~ The Seventh Night ~
Misty shut her front door, dropped her saddlebags next to it, and slumped towards the staircase. Upstairs, a tepid bath was waiting for her. She sank into it, allowing her hair to pool around her head. Only one more week until the running of the leaves, and Babs was starting to push the pace. It was exhausting, even with the trick she had looked up in her father's library to make herself lighter.
And then there was the way Babs kept encouraging them all to sign up for the race. Misty didn't want whole crowds of people seeing her a sweaty mess at the finish line. She had already decided that if Babs pushed the issue, she would feign a knee injury the day before the race. That way on race day she would be sipping iced tea at the finish line, pretty as you please, and no one would say two words about it. Babs and Squall could run themselves ragged, and finish proudly. Everyone would feel like a winner.
After her bath, she brushed out her mane and tail, and headed down for dinner. It turned out to be another plate of seasoned vegetables and a lentil soup. Her parents had embraced her health kick cover story just a little too much - these days, every meal they ate was about replacing electrolytes and helping build lean muscle instead of significantly more important factors like flavour. If Misty heard the words 'portion control' one more time, she was certain she would go mad.
The worst part was having to smile and act pleased that her parents were taking an interest. She knew full well her father thought it was a waste of time, and she suspected that deep down her mother agreed. Heavens, she was starting to agree herself. But the truth was much too complicated to risk exposing now, and her parents had gone to such lengths to participate in the deception that now everyone was stuck with it. Misty just hoped that once winter set in the whole running thing would be buried along with the sidewalks under a good old Manehattan snowbank. She had never been so eager for the first snow of the year.
As she was finishing dinner, Broomhilda came in with a silver tray, and delivered a letter that had just arrived for Misty. She said that Squall had just dropped it off, and seemed like he was in a bit of a rush.
Misty looked at the envelope, and noticed that "CMC" had been written over the flap. Misty had suggested to the group that any time they had to talk about their secret training in a message, they use that to remind people to open it in private. Misty calmly finished her dinner, excused herself, and then hurried upstairs to read the message. She lit a small fire in the fireplace in her room, and sat down next to it to read.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Misty.
Emergency Crusader meeting. Birch Ridge Park, south gate. Go to the stand of trees in the hollow at sunset.
Tell no one. Super secret.
Squall.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Squall was up to something.
It was the use of the word 'emergency' that gave it away. Misty had seen Squall leave notes for his mother when they were in a hurry. The hoofwriting in his message had been much too neat for this letter to have been written by Squall when he was in a rush. This was a polished letter, probably not even a first draft.
So this clearly wasn't an emergency. Squall was fibbing. Also, he'd used a letter instead of just asking her to come to the door to tell her the news. Squall wasn't the world's most convincing liar, and he knew it. Using a letter meant he could fib a bit without being questioned. Obviously, he was worried she would ask him about the real reason for the meeting.
The 'tell no one' part probably meant he didn't want Babs to find out what he was up to, which meant she probably wasn't involved. But if Squall wanted to meet her privately, all he would have to do was ask. Unless, of course, he wasn't the Crusader she was meeting.
Cold Star. This had to be about her. She was trying to get Misty alone.
But why? To talk? To try and scare her again? Or... perhaps something worse? She had seemed so angry about what happened in the clubhouse. Misty found herself shivering, and pushed the mounting sense of terror away. She considered not showing up to the meeting, but that was simply out of the question. For all she was a small filly, she was still of a noble house of Canterlot. She had her pride.
Stupid, stupid Canterlot pride.
She gritted her teeth as she wrote down the directions on a separate piece of paper, then placed the original note and the envelope into the fire. She watched it disappear in the flames, and then made her way downstairs. She tucked the directions into her bag, and after a long moment of deliberation her Crusader Cape joined it. She poked her head into the dining room and told her parents she was going for a walk, smiling at her fathers concerned objection about the lateness of the hour and confidently explaining that she would back before it got too dark. It felt like an obvious lie, but her parents didn't seem to think so.
