//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: Upside Down // Story: Wild Sky Yonder // by Mysecsha //------------------------------// Chapter 10: Upside Down         Finished.         Spitfire double-checked the straps on the five packs at the center of the former campsite. It had taken her far longer than expected, but she had finally managed to break camp. The captain, noting her troubling ineptitude with the tents and bedrolls the previous day, had ordered her to do so unassisted while Soarin’ scared up some breakfast and Wedge planned the day’s route, with Red’s help. Aurora herself was using her legendary speed to deliver news of Willowbrook back to Camp Solar personally.         Having secured and re-secured the packs, Spitfire sat back and enjoyed the satisfaction of a job well done. Sure, she’d put a tent hook through her uniform not once, but twice (she’d then removed it, lest she damage it further). And yes, she had accidentally put a gravity blade through a bedroll, but she’d taken the blades off after that and swapped the damaged roll with her own. No harm, no foul.         She heard somepony approaching and knew it was Soarin’ without looking. Her senses were sharp, and his hoofbeats distinctive. He ambled up alongside her and set down a large canvas bag filled to bursting with oblong blue berries. “Brought you somethin’!”         She gave him a playful jab in the shoulder. “Yeah, the sack that our tent goes in! I needed that, you know!”         Soarin’ chuckled. “Yup, brought you a tent sack for breakfast. Berries for everyone else, tent sack for you. Only the best for my wingmate.”         She pouted at him.         “Nope. You hit me. My feelings are hurt, and so’s my shoulder. No berries for you.”         She added a slight tremble to her lip. He laughed.         “Been getting lessons from Red?”         Spitfire struggled to keep from grinning. “Don’t make me bat my eyes at you. I’ll do it! Don’t think I won’t!”         He gestured that she was welcome to hit him with her best shot. She pursed her lips and gave him the saddest eyes she could manage, then fluttered her eyelashes at him. He fell to the ground laughing. “Okay, you win. Have some.” “Hurray!” She really was hungry, and she fell on the meal with enthusiasm. The berries were plump, with a thin blue skin and a deep violet-red interior, like blueberries, but the wrong shape and flavor.         “Say, these are pretty good. What are they?”         Soarin’ rolled over and stood. “They’re- well, they’re- that is, they’re... blue?” He shrugged.         Spitfire’s eyes widened. “Oh great, so I’m stuffing my face with something and neither of us knows whether it’s safe to eat.”         “Oh relax, I had a few. They’re fine.”         She spied the juice stains all over his face and grinned. “A few, huh?”         “Yeah. You know. Three or four. To make sure they were OK.”         She snorted. “More like three or four full-sized berry bushes, leaves and all!”         “Did not!”         “Soarin’, your face is covered with juice!”         “That doesn’t prove anything!” He shot her a wicked smile and grabbed a berry. “After all, so’s yours!” With that, he smeared the berry across her forehead         “Why you- C’mere! I think you’d look good with some purple blush on those cheeks!” She dove at him, taking a berry in each forehoof. Before long, she had his face made up like a mare on Hearts and Hooves day.         “Hey, watch the uniform!”         “You started it!” Spitfire rolled over and stamped a hoof down on one of his side pockets. She was rewarded by a spreading purple stain and an unhappy grunt from her wingmate. “Besides, what you really mean is, ‘watch out for the secret stash of extras in your uni-’”         “Northwing Seven! Report!”         Spitfire and Soarin’ rolled to a stop, red-faced from more than just the pulpy juice.         Aurora shot the cadets a bemused smirk. Spitfire recovered first. “Captain! Camp’s broken!”         “Breakfast’s ready,” continued Soarin’.         “And we were... just waiting for Five and Six.”         Aurora sauntered over to the packs and the berries. “Hmph. Son, did you pick twice as many as you needed to because you were planning on slathering yourself with honeyberry juice and wrestling with your wingmate? Or was that just a happy accident?”         Soarin’ withered. “Happy accident, I guess?”         The captain idly examined the equipment and munched a few berries. “No word from the other two?”         “Not yet.”         “Mmhmm. Sunshine?”         “Yes?”         “Think fast!” Aurora flipped a berry into the air with each wingtip and batted them at each cadet’s face. Spitfire dove into Soarin’, pushing him out of the way and sweeping aside his berry with her tail. The two younger ponies leapt and stumbled into the forest.         Aurora called after them, “These are the rules of engagement: hard ceiling, treetop level! No running skyward! If you can throw it, it’s legal ammunition! If I hit either of you, anywhere but the tail, you both lose! And?”         Already winded from pulling Soarin’ along, Spitfire threw her head back over her shoulder. “And... you’re faster! So... attacking... smarter than running!”         