> The ruins of Las Pegasus
>  by Peace Petal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t usually take the elevator. Indoors, I took the stairs. Outdoors, I flew. I hadn’t used the lifts that carried ponies to the different terraces of Zephyr Heights in weeks. But today was an exception. I didn’t want to use my wings just yet. The elevator stopped with a little ding at the top of the highest terrace of ZH, level with the base of the Royal Castle.

I was the only pony to step off the elevator. The sun wasn’t up yet. It was summer, but at these altitudes the mornings were cold. A breeze whipped my scarf around. After I was robbed in Bridlewood Forest, I had bought a new scarf. I had over a dozen scarves, but I wanted one that really expressed who I was. I had settled on one that was striped black, gray, white, and purple. The asexual flag.

That had been an unexpected moment, when I realized I was asexual. I had spent my whole life not understanding that there was a difference between sexual arousal and sexual attraction. As soon as I read a clear definition of sexual attraction, I knew I had never felt it. Looking back, all my life made more sense. If only they explained these things in school or church, I would have figured it out a decade ago. All those years, stuttering through some bogus answer when colts asked, “Who’s your celebrity crush?” As it turned out, I wasn’t just “weird.” There was a word for ponies like me.

I trotted out to the westward edge of the cliff. The breeze blew northward, stronger than I had anticipated. I should have checked the weather beforehoof. Well, I wasn’t backing out now. I had a fetlock compass, a saddlebag with lunch and a map, and a long weekend. It was time to fly.

I had an odd relationship with flight. I had been rather obsessed with it before the magic was restored. I knew quite a lot about birds and their aerodynamics. But of course, I was no athlete. When the magic was restored, I simply didn’t have the time or the fitness to become the best flier out there. Still, I flew to get around quite a lot, and I flew for leisure often as well. I wasn’t bad, except for one thing.

Magic. I was really bad at magic. All pegasi used magic to fly, including me. But I seemed to use it less than other ponies, just enough to compensate for the weight of my scrawny body. I didn’t really think about it when I flew, and if I did think about it, nothing changed. Other pegasi could focus on their flight magic to defy physics, hovering or lifting more than they normally could. But it just wouldn’t come for me.

Using less magic to fly had its perks, though. My wings were stronger than most because I used them so much. I also had better endurance than other pegasi. Most of my family and friends could go for half an hour or so before taking a break. But I could just fly, keep flying, and fly some more. Now that I was back in shape after my hospital stay in Bridlewood Forest, I wasn’t even sure how far I could go. But I was about to find out.

Could I fly for half a day? Or a full day? If I could, that’d be a skill I would use, and use often. By my calculations, if I kept up even a leisurely pace for five hours, I would reach Bridlewood Forest. I had already finished my research there, but it was a nice place and I’d like to visit. I didn’t have the time to trot there—I was still pushing that plant ID book through the publication process—and I didn’t have the money to get a balloon or chariot. Aerodynamically—and that did matter, even though pegasi used magic to fly—my wings were built for long-distance flying. Their shape was similar to that of a tern. Terns could fly from pole to pole. Surely I could make it to Bridlewood, right?

Standing at the edge of the cliff, I stretched out my wings. Cold air rushed past my feathers, which I had preened earlier this morning. My heart beat quicker in anticipation. The cloudless sky was already light, but I had some time before direct sunlight. The rugged mountains and foothills beneath Zephyr Heights all seemed gray in this lighting, although I knew many of the rocks down there were actually tan or red.

I jumped, giving a few hard flaps to speed up. For now, the wind rushing past me made me shiver, but I knew my body would heat up quickly. Once I got going, my high aspect ratio wings kept me aloft without too much work. I could feel air flowing above and below my wings, rustling my feathers, keeping me aloft through the power of Berneighli’s principle. I checked the compass on my right foreleg and aligned myself with the heading I had marked earlier. I had to adjust my angle a little bit to compensate for the wind coming from my left.

I settled into an easy cruise with regular wingbeats and rhythmic breathing. My eyes scanned the increasingly distant ground. I wasn’t climbing, but the mountains dropped away into plains over time. I would have to keep my eyes out for a few landmarks to make sure I didn’t deviate off course. Over these distances, if I were even a degree off I could miss my target by a huge margin.

The sky was getting brighter, especially behind me. It happened rather suddenly. Warmth on my wings. Light filled the sky around me, although the ground was still in shadow. I glanced behind me and saw a brilliant point of light peeking out from behind the mountains. A few cirrus clouds had formed back there, glowing white against the pink sky. “Ah, what a beautiful world!” I called out.

A few minutes later, sunlight advanced across the ground below me. Fields of grasses and flowers lit up. I could see the colors from here, vague streaks of blue, red, yellow, and white on a green canvas. As I continued, my body temperature shifted from cold to warm, then hot. Although the air was still cold, the summer sun was powerful and the exercise heated up my body. Not hot enough for me to sweat, though. I could keep this pace for a long time yet. I turned my head and found the mouthpiece of my hydration pack. I took a quick swig.

Puffy, white cumulus clouds formed here and there. The land rolled underneath me. A sparkling river here, a patch of dark forest there. I checked my compass occasionally and looked around for my first landmark, a newly repaired bridge that spanned a canyon. But before I saw the canyon, I saw a pile of ominous, gray clouds ahead. Cumulonimbus. Storm clouds.

If I deviated from my course, I would have trouble getting back on track. I wasn’t about to go through or under them. I enjoyed a good thunderstorm on the ground, but I had never flown through one. So, then, over it was. Beating my wings harder, I angled upwards towards the top of the clouds. This was another area where I was my flying abilities were untested: How high could I go? The cumulonimbus clouds topped off not far above me, so I wasn’t about to find my limit today. One personal flight record per day was plenty for me.

My breathing became labored as I climbed. Those clouds were getting closer, but their tops were still above me. “Oh, hay,” I muttered. The clouds were building up. I should have expected that from cumulonimbus clouds. Panting, I increased the angle of my climb. My wings were aching, my lungs and throat were burning, my heart was pounding. I needed a break. But there were no clouds below me nearby. Just this storm, reaching higher and higher.

Now I was sweating. Getting nervous, too. Breathing was getting harder. The air was getting thinner, wasn’t it? It was certainly getting colder, even though it was closer to noon. I was starting to feel lightheaded. Those clouds were nearly right in front of me. I couldn’t see the top because of the way they billowed and curved. I angled further upwards, climbing nearly without moving forward. My hooves touched the edge of the clouds. Now I was half running, half flying up the curved slope of the clouds.

Suddenly I broke over a ridge and the cloud dropped away from me. This was the top! I snapped my wings to my side and unceremoniously dropped onto the cloud. It shifted and churned underneath me, but I could still stand on it. Distant thunder rolled through the air. I stood, wobbly-kneed, panting and sweating. I spit out a wad of foul-tasting saliva. I reached into my saddlebag and greedily drank huge gulps of water. “That was unpleasant,” I mumbled.

I locked my legs and relaxed for a standing rest. The cloud was probably taking me higher still, but I needed a break before continuing. I stood there, slowing my breathing. I stretched out my wings, which ached like my legs would after a whole day of trotting. I reached into my saddlebag and grabbed a mouthful of oats. I chewed that down and looked around.

I was in the middle of nowhere, on top of a storm. I couldn’t just stay. Should I go back to Zephyr Heights? No. I still had some juice left in me. Endurance was my thing. The sudden need for power rather than steady flying had done me a number, but after resting I felt well enough to continue. I shivered. The sun was brilliant up here, but it was frigid and I was covered in sweat. How high had I come? I had no reference point; the mountains had long since faded out of view. Storm clouds could reach all the way up to the tropopause, although this one did not yet have the telltale anvil shape.

I checked my compass and aligned with the mark I had made earlier. I galloped forward on the cloud and took off again. I glided down as the clouds fell out from beneath me. The air gradually became warmer, although I leveled off high enough that the trees were still just specks. Patchy clouds continued to cover much of the landscape. The canyon was nowhere in sight. I had probably passed it while I was climbing above the storm. I checked my compass and adjusted course for the second landmark, a distinct rock formation. Hopefully I was still close enough to my course that I would see it. If these clouds ever cleared out.