Then, with no small amount of trepidation, she headed out towards the park to face Cold Star.
* * * * *
Birch Ridge Park was in its full autumn splendour. The breeze was gentle and cool, rustling the rusty leaves as the sunset played over them. It was the kind of scene that painters laboured to immortalize. To any other pony, it would have been the perfect place to take a nice evening walk.
Misty barely noticed as she trotted along the sidewalk towards the park's south gate, completely focused on the stand of trees she had been directed to. She had hoped to get here a bit before sunset, but her legs were just too tired to run any more today. Fortunately, there was still enough light streaming through the trees that Misty had no trouble seeing. The shadows on the ground were long, but not long enough to hide a whole pony. Not even Cold Star.
Misty glanced around, and when she found nopony nearby she stepped off of the sidewalk and slipped through a break in the underbrush, making her way down into the hollow. The hollow was much like she'd expected - icky, musty, and full of more moss and mud than actual ground. She had to hop from stone to stone as she made her way towards the hollow's lowest point, where a stream had carved out a little ravine.
The leafy trees at the edge of the hollow had given way to a stand of tall confers as she made her way down. They had wide branches that formed into skirts around their base, easily large enough to hide a couple of ponies. Misty slowed, nervously searching the area for which tree Cold Star was hiding herself under. She didn't fancy being surprised, so she gave all of the trees a wide berth.
She had been walking around for several minutes when a noise caught her attention - a metallic clink. She froze, looking back and forth for the origin of the sound. It appeared to be coming from beneath the branches of an old pine tree whose bottoms branches were a bit withered from lack of sun.
Misty stood up straight, forcing her posture into something that radiated a confidence she didn't feel. "There's no use hiding. I heard you moving."
A quiet voice returned, and Misty was not surprised to hear it was Cold Star's. "I am not hiding. Please, come and join me under this tree."
Misty sniffed. "I think not. After last time, I would rather stay out in the open, thank you very much."
Cold Star did not reply. Instead, a small brass-coloured key flew out from the base of the old pine. It bounced across the ground and came to rest near Misty's hoof.
Misty picked it up. "What's this?"
"A promise of safety. We need to talk. This will guarantee we can do that."
"And how is an old key going to help us to do that, exactly?"
"Come under here and see for yourself. You have my solemn oath that I will not come near you without your permission."
Misty scowled, but she was determined not to let Cold Star intimidate her again. She pushed the long boughs of the pine aside, and peered into the shadows underneath it.
Cold Star sat with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree. Her costume was folded neatly and placed on the ground just outside of her reach, leaving her fangs and ears exposed. Her wings were spread, and pulled back at what looked like an uncomfortable angle against the tree trunk. When Misty looked to see why, she was startled to find a steel manacle wrapped around the base of Cold Star's wing. Cold Star flexed her wings, and Misty heard the clinking noise again. There was a matching manacle on the other wing.
Cold Star had chained herself to the tree. And as near as she could figure, Misty was now holding the key.
Misty could only stare at her in dumbfounded confusion. "Cold Star, what in Equestria is going on here?"
Cold Star took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "The last time we met, we both violated each others trust. Truthfully, I do not know that you have ever trusted me, and I will admit that I am not a pony to whom trust comes very easily. But regardless, I treated you badly - hurtfully. I was wrong to do so, especially in anger."
"That doesn't explain why you're chained to a tree."
Cold star shrugged. "Because it is the best way I could think of for us to speak as equals. This way, I cannot menace you. Nor can leave this tree until you allow me to do so. If you were to decide that I am a threat to you or your friends, it would be a simple matter for you to run and find a sheriff. I would be powerless to stop you, and it is unlikely I could escape before you returned with the law."
Misty scowled, looking the manacles over. "I'm sure you've thought up some means of escape you could use."
