few feet behind him, the white surface dropped off into a void ten thousand feet deep. Far below, a faint patchwork of green and brown fields stretched off into the distance. Dark, massive shadows passed silently across the earth, cast by other clouds drifting through the sky.
Rainbow Dash sidled closer to the edge and peeked over. It was surprisingly high for a training venue – most Wonder Bolts performances occurred within a thousand or so feet of the ground. Any higher and the audience had trouble seeing what they were doing. The wind had a cold bite at this altitude, and even the sturdiest cloud structures tended to fall apart within days of their construction. Nothing permanent existed this high up.
“Which test is this?” she whispered to Cloud Fire. She had barely left his side over the past three days of orientation, and was thrilled when they were both assigned to the same training flight.
Soarin beat Cloud Fire to the punch. “This is your speed test. It measures, as you can probably guess from the name, your speed.” He pointed a hoof off into the distance. The ten ponies in Dash’s flight turned as one to follow it. “You see that cloud with the flag out there? That is the halfway point. It is exactly 1.5 miles away. You will fly to it and back as fast as possible.”
“Is there a maximum time?” a dark brown mare asked. She looked slightly older than the rest of the crowd, and bulkier, with strongly muscled shoulders and chest.
“There is not,” Soarin said. “But remember, there are only a certain number of slots available on the team. We can only accept the top performers from each class. Typically, that means one pony from each flight.”
The ten recruits absorbed that in silence. Eyes flicked around, measuring their neighbors. The friendly group suddenly felt far less friendly to Dash.
“Don’t worry,” Cloud whispered. “They like speed, but it’s not the only thing they care about.”
She could help the chuckle that escaped. “Yeah, I’m not worried.”
“Any questions? No?” Soarin looked around the group. “Okay then, Zephyr, you’re up first.”
The dark brown mare started when her name was called, but she trotted to the edge of the cloud without any hesitation. Her wings, slender like a falcon’s, stretched in the air and settled back to her sides. She gave Soarin another glance while he fiddled with his stopwatch, and at his signal she leapt off the cloud and vanished beneath them.
The rest of the recruits crowded the edge of the platform. Zephyr was nothing but a tiny dot hundreds of feet below them and falling further away with each second. Just when she was almost lost in the distance, her wings snapped out, and she banked toward the distant marker at a respectable speed.
“Are we allowed to dive?” one of the other ponies – Chinook, Dash thought – asked.
“You can do whatever you want, as long as you fly to that flag and back,” Soarin said. “Remember, it takes more energy to climb than you gain from falling.”
True, but falling gives you the speed instantly. She’s got the whole flight to make up the altitude. Dash leaned over the edge, trying to follow Zephyr’s path as she zoomed across the empty sky. She seemed to be doing well, her long wings beating occasionally to maintain her speed as she climbed toward the flag. She banked into a wide turn that just barely looped around the distant cloud, and began another dive to regain her speed.
“45 second split, not bad,” Soarin said. He made a tiny note on his clipboard.
Not bad at all. Not great, maybe, but still respectable. Dash leaned against Cloud again. “That’s what, 90 seconds for three miles, if she keeps up her pace?”
“Less than that,” Cloud whispered back. “Remember, you don’t need to stop on the way back.”
Oh. Duh. Dash would have slapped herself if the other ponies weren’t looking. Sure enough, a few seconds later Zephyr rocketed past their cloud, her wings flapping frantically for speed the entire distance. It took her nearly another minute to decelerate and loop back to the group.
“71 seconds!” Soarin called as Zephyr floated back to them. Her chest heaved like a bellow, and her wingtips dragged on the cloud surface as she sat. A few of the other mares trotted over to give her hugs and compliments. Dash stayed where she was.
The other pegasi flew in turn, most of them flying the course in under two minutes. The stallions were slower, as expected, but none of them seemed bothered by that fact. Mares were lighter and built for speed.
“Okay, last one before we break. Rainbow Dash.” Soarin gave her a grin. “Been a couple years, kid. Still got it?”
She didn’t answer, instead stepping up to the edge of the cloud. Her wings, tiny compared with the other pegasi, flapped on their own accord, stirring up white wisps that vanished in the thin dry air. An uncontrollable grin stretched across her face.
