Spitfire carefully shuffled through the darkness. Her fiery mane and gold coat catching on few stray beams of moonlight from outside. Her wings were nervously scrunched up on her back- if she were to make the slightest noise, even the drop of a feather, it would be all over.
Her bag was tremendously heavy, but what was in there was all she would have to sustain her for many moons. Nervousness hung from every breath she took until made it to the door. She paused. Am I really sure I want to do this? Running away was a huge decision, and if she was not tactful, this could be the beginning of the nearby end for her. She forced herself to swallow a large breath. No, they have already made my mind up for me.
She thought she heard shuffling in the kitchen and jumped, she had already been caught and she knew it. It was stupid of her to think this would have worked. Fear shot through her small body as she looked around for somewhere to hide, but she would be clearly visible no matter where she went. Hopelessness trickled through her as she bowed in silent acceptance.
However, nopony came to scold her for being out of bed and questioning her bag that was filled to the brim. Her nerves still betrayed her however, she continued to stand rooted to the stop for longer than appropriate. Her burnt umber eyes solemnly scanned around once more. A hallow loneliness wheeled up inside her chest, nopony even realized she had been pushed this far. Burning up the last amount of courage she had, she opened the door.
The fragrant autum grass mingled with the scent of the days previous rain soothed her. The ivory moon hung high in the sky, casting its gentle light down upon the world. The outline of Nightmare Moon was emblazoned across it-she shivered at the thought that perhaps she could see the lonely and helpless filly below and gulped. It is just an Old Mare's Tale, she reminded herself. Besides, it was a ridiculous and unbelievable story anyway- some ponies swore the a rabbit or something entirely different.
She looked back on the only home she had ever known. A very plain, wooded country side home on the edge of farmlands. She shook her head at the thought that she would be tormented with memories from this place for many moons to come. Forcing herself to trot away from her now past life, tears began to cloud her vision. Come on, you're tougher than this, she cursed to herself, now breaking into a gallop.
She looked up at the clouds in the sky and felt a sting of helplessness. CloudsDale, where her mother lived. She was much too busy to set aside time to see her daughter though. She was lucky if she even got to see her for Hearths Warming Eve. She still had the doll they had made together for it all those years ago safely tucked in her bad, unwilling to seperate with that happy memory.
If only my wings weren't useless! She thought hopelessly. They had not become strong enough to do anything more than lift her off the ground- embarrassing really at this age. It was a widely accepted fact that she would likely never fly, nor be a strong flier at any point in her life time.
A filly your age should have been flying a long time ago! Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you got your cutiemark in uselessness! Though a part of her new some of the teasing was dumb, it struck a chord deep within her. The malicious teasing she received in school only motivated her further to do this. Creating a surge of energy that carried her until dawn.
Breathless, exhausted and sore, she had made it to Appleosa. It was only a short distance away town-wise from where her and her aunt and father lived, but this would do for now.
Shyly tracking in dry dirt, she entered the small motel. She gulped wondering if they would even let her stay without an adult pony in sight- though she had heard they couldn't deny a paying customer, regardless of age. The chestnut stallion at the counter hadn't noticed her at first; but when he did, his sage eyes pierced through her with suspicion. His black mane was stylishly pushed to the side, though it lost some of its luster when he lowered his head to listen to her.
Spitfire felt like she knew this pony from somewhere, but could not place her hoof on where. Before she opened her mouth to speak he asked in the native drawl, "Where's your Pa, young filly?"
Spitfire was taken aback, "Oh, um..." she panicked, "He-he will be along. He asked me to pick out a room for the nigh- I mean day."
The stallion's face was traced with disbelief. "If you expect me to believe that lie then I truthfully pity you. Stay right there, I am going to send a message to him right now where you are at, you know he is worried sick. We'll get you home shortly."
Spitfire rolled her eyes. Her father would be just about indifferent to this. Just as soon as the stallion called for someone to watch after her, she exploded out of the door. "Young filly get back here!" he seethed as he struggled to gather his confused comrades.