Cold Star nodded. "True. My only chance would be to dislocate one of my wings, and then use a sharp branch to cut apart the skin between my wing-bones. Then I could probably force the joints in my wing straight enough to slip out of the manacle. But in doing so, I would have damaged my wing beyond repair. I would almost certainly never fly again, and the sheriff's dogs would have an easy time following the trail of blood I would be leaving from my injuries. Quite honestly, I would probably be lucky if they found me at that point, since I would be at risk of bleeding to death without medical attention."
Misty cringed. "That's a bit morbid, don't you think?"
Cold Star smiled weakly. "It is one of the most awful things I can imagine experiencing. I've always been terrified of losing my wings. Which is why I felt this was fair."
"Fair? How?"
"I made you face one of your greatest fears thoughtlessly. I put you through something horrible. Now, I am placing you in a position to do the same to me. If you decide to run, then I will face my two greatest fears - failure as a Crusader, or the destruction of my wing and the loss to my ability to fly. The only thing that is keeping me from trembling before those fears is hope. Hope that you are the kind of pony that Babs believes you are. That you are the kind of pony I want to believe that you are."
"And what kind of pony is that?"
"The kind I can trust. The kind who will not betray me."
Misty looked at the key in her hoof. Then she sat down, placing the key next to her and well out of Cold Star's reach. Cold Star just nodded, and they stared at each other for several moments, as if considering where to start.
Ultimately, Misty spoke up first. "Alright. Shall we begin with you telling me why you had Squall lie to me about an emergency meeting to get me here?"
Cold Star frowned. "I didn't ask him to do that. I ask him to convince you to meet me. I didn't know he would attempt to use a ruse to do it. I apologize."
Misty sighed. "I thought it might be his idea of a prank. Something to pay me back for last weekend."
"Is that an admission of guilt?"
"It's an admission that maybe I have some payback coming for doing what I did. That's not the same as feeling guilty."
"That is a very semantic difference."
"I am from Canterlot. We thrive on semantics."
"But we are in Manehattan. Why not try the local candor instead?"
"You want candor? How's this: I'm tired of you treating my magic like it doesn't exist, or is off limits. I'm not sorry I tried to use it to do the drill better."
"You should be. You hurt Squall."
"Yes. Which was an accident, and for which I have repeatedly apologized."
"You think that makes it alright?"
"Yes. Between Squall and I, at least. You seem to have held much more of a grudge."
Cold Star looked at her severely. "You lied."
Misty casually plucked a couple of pine needles from her mane, refusing to return Cold Star's gaze. "I omitted part of the truth, because I was afraid you would be angry. And I was right. Don't act like you don't do the same, when it suits you. I read that new interview you did with Daily Times. You have all kinds of secrets you don't like sharing."
Cold Star glowered at her. "I met with Daily Times because I needed to talk to a unicorn, and I wasn't sure I could get honest answers from you. I suppose he didn't think that those questions were news-worthy."
"Answers about what?"
"About whether or not what happened with Squall could be an accident. I wanted desperately to give you the benefit of the doubt. It turns out that I need not have bothered, since you have so proudly admitted to cheating on the drill."
"I am not cheating. I am just doing it differently. Doing it my own way."
"Your way is not the right way."
"How do you know? Maybe it's right for me. Maybe I should be more worried about my magic, and less worried about how to keep imaginary ponies from putting me in choke-holds."
"Or maybe you are realizing the truth - that you are half the pony Babs or Squall are when you don't have your magic to lean on."
Misty stood up, indignant. "That is not fair. I am working just as hard as either of them. Harder, probably, since I'm a unicorn."
"You being a unicorn has nothing to do with it. It is about work ethic. Yours is sadly lacking."
Misty was back on her hooves instantly. "How dare you? You, who are a specialist in taking the easy way out!"
Cold Star scowled. "In what way?"
Misty stamped her hoof indignantly. "I've seen how you operate. You strike from the shadows! You dive in on ponies all unawares and beat them up before they even have a chance to defend themselves! You act all brave, but really you are just a coward and a cheap-shot artist!"
