The day after Spike and his growing number of supporters went through the dossier started out like any other. Spike and Sombra awoke from their individual beds at seven, got cleaned up, and headed back upstairs to face the light of day and fill their bellies.

Surprisingly enough, Lyra was already up when they came upstairs. Although she seemed quite tired, saying that she was trying to adjust her schedule for maximizing time with Bon Bon. She also passed Sombra something once they were all at the dining room table after Spike made breakfast.

It almost seemed like a scroll at first, but upon holding it Sombra found it much too heavy. After removing the rubber band from the middle Sombra unrolled it to see that it was a collection of large sheets of paper, covered with boxed-in articles of printed type. The header at the top of the front page declared it 'THE MORNING SUN', which was apparently Equestria's premier news source.

"It's a newspaper. It's like that guy that used to go around town yelling important stuff in olden times, but quieter." Lyra explained.

"Yeah, him. I bought a subscription for the house after I saw one on Bonny's doorstep yesterday. I figured you could use it to catch up on current events and stuff, and see how normal ponies live or whatever." Lyra finished.

Sombra's first thought was to tell Lyra how surprised he was that she had had a good idea, but decided against it. Spike would likely chastise him for it, and it wouldn't go very far in becoming reformed. Sombra knew the proper thing was to thank Lyra, which he often had trouble doing.

"Thank you. I'm sure this daily 'newspaper' will aid in my adjustment." Sombra thanked Lyra, only somewhat certain of his own sincerity.

"No big deal, Brero. You're a good dude, or at least a good dude in-the-making." Lyra replied before going back to her breakfast.

Sombra ignored his ever annoying nickname, starting in on his own meal while reading the paper.

The main article was about the newest book in the Daring Do series was once again being pushed back by the author. Sombra knew nothing about the series, but it was apparently the longest running series of fantasy novels in centuries, as well as the best-selling, and most-loved.

There were several pieces Sombra took an interest in, including an article about why the Grand Galloping Gala, the social event of the year had been pushed to early fall instead of late summer. Apparently someone on the royal planning committee forgot to mail the invitations, resulting in her being fired by the committee head.

According to the paper the party this year would be especially grand to make up for the mistakes on their part.

Sombra decided to read the rest later, as he and the others had already finished eating. Sombra downed the rest of his coffee, allowing Spike to clear the table. As Sombra headed back through the kitchen he found Peewee sitting on the counter, pecking away at a saucer with a pile of seed atop it.

Sombra had briefly met the bird the day before, as it slept perched atop Spike's comb during their naps and watched them play chess afterwards. Peewee was rather well behaved, leaving Sombra with no grievances against him. Sombra merely stopped to watch the bird eat for a time, wondering exactly how powerful magical tears could be.

Sombra could see a wet spot below Peewee's eye, meaning Spike must have already received today's dosage as he fed Peewee.

Sombra eventually tired of merely standing around and instead made his way to the living room. Spike was sitting on the couch, reading a book on the mechanics of flying. There was a serious expression on his face, telling Sombra that it was best not to disturb him.

Sombra decided now would be as good a time as any to peruse the rest of the information the newspaper had to offer, waiting for something else to happen.

Sombra looked through the arts and culture section, finding little of any interest to him. Sombra immediately accepted that he didn't have much of a creative side, finding that his reality was likely stranger than anything the morning paper would have to offer.

Sombra paused when he got to the obituaries, wondering what it was like to lose someone.

It was likely still a far off thing for Sombra to worry about, being as everyone he knew was either relatively young or essentially immortal. Still, mortality was something of an intangible concept for Sombra, having cheated death before, and having no memories of ever seeing anyone die with his own eyes. Sombra couldn't even count the diamond dog that turned to dust, as he had been fading in and out of consciousness by then.

Sombra briefly entertained the idea of asking Spike or one of Spike's friends about it, but something told him it wasn't the easiest subject to breach with someone you haven't known for very long. Luckily, Sombra was pulled from his ethical dilemma when Spike lay the book down on the coffee table and got up from his seat on the couch.

Sombra looked Spike over somewhat skeptically, all the while remembering his condition two days ago.

"Are you entirely sure that is a good idea? Zecora told you it would likely be two weeks before you'd be airborne. It has been all of a day and a half, and two magical bird tears." Sombra pointed out.

Spike seemed to take Sombra's council into consideration, but soon unfolded his wings experimentally. The aches and pains of the previous day were almost completely gone, almost like they hadn't been so terrible just the other day. Spike even wiggled the little fingers atop each of his wings, finding they too seemed relatively fine.

