//------------------------------// // The Trails We Follow // Story: Trails and Trials // by Mazzyrazzy //------------------------------// If the three months since Twilight had known Ditzy taught her anything, it was to be patient. While a joy to be around, certain habitus behaviors still eluded the mailmare’s grasp of comprehension. In some ways, Twilight found the experience steadily rewarding; never before had she met another mare whose thirst for knowledge—to better herself—rivaled her own. Twilight and Ditzy may have been on different tiers when it came to understanding, but they were partners in where it mattered most: passion.         And so Twilight had begun to instruct her friend on how to read and write, as the mare wished. It was no simple task. Twilight soon realized she would have to go all the way back to the basics, starting out with how individual letters could have multiple sounds. Ditzy was quite proficient with this; reading children’s picture books had given her a firm, if not rudimentary, understanding of the sub-subject.         After the first lesson, days melted by where Ditzy would come over every day after work to study with Twilight. On their breaks, they would take walks around Ponyville. Twilight especially enjoyed those moments—Ditzy’s true nature blossomed when out in the open, like in the park. The mailmare always held to an air of blissful unawareness that Twilight began to realize was unvaryingly contagious. The unicorn would cherish those memories as long as she lived.         Before long the two became inseparable, spending almost all their free time together. Ditzy made it a second hobby to help Twilight around the library, where she became even better friends with Spike. Twilight’s number one assistant even took a few hours to teach Ditzy the ins and outs of the shelving and alphanumeric system that kept the books in order. Within a few tries, Ditzy was able to masterfully reshelf books without knocking any other shelves over.   Holding true to their words, the remaining elements of harmony eagerly accepted Ditzy into the fold, however none was more excited than Pinkie Pie, save Twilight. The pink pony threw Ditzy a friendship party, and with a unanimous decision was proclaimed the best party ever. All was eclipsed when Sparkler and Dinky returned to Ponyville. That day, Ditzy was so anxious that she spent the night pacing around Twilight’s living room while the unicorn urged her to get some sleep. Forever cruel, the slow tick of the clock on the wall provided too much of a distraction. When the dawn was finally ushered in, Ditzy was the first pony at the train station; Twilight elected to stay behind. Although she wasn’t present, she could imagine the whole thing: Ditzy would’ve been rocking back and forth on her hooves anxiously as the train came to a complete stop. Her eyes would grow wide as the passenger door opened, and she would have sprinted once she caught even the slightest glance of her daughters. Then she probably tripped. Probably. Twilight let out a dreamy sigh as she pictured the entire event unfolding. Of course Ditzy had told her all about it when the lot of them came over later that night. It was the first time Twilight ever met Dinky or Sparkler officially; of course there had been times where she would spot them around Ponyville, but gave them no more attention than the unnoticed beating of her own heart. Quite an impression was made; Twilight liked both Sparkler and Dinky for a variety of reasons. Little Dinky was smart for her age, enthusiastically showing Twilight the small feats she could perform with magic. Sparkler produced a weathered feather—one that obviously was used to practice for some time—and Dinky would push it across the floor, chasing after it. Twilight watched with great amusement as Dinky tumbled over herself all around the room, like a cat chasing a catnip-filled toy. While Ditzy was playing with her younger daughter, Sparkler joined Twilight on the couch and gave a proper introduction. It was hard to believe that Sparkler was still just a teenager by how mature she acted; if Twilight didn’t know better, she would have assumed the pink unicorn was her age. Over a small dinner, both Dinky and Sparkler took turns regaling the details of their adventure over the summer. Every now and again, Twilight would slyly peak over to Ditzy and see her wearing the goofiest, proudest smile. In the days that followed, Twilight saw much less of Ditzy. When the busy mailmare wasn’t working, she was spending time with her children. She was surprised how much she missed Ditzy during that period; the library rang with an unusual quietness that not even Spike’s grumbling could offset. It was a constant reminder of how much Twilight’s life had changed, and how much she missed the mailmare. Then, to her enthusiastic astonishment, Ditzy and her daughters surprised Twilight at her home in the middle of the week. “Ditzy!” Twilight had shouted, with a little more pep than she meant. “I thought you had to go to work today?” To this, Ditzy smiled—one that Twilight always admired for its honesty. “Yah, I had work.” Ditzy giggled, and gestured with her eyes outside the door. Twilight followed her gaze and was double-surprised to find the rest of her friends behind the pegasus, each with a different accessory that collectively shouted ‘let’s go have a picnic!’ And that’s what they did. Ditzy, Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Sparkler, Spike, and Dinky all went to the park for a picnic to welcome in autumn. If such a thing as a perfect day existed, it would’ve been that day. Surrounded by her friends, new and old, Twilight couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment; were she the same pony she had been in Canterlot, she wouldn’t have been encircled by eight amazing ponies (plus a number one assistant). It’s one of the bonds her and Ditzy shared—the journey from nothing to friendship. After that day, visits became more frequent. Not just Ditzy, but Sparkler and Dinky took an interest in the magical mare as well. They would often accompany their mother whenever she went over to the library, and it eventually got to the point where it became a second home. On the days Ditzy had to work late, Sparkler would pick up Dinky from school and they’d both go right over to Twilight’s, helping her and Spike in whatever ways they could. As the time of day Dinky and Sparkler returned to the library turned almost into a daily ritual, Twilight finally unveiled a surprise that she had been working on for the whole previous week: a guest room. Twilight and Spike worked tirelessly to turn their basement from disheveled laboratory filled with outdated science equipment and dusty tomes into a working, contemporary bedroom. Ditzy, Dinky, and Sparkler were now free to spend the night whenever it was more convenient for them. As is the psychological process of life, a routine was quickly established. On most days, Ditzy and her daughters would wake up in their own house in the early morn—Ditzy preparing to go to work, while Sparkler was readying Dinky for school. Once the mailmare departed, after eating a healthy breakfast, Sparkler would walk her little sister to Cheerilee’s school, and then do whatever random activity she wanted for that day. It typically involved hanging out with her friends Berry Punch and Colgate. After Dinky was finished for the day, her big sister was always there—standing in the exact same spot outside the school yard—smiling and waiting for Dinky to tell her about her day. As they talked, they’d head over to Twilights’ and help out when and where they could, often assisting Spike with his assistant duties. Ditzy would finally get off work about five hours past high noon and fly directly to the library, where she’d get to spend time with her family (which Ditzy now included Twilight and Spike).  On normal days, they’d eat a simple dinner together, which became more elaborate as Spike and Sparkler combined their culinary minds. Ditzy, Dinky, and Sparkler would go home soon after and the process would repeat again. Alternatively, on days that Ditzy had to work late, Sparkler and Dinky would spend the night at Twilight’s and the process would start from there. This occurrence only happened once or twice a week, but Twilight always waited for Ditzy to get home before she went to bed herself. On some nights, this was no small task; the mailmare occasionally had intercity deliveries where she wouldn’t return to Ponyville until two hours after midnight. Twilight was always up though, and always eager to welcome Ditzy home. Today was no different. Twilight casually peered up from her book to the clock. It read two hours past noon, which meant Dinky would be getting off school soon. A frown creased her forehead when she noticed books scattered in piles across the floor. She berated herself for being so unaware of her surroundings while she studied. “Spike!” she called, carefully stepping over a lesser stack of literature. Spike peaked his head over the second floor banister. “Yah?” he answered. “Why are there more books on the ground than on shelves?” Spike blinked sheepishly. “Oh, sorry about that... Sparkler promised she would help me organize ‘em when she gets here today.” “Fine,” Twilight sighed. She’d have to wait until her precious library was pieced back together like a puzzle. It wasn’t even the mess that discomforted her, it was the knowledge she wouldn’t be able to find a particular book in a timely fashion. What if the Princess suddenly sent forth a letter demanding familiarity with northern Griffin societies, or how to properly construct a shed? Surely Equestria would fall into ruin if Twilight failed to locate the proper reading materials. She passive-aggressively huffed at a layer of dust that had begun accumulating on one of the mounds. The vexatious dust specks glittered prettily once they crossed the beams of sunlight coming in through the window, before vanishing on cue; out of sight, out of existence. Progressively, Twilight began to delve into what deep meaning she could find from this—something about how life is but a brief speck, to be shown down upon in utter brilliance, and flippantly snuffed out, the light itself uncaring of which speck it showed favor to. She wrinkled her nose. Jeez, I’m bored. A half-yawn, half-sigh escaped her chest as she walked towards the kitchen. She used her horn to creak open a few of the more reliable cabinets. If she pressed herself, she would be able to concoct a decent meal for tonight. One uncaring sniff later, and she leaned out the kitchen towards the stairwell. “Spike, what are we making for dinner tonight?” “We?”  Came the exaggerated, even horrified reply. “Twilight, I thought  I wouldn’t have to remind you what happened last time you tried to make something.” Twilight made a face, even though Spike wasn’t in view. “Oh hush, you know what I meant.” “So you meant what am I going to cook for dinner?” The notion was almost cocky, daring Twilight to challenge it. A beat. Twilight rolled her eyes, but gave it to him. “Yes Spike. I was only asking because I noticed we don’t exactly have that many groceries to work with.” “There’s that ‘we’ again.” Spike peaked down from upstairs, eyebrows raised, amused. Twilight’s face contorted into a menacing growl. “It’s a stipulative phrase!” “Okay, okay, no need to get your horn in a slump.” Spike clunked down the stairs. “And I don’t know what we’ll have. Sparkler and I always think of something though.” On cue, a gentle three knocks tapped on the front door. Twilight breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge the floor would be uncluttered very soon. “Come in you two, you know it’s open.” The door was pushed open with an expected creak as a pink unicorn pony with a short-cut purple mane walked in, snickering to herself. On her back, facing the opposite direction, sat a tiny bluish-grey unicorn filly who was attentively trying to catch her sister’s tail. Sparkler kept flicking it away teasingly, only to brush it across the little one’s nose. A round of giggles was shared between the two fillies as Dinky caught hold of her objective. “Hey Twilight, Spike,” Sparkler greeted warmly, closing the door behind her. “Hi Miss Twilight, hi Spike!” Dinky accompanied hurriedly, as if caught by surprise. She hopped off down her sister and trotted over to give Twilight a hug. The unicorn craned her neck down and nuzzled the little filly. “Good afternoon, you two. How was the walk over?” Twilight ask casually. “We saw a cloud!” Dinky shouted, far too enthusiastic for such an ordinary observation. Twilight and Spike shared a look. “…And what was so cool about the cloud?” Sparkler led. “Oh, oh! It was—umm... oh! It was shaped like a muffin!” Sparkler chuckled and refocused on Twilight. “Mom would be pleased.”   