"I employ the strategy I need to in order to fight bigger ponies and superior numbers. They call that tactics."
Misty smiled smugly. "Now who's being semantic?"
Cold Star shrugged it off. "You're just trying to change the subject. You don't like hearing the truth."
"And what truth is that?"
"That you are lazy."
"Lazy? Hardly! Do you think it's lazy for me to run all those horrible laps around this park? Do you think its lazy for me to come out and do your silly rolling drills night after night, just so we can start learning to choke each other? Your definition of lazy is absurd."
"No. I call it lazy because you do not excel at any of it. You should already have mastered those things. Instead, you are merely adequate."
Misty's face darkened. "You sound just like my father. Blaming me just because I'm not as good as you want me to be. Well excuse me if I'm not perfect, alright?"
"No. I will not excuse you. Because you already excuse yourself, and someone has to be willing to hold you to a higher standard."
Misty stomped her hoof again. "I have standards! I am not lazy!"
Cold Star's manacles rattled as she strained against them, pointing a hoof at Misty's chest. "Yes you are! Because you have no willpower, and no sense of self-motivation. That is the only reason you are struggling. When the task gets difficult, instead of putting your head down and fighting through it, you take a short cut. You have no concept of what it means to really give your all. And that is the only reason you are not excellent."
Misty sat back down, her eyes stinging with barely-contained tears. "I'm not excellent because I can't do it. I'm not strong, and I'm not talented. All I am is clever, and that doesn't do me any good when I'm trying to run or roll or do a cartwheel. So I try to use my cleverness to help me keep up with Babs and Squall, who are strong and talented. And that means using magic, because I don't have anything else I can use."
"Babs and Squall have nothing you don't have."
Misty pointed back at Cold Star, accusation in her eyes. "Hogwash! Babs was stronger than any of us before we even started training, because she's a born farm-horse. And now she's becoming an athlete on top of it. All the running and push-ups aren't even a challenge for her any more. She barely breaks a sweat. And you've seen how fast Squall learned to roll. He's a natural. All you ever give us to do are physical things, and I'm awful at all of them just like most other unicorns. Don't tell me they don't have an advantage."
"Babs is naturally athletic, yes. Enough to run ahead and earn herself a lot of push-ups in the process. Now, let me ask you this - how often have you ever seen Babs dawdle on her run, or rest instead of doing her push-ups?"
Misty scowled. "She likes the workouts. It's not the same."
Cold Star rolled her eyes, in exactly the way Misty did when she thought Cold Star was being ridiculous. Misty found it inexplicably annoying. "Nopony likes push-ups, Misty. They are difficult, and incredibly tedious once you get up past about five. It is not the push-ups she likes. It is the challenge. She likes knowing that she is pushing her limits. If not, she could just slow down to match you and Squall."
"You mean match me. Squall's running is getting to be almost as good as his rolling. He's almost keeping pace with Babs, now. He's started doing pushups with her while they wait for me. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?"
"Then you should train harder, and force them to keep up with you."
Misty waved her hooves in exasperation. "How am I supposed to get better than them when they are already so much better than I am? We're doing the same stupid workouts!"
"Yes. But did you know that Squall is doing another full workout every morning before he comes to school?"
Misty could only gape. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. He gets up early and flies a lap around the city. He stops whenever his wings need a rest to do rolls and cartwheels. That explains why he is getting better so much faster - because results are a product of time invested. It is as simple as that."
"So, what? Should I be doing three workouts a day? When? Or better yet, why? Why bother?"
"You are the one complaining that you cannot keep up. If you want to keep up, that would be the best way to do so."
Misty stood up, pacing around the hollow beneath the tree. "No, I mean what's the point of it all? Babs is always going to be stronger, and Squall is a colt. Have you even seen his mother? She's a giant. Another year or two and I bet he'll be twice my size. What's the point of trying to keep up with them?"
