//------------------------------// // 3 - Weather, Whims and Fillies // Story: From Dusk to Night // by KuroiTsubasaTenshi //------------------------------// The next day brought a strange collaboration with the previous night. I was called to the edge of the Everfree to help fight off a rogue cold front. While the temperatures were hardly deadly, they were still far less than the day’s allocated low. Plus it was good practice for when the wild blizzard clouds would inevitably try to move in. I’d promised myself that I’d never let a storm like the Great Winter Wrap-Up Catastrophe happen again, even if I had to face it alone. Such… recklessness is always ill-advised, even against a controlled storm, but when letting it go was, historically, magnitudes worse, there isn’t much of a choice in the matter. My logical side was always quick to remind me that I should never be in a situation like that again, that it was gone for good. The one with no name had been struck down by the Elements; Princess Celestia herself had assured us of its destruction. And yet, some part of me couldn’t quite believe, or perhaps it was that I feared there were more of… whatever that thing was, out there. Oddly enough, I found my thoughts drifting toward something else. I was skirting the edge of one of the most dangerous places in Equestria; one that Starshadow seemed wholly unconcerned about not only entering, but fighting the denizens of. It’s not that I didn’t believe her. She definitely didn’t seem the type to blow hot air and that’s discounting the fact that something about her just exuded power. But I’d also seen proof of their strength. I’d watched those small, demonic bugs nearly devour our town, all the while impervious to conventional attacks. I’d seen an angry astral bear, no smaller than a house, rampage through our town square. Any attempts to confront it directly only made it more pissed off. And then there were the evil… worm things. Sightless, growling, gnashing and seemingly endless, they’d swarmed through the streets. That somepony wanted to fight things like those, and on their home turf, no less, was something I had difficulty wrapping my head around. But then again, I was no warrior, which was the fundamental difference between she and I. The shift was short, but intense, with my thoughts driving me into a worker’s trance. Before I knew it, I’d already flown back to the weather office and logged my hours. Lingering sweat clung to the inside of my coat as I stepped out into the nearly vacant town hall. As with most smaller towns, the office didn’t have its own building. Rather, the town hall had renovated a subsection of its rooms to suit the team’s administrative needs. I turned my attention to the wall, where a small, colourful poster was pinned. I’d seen it on the way in, but decided to take care of business before giving it any attention. An ice sculpture of a mare sat inside a red and white tent, beckoning to passersby to play her games. In somewhat less vibrant lettering was the date, given for the weekend after the next, and the declaration of Fetlock Falls Winter Festival. I raised an eyebrow. Ads for out-of-city events weren’t exactly uncommon, but Canterlot, with its sheer size and close proximity, tended to dominate the market. That a small town several hours to the north like Fetlock would bother putting up a poster over here was a bit odd. The door creaked and I turned in time to see a large, green-blue pegasus mare emerge. Her mane alternated between a deep navy and a floral blue-purple, eventually combining to form a long, mish mashed braid. A pair of flight satchels sat on her back, each, bearing a vibrant blue S, adorned with snowflakes at the middle and ends. As the cutie mark drifted through my mind, her name stirred within my memory. I’d only met Blizzard Breeze a couple times and only that much thanks to her and Mahogany being old weather college buddies. She only stopped in occasionally, always in a hurry to reach either Canterlot or Fetlock Falls. By now, I had little doubt as to who’d put that poster up. “Hi, Dusky. Been a while, hasn’t it?” She flashed me a friendly smile. I nodded. “Yeah. Finally sneaking in some personal time?” “Maybe a little.” She prodded her bags with a wing. “I still have some posters to put up. Speaking of which, are you interested in the festival?” “I was thinking about it. Been a little restless lately, so I was actually looking for an excuse to slip out of town for a weekend.” My mind silently added, Because of the laundry list of issues I’d like to forget for a day or two. “Well, there you go. We’ve got a whole carnival set up, plus there’s even this big ice sculpting competition going on.” Blizzard