It Should Have Been . . .
It should have been a dark and stormy night! Just to be perverse, it was calm, clear and well lit by a nearly full, waning gibbous moon.
Rory was laying in wait! Nightmare Night was his favorite! He was lurking in the brush, not far from the cemetery wall. His costume totally hid his head and cutie mark, making it all the more fun to jump out at the passing foals!
When he waived that old scythe at them they ran like rabbits! Dropped their loot bags, as often as not! Fun all around! For him.
Pity that he swung wrong, that one time. Grazed one of the escort ponies. Nothing serious, but you know, if he got caught the authorities would be like it was the crime of the century!
It added spice to the game!
The slightly wounded mare ran straight for Twilight Sparkle’s Golden Oak Library! Breathless, she panted, “Twilight! We have to do something! Look at my neck! There is a big earth pony jumping out of the brush to scare foals into dropping their loot bags! He waves this big scythe! He hit me!”
Twilight paused in handing out small books and candies to her Nightmare Night visitors. Turning, she saw Spike at the ready, quill and parchment in hand.
“Take a note, Spike! Dear Princesses Celestia and Luna: We have a problem here in Ponyville.” In a few words, she described the unpleasant situation. Spike breathed fire on the note and the smoke streaked away!
Celestia and Luna were presiding over a masquerade dance party of nobles. It was about as boring as a Nightmare Night celebration could be. Luna had just observed, “Trust the nobility to make something so fun into a soporific!”
Celestia was giggling agreement when the wisp of smoke sailed in and became a note. She scanned it and promptly magicked it over to Luna.
“I think that this one is for you, Luna! Have the fun I am not going to have!”
Reading, Luna began to grin. Fangs showed. Ghastly pustules appeared in her magic, in lieu of stars. Her forehooves became claws. From her normal dark blue, she became utterly black. She answered Celestia, “I will! I have not spoken to Swift Feather in a long time.”
Dryly Celestia observed, “Being dead for 3000 years does tend to cut off the conversation!”
Luna said in a soft voice, “There is a loophole in that. I rule the Dream. The Dream can cross time.” She stalked out of the hall. Her condition upon leaving was noted by the Herald.
“Your Highness, what has so upset Princess Luna on this festive night in her honor?”
“It was not this festivity, however boring it may be. We had word of an evil thing in Ponyville. She is going to take care of it. She will return soon, I am reasonably sure.”
~~ ~~
Swift Feather lay in her sleeping stall in Fortress Canterlot. She hated garrison duty. She wanted to FLY. To carry out the good orders of her Princesses, so recently crowned.
Sleep came at last. With it came a dream. She saw her Princess Luna. She looked the same as the Princess that she knew except that somehow she seemed older, more experienced.
In her Dream, her Princess gave her the most welcome of orders. “Kit up, Swift Feather. Full battle gear. We have a wrong to put to rights.”
With the speed of dream, Swift Feather was ready. “Where are we going? What is it that we need to do, my Princess?”
The Dark Princess replied, “Follow me. It is not far by dream, though the distance is greater than mere leagues.
“Your wise leadership has secured us a great and mostly peaceful kingdom. We are going to stop one who would spoil the simple fun of many foals.”
Their wings spread, they flew through the mighty stone walls of the Fortress of Canterlot. Swift Feather saw in wonder, the very land beneath their wings change. The flying years beneath them saw forests grow and die. Fields planted and harvested in the blink of an eye, the stroke of a wing.
A town grew suddenly beneath them and Luna spiraled down, Swift Feather following. Luna pointed silently to a small herd of foals in outlandish costumes. They gathered at the door of a home and sang, “Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give us something sweet to bite!”
The smiling householder, also in costume, hoofed around a bowl of treats. The young ones eagerly took some, placing them into bags.
Luna directed, “Go and join them. Take with you this bag for your sweets. I promise that your skills will be needed soon.”
Puzzled, Swift Feather did as asked by her Princess. Settling her weapons properly for parade, she stepped out of the darkness and joined the foals.