I flew on, trying to save my energy. I saw a few more cumulus clouds turning stormy, but none of the others were in my path. I started wondering how long I had been in the air. The sun wasn’t at its apex yet, but it was getting close. I thought I would arrive in Bridlewood around noon, but I wasn’t even 60% of the way there until I reached the rock formation. Was I flying slower than I had expected? Or had the storm slowed me down that much?

I decided I need to get underneath the clouds and look around for that rock formation. I gradually descended. Wait, could I… fly through clouds? I could stand on top of them. Would they just be solid to me because of pegasus magic? I slowed down as I was about to go through a cloud. Putting my hooves in front of me, I slowly advanced. There was a soft, fluffy resistance before my hooves started to sink inside the cloud. No, that wasn’t going to work. Not wanting to go around and get off course, I dove straight down.

I was surprised how rapidly I accelerated. Wind whipped past face, drawing tears from eyes. My scarf flapped around crazily. I reached the bottom of the cloud, and I quickly pulled up. I felt strain in my wings, and for a moment my vision went foggy. Well, that was a thing, I thought.

I looked around as my vision cleared. I saw a landscape with patches of sunlight and shade. But where was the rock formation? I slowed down and carefully scanned the land, starting ahead of me. I was doing this for a few minutes, but I hadn’t seen anything. It wasn’t behind me, was it? Or maybe I overestimated how far I had come. I looked more to the left and right. A jagged patch of land caught my eye to the right. That was the rock formation, way off on the edge of the horizon. I turned towards it and accelerated. Good thing I planned to follow landmarks. If I had continued that far off course, I would have ended up over unsettled forest with no idea where the unicorn town was.

I kept my eyes towards the ground until the rock formation was right underneath me. Feeling a little daring, I did a snap roll 270° to the right, turning me left towards Bridlewood Forest. I came out of it a little wobbly, but grinning. I checked my compass and found that I had come about 40° too far. Fine. I righted myself and inclined up towards a better cruising altitude where the air was cooler and thinner. As I climbed, I could feel echoing aches in my pectoralis majors from the climb up over the storm. I impatiently leveled out probably a little lower than where I had been cruising before.

Continuing, my wing muscles still felt burned out. So this was it, then. I could trot for several hours after I felt tired—I loved a good mountain hike. But this wasn’t trotting; it was flying. My wing muscles weren’t as well developed as my leg muscles, and flight was closer to a canter in terms of the energy expended. Even my legs were getting tired of holding up in an aerodynamic position. I turned my head and took a swig of water. It looked to be about noon. I had time to rest if I needed to, but I’d rather not lose the altitude I gained.

I kept on flying straight until there happened to be a cloud right underneath me. That was too good to pass up. I gently landed on the soft, white puff. Clouds beat pillows and mattresses any day. But I stayed standing for a quick nap. If I lay down, I could end up sleeping longer than I intended. Locking the stay apparatus in my legs, I folded my wings against my body and let my head droop.

When I stirred awake again, the sun didn’t seem to have moved much. Good, I didn’t want to lose too much time. I shoved my muzzle into my saddlebag and grabbed some more oats. I was still hungry, but I didn’t want to eat too much. A drink of water, and I was ready. I stretched out my wings. Still sore. Yeah, I would be feeling this flight for days. But I was sure I had the energy to get to Bridlewood. I hopped and took off.

After half a day, the rhythm of flying was getting a little monotonous. My brain wandered. I wouldn’t be able to fly back to Zephyr Heights today. I had brought a couple of gemstones to be able to stay the night in Bridlewood Forest. But I really didn’t want to spend them. Maybe Izzy would let me stay with her? I didn’t like to be a parasite, but I would have several hours of down time. Maybe I could do some chores for her or something.

I thought more clearly when flying, I had discovered. My brain moved better when the rest of me was moving. So when my thoughts drifted over to my work, I had some insights on how I could improve the wording of a part of that Plant Species of Bridlewood Forest book I was working on. I would have to write these thoughts down when I landed. After a while, however, my brain kept coming back to the pain in my chest muscles. I didn’t want to flap down anymore. It felt like doing the hundredth push-up when I had wanted to quit at fifty. I was trying to lengthen the gap between wingbeats, but that meant I had to beat harder each time.

I saw something dark on the ground ahead, way out at the edge of my distance. Was that… Bridlewood? Yes, it had to be. I laid back on the wingbeats, letting myself slowly lose altitude. Finally, I was almost there. As I came closer, I started looking for the road that led into the forest to the town. Yes, there it was, off to the left. I gently banked towards it. The air grew sweltering hot as I lost elevation. It was humid, too, unlike in ZH this morning. However, it became noticeably cooler when I got over the forest. Ah, good old evapotranspiration.

I had come down a little too fast, so I had to level out above the treetops before arriving at the town. I dove down through an opening in the canopy and landed on the street. The unicorns nearby jumped in surprise. Still not used to pegasi. But not hostile, either, except whoever had hit me with a memory wipe and robbed me the last time I was here. What a jerk.

I stood in the middle of the road for a little bit. I gingerly folded my sore wings against my body. I was panting and sweating, and my stomach was rumbling. Not an easy flight. But I had just flown to Bridlewood Forest! Having wings that worked was nice.
> Chapter Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I looked around, trying to orient myself in the town. I recognized a shop at the corner of the block. I turned in the direction of the Crystal Tea Room and started at a gentle walk. I felt like steam was coming off my body, and my legs were stiff. Eventually I arrived at the Crystal Tea Room. Dim lighting, a poet reciting with chill drums, and the fragrance of tea. Yes, this was a good place to relax and eat lunch.

I walked to the counter and waved a wing at the shop owner, Alphabittle. “Do you have lemon verbena?” I said.

“Of course,” Alphabittle said. “Welcome back, Peace. I like your scarf. Is it new?”

“Yeah, I got it a couple weeks ago,” I said. “Can you do iced lemon verbena? No milk, no honey.”

“Coming up,” Alphabittle said. I looked around for an empty table, but a pony caught my eye. A unicorn mare with a bay coat and gray mane, sitting by herself, muzzle in a book. It was Dust, the librarian.

I walked up to her table and said, “Hey, Dust. I’ve never seen you here before. Unless I have, and I forgot.”

“Huh?” Dust said, placing a bookmark and looking up. “What’s up, Peace?”

“Can I sit here?” I said.

“Why not?” Dust said. I sat on the low cushion next to the table. “What got you perspiring? Were you galloping?” I remembered that she had a funny way of talking. It sounded like her mouth was half-closed when she spoke, and she almost always spoke in questions, even when answering a question.

“Flying, actually,” I said. “I came here from Zephyr Heights.”

“How long did that take you?” Dust asked.

I reached into my saddlebag and found my watch. I wasn’t sure how long it took to walk to the Crystal Tea Room, so I had to guess. “About six hours,” I said. I took off the compass around my fetlock and put it in the bag.

“What are you doing in Bridlewood Forest?” Dust asked. “Didn’t you finish your research here?”

“Just visiting,” I said. “I’ll fly back to Zephyr Heights tomorrow.”

Dust took a sip of tea. Alphabittle showed up with my cup. “Oh, I forgot to bring unicorn bits,” I said. “Do you have change for an emerald?”

“We’ve actually started taking pegasus bits,” Alphabittle said. “It’ll be 2.50, if you want to pay that way.” I did the math in my head. At a standard exchange rate, the tea’s price in pegasus bits was higher than its price in unicorn bits. But it wasn’t higher than the percentage the bank took out to convert bits to gemstones. I muzzled around in my saddlebag and found two bits and a 50ȼ coin. The coins in my mouth lit up as Alphabittle levitated them away. “Enjoy your tea,” Alphabittle said, walking away.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. I retrieved my lunch from my saddlebag: a cucumber and daisy sandwich, an apple, and assorted nuts. I started eating, occasionally sipping some tea.