Cold Star shrugged. "Because the alternative is falling farther and farther behind. Which is just going to make you more frustrated. Which is just going to lead to you trying to use magic more and more to make up the difference."
"So what if I do?"
"Then you will come to rely on it too much. And then one day when your magic fails you at a critical moment, you will be defeated and very possibly hurt. And I would know - it has happen to every unicorn that I have come into conflict with. As your teacher... and as your friend, Misty, I don't want to see that happen to you."
Misty stamped her way over to Cold Star, glaring at her. "Some friend you are. You insult me, and accuse me of things, and you think I'm a failure. That's not friendship. That's judgement. And I get enough of that from my father, thank you very much."
For the first time since she'd met her, she saw Cold Star look genuinely contrite. "I... do not think you are a failure. And I did not know your relationship with your father was so strained. I am sorry to hear that. I know what it is like to be unable to meet your parents expectations."
Misty rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure. I bet you're a real under-achiever. So were you the last in your class to get a cutie mark?"
"No. I was amongst the first. I learned very young that I had a talent for martial combat and tactics, and that I had a strong sense of justice."
"That figures. I bet you were at the top of your classes in school, too."
"There were better students. I was only rarely in the top five of my class on any examination we wrote."
"How tragic. I'm sure your family was very worried how your grades would affect your future as an awesome-warrior-champion-of-justice."
"Actually, my father is a historian. My mother weaves tapestries. And they are both devout pacifists. So although they are both proud of me in their ways, I will always be something of a disappointment to them."
Misty was dumbstruck. "That... is not at all what I expected. I had just assumed that your family were like you. Crusaders."
"Not at all. Though all citizens of Tartarus serve in the military as a part of their schooling, both of my parents went through the program as objectors, assigned only to administrative duties and refusing to participate in combat training. That is how they met, in fact. They were one of only a handful of ponies at their school who shared their beliefs. It is one of the foundations of their relationship."
Misty frowned slightly, playing through the implications in her head. "So I guess they didn't really appreciate your choice of careers."
"No. Though to their credit, they never tried to stop me from becoming the kind of pony I dreamed of being, despite their strong reservations. But I think they both would have been a lot happier if I had stuck with my first childhood interest."
"What was that?"
"When I was little, I wanted to be a dancer."
Misty could only stare at Cold Star for a long moment, and then a most undignified giggle escaped her throat. "You? Prancing around in tights? I can't even picture it."
Cold Star grinned sheepishly. "I took lessons all the way up until senior school. I still do my recital pieces sometimes as a light workout, when nopony else is around."
"I had no idea."
"You never asked."
"I would never have though to. I can't imagine you doing anything so... girly."
"There are a lot of things that you do not know about me. Just as there are many things I do not know about you. Maybe that is why we have trouble trusting each other. I have offered you a piece of my history. May I ask for one in return?"
Misty shrugged. "I suppose."
"Would you tell me what happened in Canterlot?"
Misty's face slowly lost all expression. "I don't like to talk about it."
"I understand that. But I would like to know, all the same."
"Why? What business is it of yours?"
"I wish to help you get over your fear. Of the Changelings, and of me."
Misty smiled slightly, but it wasn't an honest smile. "Thank you for the thought. But I think you have already solved that particular problem. The next time you act scary, I'm going to picture you in a pink tutu. That should keep me from taking you too seriously."
Cold Star shook her head sadly. "You still do not trust me."
"Not with everything, no. But we have to start somewhere." Misty picked up the brass key. "So, maybe this is good enough to begin with."
She made her way over to Cold Star, and then pointedly used her magic to take hold of the key, bringing it up and around to fit with the lock on Cold Star's wing. With a firm flick of her horn, she popped the lock open. She repeated it on the other side. Cold Star sat forward slowly, stretching her wings. The bat pony nodded. "Yes. I suppose this is a good place to start. Thank you for letting me out."
Misty nodded. "It was the least I could do. Where did you get these manacles, anyways?"