"I've only got five days to learn how to fly before we leave for Farrier's Gulch. We'll spend the majority of day six on the train, then on day seven we head out into the desert. Day eight is our twenty four hour window to get the gem from the temple.

Sombra followed Spike outside, even though he was still rather skeptical toward Spike's preparedness.

After a few moments of wing-stretches, Spike was ready to see if he could actually get off the ground.

Spike got a hundred feet or so away from the house in case of crashes, and realized he wasn't entirely sure where to begin. Spike assumed that his instincts would tell him what to do in the air, but precisely how to get airborne was rather vague.

Spike began by simply flapping his wings, trying to get in the air with sheer wing-power alone.

Spike barely got six inches off the ground using only his wings, causing him to cease flapping and land back down with a heavy thud.

"Okay, that really hurt. I'm just way too heavy to use just my wings as is. There's gotta be some kind of trick to this." Spike told himself.

Spike decided to get himself flapping slowly, and once he had a steady rate going he pretended to pounce, kicking off the ground.

The jump succeeded in getting him a good five feet off the ground, and Spike even managed to maintain his altitude for a grand total of around twenty seconds in which Spike began drifting down lazily.

Spike let out a loud sigh of discontentment as his claws hit the ground again. Being unable to fly was essentially dooming everyone, and the thought of failure was already weighing heavily on Spike's mind.

Spike continued on for an hour and a half before taking a break. In that time Spike hadn't made an progress, and in trying to gain some elevation succeeded in accidentally forcing a tree to buckle under his weight. Other than that, nothing remarkable came out of the time spent.

Sombra could feel the stress Spike was giving off involuntarily and began to empathize with him. Sombra merely didn't know exactly how to express what his new level of emotional understanding let him know. Sombra decided the best course of action would be to play it by ear in offering advice.

"I believe social protocols would insist I try and motivate you in this endeavor, Spike. Unfortunately I think we both happen to be falling short of any real confidence in you successfully taking flight today. I suggest you consult Zecora." Sombra commented from the sidelines.

Spike grumbled a little, but he couldn't fault Sombra for being right or telling the truth.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm not real confident right now either. I should try and get Zecora to come over. Luna said she knows about Peewee healing me and the timetables getting moved way up." Spike suggested, Sombra nodding in agreement.

Spike had a hastily written missive, which he sent off to Zecora with a small burst of flames. The magical ash whisked itself away, off to meet the striped shaman of the Everfree.

They didn't need to wait long, as Zecora sent a reply instead of coming in person. Spike belched it out just two or three minutes later.

Spike quickly unrolled the scroll, hoping that Zecora had at least given him advice or acknowledgement that she would come to his aid. Upon reading it however, Spike's hopes were immediately dashed.

I have potions for your trip on the brew, thus I am unable to come help you.

Do your best to master flight, and tomorrow I will arrive to shed some light.

"Fan-friggin-tastic. We're on our own for the day." Spike griped before flat out incinerating the letter in his claw with fire magic.

Sombra was a tad disheartened by the news, but luckily being powerless hadn't robbed him of any of his intellect.

"You could always ask some of your acquaintances that already know how to fly. Given the fact that you know a fair number of people I assume many of them are gifted with wings. Your mother, or Scootaloo for instance." Sombra suggested, seeing Spike getting very frustrated with himself.

Spike momentarily retreated into the house and retrieved a bag full of something that clacked around like ceramics or porcelain. Spike opened the bag to allow Sombra a look.

The bag was full of enormous fangs, each easily the size of a kitchen knife or larger.

"This is full set of one of the hell hound's head's fangs. I gave most of the other head's to Zecora for potions, kept one for myself, gave one to Lyra as a souvenir, and sent one to mom. I'm gonna sell the rest in town to a guy I know. They're worth a lot. Since we're going into town I figured now would be a good time." Spike explained.

Spike wished to trade the fangs for money before finding one of his flying companions, to which Sombra didn't object.

Spike led Sombra to a large, but unimpressive-looking shop setting directly between the normal part of town and the slums.

The sign for the store looked old and worn, seemingly intentionally. The building itself seemed relatively new, but was a dull gray that did nothing to draw your attention to it. If you didn't know to look for it you probably wouldn't pay the place any mind. Instead of words, the sign merely had a stylized representation of a mortar and pestle.