Spitfire was half elated at her escape, and horrified she allowed herself to be spotted so quickly. She galloped through the town until she met its end. Her muscles screamed at her in agony and she felt her body attempting to collapse her into sleep that was well over due. Just a little bit longer. She kept telling herself as she pushed forward. Noon had already arrived when she finally collapsed behind a bush. Appleosa was still nearby but she could see a good portion of the town.
The little vegetation that grew around here clung its roots as close to the river as it could. Spitfire plunged her muzzle into the water a few times, taking elongated breaths after emerging each time. She collected some of it into her water cantine she had brought with her, and searched her bag for the little food she had brought. Well, you've survived day one, that's an accomplishment. Her bright red sweater was now soaked in her own sweat and was caked with dirt. She quickly tugged it off and let sleep overtake her body.
* * *
Soarin was a whiny, sensitive sort of colt. "But mom!" he said detestingly, "I don't want to go to flight camp!"
Whirlbreeze turned around and sighed, "Look, I know you don't want to, but I think it will be good for you, okay? Besides, it will keep you busy and you well know you are a gifted flyer."
Airily Soarin remarked, "Well that is true. It would give me time to really show what I've got!" He dramatically jumped into the air and did a half hearted flip in the air. "Or something like that." he shyly said when his mother looked at him quizzically.
"You may take after me appearance wise, but you are your daddy's son all the way."
Soarin giggled and snarkily remarked, "I'd sure hope so! Dad is like the coolest pony in all of Equestria! I mean-" his mother first gave him an extreme look, before rolling her eyes.
"Well, yes, he is pretty cool. You don't get to be a Wonderbolt reserve without some skill. You defiantly have your fathers eyes though..." she added the last part with a tinge of sorrow, her purple eyes now looking away from him.
Soarin felt guilty for bringing him up. "B-but he isn't really the nicest pony I guess so maybe he isn't so cool."
Whirlbreeze chuckled as she grabbed him with one of her wings for a hug. "You're allowed to admire him if that is what you want," she said, "But I would like it if we kept talking about him to a minimum though, and besides, next weekend you get to go visit him anyway."
Soarin jumped ecstatically in the air. "Thanks mom!" he said, and gleefully attempted to fly off elsewhere. She flew after him. "You're still going to flight camp though." Soarin allowed himself to gently glide to the ground as a crescendo of "But why mom? Do I really have to?" filled the air.
* * *
Fleetfoot never understood her name, or her parents for that matter. They were just, sickeningly happy. She was the perfect little mixture of them both. Inheriting her moms blue coat and mane texture, while she had her fathers mane color and bright garnet eyes. She should be a very happy filly. She was given constant praise and admiration for her high marks in school and her recognition as an "aspiring flier"- which meant she was average at best though they didn't want her to notice.
She meant the world to her parents and they meant the world to her, it was just...something wasn't right. Things hadn't been right for a little while now, and she couldn't place her hoof on why that was. Life seemed too comfortable and unchallenging to her. Try as she may, she had never made a true friend in CloudsDale all of these years.
It was time for a change, she knew that. Junior Speedsters Flight Camp was coming up very soon, and she knew her parents would be bursting through her door any day as they knew- or thought she would be excited. It was only a time killer to her, she wasn't even sure if she truly even wanted to go. Being forced into socializing with all of those uninteresting, egotistical and unintelligible colts and fillies, it would be an awful time for sure. Fleetfoot sighed as she went outside and sat on the edge of a cloud, watching the sunset form. She had always wished her parents had another foal for her to play with and teach them the ropes- and so they wouldn't be so obsessive over just one filly.
She saw another cloud not very far away and decided to see if she could jump to it without using her wings. Her parents had taken her to Appleosa recently to see the rodeo and had admired how much power earth ponies could pack into one jump. It had been a dreadful time there other than that, her mother had gotten so excited for one act in particular her wing had dislodged Fleetfoot's cotton candy from her hooves and has landed in the expertly groomed mane of a opulent stallion.