Twilight nodded. “Speaking of her, do you know when she’s getting off work? If you two need to spend the night here, I’ll need to clean the room.” “I think mommy’s working late today,” Dinky answered. Sparkler nodded in agreement with her sister. “She is. She has to make a delivery to Trottingham soon.” Twilight wanted to cringe. That meant another late night for her. She held face though, and smiled. “Alright, well dinner tonight is up in the air, but we’ll figure that out a bit later. In the meantime, Sparkler can you help Spike fix this yard-sale-that-used-to-be-a-library? It’d be nice to be able to walk through here without tripping.” Sparkler chuckled apologetically. “Uh… sorry about the mess, I should’ve known that reorganizing a part of the library meant the books would have to go somewhere. We’ll get that fixed right away, right Spike?” “Sure thing!” Spike agreed. The two walked off to the library side of the room, leaving Twilight and Dinky in the living area. “What can I do, Ms. Twilight?” Dinky asked, enthused and hopping. Twilight followed her up and down motion with her eyes. “You can come help me get your guys’ room ready. Come on,” Twilight beckoned. With her eyes smiling as much as her mouth, the little filly eagerly followed her down into the basement (which, Twilight realized, would sound very weird out of context). With a nudge of magic, Twilight opened the guestroom’s door. She always had to admire her own handy work; not to brag, but to congratulate herself on completing a task that was more brawn than brain—renovating. Both she and Spike were very proud of their work, considering the size of the room. Since it had been a research lab entertaining no greater host than the spiders that spun their sinuous webs, much of the space was open floor. It still provided the rudimentary necessities: two beds—one double bed for Dinky and Sparkler and a single for Ditzy—were spaced evenly on the back wall, separated by a large night stand. Two desks were also in the room that were used when Twilight was teaching Ditzy how to read and write, and when Dinky did her homework. The final accent to the room was a simple—and completely inane—closet that remained empty. Dinky rushed past Twilight to her big bed, which was still unmade from the previous time the two sisters spent the night. Hopping up was a bit of a hassle for the tiny filly; the bed was raised to a point where she had to hop up like a cat. As she displaced more body weight, the springs on the bed rocked her up and down. She giggled in a way that reminded Twilight how similar she was to her mother. The elder unicorn was amused. “So are you going to help me make the bed, or are you going to keep bouncing until I get you a trampoline?” “Bouncing sounds fun,” Dinky replied with fake haughtiness. She stopped suddenly and eyed the empty space in the room. “Actually, a trampoline just might fit in here.” A twinkle glinted in her eye as she turned back to Twilight. The purple mare couldn’t help but chuckle at the silliness of it all. “Or I could just use a magic spell to turn every surface into a trampoline. Then you could just bounce where ever.” “Gives a whole new meaning to bouncing off walls,” Dinky said and grinned, not missing a beat. Quick-witted, this one. “We’ll see if a trampoline room fits into the future design plans of the library,” Twilight giggled sarcastically.  “Until then…” In one swift motion, Twilight scooped up a rather-surprised Dinky with her magic and levitated her slightly above the bed.  The little unicorn wriggled and twisted around, flailing her limbs in an attempt to fight away the magic. Her limbs went limp as she finally gave in. Once she stopped struggling, Twilight eased Dinky to the opposite side of the bed. They both giggled as Dinky was released, landing on the bed with another solid bounce. Together they made the bed, Dinky using her teeth and hooves to pull the sheets, and Twilight using her magic. It went a lot slower than it would’ve been if it had been just Twilight, but she was patient. The finished product was nothing suited for a princess, but perfect all the same. Twilight venerated their handiwork. “Soon, you’ll be able to do it with magic too.” Dinky lit up. “You really think so?” “You still doing those practices I showed you?” “Mhmm!” Dinky nodded enthusiastically. “Mommy says I’m getting good.” Twilight rustled her mane. “Mommy is right.” “You wanna see, you wanna see?” Dinky asked. Twilight knew it didn’t matter what she said; Dinky was going to show her. Twilight didn’t mind. She somewhat felt responsible for Dinky’s rising abilities, like a teacher would. Dinky squeaked excitedly and ran over to her desk, where the simple magical exercise was already set up. Twilight decided that it’d be best for Dinky to start off on the same exercise Princess Celestia had started her on: nothing fancy, it was a ramp with a very shallow slope. A round object such as a marble would be placed at the top, and the objective would be to see how long you could keep it from reaching the base. In Twilight’s case, the balls would get progressively heavier, and the ramp steeper. The goal to aim for was to build magical strength, much like working out. Dinky set two marbles at the top. Twilight raised her eyebrows as Dinky looked back at her with a smug grin. “Two, Dinky? Sure you can handle?” Twilight asked. “Guess we’ll find out. What’s life without taking risks?” Look out, we got a bad filly over here. Twilight stifled a giggle. “Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Complete concentration melted onto the young filly’s face. Once she resembled the emotionality of a brick wall, she nudged the two spheres over the tipping point. Instantly Dinky’s face contorted in strain as she forced the magic out of her horn. A sparkling grey aura penetrated the marbles at about 75 percent the way up. They shimmered and wobbled unsteadily, but they sank no further. Twilight widened her eyes, watching with new focus. She hadn’t actually expected the filly to be able to hold two marbles; such a feat would be comparable to Twilight lifting two boulders, which Twilight could do, but the strain would be immense. It wasn’t the weight that dazzled Twilight; it was the dispersion of magic. To be able to mentally focus magic on two objects at once isn’t something Twilight had planned on teaching her for at least a few days. Still, the tension soon became apparent as the marbles inevitably began their descent, much to Dinky’s fret. Finally they came to a rest at the bottom after a minute struggle. Twilight's smile only widened. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you say you’ve been practicing.” Dinky was panting and a bead of sweat ran down her temple, but she managed to give a small smile. “R-really? I did good? I just want to be as good as you.” “You’re on your way,” Twilight promised. Dinky smiled bright as she set the marbles back up for anther go, but a loud thumping interrupted her thought. Twilight glanced curiously upstairs, where she heard the noise coming from. “Hang on Dinky, I’m going to go see what that is. You can keep practicing.” “Alright Ms. Twilight,” Dinky acknowledged. Twilight made her way up the stairwell as the thumping increased to a sporadic pounding. Twilight quickened her pace at the sense of urgency. As she entered the house proper, she recognized it as the front door that was being banged on. Spike was already moving to answer it. The door flew open, and in stumbled Pinkie Pie, who did a face plant. Twilight, Sparkler, and Spike shared weird stares. Twilight approached the pink pony. “Pinkie, what are you—“ “Twilight!” Pinkie shouted, bolting upright. “It happened again!” Twilight let that hang unanswered in the air a moment before inability to remember frustrated her. “What happened, Pinkie? Why are you shouting?” Suddenly Pinkie started vibrating violently up and down. She tried to talk during it. “See – e – e – ee?” The spasm halted, and then Pinkie forced herself to take a breath. “It’s my Pinkie Sense, Twilight! Don’t you remember what it means when my whole body shakes?” Spike gasped and started shaking, mortally fearful of the Pinkie Sense. “L-last time that happened, we almost got chomped by a hydra!” “What!?” Sparkler gasped. “But it was me last time, remember?” Twilight recalled. “Last time it was a ‘doozy’, and the doozy turned out to be me accepting Pinkie’s unexplainable ability.” “Yah, but what is it this time?” Spike asked, growing apprehensive. Twilight turned to Pinkie, all business. “Pinkie Pie, the last time this happened you had some idea of the general whereabouts that the doozy would occur. Is there anything you can tell me about this one?” “Umm…” Pinkie squeezed her head, and squinted in concentration. “Y…yes I think so…” her eyes squinted even tighter. “Something to do with…weather! And… Tournant Hill.” Pinkie sagged to the ground, letting all the focus melt. The place Tournant Hill was on the precipice of Twilight’s memory, but she couldn’t exactly remember where it was. One problem at a time… Twilight thought. “Spike, bring me that book Unique and Unusual Weather, please.” “Already on it!” Spike said, halfway up one of the ladders. After a few deft claw flicks, he spotted the blue-binded book and carried it over to Twilight desk. Without exchanging words, Twilight opened the book and began reviewing the index. “What are you looking for?” “Any weather that could be considered a ‘doozy’,” Twilight stated flatly. “But I don’t get it…” Spike paced. “It’s a beautiful day out, and the forecast is clear! How can there be a weather-related doozy today?” Twilight sighed with impatience. “I don’t know Spike, but I’m not taking any chances, now let’s see here…” Twilight began scrolling through the book, looking for any type of peculiar weather that has been known to be unpredictable in forecasts. Each one seemed unlikely to be anywhere near Ponyville, due to the town’s comparatively low altitude equated to sea level. As she searched, Sparkler passed behind her and went deeper into the library. Twilight didn’t pay attention to it, as she was too deep in thought. “This doesn’t make sense; there’s nothing here that could be that damaging…” Twilight sighed with growing hopelessness. “Pinkie, are you sure there’s nothing else you can tell us?” Pinkie shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry Twilight, you know that’s not how it works.” “Twilight?” A little voice called. All eyes shifted towards the basement stairs as Dinky entered the room. “Something’s wrong.” Twilight approached her, a bit shocked at the filly’s intuition. “What do you mean, sweetie?” Dinky tapped her horn. “My magic’s all dried up.” Her eyes wavered sadly, threatening to give into tears any moment. The confusion deepened. “I don’t understand, Dinky. What happened?” She crouched down and stroked Dinky’s mane to calm her down. “I-I was practicing like you said, but then it got really hard to do magic and then… I just wasn’t able to do it anymore.” Dinky’s eyes met Twilight’s. “D-does this mean I broke it?” Twilight was already too far gone, staring past reality as theories and possibilities melted over her eyes. No, it can’t be… she thought with dread. To prove what she already knew was the logical answer, she turned back around to the desk and attempted to pick up the weather book with magic. A dull, wavering purple aura lifted the book up slowly, but the strain that accompanied such an insignificant task was greater than it should’ve been. She raced back over to the book as she set it back down, flipping through the pages in a whirlwind. With finality, she slapped a hoof down on the correct page, under ‘M’. “Magical storms,” Twilight whispered. She began to read aloud as Spike walked closer. “Known to be sudden and highly unpredictable. These very rare, though dangerous, storms have all the looks and dangers of a normal storm, but with the added accompaniment of raw magic. Because of this, these types of storms have been known to appear suddenly, and last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. Although scientists still haven’t created a current