In the front window of the shop was a large assortment of jars, each filled with various unsettling things floating in colorful liquids. There were also all kinds of masks and various trinkets Sombra couldn't name. Very little else could be seen through the window, telling passerby's that the shop was poorly lit.

Spike balled his fist and knocked on the wall of the shop, not wanting to break the door.

"Are you certain that whoever owns this place is in? I don't even see a light on inside, or business hours posted anywhere." Sombra asked uncertainly.

Sure enough, not three seconds after Spike assured Sombra the store was occupied the front door swung open.

A white zebra with black stripes poked his head out to see Spike and Sombra. He was a tad taller than an ordinary pony but he was also much thinner, to the point it looked as if he wasn't in the practice of eating regularly.

He wore a number of silver bracelets on one leg, and a single, larger bracelet with a lock motif on the other. There were extremely dark purple bags under his eyes, and he was quick to shield his eyes from the sun. There were half-moon spectacles on his nose that seemed a bit too far down.

Sombra felt that Spike wasn't kidding when he said the owner never left the store when he had taken the stallion's appearance in fully.

The stallion looked Spike over, seeming a tad jittery. However, to Sombra's surprise he seemed thoroughly more uneasy seeing Sombra than he did Spike. Sombra found it odd, but he doubted he knew who Sombra actually was.

"Come inside. I'd rather not be out here longer than I have to." The stallion told them before heading in again.

Sombra entered the building cautiously, and soon after Spike stuck his head through the doorway with the bag of fangs resting on his snout. Spike's shoulders were far too broad to enter the pony-sized door any further, but Spike seemed fine with keeping himself like that.

Sombra looked around the shop, seeing a table in one corner with a full chemistry set, and a mortar and pestle.

The storefront had a long counter top that stretched the majority of the room, and behind it were seemingly hundreds of little drawers built into the wall.

There were a number of plants and herbs in pots along one wall under sun lamps with a complex system of tubes running water to each, depending on the will of a valve behind the counter. On the wall opposite the counter was an Athenor furnace, and a door with a sign reading: Staff Only.

There were around seven bookcases on the wall opposite the plants, each filled with worn texts, leather-bound tomes, and loose scrolls. Various macabre nick-knacks or seemingly mystic objects sat atop the edges of the counter, even atop the cash register. The room was very disorderly, but in a manageable, almost charming way. It was the very definition of controlled chaos, making Sombra think Discord would have felt right at home.

The entire store was dimly lit by overhead lanterns hanging from the ceiling, each producing a glimmer of almost eerie blue fire. The smell of the shop was something like musty old books, flowers, and chemicals.

Once behind the counter the zebra stallion seemed to loose some of the tension he had gained upon seeing Spike and Sombra. Even more so when he locked the passage barring segment between the wall and the counter in place.

"Good day, Spike. I assume that you've found something of value for me, considering I wasn't expecting your usual shipment of alchemical components from the Everfree for another three weeks." The stallion greeted Spike, almost ignoring Sombra's presence entirely.

Sombra could tell that the stallion was keeping watch of him from the corner of his eye though.

"Indeed I do, Earl. But first I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Sombra. He's staying with me while he deals with some... uh, inner demons." Spike replied, motioning to Sombra, getting Earl's attention.

Sombra rolled his eyes at the double meaning of the word, but at that instant it occurred to Sombra that Earl had some inner demons of his own. Though hopefully more of the figurative type.

Earl looked Sombra over for a moment, and Sombra noticed a much more relaxed demeanor come over Earl. After a moment, the zebra smiled and offered Sombra his hoof.

"Greetings, Sombra. Welcome to Erlenmeyer Flask's Apothecary, Pharmacy, and Potion Emporium. I'm Erlenmeyer Flask of course, though Spike has taken to calling me Earl. I have something of an understanding of inner demons myself, and I wish you the best of luck." Earl greeted Sombra.

Sombra could only now see Earl's cutie mark, an Alembic, a type of glassware used in alchemy and chemistry.

"Earl, I've... Let's say, happened upon some genuine hell hound fangs. I figured you might wanna buy them. In this bag here there's a complete set. forty-two fangs, all for you." Spike advertized.

Earl eagerly reached over the counter and grabbed the bag from Spike's snout and set it on the counter-top. Earl opened the bag and began laying them out on the counter to examine them, even going so far as to put on a loupe like he was a jeweler inspecting the quality of a precious jewel.