They looked at her light aerial battle armor, with its bracers protecting her legs and wing joints. Her chanfron battle helmet, chain armor for her guts and steel for her flight muscles, spine and back.
One of them, in a sort of goblin costume, asked in wonder, “Wow! You look like a warrior from Fortress Canterlot! Who are you dressed as?”
Catching the mood, Swift Feather replied, “Good guess! I am Swift Feather, Flight Leader and Wing Commander to the Princesses Celestia and Luna of Fortress Canterlot!”
A little witch costumed filly commented, “Your outfit looks like real armor and weapons! Could I look at your shield and spear?”
Swift Feather nodded indulgently and held out her small targe and carefully unslung her air combat spear with its fins to guide its fall if it was used against a ground target.
Emboldened, the foals crowded about to examine her war gear. One bold colt tapped her breastplate. Awed, he said, “That is real steel. My dad is a smith. This is a totally awesome costume! It would be right at home in a museum!”
As Swift Feather replaced her spear and and small targe-sheild she understood what Princess Luna meant by a distance of more than mere leagues. Remembering the rest of her instruction, she thoughtfully settled her weapons for instant use.
She joined the happy chant of the foals and was given her fair share of the treats as well as many compliments on her costume.
Soon the group started up a street with brush and stone wall on one side.
Remembering that she was to right a wrong and that there was one who would try to spoil the foals' fun, she cautioned, “Let me lead you. This place does not look safe to me. It could be an ambush.”
The foals, thinking it a game, did fall in behind her.
Rory lunged out, swinging his scythe! The foals screamed and fell back!
Swift Feather’s targe caught Rory’s deadly blade and deflected it up past her head! She dove in close, using her spear shaft to block Rory from pulling his scythe back!
Enraged at the failure of his trick, Rory tried to spin about so that he could continue what was now a real attack! When the vicious swing was just starting, Swift Feather stabbed! The combination of his spin and her thrust drove the spear deep into his shoulder!
The scythe clattered safely away across the cobbles! Shocked, Rory screamed his agony! He was down and kicking frantically!
The astounded foals watched the combat in utter amazement! Not one dropped a loot bag! Swift Feather pulled back, her targe at the ready, a short, pointed stabbing sword at the guard in her skilled hoof.
Assured that the enemy was down and safe, she directed in her best military manner, “One of you get a constable! The rest search those bushes! He has stolen other foals' treats! We must see if they can be returned to their proper foals!”
The youngsters, responding to her air of total authority, sprang to follow her orders! The smith’s colt sprinted up the street for help! The others found the loot bags in Rory’s hidden ambush place.
The situation now under control, Swift Feather heard the voice of Dream, of Princess Luna, speaking in mind, “You have done very well, this night, Swift Feather! Fly back with me across the ages to your well earned rest.”
She took off in a thunder of wings. A watching filly said admiringly, “Look how well she can fly with all of that armor!”
Together, Swift Feather and Luna flew across ages back to Fortress Canterlot and through its stout stone walls. Swift Feather saw her sleeping self and faded into her body. Lips curled into a smile for her good dream of righting a wrong.
When she awoke, she found a bag with treats in it under her pillow.
~~ ~~
In Ponyville, the Constable Crager was trying to make sense of the scene. The foals were the only witnesses and they would not budge from their story. “It was Flight Leader Swift Feather from Fortress Canterlot! She said so herself!”
Looking at the antique design of the aerial battle spear in Rory’s shoulder and then at the big scythe laying in the street, Constable Crager could almost believe it. The Ambulance Ponies were getting Rory stabilized for removal to Ponyville General Horspital.
One commented, “We are going to have to get that spear out of his shoulder to get him into the ambulance!”
The blacksmith’s colt pointed to the spear and said, “No you don’t. Look, Swift Feather is taking it back to Fortress Canterlot!”
The solid seeming spear lodged in Rory’s shoulder quietly faded away like a dream upon awakening.
~THE END~