Aurora glided to a stop, and nodded. “Good! What else?”         Spitfire skidded to a stop behind a toppled tree. She clamped a hoof over Soarin’s mouth. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say, but she was sure saying it would give them away.         “I’m waiting!”         Soarin’ prodded her to answer. She gave a stern shake of her head. Eventually they heard the captain laugh. “Very good! You’re a quick study, kid!” Spitfire closed her eyes and listened for the Captain’s movements. Soarin’ ended any hope of that by whispering, loud enough to wake the dead, “What now, Spit?” She shushed him with a hoof. He made an exasperated gesture. She heard movement nearby. She signaled follow; fly low with her ears and set off skimming the forest floor. Flying in close tandem, they snap-rolled over honeysuckle, banked low under the evergreen canopy, circled back to check for pursuit, and raced ahead. Spitfire couldn’t help but recall that other patch of forest, weeks ago. She stole a glance backward, catching Soarin’s determined grin between her own motley wings. The cuts and bruises were all healed, and only four of the grafted feathers remained to regrow. Tumbling through the sky that day, she’d regretted ever leaving home. Looking back now, even accounting for the lows--and if she was honest with herself, training had had some pretty nasty lows--she wouldn’t trade a moment of it. After a few minutes of tense terrain-following flying, Spitfire and Soarin’ stopped to take stock behind a rock formation. They considered their meager stock of ammunition: the half-dozen berries from Soarin’s secret stash that Spitfire hadn’t destroyed. “For pony’s sake, Spit! Why’d you hafta go and do that, anyway? “Excuse me for not realizing we’d need ammunition for a food fight with your mother!” Spitfire waved away his next retort before he could make it. “Okay okay! I’m sorry! Listen: does goalie-ing translate to blocking incoming fire?” He cocked his head and shot her a quizzical look. “Can you use your goalie magic to block your mom’s attacks?” He frowned. “Doubt it. Tail won’t stop a puck.” “Fine. You’re not on defense. How’s your aim?” He hefted one of the berries experimentally and nodded at a nearby tree trunk. “See that bird’s nest about ten feet up?” Spitfire nodded. The berry sailed about ten feet wide. “Great. Any bright ideas?” Soarin’ grinned. “I could throw you at her.” She snorted. “Be serious.” “I am! One, I’m strong enough to throw you, and you could guide yourself all the way in, so I wouldn’t have to be precise; two, ‘if I can throw it, it’s legal ammunition,’ remember?” Spitfire grinned. “That’s... actually pretty clever, Soarin’. We’ll call that one ‘Plan B.’ She is faster than me, so we’d still have to come up with a way to get the drop on her.” “Oh, that’s easy! We’ll use me as bait.” “Nope.” He scowled at her. “Yes we will. It’s a good plan! We split up, she chases me, I lead her to you!” She shook her head. “Or she gets you while we’re separated. And as an added bonus, she only likes me because I saved her sons from armed madponies! Using her son as bait is not the way to impress the boss! We’ll do it, but I’m the bait.” He pointed a hoof at her chest, no longer looking amused. “Let’s get a few things straight, Spit. This isn’t you versus her, and I’m just your baggage. This is us versus her. Second, this plan relies on the ambusher actually hitting her.” He gestured at the bird’s nest. “That means I’m not throwing bark or berries. Third, as somepony I’m very fond of told me not too long ago, you're my partner, not my protector.” Spitfire touched his shoulder. “Very fond of?” His cheeks colored and he opened his mouth to respond. Then a hail of berries impacted the rock wall. The two ponies dashed out into the forest.         Spitfire called back over her shoulder, hoping she wasn’t loud enough for Aurora to hear, “New plan! Split up--not too far apart--and whoever she follows is bait. Fair enough?”         “Sounds good!”         She signalled left with her ears and then turned right, weaving between trees as fast as she dared. She fell into a progression: change direction every first, second, or third tree at random, circle back to look for Aurora every fifth turn. In short order the captain was following her, either failing to notice Soarin’ or correctly guessing their strategy and pursuing the more dangerous target.         Spitfire sped up, made her path more erratic. She dove through pine needles, hooked her hoof on branches to execute quick turns and looped and climbed to the limits of the forest ceiling to make full use of the arena. Her partner never attacked. When she finally looked back to see if she was still being pursued, the captain was nowhere to be seen.         “Spitfire!”         Soarin’s voice. Trouble. Spitfire vaulted into the air and zipped up above the treetops. That hadn’t sounded like a matter of fun and games. She heard him again.         “Spit! Mom! Bro!”         This time she knew where it was coming from. She tucked her wings in a power dive and crashed through the forest, landing with a thump. A few yards away, Soarin’ was hanging upside down, tangled in thick milk-white cords.         