After laying them out in the configuration they would have been in the actual jaw, Earl took one of the canine's canines and evaluated it once more. Lastly, Earl took the canine, brought it up to his mouth, and licked it briefly. Much to Sombra's disgust.

"Brimstone aftertaste. These are genuine, and fresh. I'd say they were plucked not much more than a week ago. The quality is also stunning, the hell hound must have been very old, and very powerful.

"I'd value this set at around fifteen thousand bits in total. Likely much more if you auctioned them off in Canterlot, they've been off the market for nearly a century." Earl concluded.

Spike whistled, amazed that the fangs were so valuable. For a moment Spike was silent, but soon turned his focus back to Earl.

"Tell you what, Earl. I'll give you the whole lot of 'em for five thousand bits. I'd be happier knowing they're going to a pony who can use them to their utmost potential." Spike generously offered.

Earl nodded his head in agreement very quickly before diving down behind the counter.

After a few minutes of rustling behind the counter Earl reappeared with a very large, round bottle of a clear, amber liquid with a cobra sitting upright within it. Next, Earl produced a checkbook from behind the counter and quickly wrote out a check for Spike.

"You are surely the most generous dragon on the planet, Spike! It almost makes me want to go out into the world to see if there are other people like you. ...Almost. But or now, I have a whole lot of serious potion-making to do, so I'm going to close up. As a special thank you, I'd like you to have this though. It's medicinal snake-whiskey from the far east, not easy to come by in Equestria." Earl told Spike happily as placed the check on the counter and slid it in Sombra's direction.

Spike's arm soon replaced his head and went directly for the bottle of snake-whiskey. As soon as Spike had what he came for Sombra followed Spike's arm out the door with Earl a safe distance behind them.

"Pleasure doing business with you as always, Spike. Nice to meet you Sombra, feel free to drop in any time. Though I suspect I will be closed for at least a week while I experiment." Earl thanked them before shutting the door with the click of multiple locks heard soon after.

Sombra stared at the door for a bit, not entirely certain what to think of the encounter. Earl had seemed a gifted mind, even with his quirks.

"So, exactly what is wrong with this Earl character? He seemed nice enough, if a little nervous." Sombra asked Spike.

"He's got Sociophobia, Agoraphobia, and he's got terrible insomnia. He has nervous breakdown if forced into overly social situations, if he's away from his shop, and he's prone to depression and is kinda paranoid. Earl even enchanted his shop so that only trustworthy people will even notice it exists, or people in dire need of medicine.

"He's a genius when it comes to alchemy, potions, pharmacology, and a lot of pseudo-magical sciences. I check on him every now and again, but he's usually functioning at about the level you saw just now. He keeps the shop open because he thinks he'll eventually be able to develop a cure for his mental problems, and I really hope he does. Everybody deserves to be happy, and Earl could help a lot of people." Spike explained.

Sombra was silent as a wave of feeling resonated through his chest. Not the normal feelings he had when something happened with Spike, something dull. A sad resonance of sympathy, and of empathy.

Despite being immortal Sombra often felt vulnerable and even nervous if he was in public without his armor, like now. The only real reason he felt safe at the moment was because he was with Spike who was all but invincible by everyday standards. Sombra knew it was nonsense, but at the same time he knew he needed the armor for some reason.

Sombra briefly thought he should be happy he was relating to another person, but it seemed a hollow victory given the circumstances.

"I feel... Sad? I had never considered the plight of the average pony." Sombra asked uncertainly, and almost guiltily.

"It's good that you can share what your feeling, but try not to think about the negatives so much. You're getting better all the time, and hopefully things will just keep getting better. You've got a long future ahead of you. We both do. Average life will take a little work, but you'll make it." Spike attempted to console.

Sombra's chest felt heavy as he received Spike's praise. Almost as if some of the void was trying to fill itself. Though for some reason Sombra deigned not to inform Spike. Sombra still didn't fully comprehend the feeling, and Sombra knew for certain it couldn't be what he had first thought it was.

Spike patted Sombra on the back reassuringly once more, and then the pair headed into the slums to find another of Spike's friends.

Spike reasoned that ponies wings are always too small for them to fly properly, so their magic compensates. A griffon has no passive wing magic, so one might be able to tell Spike something more useful about unaided flight. Thankfully, Spike knew just the griffon to talk too.

At it's heart was a large collection of stalls with the center most one bearing a sign reading: Treasure's of Griffonstone. There were all manner of goods, trinkets, toys, and whatever else could strike one's fancy. Many of the items were in locked glass-top cases. Knives, jewellery, electronics, and other expensive things customers couldn't be trusted to handle without paying first.