“What are you up to while you’re here?” Dust asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can stick around until about noon tomorrow. But I didn’t make any plans because I didn’t know how long the flight would take.”

Dust’s green eyes looked right into mine and she said, “Will you please help me?”

The way she said it made me a little nervous. “I’d love to help you, Dust,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten how you helped me get on track with my research after I lost my memories. And I still have the notebook you bought me, right here in this saddlebag.”

“You’re an… outdoorsy pony, right?” Dust said.

“I just flew from ZH to Bridlewood,” I said. “So I’ll accept that adjective.”

“Will you go on a hike with me?” Dust said. She looked around and lowered her voice. “Is it normal for ponies to abhor going outside so much that shopping for groceries is frightening? How do I even commence in dealing with this problem? Do you think if you helped me see the splendor of nature I’d be able to tolerate it more? I need somepony to go with me, because who knows what could go wrong? How do you even… prepare for a hike? Could I break a leg? Do you know how difficult it is to heal a fractured leg? Will I get melanoma from UV radiation? Will I get EIA from a horse fly?” Her speaking and breathing were accelerating. “What if I—”

“Slow down,” I said firmly. “Nature isn’t all that dangerous, especially if you know what you’re doing. I’ll gladly go on a hike with you, and I promise nothing bad will happen.”

“How can you promise that?” Dust said.

“We won’t do anything risky,” I said. “We’ll be in no more danger than we are here. Yes, somepony in here could be a serial killer who’s about to throw fire spells around. But I’m reasonably confident that it won’t happen.”

“What do we need to do to get ready?” Dust asked.

“First we should pick out a trail to hike,” I said.

“Does this work?” Dust said. She levitated a paper that was shoved into her book and unfolded it. It was nearly as big as the table. She ran a highlighter on part of it and passed it to me. It was a detailed map of hiking trails around Bridlewood Forest with one trail highlighted. I took a look at the contour lines and the scale of the map. By my standards, this was an easy hike. But it was always hard for me to remember how far a pony who never hiked could go.

“There are easier hikes around,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to start with something smaller?”

“With you around, isn’t this my opportunity to try something ambitious?” Dust said. “Anyway, would little hikes really help me? Is that different from the promenades around town that I’ve already started doing?”

“Alright,” I said. “It’s not really a hard hike, either. I believe that you can do it.”

“What else do we need to get ready?” Dust asked. I munched on my apple.

“Some trail food,” I said. “You’ll need a hydration pack, and we’ll want some iodine tablets. Insect repellant. You’ll want some sunscreen for the white splotch on your face.”

“Do you mind if I buy all that for both of us?” Dust said.

“Um, that’s very generous of you,” I said. “Oh, one more thing we need. Horseshoes.”

“I have some leather shoes,” Dust said. “Do you want to see them and tell me if they’re the right kind?”

“Not leather shoes,” I said. “Horseshoes.”

“Wait, like… nails?” Dust said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Dirt and rocks will get inside normal shoes, and they’ll just slip off. If you were more used to hiking, maybe you wouldn’t need horseshoes for a hike this length. But for you, they’ll be an absolute necessity. I’ll get them too, so you don’t have to do it alone.”

“But… won’t it hurt?” Her voice was trembling. “How do I ever take them off?”

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” I said. “I’ve gotten them before. They can pull the nails out afterwards, and eventually the hoof will grow back until the nail prints are totally gone. Alternatively, you can just leave the horseshoe in if you want to go hiking some more later on. They’re not uncomfortable at all. I would recommend replacing them after a month or two, though, so you can file your hooves to keep them from getting too long or uneven.”

“Do I have to?” Dust said.

“If you want to hike this trail, definitely,” I said.

Dust slammed her head on the table and groaned. “Will you come with me to the farrier?” she said.

“Of course,” I said. I finished my sandwich. “Do you want to do that first and get it over with?”

Dust groaned again as she folded the map away and put the book in her saddlebag. “I don’t suppose you have any recommendations for the best farrier in Bridlewood Forest?”

“If I went to a farrier here, it was before the memory wipe,” I said.

Dust sighed and trotted towards the door. I downed what was left of my tea and followed her. She froze at the door for a moment before stepping out into the sunlight. I couldn’t help but feel bad for her. She cringed in the sunlight, looking down. She stepped gingerly, like she didn’t want to get dirt on her hooves. Overall, she was a sorry sight. But she started walking, and I followed. “Do you have somewhere to stay overnight?” Dust said quietly.

“I, uh… when are we doing the hike?” I said. “By the time we’re done getting all the stuff we need, it will be too late to start and get back before dark, unless you’re unusually fast. So I think we’d be best starting tomorrow after I attend church.”

“Didn’t you need to fly back to Zephyr Heights tomorrow?” Dust said.

“Well…” Plans ran through my head. I wanted to get back to ZH tomorrow night. The day after was a holiday, but I wanted the day to get some work done on my plant id book. But I could probably get that work done in half a day if I stayed focus and maybe lost some sleep. Dust really needed my help, and I owed it to her. “I can delay my plans by half a day. We hike tomorrow, take it nice and slow, and the day after I take off at first light. So yes, I need somewhere to sleep for two nights.”

“Would you like to stay at my place?” Dust said.

“Um, if you’re okay with it,” I said. “As long as we’re not sharing the same bed.”

“Well, uh, would you rather share a bed or sleep on the floor?” Dust said. “I don’t have a couch or anything, you know?”

“I’m fine on the floor,” I said. “It’s really no problem. Thank you. I don’t think I have enough with me to pay for two nights in the hotel.”

Dust stopped at a building labeled “Crystal Hoof.” She darted inside the door, and the tension in her body released. “Hello, what can I do for you?” the mare at the desk said as I came inside.

“We need horseshoes fitted,” I said.

“Great, we can definitely do that for you,” the mare said cheerily. “Steel or aluminum?”

“Aluminum, please,” I said. “Something suitable for hiking.”

“Alrighty,” the mare said. She used magic to open a drawer in the desk. She levitated out an aluminum horseshoe. “How does this look? It’ll be twenty bits for the four shoes, plus five for the service of trimming and fitting.”

I looked closer. They seemed like good horseshoes. I wasn’t quite sure if that was a reasonable price in Bridlewood or not. I looked at Dust. “Does that seem alright?” I said.

She started. “Me? Uh… why not?”

“What sizes are you?” the farrier said.

“Eleven,” I said.

“Um, how about a nine?” Dust said.

“Okay then, who wants to start?” the farrier said. Dust nodded towards me, her horn pointing right at my head.

“I guess that’s me,” I said. The farrier led us back to a little workshop with a padded bench in the middle and a low tub. The farrier turned on the water in the tub.

“We’ll start by soaking your hooves to make them softer,” the farrier said. I stepped into the tub. The water was warm. “Just stand in there for fifteen minutes. Feel free to take a nap if you want. I’ll tell you when the time is up. Then you wash your hooves with the soap there, and we’ll get on to trimming.”

The farrier trotted up to the desk again. I hadn’t finished the nuts in my lunch, so I reached into my saddlebag with my muzzle and grabbed a mouthful. I fidgeted my wings and head as I waited. I was never good at waiting. Eventually, the farrier came back. “That’s time,” she said. “Wash your hooves very thoroughly. You don’t want any dirt under your shoes.”

I did so. I dried off, then I lay on the padded bench. The farrier changed the water in the tub for Dust, then she turned to me, levitating the tools she needed for trimming. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she said. She set to work, humming. “You have very nice hooves.”

“Thanks,” I said. I heard the snap of the nippers, then I felt a vague pressure as she ran the rasp to file my back left hoof. Soon enough my hooves were all trimmed and filed.

“You’re doing great so far!” the farrier said. “Here come the horseshoes. You’ll feel a little pressure with the mallet strokes, but not a bit of pain. Let’s see.” She was behind me, but I heard the distinct sound of unicorn levitation. “It’ll be a perfect fit! Ready?”

