I:I A Heart-stopping Detour

The Solar Enigma

Book I

Chapter I: A Heart-stopping Detour

“Winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail” – Unknown

Soarin hated winter. He hated ice condensing on his feathers, making flight not only more tedious but painful as well. He hated how snow made it difficult to see his surroundings and how speed made him colder. How night appeared faster and lasted longer. But mostly, he hated winter because it meant more courier missions.

Soarin had absolutely no idea why, as the Wonderbolts running courier missions struck him as odd. After all, he had trained for over eighty hours a week when he was a cadet. Flying from one point to another was not exactly aerodynamically challenging. Instead, Soarin hypothesized that Princess Celestia got some aberrant pleasure out of making the elite fliers of the Royal Equestrain Airforce perform mundane tasks. Of course, once he brought up his complaint about courier missions to Captain Spitfire he suddenly found himself during a lot more of them.

In fact, Soarin blamed courier missions for the mess that he currently found himself in. Flying stupidly through a blinding blizzard was not his idea of a good time after all.

The day had started off simple enough. Upon arriving at work, only a few minutes late, Spitfire had yelled and had made the entire team do pointless drills for a few hours and then had yelled some more. The rest of the morning had passed in a blur and before Soarin could even blink he had been stuck with a solo courier mission to Manehatten. Apparently, Spitfire had wanted to train the cadets and he was a bad influence.

Soarin had arrived in Manehatten and delivered his letter with his head held high and an imperial step in his strut. Soon after, a late lunch had followed, and Soarin found himself grateful to be in Manehatten as the food was absolutely ambrosial there. During his third course, the flier overheard two squabbling mares talking about a wild storm. Apparently it was going to hit central Equestria, the worst one in over a decade.

Wild storms were always a lot more dangerous than pony generated storms. Pegasus storms made sense; had an order to their chaos, whereas wild storms were just that – wild. So wild, in fact, that it was next to impossible for pegasi to control undomesticated weather; only those with extreme skill and training could hope to make even a slight difference.

However, it just so happened that there was a pie baking conference in Canterlot that night and Soarin had planned on attending no matter what. He doubted that Nightmare Moon herself would have been able to stop him. Spitfire normally would have been able to, but Soarin had operation Extinguisher ready to go in case he ran into the fiery Captain.

With such a crucial event on the horizon Soarin had had no problem trying to beat the storm back to Canterlot. After all, what was the worse that could happen?

Soarin had been cursing through the air, muscles working as his wings rose and fell majestically through the air – graceful yet powerful. A harsh humming had been coming from his mouth and his mind was lost on the pie-shaped clouds. He had briefly considered flying above the storm. However, lack of oxygen had quickly debunked that idea. Sure, in a short flight or trick, it would have been fine, but oxygen deprivation could become problematic on longer trips. So he had opted to remain closer to the ground.

It had only taken one snowflake to put a damper on his good mood.

And suddenly, Soarin found himself flying through a torrent of wind and ice. The storm moved in faster than a colt opening a birthday present. The heavy clouds blocked his vision and the wind was messing with his sense of direction. Pitching his wings he decreased his altitude to reorient himself.

Continually readjusting the feathers on his wings to account for varying wind speeds, he dropped to around twenty wing-lengths. Closer to the ground the air was slightly warmer and the visibility had drastically improved. Eyes darting around the area, Soarin noticed that he was fairly close to a small town. Recognition crossed his green eyes as he identified the large structure in the town center. It was Ponyville.

Banking his wings back hard, Soarin turned his forward momentum up and did a quick back flip. He took a deep breath, angled his wings and shot forward like and arrow. His increased speed was exhilarating, but also caused sharp pricks of cold on his exposed nose. Still, he hoped that with his new speed the storm would rapidly fall behind him.

It proved successful – the snow and wind both weakened before stopping completely. However, Soarin, noticing his proximity to Ponyville, decided to take a slight detour through a nearby forest. He hoped that his new path would allow him to sideswipe Ponyville, keeping him out of sight and out of mind of the locals.

Quickly getting into a rhythm, his muscles tinged appreciatively as he swooped and swerved between the green and brown shafts of trees. Content, Soarin began to hum again, a rough, yet harmonious tone vibrating from his lips.

“What are you doing?!” a curious and slightly high pitched voice asked.

The sound came out of left field. Instinctively pitching his right wing down and his left wing up, he threw his body weight to the right – forcing him into a barrel roll. Huffing slightly, eyes narrowed and darting around, he tried to identify the speaker of the voice. Only the greens of conifer trees and browns of dirt and twigs met his gaze.

“Wait,” the voice swiftly rose in pitch as its obvious excitement grew, “are you a Wonderbolt?”

Soarin flapped his wings and rose into the air, hoping that his increased height would help his search. However, upon doing so, his updraft caused a large volume of snow to cascade from a nearby tree onto the forest floor below.

Quite impressed by the size of his mini-avalanche Soarin chucked to himself with a shake of his head. He did not expect the bout of coughing that answered back. Wings snapping to attention, he narrowed his eyes as he examined the heap of fallen white powder; there was a blob of orange intermixed in the pile. Confused, he watched, eyebrows raised, as the orange blob stirred. A pair of wings appeared. And soon after, a small head emerged from the snow with purple eyes and a pinkish purple mane. It was a filly.

Landing on a nearby branch, Soarin folded his wings, a peculiar expression drawn on his face. “Uh kid, are you sure it’s a good idea to be out here right now?”

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” she asked, small wings twitching as her eyes widened.

“Uh… because it’s, you know, cold?” he said, a frown forming on his features.

“It’s not that cold. Actually it…” a cough interrupted her and she lifted up one of her hoofs to cover her mouth; her ribs visibly discernable. Recovering, the filly continued speaking, eyes alight with excitement, “You never did answer my question, are you Wonderbolt!?”

“Uh, the suit and goggles point to a yes, kid.” Normally he wouldn’t be so sharp with a filly, but he had been flying for over nine hours today. His wing muscles were starting to ache and his nose was burning from the cold.

“I thought so.” Her eyes drifted between his wings and nose, “Looking at your colors, you must be Soarin.” The fillies gaze snapped toward his mane and a smirk grew on her face. “It is true! You do have a long mane like a mare,” the filly started laughing, intermixed with light coughing. “That must mean that your team really does make fun of you.”

Soarin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He had no idea where ponies heard all this stuff. Seeing the filly open her mouth up to continue, he quickly cut her off, “well there is a big storm heading this way, so you might want to get to some shelter before it gets here.”

“Ok, I’ll go home soon. Can I get your autograph?”

By now he could hear the chattering of her teeth. “Sorry kid, I don’t have anything to sign and I’m in a bit of a hurry,” he sighed, “maybe next time?”

“Sure!” The kid hadn’t lost a single speck of her enthusiasm.

He took to the air and with a backward glance noticed the orange pony was still watching him. He saw her lift up one of her front hooves and heard another series of coughs come from the cute little pegasus.

As he disappeared into the cloud covered sky he hoped she would go home soon. That coughing sounded wet.

As he slowly cruised toward Canterlot, Soarin couldn’t shake the feeling of unease from his body. Leaving a filly all alone by herself in the woods didn’t seem like something an intelligent pony would do. Add in the cold and it seemed foalish. And that didn’t even mention the incoming storm; it seemed like something even a diamond dog wouldn’t do.

But, she did say that she was going to go home as soon as possible… It was the only justification he could come up with. Unfortunately, the excuse was weaker than a fly in a hurricane.

Spitfire had always told Soarin that he was too quick to jump into things without thinking, that he was too rash and impatient. The rest of the team had viewed it as a joke and had often invoked harmless bantering; Spitfire had never joined in – not even once.

Or course, Spitfire and Soarin had been close ever since they first met one another. Even so, she was hardly what he would have considered a friend. Instead, being almost a decade older, she had filled the roll of mentor much better. Always supportive, she had helped fill a void that his family was unable to. That didn’t mean that she had been nice; she had a temper worse than any dragon, gryphon or overprotective mother. Although, once angered, she had never resorted to cheap insults, with one exception.

And they had never been as close since.

A snowflake landed on his nose and jarred Soarin out of his thoughts. He slowed to a stop and hovered in place. The storm had caught back up with him; the wind and the snow was already picking up. Turning his head, he glanced in the direction he had come from. A white sheet was all that was visible, a canvas, waiting for an artist to draw upon its service. It was impossible to even make out any of the trees from earlier.

Sighing deeply, Soarin adjusted his feathers and pitched his wings. If something happens to her that I could have prevented, I’ll never forgive myself. Better to check and see if she is still there. If not, well… I’ll just have to assume for the best.

Even Spitfire’s punishments were preferable to Soarin’s current situation. The snow was so thick that it had already accumulated a hoof more. Not only that, but with the wind, Soarin felt like he was lost in a massive washing machine, white snowflakes swirling around erratically and in massive quantities. It was so bad, that keeping a sense of direction was impossible; getting lost was all but guaranteed. It was more of a question if he could find his way out when the time came.

Shivering, he forced his wings to continue to pump up and down. Thankfully, his uniform was enchanted to not get wet, which would drastically help with the cold. His goggles kept the snow out of his eyes, but Soarin still narrowed them as he attempted to fly in a straight line. Moving through the air like a drunken fool, he began to wonder if it was even possible to find the filly in the current conditions. If she has already left the forest then I will never find her. If she hasn’t… I will still likely never find her. Soarin sighed heavily. Maybe it’s best if I just worry…

A large reverberating smack echoed throughout the forest, quickly muffled by the howling of the wind.

Soarin rarely, if ever, crashed; his style of flight focused more on control rather than speed or endurance. And that was the forth tree he had hit, in the last fifteen minutes. Luckily – and ironically – his nose had already lost most of its feeling since his suit didn’t cover it.

Soarin shakily rose from the ground. Gaze darting around the area, he let out a stream of vulgar curses. Noticing that the wind was slightly more subdued near the forest floor, Soarin decided to continue his sweep there. Spreading his wings he pushed off from the ground. Gliding through the air he tried to keep his wits about him, but as more time passed he grew more concerned. He knew that if he didn’t get out of the cold soon he would start having his own problems.

Noticing a dark shape through the blizzard he pitched his wings to the right and headed towards it. Cautiously landing close by, the silhouette proved to be a building. I must be on the outskirts of Ponyville. Examining closer, the building was simple in both shape and design. It was a home, but while not boarded up, the windows had a faint coat of dust on the inside.

Carefully controlling his wings, Soarin slowly moved toward the leeward side of the building. He let out a large sigh of relief; with no wind it was considerably warmer on this side of the building. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath to revitalize his systems. He also perked his ears and tried to listen to the area around him. Sadly, he wasn’t able to discern anything from the howling of the wind and the whipping of tree branches. Opening his eyes with a disappointed groan, it became apparent to him that finding the filly in this type of weather was going to be next to impossible. Now was time to focus on his well being.

Realizing that it would be best to say the night at Ponyville Soarin took a minute to collect his thoughts. He was rubbing his chin with a hoof when he suddenly snarled viciously. The pie convention in Canterlot! I’m going to miss it!

Letting out a neigh of annoyance, Soarin started to take off and locate the nearest inn, resort hotel, or whatever this backwash town had available. However, as he was leaving a disturbance caught his eye; the snow near him was clearing indented, as thought somepony had been lying there recently. The size of the depression pointed to somepony much smaller than Soarin himself.

It was the perfect size for a filly.

Next to the pony shape there was another depression in the snow; irregularly shaped, the depression had a longer thinner part and something that looked like wheels. The best guess would be a wagon or cart of some kind, but it looked much too small for that.

Eyes snapping up, Soarin quickly scanned the area. There were hoof tracks leading away from the safety of the building, but they quickly became unrecognizable due to the weather. There was also a long imprint in the snow following parallel to the tracks, as if somepony had dragged something along with them. The hoof marks were irregular and bundled up in small groups.

Mind racing, Soarin quickly followed the tracks, but due to their small size he was unable to go far. Fortunately, the unknown object was more useful and he was able to follow those tracks for another few steps before the blizzard swallowed their existence. Pausing, the Wonderbolt perked up. All around him was white; it was similar to flying through a cloud. Even the building had disappeared from view.

In a situation like this, all I can do is assume, Soarin tried to reassure himself. Hopefully the area is fairly open. That would mean that the filly likely went in a straight line to get to her destination faster.

Taking a few steps back, he bowed his head and started forward. When the tracks became one with the fresh powder, Soarin merely pushed on, using his own markings to try and keep on the same heading.

“Anypony there?!” he called out into the wind. Unfortunately, it was a futile effort. The wind muffled his speech to such a degree, that anypony more than a wing or two away would have difficultly hearing it.

Soarin focused on lifting one hoof and placing the other. The snow was thick enough that even walking was a tiring exercise, so he focused on his breathing. By keeping it in quiet rhythm, he was able to keep both his muscles and nerves in check. He debated about taking to the air, but decided that it would be easier to tell if the tracks reappeared from the ground.

After a few minutes the elevation suddenly dropped slightly. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his muscles to work harder as he progressed through the slightly deeper snow. After a few strides Soarin felt his left hoof shoot out from under the snow. Quickly switching his weight to his other three limbs, Soarin bent down to discover what cause his slip up. With his front hooves, Soarin swept away some snow; there was ice underneath it.

Backing up slightly, Soarin stood up and examined his surroundings. It was difficult to discern anything about the area due to the white sheet that draped over the world. However, it was obviously a trench or canal or some sort. The snow laid flat over the center of the trench as there was little to no vegetation. The edges were a different story; the snow was chaotic, interfering with all manners of flora and rocks.

I have a choice to make here. Do I follow the trench…likely a river? Or do I continue on my old path? Soarin’s wings were fluttering slightly as he thought; eyes closed, he was concentrating deeply.

Making his decision, Soarin stretched his wings, tail and hooves before setting out. He steeled his nerves, bit his lower lip and pressed onward, following the streambed.

Soarin increased his speed to a trot. It caused his muscles to burn and protest, but the discomfort halted some of his anxiety. Not long after starting on his new heading, he saw something that put a bounce back into his step; the same elongated imprints that he followed earlier.

A goofy, yet satisfied, grin appeared on Soarin’s face and he perked his ears up, hoping to hear something intermixed with the wind. Following the, increasingly noticeable, tracks he moved even faster than before, ignoring any protest that his body was sending him. In the distance he was able to make out the outline of a bridge. As he approached, he observed that it was an old stone arch bridge, easily large enough for a wagon to travel across. He could also make out something orange lying underneath it.

Smile spreading further across his face; he couldn’t stop the chuckle that rose to his mouth. As he entered the shelter of the bride his smile quickly turned to horror. The filly was there, a light dusting of snow on her features, tail fluttering in the wind. She reminded Soarin of abandoned statue, lost and forgotten; she wasn’t moving.

She was dead.

I’m too late. Shaking his head Soarin berated himself, Stop! You can’t think like that. You don’t know for sure…

Reaching out, he gently shifted the limp figure onto her back and moved a hoof above her snout. Nothing. Ether she wasn’t breathing, or there was simply too much interference for him to distinguish between her breaths and the wind. Moving his head onto her chest, he closed his eyes, held his breath, and tried to steady himself. The heart was still beating.

Raising his head over her chest Soarin briefly looked around. It was like a sea of flawless white. The scene was almost ethereal in nature, the harsh reality of possible death almost forgotten in its exquisite beauty and dreamlike state.

Briefly closing his eyes, Soarin took a deep calming breath. “Okay, it’s go time,” he often spoke out loud in situations like this; it helped keep negative thoughts at bay. Soarin’s voice was also noticed by the filly, as she shifted slightly and gradually opened her eyes. The purple irises shifted their focused onto the snow covered flier.

“Are you an angel?” The exhausted voice of the filly sounded disturbingly peaceful.

An angel? Do I really look like one? Thinking quickly, he decided that it was better to simply agree with what the filly had said. “Ya, I’m here now so don’t worry, I’m watching over you.”

“Dad said angels don’t exist. Mom says he’s wrong.”

The fragile voice was stuttering badly, Soarin could barely make out the words she was saying. He found it much simpler to just agree, “That’s right.” Looking down at the filly he saw her eyes start to close. “No, you have to stay awake or I can’t work my magic.”

“You have magic?” A bit more enthusiastic this time, still deathly quiet, but at least he could make out the words, even with the wind.

“Of course I do, all angels have magic.” To be honest, he knew next to nothing about the theology of angles, he was simply trying to keep the filly talking and therefore awake.

“You’re an angel?”

Upon hearing that, Soarin felt a buildup of panic. He wasn’t sure if short term memory loss was a symptom of hypothermia. He rattled his brains, but was unable to remember anything of the sort.

Even so, Soarin knew that the filly needed to get out of the snow, right now.

Soarin was never what somepony would consider smart, but he did react better than most to extreme situations; they just never seemed to faze him like they would others. It was for this reason that he was often chosen when the team had to do rescue missions. In fact, while Soarin was far from the fastest or cleverest of his comrades, he had one of the best success rates in Wonderbolt history when it came to this type of mission. In his five years of service and over a hundred cases, twenty of which were critical, he had only ever failed once. While this was not technically a mission, someponies life was in danger and he would do everything he could to succeed.

Bending down, he made sure to carefully pick up the filly; she was drifting back out of consciousness so Soarin decided to keep the conversation going. “So what do you want to do when you grow up?”

He quickly settled the filly onto his back with her facing forward. It would be difficult enough to hear her when they were out in the wind, but with her mouth close to his ears he hoped it would be possible. Preparing to move out, he folded his wings in an awkward position over his back to give the filly as much protection from elements as possible. It was uncomfortable and a little painful, but he was fine with that.

“I want to be like Rainbow Dash.” The filly’s voice seemed to perk up. The name seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. The good news was that her long term memory seemed intact.

Moving out from under the bridge and back into the full force of the storm, Soarin’s mind quickly went to work. Going back to the house earlier would be an option, but this bridge was built for a reason. There must be a road connected to it and ponies use roads so…

“Oh and who is this Rainbow Dash?” Soarin replied curiously. He climbed to the top of the bridge. Kneeling down, he brushed off some snow with his front hooves; shaped cobblestone lined the edge of the road. Hopefully this would be enough to have caused disruptions when the snow landed on the ground.