Soarin paused a moment, as if expecting an answer, then shrugged. “Alright. I’ll start the time when you—”
The rest of his words were lost as she blasted away. Several feet of the cloud disintegrated from the force of her backwash, dumping two nearby pegasi into the air before they could recover with indignant squawks. She barely heard them.
Her wings beat so hard they blurred into nothingness. The air ripped apart around her pinions as their tips broke the speed of sound. Her eyelids threatened to tear off before she could crush them shut. Goggles. Should’ve brought goggles.
She was already halfway to the flag and started a wide banking turn. Stopping would cost too much time, so instead she cut a loop around the flag and angled back toward the starting line. Behind her, the cloud holding the flag spun wildly and broke apart, and the flag itself tumbled into the air and began its long fall to the earth.
So far so good. Her grin, forced into a strained rictus by the wind, grew a hair wider.
Time to really fly.
She leaned forward, her wings somehow beating faster and faster. Her hooves stretched out in front of her face to catch the air and split it apart. A mist-like cone of condensation built around her, and for a brief moment the entire world was lost in white.
And then she was through. A flash of light, of all the colors of the rainbow, filled her vision, and the sky was lost in streaks that raced past her. She almost missed the finish line, it came so fast.
Rainbow Dash finished the course in 26 seconds. It took her four miles to slow to a stop.
* * *
Dash rolled onto her side, her wings lashing out carelessly in the dark. Something beside her on the bed moved, and she felt a pair of legs wrap around her shoulders and pull her tight against a soft, warm body.
“Shh, shh...” it whispered in Rarity’s voice. Something tugged on her mane.
Dash kicked the blankets away and struggled briefly before coming to a fitful stop. Faint silver rays streaming through the window painted the room with shadows and empty shapes. The notes stitched on the sheets beneath her sparkled in the dim light.
“I set a record, Rares.” Her throat was parched, and the voice that emerged from it was scratchier than normal. A vicious stabbing pain dug into her chest and wing joints. Been too long since I flew. Been so long.
She might have started to cry, then. It was hard to say what was real at that point. The legs wrapped around her seemed to tighten for a moment—
* * *
Rainbow Dash collapsed onto the cot with a groan. They had been awake for nearly forty hours practicing first aid and navigation, two skills that hopefully would never come up in a career as a Wonder Bolt. Her wings were still filthy with dirt and sap and pine needles and blood. A tiny sob escaped as she considered them – Wonder Bolt recruits were required to preen before sleeping, but she was just so damn tired.
Two cots over, Cloud Fire was already dead to the world. He’d given his wings a cursory brushing that removed most of the day’s debris, but Dash could see little bits of bark and cotton from their bandages still woven in with the feathers. She sighed, floated over to him, and gave him a nudge with her muzzle.
“Ugh... go way.” He rolled onto his side to escape her.
“C’mon, Cloudy.” She pushed her head under his shoulder and tried to push him into an upright position. “Gotta clean up, then we can sleep.”
“We’ll just get dirty again tomorrow.”
She paused for a moment. It’s true. Land navigation again. They wouldn’t even need to fly tomorrow, just walk around all day through the forests in search of waypoints.
“Yeah, but... rules?”
“Fucking rules.” He yawned, but straightened up with a quiet, heartfelt grunt. “I bet you’re just after my body, anyway.”
That earned him a rough jab with her hoof. “Maybe after training, hotshot.” She gave him a moment to grumble, then leaned down and began carefully preening his left wing. Most of the bigger pieces of debris were already gone, but she spent long minutes on each row of feathers, teasing the dirt and needles and seeds and grass away with her lips. After a few seconds of effort, she felt him start to work on her wing.
Nearly an hour later, she was splayed out on her back, cleaning the undersides of his pinion feathers while he did the same for her. Under other conditions it would have been a highly compromising position – now, after two months of training, it barely warranted a glance from the other recruits as they stumbled back to the tent. Only six members of the original flight remained.
“Hey, Cloudy?”
He didn’t look up from her wing. He was a little slower than her, and took his time with each feather, carefully brushing the vane and barb until it was completely clean and ordered with its neighbors. “Hm?”
“Why did you wash out before?”
“Ah.” He finished another of her feathers before continuing. “Teamwork. It doesn’t matter how well you do on the individual modules – if you don’t prove you can work with a team, they don’t want you.”