formation theory, it is commonly accepted that the coming of a magic storm will result in the weakening of all magic-users in the area, eventually becoming near-impossible at the epicenter.” Twilight pointed to the entry. “That’s what we’re dealing with here: a magic storm.” “I’ve never heard of a magic storm before,” Spike said worriedly. “Yes you have—the Zap Apples are a result of a magical storm, though this book makes most of them sound harmful. “ “Oh my goodness…” A voice called from the other side of the library. All eyes shifted to Sparkler, who was staring at a scroll. “Twilight come here.” Twilight rushed over to her and studied what Sparkler presented: a map of the region. A pink hoof was overlaying a certain section of the map. “Tournant Hill…” Sparkler whispered so only Twilight could hear her. Fear marred her sweet voice. “It’s on the path to Trottingham.” Ditzy Doo! Time stopped as indescribable fear clutched her heart. Her mind flashed to all the horrific events that could go wrong, and how she’d never forgive herself if something happened to Ditzy, especially since she now knew the problem. She was roused from her daze when she felt her shoulder get nudged. “What are we going to do?” Sparkler asked in a hushed tone. Twilight’s eyes darted from side to side as she formulated a plan.  She looked right in Sparkler’s eyes. “Stay here and watch your sister.” Twilight rushed back where Spike and Pinkie were waiting, and who both had worried expressions once they caught sight of Twilight’s alarm. “Pinkie, Spike, go round up whatever ponies you can and go to Tournant Hill, on the path to Trottingham. You have to do this, okay?” Spike approached her. “But Twilight, what are you going to do?” Twilight opened her front door with magic, which she noticed the strain was getting worse. “I’m going to the post office to see if it’s not too late to catch Ditzy before she leaves.” With no time to lose, Twilight didn’t wait for a response or acknowledgement; she darted out the door and was soon trotting down the street full gallop, passing surprised ponies on the way. The sun was waning in the sky; still a few hours until dark. A silver lining because visibility was essential should something go wrong. Twilight pushed the grim thought from her head and focused on her hooves as the clacked against the cobblestone road. With a time that would make Rainbow Dash proud, Twilight burst through the doors of the Ponyville post office. The front desk pony jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Can I help you miss?” she asked, holding a hoof to her chest. Twilight rushed over to the desk. “The delivery to Trottingham—has that left yet?” The mare was disconcerted by Twilight’s abruptness.  “Er… I’m not sure Miss. Let me get my superior…” The mare left her desk and retreated to the hallway behind. Twilight tapped her hoof impatiently while glancing around to see if she could catch a glimpse of Ditzy. Before long, a brown stallion came to the front desk. Twilight vaguely remembered meeting him months before. “Twilight?” The stallion asked. “Is something the matter?” “I’m not sure yet,” Twilight admitted. “Can you tell me if the delivery to Trottingham left?” Mr. Forthright eyed her somewhat warily. “Yes it has… left just a few minutes ago.” The brown stallion noted Twilight’s eyes go blank and foggy. “Why? Did you have something you wanted to send? If so, the next deliver would be—“ “Ditzy’s in trouble!” Twilight gasped out. “W…what?” Mr. Forthright was taken aback. “There’s a storm coming, and she’s heading straight into the eye without even knowing!” “Impossible, I checked the forecast myself!” The stallion assured. “There isn’t a storm scheduled for at least a few days.” Twilight groaned. “No, it’s a magic storm! They’re very dangerous, and…” Twilight paused, and flinched. “What am I doing talking about it?” Before the conversation could go any further, Twilight bolted from the desk and out the door, heading west towards the falling sun. If Ditzy just left a few minutes ago, and if Twilight ran fast enough, surely she would be able to catch the pegasus who was burdened with so many packages? A cold sweat began to lather her coat despite the warm breeze. Her sides were starting to pinch and her lungs screamed for a break, but Twilight wouldn’t stop running. Even as she exited the Ponyville borders, her relentless pace didn’t cease. She knew it was a good mile or two before Tournant Hill, and she hoped to catch Ditzy by then. With her eyes on the skies of the horizon, she squinted to try and make out any black shapes against the falling sun.  The light itself proved to be both a virtue and a shackle—the very source of guidance and sight was also blinding her from scouring far into the distance. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, but she found what was most painful was the back of her throat, which burned as if she had swallowed a mound of fire ants. All her psychological and physical systems were begging her to stop. Twilight knew she could only persevere for a few minutes longer until her body just shut down and would refuse to do what she commanded. And then, brief hope: a black dot. On the horizon, in front of the setting sun, was a black dot. As Twilight picked up the pace even more, the dot began to get bigger until she could distinctly make out a shape of a pony silhouette and a big object trailing. “Ditzy!” Twilight croaked, but it was barely above a whisper. Her throat was nearly raw. Twilight knew she wouldn’t be able to speak loudly unless she stopped. In one quick motion, she locked her legs and came to a screeching stop that billowed out dirt from the path beneath her. She worked up saliva in her mouth then swallowed it to lubricate her throat. It did nothing to alleviate the pain, but she could feel her vocal chords vibrate functionally. “Ditzy!