“Yep,” I said. There was the thud of a hammer and nail, and a dull pressure on my hoof. I looked over at Dust. She was standing in the tub, watching my hoof. She flinched with each hammer stroke, and she looked a little pale. “Hey, I’m fine,” I said, smiling. “You’ll be fine.”

A few minutes later, the horseshoes were all in. “Alrighty, the job is done,” the farrier said. “You’re looking great!” I stood up and walked to the corner of the room, the horseshoes thudding against the wooden floor. “Time’s up,” the farrier said, turning to Dust. “Wash up, and we’ll have you shoed in a jiffy.”

Dust seemed calm as the farrier trimmed her hooves. She probably did this somewhat regularly, like most ponies. Especially since she was rarely outside, she wouldn’t be wearing her hooves down through use. However, she started sweating as the farrier was finishing the trimming. It was hot, but it wasn’t just that.

“Don’t worry, it’s not bad at all,” the farrier said. “Quick, and no pain. As your pegasus friend will confirm, right?”

“Right,” I said.

“Hmm, I think we’ll try an 8½,” the farrier said, holding up a shoe to Dust’s hoof. “Here we go! Ready?” Dust just mumbled something. “What was that?” the farrier said.

“Just do it,” Dust moaned. The farrier started driving the nails. Dust twitched.

“Try to hold still, okay, sweet carrot?” the farrier said. She swung the hammer again, and Dust didn’t move. “Good job.” Dust was clenched up and stiff as the farrier put in the shoes. But soon enough it was over. “All done! I’ll see you at the cashier.” She trotted off.

Dust stood up. “See, there was nothing to worry about,” I said.

“Have you heard of comfort zones?” Dust said. “Do you know how far away mine is right now?”

“You asked me to help you,” I said. “This is part of it.”

Dust gingerly walked back to the front of the building. “It’s… fifty, right?” she said.

“That’s right, miss,” the farrier said. Dust counted out fifty bits.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to pay for myself?” I said.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Dust said. She paid the bits.

“Have a nice hike, y’all!” the farrier said. Dust and I walked out of the building. Like last time, Dust seized up at the door, but she pushed through.

“She seemed unusually cheery for a unicorn,” I said.

“Are you stereotyping?” Dust said. She clicked her tongue.

“Sorry,” I said. We went around town to buy the rest of the stuff we needed. “How do the horseshoes feel?” I said.

“Um… they don’t weigh much, do they?” Dust said. “Do you just become oblivious to them after a while?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Like I said, you can leave them on for a couple of months.”

“Hmm,” Dust said. We went about buying the other supplies we’d need.

As we were buying trail food, I turned to Dust and said, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Dust raised an incredulous eyebrow and pointed at her cutie mark, which was a white question mark. “See, that’s kind of what I wanted to ask about. Why do you always speak in questions? But then one in hundred sentences is just a sentence! Is there a story there?”

“Don’t you remember the last time you asked—oh. You’re a scientist, right? Don’t you see the value in asking questions?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I do for my job,” I said. “But I don’t feel the need to do it constantly in basic, daily communication. It seems a little unwieldy at times.”

“But aren’t I so adept at it?” Dust said. “Do I not make it look effortless?”

“You do it better than I could, I admit,” I said. She never seemed to hesitate before speaking. She was practiced enough that she could do it without stopping to think.

By the time we finished shopping, the sun was low in the sky. Dust looked at me and said, “Do you want to get dinner?”

“Um, sure,” I said. “But… can I pay for myself? I don’t like to be a parasite.”

“Aren’t you a symbiote?” Dust said. “Is helping me with a severe problem not worth a few bits?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “It’s just, I like feeling independent. I’m twenty-four years old, and my family still kind of treats me like a foal. The hiking supplies were an extra expense, but I was going to have to eat dinner either way. Do you know what I mean?”

“So you want to eat dinner with me, but you want to pay for your own dinner?” Dust said.

“Yes,” I said.

Dust shrugged. “Why not?”

We decided on a restaurant called the Applewood Grill. Their food was good. It wasn’t a very chatty dinner experience. Dust didn’t seem to be a very chatty pony, which was fine by me. Afterwards, I mentioned that I should probably visit Izzy Moonbow while I was in town. “Do you remember where I live?” Dust said.

“That must’ve been before the memory wipe,” I said.

“Should we meet somewhere?” Dust said. “How about the library?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. I trotted off towards the edge of town where Izzy lived. She was home, and we had a short, sweet visit. It was a little jarring, interacting with such a talkative, eager pony after spending several hours with Dust. It was dark by the time I was leaving. I heard crows overhead. Moonlight trickled through the canopy. Wood creaked in the breeze. Bridlewood Forest gave off spooky vibes at night. I liked it.

I arrived at the library, which was carved into a giant oak tree. The door was locked. I didn’t see Dust around, but she worked here. Maybe she was inside. I knocked. A few seconds later, I heard shoed hooves approaching over a wood floor. Dust opened the door. “How did it go?” she said.

“It was great,” I said. “Thank you for letting me sleep at your place.”  

“You’re definitely fine sleeping on a wooden floor?” she said.

“If you have like a spare blanket or something, that would certainly help,” I said. “But I’ll take what I can get. I’m strapped for cash.”

She gestured for me to come into the library. “Wait, do you live here?” I said.

“How do I think I stay indoors all the time?” she said. I walked into the library, and Dust locked the door behind me. She led me upstairs, but she suddenly stopped. “Wait, a stallion and a mare sleeping together… is that, like, problems? How do these things work for normal ponies?”

“I’m not the expert on normal,” I said. “But I am asexual, so you won’t get any problems from me.”

“Really?” Dust said. “Well then, what could go wrong?” She continued up the stairs. Our horseshoes made quite a lot of noise on the wooden stairs. Dust led us to the top floor, then followed a narrow, steep set of stairs farther up to a trapdoor. She opened it, and I followed her into a small room. She lit an oil lamp, revealing a bedroom with hundreds of books on the floor.

“Oh, there’s not much floor, is there?” Dust mumbled. She started levitating books and piling them up to make space. Then she pulled a blanket out from underneath the bed and spread it on the floor. There were two pillows on the bed, and she put one on the floor. “Is that sufficient? I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“This is perfect,” I said. “I couldn’t have asked for more. A place to sleep for free, with a pony I like.” I blushed in embarrassment. That came out wrong. “Well, a pony who’s a good friend, you know?”

“Um, yes, maybe?” Dust said. Huh, that was a curious answer, I thought. But I didn’t want to overthink one thing she said and turn this into a rom-com, so I let it go. She lay down on the bed and sighed. “Are you exhausted?”

“Yes,” I said, stretching my sore wings. “I’ll sleep soundly. But first, do you have a shower I can use? I sweat a lot during that flight.”

“Have you looked behind you?” Dust said. I turned around and saw a knob in the wall right behind me.

“Oh, thank you,” I said. I opened the door and went into the bathroom behind it. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth. I had brought my toothbrush in my saddlebag. Dust was reading in bed when I came out of the bathroom. “Hey, I’ll be done with church by 11 tomorrow,” I said. “Then I’ll come back here and we can get started.”

Dust just mumbled something and turned a page. I wrote a few notes in my notebook, recording the thoughts I had had about the wording of my plant id book. I turned on my phone, which I had left off. I read a few verses of scripture on it, then turned it off again. I said a quick prayer and lay down. A few minutes later, Dust turned off the lamp. The floor was hard, but I was tired enough that I was soon asleep.
> Chapter Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time I was trotting back from church, it was already hot and muggy in the forest. Ideally, we would have left early this morning to avoid the day’s heat and to have extra time for the hike if we needed it. But missing my own church’s congregation was as close to “less active” as I was willing to go. Skipping church entirely was not an option for me.