Sitting at the head of the operation was a female griffon just a bit larger than the average pony. She had purple markings around her eyes, and the feathers that acted as bangs were also tinted purple at the tips. On her left eyebrow was a set of two silver rings, and Sombra noticed a gold wedding band on the middle talon of her right claw.

Sombra could tell at a glance that she was queen of the roost, so to speak. The entire market was under her confident gaze, and nothing slipped past her attention. Especially not a large purple dragon walking into her place of business with a smile on his face.

"Yo, Scales! Good to see you finally got your frequent flier's card. Heard you roaring all the way over here, too." The griffon greeted, alarming a few of her patrons in the process.

Gilda raised an interested brow at the statement, noticing Sombra sticking to Spike's side. She looked him over briefly, but whatever she was thinking was kept to herself. Her practiced look of dominance and cold indifference that deterred shoplifters and the like gave away little of Gilda's emotions.

Spike proceeded to face-claw at the question, obviously hoping she would have known the answer.

"This, is Sombra. I'm absolutely positive Mom went around telling everyone about what's going on." Spike complained.

"Oh yeah. Shy said your ma dropped in the other day. That was the night I spent in Griffonstone to restock. I got back real early the next morning, Shy said something about some kinda world-ending disaster you're taking care of. I dunno. I try and stay out of all that.

"We got enough on our plate between Shy's vet job, my import business here, and building onto the house to get ready for the kids. We finally put in the papers, and we're waiting for approval. Shouldn't be hard, considering Fluttershy's a national hero." Gilda explained.

Gilda let her mask slip a little as she spoke, a happy, but very tired look gracing her face. Spike smiled much wider than before, apparently very eager to hear more.

"So, two kids at once for the moms-to-be. I'm happy for you. Fluttershy's always been the motherly type, and I now you're eager to start a family. I'll be sure to keep you out of all the world-ending stuff, but I was hoping you could maybe give me some flight tips." Spike requested.

"Alright then, let's see what we've got to work with then, Scales. Spread 'em." Gilda ordered, putting her defenses back up.

Spike obediently spread his wings, nearly knocking a passing stallion off his hooves by accident. The stallion turned to Spike angrily, but upon seeing Spike he thought better of it and went on his way. Albeit much faster than before.

Gilda whistled in an impressed way, looking over Spike's glorious wingspan. She briefly looked back to her own wings, rustling them uncomfortably. Sombra was beginning to notice a pattern of fliers being envious of Spike, but continued his silent strategy since Gilda wouldn't likely appreciate a comment about wing-envy.

"You're doin' somethin' wrong if you can't get off the ground with these babies. You could slap these things on an elephant, and it'd be in the air before you knew it. I don't think I can help ya, Spike." Gilda told Spike plainly, not even thinking of sugarcoating it.

Gilda thought on it for a moment, and just as Spike looked like he was about to scream in frustration an idea came to her.

"What about Luna's bat-ponies? They've got wings kinda like yours. Hit one of them up. I know you used to roll with some of them." Gilda suggested.

"That's a good idea. I know where the thestrals that stay up late hang out during the day. If I'm lucky I can catch one or two" Spike resolved.

Sombra and Spike bid Gilda farewell, likely at the right time as Gilda soon thereafter pounced a shoplifter. Sombra didn't really care to see a less than innocent get roughed up, and if Spike was to meet up with his nocturnal friends they would need to hurry.

After traversing two blocks from Gilda's shop, traveling down a horrible-smelling and dark alleyway, past a vacant lot with police-tape cordoning it off, and down another equally disgusting alley, Spike and Sombra found themselves in front of a seemingly abandoned warehouse covered in graffiti.

Despite the seedy nature of the area, Spike walked around like it was a public park. Sombra instinctively stuck close, thinking that the unsavory characters in the area wouldn't dare try to mess with Spike if they had any semblance of a brain in their heads. Even still, Sombra wished that his armor hadn't gotten mangled and dented in the orthros attack.

Spike reached out an arm and beat on the side of the wall nearest to the large, metal, garage-style door.

Sombra noted he did so in pattern: Three knocks, a pause, three more knocks, another pause, and finally four more knocks in rapid succession.

"That's an old password, and we're closed. We're only open til noon. No more partying until midnight, you know the drill."

A few seconds later, the metal door began sliding up. It took a moment, but a thestral came into view. He was a dingy-brown color, with bleached white mane and tail, streaked with remarkably dark black.