“The best flier in Equestria, she can even perform a sonic rainboom.” Hearing the filly speak again caused him to pause for a second. It was difficult but at least he could make her out, even with the powerful wind – thankfully not yet a gale.

“I thought the sonic rainboom was just a complete myth?” naturally Soarin knew this wasn’t true, but it seemed a good direction to take the conversation.

Moving forward with narrowed eyes, Soarin was able to keep track of the road. The snow was indeed lying funny due to the rocks bordering the edge, which made it easier.

“Pft, Rainbow Dash is so amazing that even if something was a myth it wouldn’t be for much longer with her around.”

Not even a second later, Soarin’s eyes lit up in excitement and his tail stood on end; he had found what he was looking for: a sharp turn in the path. Quickly turning up the cut in the road, he prayed that it would lead to a building of some kind.

“What about the myth that Princess Celestia turned water into grape juice to impress the ancient draconians? Can Rainbow Dash do that?” A silhouette of something large appeared near the end of the path.

“Rainbow Dash wouldn’t do something lame like that, na she would turn it into punch, pie and some super cool stunts. And ice cream, she would never for…” Unfortunately, a series of vicious coughs broke up the filly’s speech.

Hearing the word pie made his stomach ache, he had burned a lot of energy and could really use a pie or three right now. Keeping his eyes focused on his target, he reached a yellowish wooden house. The filly was still coughing. Fearing the worst he quickly knocked on the door, while shouting, “We need help right now! Anypony there?!”

Impatiently, he waited as he heard what sounded like hooves approaching the door. Noting the hesitation and hearing them pause he anxiously called out, “This filly is going to die if you don’t open this door right now!” Not the wisest thing to say when the filly could still hear him, but he needed them to get inside immediately.

The door started to slowly creak open. Feeling he had waited long enough, he quickly pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped passed the startled cream colored mare into the house. The room had a very basic feeling to it. There was all the standard furniture that one would expect in a home, but besides the usual personal items the room hosted an excessive amount of celebrity magazines and a lyre propped up in the corner. He spotted a mint colored unicorn mare looking at him suspiciously from across the room. She had yellow eyes, with a light blue and white mane and tail, both of which were unkempt. There was also a lyre cutie mark on her flank.

Well that explains one thing.

Hearing the door close, Soarin quickly launched into explanation, “I found this filly outside in the storm. She needs help right now.”

The mint colored mare’s shoulders relaxed and her gaze softened. “We got blankets and stuff, what do you need?”

Soarin’s goggles had started to fog up, so he took them off before replying, “Uh, I thought we only had to, you know, get her warmer.”

There was a period of very uncomfortable silence. “You think?” was the sarcastic reply from the mint colored unicorn. “Isn’t it your job to know what to do when stuff like this happens?”

“I’m a combat and rescue pilot, not a doctor. I can’t remember what you’re supposed to do for hypothermia.” Shivering and ears drooping he continued, “I’m sorry, I’m doing the best I can.”

The mint colored mare’s posture didn’t change, but her expression softened. She opened her mouth when a voice spoke up from behind, “Oh please don’t fret Soarin, I will take care of the little filly. Simply be a dear and place her on the bed in my room please.”

Glancing over his shoulder, the cream colored earth pony was regally walking toward them. Her cutie mark was three pieces of candy, colored with the same teal shade as her eyes. Both her mane and tail were navy blue and pink, stylized to curl slightly.

As she walked through the room she was glaring at the mint colored mare. It wasn’t exactly hostile, but it wasn’t warm either, more annoyed and degrading, similar to an older sibling forced to deal with a younger one. Soarin had no idea what relationship these two ponies experienced: friends, partners, family or simple roommates.

The mint colored unicorn sneered at the other pony before speaking. “Oh and you know how to treat hypothermia Bon Bon?”

Bon Bon’s expression falsely warmed, like a filly divulging a personal secret. “Of course I do, my mother was a nurse, I grew up around this stuff.”

“You… you did?” The voice of the unicorn was stumbling slightly, a shocked expression morphed on her face.

“Yes, now help me…” Bon Bon looked at the filly on Soarin’s back and yelped with recognition, “Scootaloo! Oh how awful, bring her to my bed please. Lyra could you fetch some blankets please.” Lyra nodded her head and charged up her horn. Some blankets came floating from the nearby hallway closet. However, beads of sweat were forming on her forehead and her breathing was slightly heavier.

“You know her?” Soarin was honestly surprised; it was easy to forget how small a town like Ponyville was when he had only lived in larger cities.

Bon Bon was busy trying to get Scootaloo settled in, so Lyra answered him, “Kinda, she goes around with these other two fillies, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Bell and they cause a whole hoof-full of trouble.” Lyra chuckled with a reminiscence glance at the bed ridden Pegasus. “Everyone around here knows about those three.”

Lyra moved forward and observed over Bon Bon shoulder. The earth mare was wrapping the little filly up in blankets when Lyra spoke, one again, “At least she’s not shivering anymore.”

“When hypothermia gets extremely severe, the body will stop shivering to conserve energy. This means that we have no idea if she is actually getting better. The best we can do is make sure that she is warm enough. Now we have a couple of important things to do. See her hooves?” Bon Bon lifted up one of Scootaloo’s hooves, which Soarin noticed had a bluish tint beneath her orange fur. He recognized it immediately.

“Frostbite” Apparently Lyra did to.

“Correct, now the best way to deal with frostbite is to submerge the limbs in lukewarm water, not any hotter than room temperature. However, since Scootaloo has it on all four limbs I think the best thing to do is to douse some towels and wrap them around the hooves.”

Bon Bon’s words caused a wave of relief to spread over Soarin. She knew how to handle the situation; the filly was going to be just fine. For the first time in a few hours he felt a true smile grow on his face. Thank Celestia everything worked out. Now all I need is some… okay, a lot of food.

After settling in Scootaloo, Bon Bon had tried to get Soarin to remove his uniform, stating that wearing wet clothes was bad for hypothermia. He had explained that it was enchanted to stay dry and that he was quite comfortable. The glare that he had received told him that she thought otherwise. He held his ground and eventually she had given him a blanket and told him to warm up by the fire.

Soarin had followed her advice and after a few minutes Bon Bon had joined him. She said that Lyra was going to watch Scootaloo for a while. Then she had started talking, and talking; ten minutes went by and she was still going.

“According to Filly’s Dream Oracle you like golden manes and tails the best because they remind you of the beauty of the sunrise,” Bon Bon said with a calculating expression on her face. “But what I want to know is what you think of pink?”

Bon Bon smirked and moved a hoof through her mane. “I can dye it for you if you like. But the navy blue stays, it matches your mane and would look wonderful” She tilted her head slightly to the left with an affectionate smile. It was very cute and Soarin could not help the color that rose to his checks.

Deciding it was best to switch the topic of conversation, Soarin quickly said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you and your friend don’t get along too well.” After hearing his own words the Wonderbolt winced at his tack. Holding his breath, he prepared for her response.

“I’m so sorry about our behavior earlier, we are normally fairly good friends but due to… complications, things have been tense between us.” Soarin exhaled in relief, glad that his question hadn’t angered or upset the mare. Instead, her words had been sweat, and Bon Bon was slowing inching closer and closer to the esteemed celebrity.

“I think you’re aiming out of your league there Bonny B,” was Lyra's exasperated response from the door next to Scootaloo’s room. Bon Bon quickly turned to face her friend.

“Out of my league!” Bon Bon reared back, scandalized. “How preposterous, are you instituting that I am not pretty enough? Or perhaps not well behaved or smart enough? And you think you are any better? Don’t make me laugh; you wouldn’t know a pedicure from a ponicure. And don’t call me Bonny B, Heartstrings!”

Regrettably for Bon Bon, all her tirade caused was for Lyra to roll her eyes and rebuttal in a flat, monotonic voice. “All I am instituting is that you aim big, but fall short.”

Leaning forward, Bon Bon grabbed one of Soarin's front hooves and, with tears glistening in her teal eyes, said “Oh Soarin, tell her that she’s wrong. I’m beautiful right?” Bon Bon paused, all tears vanishing at once. “At least prettier than her,” she said jabbing a hoof toward her friend.

Soarin sat there, flabbergasted. What in the hay do I do? I don’t want to hurt Bon Bon’s feelings… but I also don’t want to give the wrong impression. Looking around, he noticed that even Lyra was watching him with curiosity glinting in her eyes. Just like that one time with High Winds when she… no Soarin bad memories, don’t go there. Moving his gaze back to Bon Bon, her smile was starting to fall; he was out of time. Taking a deep breath he opened his mouth, “Oh you…”

Suddenly, a procession of ailing coughing interrupted the discussion. “Look, this is cute and all but I think Scootaloo should be our priority right now,” Lyra remarked with a disappointed look at Bon Bon.

Oh sweet Celestia, thank you, thank you! He wasn’t happy that the filly was sick, but at least she had saved him from the awkward moment. As warm sweet relief washed over him, like a tide, he reminded himself to thank the filly at a later date.

“She should be fine, she’s awake and, as long as we can keep her warm, she should recover.” Bon Bon’s face was crimpled in confusion.

“I was just in there watching her when she started coughing again. Only this time, I noticed that something was coming out. She was coughing up blood. Now I might not be a doctor, but I’m pretty sure that is not a symptom of hypothermia. Unless you wish to inform me otherwise?” Lyra said sarcasm and concern rolling off her in waves.

In an instant, the balloon of calm and relief was punctured. Instead, Soarin felt cold dread fill the void.

Bon Bon hesitated; raising a hoof to her chin, she slightly narrowed her eyes. “I can’t recall anything about hypothermia causing something like that, but I am not professionally trained so…” She was obviously deep in thought. “Was the blood extremely clear coming up or did it look bubbly?”

“Seemed clear to me, deep scarlet red to.”

“I guess it’s best if I take a look at this.” Bon Bon sighed, clearly crestfallen. Soarin figured it was best not to ask questions and followed her though the hallway into the adjacent room.

Scootaloo currently inhabited Bon Bon’s room. Soarin hadn’t been able to get a good look around before, but was able to examine it easier now. The walls were a smooth navy blue and the carpet was a fluffy magenta. There were a few paintings scattered on the walls and a walk-in closet on the far side. The young pegasus was residing in a queen sized bed, framed by rose wood; a moderately sized window was located above the head of the bed frame.

Soarin looked over at Bon Bon and Lyra who were arguing about something. Ignoring the two squabbling mares, he moved closer to the bedside. He was surprised to hear a muffled whisper come from the bedridden pegasus.

Unfortunately, Lyra and Bon Bon were making too much noise, so he couldn’t determine what the filly said. However, the two mares evidently heard her as well and they both quickly quieted down. Bon Bon was doing some sort of analysis that he had no idea of and Lyra was standing on her back two hoofs with the front two crossed. It was a peculiar expression, one that he had never seen before.

He liked it immediately.

“Every time I see you two together you always seem so happy, why are you fighting?” The voice of the filly was still extremely reserved, but it did seem to hold more life than before.

Bon Bon continued with her analysis, but responded with a warm mothering smile on her face, “Oh sweetie we were not fighting, we were merely…”

“Fighting” was Lyra’s quick interruption. Scootaloo’s smile grew and a chuckle fell out of her lips that morphed into a cough. More blood landed on the pillow. Throwing a glare toward Lyra, Bon Bon continued with her work.

Feeling like a third wing Soarin merely listened in as the proceedings progressed.

“I feel really cold, Bon Bon…”

“It’s okay sweetie I’m watching over you, don’t worry.”

“And if she messes up, I’m always here to cover for you kid.” Lyra had a full blown smirk at this point, and Scootaloo seemed to try and smile, but was unable to sustain it for more than an instant.

“I want you to tell me how you are feeling, does your throat hurt? Any chest pains?” Bon Bon’s voice was a songbird: fluttering and sweet – nectar for the ears, but not without underlying intention.

“Just cold. Really, really cold…” The orange pegasus looked miserable. “I can’t feel my hoofs, and it’s really hard to breath.” Soarin heard her try to take a deep breath, but her wheezing turned into coughing and more blood came out.

Something about the situation made Soarin fidgety and nervous. It wasn’t the blood; he was used to blood. Instead, the scene carried a semblance of familiarity, like an old experience. Laying down and using his front hooves to block his sight, he closed his eyes and tried to think.

Think, think! What has symptoms like this? Nothing came to mind. Come on! You might be stupid, but you’re smart enough to remember this! Unfortunately for the pegasus, memorization had never been his strong suit. He listened to Lyra and Bon Bon talk to the filly for a few minutes; she had yet to respond again.

Sighing, he got up; there was no point to remaining on the floor, he was not going to remember. Looking over to the small purple eyed filly, Soarin watched her for a few moments. She didn’t look peaceful, she didn’t look happy. She looked hurt, confused, cold and tired. Her ears were sagging and her eyes seemed heavy. Soarin couldn’t see her wings under the blankets, but he was sure that if he could they would be drooping. Suddenly, the filly’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she completely collapsed.

The memory hit Soarin harder than a train would.

“Scoots are you okay?” Bon Bon’s voice broke Soarin out of his trance and he immediately leaped forward and pushed the cream-colored earth pony out of the way. Bon Bon had a scandalized expression on her face, but her narrowed eyes soon shot open when she realized that Soarin was holding his head over Scootaloo’s heart. Soarin sat there for a few moments before his fears were confirmed. Scootaloo’s heart wasn’t beating.

She had gone into cardiac arrest.

“I completely forgot!” Bon Bon's terrified voice rang out. “When hypothermia gets really bad, it's possible that the victim can go into cardiac arrest. It has something to do with cold blood circulating from the extremities into the heart...”

Soarin ignored her and was moving the covers off the filly. There were so many of them that he was not having an easy time of it and was quickly getting frustrated. As he worked he called out in a loud voice to interrupt their impromptu medic, “Do you know how to do C.P.R.?”

Silence.

Snarling he turned to the cream colored mare and asked, again, in a harsher voice, “Do you know how to do C.P.R.?”

She replied in no more than a whisper, “Kind of, but I’m not sure…” turning away, Soarin knew she was going to be no help. She was going into shock herself and glancing over at Lyra all he saw was a confused and horrified mare.

It was up to him. He had given CPR before, knowledge of the procedure was required for all Wonderbolts; luckily, he had done it often enough to be comfortable with the process. However, he had never given it to a filly before; he could only hope that it wasn’t too different.

Soarin was about to find out.

He quickly moved the filly to the floor so that he wouldn't be fighting against the compressibility of the bed. Moving into position, the stallion placed his two front hooves over her chest and took a calming breath. With calculated force, he pushed his hooves down.

Counting in his head, Soarin worked up to thirty repetitions. After thirty he quickly lifted the muzzle of the filly with hopes of opening her airway. Placing his head next to her mouth, he listened and watched her chest for movement.

No response.

He placed his mouth on the fillies' and made sure to completely cover the entire area. He had to keep her head tilted back so that the airway would remain open. He quickly turned his head to the side, took a deep breath, then turned back and exhaled. He watched her chest rise and fall. He tried again.

In and out, the chest rose and fell.

He tried again, thirty chest compressions, two deep breaths.

No response.

After four complete sets Scootaloo was still not breathing. Almost three minutes had passed; they were running out of time. Running through ideas in his mind he looked over and saw that Lyra was still standing there, looking nauseous and lost. But Lyra was a unicorn.

Like a full grown dragon had hit him full force, Soarin knew what he had to do. Quickly jumping from his position he rushed over to Lyra. She was still unresponsive and in shock. Putting his hooves on her, he forced her to look into his eyes. “Lyra, listen to me, where is your M.E.D.?”

No response.

Starting to lose his temper, Soarin opened his mouth and prepared to increase his volume but Lyra interrupted him, with no more than a whisper, “In the hallway closet…”

Immediately dashing out, he started to look for the device. An M.E.D. or Magically Enhanced Defibrillator was a device used to try and jump-start someone whose heart has stopped. Powered by magic, the invention was a major leap in technology. In fact, Princess Celestia was so impressed with the device, that she made owning one mandatory for every unicorn that passed through magical education.

Without delay, Soarin galloped into the hallway and headed straight for the closet. He threw the door open, paying no attention to the force used; the wood tore and snapped, as the door came off its hinges. With little regard, Soarin started digging and tossing objects around. After finding what he was searching for Soarin grabbed the device and immediately charged back to Scootaloo. He attached the two pads to her chest and connected the two cables correctly.

Scootaloo was up to almost four minutes with no response.

Quickly turning to Lyra he waved his hoof in his direction. Much to his surprise the unicorn approached him, although with hesitation.

“Listen to me Lyra. Right now every second counts. I’ve done everything I can do, but I need your help to save this filly’s life.” Soarin felt something wet drop down his check, “Please, things would have never gotten this far if I hadn’t been so stupid.” Lowering his head in shame he quickly tried to stifle any more tears; now was not the time.

Feeling a hoof on his chin Soarin glanced upward. Lyra looked nervous and scared, but said in a shaking voice, “Okay, just remind… tell me what to do.”

Straight to business, Soarin told her, “When I say clear, I want you to feed your magic into the machine, okay?” as he hooked up the cable to the end of her horn.

“How do I know how much to put in, flyboy?” she asked with some confidence rising in her voice.

Soarin stayed quiet for a second, “I have no idea, but we have to try. In 3…”

“2”

“But…” It was like someone opened the floodgates. Once again all of her confidence was gone, instead replaced with ice cold petrifying terror.

“1”

“WAIT!”

Soarin couldn’t wait, it was go time.

“CLEAR!”

He pressed the button that would allow for the magic to flow and turned to Lyra. Her horn was glowing and the machine sent out a shock, which jolted the filly. Looking down at the filly he saw her unmoving form; it was unsuccessful. Refocusing his attention on the exhausted mare, Soarin noticed her drooping posture and labored breathing.

“Lyra we only have one more shot at this. I need you to put in as much magic as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“But I’ve always been weak with magic, in school I could never…” Lyra was quickly deteriorating into pure panic. Her eyes were darting around, not focusing on anything and her heart rate was increasing; she was going to hyperventilate.

Soarin needed to take control of the situation now, before it got any worse. “LYRA! Look at me.” She turned and faced him with tears in her eyes. He said, in the calmest voice he could muster, “Relax, breath, in and out.” Upon seeing her comply, he added, “I know you can do this, I believe in you.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and signaled with a nod of her head.