She tightly tucked in her wings as she prepared for her jump. An eagerness and shurefullness filled her as she began her jump, barley managing to land on the cloud as she pulled herself onto it. She begun to unfurl her wing to fly back to her house, when she noticed another cloud farther and slightly below her. She stared at it for a moment before deciding to attempt another jump- and she regretted it shortly afterwards.
Only one front hoof made contact with the cloud. She flipped over once in the air, then twice. She tried furiously flapped her wings to stop herself- however she pulled herself out of the spin at an unoptimal time. Causing her to rocket to the ground faster- the thrust she had created was difficult to pull out of, a scream for help was wrung out of her. As she attempted to make a turn, she clipped a wing on a tree branch, crying out in pain and hopelessness. The branches prodded and jabbed at her painfully as she fell through them. Evening had already begun to grace the sky with a coral pink, though she could clearly see her home floating away in the distance.
"No, no, no!" Fleetfoot sobbed, feebly getting up and attempting to trot in the direction of CloudsDale. Her hooves slapping against the gritty dust, creating wispy swirls behind her. She wildly flapped her wings in an attempt to become airborne, causing searing pain to shoot through her back from the wing she had clipped upon her decent. She let out a sob and cursed at her stupidity.
A bush behind her stirred. Gasping as she turned around, her heart already wildly beating from eveything. It couldn't be a timberwolf, they only formed in deeply forested areas, but Equestria was filled with all sorts of creatures that could gobble up a filly like herself in one bite. Fleetfoot tried to remain calm and see what creature it was first before panicking.
She sighed a breath of relief when she saw a golden pony muzzle peek out from behind the bush, along with a flamey orange mane. The two stared at one another for a few moments, before the mare broke into a gallop. "W-wait!" Fleetfoot said, running after her. "It's not safe out here! Are you lost?"
The filly slowed down her pace until she turned around and aggressively looked at her, before letting her suspicion fall as she sized Fleetfoot up. "Did they send you out to come looking for me? I mean, that wouldn't make much sense but..."
Fleetfoot slowly inched over to her. "No, I fell down from CloudsDale like a hoofbrain and well..." tears wheeled up in her eyes once more.
The filly sighed, "So it looks like I should patch your wing up then, my name's Spitfire by the way." Spitfire pulled out a first aid kit from her bag and motioned Fleetfoot to draw her injured wing near to her. "Luckily I have scrapped myself up that I know how to do that."
"What are you doing out here?" Fleetfoot boldly questioned. "It is just, well, plain stupid to be out here at night alone! Unless you are running away...?"
Spitfire rolled her eyes, "You figured me out. I can walk you into town and we will go our separate ways." Fleetfoot pulled her wing away from her and grimaced at the pain that came from it. "Hey!" Spitfire exclaimed.
"I am not leaving you alone out here!" Fleetfoot said.
"And I am not going back!" Spitfire spat.
The two angrily scrunched up their muzzles and seethingly eyed each other for a moment. "Fine. Then you have a traveling buddy." Fleetfoot said, crossing her front legs.
"What? No, absolutely not. That means I have twice the chance to be caught-"
"And twice the chance to survive out here. Besides, I have been looking for a change of pace anyway- I just want to head into town before we leave for good, if that is alright." Spitfire stared dumbfounded at her new companion.
"You're not going to take no for an answer, and you will tell somepony that I am out here if I don't let you do this, aren't you?" Fleetfoot smugly nodded. "Ugh, fine, but hurry up with it."
Fleetfoot smiled at her as she galloped into town, and left a note on a family friend's porch. It was on a newspaper she had found and the words were in soot from a fire, but she thought it would do. She just hoped the Spitfire was still there when she returned. She frowned when she couldn't find her when she got back however. She stopped her front hooves on the ground as she began to make her way back.
"Aren't you coming along?" Spitfire asked from the darkness, now with a bottle full of fireflies. A swarm of them had begun to gather over the river that Fleetfoot hadn't quite noticed before.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" Fleetfoot retorted.