She chuckled. “This looks familiar. What’s up, Soarin’? Just hangin’ out?”         Soarin’ looked well and truly panicked. “Not funny, Spit! Not funny! This is a-”         “Spider web, I know.” She gave him a reassuring pat on the head. “Great big tangle web. Fresh, too: bet that’s sticky. Looks like probably a Great Nor-”         “I don’t care what it is, I just don’t want to be spiderbait!”         Spitfire gave a wistful smile and shook her head. “First he wants to be bait, then he doesn’t. Just won’t make up your mind, huh? Relax. I don’t see, hear, or feel anything. Nothing’s coming, and I’m going to get you down. Just stop struggling.”         Soarin’ whipped his head around in all directions. “Where is it? How far away is it? How fast do they move?”         She put a hoof on either side of his face. “Soarin’? Stop. Struggling. Spiders can barely see. It’s vibration in the web that tells them when supper’s ready. The less you move, the longer I have. Okay?”         He nodded. Then the web started thrumming.         “Oh great! Your uniform’s stuck fast, best bet’s just to get you out of it. Try to... I don't know, try to twist yourself so I can get at the zipper!”         Soarin’ writhed around until she could get her teeth on the zipper of his flight suit. The zipper snagged on a strand of spider silk before it was half-open. “It won’t come undone!”         “Then get outta here, Spit!”         The thrumming grew wilder, more insistent. Spitfire lost her hold on Soarin’s flight suit and tangled her mane in a nearby strand. “I’m stuck! And I wouldn’t even if I could!”         “That’s sweet, but I really - hey! Can you reach my back legs? My blades are back there!”         “You do realize that’s not the right way to wear those, right?”         “Yeah, yeah... makes berry picking easier, though. Can you get ‘em or not?”         Out of the corner of her eye, Spitfire saw a glossy black shape heave around a tree trunk and throw itself to the forest floor. She strained for Soarin’s blades.         “Almost! Couldja gimme a boost?” Soarin’ shoved his neck between her hind legs and pushed her up the rest of the way. “Hey! Watch it, mister!” “Didn’t have many options, partner!”         Spitfire pulled the blades free, strapped them on, and sliced ragged chunks from her mane where it was stuck in the web. She dropped to the ground, wings and blades out, balancing on her hind legs. “Soarin’? Hold tight. I’ll be right back.”         She flung herself into the air, rising to twice treetop level in a flash. She spotted the spider on the forest floor below her.         Yup. Great Northern Widow. Legs twice as long as me. Nasty venom. Thick carapace. Fast sucker, too.         Not much chance of scaring it off. No chance of getting Soarin’ out in time. Great, big abdomen meant she should strike from the front. Sever something important on the first pass. She lined herself up carefully and waited for her moment. The Widow lumbered forward, its every step making Soarin’ squirm. Spitfire steeled herself. The best chance for both of them depended on picking exactly the right moment.         “Any time now, Spit!”         Not yet. Sorry, big guy. Hang in there.         She waited until the spider reared up to bite Soarin’, then swooped down in an arc, flipping as she passed under her wingmate, delivering a two-hoofed flying buck to the monster’s sternum and taking off its fangs in a double stroke. As it rocked back, she flipped down and attacked its hind legs, crushing one with her hooves and slashing at the other. The spider toppled over onto its back, chittering and screeching. Spitfire dashed left, leapt up and slid down its abdomen, opening it from one end to the other in one long cut with one blade before driving the other into its sternum.         The beast flailed as it died. One of its legs caught her tail in its bristly comb and threw her into the web beside Soarin. She hung there, stuck fast and upside down, and surveyed her handiwork with mixed emotions.         Might have scared it into playing dead, if more of us had been here. Might have cut Soarin’ out of his uniform and run for it, if I’d been wearing mine. Might, if. Might, if. Either way: one more save, one more kill. How does it feel?         Not great.         As the spasms and the clicking faded, Soarin’ turned to her. “That’s... twice in three days. Thanks.”         She shrugged. Or rather, she tried to. “So what’s that mean, two more and we’re even?”         He snorted. “Eh, who’s counting, right?” The two hanging ponies laughed, swaying gently in the morning breeze. They were quiet for a long moment. Spitfire felt the blood rush to her head. She started to get dizzy. Beside her, Soarin’ grunted and twisted, forcing one of his forelegs up into the body of his uniform, then the other. He pushed against the jammed zipper until it broke, then spilled out onto the forest floor.         “Lucky you landed on your head. Might have hurt yourself otherwise.”         He smirked up at her. “I wouldn’t be making jokes just yet. Danger’s passed and now who’s hanging around helpless?”         Spitfire’s eyes widened. “What? Not fair! Totally not fair! The danger is passed because I passed it!”         