“Clear in 3… 2… 1…”

“CLEAR!” Soarin watched this time as Lyra put her entire effort into it – sweat formed on her brow and her magic aura was much more pronounce. The shock jolted the filly and he looked expectantly down at her. This time when the tears came he didn’t try and stop them, but instead lowered his head into the floor and slowly started sobbing into the carpet. Staying like that for a moment to regain his composure, he raised his head, a smile blossoming on his tear stained face as he let out a chuckle.

The filly had started breathing again.

After the emergency, both Soarin and Lyra needed a breather so they both retreated to the living room to give Bon Bon time and space to work on Scootaloo. A few minutes passed in relative silence before Lyra finally spoke up, “How did you do it?”

The question woke Soarin out of his stupor, “What do you mean?”

“How were you able to keep yourself calm? I’ve never felt so weak before in my life, I hated it.” Lyra’s voice had regained some of its sarcasm, but the blade was still mostly dull.

Soarin honestly replied, “I’ve been trained, I simply do what I can and you can’t ask for anymore than that from anypony.”

“Well, if you would look in a mirror once in a while, maybe you will realize how amazing you really are because it’s not at all normal.” Apparently Lyra had a whetstone on hoof; her voice was rapidly regaining its edge.

Soarin shrugged his shoulders. “Meh, you can’t have met too many ponies than, I generally don’t get afraid. I find it much more impressive when somepony overcomes their fear and still does the right thing. Like yourself, for example.” A blush appeared on the mint colored mare.

“I disagree, that makes what you do even more amazing, because you don’t need a prompt.” Her voice was stuttering slightly.

Suddenly Bon Bon entered the room from the kitchen and set some food down on the table. “Now save some for me, I need to go check on Scootaloo real quick”

“YES, food!” Soarin immediately jumped out of his seat and surveyed the gold mine before him: half a dozen apples and a few pastries. Horse-apples! It’s only a snack.

“Hey flyboy, I was thinking…” Lyra, who still had a bit of color on her checks, was trying to get a word in, but Soarin wasn’t paying any attention to her. Instead he grabbed an apple in each hoof.

“Oh this apple is great, it's really fresh. You can’t get them like this in the city.”

“Soarin…” He was still oblivious to the increasingly frustrated mare.

“Well you can, but it costs like 50 bits an apple.” Finally with an aggravated snort, Lyra took a pastry and prepared to take a bite.

“Are you sure you should be eating that, all the carbs won’t help your figure.” Soarin had already finished both apples, having eaten them in one bite, core and all.

“Wait what?” Lyra dropped the pastry back onto the table with a look of disbelief crossing her face.

“Ya, you know, you’ll get fat. Oh let me try one” Soarin, faster than a striking snake, grabbed one of the pastries on the table and ate it in one bite. “Mhhhhhh, a bit too buttery, but oh well. You going to eat that?” he asked pointing at the pastry Lyra had discarded.

“So I can’t eat them, but you can?” Lyra’s left eye was starting to twitch and both narrowed dangerously.

“Yup, I don’t have to watch my figure because I’m a male…” Soarin suddenly noticed the danger he was in, the mare was red-faced and livid. “Pegasus! I’m a male pegasus and pegasus can eat a lot because…

“IS THAT SO!”

Too late, she had already started on her rant. Soarin reached for another apple.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, IF I CAN’T EAT, THEN YOU CAN’T EAT EITHER!”

The food disappeared. And to think, I thought they outlawed cruel and unusual punishment. He was trying to be helpful and thought about saying that – but after looking at the screaming mint colored unicorn decided better of it.

Soarin tuned her out; it wasn’t hard, not after years of experience with Spitfire. Resting his head against the couch he closed his eyes. A few minutes passed and Lyra was still going full force. He yawned, causing the mare’s volume to increase two fold.

Bon Bon came back into the room and said something to Lyra that calmed and quieted her down almost instantly.

Soarin opened his eyes and looked at Bon Bon in awe, “How did you do that? Is there an off switch or something? That was amazing!”

In retrospect, it was not one of his brightest moments.

It took another few minutes for Lyra to calm down and even after she had gone quiet, she was still shooting glares at the Wonderbolt every few seconds.

“I’m worried about Scootaloo, she is still coughing up blood and she was unconscious for a long time. I have no idea what is causing it and after my,” Bon Bon sniffled, “poor attempts it seems best that she go and get professional help.”

“By going out in that… Are you insane Bon Bon?” Lyra asked, while pointing to the rattling window, completely covered by a screen of white.

“It’s her only hope, she has been coughing up a lot of blood, it could be serious. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Sighing Soarin knew it was the right choice, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it. “I’ll take her, but I do not know the way.”

Soarin had spent the last next fifteen minutes going over the area between their current residence and the hospital. He had wanted to know every detail; in this type of visibility it could mean life or death. Luckily, Bon Bon had a map of the area and he had tried to commit as much of it to memory as possible. It wasn’t to scale, which caused some problems, but at least it had given him an idea of the town’s proportions.

Now, Soarin was getting ready to make his departure into the wild beyond. He was wearing a feminine saddle that Bon Bon had given him. They hoped that it would better hold Scootaloo, cocooned tightly in blankets, on his back. Soarin just hoped the straps on it would hold.

Bon Bon gave him a farewell kiss on the cheek. Whereas Lyra just glared, but he could see in her eyes that she was worried.

Walking to the front door and opening it, Soarin realized that it had gotten much colder after the time he had spent inside. The visibility was now so poor that he would be lucky to see his tail if he looked backwards.

As he stared out into the rampaging chaos of the storm, Soarin couldn’t help but think, oh Celestia why me?

It might have just been a whisper in the wind, but Soarin swore he heard a reply, “Would you have it any other way? If you could have chosen to ignore all the events that had happened tonight and gone to that pie conference would you feel refreshed, happy even? Or would you rather be out risking your life for somepony you don’t even know?” He thought that he could hear a chuckle, “No my little pony I think you are doing just what you know you must do.”

Sparing a glance back at the small broken filly on his back, he knew that the voice, real or not, was right. He would do anything to help somepony in need. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know them; it was the simple idea that he could and would help them that mattered. The idea that anypony he helped could go on to invent a new spell, become an actress or a professor was amazing. He merely gave them a chance and simply hearing about their accomplishments was sweeter than any pie could ever be.

And with that thought he steeled his nerves, smiled, and stepped out into the void, only to disappear completely from view in a few seconds time.

I:II Last Call for Hope

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The Solar Enigma

Book I

Chapter 2: Last Call for Hope

“Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.” – Helen Keller

Soarin was annoyed. Really annoyed. He had accidently left the map of Ponyville at the house he had recently vacated, and was not completely sure where he was going. He had a filly on his back that was probably going to die if she didn’t get help. And his appetite had yet to be sated. All in all, it was a fairly typical day of the chaos that was Soarin’s life.

Raising his head against the harsh wind, Soarin squinted his eyes. This road is easy enough to follow. The edges of pathways can guide me, I just need to go forward, pass seven buildings, hit the intersection and take a left. Then pass some more buildings and the hospital will be on the right. The only question is… was it eight or nine? Or was it ten?

Snorting angrily, Soarin watched the snow for a moment. It was coming down in torrents – density so thick it was more similar to pouring rain than flurrying snow. Briefly glancing backward, Soarin took a deep breath, prepared his muscles and marched forward. It was tough going, like walking through mud, but he managed all the same. Noting the walkways toward the buildings Soarin slowly counted in his head as he progressed up the road.

After passing the seventh walkway, Soarin paused raising a hoof to his chin. This should be the main street of Ponyville. Since the Hospital is on the right, I guess crossing the road would be a good idea. I can just keep going until I hit it, I shouldn’t need to know the exact number of buildings I pass. Soarin sighed. The problem is that this street doesn’t have an easy edge to follow. Maybe… If I cross the street and actually go up to the building and bounce directly from building to building... that would keep me in line and on track. Of course, that’ll only work if the buildings are in a straight line. But the map made it look like they were, so it seems like my best option.

Nodding his head, Soarin strode forward into the street. In the middle of crossing Soarin glanced around. It was surreal being in a place where everything was completely white. Even clouds had some discrepancies, but here, it was perfect flawless nothing. It was also getting dark, giving off a feeling of forbearing. It was almost like being on a sheet a paper; Soarin just hoped that the artist wouldn’t make things more difficult for him.

Continuing to push forward, Soarin forced his legs into a steady rhythm. He walked until, on his horizon, a blackish tint appeared, dirtying the immaculate white in the air. Cautiously stepping, with eyes narrowed, the anomaly morphed into a small wooden building in no time at all. A hint of smile appeared on his lips and Soarin started to put his plan into action. He kept one hoof on the side of the building as he moved left. Feeling the wall give way slightly, Soarin paused.

He was able to feel the filly’s breath on the back of his neck and mane. Glancing over his shoulder, Soarin tried to analysis the filly. Unfortunately, like a burrito, he was unable to see the insides and could only really see the outer blanket shell. She seemed fine.

Turning back around, Soarin pushed past the doorway. Keeping his hoof in contact he reached the end of the structure. Taking a deep breath, Soarin squared his shoulders and stepped out into the white void; with no knowledge of the area, he could only hope there was a building in front of him. It was a leap of faith.

Steeling his trembling nerves Soarin focused himself toward the next structure. And just like clockwork it was only a dozen steps away. Soarin breathed noisily before repeating the process, making sure to stop by the door of the following structure and check on the filly.

He repeated it again: three, four, seven times.

Suddenly, harsh wheezing interrupted his meticulous pace. It quickly turned into a few violent coughs and Soarin felt something wet land on his mane and neck. It had a coppery scent in the air – just like blood.

“Are you okay” Soarin paused and turned his head.

“Ya, but its cold. I just want to go inside.” The response was not as weak as it had been earlier, but there were still copious amounts of exhaustion laced in.

“Not too much longer, than I promise, everything will be better.” Soarin kept his voice as clear and confident as possible.

“Promise?” The voice of the filly was quiet and disbelieving.

“Of course, I never go back on my word.” Soarin perked his chest up as he spoke – words sparkling with confidence.

“But no pony ever really keeps their promises…” The voice was neither quiet nor naive. Rather, each and every word was spoken slowly, contemplation mixed with a haze of confusion.

Soarin felt his eyes narrow and his mind race. There is a story there, but now is not the time, nor the place. It’s amazing how coherent she still is though.

Stretching his neck out Soarin tried to ease out some of the stiffness he was feeling. Trying to ignore his increasingly sore and protesting muscles Soarin started the trek to the hospital again. Seven buildings became eight and eight became ten.

Reaching the end of the eleventh building in line Soarin paused, once again, for a minute. His expression no longer contained any trace of joy or satisfaction. Brows and eyes narrowed Soarin muttered incoherently under his breath. Body tensing up like a winding spring, Soarin fluttered his wings and tail out, trying to relax. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing – thinking of sun and summer, ice-cream and sundaes.

Before he could properly settle down, a voracious crack rang though out the area. Snapping like a rubber band Soarin jumped and scanned the area. Only to feel a torrent of snow hit him from above. Knees buckling, he fell to the ground, engulfed by the deluge of snow. Noticing how much warmer it was, Soarin momentarily debated staying buried, but reality caught up to him.

Instead, he stretched his wings, pushed the snow off and, with surprising difficulty, managed to stand back up. Shaking his body and flicking his tail, he managed to get most of the snow off of him. He turned his head around to look at the filly. She seemed a little shaken up by what had happened, but was mostly okay. However, the blankets were a different story. The snow had seeped into the cotton and in a few more minutes, at most, the blankets would be completely soaked.

Really? What are the chances? That was bucking stupid. Although, Soarin’s eyes turned toward a hoof sized branch that had fallen no more than a wing length away, it could have been much worse. Soarin neighed hollowly, almost like a sigh.

Now with a time limit, Soarin forced his muscles to work even harder than before. Not only was the filly soaked, but his mane and tail were also drenched and could cause problems. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes Soarin ignored the burning sensation his body was sending him, making him feel as though his veins were on fire, and pushed onward.

In critical situations time has a tendency to act abnormally. Sometimes it will speed up, and others it will slow down. However, blocking other senses can have a multiplicative affect. As Soarin pushed forward through the white sheet, his own senses were getting confused; he couldn’t see, the wind muffled his hearing and the cold was muting his feeling. To combat the unease and helplessness that he felt, Soarin started to do the most boring thing he could think of – counting.

With his eyes closed, and pain in his limbs, Soarin ignored them and focused on controlling his breathing and counting his steps. Even so, he had no idea whether ten minutes or ten seconds had passed. It was all becoming a mind-mumbling blur.

Luckily, it was at that time when his nose hit something much more solid than uncondensed snow. Snapping his eyes open, Soarin took in the large cobblestone pedestal located directly in front of him. It was mostly rectangular and made of marble. Glancing upwards he noticed a sign was resting above its base. Standing on his back legs and using a hoof to clear it off, Soarin saw a symbol etched onto it; a large red circle with a white cross and small pink hearts at the corners.

Soarin let out a breath of relief that he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Adrenaline helping numb his sore limbs Soarin walked from the back of the sign into the unknown, purpose and determination etched in his pose. Only ten paces later Soarin ran into a convoluted blob of snow intermixed with shadows of light gray that gave its distinction. Halting his steps and glancing out of the corner of his eyes Soarin thought he could make something out on the edge of his visibility. Trusting his convoluted senses he took a few tentative steps in that direction and soon yellow light started to seep into his sight. For a fleeting second Soarin thought that it was somehow the sun – regardless of the hour – before logic set in. Continuing his trek toward the rectangular projection of light, a black silhouette started to grow in front of Soarin and soon towered over the small flier.

Like a lightning strike had hit his brain the origin of the light became apparent. Smiling, Soarin started to hum a simple tune, spirits rising. Nearing the, now obvious, window Soarin started to work his way around the building. After what felt like no time at all, Soarin found himself standing in front of a large oak door. Filled with enthusiasm Soarin gave the doorframe a quick kiss – ebullient in success. It was the first time Soarin had kissed a doorframe in his life.

It wouldn’t be the last.

Snapping his eyes close after the blast of light that greeted him as he opened the door, Soarin took a moment to compose himself. Breathing deeply, a calm feeling washed over him and into his soul. Relaxed, he opened his eyes and moved forward. A white nurse sat at the front desk and was eying him with an interested expression. She was wearing a white nurse’s cap with the same symbol that was on the sign out front. Looking to his right he saw what appeared to be a waiting area. It had an assortment of large fluffy couches and engraved rosewood tables. A various assortment of magazines and books populated the surfaces. There was also a large wooden fireplace that had a roaring fire in place.

He also noticed that there was somepony…or something watching him over the edge of the couch. What in the hay is that? It looks almost like a young dragon… but why would one be here? The creature was purple with light green spikes and a darker green for the eyes. Soarin guessed that it was male, but it was difficult to tell just from the head. Facing the front desk Soarin moved toward it with newfound strength in his legs – a confident and refined trot.

Just then a unicorn walked into the room, looking for, Soarin assumed, the nurse. He was a yellowish tan and was wearing a white lab coat. He had blue eyes and was wearing a pair of thin-framed spectacles over his nose. Soarin wondered if he needed them, or wore them for cosmetic reasons. He also had a full brown mane and tail. He was obviously a doctor.

Soarin increased his pace and walked up to the doctor. “I need your help really bad,” he tried to say as he approached the unicorn. Unfortunately, he spoke too quickly and his speech came out as a garbled mess.

Hearing the commotion the doctor slowly turned toward Soarin, “I can’t understand you if you don’t speak like…” Eyes snapping toward Soarin’s back the doctor paused. “What’s with the saddle?” He was eyeing the small yellow butterflies that were on the saddles straps. His glance then shifted to Soarin’s long wet mane. “Ah, I see. Sorry, but I don’t know how to do sex change operations.”

It took a minute for his comment to sink into the tired flier. “WAIT, WHAT? NO!”

“Its okay, your secret is safe with me, Ma’am” The doctor mockingly patted Soarin’s shoulder with a hoof. “The nurses on the other hoof, might be a bit more difficult to keep to secrecy”

“… Look can you just help this filly, please? It’s serious.” Soarin was not in the mood to play games right now.

The doctor’s gaze moved to the bundle on Soarin’s back, “Certainly, Ma’am. Follow Nurse Redheart please, I will be with you momentarily.

Ignoring the vocal jab, he followed the white mare down the hallway. They passed a few other nurses and every time they would start giggling at the sight of the Wonderbolt. Redheart seemed to disapprove of their actions, but wasn’t voicing any protests. Soarin was used to attention so it really didn’t bother him too much, until one of the nurses called out, “The saddle is so cute Soarin, I can help you style your mane if you like!”

Momentarily, Soarin toyed with the idea of bashing his head against the wall and for a second it seemed like a really good idea. Unfortunately, common sense quickly caught up with him, so he settled for sighing in frustration instead.

The two ponies came to a standard medical room and walked inside. The room was painted mostly blue, but there was a band of brown near the bottom of the walls. The room had a very thin tan colored carpet and two beds, which were separated by a curtain that could be opened and closed for privacy. There weren’t many medical apparatuses in the room, only a few hanging on the walls behind the beds.

“Help me move her to the bed please.” Redheart had already started to undo the ropes that held the blankets and filly to Soarin’s back. Once the knots were undone, they quickly freed the filly from her cocoon and moved her to the bed. Now that it was no longer necessary, Soarin hastily removed the saddle from his back. He was not sad to see it go.

“So what happened?” Redheart asked with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Soarin explained what had transpired in the time since he had found the filly. His recollection didn’t seem to faze the nurse very much. As he finished his story he was surprised to be answered from behind, rather than from the nurse standing in front of him.

“Check her hoofs. It’s not good for the tissue to thaw and rapidly refreeze with frostbite.” Turning around, he noticed that the doctor he had seen earlier had arrived. Unsure of the unicorn’s name Soarin shot a quick glace at his nameplate.

Dr. Gregory Horse.

The doctor noticed Soarin’s gaze. “There will be time for introductions later, now move and let me do my job.” Not wanting to agitate the doctor, Soarin stepped out of the way and watched Dr. Horse approach the bed.

“There is definitely frostbite here, but it seems to have been well wrapped up during the transport. I don’t see any recent damage.” Nurse Redheart said while squinting at Scootaloo’s hooves.