I arrived at the library and knocked. I heard approaching steps, and the door opened. Dust stood there with a saddlebag and a sunhat. “You’re looking good,” I said. “Let me get my stuff, and we can head out.” I hurried up the stairs and got to Dust’s room. I shoved some food, which I had set aside this morning, into my saddlebag. I filled up my hydration pack and put it into the saddlebag. Iodine tablets, insect repellant. I opened the door and shouted down, “Do you have the map?”

“Why would I not have the map?” Dust called back. Well, that was everything then. I glided back down, spiraling through the middle part of the library where it was all open. I landed with a loud thud as my aluminum horseshoes hit the oak floor. Just moving my wings a little to glide, I was reminded how sore the muscles still were.

Dust froze again at the door of the library. “Are you ready to spend the next eight hours stuck outdoors?” I said.

“Eight hours?” Dust said. “Do you think our excursion will be so prolonged?”

“It depends on how quickly we move,” I said. “I can only guess how fast you’ll be.”

Dust pushed through the doorway. “It’s this way, right?” she said, turning to the left.

“Yes,” I said. “You lead to set the pace. I don’t want to push you.”

Dust started off at a moderate walk. I’d alternate some trotting and walking on a hike like this, but I figured it would be all walking for today. Dust didn’t seem to have as much tension in her body as she did when she went outside yesterday. Good. She would end up sick if she were racked with that much anxiety through the whole hike. The humid heat of the forest was a little stifling, but at least we had shade. Birds sang, and unicorns sauntered through the town. Dust kept her head down.

We were out of the town soon, on a little path that cut through the forest. Green, vibrant undergrowth crowded near the path, but clearly hooves had beaten the path itself down. We were walking on wet but not muddy soil with a few rocks in the path. It wasn’t the toughest footing, but Dust moved more slowly than on the smooth roads of the town. “How are you doing so far?” I said.

“Should I be apprehensive of breaking a leg on these rocks?” Dust said.

“Just keep your eyes on your hooves,” I said. “Nothing bad will happen.”

We continued along the trail, not talking much for the first mile or so. When we got to a big fallen log, Dust said, “Can we take a respite?”

“Of course,” I said. Dust inspected the log and jumped back, startled.

“Ants?” I said. Dust just mumbled something. “I generally don’t find it worthwhile to lie down for breaks. It takes more effort to stand up than to just remain standing.”

“What would we do without the stay apparatus, right?” Dust said.

I took a large swig of water. “Don’t forget to drink,” I said.

Dust sipped from her hydration pack. “Who would have anticipated horseshoes making such a difference?” she said, looking down at her hooves.

“Oh?” I said. “A good difference?” Did I… talk in more questions when I was around Dust?

“What else?” Dust said. “My hooves still aren’t sore, in how far have we gone?”

“I’d guess about a mile,” I said.

“Oh, is that all?” She sounded disappointed.

“It’s hard to tell for sure,” I said. “When we get to the waterfall, we’ll know how far we’ve gone. But we’re in no rush. If we run out of time, we can just turn around before we get to the overlook.” I really did hope we made it to the overlook, though. This trail led to a cliff from which ponies could see an ancient cloud city, Las Pegasus. The city drifted around, so it might not be visible. But there was a chance, and that would be quite the sight.

“Whether we get to the overlook or not, it’s really nice here, don’t you think?” I said. Dozens of pretty, white, heartleaf daisy flowers were in bloom on either side of the trail. Soothing light trickled through a canopy of magenta and violet leaves. Translucent, softly glowing crystals spiked up from the ground here and there. Now that we were stopped in the shade, having just drank water, it didn’t feel so hot. Leaves rustled in a light breeze. There was nopony else in sight or sound.

Dust looked around. “Am I supposed to feel relaxed right now?”

“If you want,” I said. “I just want you to appreciate that we find ourselves in a tranquil, charming patch of forest.”

“It is pleasant, isn’t it?” Dust said. She stepped forward and continued walking. Soon the trail met up with a stream and continued along its banks. The stream was wide and slow, its banks tangled with tree roots and its water murky. The plants that grew by the stream—reeds, horsetails, and ferns—were the greenest of green. The water made soft babbling as it passed over rocks slick with dark algae. The air was a little cooler by the stream.

The ground started inclining down, and the stream became faster and narrower. Dust advanced more slowly and carefully. There was a rushing sound in the distance. “The waterfall,” I said. “We’re making surprisingly good time.”

“What’s surprising?” Dust said. “We’re not even making two miles an hour, are we? Isn’t that sluggish?”

“Not for hiking, especially for a pony with no experience,” I said. “Traveling across winding, sloped, rocky paths is slower than you’d think.” Soon there was a sharp drop ahead of us. The path veered to the left to get down an easier way. I walked off the path a bit to get right next to the top of the waterfall. I couldn’t see much of it from the top, but there was a nice view of the forest below and the sky above. There were some white clouds ahead of us.

“Isn’t that hazardously close to the precipice?” Dust shouted over the roaring waterfall.

“I have wings, remember?” I said, flapping them. I turned around and returned to the trail. “Let’s get to the bottom.” The trail was steep and rocky. “I’ll go first, to make sure it’s safe. Just follow where I step.” I slowly picked my way down the trail, checking to make sure I didn’t leave Dust behind. We made it to the bottom without mishap. The trail turned to join with the stream again at the bottom of the waterfall.

From here we could see the whole length of the waterfall, which was maybe ten ponies high. Cool mist sprang up from where the water splashed into a deep pool at the bottom. The mist watered lush mosses—and other bryophytes—that grew on the nearby rocks and dirt of the cliff wall. “Come on, Dust,” I shouted over the sound of the water. “You can’t get anything like this indoors. The outdoors are nice, don’t you think?”

“Um… would it offend you if I spoke with candor?” Dust said.

“No…”

“How can I enjoy this when my thoughts are still trapped on the harrowing journey down the cliff? Like, if I had faltered, wouldn’t I have just… died?” I looked over at Dust. I hadn’t realized she was so nervous on the way down. Perhaps I was just busy watching my own footing, but I did tend to be bad at picking up on other ponies’ emotions. Indeed, Dust was shaking, and her pupils were contracted. I was reminded that this was a tough journey for Dust’s mind as well as her body.

“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. I wasn’t usually one to touch other ponies, but she needed some comfort. I unfolded my wing and wrapped it over her. I had to reach up a little; she was tall. “Nothing happened. You’re okay.”

I could feel the shaking in Dust’s body. “Thanks, Peace,” she said quietly, her mouth near my ear.

“Do you want to keep going?” I said.

“Uh… can I have a break for a moment?” Dust said.

“Of course,” I said. Dust just stood there, breathing deeply and staring at the waterfall. She used magic to pull my wing a little tighter across herself. The shaking in her body died down, replaced by the up and down of steady breathing.

“Shall we proceed?” Dust said evenly.

“Only if you want to,” I said. Dust stepped forward, and I folded my wing against my body again. The trail was flatter and less rocky here. Dust started off at a slow pace, but she started walking more quickly after a few minutes. The stream veered away to the right, and the path continued straight. We made good time for the next hour or so.

Dust suddenly froze, and I nearly ran into her. “What is it?” I said.

“Shh…” I held still and listened. There was some kind of… ethereal sound? Like wind whistling through a cave, or wolves harmonizing in the distance.

“What is that?” Dust whispered.

It occasionally changed pitches. It was somehow… familiar? Entrancing, even. “I think… it’s singing,” I whispered. I looked off in the direction the sound was coming from. A series of Symphoricarpos shrubs obscured my view. I quietly, slowly pushed my way through them, leaving the path. Dust followed me. I stared into the forest again after passing through the shrubs. Tree trunks still blocked my vision, but I could see much farther now. But I didn’t know what I was looking for. The more I listened to it, the more I thought the sound was some kind of song. The singer used a lot of humming and airy phrases, but I thought there were words in there. So there was a pony somewhere in this forest?