Soarin’ tapped a thoughtful hoof on his chin. “True. On the other hoof, you did turn on me in favor of Dinky the other day.”         “I had orders! I regret nothing!”         He flipped out his wingtips. “Oh, you will.”         She did. He was as merciless as she’d been, all those days ago, and didn’t relent until he realized he had an audience.         “What did li’l Dinky say next? ‘Now kiss!’”         Spitfire groaned as the rest of their little expedition landed around her. “Hi, Red. What took you?”         Aurora stepped in front of Red as Wedge deposited Spitfire’s equipment beside her. “I was half a heartbeat behind you, but when I saw you annihilate the poor beast and then get yourself stuck, I thought another set of fighting hooves would be less useful than your team and your equipment. Now, Sunshine, how about a report?” The captain couldn’t keep a chuckle out of her words.         “Right. Well, during our game, I guess Eight got himself a tiny bit stuck, woke up the Widow there, um... I gave myself a manecut... Cut up the spider a bit too... I’m sorry, captain. I’ve been upside down for a while. My head hurts.”         Aurora gave a small sigh. “Right. Soarin’, get over here. Get the canteen and the soap. If you can’t dissolve the glue in the web, you’ll have to give her an even closer trim to get her out of there.” As her son complied she hefted a berry in her wingtip and held it back. “Oh, and Sunshine? About the game...” She wound up and prepared to pitch it at her student.         From beside her, at his equipment pack, Soarin’ shot out a hoof and smooshed a berry against his mother’s leg before she had a chance to throw. “We win.”         Spitfire thrust out her hooves as far as the web allowed. “Yes! Go team!”         B Flight cruised north for the remainder of the day, pushing themselves higher and faster than training had prepared them to fly. Spitfire’s mane was now as short as freshly grazed grass, her two-tone hair revealing a whorling, rippling effect at the roots even she hadn’t realized it had. One other product of the morning, her pack now contained several coils of dragline silk, which might prove valuable on the mission ahead.         As they soared over the blue-green ribbon of water the winter wolf had told them to follow, they blazed past soaring peaks, deep marbled canyons, caves, lakes, mysterious rock formations - and Soarin’ tried to stop and point out all of them to her, until his mother was forced to send him up for high point duty again. Spitfire smiled at his reluctantly retreating form.         As they screamed up the valley, the air grew colder. The sky ahead darkened. Visibility dropped and they found themselves flying into a fierce headwind. At the pace they’d been going, they’d have made the base of the glaciers by sundown. At the pace they’d been reduced to, it could take a week.         Then the rain began. An icy, torrential downpour soaked the ponies and their gear, rendering their packs nearly twice as heavy. In a single, shared look they all realized they’d have to land. Soarin’ dove down to rejoin the others as soon as he recognized he might lose sight of them. He led them under an overhanging rock by the river. Soaked to the bone, Red grumped. “Why didn’t we take shelter up there, above this mess?” Soarin’ shouted back to be heard over the gale, “We can’t! Somepony else is up there! And they’re doing this!” Aurora leaned in, ice-cold rain dripping from her face. “Did you see ‘em, son?” “No!” Red fired back. “How do you know there’s anypony up there, then?” “You never lived with wild weather! I have! Wild storms form over water and then blow east. This one: too fast, wrong place, wrong heading! We got somepony pinning us down for sure!” Aurora gestured sharply to get the cadets’ attention. “Whatever’s going on, we need to find more suitable shelter! Follow me!”         Ten minutes later--ten minutes that had felt like an eternity--B Flight found themselves holed up in a small cave on a mountainside. The entrance was a crack that ran far up the mountainside and let the rain in, and the floor was a mess of slick wet mud. On the other hoof, it was out of the wind, so it would have to do.         Aurora scraped some mud away and lay down, frustrated and fatigued. “Right. Options?”         Spitfire offered one first. “We could attack.”         Aurora shot her a skeptical glance. “Upside: resolves the situation quickly if we succeed. Downside: we don’t know where they are, we don’t know how many there are, and we don’t know how well-equipped they are.”         Spitfire persisted. “Another upside: if we catch one, we get some answers!”         “Kid, if we catch one we have to get a prisoner all the way back to camp, somehow. Or let her go. Or just kill her. Any of those sound good to you?”         Spitfire wilted. Red tried the next idea. “We’re pegasi, too. We could just disperse it.”         “If we knew we outnumbered them, that’d be a fine idea. As things stand, that looks like more than a typical four-pony storm.” Wedge stepped up. “We wait till nightfall, then we go over them, hit the icefields when they can’t see us.”         The captain shook her head. “Too dangerous. Puts hostile ice elementals on one side and hostile ponies on the other, forces us to make camp in the dark. Awfully cold up there, too. Then there’s the risk one of us gets lost.”         