The doctor, on the other side of the bed, lifted a hoof and stared at it for a minute. “It’s hard to tell, but I agree. Likely second degree frostbite, but again, it’s hard to tell.”

Curiosity and concern getting the better of him, Soarin spoke out, “Is that bad?”

Dr. Horse turned and glared at Soarin with very narrow eyes. Soarin, feeling like a berated child, felt his ears and tail droop automatically while waiting for a response. “I’ll…be quiet now”

“That’s a good idea. To answer your question, it’s not good but there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.” He turned to Redheart. “Now the best thing to do is simply keep them warm. The water should be set to slightly above the body temperature. The limbs should also start to get their color back and start to blister or swell. Now,” he faced toward Soarin again, “you said you tried to administer C.P.R. correct?”

“Yup”

“Better check and make sure her ribs are okay then.” The doctor moved the covers off the filly and felt around her chest area for a minute. After Dr. Horse was done he moved the blankets back into place. “It seems that they are fine. That only leaves the question of her hemoptysis. You said you remember it being clear and smooth right?” The doctor said with a pointed glance at Soarin.

“Ah, I’m not sure what that hemo-thingy is.”

Dr. Horse rolled his eyes. “It means she was coughing up blood.”

“Oh… ya, it was really clear, crimson red too. In fact she spit some out on my neck, it might still be there if you want to see.”

Dr. Horse sighed and started moving toward Soarin. “You really should clean foreign blood off your body as soon as possible. It’s not good to leave it there. But in this case it would be advantageous if I could see it. Could you lean forward?

Soarin, being tired, decided that it was best to simply lay down. Closing his eyes he waiting for the doctor to finish his inspection. However, Dr. Horse was quiet for at least a minute and feeling like a specimen under a microscope Soarin felt himself start to squirm around.

Finally, Dr. Horse’s brusque voice broke the silence like a rock in a pond, “The blood has started to dry up, but it’s very apparent that it was deep red and smooth.”

“So no pneumonia?” Redheart must be standing over him as well – the voice was close.

“That was my first guess as well, but if that was the case then the blood would be mixed with air and mucus, it’s much too clear for that.”

“So what caused it?” There was an edge of uncertainty in Redheart’s voice that made Soarin squirm even more.

“I have no idea. I need to run some tests and think about it.” Dr. Horse paused. “We no longer need your assistance soldier boy so it’s best if you go back and wait in the lobby. We’ll let you know when we find out more.”

Standing up Soarin threw one finally glace toward the bedridden pegasus, before he turned and left the room. As Soarin headed down the hall, he heard the filly go into another series of violent coughs.

They sounded worse than before.

Soarin found himself resting out in the lobby. Thankfully, the fire was still blazing, and helped warmed him up a bit. The dragon Soarin had noticed earlier was sitting on the couch directly across from the roaring inferno, who, Soarin could now tell, was definitely male. He was mostly purple with green spikes and similar tinted eyes. The dragon was obviously still young as he was only about a third of Soarin’s height.

“So how did she get like that?” The dragon was talking to him.

Lost in his thoughts Soarin responded stupidly, “Who?”

The dragon rolled his eyes and snorted. “Scootaloo, how did she get like that?” Soarin noticed that the dragon’s eyes started to narrow dangerously.

“She was outside in the storm. Why do you know her?”

“Ya and if I find out you did anything to her, you’ll have to answer to me.” Soarin didn’t find the protectiveness unusual. Dragons were known to be territorial and materialistic animals after all.

“Of course,” Soarin said with a neutral tone and nodded his affirmative.

The room fell into relative silence. Soarin himself was not usually reticent pony, but the endeavors of the day were finally taking their toll. The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling and snapping of the firewood, along with the ticks and tocs of the nearby grandfather clock. Watching the clock for a moment, it dawned on him that he had not been aware of how much time had passed.

It was 7:23

Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and tried to think to pass the time. He thought about anything he could: Mares, pies, Canterlot, the upcoming show in Cloudsdale, bribing Spitfire, anything that would hopefully keep his mind off of the filly. After what he was sure was at least a half hour, Soarin opened his eyes and looked back at the clock.

It was 7:24

“Ah, come on! That was only a minute! No way!”

He was answered by a loud cawing sound on the other side of the lobby. Quickly snapping his head around Soarin looked for what he assumed was a bird. Why in the world would a bird be in a hospital?

His examination proofed fruitful as he spied a moderately large bird. In fact, it looked to be almost as large as his draconian companion. Its plumage was black but seemed to shift colors slightly as the light in the room reflected off of it. Its legs and beak were both black as night and the bill was long and somewhat curved. There were shaggy feathers around the neck and its eyes were a piercing blue-gray. The avian creature also had a graduated fan shaped tail.

“Is that a raven?” Soarin asked to no one in particular.

“Yup,” the dragon surprised him by answering. It had been a rhetorical question, as Soarin had honestly put the dragon far out of his mind.

“What is a raven doing here?” Soarin’s brow was lopsided as he spoke.

“Not exactly sure, I asked earlier and Redheart said that the bird always comes here during the winter. Maybe it doesn’t want to migrate?”

“I thought ravens didn’t migrate.” Soarin wasn’t completely sure but he thought he heard it somewhere. Spitfire was always exuberant about birds of prey and was always going on about hawks and raptors. She even had a pet falcon called Pyre. Soarin assumed the fact was from her.

“I don’t know but I don’t see you coming up with anything better.” The dragon threw his hands up in the air in obvious frustration.

“Maybe it likes it here?”

The dragon snorted loudly and disdainfully. “It’s a hospital, why would it be happy here? What I don’t get is why they keep it around. Aren’t ravens supposed to be symbols of death or something? At least I think that’s what Twilight said.” The dragon paused before finishing, “Seems like a bad omen to keep in a hospital.”

Suddenly, the large bird opened its wings and glided through the air toward them. Soarin was impressed by the creature’s wingspan. It was almost as wide as he was long. Its wings also made an unusual creaking sound, not even remotely similar to what a pegasus’s would make while airborne. The bird landed on the couch directly behind Soarin and made more cawing noises. It almost sounded like laughter.

“His name is Daylight. I overheard Dr. Horse getting upset about him when he came in.” The dragon seemed fine with communicating with Soarin even though it was obvious he didn’t like the Wonderbolt.

Hoping that continuing a conversation would help ease the dragon’s feelings toward him, Soarin responded with the first thing to come to mind. “Dr. Horse is an interesting character.”

“He is on a pretty short fuse tonight. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but the storm came in so fast that he didn’t have time to go home.” The dragon lifted one of his clawed hands to his chin and appeared to be thinking. “Same thing happened to me actually.”

“Oh and why did you come to the hospital?”

“Stomach ache, ate too much candy.”

Suddenly, Soarin felt something heavy land on his back. Before he could deduce what it was he felt a sharp tug on his mane.

“OW!”

The dragon was laughing; Soarin didn’t see what was so funny. Twisting his head, he saw that the raven was the culprit in his plight. Apparently the black animal didn’t approve of the condition that Soarin’s, now dry, mane was in. It had started preening it.

“OW!” He started wiggling and briefly debated about trying to buck the bird off. Thinking of the talons the bird bore, he decided that he would rather not have them clamp down on his back. Instead he increased his futile squirming.

“Looks like the nurses have some competition.” Spike had a full-blown smile on his face, almost as if somepony had smashed a water balloon filled with joy on it.

The dragon’s voice caused Soarin to stop his struggling. He quickly noticed that once he stopped moving the bird’s work had become more pliable. “You heard that?” There was a tint of apprehension in his voice.

“Everyone heard that, the saddle was pretty girly you know. I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.”

Not deeming the comment worthy of a response, Soarin kept his mouth shut. He really was not in the mood to be dealing with his apparent feminism. The bird was still yanking his mane, and causing the Wonderbolt to wince every few minutes.

Bored, Soarin decided to try and continue the conversation. “You know I never did get your name. It would be nice to call you something other than little purple dragon.”

“I’m not little.”

“My apologies, all mighty one,” Soarin said without a hint of sarcasm.

“Better. The names Spike though.” He held out his clawed hand. Soarin answered with his front hoof.

“Soarin” They shock appendages.

“Ya, the Wonderbolt. Dash talks about you all the time.” Spike seemed only partially impressed with this.

“Dash?” The name was really familiar. Maybe it was the same pony that the filly had been talking about earlier?

“Rainbow Dash, a good friend of mine. She really looks up to you guys so you better not disappoint her, you hear me?”

Most dragons are possessive animals. Some like to collect hordes of treasure, or control vast amounts of territory. Apparently, Spike’s calling was to collect groups of friends. When dragons felt that their valuables were threatened they could act quite illogical. Since Soarin didn’t know this dragon very well, he decided that it was best to simply change the topic. Try and steer it away from dangerous winds.

“So you had a stomach ache? The hospital seems slightly overkill.”

The purple dragon rolled his eyes. “That’s what I said, but Twilight didn’t listen to me, she is such a worrier sometimes.”

“Twilight?”

“Twilight Sparkle, the personal student of Princess Celestial. I’m her number one assistant.”

Soarin knew that the name had sounded familiar. “The element of magic?”

“…How did you know that?” Spikes voice was slightly strained and troubled.

Soarin deduced that the unicorn must not tell many ponies about her status. Seemed slightly weird to him personally, since most ponies knew she defeated Nightmare Moon and Discord. “The Wonderbolts are a high end military organization. We were informed of the elements of harmony during Nightmare Moon’s return.”

“The Wonderbolts are part of the military?” An astonished look passed over his face. “I just thought they were a group of professional stunt fliers…”

“Nope, we do the shows to try and keep into shape during down periods. It also helps create some revenue, since military funding in Equestria is not the easiest thing to come by.” The dragon still wore a stunned expression. “Don’t think about it too much, it’s a common mistake.”

“Oh…”

“In fact I believe a squad came near here fairly recently. Some dragon attack or something. I didn’t hear about it till after the fact but Spitfire was pissed about their apparent failure. Said they were a total embarrassment to the organization. You know anything about that?”

Spike had gone really pale, and replied in a shaking voice, “No, nope didn’t know anything like that happened.” He started teething his claws in a bout of nervousness. “And if it really did happen, I was in no way a part of it.”

Soarin wasn’t sure what was making the dragon uncomfortable, but he amused himself with the idea that this little guy is what gave his comrades so much trouble. Spitfire had droned on repeatedly about how the event was an example of getting overconfident and doing something stupid. Soarin had paid little attention.

A period of tedious silence followed. Nothing could be really heard save for the tic and tock of the clock.

Bored and looking for something to pass the time, Soarin asked the dragon, “So I’m wondering…if Ms. Sparkle worries so much, why did she leave you here?”

“Twilight can get so wrapped up in her studying that she completely omits everything else that happens around her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t know there was a blizzard outside.”

“…Seems a bit extreme.”

“It is a extreme, although it’s been much worse as of late. Something has her spooked. She got this letter from Princess Luna not too long ago, which in itself is kinda surprising. But ever since then…” He suddenly paused, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t even know you.”

“I’ve been told I’m easy to talk to. Its all cool though, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

The raven had stopped molesting Soarin’s mane but was still perched on his back. It was a big bird, but as long as it didn’t fidget much or attack him he was fine with it staying there. As he watched Spike, Soarin felt the bird’s talons moving on his back; it seemed to be turning around.

“Ever since the letter she has been hiding away more and keeping secrets.” The dragon’s voice held strange conviction, as though happy to get something off his chest. “She is getting really anxious about something and I have no idea what it is. Normally, when something like this happens she freaks out, does something stupid and it’s over. This time feels different; I just don’t know what to do to help her.”

Soarin had never met Twilight Sparkle before. He had seen her in Canterlot before, but did not really know much about the unicorn mare. He wasn’t exactly sure the best way for Spike to deal with his apparent problem. It was possible that there wasn’t even an issue. Sometimes children have a way of over exaggerating nothing.

Unfortunately for Soarin, he felt a sharp tug at his tail. It seemed that the raven was dissatisfied with its state as well. Soarin said, quite brashly, “Oh no you don’t, the mane was more than enough. My tail is going way too far.”

He quickly stood up, causing the squawking bird to fall off his back and ruffle its feathers in annoyance. Soarin, hoping to escape, leaped off the cough only to screech in pain a moment later. The bird wasn’t taking no for an answer and had grabbed some of Soarin’s tail in his beak when the pegasus jumped off the couch.

Feeling a few of his tail hairs ripped from his hindquarters Soarin promptly lost control of his jump. Instinctively, he spread his wings, but unfortunately, was too late as he crashed hard onto the table in front of him. Soarin felt the table snap beneath him and the dozens of magazines that were on it got launched into the air.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his dazed mind and ringing ears. As they cleared Soarin saw that Spike was rolling around the floor laughing inexplicitly hard. Spike was clutching his sides and tears were running down the smile on his face.

Quickly thinking, Soarin had the perfect idea for a retort. A cricked grin grew on his face as he prepared to pounce on the rambunctious winged lizard…only to be smacked in the head by one of the airborne magazines. The volume of the laughing increased quite noticeably.

Distracted by the violating object, Soarin noticed that it had fallen on a page with a very disturbing picture of himself. It also had a headline that made Soarin go extremely red in the checks.

Quickly shutting the text, he thought of the only pony who could have leaked that story. It had to have been Him. Well there would be time to worry about that later, but Soarin would make sure he got his revenge.

Spike was still caught in a recalcitrant laughing spree and Daylight had apparently flown back to the other side of the room again. He had a few long navy blue strands of hair in his beak. Eyes widening in horror, Soarin hastily examined his tail for damage control. Luckily, it appeared that the flying menace had only gotten a miniscule amount of his tail in its beak and thus any damage was mostly unnoticeable.

However, his honor was at stake and Soarin was not about to lose to a bird. Quickly diving behind the couch so the bird could not see his plans, Soarin began to devise a way to get back at the winged monstrosity.

“If you two are done with your asinine and destructive actions I have an update.”

Oh nuts, my plans will have to wait. Popping his head up above the couch Soarin confirmed his suspicion that the voice belonged to Nurse Redheart. Spike had finally managed to gain control of his laughing and was now listening intently.

“We have narrowed it down to a few possible diseases and viruses that could be hampering young Scootaloo.”

“Wait. I thought a disease and a virus were the same thing?” Spike said with confusion.

“Nope, but both can be quite disastrous for the body,” Redheart replied.

“We need to run some more tests to get more conclusive results. When we do so we will let you know. Now…” her face blossomed into a smile, “…the good news is that her frostbite was, miraculously, not that bad. Mostly degree one with only some degree two, which means there will be absolutely no permanent damage. Although, there may be some scaring and it’s likely that her fur will fall out of her hooves while it heals. Even so, with how long she was outside it’s amazing that she is in as good shape as she is. I believe we have you to thank for that Soarin.” She said nodding toward the Wonderbolt.

“I didn’t really do anything special.” Soarin couldn’t understand why ponies didn’t get that he simply did what had to be done. Anypony in my situation would have tried to do the same… right?

The mare laughed, “Your humbleness is awe-inspiring. You definitely saved Scootaloo’s life and should be proud of it. Her hypothermia is also improving. Her body temperature had dropped to around ninety percent of what it should be, which in itself was concerning, but she is currently doing much better and her core temperature is on the rise."

Redheart paused to take a drink from a nearby cup of water. “It will still be sometime before we conclude the tests. I would ask you to get some rest but I doubt that would happen.” She snorted in distain. “So instead I will simply ask if you are hungry.”

Soarin didn’t even need to respond. His covetous expression explained all.

“I’ll be back with some food then.”

Redheart had brought the food, some apples and blueberry muffins, before quickly excusing herself. Soarin had dove in and noticed that the apples were once again scrumptious and magnificent. What was it with this place and apples? Not that he was really complaining, he liked apples, but then again he couldn’t think of many things he didn’t like.

“Man you really eat a lot.” Spike was watching him. His mouth was wide open and he was wearing an astonished expression.

“Hmm? Most pegasus eat a lot, it really helps with flying. Some prefer to sleep all the time but with Spitfire as my captain that’s not going to happen. Besides food tastes so good it seems like a waste to let it go uneaten.”

The dragon seemed to contemplate his words. “I prefer gems. Rubies are pretty good, and I love diamonds…” A glossy love struck expression appeared on Spikes face.

Soarin nodded in agreement; he knew what it was like to love food.

“Every time I eat diamonds I see the most beautiful creature in all of Equestria and I can’t help but wonder why I didn’t save them for her. Lady Rarity is finer than any jewel and I would give up anything for her.”

Spike suddenly gasped and a look of horror crossed over his eyes. “What if Lady Rarity is stuck out in the storm and I need to save her. She could be all alone and cold and afraid and waiting for me to come save her!”

The dragon was looking around franticly as though his beloved was in the room with him. Daylight was watching Spike with a look of disbelief. Soarin couldn’t help but agree with the monster, he definitely was in no mood to go running around the storm trying to save another child.

“I’m sure that Lady Rarity is safe, she must also be intelligent in order to catch your trained eye.” Soarin hoped that playing to the young dragon’s ego would get him to settle down.

Spikes eyes narrowed dangerously, “Scootaloo isn’t stupid and she was out in the storm.”

Well that didn’t work, Spike 1, me 0. Unsure of how to respond Soarin just sat there with a confounded frown.

Luckily, it appeared that the dragon was in deep thought, “Although she is pretty brash and sometimes does things without thinking…”

“Lady Rarity wouldn’t want you to get hurt doing something stupid.”

“Saving her would not be stupid.” Spike argued furiously.

“Only if she needed saving.”

The dragon didn’t respond but was no longer fidgeting and making movements toward the door. Soarin wasn’t sure if it was his words or Spikes own logic that had convinced him. In the end, Soarin realized he didn’t care, as long as it meant that he didn’t have go chasing his scaly butt through the blizzard.

Silence descended on the group. The only sounds that could really be heard were, once again, the tics and tocs of the clock. The fire had started to die so Soarin decided to add more fuel to the flame. Walking over to the fireplace he let his mind wonder.

The name Rarity seemed familiar. Soarin rattled his brains and after a few moments he – surprisingly, given his memory – had his answer. Ah ha! That’s right, Rarity is the element of generosity. Soarin had never seen a picture of the pony before so he didn’t have much more information. He believed that she was a unicorn but wasn’t completely sure.

