Rumble smiled through his breathlessness as he approached home, and half-flew to the next small cloud. He had actually flown most of the way from school, but his wings were worn out and it was easier to jump from cloud to cloud at this point. He felt a bit disappointed in himself for giving in, but managed to convince himself that for once it didn’t really matter. He realised that, for some inexplicable reason, he was in a good mood.
He opened the door and ran through the living room. He made for the kitchen, intending to open and look at the letter as soon as he could. Flitter should be at work for a while, and Cloudchaser’s usually asleep this time of day, so I shouldn’t be interup-
“Rumble! Come’n join the party!” Rumble leaned back and stretched out his wings, slowing him down. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts before looking back up.
Flitter was slung across the ratty old couch Star Hunter had dragged in a few weeks ago, her hoof clamped around Cloudchaser’s side. There were several empty bottles of cider scattered around the room, and Rumble could see a container of salt on the floor. Flitter had clumps of salt stuck around her mouth, and an orange stain on her wing that Rumble guessed was cider. Cloudchaser herself looked like she’d been dragged through a series of interlocking gears, and her half-closed eyes looked more shadowed than her usual sleep-deprived self. Rumble could bet that Flitter had woken her up, and given how badly Rumble’s experiences of encountering Cloudchaser on her way back from the night-shift were, he could believe that she might not even have too much of the salt.
Rumble stared for a moment, taken aback. “Uh… you’re here,” he said lamely, waving his wings around for added emphasis. Flitter curled her wing around a bottle of cider and expertly chugged it down.
“Mhmm,” she slurred, followed by a huge burp only a pony adept at handling winds could muster. She waved the bottle in Cloudchaser’s face. “Wan’ some, sis?” She didn’t wait for an answer before pouring half the bottle down her sister’s mane and the other half onto the floor. “Woops!” Cloudchaser didn’t react much, so Rumble winced for her. Someone’s going to have to wring out the floor later.
Cloudchaser seemed vaguely aware that someone else had entered the room, and slowly turned to squint at Rumble. Rumble waited uncomfortably as she stared, took an abnormally long blink, and stared for a while longer. “Thunderlane?” she said. Rumble felt the urge to face-hoof.
Flitter bent double in a wordless laugh, dragging Cloudchaser down with her. “No silly filly! It’s Rum – uh, Gurmb – Rubbl – oh whatever, it’s Whositscalled!” Rumble wished there was a convenient wall to bang his head against so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. He settled for leaving the room while Flitter was still laughing. He was almost to his own room when he heard Flitter’s slurred voice from the living room. “Hey! Where’d he go?” Rumble hurried to his room and slammed the door closed.
He took one deep breath and tried to calm himself down. It wasn’t that he hated Flitter and Cloudchaser. It wasn’t even that he couldn’t stand to be around when they weren’t sober. It was because, somehow, they’d ruined Rumble’s good mood.
He ran his hoof over his mane a few times before sighing and letting the whole affair go. He still wasn’t as happy as just a few minutes before, but at least he still had the letter to look at.
“The letter,” he murmured. He flapped his wings and jumped onto his bed, twisting in mid-air so he landed on his back with his saddlebag on his belly. He felt a twinge go through him when he realised that the saddlebag wasn’t properly closed. Now that he thought about it, his saddlebag didn’t seem as heavy as it had in the morning… Rumble sat up and hesitantly pawed through his bag.
The novel he had been reading at lunch was gone, and an oat bar he’d been saving for later. “At least the letter didn’t fall out,” he said, weighing the scroll on his hoof before carefully placing it under his blanket. If he went back now he should have a good chance of finding the book. He slid off the bed and put on his saddlebag, making sure that everything was properly closed this time. He left a short note in the kitchen for when Flitter and Cloudchaser were aware enough to notice he wasn’t home – not that Rumble had any intention of being gone that long.
Rumble couldn’t help but notice when he stepped out the back door that the wind was picking up. He ran back inside and crept into Cloudchaser’s room, a bit nervous about entering. He found the radio that all weather-ponies kept and turned it on. Somepony was reporting a class-one thunderstorm heading west to Ponyville. Buck, the book’s going to get wet sitting outside in the rain. I’ll bring a raincoat to keep it dry.
Rumble left through the back door so Flitter and Cloudchaser wouldn’t see him go. He adjusted his raincoat and jumped onto the nearest cloud. It was moving quickly and wasn’t particularly stable; Rumble fell through it. He glided down to a paddock below, and gazed up. Flying above the clouds isn’t going to be a good idea, he realised. I can’t hop on the clouds if they’re going to be moving that fast either.
Rumble stretched his wings a little as the wind surged. Winds are going the same way as me. Perfect. Rumble fully extended his wings and pushed off the grass, skimming close to the ground, flying.
The rain hadn’t started when Rumble arrived at the schoolhouse, but after an hour of searching in vain for his book the downpour had begun. Rain dropped from the sky so thick and fast that Rumble could hardly see where he was going. The constant rattle of raindrops against the ground was incredibly disorientating.
Rumble didn’t dare fly in the rain, but he was pushed around so much by the wind that he had to use his wings to keep himself on the ground. They became soaked, and Rumble began to wonder if going out alone in the rain was such a good idea.
He stumbled forward a few more steps, and the red side of the schoolhouse came into view. That’s it! Cheerilee might still be there, and I can stick around inside until the storm ends! Rumble half-galloped half-bounced to the bright red wall, and ran around to the door, pulling his hood further over his head.
“Miss Cheerilee!” he shouted, not very loudly at first. “Miss Cheerilee!” He knocked on the door loudly , but there was no answer. “Buckwheat,” he muttered. He couldn’t fly home in this storm, Rumble knew that; yet staying exposed in such drenching rain, even with a raincoat, wasn’t the wisest option. Scruching up against the side of the schoolhouse, trying to shelter as much he could, Rumble wondered how in Celestia he was going to get out of this situation.
My poor book’s going to be ruined, and I’ll get sick and Flitter and Cloudchaser are going to have hangovers, he thought sadly.
Suddenly he heard a muted slamming sound from around the side of the schoolhouse. Rumble shot towards the noise, tripping over his slipping hooves and tumbling head over hooves. He righted himself and edged more carefully along the wall, turning his eyes away from the stinging rain.
Finally, after a lifetime of slowly edging closer, Rumble reached something he almost face-hoofed himself for forgetting: the trapdoor into the basement, where the Foal Free Press held their meetings and printed their newsletter. The trapdoor must have come loose a while before, and been slammed closed by the wind. Rumble pushed open the trapdoor.
He jumped inside and kicked the wildly flapping doors closed, before falling down the steps to the basement.
It was a lot quieter down here, and Rumble’s ears felt heavenly after the cacophonous rain outside. He carefully got up and looked around the dim room, where he noticed something odd.
Two colts were staring, wide-eyed, right back at him.