She was silent for a while. He loomed over her, his chest brushing lightly against hers as he moved from feather to feather. The few other stallions she had let this close were always lovers.
Fat chance of that here, of course. She stifled a yawn and kicked at the empty air with her hind legs. He was probably getting quite a show in this position, but either he was a true gentlepony or simply too tired to appreciate the view. The thought drew a chuckle and another yawn.
Teamwork huh? No problem, I’m a fricken Element of Harmony. Harmony is, like, another word for teamwork.
She fell asleep on his cot with a grin on her face.
* * *
“Hey.”
Rainbow Dash looked up from her cot with a start. She’d been alone in the tent for nearly twenty minutes, packing the last of her things. The two saddlebags resting on the cot held everything she had brought with her to training.
“Hey...” The word came out as a croak, and she cleared her throat before trying again. “Hey. Congrats.”
Cloud Fire sidled up beside her. He looked striking in his new Wonder Bolt uniform, even if it was slick and spare compared to higher-ranked ponies like Spitfire. Its colors complemented him.
“You okay?” He gave her a little nuzzle behind the ear, then leaned back to peer in her eyes. “You took off right after the posting.”
“Yeah, well...” She busied herself with the straps on her saddlebags for a moment. They were already tightly secured. “Just wanted some time by myself.”
He was silent while she pretended to check her bags. A few minutes later, the door opened and Zephyr stepped in. She stopped when she saw them, gave Dash a sympathetic smile, and just as quickly edged back out.
“It sucks, I know, believe me,” Cloud said. He sat on his haunches beside her. “It hurt, especially that first time. I was so sure I’d make it – I was destined to be a Wonder Bolt, right? How could I possibly wash out?”
The saddlebags swam in her vision for a moment. She blinked rapidly until her vision cleared, and pair of hot trails etched their way down her cheeks.
“I was so angry afterwards,” he continued. If he noticed her tears, he was wise enough to keep that observation to himself. “I didn’t even fly for almost a month. Why bother, right? It just felt so fucking pointless after all that pain. I mean, I worked my ass off, gave them my best, and it still wasn’t good enough.”
They were silent again for a while. She gave up pretending to fix her bags and simply sat with her head low, her ears limp against her cheeks. The tears began to flow freely.
“But when that next course started nine months later, I was the first pony in line.” He paused to look around the barracks. “I’ve spent almost a year of my life here, going through this course. Three tries and I finally passed. Trust me, Dash, it’s worth it.”
She snorted. “What makes you think I’m coming back?”
He laughed – he actually laughed. The sound was as loud as the crack of a whip in the empty barracks. “You? Dash, everyone knows you’re meant to be here. One washout isn’t going to change that. Just do whatever it is Soarin said, and you’ll pass next time.”
Whatever Soarin said. She tried not to think about that. He’d been so kind, so understanding to her. Just like all the other washouts, she assumed. It was part of his job to see them off gently, with a helpful word or two of encouragement. He had lots of practice.
“He said I needed to be a team player,” she said. “Help my flight mates, not try to beat them.”
He mantled his wings in a shrug. “You were a bit competitive.”
“So what am I supposed to do for nine months?”
“Do what I did.” He nuzzled her cheek again, and then stood to leave. “Stop being angry and start practicing.”
* * *
Rainbow Dash kicked her legs weakly, striking the pony asleep beside her. Whoever it was mumbled something in their sleep and edged away from her hooves. It sounded female, and Dash’s sleep-fogged mind finally connected Rarity’s name and image to the soft form sharing the darkness with her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Wings hurt.”
The bed shifted beneath her as Rarity adjusted her weight. Hooves pushed back against hers, lightly forcing them into the sheets, and she felt the top of Rarity’s snout nestle beneath her chin. Warm breath tickled her neck.
She tried to struggle, but it was simply too much effort, and the body in her arms was far too precious to disturb. Her tense muscles slowly eased, her limbs and wings melting back into limp surrender. She let out a long breath, and sleep overwhelmed her again.
* * *
“Nervous?”
Rainbow Dash heard the voice but did not see its owner. Her eyes were closed in what passed for meditation for her: deep breath in, hold, release, hold. Wait. Count the beats of her heart, feel her feathers vibrate with each pulse of her blood. Wait for the nervous burn in her legs, for the tight panic to coil in her chest. Wait more, until her lungs began to scream. Wait even more, just to prove she could.