flourished her forehooves. “Both of our inns are almost completely booked.” I blinked, even knowing that inns in small towns aren’t particularly big; I had still clearly underestimated just how much of a buzz this event was generating. “Wow, going all out, aren’t you?” “Yep. Once this puts Fetlock on the map, we should be able to get funding like this every year.” Blizzard grinned widely. Well, that explains the pushiness. Ice sculptures aren’t really my thing, but it was a convenient enough opportunity to break things up a bit. Plus I didn’t really mind showing support for a friend of a friend. “In that case, you can definitely count me in.” “Great." She clapped her forehooves together. "You taking the train?” “I usually fly to these types of things.” “Sure. But if you change your mind, we’ve got group discount rates at the Ponyville station both mornings and same thing for Fetlock at night.” Quickly doing the math in my head, factoring the endurance saved, I guessed that I might be able to squeeze in another hour and a half of time with the festival if I took the train. I’d have to double check to make sure I had enough bits to cover such an indulgence, but it was definitely something to consider. Especially if I were to convince Terra to come with me. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” --- While my part-time schedule made my timing inconsistent, checking in on Terra at her store the day after a night of drinking had become something of a ritual. By the time I’d finished up my conversation with Blizzard and snuck home to inhale a quick tulip sandwich, the day had already reached mid-afternoon. As I approached the store—a small hole-in-the-wall squeezed between a fast food deli and a watch shop—with the warmth of the sun at my back and the cold of the snow crunching beneath my hooves, I recalled our first encounter. It was a day much like the current one, though my younger self was in much more of a hurry. I’d been planning my project, a small wooden chest, for a while. Ironically, it was likely that planning that made me give in so easily to whimsy. That morning, I’d decided I’d done enough design work and that that night was the night to build it. I’d already gotten my hooves on the necessary lumber, but no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find hinges or a hasp of small enough size. The work day was on its last legs and I was about to give up and plan a shopping trip to Canterlot. And then I saw it. Terra’s Knickknacks, a hoof-painted sign read. A wide front window, which barely left room for a door, gave me a pretty good view of the inside. Shelves and bins ran every which way, with only a minimum of floor space to access them from. The bins in the window had the most random of things, from a chair leg to the kind of tiny plastic figure that comes with board games to a steel bracket. Sold on the idea of finding my misfit pieces inside, I’d nosed the door open. While I wouldn’t have described it as well-lit, I could hardly call it dingy, either. I remember trying to pore over each bin and shelf as I sought the store’s counter. The sheer volume and randomness of knickknacks had been staggering. If I had known Pinkie better at the time, I might have asked if she helped stock the store. Despite the general helterskelter organization of Terra’s shop, those dusty bins and shelves had left me with a warm, comfortable feeling. I suppose it was like poking through the back of my dad’s wagon again. I’d almost expected to hear him call out, Dusky, find me that third era griffon throw rug. Terra was never good at hiding her hangovers. While she always put significant effort into smoothing out her coat and mane, the veins spider-webbing over her eyes, as well as the bags underneath, betrayed her. There was a reason she had the counter installed in the furthest corner of the shop. At first, I’d attributed her binging to the stress of being a business owner, but she really just likes whiskey a bit too much. I remember our conversation starting just like any other store banter: greeting, small talk, inquiry. Then she found what I needed in less than a minute, darting here and there among the piles, as though it were a highly-organized inventory. When I’d expressed my amazement, she’d grinned widely and pointed to the toy hammer on her hindquarters; she called it a representation of her ability to find little odds and ends that ponies don’t think much of until they really need it. While my dad worked on a larger scale, it was impossible not to be reminded of him. Terra being Terra, she insisted that I tell her about my planning cutie mark: the pencil-in-gear sitting on my flank. She was rather… amused when I told her that