The air was that was so cold that it stung Cloudchaser’s lungs, and so thin that even gasping hard enough to dry out the back of her throat still left her feeling light-headed. Her wings ached, her injured shoulder throbbed, her muscles were seizing in the cold—the moment of transformation was ending. Cloudchaser was a pony again, and the rage of the wind was finally taking its toll on her pony body.

Read More