Finally, deep breath in. Hold. Release. Hold.
“Guess not,” the voice said. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know it was Cloud Fire.
“Why should I be?” she asked. “The flight went well. That could have been a real show.”
“It was pretty good.” He was standing right behind her, now. “But that’s not all they care about. They need a pony who will be a teammate first, and a brilliant flyer second.”
She rolled her shoulders. They were sore from her flight, and would ache terribly tomorrow, but none of that bothered her now. She was, for the first time in a long time, at peace.
“I did my best. If that’s not good enough, then I’ll try again in nine months.”
“Third time’s the charm, huh?” He chuckled.
She opened her eyes and turned. He looked the same as the last time she had seen him, nearly a year ago. Same blue uniform, now with a few more decorations.
“Well, hopefully two will be enough.” She leaned forward to give him a polite brush with her cheek. “I don’t suppose you saw the results?”
“Me?” He snorted. “I barely know what town we’re going to next, much less the selection results. Only Spitfire and the evaluation board know that.”
“Hm.” She leaned back and took another few slow breaths. Her wings were still tight, and she flexed them a few times. The mock show, the final test for Wonder Bolt recruits, hadn’t been the most strenuous of exercises, but it came after three months of rigorous, exhausting training. Even the most athletic of pegasi – like her – were bound to be a bit sore at this point.
“Hey, Cloudy?”
“Yeah?”
“You ever wonder what else you could’ve been? Aside from this?” She reached out with a wingtip to brush the Wonder Bolts insignia on his flank. The touch lingered a moment longer than it needed to.
He took his time before answering. Outside, in the auditorium, hundreds of ponies filled the vast space with murmurs and rustling as they waited for the final score posting.
“I honestly don’t know,” he finally said. “Be something else? Be normal? No. Not for me.”
“What’s wrong with normal?”
“It’s not wrong, it’s just...” He frowned. “It’s not for me, you know?”
They were silent again. The murmur from the auditorium grew louder as more ponies arrived. In only a few minutes, the cadre would arrive and reveal which lucky few recruits would soon be wearing the Wonder Bolts uniform.
“I think I do,” she said. The posting didn’t matter, she realized. If she didn’t pass today, then she would next year, or the year after that. Being a Wonder Bolt was her life’s goal, which meant she had her whole life to make it.
“C’mon, let’s go watch the posting.”
* * *
Cinders drifted on furnace winds.
Rainbow Dash opened her left eye. The right was clotted shut and screamed its pain. Hot dirt ground against her face as she struggled in a futile attempt to rise to her hooves. Her body failed, broken far beyond the weakling punishments it had endured in the foalish crashes of her youth, and she flailed helplessly on the ground.
She dreamed of pain, and when she woke, her dream came true.
* * *
She jerked awake with a gasp. For a brief, brief moment, the dark of night too closely resembled the horrid shadows of her dream, and panic clutched her heart. Her coat was soaked with cold sweat, and as the fear and confusion subsided, she began to shiver. A dull pain radiated from the old break in her left foreleg, like the ghost of an injury long past. She flexed her hoof back and forth until the ache began to subside.
Fucking dreams. Fucking, fucking dreams.
She felt movement by her side. Rarity was awake and looking up with her huge, endlessly deep eyes. They were like wells, and Dash could have gazed into them all night.
Ugh I’m getting sweat all over her gross—
“Dreams?” Rarity asked. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible in the darkness.
There was no point in answering. Dash laid her head on her crossed hooves and covered her face with a wing. A few seconds later, Rarity tugged it aside and set her head beside Dash’s. Her breath was warm and sweet, with a hint of the cider and wine from hours before.
“Do you... does this happen often, dear?”
What do you think? Dash turned her head onto its side, so she wouldn’t have to face those endless eyes. “No.”
“Hm.” Rarity didn’t sound convinced. “Have you tried talking about them?”
She snorted. "They’re dreams, Rarity. They don’t mean anything.”
“Yes, but—”
“They don’t mean anything,” Dash said again. “They’re just memories. Just ghosts.”
Rarity was silent. Eventually, Dash felt her turn again, and the warmth of her breath faded, replaced by the chill of night.
Fucking dreams.