"I asked Zelest if she knew of somewhere I could get some sturdy rope to bind myself with, and it turned out she had these in one of her upstairs closets. It was quite a lucky coincidence."
"Why would Zelest need manacles?"
Cold Star looked down at the steel chains, which appeared to be in reasonably good repair. "You know, I did not think to ask. Perhaps they are left over from the house's more infamous period?"
Misty looked at the manacles, and then at Cold Star, and then back to the manacles. "Sure. Let's go with that." This seemed like a very good place to change the topic. "So, what else did you chat with Daily Times about?"
Cold Star stood up and did a couple of slow stretches. "I talked to him about magic. He is surprisingly capable, for a reporter. I though he might have some ideas that would help your training."
Misty rolled her eyes. "He's a reporter. I rather doubt he knows anything that my father doesn't about magical education."
"He can apperate. I thought that might be useful."
Misty frowned. "Are you serious? There are no more than a half-dozen ponies I know of who are powerful or skilled enough to perform that spell, my father included."
"That is what I thought. He shared the secret with me."
"And what was that?"
Cold Star pulled back her lip in what could only be described as a smug smirk. "Hard work. Lots of blood, sweat and tears. He was up front in saying he was nothing special as far as magic was concerned, much as you seem to think you are. That makes me think that you could become quite powerful, if you wanted to. But it's going to require a lot of training."
Misty grimaced. "Is it going to involve running more laps?"
"No. Well, not laps anyway. We are done with those for now. Tomorrow, everyone is getting new workouts. They will focus on more practical tasks, and emphasize each of your specific needs. Some of which, I hope, will also help you exercise your magic."
Misty perked up a little. "Seriously?"
"Yes. And in exchange, I want your promise that you will not use magic any more to try and 'help' your physical training. Especially not when you're working with the others. That is a recipe for accidents, and I don't want anypony else getting hurt. I'm sure you don't either."
Misty's head sagged a little. "Fair enough. I think I've learned my lesson."
Cold Star sat down next to her. "Why so glum about it, then?"
Misty didn't look up. "Tell me the truth. Do you think I'm ever going to be able to keep up with them?"
Cold Star shook her head. "In terms of physical strength, probably not. Sooner or later, their blood will tell, and they are working extremely hard on top of that. The truth is that some ponies are bigger, some are stronger, and some just have to make do."
Misty sighed. "I was afraid you would say that."
Cold Star shrugged. "So what? It's not like you need to be stronger than they are. Or faster. All a Crusader needs to worry about is technique."
Misty looked over at the bat-mare. "What does that even mean?"
Cold Star smiled. "Let me tell you a story. When I first started learning martial combat, my Master brought me to another teacher, who he said would instruct me in grappling. Her name was Master Stillwater, and she was one of the oldest ponies I had ever seen. She walked very slowly, and had a limp in one of her back legs from an old injury. She had been a Crusader for nearly a hundred years, when we met.
"Now, being young and foolish, I thought I would rather learn my skills from my Master, since he was a much bigger, stronger stallion. He laughed, and said that Master Stillwater had taught him the martial way when he was a young colt. He said that even though she was too old to do much kicking now, she would be more than a match for me in a grapple.
"Naturally, I felt terribly insulted that he thought this crippled old nag was a fair match for me. I didn't say so, but I think Master Stillwater could read my face. She told me that humbleness was the most important step on the martial path. For martial ponies, humbleness is showed by bowing your head to the floor. So, that being the case, the first time I could force her to touch her head to the floor of the training hall, she would admit I was the finer pony, and graduate me."
Misty was listening intently. "So what did you do?"
"About what you'd expect. I accepted, and immediately asked permission to have a match with her. Thus began a very, very frustrating afternoon trying to knock the old bat off of her hooves. I did not succeed. About an hour into the class, she started pointing to certain spots on the floor of the training hall, saying 'this is where you will land next'. And the worst part was, I did. Every single time. She would catch me by a hoof or a wing, and before I knew what was happening I was flank over fetlocks, landing flat on my back.