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. It came out as a half-cry, half-screech that reverberated off the hills, trees, and mountainside around her. The echo carried on far past Twilight had intended, and the black dot in the sky halted. Though her lungs were pleading for deep lungfuls of air, Twilight caught her breath. She was forced to brush a strand of her frazzled mane out of her eyes. Then, the dot started getting bigger. “Twilight?” She heard a voice call out. Relief spread over every inch of her, fading away all pain and complaint. Twilight was so thankful she thought she could cry. She watched the black dot get bigger until eventually she could vaguely make out Ditzy’s grey coat and fluttering wings. They were only about 50 meters away when a sudden pain in Twilight's horn forced her to her knees.   Above both their heads, a sudden explosive bang rumbled the sky like an earthquake. The sound was so jarring that it made Twilight’s teeth chatter and ears feel like they were about to bleed. They both looked up at that same time as a black vortex filled the sky; a swirling cyclone of black clouds and electrified by dark purple lightning. Twilight looked up to Ditzy, who managed to look back for only a moment before she was engulfed. “Twili-!” Ditzy shrieked in a panic before the clouds surrounded her and muffled all sound. The clouds had now expanded to both horizons, covering the land in complete darkness. The only light came from the savage snaps of the purple bolts of lightning, arcing like veins throughout the ominous cloud. Twilight frantically tried to scan the clouds for Ditzy, thinking to herself she’d give anything to be a pegasus right now. She focused on a section of cloud that she thought Ditzy was in, and tried to use magic to force it to disperse. She was met with mind-numbing agony as the magic prodded her own brain like a crown of internal thorns. She had never felt so helpless in all her life. Finally, the unimaginable happened. She witnessed a bolt of lightning arc across a cloud, revealing Ditzy’s silhouette from beyond. Twilight was only dreamily aware that she was screaming for Ditzy and crying as she saw the bolt of lightning pierce her friend. The seconds that followed were nothing reality could rationalize. Twilight felt her hooves running, but she was so disoriented that she was scarcely mindful of her surroundings. All she could do was sprint towards Ditzy as she fell from the clouds. And then, all went black. ~*~*~ Today was looking up. Ditzy placed her mailbag down on the iron hook; it was empty after a long—though rewarding—day of being the pride of the Ponyville postal service. Her deliveries so far had been very smooth, just an average day on all fronts. She even got to walk past the schoolyard while her daughter was out playing during recess, though she was too far away for Dinky to see her. Still, Dinky looked so happy playing with all her friends, and Ditzy could not be more proud. On that high note, the rest of the day passed rather quickly. Although they were both working, Ditzy saw no sign of her co-worker, Destiny. It had been a bit odd late; the pink pegasus hadn’t made any form of contact with her for at least a week. Ditzy had to wonder if she had finally gotten bored of the grey mailmare. She shrugged her shoulders and sauntered on. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or pony, Ditzy noted. Ditzy sat down at her desk, letting her weight melt into the chair. It squeaked and whined like it always did, but Ditzy knew she had to go hard on it to make it stronger. After all, muscles and wooden chairs were basically the same thing. With pencil-in-mouth, Ditzy scribbled away at her paperwork, which she now was able to write more proficiently ever since Twilight introduced grammar into her life.  She became so efficient, in fact, that Mr. Forthright had given her a decent raise two weeks prior. Of course, she didn’t do it for the money—all the reward she needed was the knowledge that she was becoming a better pony, inside and out. She glanced at the clock. It was getting close to four hours past noon, which was when she needed to start her delivery to Trottingham. According to her co-workers, Ditzy had ‘pulled the short straw’ on this particular delivery because there was a large number of packages. The grey mailmare didn’t even try to explain that she volunteered for the assignment. Ditzy spat the pencil out of her mouth, and it clacked against her wooden desk until it came to a halt. Using her teeth, she gingerly lifted her small stack of paperwork and carried it over towards Mr. Forthright’s desk, where there was a small input paperwork holder on the front. Mr. Forthright took notice of Ditzy’s entrance, and removed his reading glances that he only recently began wearing. “All done, Derpy?” He asked nonchalantly. Ditzy nodded. “Mhmm! Gettin’ ready to pack up the cargo. I have the Trottingham delivery job tonight. “ “Ah. Well it should be an easy day then,” Mr. Forthright acknowledged.  “Skies are clear from here to Trottingham.” A tingle of excitement jazzed through Ditzy’s body. Clear skies meant there was nothing to mask the beautiful night. By the time she reached the other town, nightfall would have descended over Equestria, and the stars would begin their gradual dance across the firmament. “Sounds great!” Ditzy exclaimed. Mr. Forthright nodded and began his own paperwork again, cueing Ditzy to leave. It took her a few seconds, but then with an audible ‘oh!’, left the room. She made her way to the back of the building, where larger parcels were brought in by carts or chariots into the offloading dock. There she saw the clunky metal container that was to be her cargo for the next few hours. It was a few pony-lengths long, and about two tall, and made of reinforced steel, as it was lighter than iron. It rested on a wooden and leather chariot that she would be harnessed into. Although Ditzy was strong, she wouldn’t be able to carry the contents on her own. No, the metal container was charmed to be vertically weightless. Getting it in the air was no problem; with proper practice, nearly any pegasi could do it. The tough part was hauling it once it was in the air. She didn’t mind it much, however, because she had already built up the muscles necessary for this flight from years of doing the same thing. Still, it halted her flight speed to nearly a quarter of how fast she could go. She trotted to the container’s back, which was a linked, flexible steel door that rolled up to provide access. It was already open, and she saw there were already many sizeable packages inside. One such cargo, she noted, she could fit inside comfortably and have room to spare. The mailmare froze a moment to consider the outlandish possibility that there was indeed a pony in there, and was using the mail system as a source of cheap travel. She even knocked on it once, to see if she would get a knock back. There wasn’t, so she thereby concluded the box was ponyless… or the pony inside was rude. A few moments were spent taking inventory, making sure she had all the packages she needed.  