I got it after proving one of my designs: a process that involved repeatedly stabbing myself with a sewing needle. I couldn’t resist talking shop, and neither could Terra. This invariably led to learning that Terra’s parents were also traveling merchants. It was rather liberating, having someone who would understand what I was saying without extensive explanation, or even just being interested in the world at large. While I made plenty of acquaintances during my time attending school in Ponyville, I’ve found that my fellow citizens can be quite… insular, to say the least. She was the sister I never had. And that pretty much sealed our friendship. Shaking the nostalgia from my mind, I pressed toward the shop, which had changed very little over the years; even the weather had barely marred its appearance. I nosed the door open, trotting through the empty shop and taking the shortest route to the counter. Terra looked about as hungover as usual, at least for that point in the day. She slid her romance novel behind one of the bins as I approached. “How’s the day been treating you?” Terra groaned. “It’s been a day, but soon I’ll be able to kick back and relax. Weather work been good?” “Tough. Wild weather’s been giving us a bit of trouble lately. I think I’ll be looking forward to that spa trip too.” I smiled warmly, the rise of my lips fueled by the anticipation of a good back massage. “Spa? Oh, yeah, right, haha…” Glancing off to the side, Terra tapped a hoof against the counter. “I swear, one of these days I’ll come back from one of my trips to see that you’ve found a way to marry whiskey.” Terra stuck out her tongue. “Only if you marry the road f—” The door swung open, crashing into the door bumper hard enough to echo through the store. My muscles tensed as I turned to the newcomer, but quickly found I had little cause for alarm. In walked a pale, purple-coated earth pony filly with a reddish-brown mane. Her hooves were caked in mud to such an extent that I wondered if she’d just raided someone’s garden. “Young lady, don’t you dare track mud in here again! Wipe your hooves!” The hangover's effects were gone, replaced by an ire that suggested Terra might just leap over the counter. The filly jumped and seemed to notice us for the first time. She hastily scraped her hooves across the worn welcome mat. “Y-yes, ma’am!” I looked back at Terra, but her gaze was still fixed on the filly. Terra’s eyes did not leave the filly as she shoved her head into the various bins until finally coming away with a tin bucket. Nor did they stop when she approached the counter and paid for her purchase. It was hard to believe Terra would make such a big deal out of a little bit of mud. I didn’t want to suspect a foal of shoplifting, but that was the only thing I could think of that would merit such an intense stare. Even when the filly joyfully trotted away, bucket in mouth, Terra’s gaze remained. Once the door slid shut, I raised an eyebrow. “You seem a little ornery.” “You would be too if you had to ask her three times not to track mud into your clean shop!” Terra flailed her forelegs. I peered back at the bins and shelves, most of which still had visible layers of dust on or around them. “Clean? Have you seen your shelves lately?” Buckling down, Terra directed the stare at me. “Well, I don’t need more dirt in here.” Yeesh, that hangover must be way worse than she’s letting on. “Sooo… what are you doing next Saturday?” I asked, only too glad to change the subject. “I’m going to check out the Fetlock festival and was wondering if you and Mahogany wanted to come along.” Terra blinked. “Oh, um, I would, but I’ve already got a date with this cute stallion…” “The one from the spa?” I refrained from adding, ‘that made eyes at you for all of two minutes’. “Yep!” She perked up. “See?” I smirked. “You don’t need whiskey to find dates.” “But I like whiskey,” she protested. “You sure do.” Terra drummed her hooves on the counter. “I think Mahogany has to work all weekend again. Say, why don’t you ask that new guy?” “Night Flurry?” I sighed. “Well… I don’t know about him.” “What? Why? What’s wrong?” I found myself counting the specks on a nearby shelf. “I want to give him a chance to be friends. I mean, there must be a reason Mahogany calls him his ‘best bud’. It’s just… it seems like he can’t even hold a proper conversation.” “That’s not good.” Terra frowned a moment before perking up. “But hey, Mahogany got through to him, right?” “Odds of Mahogany having been too drunk to remember how?” I tilted my head. “Uh…” Terra laughed nervously as she glanced out the window. “It’s about time I closed up. Why don’t we just forget about that for now and do that spa thing we were gonna do?”