Red slumped into the mud, then grimaced. “So, what? We either turn back or wait them out?”         Aurora closed her eyes. “Something like that, yes.”         Soarin’ exploded. “That plan sucks! What’re they doing? Either they’re stalling us or they’re attacking. In the one case, we need to get up there before they want us there, or else the whole mission’s a big waste, and in the other case, we gotta get out of here ‘cause they’ll be hunting!”         “Son, I do believe it’s been five years since I’ve seen you this fired up. They come looking for us, your marefriend and I cut them to confetti. Just like you four did all by yourselves a few nights ago. They delay us, we just trust they’re the idiots and amateurs we know they are and we find what we need anyway. The fact remains that you four aren’t rated to fly in that soup, and I won’t risk you!”         He persisted. “You should at least let me sneak up to max altitude and keep an eye out for ‘em. If we can get an idea how many there are or where they’re staging out of, we might be able to do something about it.”         His brother backed him up. “My night vision’s pretty solid. With my dark coat and a manecut like Seven’s, I’ll be pretty hard to spot. I can go up scouting after dark, too.”         Aurora sighed. “And I can scout from the underside. It’s better than doing nothing. All right. Girls: you’re on housekeeping, groceries, and home security. Why not tidy up the place while we’re out?”         Two dreary days dragged past. Spitfire gathered a small stockpile of palatable greens and wildflowers. Red scraped away the muck and laid down a floor of evergreen needles. The two of them partially erected the tents in a way that blocked the falling rain and diverted it deeper into the cave. The boys and their mother spent half their time out and the other half sleeping. If they’d discovered anything even remotely interesting, they hadn’t bothered to tell the girls. By the second afternoon, Spitfire was itching for someone to come try to invade their little den.         Late on the third morning, while Aurora and Soarin’ explored and Wedge slept off his night mission, the girls sat and stared forlornly out of their little home away from home.         “Sittin’ in the mornin’ rain,” sang Red.         “I’ll be sittin’ when the evenin’... came?” continued Spitfire.         “Watching the clouds roll in”         “And then I watch ‘em roll away again, yeah”         Sittin’ in the mouth of the cave,”         “Watchin’ the sky just a’rainin’ away,”         “Sittin’ in the mouth of the cave...”         Spitfire sprang to her hooves and began to pace. “Wasting time! Ugh! Sorry, Red. I’m just... so... bored!”         Red chuckled at her. “Okay, let’s play a game.”         Spitfire wheeled on her. “We can’t play ‘I Spy’ anymore because the only things we can see are rocks, trees, rain, and each other!”         “Right. So let’s play ‘I can make Spitfire turn red, shut up, and sit down in under fifteen words.’ I’ll go first: So, tell me how much you enjoyed being bound, secured, and tickled by Soarin’.         Spitfire blushed and sat down. She didn’t say anything for a long moment.         Red laughed. “I win! I’m good at this game.”         Spitfire regained her composure and grumped, “Not a fair game. I couldn’t make you do that in five thousand words.”         “Yep. Sounds about right.”         For a while, only the rain and thunder punctuated the silence.         “So, honey... how’s things?”         Spitfire scowled. “Oh, you know. Last two months, pretty great, ‘cept for a few really spectacularly bad bits. Past few years before that, lousy. All good before, though.”         Red rolled her eyes at her.         “What?”         “Nothin’, honey. Nothin’. I can take a hint: Action Mare doesn’t wanna chat.”         Spitfire groaned. “I’m sorry, Red. Really, I am. I know you’re probably bored out of your skull, too, and I’m not helping, am I?”         Red gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it. Just find something to do. Before you drive us both crazy.”         Spitfire stamped her hooves on the stones a few times, thinking. She brightened. “Hey! Let’s grab some flashlights and explore the cave!”         Red nodded. “That’s a great idea. You grab a flashlight and explore the cave. I’ll wake Wedge and make him entertain me.”         “You’re not coming with me?”         “Honey, we’re responsible for the camp. I have a feeling if it were Soarin’ sleeping alone in here, with extremist lunatics out there, you’d think twice about leaving him to go exploring.”         Spitfire sighed. “Good point. I promise I’ll be back soon.” Spitfire ducked around the tarpaulin that separated their camp from the rest of the cave. The sound and spray of rushing water filled the air. The weak circle of illumination from her flashlight reflected back off of the spray as much as it illuminated the slick, smooth rocks. She edged forward into the torrent. The way they’d blocked the water from entering their camp had created an ersatz stream in the cave with a strong current, and every other step threatened to plunge her into the water and carry her down into the cave.  