Once she was satisfied, she pulled down the metal door, which screeched as it slid down the tracks. She then closed the handle, firmly locking it in place. She tested out the door by pulling up—it didn’t budge. She opened the cargo bay door which led to a small runway, where she’d be able to take off. The sun was still in the sky, though clearly falling on west side of the sky. Another two hours or so and it’d be sunset. Taking a deep breath, Ditzy stretched all four of her legs, knowing that she wouldn’t get a chance to rest or relax once she was in the air. She couldn’t think of anything worse than cramping midflight. It took only a few moments to get secured in the harness. The padded-leather straps folded across Ditzy’s chest, shoulders, and withers, carefully gliding around Ditzy’s wings and providing enough room to maneuver. The wooden wheels squeaked in protest as she walked onto the tarmac. The first three steps were always the hardest; she had to pull the full weight of the cart from a dead stop with no aid from momentum. Once the thing got rolling though, it wasn’t stopping. Down the runway Ditzy trotted, steadily accelerating.  Her wings unfurled and began flapping leisurely, testing out the currents of air. As her trot turned into a sprint, she kicked off as hard as she could with her hind legs just as the runway ended. Once again, the first few flaps getting off the ground were always the hardest, but once Ditzy stabilized herself, it was as easy as pulling a giant metal container that weighed roughly half a ton (which in this circumstance was remarkably simple). The ascent was always slow; instead of straining herself, Ditzy patiently waited for the natural air currents to push her upwards. That way, she could focus on remaining level and avoid turbulence, which could still unnerve even the most veteran fliers. She rose effortlessly with the warm air current, happy with the knowledge that she’d have to make minimal maneuvering on the way to Trottingham, which lied near-perfect to the west. Her only complaint was the sun itself—its glaring blaze often blinded her. It didn’t worry her too much though; she could just close her eyes and feel the flow of air  around her, like rivers and tributaries in space. To pass the time, Ditzy did some basic math in her head. The flight there would take about two to three hours with the extra weight on her back. Once she was there, she’d load more stuff destined for Ponyville, so that’d be another three at least accounting for the new weight and fatigue. So if all went well, Ditzy would be able to get back to the library by— “Ditzy!” an echo interrupted her thoughts. It was so quiet, that she first thought she just imagined somepony calling her name. When she thought about it though, she became more certain that it was an actual voice. Turning around was a pain; the carrier didn’t exactly turn on a bit. No—to take into account the transitioning air currents and stability, a long arcing turn was obligatory. Once she made it though, Ditzy was able to confirm that the voice had indeed come from a pony far below. Ditzy’s heart smiled when she saw a familiar purple coat. It was replaced by confusion. What was Twilight doing all the way out here, and why was she beckoning her? Although she knew it was going to be a huge pain to land and then take off again, it was obviously important enough if Twilight was out here. On that thought, she began a slow descent, flying towards her friend. “Twilight?” She yelled. The wind carried her voice to the desired target range. She was getting closer; Ditzy realized that she was still too high in the sky to safely land next to Twilight, at least right now. She’d have to pass her and loop around again. Perhaps if the wind speed was in her favor— BOOM! Ditzy yelped out in panic as a loud explosion above her made her cover her ears. It threw her center off-balance, and the cart began to sway dangerously. Whatever happened above her had displaced a monumental amount of air, leaving her helpless to control her flight. Shaking, she looked up just as the entire sky began to darken. Her insides churned in fright, and her limbs locked in place. She glanced up in complete horror and witnessed the scariest moment of her life that was sure to haunt her in nightmares: a colossal vortex that looked ready to swallow her up, spitting out lightning like poison from a snake. It was unreal; there was no way this could actually be happening. She was asleep, in some nightmare that felt too tangible. Suddenly, the black cloud expanded, and it was coming right for her. Ditzy frantically looked back to the ground and met Twilight’s eyes one last time.  “Twilight!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, as the swirling clouds of fear and despair overwhelmed her.  Immediately, she was buffeted by gale-force winds that treated her like a ragdoll. She was flapping as fast and as hard as she ever could, but it had little effect. Ditzy didn’t even know how high she was in the sky; she could crash into the ground at any moment without warning. Desperate, she looked from side to side but could only see darkness, the kind you see when you close your eyes. The only way Ditzy knew she wasn’t, in fact, closing her eyes was the arcing purple strands of lightning that shattered the sky like a whip crack. Without any bearings, she was unable to even decide which way was up or down, let alone any of the compass directions. And then, a loud crack pierced all other sound, and agony became her reality. For a millisecond she was cognizant of a severe scorching sensation on her right wing, but then nothing. All thought, pain, relief, happiness, and memory released itself until a shell of empty consciousness remained, and Ditzy’s vision flickered