//------------------------------// // Interlude: Breeze // Story: Ponyville Days // by Cirrus Sky //------------------------------// There is an airfield right at the edge of what one could call civilisation, a fair number of states north of Canter. Strangely though, as is the nature of small town life, this little settlement wasn’t a far cry from a little place called Ponyville. It had an airfield and a lake for a start. The expansive body of water, fed by snow melt and wet weather, was the far side of Outpost Airfield. It was a popular local attraction on the edge closer to town, fishing and water-sports during the brief summer warmth, ice skating and ice-fishing in the bitter cold of winter. The section closest to the airfield often served for water landing planes and a training centre at the far end for elite lifesaving units from the armed forces. Today, in the not so warm cusp of autumn, if you visited the lake from the airfield, you’d see a young woman you could only describe as sharp sat on a mooring post at the end of the jetty. Her hair was a short cut and brilliant white, slight hints of purple on the tips that fluttered in the breeze. Her bomber jacket was fastened right up to her chin in deference to the biting chill brought down from the mountains over the lake. The back was emblazoned with a fearsome griffon rearing for flight. She was alone and making it clear she didn’t want to be disturbed. As it stood, no one wished to interrupt her. The small town had adopted the lost soul as one of their own when she’d touched down in a battered Cessna and promptly collapsed with some kind of fever. A military man had attended her bedside and sorted medical bills but he had left swiftly after she began to recover. The airfield had offered her a job, pilots willing to fly to oil platforms and remote settlements were rare and their usual three were on stints of leave. She’d accepted and began to, if somewhat restlessly, settle. But everyone knew she wouldn’t stay for long, some ghost haunted her and many a transient member of the community would come to some epiphany and leave to make things right. It was the atmosphere of the place, oldsters would claim. Another gust roused some slight waves across the lake which lapped against the jetty. Gilda watched the peaceful scene. All she could really see though was the hurt in rose coloured eyes… A large scrape and an ugly purple smudge smothering a face. “Stupid stupid stupid.” She muttered, kicking a loose twig from jetty to lake. She thought back through the months, the bar fights and nights in jail, the dives and squats she’d stopped in to kick up another fight. Reckless driving and flying with barely a flight plan. The creeping illness and a desperate frightening final chance landing, feverish days in hospital and the haunting hallucinations… When she had recovered enough she’d taken a look at her e-mails. Her father had left a message once again, “Come home when you are ready. I respect you are a free spirit. Get strong and confront your demons.” Had been the gist of it. The nurses at the hospital had all spoken of a stern looking military man who had sat beside her bed for the three days of fever and confusion. The old man had his way of dealing with his wayward daughter, she respected that at least. Another e-mail in her inbox was a short message from Rainbow. Her ex... “I have someone else now. If you ever come back, I’m not sure what will happen.” That one had stung, deservedly so after their parting of ways. All Gilda could see were the stains under her fingernails and four knuckles that deserved a brand, some mark to remind her of the darkness that lurked beneath. Only a smattering of tiny white scars were across them. The final important message, amongst a sea of junk-mail and reminders had been quite long and carefully written. From someone Rainbow deserved, from the librarian and as it turned out, student of a governor. Gilda half smiled despite herself, it had started off angry in tone… all the words she held over herself and that whispered in the night, then an outreached hand, tentative and guarded. A chance. A chance she wanted to take. Finished with introspection Gilda turned heel and walked back to the airfield office. She had a meeting with the boss. * “So the boys will be back soon, their vacations and training are all over.” The stocky man scratched his head, “We don’t have room for yah after that Gilda. We can’t pay yah and there ain’t any jobs left.” He looked sorrowfully to his pilot. “Eh, it’s fine Prop, really. I gotta move on anyway,” Gilda grinned nonchalantly. “There’s always a job for a hotshot skyjocky somewhere.” She lifted her booted feet to the desk she sat at, a right angle to the managers. “Well, I got some listings here for yah, if you want to take a look.” He threw a hefty sheath of papers to her. “Take a look. We’ll surely pay yah off and fuel yah up to go.” Gilda nodded and threw her jacket over a chair before settling in to read. It was a fair time later when she read something she had never expected. “Wanted: Life Flight Pilots (x4) for the Ponyville area. Based at Spectrum Airfield.” There was a list of expected experience and salary details but none of that really mattered. “Found something?” Prop had noticed her silent pause. “Yeah, yeah… Not sure if I’d be welcome there though.” Gilda palmed the sheet to him. “Why for? I’d give yah reference for it.” He once again scratched his scalp. “Looks like something yah’d do well in.” “Yeah, would be.” Gilda replied morosely. “But I burned some bridges that will be pretty hard to fix.” “With the boss out there? Whas’er name… Got it off old Speed. That codger taught me howta fly in the air force.” Prop thought for a moment but Gilda butted in. “Rainbow Dash… My ex.” Gilda gave a sigh. “Tell me boss, it’s never right to hit anyone, ‘specially someone you say you love. Right?” “Say it ain’t so Gilda. I’ve busted jaws fer less…” “A black eye I think…” Gilda trailed off and idly looked at her hand, the pattern of scars from punching a window through in a fit of rage at herself, starker white in the electric light. “That ain’t ever a good action Gilda.” Prop said, “Then yah tried to self-destruct right? Was it the first time yah did anythin’ like that?” “Yeah… We were rough with each other but that was all for fun. You know? Heh, I was always the dominant one.” Gilda stared ahead at the wall. “I don’t do words, I got angry, I hit her.” “Action not speaking right? Load of us skyjockys are like that. Just not, yah know… that far.” He spoke uneasily, “Well… not all of us. Yah hear stuff though.” He grunted. “I have to do something about it though.” Gilda rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a battered wallet, folded up inside was a scruffy photograph of two pre-teens grinning madly. “We were friends for so long, only had each other… Being military brats from both parents kinda sets you apart. This past few months have been really bad for me.” Gilda sighed. “So, my contracts up at the end of the week right? Can I get a reference; I need something on my side when I get down to Ponyville.” A change of subject cleared the air. “Sure thing kid. And remember, yah use yah head and words, not fists.” * On a clear skied Friday a Renegade Falcon LS took off, heading for Ponyville.