There. I overlooked it half a dozen times because it was dark brown, the same color as many of the tree trunks. But there was undeniably the shape of a pony in there, bent down like they were eating or inspecting something on the ground. But wait, where was the tail? That wasn’t a pony at all. It was a deer, a female going by the lack of antlers. I tapped Dust with my hoof and pointed towards the deer. “It’s a doe,” I whispered.

“Where?” Dust whispered, staring.

“Next to a crystal, way out there next to that big chestnut tree,” I whispered. Dust kept staring, but I didn’t see recognition in her face. Could it be true that pegasi had sharper vision than other ponies? I always thought that was propaganda.

I turned my eyes back to the deer. As she sang to the crystal, it glowed faintly, then more brightly. She finished her song just as Dust stepped forward to try to get a closer look. The deer’s head snapped towards us, then she bounded away. Dust gasped. “Was that her?” she said. “Did she just flee?”

“Yes,” I said. I stood there in awe. “I thought deer were just a legend. That song, there were definitely words to it, though I didn’t understand the language. I have so many questions!” There were legends about many magical creatures in Equestria—dragons, changelings, and such—but in all my biology classes I learned that ponies were the only intelligent animals in the world. All those other creatures were supposed to be just stories.

“Do you desire to follow her?” Dust said.

“No,” I said reluctantly. “I don’t know if deer are dangerous. I promised nothing bad would happen on this hike, and I’m going to keep that promise.” I hesitated, then turned around and pushed through those shrubs back onto the path.

“What do you think she was doing?” Dust said. We continued along the path.

“I don’t know,” I said. “What do those crystals do?”

“Um… how to answer when there are so many theories?” Dust said.

“Nopony knows?” I said. I was surprised to here that, considering how advanced unicorn botany was.

“Would you take my best hypothesis?” Dust said. “Research shows the crystals have magical properties, so could their magic augment the welfare of the forest?”

“The botany books I read suggested that many of these plants can supplement their photosynthesis with ‘magosynthesis.’ So I could believe it.”

“Could that explain why the collectors sent such abundant samples to the herbarium this year?” Dust said.

“Has this been an unusually lush year?” I said.

“What do I know? I’m always indoors, remember?” Dust paused. “How did we end up talking about plants after just seeing a deer?”

I blushed. “I, uh… really like plants.” We continued down the path quietly. I kept listening for another deer, but I just heard birdsong. It was early afternoon now, and I was hungry. But we were close to the overlook. We could eat there.

As we continued, I saw the trees thin out ahead, and clouds beyond. This was the overlook. Dust trotted forward. She stopped at the edge and whistled. I stood by her side, my eyes wide. An expansive amalgamation of clouds floated in front of us, not too far from the cliff we stood atop. It filled most of the sky. Mounted on the clouds were… things. Jagged metal structures, dilapidated stone buildings. This was Las Pegasus, not only easily visible, but much closer than I had imagined. “It appears that we got lucky, wouldn’t you agree?” Dust said.
> Chapter Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I didn’t expect to see it so close up,” I said.

“How about that?” Dust said.

I lay down and reached into my saddlebag. “This seems like a good place to eat lunch,” I said. As I was munching on oats, I looked up at the cloud city. Although my wings were still sore, I wanted to fly up and get a better look at it. “How are you feeling?” I said.

“Should I say exhausted or wonderstruck?” Dust said. “Are you going to fly up to see the city better?”

“It had crossed my mind,” I said.

“Is there any possibility you can carry me up there with you?” Dust said.

“Um…” I knew that pegasi could carry other ponies, although I had never done it myself. My wings were tired, too. But Dust was looking at me with those big, round, green eyes all full of hope. Her cutie mark was a question mark. She loved to ask questions and learn things. This floating city was eating into my curiosity, so I could only imagine how she felt about it. “I can certainly try. But I’m honestly not sure if I’m strong enough.”

“You’re the best, Peace,” Dust said.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling warm in the face. We ate quietly, staring up at the mysterious city. I had no idea how pegasus magic and clouds interacted to make a structure that could support actual buildings made out of stone. It was clearly dilapidated. In addition to worn-down buildings, I noticed patches where the clouds appeared to have dispersed, leaving exposed foundations.

I finished my lunch and stood up. “I’ll fly up there and look for a close spot to land, first,” I said. I stretched my aching wings and flapped. I climbed to see the city from above. Some of the buildings seemed unusually flashy, with long-dead lights outlining them. One even had pronounced onion domes like an ancient—or then modern—castle. There was clearly a half-broken roller coaster structure. I was surprised to see that in addition to the buildings, there were solid walkways between them, resting on the clouds. I landed on the nearest one. It was made of painted wood, but there wasn’t a lot of life up here to rot the wood. I jumped and stomped as hard as I could to see if it would hold. It seemed fine. There were a few broken planks, but there was definitely enough to walk on.

I glided back down to Dust. “There are wooden walkways between the buildings,” I said. “You should be able to walk around up there, if I can lift you.”

“You know you don’t have to, right?” Dust said.

“My curiosity is burning,” I said. “It’s worth a try.” I wasn’t good at hovering, so I moved to stand behind Dust. I backed up a fair distance and spread out my wings. “I’m just going to swoop past and pick you up. Like a hawk snatching a mouse.”

“Did you have to make such a morbid metaphor?” Dust said. “You’re not going to drop me, are you?”

“No way,” I said. “I’ll hold you tight. If I’m unable to lift us, we’re both going down.”

“Um, would it be better if I backed away from the precipice a smidge?” Dust said.

“Good idea,” I said. “Hey, uh, keep your horn down, okay?” That thing was sharp. Dust tilted her head down. I galloped forward and took off. I tried to think about pegasus flight magic as I approached Dust. I grabbed her tight, hugging with all four legs while my wings flapped. And…

We tumbled heads over hooves. At some point I smashed my face into the ground, and I ended up on my back with Dust on top of me. Dust rolled off of me. “Sorry,” she said.

I blinked, and tears came out of my eyes. My face hurt. “It was my fault,” I said.

“You did your best, didn’t you?” Dust said. I stood up. My glasses were askew. “Oh, what happened there?” Dust said. I jerked back as light filled my vision. Dust had levitated my glasses. “Sorry, did I startle you?” She inspected them closer and bent them back into shape. Then she put them back on my face.

“Thanks,” I said. She had fixed that much easier than I would have done. “I think I forgot to put my pegasus magic into you to make you lighter. I want to try again.”

“You what?” Dust said. “After that delightful experience we just had? Did you strike your cranium?”

“No,” I said. “It was my muzzle, not my cranium. I want to get up to Las Pegasus. Don’t try to stop me once I’ve decided I want something.”

Dust shrugged and walked back to where she had started, head tilted down. I trotted back to my starting place. Last time I had been thinking about flight magic, but I needed to focus very specifically on shifting my magic from myself to Dust. At least, that’s how other pegasi described it when they lifted heavy objects while flying. With determination and a parcel of dread, I galloped and took off again. I tried to focus my magic in my hooves. If all my magic was in my hooves, it would flow down the concentration gradient into Dust’s body, right?

I touched Dust with my outstretched front hooves and tried to shunt my magic into her to make her lighter. As I got closer, I wrapped all four legs around her tightly. I flapped with all my might, already feeling exhausted.

No crash. We were rising slowly and moving forward. We left the cliff behind, and Dust yelped. “Don’t drop me, okay?” I was too focused on flying to respond. We were moving slowly, so my muscles were doing all the work instead of the airfoils. I was flapping like a crazed chicken, just trying to stay in the air. I had seen other pegasi carry visiting earth ponies and unicorns in Zephyr Heights, and they made it look way easier than this. But we were climbing towards the surface of Las Pegasus.

After a slow, grueling ascent, we were level with the tops of the clouds. I dumped Dust on the walkway and let myself plop onto the cloud next to it. My whole body was covered in sweat. “Wait, the cloud can support you?” Dust said.

“Don’t try it yourself,” I said, panting. “It’s a pegasus thing.”

Dust stood over me. “Are you as exhausted as you appear?” she said. “Why go through all that exertion? Did you not think that I would wait at the surface while you explored the city?”