"Finally, after a couple of hours, I was completely exhausted. She hadn't even broken a sweat. And why would she? She had barely moved in all that time, but to make the small adjustments she needed to throw me around like a rag doll. I have never felt so helpless in all my life as I did after our last exchange. Instead of just throwing me around, she deftly pinned my leg behind me, stepped around my wing to pin it against my body, and stuck a leg around my neck. She was old, less than half my size, and in that moment she could have choked me to death and there would not have been a single thing in all the world I could have done about it.
"She held the choke too, to see if I would fight for my life. I struggled valiantly, which was probably the only thing I did right all day. My vision was going blurry when she finally let go of my neck, grabbed a hold of my mane, and pressed my head to the floor, just to make it clear how easy it was for her to do it. Then she leaned over and whispered her lesson for the day. 'Remember, child', she said. 'Strength and size don't mean anything if I am this much better than you are. Better always wins.' "
Misty was wide-eyed. "So, did you ever beat her?"
"A couple of times I managed to complete a leg-lock or a choke correctly, and she was forced to tap her hoof. The first was after we had been training together every day for almost three years. I won a couple of more matches over the next two years, which were my last as her student. But in all that time, I never once touched her head to the floor."
Misty grimaced in sympathy. "That must have been frustrating."
"Not at all. Well, it was for about the first week. But after that she taught me another lesson - that a journey across Equestria can only be achieved by taking one step after another. Becoming skilled doesn't happen in a few days, or even a few months. It can take years of training to become truly proficient at something. That means it also takes dedication. You have to train when you are tired, and sick, or disenchanted with the idea of ever achieving your goals. I have learned that dedication is an important part of what separates Crusaders from other ponies."
Misty looked at Cold Star, worry in her eyes. "I don't know if I have that in me."
Cold Star put a hoof on Misty's shoulder "Some days, I do not know if I do either."
Misty arched an eyebrow. "Come on. Seriously?"
Cold Star nodded. "Yes. Seriously. But I get up and put on my cape anyways, and I do my best to prove that doubting part of me wrong. So far, I have done so. I hope that you will, too."
Misty reached slowly into her saddlebag and pulled out her Crusader cape. "You know, I almost didn't bring this with me because... because I thought maybe you were going to take it away. I was so scared you were going to say I wasn't allowed to train with Babs and Squall any more, because of what I'd done." She sniffled, and tears began to pool at the side of her eyes.
Cold Star moved to sit in front of her, resting a hoof on her shoulder. "And I was afraid that you hated me, and that as soon as you had the key in your hoof you would zap me with a spell and run off to find a sheriff. I am glad we were both wrong."
Misty sniffled one more, and wiped at her face. Then she wrapped her cape over her shoulders and pinned it in place. She looked up at Cold Star and smiled. "So, same time tomorrow night?"
Cold Star nodded. "Yes. If you get there before I do, work on your backwards rolls. I expect you will need them when we start learning how to kick."
Misty groaned, but then she looked back at Cold Star and nodded in resigned acceptance.
When they stepped out of the hollow, Cold Star was back in her disguise. The sun had set, and Misty was sure she would get a talking to if she didn't hurry home. She said goodnight and cantered off, not bothering to look back, knowing full well Cold Star would already have disappeared from view.
When she heard the clock tower ringing, she moved up from a canter to a trot. Then a full gallop, when she realized what hour had just chimed. She was out of breath by the time she left the park, but decided that without any traffic on the streets, she might as well see how much time she could cut off the trip. All that running had to have been good for something.
She arrived home before the clock struck quarter past. She was sweating, and her legs were even more sore then they were before. But when she reached the gate and discovered she had to use her magic to push it open because her legs couldn't manage it, she felt somehow satisfied. It was a stupid satisfaction - the same kind she felt every time she did something that her pride had demanded. But as she headed inside to make her excuses to her parents, she felt better about herself than she had in a long time.
Maybe the running wasn't so bad after all.