//------------------------------// // Wind // Story: Clastic Glow // by Rocinante //------------------------------// His private study buzzed with new life. A pile of notes from his study session with Twilight Sparkle the night before littered his desk. The mannequin and its wing had been removed to the large interior shop. In it’s place esoteric instruments were pulled from their cases and carefully placed in a circle. Walking into the focus of the device he squinted, taking note of their various movements, clicks, and color changes. A rare genuine smile spread across his face. New mysteries were being revealed to him, new concepts, new tools. It was the first big leap he had made since learning to manipulate the phantom limb years ago. There was a gentle rapping against the door. “Come in,” Swage called out. Scootaloo had found the storefront and workshop locked,and the outside forge cold. Intruding into outside work area, she knocked on the door to his study. A brite voice beckoned her to come in. He was scribbling something incomprehensible on the blackboard as she entered. “Want some hot tea?” he asked. “Fluttershy sells the best mint tea I’ve ever had, picked some up this morning. How was school?” He said all in one breath. “I’d love some” She said, dumbfounded. The smithy had a foal-like energy about him. Pointing to a few cushions on the floor Swage commented, “Have a seat. When I get back we’ll get started” - - - Scootaloo sat sipping her tea as the smithy measured her wings. “Ok, now your family, they ever had problems flying?” he asked. She snickered at the question. “My folks are earth ponies, sister, too.” “Wow, you’re a rare throw back then. Grandparents?” “No, but I had great grandparents on both sides that were Pegasi.” Finishing up his notes, Swage drank from his tea. His eyes glassed over for a moment, thinking hard about the nature of the problem. “Stand in the circle there, let me run some tests.” She stood and stepped into the center of the room apprehensively. The little devices that littered the floor started coming to life, each one making some unique response to her presence.  Swage paced around the circle checking each device, stopping to make notes on a few. “Flap your wings,”  he requested. The little mare buzzed her wings like she would on her scooter, sending some of the loose paper in the room flying. The smithy made notes on the movement of one particular device. “That’s good.” He moved to another. “Now close your eyes and focus on the wind outside.” He bent closer to the little machine anticipating its movements. “What?” the filly blurted. Looking up from his machine “I need you to really focus on feeling the wind move.” Scootaloo blinked and scratched her head. “You’re not making any sense, we’re inside.” “I know the walls are thick but...” Something in Scootaloo’s eyes interrupted his train of thought. “You can’t feel the air move at all, can you?” The smithy’s eyes went sad again, but this was different, this was pity and not remorse. “Well of course I can feel the wind on my coat,” she mumbled, confused with the sudden change in mood. Swage shook his head. stepping forward he sat down bringing their eyes level. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. Her eyes closed, but the furrow on her brow said she was anything but relaxed. He touched the little spot of tension on her face. “Relax, lay down if you need too.” Taking a deep breath she laid down, not quite sure how to relax while sitting up. Swage felt a gust outside. Over the past eight years he had come to hate the feeling, but this time he smiled at the ensation. “There! you feel that?” She looked up at him with one eye, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling.” “The wind, moving your Pegasus blood. The wind in your soul that wants to join the breeze without.” Swage stopped himself, she was looking more confused with every word. This was just like when he first started trying to enchant. The hours he had spent trying to “see” and “feel” things he only had words for. Taking his own advice, Swage relaxed and took a seat near the filly. He spoke in a gentle, droning tone. “Close your eyes and breath. Big full breaths.” Pausing, he waited for her to fall into a rhythm of deep breaths. “Use your imagination to follow the air; in... out.” Repeating the in and out in time with her breath, he timed the command to slow her breathing, till she was in the trance state he was looking for. Slowly he continued. “Feel it move around your lungs, watch it leave your nose... Breath it back in... Feel the breath inside you, exhale. Feel the air in front of you move as you breath disturbs it...” Over the course of an hour he had lead her through the ancient breathing exercise till her mind’s eye followed the circulation of the air of the whole room.  He was leading her through another cycle when he felt a strong gust baffle the outside of the building. Scootaloo’s eyes shot open in surprise; she gasped as her whole body twitched and convulsed as it was taken by a powerful itch that she could not reach. “What was that!” she yelled. The smithy burst out laughing. He had seen yearlings react to gusts like that before, but never a near grown filly. “That’s not funny, that... tickled” she said a bit indignant. Swage caught his breath and nodded. “I know it did!” “You mean you.. all Pegasi can feel that, all the time?” “Well, yea. It’s harder through these thick walls, though. Sorta why I got this place.” “How come nopony ever told me?” Her ears laid back as the wind picked up for a moment. She could still feel it. Not like the first time, but still somehow, she knew it was there. “Who would have? And besides would it ever occur to you to tell somepony about the sense of smell?” Swage said thoughtfully as he again took to tending his instruments. “Now, do it again, focus on the wind.” The machine before him rotated as the filly closed her eyes. The reading further reinforced the theory he had put together. Two days ago he would have been dumbfounded with this puzzle, but thanks to Twilight it was plain as day. “Ok, that’s fine, you can relax,” he said pulling his notes together. “Pegasi fly by wing and magic. It’s that same magic that lets us stand on clouds.” Scootaloo nodded as he spoke. She did know that much. Simple observation told you Pegasus wings weren’t big enough to allow flight, they worked in tandem with the magic of the Pegasus. Swage continued, “You have very weak Pegasus magic and your wings are not big enough to compensate. Unfortunately, at your age I don’t think they will ever be big enough to make up for the difference.” “So I’ll never fly?” she whimpered. His heart ached for the little filly. He found a lump in his throat as he spoke. He was ruffling the filly’s mane as the words left his mouth, “I can get you flying, I promise.” He had no idea where the words had come from. His mouth felt alien as they were spoken, but he had said them nonetheless.