to blackness. ~*~*~ Black. Fuzzy brown. Black again. Eyelids fluttered; not sure if alive or dead. No movement, everything quiet, devoid of senses. Hopelessness, pity, sorrow, abandonment. Alone in the dark. School years as a filly; naïve and nervous; bumbling; sightless. Why didn’t anypony want to be her friend? That lunch table had plenty of room on it, so why couldn’t she sit there? Years later, pushed down in the mud, what do you mean something’s wrong with my eyes? Mommy said there’s nothing wrong with me. She said I’m special. The rain was so cold, crying seemed befitting. Unyielding happiness, flourish freely. It’s a girl, and a unicorn to boot. Finally something pure, untainted, and simple: something to shatter the complexity of life. She was so beautiful—gave the biggest smile as soon as she held her in her arms. Everything would become second to this purpose, the only purpose. If only she could hold on tight and never let go… Crowded marketplace, dismal and bleak. Crumbled and defeated she laid, unable to rouse. Then, the voice of an angel. You look like you could use some help. Twilight! Ditzy’s eyes flickered open. She made no attempt to move, but she was aware that she was lying on something solid. Irritation consumed her lungs as pained gasps of air pulled in dirt off the ground. She sputtered loudly, sending waves of pain down her body. The dirt on the ground was cold and uncaring, nearly as much as the sky. Her eyes might have been open, but sight still eluded perception.  The only sensation was numbness; unhelpful in assessing damage. As her mind shifted from off to minimal power, she forced her eyes to do their job. She was on her side; one eye was in the dirt. She shifted her head, which thankfully brought no pain. The world around her was blurry and bleak—darkness still blanketed the land. She forced her right hoof to move. It was slow and arduous, but it slid across the dirt under her until finally she tried putting some weight on it. All energy had drained from her, and she felt her triceps tremble as she began to push. Every motion brought protest and soreness, but she was finally able to push herself up. The world around was still dark and blurry, and as she stood, extreme dizziness took hold. The ringing in her ears eased and her head stopped pounding. Hearing was restored and she once again heard the sounds of the raging storm above them, but she felt no inclination to look. The only light came from the brief flashes of lightning that scorched the sky. She felt her right side almost give way to the dizziness, and she had to wobble to compensate. She gritted her teeth as her bruised muscles complained, but held firm. None of her legs appeared to be broken. It hurt to take deep breaths, so Ditzy thought a rib or two might be cracked or bruised. She still couldn’t see straight, which she knew wasn’t normal—probably the effect of a concussion. Most of her body was still numb and her mind shell-shocked. There would be no way to accurately assess the damage until later. Ditzy only then became aware that she was still in the harness. Using her teeth, she sluggishly undid the bindings and pulled herself away. She limped over to the carrier, and was shocked to find it completely open, and the packages inside missing. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what this could mean, so she aimlessly looked around to see if they had landed anywhere nearby. She repeatedly blinked in an effort to clear her vision. The darkness was not helping; Ditzy suspected even natural night wasn’t this dark. A bright flash erupted in the sky and momentarily illuminated the land around her, and in the distance Ditzy saw where the packages had landed. They had formed an even mound stacked high with now-probably-ruined material. Ditzy sighed and began to limp over. Another flash cleared the way, but this time Ditzy saw something new: a purple tail sticking out under the mound of heavy boxes. Ditzy caught her breath and froze. “No…no…” she murmured, disbelieving. Forgetting all pain and lack of clarity, Ditzy bolted towards the pile and began shoving down boxes. The littler ones were even a strain, but Ditzy had to grit her teeth to push away the bigger ones. Sound once again escaped her as she became acutely aware of tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried pushing the boxes off the pile. Finally she saw a purple hoof, and all her worse fears had been confirmed. “Twilight!” Ditzy screeched hysterically. The final few boxes were pushes off with superpony strength, and Ditzy saw her friend, by light from the unforgiving maelstrom, lying unmoving on the cold, hard ground. Ditzy didn’t know what to do. She nudged her friend while murmuring wordlessly as the sound of another lightning crack resonated across the sky. She moved a hoof to touch her cheek, but then stole it away as if touching her would make it real, or as if touching her would make her shatter into a thousand pieces. Ditzy saw the blood that matted her purple coat; the limbs mangled, but she just couldn’t accept that what she was seeing was the truth. She frantically glanced around and screamed for help at the top of her lungs, but her sobs diluted the words, and the noise was muffled by the storm. She looked down at Twilight and gingerly folded her forelegs around Twilight’s neck and legs. Ever so slowly, grunting and weeping, Ditzy picked up Twilight off the ground. “D-don’t worry Twilight, I’m going to get you some help, I promise,” Ditzy murmured half-heartedly. She trudged forward a few steps, before she realized the impossibility of walking. She was just took weak, and it was too far. So she unfurled her wings, and with her best leap, began flapping in the air until— PAIN. Her wings buckled and her spine wracked with pure agony that stiffened her body. She was unaware when they hit the ground again, and Twilight sprawled a few feet away. The dirt in her face filled her lungs and stung her eyes, but she could once again feel herself starting to black out. The void of her conscious was demanding to be shut down to repair. With her last effort, she raised a shaky hoof in Twilight direction, trying to grab her. “Tw…Twilight…p-p-please don’t die.” And then all returned to black.