“So Lady Rarity is a unicorn right?” Soarin asked the other occupant of the room. He quickly added some timber to the flame and stood up.

“Ya, what else would she be?”

“I’ve heard of her before but don’t really know much about her.” Soarin started to pace around the room to try and work out some of the soreness he had from his crash into the table earlier.

The dragon went into a full-blown explanation of how amazing the unicorn mare was. Soarin paid attention and learned a bit, she was a white unicorn with a purple mane that ran a boutique. However, he was quickly distracted when Daylight flew from his perch to the top of the clock. The bird started cawing, ruffling its feathers and making a lot of noise. Its gray eyes were swirling with intelligence and color – their vividness helping bring the seriousness of the current situation back to light.

And they were staring right into Soarin’s own – feeling as if they reached to the very depths of his being.

The situation was unusual and immediately put Soarin at edge. Spike, on the other hoof, was ignorant of the tense atmosphere and was going on about how he saved his Lady from the hands of diamond dogs. Soarin could not shake the feeling that the bird was trying to communicate. It was almost like Daylight was trying to symbolize that they were running out of time or something, but Soarin had no idea why the bird would think that.

Suddenly, the sounds of hooves could be heard approaching the lobby. Spike snapped out of his reverie and looked around. After a few moments Soarin saw that Dr. Horse and Nurse Redheart were approaching them. The nurse had a morose and distraught expression that made Soarin immediately tense up, even more so than the bird’s strange behavior had.

Upon reaching them the doctor immediately launched into conversation. Soarin got the feeling he wanted to get it over with. “So we have deduced what ails the young Scootaloo. It seems that well…she is going to die.”

The entire world seemed to stop. Even the tics of the clock were nonexistent.

“Doctor! A bit more subtly would be good!” Redheart barked out, face scrunched in annoyance, yet soft from sorrow.

With a large sigh the doctor continued, “I guess. Scootaloo has what is known as haydrocephalus, which is a terminal disease that attacks the brain, causing the recipient to go slowly insane and eventually die. Generally, the disease is recessive unless something triggers it. This is usually some extreme or unusual event. Think of the disease like a spider, it waits in hiding before striking out when its prey is weak. Historically, it was often triggered due to silicate mineral mining, where asbestos poisoning would cause it to appear. However, that does not mean it has to be exactly this. There have been reports of it appearing simply through mental problems such as depression. It seems that young Scootaloo’s trigger was the hypothermia that she obtained today.”

“So what’s going to happen to her?” It was Spike that asked the question. The timidness and fright in his voice felt like ice cold daggers through Soarin’s heart.

“She will slowly lose her mind, when the diseases awakens it literally eats the brain. There is no cure, she will die.” Dr. Horse said emotionlessly.

“How long does she have?” Spike asked again, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“Depends on which part of the brain it attacks first. She could remain coherent for as long as a year, and live in a coma for as long as a decade.”

Spike didn’t ask any more questions, but Soarin could hear and see him starting to sob uncontrollably. Admitting, Soarin didn’t know a lot about diseases but this seemed a bit strange for what he did know. “I’m confused, where does this disease come from?”

“It’s not really a disease, it’s a bit more complicated than that but for simplicities sake they act similar.”

Soarin continued, “How did Scootaloo get it?”

“Unfortunately, while dormant it is nearly impossible to detect, but it has been determined that it is passed on hereditarily. However, it can also skip as many as five generations.”

“That’s it. There is no other way to get it?” A sudden terrified thought arose in Soarin’s brain. “I gave that filly C.P.R. How do you know I don’t have it?”

A slight smile grew on the doctor’s face. “I don’t think you have to worry about that…”

Soarin was starting to freak out a little bit. “How can you be so sure? You said yourself that it can’t be detected when it’s not active.”

“There is only one known way, other than heritance, through which the disease can pass. And unless you were doing something I hope you weren’t, you don’t have to be worried about it.”

Nurse Redheart sighed behind Soarin and answered, “It can be passed sexually Soarin.”

“…Oh”

There was a very awkward silence. Spike seemed to be staring but seeing nothing, tears cascading down the side of his muzzle. Redheart also seemed unhinged. Dr. Horse tried hard to conceal any sort of emotion but Soarin could see through his mask, he was upset too.

Soarin, no stranger to death, spoke with strength in his voice, “So there is nothing that can be done?”

Dr. Horse immediately responded, “No, nothing…”

Soarin snorted loudly and with distain. There is always something that can be done. “That’s bucking stupid. I refuse to believe that. I didn’t come so far only to be told that it can’t be done. What the hay is wrong with you!”

The doctor seemed unfazed by his outburst. “You don’t understand it’s not curable. It’s a terminal disease. Every patient that has ever had it has died. It’s simply not possible.”

The words woke a memory in Soarin’s mind, one he would never forget.

“It’s not possible Soarin.”

“Huh what do you mean?”

Soarin was talking with Skyflare, Spitfire’s younger sister, after one of the squad’s award ceremonies. He had always connected well with Skyflare, she was born into an extremely well known family of fliers but due to a bone problem was unable to fly.

The structure they currently inhabited was located in Cloudsdale and was created, like most structures in the sky, out of clouds. It was owned by Spitfire’s family and was quite an impressive sight. Both Soarin and Skyflare were in one of the back rooms which, while beautiful, was rarely used. The room also contained a balcony and was an elevation of a few thousand winglengths above the ground.

“There is nothing you can do to help me, but you’re sweet for trying.” She blew Soarin a kiss from across the room.

“Are you sure? What are you doing out here anyway? What happened to being afraid of heights?” Skyflare was currently standing on the balcony, perched like a bird, contemplation lost deep in her orange eyes.

Due to her acrophobia, Skyflare would normally be shivering, like she was frozen to the core with fear, when confronted with heights. Now however, she was standing one step away from sudden oblivion and yet was calmer than a tranquil summer breeze.

“It’s true that I am afraid of heights,” she didn’t even turn to face the stallion as she spoke, “but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Huh, why not?” was Soarin’s intellectual replay.

“Look, go see sis. I’m sure she is wondering where you are. After all the award was given to the whole squad, not just her.” Her voice was droning and dry.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting really…weird.” Skyflare and Spitfire had never really gotten along. Their parents had always given more attention to their famous and talented daughter rather than their grounded one. In response, Skyflare was usually rambunctious and enthusiastic to try and get as much attention as possible. To see her down and sad like this was…unheard of.

“I believe I already answered that.”

She was also never cheeky.

“But Spitfire told me to stay around and watch out for you. She was worried about something.” Soarin initially had no idea what Spitfire was worried about, but by Skyflare’s demeanor and actions he was starting to get an idea.

“Oh and of course her opinion is more valuable than mine. Who cares what the crippled pegasus thinks and cares about.” The female’s voice was quickly turning hostile and before Soarin knew it she was shouting, “IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT HER, I HAVE FEELINGS TOO YOU KNOW! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE”

“But…”He had no idea what to do or say. With the way she was acting, leaving her alone wouldn’t be smart, but he also didn’t want to anger Skyflare.

“Please… I really want to be alone right now.” Now she was crying. Soarin had never been good with emotional stuff. He was now at even more of a loss than before. “Just please tell sis it was an accident.”

“Look, Sky, you’re starting to freak me out a bit. Why don’t you just step down from the balcony?” Soarin was slowly approaching the mare, trying to keep his voice level and calm, “Please? Don’t do anything stupid…”

Skyflare still didn’t move, nor look at the esteemed flier. Her only movements were the continued shivering of her shoulders as she sobbed quietly. Carefully, Soarin managed to make his way to the mare and reached out to grasp her. Upon contact the pegasus flinched, and for a fleeting moment the Wonderbolt thought she was going to fall. And while she did indeed fall, luckily, it was toward the stallion instead of the open sky.

Now with Soarin supporting her, the sobbing mare turned and cried into Soarins mane. “No pony will every care what I do. I’m nothing, sis…Spitfire can do anything better.” Her voice was over saturated with tears and Soarin had trouble making out the words.

He led the upset and weeping pony toward a comfortable chair. Treating her more carefully than a flower, Soarin helped the mare settle down on the soft surface. Taking a deep breath Soarin opened his mouth to try and comfort her, but was interrupted by a loud shrill shout.

“SOARIN, SPITFIRE NEEDS TO SEE YOU AND SHE IS RAVING PISSED!”

A frown appeared on Soarin’s face. He wanted to stay with Skyflare as leaving her in this state would be foolish. But Spitfire could get really impatient. Maybe if he galloped, he could get back in time before she realized he was gone?

“SPITFIRE IS ANGRIER THAN SHE WAS LAST YEAR! YOU BETTER NOT IGNORE HER!”

Crap… If she was angrier now than last year, when Soarin almost blew up the house, this had to be extremely serious. Examining Skyflare, who currently had her head in her hooves and was bawling uncontrollably, Soarin doubted that she would be getting up anytime soon.

Making a quick decision, Soarin told Skyfare, “Stay here, I’ll be back in one second, okay?”

Not waiting for a reply Soarin opened his wings and flew toward the door and threw it open. Flying through the hallway he only focused on increasing his speed. He was not sure where the fiery captain was but he figured once he got close all he had to do was follow her yells.

After a turning a corner Soarin heard her voice, “HOW IS THAT EVEN REMOTELY FUNNY?” Yup, while it was still somewhat quiet, he would have no problem following it. It was like trying to trail a pony with a microphone, not even remotely difficult.

“IF YOU DON’T TELL ME, I WILL BE THE ONLY ONE HAVING FUN HERE!”

The voice was getting louder and not in a good way. Soarin had no idea what Spitfire was angry about, but by her tone and his instincts shouting out at him, he knew he should be flying away, not toward the infuriated mare. Instead, he forced himself to increase his speed. Turning the corner the enraged pegasus came into view, her mane and tail frazzled with intensity.

“I REALLY DOUBT SOARIN HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS AS HE IS WHAT DOING WHAT I ASKED HIM NOT LOLLYGAGGING LIKE A FOAL!”

She was yelling at Surprise, who was sheepishly cowing from the bellowing and spitting Captain.
Fanning his wings out to slow his flight, he came to a stop right as Spitfire turned and glared at whoever dared interrupt her tirade. Her glare quickly turned to surprise then disbelief.

“SOARIN! WHAT THE BUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? I TOLD YOU TO STAY WITH MY SISTER, SHE’S UNSTABLE RIGHT NOW!”

“Huh? But I heard you were looking for me…”

The orange pegasus’s eyes narrowed in contemplation before speaking, in a much more subdued, but no less threatening, voice, “What? I never asked to see you…”

It was then that they heard a whisper on the wind, obviously muted by distance. All conversation stopped and it took them a minute to comprehend the shrill sound. When they did, all eyes widened in horror. Somepony was screaming…

Shaking his head to clear the painful memory, Soarin saw that Dr. Horse was starting to walk away. And he was not walking in the direction of Scootaloo’s room. Soarin felt anger build up in his system.

In times like this Soarin couldn’t help but remember something one of his old instructors had told him. It was simple in meaning, yet infinite in application. When in trouble, inactivity will get somepony killed just as easily as a spear or sword will.

Before Soarin even recognized what he was doing, he was shouting, “WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?

His outburst caused Dr. Horse to pause and turn before answering. “We have already been over this. There is nothing that can be done.” His voice was resigned and distant.

Soarin quickly broke into maniacal laughing, slightly mincing his words. “So you mean to tell me that you are simply giving up? That you are not going to at least try something? ANYTHING?”

Soarin’s voice was rising toward its climax, “NO, INSTEAD YOU ARE GOING TO DO NOTHING BECAUSE SOMEPONY SAID THAT IT CAN’T BE DONE. WELL BUCK THAT! JUST BECAUSE THEY COULDN’T DO IT DOESN’T MEAN THAT YOU CAN’T!”

Catching his breath, Soarin continued at a more subdued pace, “Let me spell it out for you. You. Are. A. Doctor. It is your job to try and help ponies. So do your job already!”

“It’s never been done before. Everypony who has had the disease has died.” Dr. Horse’s voice had lost his sarcastic edge and was quickly becoming erratic and fearful under the wrathful rage of the Wonderbolt.

Unfortunately, fear was not what Soarin was going for, so he quickly changed his approach.

“Do you remember when you were a kid?” Soarin’s voice was much quieter, a reminiscent aura caught around his words. “The dreams and goals you had? The smiles of your parents when you made them proud? Well, right now there is a filly in that room and she has her own hopes, desires and dreams. If you don’t do anything, she is never going to reach them. She will never even have the opportunity to reach them.

He heard Nurse Redheart sniffle behind him, and he could see in Dr. Horse eyes that his words were having an effect. His blue eyes were no longer vibrant and clear like the summer sky, but were blurring like a morning fog.

“Right now she is lying in that room, in pain, terrified and alone. And you can say with a straight face that you wouldn’t want to try and help her? That it doesn’t bother you, even slightly, what is happening? No one will hold it against you if you don’t succeed, but if you don’t even try in the first place…” Soarin paused and shook his head back and forth. “How can you even think that?”

The doctor answered hesitantly. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

The lament voice of nurse Redheart broke through her crying, “There is always that spell…”

It was difficult to make out her words, but Soarin managed to. He was about to question further when Dr. Horse beat him to it. “That’s purely hypothetical, it would never work”

Curiosity further piqued Soarin asked, “What spell?”

The doctor turned toward him and said, “Well there is a spell that can supposedly remove the disease if it is caught quickly after the trigger. It has never been cast successfully and takes a ridiculous amount of magic power to attempt. I know I can’t do it. Other than the alicorn princesses I doubt anypony has the power to perform it. The longer the disease is active the harder it gets too. Even if the spell did work, there would still be brain damage.”

That just sounded like a long-winded excuse to Soarin. “So you really aren’t even going to try… Someponies life is on the line and you are just going to stand there and go, oh sorry I can’t do it. No point in trying.” He turned away from Dr. Horse with a disappointed sigh and muttered out, to no one in particular, “I can’t believe you…”

It seemed that Soarin’s words had finally reached the doctor. Dr. Horse’s ears were drooping and he looked ashamed. However, instead of motivating him, Soarin had merely destroyed any confidence he had.

Once again silence descended on the group. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Soarin had been to more joyous funerals before. It was obvious that the nurse and doctor thought the filly was already dead and the thought was seriously starting to infuriate him. He was about to let more of his opinions known when a sound broke the doleful silence.

“He doesn’t have to try…” Spike’s voice was quiet and laced with pain, but there was a rising shadow of hope as well.

“Oh and how many other unicorns do you see around here? There is no one else who can try.” In a normal situation Soarin would not have been so sharp to the child, but he was stressed and annoyed. And the memory of that night put him on edge.

The dragon didn’t seem fazed and with rising confidence in his voice spoke out, “He said he doesn’t have the power to do it. We need somepony with more magical power and I know exactly who would work.” The dragon turned and looked Soarin straight in the eye. “Soarin you up for a flight through the snow?”

“Why?” He was legitimately confused, what does flying have to do with anything right now?

Spike answered rapid fire, “Because we need you to go fetch somepony. We need the most powerful unicorn there is around. We need Twilight Sparkle. And we need her fast.”

I:III Time is a Fickle Friend

View Online

The Solar Enigma

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Book I

Chapter III: Time is a Fickle Friend

“Fear is excitement without breath” – Robert Heller

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“What if something went wrong?” Spikes voice wavered slightly as he spoke. In the last few minutes the dragon had became obliviously fidgety. He almost looked like a cat, chewing on his claws as his eyes darted around the room.

Soarin and Spike were currently sitting in the hospital lobby, waiting for something to happen. Originally, the plan had been that Soarin would retrieve Twilight Sparkle from her home to aid them. However, a few last minute revelations had left them with a better option. Instead, Spike had sent a letter to Twilight Sparkle through his dragon fire and described the situation. They had asked her to teleport to the hospital as soon as possible. It had seemed like a much safer and more reliable plan. The only problem was that they had sent the letter almost twenty minutes ago and there was still no sign, or word from the purple unicorn.

Trying to calm the dragon’s nerves, Soarin said, “I’m sure that everything is fine.”

“But she should have been here by now, right?” Spike said, “Why wouldn’t she be here, unless something happened?”

Soarin suddenly found his eyes drawn to the fireplace; like a moth to the flame. He found the flickering inferno relaxing with its oranges, reds and yellows dancing an intricate pattern that only nature could discern. Breaking his gaze from the hypnotic display, Soarin turned and spoke in a soft, yet confident tone to his companion, “Maybe something is holding her up?”

“What could possibly be holding her up?” The dragon’s voice was drenched in worry.

In light of his companion’s sorrow, Soarin decided to go for some humor to try and relieve some tension. Recalling what he knew of Twilight Sparkle from his conversation with Spike earlier, he said, “Maybe she ran into a library on the way here?”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed and he spoke with a rapidly sharpening edge on his voice. “We live in a library.”

Soarin tried to hold in his laughter. He really did, but it became too much and he was soon guffawing like a fool. Getting his mirth together, Soarin managed to squeeze out, “Wait, so a book loving librarian and a fire breathing dragon live in a library and its still standing? How is that even possible?”

The flustered Spike took a deep breath and prepared to respond when he was interrupted by the sweet, yet anxious voice of Nurse Redheart, “Spike are you sure that your letter reached Twilight?”

Surprised, the two males turned and looked over the couch that they currently inhabited. Spike took a moment to comprehend the nurse’s words before stuttering out a replay, “It should have. When I use that magic I sent it to a, um… a magic aura or something. I don’t know how else to explain it and I dunno how it works, I just kinda do it. It should be fine, it’s not like the storm would affect it or something.”

Nurse Redheart eyebrows rose, “Magic can be affected by storms?”

Spike continued with a shrug of his shoulders, “I think so. I’m pretty sure that Twilight said that pony magic could be, but only when it’s a wild storm.”

Right then, Dr. Horse sluggishly staggered into the room appearing almost zombie like in his clucky posture. Ears perked up to hear the young dragons words, the doctor paused next to Nurse Redheart. Opening his mouth, a rough and exhausted series of sounds were admitted, almost sounding like somepony shouting though water – so muddled were his words. Still, with some difficultly, Soarin was able to make them out.