His mane covered one of his red eyes, and the stallion was wearing a strange black coat with many silver buttons and studs. Even though it had to be at least eighty degrees outside. Sombra noted a number of piercings in his ears, and he even had two silver rings around either of the sharp points on the backside of either of his bat-like wings.

"Don't call me that! My name is Night-Pain! Only my stupid parents call me that!" The thestral whined.

"Yeah well, a fire-breathing dragon can call anyone anything he pleases, Biscuit." Spike retorted, craning his neck down to meet the thestral in the eye.

The thestral stumbled backward in surprise, due to a failed attempt to flee. Spike laughed, picking Biscuit up in one claw and setting him upright again.

"Good to see you haven't changed a lot in the last few years. Though I think your name was Shadow-Wing or something at the time." Spike told the stallion smugly.

"Aw man, I thought I was gonna get munched. It's been forever since you raved it up with us Spike, but you're kinda late." Biscuit told Spike.

Spike immediately looked guilty, running his claw over some of the spines on the back of his neck.

"I don't really fit the dance floor too well anymore. I'd love to party with you guys, but there's some, uh... government stuff I gotta take care of. For my mom, ya know?" Spike responded awkwardly.

"If this is about the electric bill being late, I sent it in yesterday. Please don't repo my club, Spike. I live in the place." Biscuit pleaded.

"No, no. I need to travel, but I'm not used to my wings yet. I was hoping to get some tips from you since your wings and mine look sorta similar." Spike explained.

Biscuit calmed down, and for the first time noticed that Spike had grown wings in addition to being much larger than before. Biscuit stretched out his own wings as Spike did his, and other than Biscuit suddenly developing an inferiority complex, he noticed something else about Spike's wings.

Spike extended his wings, slowly flapping and letting the Biscuit see every motion. After a minute of demonstrative flapping, Biscuit gave him a hoof motion to stop.

"They have an extra arm-like bend, meaning way different range of motion. Yours are like an actual bat's. I don't think I can help ya. Maybe you should go look at some actual bats or something." Biscuit suggested.

Spike lifted his head into the sky and groaned loudly, utterly annoyed beyond belief.

Spike looked around for anything disposable, finding an old, rusty oil drum within arms reach. Spike grabbed it, and to Biscuit's abject horror crushed it into a ball in a matter of seconds. Once the drum was reduced to a fraction of it's original size, Spike popped the sphere into his mouth and chewed it to bits in no time flat.

"Sorry about that. *huff* I skipped lunch, and we've been running around all damned day asking fliers for tips. I must have low blood sugar. I'm gonna go get something to eat, good talking to you, Biscuit." Spike apologized.

Spike momentarily swapped the whiskey bottle to his hand, picking Sombra up with his tail and placing him between his wings. Spike wanted to get something to eat quickly, lest he do anything else he'd regret, and he could walk faster without letting Sombra set the pace. Once the whiskey was back in the grasp of Spike's tail they set out again, leaving behind a very surprised and confused Biscuit.

"That was mildly entertaining. Next time, please warn me before you're going to lift me into the air if you could." Sombra said to Spike as they got moving.

"Yeah sorry. I've been low on energy since my wings came in, and mixed with hunger and annoyance I'm a tad snippy apparently. We're gonna cash that check, and then you, are treating me to lunch my friend." Spike replied as he walked through the slums at a much faster pace than before.

"Well duh. I already used mine, didn't I? I got one head, so you're entitled to the other. The whole five-grand is yours, minus lunch. We can go on a shopping spree after lunch, buy some fancy coffee, or capes, or whatever else you're into. A stallion needs some things to call his own, and you're entitled to the same." Spike replied, momentarily looking back at Sombra.

Sombra didn't even pretend that having his own things didn't sound ideal. A rare, full-force smile graced his muzzle.

"Fine then, let's make haste to an eatery that serves cheap, filling, foods. I read something in the paper about a new carnivore-option restaurant opening today. There is something called a cheeseburger, that is supposedly to die for." Sombra declared.

"A burger it is. Though on second thought, I'll pay my way. Wouldn't wanna make you spend your cash on fifty quarter-pounders with cheese." Spike decided.

With very little warning, Spike kicked into high gear. They went as fast as it was possible without causing panic in the streets. Sombra wouldn't speak of it out loud, but that day was probably his favorite thus far. Being out and about with his best friend.

Spike's Shadow

by DraconequusMaximus

Flying?