“Why not… take you with me?” I said between breaths. “Now I know that… I can carry a pony… And now we can explore… the city together.” I stood up. “I’m good. Let’s look around.” My face still hurt, and my wings were burning. But my breathing was slowing.

“Okay, here’s my first question: Why build walkways if pegasi can tread on clouds?” Dust asked.

“Hey, you’re right,” I said. I stepped onto the walkway myself. “The first reason that comes to mind is for other ponies to be able to walk. But with a name like ‘Las Pegasus,’ I’d think it would be a pegasi-only city.”

“Do these buildings seem… ostentatious to you?” Dust said.

“Do they seem what?”

“Showy?”

“Yeah, I had noticed that,” I said.

“Could it be a tourist city?” Dust said. “Was it a city where other ponies could live in the clouds like the pegasi did?”

“Maybe,” I said. “A good hypothesis.” We started walking towards one of the nearby buildings with the dome roofs. “Watch out for those broken boards,” I said. “If you step on a cloud, you’ll fall right through.”

“Did I appear to need more anxiety?” Dust said, keeping her eyes on her hooves.

“Sorry,” I said, wincing. We arrived at the building and looked inside. Windows were the only lighting, although at this time of day it was enough. The entry hall was huge, with dusty paintings on the walls. A dysfunctional fountain occupied the center of the room. Statues of pegasi in armor made a ring around the center of the fountain. It looked like the water would have flowed over their spread wings, dropping into the pool from the wingtips.

“Wow, who would have expected we would find all this?” Dust said excitedly, trotting in place. She cantered over to one of the paintings, whinnying with joy. With a flash from her horn, she removed the dust from the glass. She used light from her horn to inspect the painting closely.

I was looking at the story told by all the paintings together. Some of the paintings depicted earth ponies or unicorns. They were portraits in suits or dresses. I noticed an apparent shift in style as the paintings progressed around the wall. Nopony wore a corset after a certain point, for example. “To think, all this time there was archaeological evidence for pony unity,” I said. “The queen must have censored any findings that didn’t match her narrative.”

“Is Zephyr Heights surreptitiously a dystopia?” Dust said distractedly.

“Did you unicorns know about our unified past before the magic was restored?” I said.

Dust turned to look at me. “I theorized that ponies were once unified, but why didn’t other ponies believe me? Could there have been a sort of bottom-up censorship? There were books in the library that talked about historical evidence for pony unity, but did anypony besides me read them? Why weren’t these things talked about in school? Could it be… that unicorns didn’t want to believe in pony unity?”

“And what are your thoughts on pony unity now?” I said. “For or against?”

“Why not be united?” Dust said. “You didn’t cannibalize any of your younger siblings, did you?”

“Not one,” I said. I had heard that one before, but I still couldn’t fathom that unicorns believed that about pegasi.

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” Dust said with an air of finality before moving on to inspect another painting.

“Hey, uh, there’s a lot to see here, and we should hurry,” I said. “We need to head back before long.”

“Can we spend the night here?” Dust said.

“I have to be back in Bridlewood Forest by tonight,” I said. “I need to fly back to Zephyr Heights early tomorrow so I can get some work done.”

“Oh, how could I forget?” Dust said, deflating a little.

I tried to think through options. “Unless…” Could I take off straight from Las Pegasus? No, I couldn’t leave Dust to face the hike back alone. Maybe I could hike back with her tomorrow morning, then pay for a hot air balloon back. During the ride, I could get some work done on my phone. It still had plenty of charge, since I kept it off while in Bridlewood. But I would be less efficient on my phone than on my computer at home. But maybe this was simply more important. We just stumbled on an ancient city that probably hadn’t been visited in generations! Dust couldn’t explore it without me, and I couldn’t just leave her behind. “You know what, let’s stay here overnight,” I said. “We can hike out early tomorrow.”

“Wait, did you just exenterate all your plans because I got starry-eyed and enthusiastic?” Dust said. “Don’t you know that we can go if you need to?”

“I know,” I said. “But my whole job is to ask questions and explore. I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to do so just to stick to some confounded schedule. Let’s explore the city as thoroughly as you want. Wait, are you okay sleeping out here overnight?”

“Wait, what?” Dust mumbled, and her eyes went wide. “How did that not cross my mind?”

“I think we have enough food,” I said. “And if we’re hungry on the way back, I saw some edible flowers, grass, and berries on the trail.”

“Eat… things that are growing outside?”

I looked at her and flatly said, “All food grows outside.” She blushed, apparently realizing how silly that was. “With the waterfall and iodine tablets, we have sufficient water. It won’t be cold at this time of year, and if there’s rain the buildings will keep us dry. But we’ll be sleeping on the hard ground. Well, I’ll probably sleep on a cloud.”

Dust tapped a hoof on the tile floor as she thought. It echoed throughout the open chamber. “Can I endure a night out here to get a look at the city?” she said.

“Maybe we should just call it off,” I said.

“No, I, uh…” She trailed off. “Can you sleep on the hard ground with me?” she said quietly. “I’ll endure the night, but only if you’re close by.” Her use of a declarative sentence seemed to make the statement more emphatic.

“I can bear a night on hard ground,” I said.

“Is that settled, then?” Dust said. “Shall we explore?”

“Let’s,” I said.
> Chapter Five
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dust and I had a jolly time exploring the ruins. The normally impassive unicorn was infectiously enthusiastic about any sort of learning. She led us from building to building, guessing the purposes of each. It became increasingly clear to me that she was right; this was some kind of tourist destination. There were many amusement rides and what had to be gambling machines. Dust became particularly enthusiastic when we found an old phonograph with a cylinder in it. She cranked the handle, but the cylinder did not spin. “Ah, that’s a shame,” I said.

Dust tilted her horn towards the handle, and a bright point of light appeared at the tip. The phonograph lit up, but this somehow looked different from standard unicorn levitation. Before my eyes, the phonograph was dusted and polished, leaving it a shiny brass color. The needle reset; I hadn’t noticed it was bent. Something inside clicked. “What did you do?” I said.

“Are you aware that every unicorn has a spell or two related to their special talent?” Dust said. “What could suit me better than a restoration spell?”

“A restoration spell?” I said. “You should have been an archaeologist!”

“And work outdoors all day?” Dust said, shuddering. “You don’t think a restoration spell is useful at the library? Do you know how many ponies bring books back blemished with food?” With her horn, she reset the cylinder and cranked the handle. After a few seconds, a song started. It was a fast, jazzy, big band tune.

“Oh, hey, that’s groovy,” I said, tapping my hoof. By the second chorus when the trumpets kicked in, I was bobbing my head and swaying my whole body. I tried to imagine the scene in the room. We were on the stage of an amphitheater. Dead lights lined the bottom of the stage. The phonograph told me this place was not used primarily for live music performances. Something else, then. Anything else, really. I decided I liked the image of some great and powerful stage magician performing up here, mystifying even the unicorns with tricks of deception and sleight of hoof.

The song ended, and I stopped… well, dancing. I was full-on dancing by the end. Dust was watching me with a grin. “I play trumpet in a jazz band,” I said sheepishly. “That was my kind of jam.”

“Did I say I was judging you?” Dust said. We moved on to the next room. We passed many intricate statues, elaborate fountains, detailed paintings, and ornate chandeliers. A lot of wealth had gone into this place.

One statue, however, caught our attention in particular. At nearly the center of the city was an entire plaza laid over the clouds. Plastic palm trees provided some shade, and several statues and fountains dotted the plaza. Dust stopped at the centerpiece. It depicted six ponies—two earth ponies, two pegasi, a unicorn, and an alicorn with a crown. “Do you know these ponies?” Dust said.

“No,” I said.

“Have you ever heard of the Guardians of Friendship?”

“I may have heard it somewhere, but I’m not sure,” I said.