She looked up. Low clearance. Still, flying might be better. Then she saw a narrow point ahead, where she’d have to go through the rushing water. She’d need some rope. Should have thought of that to begin with, genius. She carefully slid back to the tarp and slipped back into camp to retrieve her spider silk rope. Red was nowhere to be seen. As she reached her pack, she heard a loud cry from one of the tents. A jolt ran up her spine. There was another cry. And another. Red’s voice. Spitfire’s eyes shot open and her cheeks burned. They wouldn’t! But they were. She flipped the coil of silk over her neck, squeezed her eyes shut and headed back for the exit. Not listening! Not listening! Not listening! Oh Harmony, she is a screamer. She ducked back into the safety of the cave, where the rushing water drowned out the sound of her teammates earning a washout the fun way. She found a stalagmite that looked like it’d hold her rope and kicked it to make sure it was sturdy. She tied herself off and began to let out the line. In short order she reached the bottleneck between teeth of stone that she’d seen earlier. She took a deep breath, gripped the line tightly and submerged herself in the cold water to slip through the gap.          She shot through the opening. A falling sensation greeted her on the other side, and she found herself hanging in a large chamber with the water shooting out above her. At that moment she realized she hadn’t actually known her flashlight was waterproof and thanked Harmony for small mercies. She turned and planted her back hooves against the wall, slowly letting out more line until her tail touched water. She looked around. The chamber was roughly cylindrical, nearly as wide as their campsite, and no visible ceiling. The water didn’t seem to be rising, but she couldn’t see or hear any place where it was leaving the chamber. The inky darkness swallowed the light mere yards from her face; she’d have to get a close look at the walls to see if there was another way out of this room apart from the way she’d come in. She spread her wings and hovered beneath the waterfall, letting the line go slack. Tiny crystalline flecks in the granite walls caught the light as she searched the room, creating strange patterns with the shadows cast by cracks and bumps. She circled the room slowly, ascending as she went.  From the waterline to her point of entry, she found nothing but slick walls and narrow cracks, but high above there was a ledge - and on the ledge, a sledge hammer.         With a start, she bolted for the stream, winding up the rope and hiding under the waterfall. Tools meant somepony had been here. How recently? She crept back up until she was under the ledge and turned her light off. Nothing, not even a glow. No sound but the falling water. She pulled herself up and turned her light back on. She set the light down to examine the hammer. The tool looked entirely unremarkable: well worn but not old, caked with a bit of mud but not dusty. It might have sat here disused for several months, or have been set here an hour ago. She couldn’t tell. Either way it wasn’t some decades-old refuse from an abandoned mine. She looked around. The ledge led back to a tunnel, with a bend several yards beyond, where--         A reflection. There was a light coming around the bend. Spitfire looked around wildly. She needed them to not know she’d been there. She set the hammer down clumsily, tripping on her own safety line and kicking her flashlight backward into the water below. The wavering light grew brighter. She could just hear the faint sounds of two voices behind the roar of the water. She hopped backward into the air, hovering beyond the ledge. Her white silk line nearly glowed in the reflected lantern light. She hastily tossed it off her shoulders and into the water. It’d be waiting for her beneath the waterfall. She scrambled to find a hoof hold above the ledge and waited.         No, Spitfire thought sarcastically, take your time. Whoever was down there, they’d taken five minutes to walk twenty paces. She held herself in place with her head just above the opening by jamming her hooves hard against cracks in the wall, and her legs were starting to burn.         Minute after agonizing minute, the lantern light swayed and grew brighter. Finally two silhouettes poked out and surveyed the cavern.         “I don’t see why we don’t just bust through that wall, go in after ‘em.”         “Not your job to see why. But since you’re curious, main reason’s a little thing called orders. Heard of ‘em? Observe and report. Keep ‘em busy. Do not engage. You read the dispatches? Try it sometime. Viceroy goes on and on about his plans for the yellow one. And his vengeance on the traitor. You really got the balls to try anything to threaten that?”         “Ha! Lady’d thank me, though. She’s jealous.”         “Can you blame her though? Guy won’t shut up about his new project.”         “Alright, whatever. Back to it.” The senior guard pony explained the new guard’s duties, in excruciating detail. For a good half-hour. If every moment of it hadn’t been torment, Spitfire might have marvelled at his ability to spend so many words without really saying anything. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I sit here, I watch the pretty waterfall, and nothing happens because you’d have to be a moron to try and get through that hole from either side. What happens if they do, and they start drownin’ in the pool because coming through is suicide?”         Spitfire’s face burned at the implied insult. The other pony was quiet for a long minute. “Hell... I guess if that happens... you save ‘em. Then... hell if I know. You figure it out. All we know is, Vice wants ‘em home safe so he can do ‘em his way.”         “Hell of a thing, isn’t it? Welp, I haven’t got killing you on my schedule for another few weeks, so I guess I’ll just have to save you today!”         “Ha! Yeah. I gotta get back. Relief in six hours.”         Spitfire’s joints ached, and her muscles screamed in agony. As the senior pony’s hoofbeats retreated, she decided the water must be loud enough to cover the sound of her wings and allow her to hover. Slowly, carefully, she pushed away from the wall, careful to stay in the deepest shadows above the ledge where the remaining guard sat. Her legs thanked her, but even that was a temporary solution: even if she could hover for six hours, her team would come looking for her before then.         She looked at the waterfall. Fighting the rush of water might well be suicidal. Would the guards’ tunnel be a better option? It obviously led to the surface, but where? For all she knew, it let out into a Wild Sky camp. The rope. The rope gave her a fighting chance of getting back through the opening, and then she’d be yards from her friends. Even if the tunnel let out somewhere secluded and safe, she’d have to find her way back to B Flight, flying through a valley that was obviously being watched by the enemy, with her bright yellow coat.         If I can get below the ledge, I can drop in the water. From there, just get under the waterfall, grab the rope, and start climbing.         She just had to get below the ledge unseen. Two seconds. If she could be absolutely certain he was looking the wrong way for two seconds, she could drop beneath him, and she’d be home free. She prodded at her pockets with her hooves to take stock and see what she had to work with. She had her sopping wet uniform, her blades, a lucky bit that Soarin’ had snuck in her pocket, a maple syrup candy he’d also snuck in there... Thanks, big guy. That’s another save I owe you.         Spitfire extended a blade and stuck the sticky, partly dissolved candy to the end of it. The bit was new and shiny--shiny enough to see reflections in. She stuck it to the candy on the end of the black blade. Mirror on a stick. Sometimes I amaze even myself. She angled her makeshift mirror to give her a view of the guard pony. He looked bored. He hardly moved. His eyes darted back and forth erratically. Not good.          She watched him for several long minutes. He never budged. She noticed that her mirror made a little bright patch on the floor behind him. She moved that patch to the left corner of the ledge and made it dance about, drawing his attention.         “Where in the hay is that coming from?” The guardpony stepped to the lip and looked up and to the left, and by then Spitfire had gone out around to the right and slipped into the water.         Spitfire fumbled blindly for her rope. Every time she thought she had it around her hoof, it jerked away from her. She grew frustrated with it until the terrible realization dawned on her that it was dancing because someone was pulling it in. Terrified, she lunged about underwater until she seized it with her teeth and scrambled to wrap the very end of it around her midsection as powerful pulses pulled her out of the water. Above, she could see that the guard was still looking up for the source of the dancing reflections. Keep looking, buddy. You’ll spot it. Keep it up. Whatever you do, don’t look down! Then the tension on the line tugged her into the torrent. She thought she heard a surprised grunt from the guard as she went headfirst into the waterfall.         Like a pony possessed, Soarin’ pulled the dragline silk hoof over hoof, faster and faster. He hit a snag that almost knocked him over, beat his wings and resumed pulling. Moments later he pulled up a soaking wet Spitfire with the end of the rope in her teeth.         The rest of B Flight let out a sigh of relief. Soarin’ gathered her up into his hooves. Aurora laughed.         “That’s a big catch, son. You gonna keep her, or toss her back?”         He glowered at Spitfire, worry making his voice sound angry. “I just might throw her back after a stunt like that. What were you thinking?”         Spitfire stared back, a challenge in her eyes. “I think you’d better listen to what I’ve just heard! We need to get out of here!” Spitfire gathered the team back inside their camp and told the full story of her exploration, steamrolling over objections and questions until she got to the bit where the Wild Sky guards appeared. The others grew quiet. She finished her story. “Let’s recap. Viceroy: again with the big plans for me. Big plans that make the lady jealous. No thanks. Wants you dead, but not yet? Wants us tied up for a long time. Watching us right now. Not hunting us, orders not to hurt us, orders to keep us busy. We need them to not see us, and we need to get back.”         