“Yes, this is part of the reason that the Everfree Forest is so feared.” Clearing his throat loudly, Dr. Horse continued on with a bit more clarity, “The forest is wild and pony magic does not resonate well there. Generally, this means that the deeper you go, the harder it gets to control your magic. It doesn’t matter what type of pony you are, it simply makes all aspects more difficult. Unicorns won’t be able to cast as complicated spells. Pegasi will have much more difficulty flying and earth ponies will find their endurance limited.”

“You know I’ve always wondered about that. Is there something wrong or unnatural with pony magic or something?” Soarin said, wings flustering slightly as he thought.

Dr. Horse replied with minimal effort; only his eyes, rather than his head, moved toward the Wonderbolt. “Nopony knows. It’s just the way things are.”

Spike asked, “Pegasi and earth ponies have magic? I thought only unicorns did?”

Soarin, with machine-like precision, answered before Dr. Horse could even open his mouth. “Pegasus wings, unlike gryphons or birds, are not large enough to support a pony without magic. So all pegasus must learn to,” he stumbled looking for the right word, “accept their magic to allow for flight. Sure, we can never cast something fancy or flashy like levitation or teleportation, but a skilled and talented pegasus can use their magic to remotely control weather and some basic stuff like that.”

Leaving no time for a pause, the doctor continued right where the peagsus left off, “That’s correct and earth ponies are much the same way with increased endurance and strength. But alas, we are getting off topic. What we need to do is…”

Suddenly the shrill and obstreperous voice of the Nurse broke Dr. Horse’s incoming monologue, “Oh no!”

Startled by the interruption, the three males reacted quickly. Soarin leaped off of the couch; eyes furiously zipping around the room in suspicion. Spike jumped slightly and Dr. Horse stared intensely at Redheart. All three of them asked in unison, “What?”

“This storm will affect magic because it’s wild right?” Focusing his attention back on the mare, Soarin noticed that Redheart’s mannerism and tone reminded him of a scared mother. She was skittish and her lip was quivering with nerves.

Dr. Horse was the one to finally answer after a brief period of silence. He responded with a calculating tint in his voice, as if he was trying to see where the question would lead to. “Sure, the buildings will help isolate the effects, so we should be fine. In fact, here in the hospital I haven’t even noticed any change in my casting.”

Redheart seemed to slightly calm down. “Oh, but Twilight is teleporting from her home. How do we know that it won’t affect her?”

Soarin, seeing an opportunity, tried once again to contribute. “Well if the magic is protected by the buildings, and both ends of her spell are located inside, she should be fine…right?”

“That’s not quite true. The storm would actually interfere with the magic. Teleportation deals with a combination of the spectral and magical planes and thus…” The doctor shook his head back and forth. “Needless to say, the wild nature of the storm would collide with it.”

Soarin, slightly confused, asked with some hesitation, “What does that mean for us?”

Dr. Horse said, “She won’t accurately hit her target destination. It’s possible that she could overshoot it, or even undershoot it. With a storm of this size she could be quite a ways off. It seems we now know why she hasn’t arrived.” The doctor started to chuckle hopelessly. “Our genius plan wasn’t so brilliant after all.”

Nurse Redheart, now much calmer than before, said, “Now don’t be hasty. Twilight is a smart girl; I doubt she would have teleported into the storm. She would know about something like this.”

Spike, with a hallow chuckle said, “You don’t know Twilight. She forgot to come pick me,” Spike pointed toward his chest, “her number one assistant up, so she must be really busy. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even realize there is a storm going on.”

Dr. Horse snorted quite loudly and rolled his eyes. “Look at the window,” he pointed a hoof toward the rattling frame – it looked like a monster trying to escape its cage. “There is no way that she could have not noticed that.”

The nurse disagreed and before Soarin knew it both her and Dr. Horse were arguing about what to do. Out of the corner of his eye, Soarin noticed that Spike was preparing to jump into the dispute.

Slamming his front two hooves down, Soarin shouted, “JUST STOP” Three sets of eyes turned and met his. “We will give her ten more minutes, if we haven’t had any sign of her, then we will act.”

The room descended into uncomfortable silence. If Twilight doesn’t show up… what in the hay should we do? Pacing slowly, Soarin instinctively, yet slowly, stretched out his wings. She could have tried to teleport and then she would be lost in the storm. Or she could have not tried and be stranded in her home.

The sound of hooves broke the Wonderbolt’s thought process. Looking around, Soarin noticed that Nurse Redheart was heading down the main hallway. She must be checking up on the filly. Although… if both Dr. Horse and Nurse Redheart were here, then who was watching the kid?

Voicing his concern out loud Soarin said, “So while the two of you were here, who was watching the filly?”

“One of the nurses, Redheart isn’t the only one you know.” Dr. Horse looked at Soarin’s stony expression and sighed. “I promise you she will always be watched. I might not have the same resolute drive that you do, but I’m far from incompetent.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Soarin saw that Spike was slumping back down into the cushions. He also noticed that the doctor was eyeing the broken table, eyes slightly narrowed and a frown drawn across his features.

The doctor spoke again, “If it makes you feel any better, Daylight was also in the room watching Scootaloo last I checked.”

Daylight? Who is Daylight? Racking his brains Soarin suddenly remembered; the next second he was shouting, “WHAT? NO! That makes everything worse!”

“Not a fan eh?” Dr. Horse said with a chuckle.

Soarin calmed himself down and spoke as seriously as he could muster, “That monster is evil incarnate.”

The doctor merely let out a short bark of laughter before he turned and looked at the clock. I know that bird is up to something. I’ll just have to catch it in the act.

A faint bout of noise hit Soarin’s ears and he perked them up for better reception. He quickly realized that they were hoof steps and less than a minute later Nurse Redheart reappeared. The doctor ignored her arrival and was still watching the clock. Nine minutes had passed.

The next minute progressed in eerie silence – a morose symphony for the deaf. As soon as the second hand hit the hour mark Dr. Horse began speaking, “It’s been ten minutes and she is not here, it is now time to act.” His voice was much clearer and stronger than before.

Soarin couldn’t help but notice Dr. Horse’s personality change from earlier in the evening. When he was first tying to get the doctor to do something, it had been a disaster. However, when they had come up with a plan, his confidence had been reinvigorated.

Soarin approved of the change.

“I’ve been thinking; what are we going to do? How do we even know that she tried to teleport?” asked Soarin.

Dr. Horse, still watching the clock, responded immediately, “We don’t, but the best thing to do is to assume that she did. Because if she did, then she could be stranded out in the storm and in danger herself.”

Soarin nodded in agreement. “So… Are we just going to run around in the storm looking for her or something?”

“Nope, you are going to run around the storm and look for her.” The doctor made it sound like it was the most obvious and logical thing in the world.

Soarin took a moment before answering. He spoke with a quarter of animosity and three quarters exasperation, “Just me?”

“Yup.” Dr. Horse had an amused smile stretching from check to check.

Soarin almost face-hooved. “Why? Wouldn’t we have a better chance of success with more ponies looking?”

“Well you do have that fancy flight suit that keeps you dry. None of us have anything like that and would only be putting ourselves are more risk. What’s the point of saving one pony to lose another? Besides, you’re a Wonderbolt. You’re trained to deal with crazy stuff like this every day.” Dr. Horse paused for a minute before tuning and looking the light blue pegasus in the eyes. “Add in the fact that you have more experience than anyone else here, and are more physically fit. Quite frankly, you are the clear cut choice.”

Soarin sighed, unhappy with the logic the doctor was stating. “Fine.” He paused, hoof on his chin. “So we know that she would not have tried to teleport out of the storm right?”

The response was immediate. “I very much doubt it,” Dr. Horse’s voice was strong and confident. “Teleporting takes two focus points, the start and the end. However, the initial push is what makes it so difficult. Think of it like jumping, while landing in and of itself can be uncomfortable, it takes no effort when compared to takeoff. Teleportation is much the same way. Teleporting from a protected home, especially one that is frequently daubed in magic, to a wild storm would be easy magically. Doing it the other way, would be extremely taxing.”

Noticing Soarin’s confused expression, Redheart put in her two cents, “It would be like jumping down a cliff compared to jumping up a cliff.”

Dr. Horse’s head bobbed in semi-approval. “Close enough.”

His understanding somewhat improved, Soarin said with some hesitancy, “So, we know that Twilight likely didn’t try and teleport again.”

“It’s honestly hard to say, most unicorns wouldn’t be able to teleport in these conditions. Twilight is not like most unicorns,” the doctor paused for a moment. “That said, she knows that we were calling her here to do advanced and exhausting magic, so it is unlikely that she would use up her magical reserves if she could help it. There is also the storm to take into consideration. Twilight would know the impossibility that the storm would add to making accurate teleports. However, the longer we wait the more likely she is to panic and try to teleport to help her own predicament.”

Turing away from the doctor, Soarin observed the windows in the lobby. They still appeared to be covered by white paint on the outside. “So…time to go for a trip through the snow?” At the doctor’s nod, Soarin found himself deeply sighing. “And the think, the whole idea of this plan was so that we could avoid that.”

“The fates must hate you,” without pause to take breath Dr. Horse continued, “We have already wasted enough time, you need to get going.”

“I’m going, just give me a second to get…”

He was interrupted by a young voice, “I’m coming too.” It was Spike. The dragon hopped from the couch and was walking toward the entryway with purpose.

Following the progress of the dragon with his eyes, Soarin took a minute to compose his words before speaking. In a firm, yet strong, voice he said, “I appreciate the offer, but it would really help me if you could stay here. The weather out there is real bad and I don’t want to have to keep an eye on you.”

Spikes narrowed his eyes and said, quite hostility, “You don’t need to keep an eye on me. I know this town better than you.”

The Wonderbolt was unfazed. “Unfortunately, I would do it all the same. That’s just who I am.”

“Then we split up.”

Luckily, for Soarin, Redheart made her opinion known. “I don’t think so young man, you are a dragon. This type of cold is much worse for you than it is for ponies. I will not allow you to go out in this storm, period.”

“But…that’s not fair!” Spike was stumbling over his own words and turned to the doctor for, what Soarin assumed, was support.

The doctor merely had a content look on his face and replied with a shrug of his shoulders, “You heard the lady.”

Spike let out an exasperated growl before stomping over to the couch. He kicked a few magazines out of the way before sitting down. Soarin wondered if the dragon toyed with the idea of setting the magazines on fire. He would have loved to help.

Turing to the door Soarin closed his eyes, took a deep breath and prepared to head out...only to be interrupted yet again. “Wait! You need to bring this with you to.” Facing Nurse Redheart he noticed that she had something at her feet. It was a saddle.

The exact same one he had been using before. It was mostly pink with some light blues and purple. The yellow butter flies on the straps were definitely feminine and the overall style made wearing it unwieldy and bulky for a stallion. The worst part, by far, was the words on the side that spelt out: I’m a big mare now! in glittering colors of the rainbow.

“You’re joking right?” Soarin looked closely at the mare’s light blue eyes while he spoke, but could not see any trace of deceit. He couldn’t even see the hint of a joke. Redheart either didn’t have a sense of humor or had an excellent poker face.

Nurse Redheard shook her head. “Of course not, it’s crucial that you have it on. It could save your very life.”

Before he had time to voice any type of argument, the nurse quickly snapped into action and stepped forward with the saddle in her mouth.

Soarin had no idea how this was going to help him in any situation. But, by the weight on his back, he assumed that the nurse must have already put it on him. How she did it so fast, Soarin had no idea. Looking back he confirmed that the saddle had been placed on his back. The strap of the saddle that went under his belly had also been place over his wings, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to extend them.

Spike was laughing, likely to the Soarin’s expression, which was morphing between doleful, hostile and annoyed at random. Soarin was surprised to hear the child laughing. He had thought that the dragon would still be brooding about not being able to come along. Apparently, laughing at the Wonderbolt took precedence.

Finally accepting the humility, Soarin asked with little emotion, “Why did it have to be this specific saddle? And why over the wings?”

A large grin exploded on Nurse Redheart’s face. Add in the glowing of her eyes and Soarin had to fight a blush down from appearing on his face.

“Do you really think you’re going to be flying in that weather? As for why that saddle…well, it is yours right?” Her voice was so heavenly and sweet that Soarin almost melted at her feet.

Dr Horse interrupted the proceedings, “one last thing, we wouldn’t want you to get lost after all. Isn’t that right Ma’am?” The doctor’s magic was levitating a piece of rope. Soarin had no idea what it was for. Instead he focused on the unicorn’s expression, which was devoid of any sneer, smirk or smile. Dr. Horse had a completely straight face.

Snorting angrily, Soarin decided on one thing for sure. Once this was all over, he had a lot of revenge to plan.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The point of the saddle, Soarin had soon found out, was that one end of the rope could be attached to it with the other connected to the hospital. This way, when or if, he found Twilight Sparkle he would be able to simply follow the rope back.

He had tried asking the nurse why he needed to attach one end to the saddle when he could just tie it around his body instead. He had hoped that his argument would make the tight saddle unnecessary to bring along.

She had told him to shut up. Well, not in those exact words but that was the general gist of it. She had argued that it would keep him warmer. He had a feeling the difference would be minuscule, but in the end there was no point to arguing; the clock was ticking. One extra minute could mean the difference between live and death for the filly, so Soarin put up with the stupid thing.

Soarin had briefly discussed the best way to go about his search with Dr. Horse before setting out. They had agreed that heading out as far as he could go, and then circling around while keeping the rope taut, was the best option. If he was unable to make out any sign, whether through tracks or magical residue, he would start to work on the interiors of the circle his rope could map out. And if that netted no results, Soarin would head back to the hospital to re-evaluate their choices again.

The Wonderbolt had left the hospital only around a minute ago and the rope was already being a nuisance. He was keeping the rope coiled up so that the wind wouldn’t jerk it around too much. In order to reduce his inconvenience, Soarin increased his speed so that the rope would be pulled out faster. Thankfully, his muscles weren’t protesting too much due to the rest at the hospital.

As he headed forward, in what he assumed was a straight line, he noticed that the blizzard seemed to be waning slightly. While the snow was still coming down in huge quantities the wind had partially subdued – the whiteout had obtained some light gray. Spirits rising Soarin added a little skip to his trot.

Unfortunately, the rope pulled taut and Soarin let out a yelp as the unexpected force pulled him into the ground. Pushing himself up from the ground he merely turned around and looked for what had caused the rope to tighten up.

Griping the rope in his mouth, Soarin reluctantly forced his legs to head back. He thought about readjusting the saddle so that he could use his wings to help, but in the end decided that it wasn’t worth the effort, or the time.

After a short period of stumbling around, Soarin found out that the rope had caught on a rock. Soarin kneeled at the series of rocks and sorted out the rope. Making sure it wouldn’t re-catch on the jutted rock he set out in the original direction again. This time he ran into no problems and, with surprising haste, pushed forward.

After a few minutes of fighting through the snow, legs already protesting, Soarin finally ran out of rope. Carefully, Soarin took a minute to look around the area. The wind had died down even more and it was possible to make out some of the features in the direct vicinity. It was dark out, but the snow on the ground was reflecting just enough light for his squinting eyes to make out some objects.

Large symmetrical shadows and silhouettes were located to his left and a black wall appeared toward his right, with strange peaking shadows – almost like a series of pencils lined up together. Turning his gaze closer to the ground, Soarin noticed something even more peculiar. It was difficult to tell with the rapidly waning source of light, but there was a sizeable rounded depression, followed by an undeviating streak extending pashed it. The snow was beginning to cover it up, snowflakes lightly twinkling with mischief as they tried to cover the imperfection.

Curiosity and hope surging through him, warming his very core, Soarin headed toward his discovery. Due to the taut rope, he was unable to walk straight and had to curve slightly from his target. Not over concerned with the rope, Soarin found his thoughts pulled to something else; very nearly covered up, faint circular depressions were heading away from the impact.

They were pony tracks. And they were out of his range.

Setting his haunches on the ground, Soarin appeared similar to a dog, sitting at the edge of his zone, rope keeping him out of range of some interesting discovery. While contemplating how to proceed, the area was bombarded by a sudden surge of freezing wind and snow. It only lasted a moment, but still made the Wonderbolt shiver in response. Ignoring his feeling of unease, Soarin debated on how to proceed. So two real options here: one, ignore the signs, or two, go off-rope.

Not liking ether option, Soarin decided instead to call out into the night, with the hope that his quarry would hear him, “IS ANYPONY THERE!”

He was pleasantly surprised when he was answered almost instantly. It was faint and difficult to hear, but there was definitely somepony or at least something out there.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I’M COMING.”

Facing backward, he prepared to untie the rope with his teeth, only to realize that it was no longer taut. Testing this, he moved forward about a body length and found that the rope was still loose. It must have snagged on something prematurely and recently came free. Confident with his deduction, Soarin paid the discovery little heed and headed out toward the sound. In order to find the voices owner, he started calling out into the storm so that he had a better idea of where he was heading.

“MARECO” Why not have a bit of fun with it too?

Smiling, the Wonderbolt listened to the response on the wind. It sounded like a confused, “What?” but he couldn’t be sure.

Continuing toward the sound, he noticed that it was rapidly getting darker. At this rate it would be pitch black in under a minute. He was unsure what would cause such an effect. It was however, late in the evening, so maybe the light that he had experienced earlier was simply good fortune. He called out again, “MARECO”

This time he definitely heard a response: an exasperated and vociferous sigh. Because he could hear it, Soarin figured that he must be relatively close. Unfortunately, the rapidly descending light was making it extremely difficult to see anything in the darkness.

Soarin cautiously continued forward…only to be blinded by the sun! Or at least some flash of light that remotely simulated it. Rapidly closing his eyes, he growled softly in annoyance. That hadn’t been nice. Opening his eyes to a squint he could now see that around ten wing lengths away a purple unicorn mare had created a light source around her horn with magic. She was looking in his direction but her eyes were not focusing on any one particular point and were dancing around the vicinity.

With a crooked smirk on his face Soarin jumped out toward her and shouted, “MARECO” one last time.

He was rewarded with a scream and a unicorn mare that fell backwards over herself. She remained unmoving on the ground, but Soarin could still see the rise and fall of her chest. As he tentatively approached the downed mare, he took in her appearance. She was a midsized light purple unicorn with an unusual cutie mark. It was a pink star, with five or so smaller white stars around it. Her tail and mane were slightly frazzled and mostly dark indigo with one parallel streak of pink and purple each. As he neared her position she quickly sat up and looked into his eyes with her own. Even though her eyes were narrowed, Soarin could still note that they were an electrifying purple, slightly darker than the one observed in her mane.

Her glare made Soarin feel small and insignificant, like a young child being scolded and she hadn’t even said anything yet. Attempting to break the tension, he jubilantly said, “You were supposed to say polo.”

The mare in front of him face-hooved and groaned: rubbing the area between her eyes with great enthusiasm.

Thinking back, Soarin tried to remember what he could of Twilight Sparkle from the brief moments he had seen her in Canterlot. He was fairly sure that this was her, but figured it was better safe than sorry. “Are you Twilight Sparkle by any chance?”

Not that Soarin expected a lot of random ponies lost in a storm like this, but hey, you never know.

She was muttering under her breath about something. Soarin leaned closer to try and hear what she was saying. All he could make out were a few words, none of which were nice and half of which he didn’t know the definition of.

Finally, she seemed to get her composure back into place and regarded her apparent savior. “It’s good that you’re finally here, I was starting to get really worried.”

Soarin frowned. “Uh, you never answered my question…”

The mare flashed him an annoyed scowl, before closing her eyes and sighing. “Yes I am Twilight Sparkle.” She then turned away from him and started rummaging through a saddlebag. She pulled out, what Soarin thought was a book, but he had never seen one that large before.

“Uh… What’s the book for?” Soarin asked, head tilting to the side in interest.

“Well, the spell that the doctor is asking me to do is extraordinarily complex. I need to make sure that I know all the theory behind it better than the back of my hooves. I haven’t read this book in almost two weeks.” Her eyes began to widen in shock as her own words finally registered in her mind, “I COULD HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING, I NEED TO READ IT AGAIN.”

She dropped to the ground and opened the book on the snow. Her horn was glowing dimly and her aura covered the surface of the book.

Maybe she’s waterproofing it from the snow? Soarin wasn’t sure. He watched as she opened the book and began reading…or at least he thought that’s what she was doing. She was turning the pages so fast that he had no idea if it was even possible to read with that kind of speed.

With one quick look at her face, Soarin could tell that she was deeply involved in her task and was ignoring his presence. Trying to stir the situation back on track he said, “Uh, shouldn’t we get out of the storm?”

“Of course we should.” She was still reading.

“How can we do that if you are reading?”

“Huh? Oh…” She chucked with a nervous smile on her face. It was infectiously cute. Her smile suddenly turned effervescent. “I got an idea!”

The light from her horn surged in intensity. Soarin felt a weight land on his back. Leaning away from the imaginary load, Soarin encountered resistance. It was almost like something was attached to his back, connecting him to the mare in front of him.

“What’s the point of this?”

“Oh it’s a tether spell, now we can’t be farther apart than we are already. That means that I can keep reading my book while walking and if I get to absorbed and distracted the tether will yank you so that you are aware that I am not paying attention.”

“…That seems really complicated.”

Twilight, with a swing of her head, dismissed Soarin. “Of course it’s not, now let’s go.”

Sighing, Soarin turned around and grabbed the rope that was attached to the saddle on his back. He was planning on rolling the rope back up as he went along so it didn’t get all tangled up. He began to trace his steps back toward the hospital.

“Wait a second,” Soarin stopped and glanced back at the purple unicorn. “Why did you say the tether would only yank me around? Wouldn’t we both be yanked around?”

The mare started pawing the ground nervously, a slight blush appearing on her checks. “Well you see; it’s not exactly a standard tether spell it’s a more, um, complicated variation…”

Wait…what?

Trying to keep his annoyance in check Soarin asked, “Why didn’t you just cast the simple version?”

The mare gave a forced smile and quick chuckle, “I was so excited about my idea that I changed the spell without meaning to. They’re really similar and the undomesticated nature of the storm makes casting difficult.”

“So, what will the spell actually do then?”

Twilight turned even redder and answered slowly, “Uh to be honest I’m not sure. I know that it’s used by the royal guard when dealing with prisoners, but I don’t know what it does exactly. It’s obviously some kind of tether so it likely pulls or immobilizes the victim in some way when a specific distance is reached.”

Every second we waste, is one less second to save the filly. Flicking his tail and letting out a huge sigh, Soarin started to walk again. “Whatever, just try and keep up okay?”

Picturing a snake in his mind, the rope was wound up to the best of his ability as he walked back toward the hospital; it was not exactly easy, but Soarin miraculously managed to avoid tripping over himself. Luckily, the pace they were traveling at was slow, and with his constant glances backward, he was able to keep the mare inline and on track.

By this time the darkness was absolute, which made it difficult to keep track of the rope. Fortunately, Soarin was able to manage due to the unicorn’s aura around the book. It gave just enough light for him to see what he was doing.

Continuing their trek forward, Soarin’s hopes began to rise. If everything went well, Twilight would be able to help the filly and this night of hell would finally come to an end. He continued to feel the rope slide through his front right hoof, as he hobbled forward. The Wonderbolt quickly glanced back at the unicorn to make sure she was still following him. He wasn’t sure how she was staying warm, but the mare definitely wasn’t shivering. Soarin assumed magic was involved, and with how much harder spells were to cast in this storm he only hoped she wasn’t using up too much of her reserves.

Unexpectedly, the rope disappeared from Soarin’s hoof. Assuming he dropped it, Soarin merely reached down to find it again. Quickly picking it up the Wonderbolt felt his heart momentarily stop. The rope was cut. Confused, he suddenly remembered when the rope had gone from taut to slack right before finding Twilight. It must have been snagged on something and finally snapped at that point. And since I keep walking afterward I pulled it out of place…

The reality hit him harder in the face than a baseball would have. Soarin had no idea where they were.

The sweet voice of Twilight broke into the air. “Why did we stop?”

Soarin really didn’t want to tell the mare they were lost and hesitated in answering as he tried to think.

“Wait, why did the rope end? Did it break?”

Unable to lie he merely nodded his head up and down in conformation.

“It did? But then that means we’re lost?” Twilight froze in fear as realization came upon her. “No…don’t tell me we’re lost!”

Soarin wasn’t really paying attention to the mare but had subconsciously continued nodded his head up and down slightly. That was all the confirmation she needed.

“WE CAN’T BE LOST.” Twilight was franticly looking around in the darkness. She must have been looking for something familiar to determine their position; unfortunately anything beyond a pony length or two was unrecognizable. “THE PRINCESS WILL BE SO DISSAPOINTED IN ME. THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! WHAT IF SHE…”

The unicorn was completely freaking out. Soarin was quite surprised at how sudden the transformation was. Twilight was franticly moving around the area. She would hop in one direction and then to another, eyes darting all over the place.

Suddenly, Twilight took a large jump away from Soarin, disappearing completely into the darkness. Remembering the tether, Soarin’s eyes grew huge as he tried to tell Twilight to calm down and come back. He was never able to get the words out before the spell went into effect.

Soarin felt his entire body thrown down face first. The amount of force was quite remarkable and he quickly found himself deep within the snow.

Unfortunately, the strength of the spell was strong enough that he found himself unable to stand. After a second or two of struggling, the Wonderbolt recognized a much bigger problem. Due to the large quantity of snow his head was forced into, the density of snow had built up around his muzzle and he was unable to draw breath.

He was suffocating.

Frantically, Soarin increased his inutile struggling in hopes of breaking the spell. When he realized that he was unable to free himself, he quickly turned his focus to getting Twilight’s attention. The spell was mostly holding down the front of his body so he was able to awkwardly move his back hooves. He tried using them, along with his tail, to launch snow from the ground into the air, hoping that the disturbance would be noticed by the unicorn. Disastrously, the amount of snow that he was able to displace was minimal and in the darkness chances were minute that she would even notice.

Soarin, being a Wonderbolt had done a bit of breathing exercise before. Due to high altitude flying they needed to have strong lungs, which meant that he could hold his breath for close to seven minutes. Not a world record, but still respectable enough. He decided to keep up his act for a minute or two hoping the mare would notice him and remove the spell.

She never did.

Trying to think of a different method, Soarin ran a blank. The only other thing he could come up with was using his wings to try and launch himself up, but the strap on the saddle kept his wings neatly folded up.

And to think Redheart told him the saddle would help save his life, yet here it was preventing just that. Soarin couldn’t help but mentally chuckle at the irony.

Stopping his actions, Soarin briefly paused to rest his back hoof muscles. The stiffness that was building there could be the onset of a cramp and he would rather not make his situation any worse. Taking the monetary break Soarin racked his brains to try and think of any other solution to his current predicament. No clear answers presented themselves to him.

He was going on three minutes without air.

With no good ideas on how to proceed, Soarin found himself strangely bored. He soon found his mind wondering to the saddle on his back. If he could find some way out of it, he might be able to use his wings to push up for breath. Even if the spell pulled him back down again, he could hopefully shout something out to Twilight for help.

Trying to clear his mind, Soarin thought back to earlier in the night, when Bon Bon had first introduced the saddle to him.

“This is the only one I have, sorry Soarin, it’s somewhat girly,” Bon Bon said slightly disheartened. “I was going through spring cleaning a little early and…”

“A little early? Spring is still months away Bony B? Why would you want to do more work now?” Lyra’s response was razor sharp and saturated with confidence. She had definitely bounced back from the traumatic experience with the filly earlier. Or maybe she just loved antagonizing Bon Bon.

“Wait… You went through spring cleaning and kept that saddle?” Lyra was speaking again, “Haha, I had one similar like a decade ago Bony…”

The cream colored earth pony huffed with as much dignity as she could muster. “It’s good for sentimental reasons, not that you would understand Heartstrings. After all, you have the emotional capacitance of a troll.”

“Or perhaps, I don’t need silly trinkets when I can simply use my brain. It’s useful, maybe you should try it sometimes.”

Much more concerned with the fate of the filly then Bon Bon and Lyra’s games, Soarin interrupted the two squabbling mares. “Ladies, don’t we have bigger problems?”

The two mares both stopped and looked over at Soarin in surprise, as if they had forgotten his presence. Bon Bon gave a sheepish smile while Lyra simply stood against the wall with her front hoofs crossed. Bon Bon quickly regained her composure and said, “of course Soarin, now let’s get the saddle on you, but please be careful. The equipment is quite old and the straps were never all that strong to begin with. If you are too rash with them they might just snap right off…”

Popping out of his memory Soarin’s felt confidence rush back into his veins.

Tentatively, Soarin tried to spread his wings. Due to the strap their progress was quickly stopped; the weight of the snow on top of them didn’t help either. Not so quick to give up, Soarin tried to spread his wings again, this time with a bit more force. His sensitive wings quickly snagged against the harsh and craggy strap of the saddle. The strap still didn’t give any, so Soarin pushed a little harder. This time, Soarin felt pain as it started to cut into his wing; he relaxed and felt the irritation go away.

Unable to take a breath, Soarin took only a moment to try and settle his trepidation and prepare for the incoming agony. He had been without breath for five minutes or so and he was starting to get light headed.

He quickly snapped out his wings. When they encountered the strap he kept pushing. When they encountered pain he forced himself to push even harder. He could feel the leather cutting into his wings and he knew they had broken skin. He pushed harder.

The saddle held firm.

By now, his vision had gone completely black and the unicorn was still yelling. Her volume had decreased slightly and Soarin hoped it meant she was calming down.

Gritting his teeth to try and hold the burning sensation in his wings at bay, Soarin continued to try and force his wings to unfold. For whatever reason, it was at that point that the true gravity of his situation hit him. He felt an emotion that he hadn’t experience in a long time.

He was scared.

Feeling his heart rate increase, Soarin found himself pushing erratically with his wings and hooves trying to get off the ground and out of the snow to draw breath. The sudden surge of adrenaline numbed the pain in his wings, but he still could not free himself from his entrapment. Even with all his might the spell still held him down completely.

It was at that point that he tried to call on his pegasus magic. As he had explained to nurse Redheart earlier, all pegasi have magic. The critical step in learning how to fly was learning how to instinctively connect with your magic. Some found this easier than others. Soarin, for example, had been flying since before he could walk, but he knew of others that did not make the connection until their early teens.

However, that was different from calling up your magic at will. Actually using the magic, rather than through instinct, was something that very few pegasus ever learned, much less mastered. It was like learning to move a limb you didn’t even know you had. The Wonderbolts made knowledge of its use a requirement for the team as it could drastically help in military situations – allowing for more efficiency and increased agility. There were also many combat maneuvers, mostly offensive, that made use of its potential.

Soarin had been so hesitant to try and call upon his own due to the storm. Because of its wild nature his magic powers effectiveness would abate, but at this point it didn’t matter anymore. It was all or nothing. He needed to breathe.

Calling upon magic as a pegasus is very different from a unicorn. Many have described it as feeling unnatural and eerie, compared to unicorns who have described theirs as almost erotic. Magic essence, in general, is uniformly spread throughout the body, not collecting near the heart as many fairytales would have you believe. Unicorns use their horn as foci to allow for them to draw upon their magic. Earth and pegasus ponies do not have this luxury.

Suddenly feeling like he had been sunk into a mucky and dreary ocean, Soarin knew that he had found his magic. Using every ounce of willpower he had, Soarin forced the viscous ‘water’ to his wings. He was specifically aiming from the part that was held down by the strap. He then pushed with all his might, both physically and mentally.

A reverberating snap thundered throughout Soarin’s head. The saddle had finally come apart. He quickly changed the flow of his magic so that it would coat the entirety of his wings. He purposely put more magic on his larger feathers for strength and less over his wounds to dampen their influence.

He then spread his wings. Although he would never admit it later, the storm, combined with the massive volume of snow covering them, made it one of the hardest things he had ever done. Finally, though sweat – and blood – he managed to open them and using all the magic he could find in his body, flapped his majestic wings as hard as he could.

When his head finally came free of the snow, Soarin drank in oxygen with massive undignified gulps. He mirrored a fish that had been caught on land for a substantial period before finding water again. Sputtering and coughing he collapsed onto the snow. His wings were still spread out on either side of him and the Wonderbolt’s vision was only just starting to reappear. He wasn’t sure why the tether had stopped pulling him down. His magic should not have been able to break the unicorn spell…

“Are you okay?” The voice came from above him, concern and confusion mixed in with the syllables like chocolate in a candy bar.

Soarin tried to respond, but could only answer with extreme wheezing and dry coughing. Even just attempting had left him feeling out of breath. Continuing to take deep breaths, he laid on the ground resembling a dying equine on its last legs of life.

“Soarin…?” The mare’s voice was solicitous and quiet. Her ears where drooping down as she carefully used a hoof to gently shake the Wonderbolts prone form.

Soarin elected to stay in his current position. While it was uncomfortably similar to the situation he had found himself trapped in just moments before, he was too tired to really care. He also needed the time to think. While he was sure that Twilight Sparkle had almost gotten him killed, he was also equally sure that the unicorn hadn’t meant it.

After a moment or two, his breath had slightly stabilized so Soarin flipped himself onto his back. He realized that while he definitely didn’t hate the unicorn, he just didn’t trust her either. “Just…remove the…the spell.” He paused to get his breath, “please?”

“Why, what happened?” The mares question was filled to the brim with innocence as her head angled slightly to the side in curiosity.

It was right then and there that Soarin decided that he would never tell the unicorn had close she had come to accidently killing him. She still had an important job to do and he would not destroy her confidence. That didn’t mean he would lie. “Your tether spell caught me unaware and knocked me to the ground. It took a lot of energy to get back up and tired me out. So could you please just remove the spell?”

He could tell that she didn’t completely believe him. Her purple eyes had narrowed in thought as she stared at his still prone form. For a fleeting, fear filled moment, Soarin thought that she might deny him his request, but in the end she nodded and the Wonderbolt felt the imaginary weight on his back disappear.

Giving himself only a moment more, Soarin stood up. They had wasted enough time and needed to get moving. He walked over to where Bon Bon’s saddle had fallen during his short flight and quickly slipped it back on. It wouldn’t easily stay on without the primary strap, but he was not going to lose the mare’s saddle. Not when she had trusted it to him. The rope that had been attached to it had come loose and was sprawled all over the snow. Seeing the rope reminded Soarin of yet another problem.

Eyes darting over the entire length of the snow-dusted rope Soarin let out a growl of contempt.

Why can’t anything ever go right! All night, bad event after bad event kept happening. He toyed with the idea that fate truly hated him. But then he wondered, was everything his fault? Am I just making bad decisions repeatedly?

…Is the filly going to die because of me?

It was at that moment that he noticed that there was a knot in the rope. Remembering that the rope was actually two smaller ones put together, it meant that they had over half of the rope in their possession. An idea coming to mind he quickly called out to Twilight Sparkle, “Okay, we have half the rope, which means that we can use it to find the other end or the hospital. How about we tie one end to me and the other to you, this way if I get lost I can find this spot again.”

“That’s way too time consuming, why don’t we…” Twilight was shaking her head back in forth.

Soarin ignored her and started unraveling the rope. He continued for a minute, but stopped when he heard an angered snort. Turning around to face the unicorn he asked, “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, you’re ignoring me.”

Soarin frowned. He was ignoring her because he didn’t trust any of her ideas right now. Not after she had almost got him killed through carelessness. “I already solved the problem,” was his simple response, voice a bit harsher than he was intending.

“Yes, poorly.” She didn’t say it as an insult but rather as an observer making an obvious deduction. If anything, that annoyed the Wonderbolt more.

“Oh and you can do better?”

The mare closed her eyes and sighed lightly. “I already have.” A piece of rope was dangling next to her, levitated by the unicorn.

Eyes darting around, Soarin quickly noticed that the rope that Twilight was holding was not connected to his own, which meant… Grumbling he gave her this one, “fine…”

“Good now let’s go.” The mare set off in the lead and Soarin followed behind her. He was tired and dragging his hoofs. It was surprisingly difficult to keep up with the light purple unicorn; the trials earlier had taken a lot out of him. He kept his wings extended and dragged them along in the snow. They were throbbing and he didn’t want to aggravate his wounds by folding them up. Besides, the cool snow felt heavenly on his feathers.

Soarin had no idea how she had found the other piece of rope, but figured that it had to be through magic. Even though it was petty and he was being stupid, he couldn’t help but try and point out something wrong with her plan. “You really shouldn’t have used magic to find the rope. You’re going to need everything you got to help the filly.”