Aurora patted the yellow mare on the shoulder. “Hold your horses, kid. We’re not done here. We still need to get what we came for: preferably, the names of whomever these jokers have turned in my Corps. You’re right, though; we do need to get around them unnoticed. If they’re using one tunnel, they’re probably using more. Sorry, kids. I know I’ve been trying to let this be your mission but I think it’s time I lead from in front for a bit. Get things here as ready to move as you can without striking the tents. Wait for me.” The captain ducked out into the evening rain and was gone.         B Flight tooled around the cave, packing up equipment and food, chatting half-heartedly. Soarin’ was distressed to hear that Spitfire had lost her lucky bit until she explained she’d used it to save herself.         At one point, after night had fallen and things had calmed down a bit, Spitfire pulled Red aside.                  “So, Red, when I left camp before... I had to come back a few minutes later for my rope.”         “Is that so? Good thing you came back for it, honey. Otherwise you still might be stuck out there.”         “Right. Right. Anyway, let’s... let’s play a game.”         Red’s eyes twinkled. “Oh good, I like games.”         “It’s called ‘What Did I Hear When I Came Back to Camp?’”         Red batted her eyes innocently. “Was it the dulcet tones of my singing voice?”         Spitfire gave her a flat stare. “Not exactly.”         “Was it Wedge working on his bear call?”         “Red, be serious.”         The scarlet mare’s face broke into a broad smile. “Was it the two of us doing some exploring of our own?”         Spitfire glared. “I don’t know. You tell me.”         Red suppressed a delighted squeal. “It was! So help me, it was!”         “Red! This isn’t something to celebrate! This is big trouble! How long has this been going on?”         “Relax, honey. Only since the mission. We’re out here on official Corps business, we might as well be graduated. We’re not cadets anymore.”         Spitfire leaned in, concern etched on her face. “I just hope his mother agrees with you if she finds out, Red. You three are the only friends I’ve got. I don’t wanna lose two of you just ‘cause you got impatient.”         “Oh, honey. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m not going anywhere. Besides,” Red finally showed a flicker of uncertainty, “I’m... I’m sure she doesn’t know.”         Always one to make an entrance, the captain appeared. “She does know, soldier. And you should thank your lucky stars she’s willing to see it your way out here. Just remember, she might not have the freedom to do so when we get back to Glimmervale.”         Red paled. Spitfire worried that she’d shrink right down into a crack in the floor. “Y-yes. ma’am!”         Aurora fixed her with a cruel smile. “I’m glad we have an understanding. If you make me expel my son, I will make your life a living hell. Got it?”         Words escaped Red, and she could only nod.         “Right. Boys! Front and center!” Aurora tossed a pile of black ponchos onto the floor. “Winter coats, weapons, and food. No bedrolls. No packs. No tents. Put one of these on over it all and follow me.”         Aurora led them out of the cave and across the ridge, up the mountainside to where the rain turned to snow. Another cave opened up in the mountain, and it quickly became clear that this one had been carved by hooves and tools, not time and water. Silently they crept along, sometimes on hoof, sometimes flying just above the tunnel floor. They could hear the hoofbeats of other ponies in the tunnels. Their light-starved eyes occasionally caught a glimmer of something bright around a corner. Aurora always led them away from the light. The night dragged on. They emerged well above the tree line, where only rocks and snow greeted them under the soft moonlight. The storm raged to their left, the sky lay calm to their right. Aurora took them up the ridge and through another opening in the mountain. This passage seemed an endless twisting passage of stairs. Up they went, until it seemed they must have gone higher than the peak of the mountain they thought they were inside. Finally an opening appeared, and through it glowed the first faint rays of sunrise. The five adventurers crowded around that doorway. The young ones were unprepared for what they saw. The peaks formed a natural bowl high in the mountains, and as the bowl filled with snow every year, the ice became thicker. Many of the region’s glaciers, including the Glimmerfang Glacier that fed the lake just outside of town, flowed out of the Icefields, and they’d been up on it countless times. They thought they knew what to expect: a vast expanse of flat, white waste punctuated by the occasional blue crevasse. None was ready for the reality: fields of crystalline, translucent grasses, dotted by glassy trees, tended and grazed by herds of animals all made of ice. Just like the great alpha winter wolf that waited to greet them with an angry howl. “Welcome,” said Aurora, “to the Icefields”