Twilight didn’t even seem even remotely bothered and kept trotting along. “Oh I calculated that it would be better to use the small amount of magic to find and pull the rope to me than the go through with your inane solution. Since the spell gets harder with time, this is actually the wiser option.”

Sighing loudly, Soarin figured it was no longer worth the effort trying to one up Twilight. Instead he walked, muscles screaming bloody murder, in relative silence. Grinding his teeth and closing his eyes, Soarin perked up his ears, hoping to follow the unicorn with sound. After a moment, with the pain refusing to abate, and boredom settling in Soarin told Twilight, “I’m surprised that you knew my name earlier.”

“Oh why’s that?”

“From what I understand you spend all your time studying, I didn’t think something like stunt-shows or celebrities would interest you.”

“Actually, Wonderbolt shows are a recent guilty pleasure of mine, the aerodynamics are amazing. I’ve been trying to model the flight paths and air currents with my magic but it’s slow going. I’m having a tough time simulating whenever one of you uses flight magic. I thought about employing Isaacs Neighton’s second law of magic but…”

As time went on Soarin tried to continue to pay attention, but the words were starting to become one huge mixture, a blur of incomprehensible sounds. His exhaustion had already caught up with him and Soarin was fighting a losing battle.

It was the only reason that could use to explain the felicity that Soarin felt when he realized that they had reached the front door of the hospital. He was so affected by his euphoria that tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes. Following Twilight inside, he stopped, and with a feeling of déjà vu, placed a kiss on the wooden frame.

He doubted he would ever harbor similar feelings about a door again. He was fine with that.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

After they had arrived, Twilight had quickly disappeared down the hallway, following the doctor toward Scootaloo’s room. Soarin, on the other-hoof, had collapsed down on the sofa breathing deeply. He continued to keep his wings open and dropped the saddle on the ground next to his position. Closing his eyes, he prepared to take a nap – enjoying the soft brown cloth with a reverence he would normally have never felt.

Unfortunately, just as Soarin let out a complacent sigh and started to drift into the sea of dreams, a shrill, yet concerned, voice caused a tidal wave to deter him from his intended course.

“What did you do to your wings mister!?” Nurse Redheart’s voice was merciless and reminded Soarin of some of his drill instructors. It was a tone that left no leeway for argument; it was going to be answered, period.

“Uhhhh…” Soarin slowly opened one eye and tried to stall for time. He wasn’t sure what he should say. He momentarily debated about telling her the truth of what had happened, but was worried that she would take it badly. After all, she was the one who had basically forced the saddle on him. If she found out that it had almost killed him… He couldn’t put her through that anguish so he bent the truth a bit. “I made a sudden movement and caused the straps of the saddle to cut into me.”

“These cuts are moderately deep, how could you have possibly jerked yourself hard enough to do that much damage?” Her voice was filled with disbelief. “And why is the saddle broken? There is no way a ‘sudden movement’ did that.”

“Uhhhh…” Soarin didn’t want to outright lie so he came up with the next best solution. “It’s complicated,” Soarin said with a nervous smile.

“Complicated?” Her voice had become strained and annoyed, like she was dealing with a difficult child.

“Yup,” Soarin put as much cheer into his voice as he could.

After a moment Redheart, shockingly, relented. “Very well, follow me; we need to get you cleaned up.”

Soarin really didn’t want to have to get up – he had just sunk into the cushions – but he knew that his wounds needed to be dealt with. Standing, Soarin let out a moan of disappointment as his muscles protested the movement. Too much more action and my muscles are going to throw a revolution.

Soarin followed Nurse Redheart toward an empty room. He closed his eyes and followed the sound of her hoof steps. After far too much time – in Soarin’s opinion – the two ponies came to a room, almost identical to the room that Scootaloo was located it. Redheart, upon entering, pointed toward one of the two beds in the room. Following her command, the Wonderbolt moved over and plopped down on the side of the bed. It was surprisingly soft and comfortable, unlike the hospitals he was used to. Feeling his eyes droop, Soarin decided to start up a conversation to better keep himself aware.

“So where is Spike? I didn’t see him in the lobby earlier.”

Nurse Redheart moved to the other side of the bed and started examining his wings before answering, “He was there all right. You must have missed him.”

“Oh…” Redheart’s hooves over his wings were distracting him. It felt so good that he had a tough time formulating any discernable speech. Before he knew it, his eyes were starting to close again. He just needed to rest them for one minute…

“There all done!”

“Huh” Soarin jumped slightly, confused.

“Oh you dosed off, but no need to worry I fixed you up.” Nurse Redheart’s voice had lost its hostile edge and was back to its sweetened state. “Although, you should stay off those wings for a few days so they can recover.”

Getting off the bed, Soarin stretched out. Glancing over his back, he saw that the nurse had bandaged up his wings only where the cuts had been. This left the majority of their surface still free. No longer seeing any good reason to keep then extended, Soarin finally folded up his wings. He winced slightly when they came together, but it was more through irritation rather than sharp pain. Even so, it seemed that flying over the next couple of days was going to be awkward at best. Spitfire was going to kill him.

“So how long was I sleeping for?”

Nurse Redheart had her back to the pegasus and was cleaning something. She still answered almost immediately, “Not too long, around twenty minutes or so.”

“How is the filly doing?”

The nurse hesitated a moment before answering. “I’m not sure, they are still doing preparation. They should be getting ready to cast the spell soon.”

“Ah there you two are.” Hearing the new voice both the Wonderbolt and Redheart turned and faced the door. Doctor Horse was standing there looking relieved. “I have been looking for you Soarin. If you could, please follow me.”

Soarin took a moment to analyze Redheart. By her confused and thoughtful expression, he assumed that she hadn’t known that the doctor was looking for him. Hoping that it had something to do with the filly and that he may be of some help, Soarin quickly followed the doctor down the hallway.

Before Soarin knew it, they had reached a large wooden door. It resembled most of the others in the hospital, but all of them had unique markings naturally engraved into them. Soarin immediately recognized this as the doorway that had led to Scootaloo’s room earlier. He would never forget the intricate pony and animal carvings; there was even one of a gryphon with resonating green eyes, reminding him much of himself.

As Soarin moved to open the door, he was stopped as Dr. Horse raised one hoof in front of the Wonderbolt’s chest.

“Wait,” the doctor took a steading breath before continuing. “We have concluded the preliminary requirements. The spell is ready to be cast. However, somepony needs to keep young Scootaloo awake and engaged. If her brain is sitting passive the chances of this working drop drastically. Originally, I was going to talk to her while Twilight worked, but Scootaloo asked if you were still around. Will you talk with her?”

With a small, amused shake of his head and a chuckle Soarin said, “I’m surprised you even had to ask.”

Dr. Horse nodded in agreement. “Better to give the illusion of choice. Now let’s go.”

The door was opened. Moving forward, Soarin noticed that Twilight appeared nervous yet determined. She had a book propped up on the window sill and her eyes were darting across the pages. Her lips were moving and he could hear mumbling coming from her. Scattered all around were a plethora of books. Soarin had no idea how she could have fit them all in her saddlebags. Glancing around, he saw that the orange filly was sitting up in her bed eyes twinkling with excitement as she watched him.

It always surprised him how much children looked up to him. When he took his oath for the Wonderbolts it was something that he had never really thought about. No one had ever told him about being a role model.

“So cool!” The filly was bouncing up and down in excitement. Her voice was surprisingly strong considering what she had been though earlier in the day. The power of youth was truly remarkable.

The doctor gave his quick farewell and stepped out the door, leaving them alone. Twilight was still standing in her corner and muttering to herself. Soarin toyed with the idea of sending the unicorn some type of signal or something, but figured she would act when ready. Instead, he turned his attention to the eager filly.

“How’re you feeling there kiddo?” He approached the side of her bed, making sure to keep his gaze on her, so she knew he was interested in what she had to say.

“Just fine, my head feels kinda itchy but I don’t need to stay here anymore! I’m tough and can take care of myself.”

“Of that I have no doubt, but sometimes accepting help shows more strength than standing alone.” It was a quote from Spitfire, one that had always stuck around in his mind.

The filly ignored him, “Ah huh, so what’s it like being a Wonderbolt! You can tell me all your secrets. I won’t tell anypony, promise!” Her voice was so energetic that it helped remove Soarin’s own hesitations. Enthusiasm was contagious after all.

“Well, normally I tell ponies about our routines and basic flying. Some of the lucky ones might hear about some tricks and formations, but I was thinking about telling you something I have never told anypony ever. The true secret of our success.” The filly’s purple eyes had grown huge at this and made a boisterous grin grow on Soarins face. She was adorably cute. “I’m just not sure I can trust you, after all, it is extremely important.”

“You can trust me, I swear! I’ll even Pinkie Pie swear! Come on tell me, PLEASE!” Soarin felt his mischievous smile change into slight confusion. He had no idea what a Pinkie Pie swear was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Twilight approach the other side of the bed. Rarely had the Wonderbolt seen the level of determination that glowed on the unicorns face. She was also wearing some type of tiara. It was cast from gold, mixed with smaller opals and supporting a large star shaped ruby above it.

Turning back to Scootaloo, Soarin decided to change the topic of conversation. He wasn’t sure if the hospital had told the young pony what she was undergoing. “Maybe later Scootaloo, but right now…” Soarin said only to be interrupted by a squeal.

“You know my name.” Her mouth was open in awe. “That’s so awesome!”

“Mmmhmm, now Twilight is going to help you, all you need to do is relax, okay?” Soarin tried to speak as gently as he could.

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” The filly tried to keep a strong face, but Soarin saw fear flash across her features.

Twilight saved him from having to answer. Her voice was ethereal in its presentation, just like a goddess. “Nothing much sweetie, I just need you to keep talking to your friend and try to relax okay? This might feel a little weird.”

Watching the fear in the filly’s eyes Soarin could tell she didn’t completely believe her. Making a quick decision he quickly removed his goggles from around his neck and held them out to the filly, “Here take these, they might help.”

The filly looked at them, completely flabbergasted, and said, in an astounded voice, “For me?” Her eyes were tracing all over the piece of flight equipment, pausing on the Wonderbolts seal and Soarin’s own name elegantly engraved on the side.

“Yup, here let me help you.” Soarin stood up and, with careful precision, looped the goggles around the filly’s head. He placed them over her mane, rather than under so that they weren’t as obnoxiously large on her. Even so, Soarin was satisfied since it wasn’t practicality that he was aiming for.

Smiling, Soarin watched the filly as she tried to mutter thanks, but was unable to find the words to do so. Seeing Twilights horn start to glow, along with the gems in her headpiece, the Wonderbolt quickly launched into a story, hoping to keep the filly enraptured.

“I remember the first pair of official flight goggles I got. It’s something of a coming of age for a Wonderbolt. Everypony makes a real big deal out of it. Well, right before I got mine, I was stuck with this dumb exploration mission. Of course it had to…”

Pausing in his story the stallion looked around briefly. Twilight wasn’t blinking and beads of sweet had started to form on her face. The glow from her horn was an intense purple, which seemed to be vibrating slightly from exertion. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes, Soarin watched Scootaloo, eyes closed and shaking – whether from pain or irritation, he wasn’t sure.

In hopes of alleviating some of her pain Soarin reached across the bed and grabbed one of the filly’s hooves with his own. She flinched and slightly backed away from the contact for a brief moment before accepting it. Hoping that he gave the orange pegasus some emotional support, the Wonderbolt continued with his tale.

While telling his story he alternated between watching Scootaloo and watching Twilight. The unicorn was growing more nervous by the second, movements becoming more erratic and strained. Shifting, Soarin pulled his hoof slightly back from the filly, only to have her hold on erratically in her distress.

Pausing in his tale Soarin heard the filly speak reticently, “Don’t leave me, please…”

There was pain in the words that made Soarin’s heart break. Hearing her speak like that made the Wonderbolt curse the cruelty of the world. No child, under any circumstance should sound like that, ever. “I won’t…I promise.”

The filly didn’t seem completely reassured and waited a moment before asking quietly, “Promise…?”

Remembering their conversation from earlier in the day he repeated his same words, “Of course, I never go back on my word.”

Suddenly, the glow from Twilight stopped and the filly slowly opened her eyes. Soarin felt his ears start to droop down. The unicorn had a hoof on her chin and was muttering to herself. In hopes of distracting the filly so that Twilight could think, he tried to grab the filly’s attention. Seeing a piece of paper nearby, a smile grew as he grabbed it, “I believe I owed you an autograph, yes?”

The filly’s eyes regained some of the spark they had contained earlier as they increased in size. “That would be so cool.”

Chuckling, the Wonderbolt quickly grabbed a pen off of a nearby clipboard and wrote: The only thing that can stop you from fulfilling your dreams is you. Believe in yourself and the impossible becomes possible. Forever your friend, Soarin

Soarin handed the paper the filly and smiled down on her. She read the writing with flashing eyes before pausing and looking up into his green eyes. “My father used to say the same thing.”

Soarin took note of the word choice. “Then he is a smart pony.”

“Scootaloo?” Twilight voice reverberated from the other side of the bed. She was speaking using a calm voice and a sweet smile. Her horn was slightly glowing as she watched the young pony.

The filly turned and looked at the unicorn, “Yes Tw…Twilight?” She let out a huge yawn before succumbing to sleep.

Soarin watched Twilight with narrowed eyes and a calculated scowl on his face, he remembered the doctor explicitly saying that Scootaloo was to remain awake for the operation. What is she doing? The mare had her eyes closed and was breathing deeply – she was also mumbling under her breath with words Soarin couldn’t make out. At that time, her mannerism reminded Soarin of a martyr; someone that was going to make a massive irreversible decision, but believed so strongly, they would never be deterred.

Watching her take one last surging breath, she paused and started to cast yet again. Her horn started to glow, but instead of simply illuminating with the typical color of her aura – light purple – it was also mixed in with fragments of gold, red and blue, which came from the tiara on her head. She also started to chant in a language that Soarin wasn’t knowledgeable of.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of what she was doing.

Is she really casting that spell? But, how is that even possible? I thought Princess Celestia was the only one capable…

Watching, the amazing lightshow of colors reflecting in his eyes, Soarin felt any lingering hostility he had toward the unicorn evaporate at that very moment.

Twilight’s mystic aura reached out, animated as though it was alive, and surrounded the filly. The gold flecks that were mixed into the other colors, slowly and majestically turned deep scarlet red. The density of the magic soon became thick enough that the filly disappeared, cocooned by a sheet of swirling purple and red – locked in transcendent beauty. The two colors started to mix together and when the concoction became solidly maroon, suddenly exploded outward with a bright bang.

Instinctively, Soarin shut his eyes and folded his ears to try and stop the ringing. After a moment of silence, he experimentally reopened his eyes. Twilight was again trying to cast a spell of some type with her horn aimed toward the filly. Seeing her shaking knees, and sweet covered mane, he quickly jumped over by her side to give her support.

Just as Twilight was finishing her spell, the door to the room shot open as Dr. Horse and Nurse Redheart entered, both out of breath. “What happened, we heard some sort of disturbance?”

Twilight, leaning most of her weight on the Wonderbolt, responded, “It’s nothing to worry about, it’s over.”

Soarin wasn’t quite sure whether to interpret those words as positive or negative. Twilight spoke with such exhaustion edging her voice that her words were barely coherent, much less filled with any emotion.

“So…it worked?”

Twilight took a stabilizing breath before answering, “Not in the way we intended, but yes she will live, hopefully for a long time.”

“How?” By the tone of his voice, Soarin could tell that Dr. Horse didn’t believe Twilight.

“In the morning, I’m too tired right now.” The purple pony gave a tiny cough. “It’s true what they say, time is a fickle friend.” She chuckled, head hung low in exhaustion.

Dr. Horse took one long calculating look at the mare resting on Soarin. “I need to run the tests again, even if Twilight thinks she was successful, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He turned away from then and started approaching various apparatuses on the wall. “It’s late, why don’t you two get some rest, you have both had an extremely trying day. Nurse Redheart, if you would.”

The white mare agreed staunchly with the doctor. “Of course, doctor. Would you like anything before I return?”

“Some coffee would be appreciated.”

Nodding, the nurse turned toward Twilight and Soarin and said, “Come on you two, I can set you each up in an empty patient room.”

Carefully moving forward, Soarin made sure to take most of Twilights weight onto his own body. He was tired too, but if his suspicions regarding the spell she cast were true, than she was going to need the help. The nurse led them back down the hallway toward the lobby. Thankfully, it wasn’t very far until she stopped in front of a door. She turned with a smile on her face and said cheerfully, “Here we go, Twilight can stay here.”

A quiet, disbelieving voice came from behind the white pony, “Twilight is that you?” It was Spike and his eyes were as huge as saucers.

Upon hearing the voice, Twilights ears perked up and see looked over at the purple dragon. “Spike?” The dragon responded with a nod of his head and a smile, before opening his mouth to speak again. Unfortunately for Spike, Twilight beat him to it. “What are you doing up! It’s past your bed time mister!”

Soarin was shocked that she had enough energy to be that loud. It wasn’t quite shouting, but it was close. The expression on Redheart’s face pointed to similar thoughts, although she seemed deeply approving of what Twilight had said.

Spike, who at the moment, reminded Soarin of a child that had one hoof in the cookie jar, simply looked at the floor and said, “Oh man,” as Twilight looked disapprovingly down at him. She lifted up one hoof and pointed to the room that the nurse had just shown them. With a sigh, the dragon walked in and was followed by a Soarin-assisted Twilight. After helping get her situated, the Wonderbolt left the room with the nurse, who quickly showed him the adjacent room and bid him good night.

Stepping in and closing the door behind him, Soarin let out a monstrous sigh. It had been one extremely long day. He was happy to finally get out of his flight suit, as the enchanted material had started to become extremely itchy and irritating after such prolong use. Carefully folding the material up – Spitfire hated wrinkles – he set the uniform down on the dresser next to the bed.

He then sat on the bed and stretched his hooves out in all directions, before slowly laying down to protect his wings. He still couldn’t believe that the day was finally over. Twilight had said that the filly was going to be okay and nopony was permanently injured. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Soarin let himself drift into oblivion.

He never noticed the black raven watching him from the window – feathers hung low in disappointment.

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