“I’ve always speculated: Were they legends, or real historical figures?” Dust said. “Is this my answer?” She stared at the statue, entranced. I turned to look closer, as well. The sculptor had done them in a style that seemed cute, rather than epic and imposing like the previous pegasus guards. But their personalities came through even in stone. A joker, a homely mare with a country hat, an adventurous pegasus, a pony with kindly eyes, a unicorn who radiated confidence and beauty, and the optimistic, friendly alicorn in the center.

I turned back to Dust, and I noticed tears in her eyes. She sniffed and said, “Are you wondering why I’m crying? I don’t know, it’s just, how could we have lost so much? How could ponies have once constructed a city like this?”

“I didn’t even know that pegasi could stand on clouds until the magic was restored,” I said. “Turns out they could build whole cities of clouds and put solid stone and wood structures on top of it. I have no idea how, though.”

“Were we really once so united?” Dust said. “Were they truly such good friends, standing side by side like in this statue? How did ponies ever have the wealth and prosperity to build something like this? You’ve seen Bridlewood Forest, right? How can we not even run a proper electric grid, when they could put lights lining every poster?”

“It’s mindboggling,” I said.

“Could ‘heartrending’ be a better word?” Dust said. “How did we fall so far? How could we lose so much? What… happened?” Her tears quietly pattered on the wooden walkway.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems weird that a civilization this advanced could just… disappear. And we didn’t even know it ever existed. Hate can do marvelous things.”

“General hate, or an action more deliberate and calculated?” Dust said. “Will we ever know?” She wiped her face with her mane. “Well, shall we move on?” We continued exploring as the hours towards sunset ticked by. The time ate away at my brain a little bit. By my original plan, I would be flying back already.

Soon we stopped to eat dinner. “I recommend that we eat everything we have,” I said. “There’s a nice meadow near the overlook where we can eat a natural breakfast.”

“Is there actually sufficient food out there for breakfast?” Dust said. “Will it be nutritious?”

“Probably more nutritious than a lot of the food we eat in the city,” I said. “It will take some time to find and eat a whole meal, but it’ll be worth it. Hiking takes a lot of calories, so we need this stuff now.” We ate through all our trail food, making our packs lighter. Then we got back to exploring.

Eventually we came to a large, steel rollercoaster. The steel was rusted, and a part of the structure had collapsed, leaving a shattered pile where a hill should have been. “You game for a ride?” Dust said, smiling. Her horn started glowing the way it had when she restored the phonograph.

“You can do that?” I said, incredulous.

Dust snickered and said, “Did you believe me?” She restored the entry sign next to the roller coaster to pristine condition.

“Only a little bit,” I said. “I don’t know how unicorn magic works.” We continued exploring, and soon we were discussing where we would sleep. Obviously Dust wanted to be indoors. We did tour a few buildings that were obviously hotels, but the mattresses were not in a usable state. We settled on a large room with empty shelves. Dust theorized that it was a library, although I wasn’t sure how different an empty library was from an empty grocery store. Either way, it was odd that it was empty.

“What do you think transpired here?” Dust said.

“It’s hard to say. It’s not a total mess in here. Could the pegasi have known that magic was disappearing? Otherwise they’d have all fallen from the sky and died, and there’s no stories of anything like that. So maybe they took whatever was here since they knew they’d have to abandon their cloud city. But… there’s plenty of other stuff around. They didn’t take everything. Maybe they only took what was most valuable.”

“Such as books?” Dust said. She lay down in an aisle between shelves and said, “Are you exhausted?”

“Tired, at least,” I said. I felt she was probably more worn out than me, except for my wings. I set my glasses on a shelf and trotted behind the shelf to say a quick prayer. Then I returned and lay down on the other side of the aisle, about a pony’s length away from Dust.

“Can you come closer, please?” Dust said. “I might get anxious in the night, you know?”

“Okay,” I said. I was usually very bashful when it came to getting close to or touching other ponies, but for some reason I didn’t feel diffident as I scooted right next to Dust. Somehow she felt different, like I was interacting with a talking book instead of a pony.

She turned to sleep on her side, facing away from me. “Thank you,” she said. I turned onto my side, facing away from Dust. The stone tile floor was hard, but we were just going to have to deal with that. The air was cool, there was a faint smell of dust—the other kind of dust—and the place was completely silent. I could easily hear Dust breathing. After a few moments, she quietly said, “Do you want to know why I always speak in questions?”

My ear perked up. “There’s more to it than what you said before?” I responded.

“Well, did I say that?” Dust said. “Would you believe it’s literally just because I want to? My cutie mark is about learning, and how better to learn than to always be inquiring? And, well… have you ever felt like it’s difficult to converse with other ponies? Why is it so… unnerving? Anyway, can you comprehend the concept of communicating in questions as a kind of… shield? Like, am I really conversing with ponies if I’m only using the interrogative? It’s better somehow, you know?” She paused. “Do you feel like it’s different somehow when we talk? Do you find it easier to talk to me, or is that not mutual?”

“It’s mutual,” I said, reminded that I was lying down right next to another pony. “That does make me wonder why you always talk in questions to me, though.”

“Um, force of habit?” Dust said. She was quiet for a moment. “Did you think I was cursed or something?”

“What?” I said. “Of course not.”

“Had you not heard the rumors?” Dust said. “Who started the allegation that I was jinxed? Was it fifteen years ago, or sixteen now?”

“You were just a filly, then,” I said. “That’s a horrible rumor!”

“Do you think I’m odd?” Dust said softly.

“Yes,” I said frankly. “But a good odd. You can talk any way you want around me. I like it. I mean, have you ever felt like you’ve met the same pony a thousand different times?”

“You feel that way, as well?” Dust said.

“I don’t mean to rag on more… normal ponies,” I said. “But I like variety in my life. I’ve never met a pony like you before.”

“Aww…” Dust mumbled. “Thanks, Peace. Well, good night.”

“Good night,” I said.

I dozed off, but I slept lightly on the stone. Partway through the night, I heard Dust shift around. She was breathing quickly. I looked over towards her. She was still lying down, but she seemed unsettled. I slowly turned to my other side so I was facing her. I reached a wing over to cover her up. My feathers gently made contact with her back and side. She inhaled sharply, then her breathing settled. Before I knew it, I was asleep again.


*  *  *


I woke up with my wing still over Dust. She seemed to be asleep, but a trickle of light was coming through the windows. The air was chilly and damp. I stood up and trotted around, stretching my legs. Dust stirred. “What time is it?” she mumbled.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking out the window. “5 or so, maybe?”

Dust groaned. “I’m not going to get any more REM sleep, am I?” She stood up and brushed herself off. We walked back to the edge of the city, where we had first landed. Looking at it now, I thought this little walkway that led to nowhere must have been an overlook for earth ponies and unicorns.

Flying Dust down wasn’t nearly as hard as flying her up. I still had to flap instead of just gliding, but I set her down on the ground without mishap. “Were you practicing while I wasn’t observing?” Dust said.

“Down is easier than up,” I said. “And I got practice when I carried you up.” The sun still hadn’t quite risen yet, but there was enough light to get started on the trail. I was already feeling hungry, but it wasn’t long before we arrived at the meadow. “Let’s get some breakfast,” I said.

“What’s comestible and what’s not?” Dust asked. I launched into listing the scientific names and edibility of every plant I saw. I had tried most of these during my research in Bridlewood Forest, so I could even describe their flavors. I was surprised to find a patch of Achnatherum robustum, which I strongly warned against eating due to the sedative defense compounds of the endophytic fungi.

“How do I distinguish it from the other grasses?” Dust said. I tried to explain the pubescence around the upper cauline collars, but we decided the safer way was for me to simply lay out my scarf where the A. robustum started growing.

This was a diverse meadow. Crystals jutted out here and there. There were over a dozen species of edible plants between the grasses, daisies, dandelions, and mints. They were all absolutely fresh, packed with diverse flavors. I wandered out a little bit as I was eating, and I even found some wild raspberries growing next to a stream. “I found raspberries!” I called out. Dust slowly came over, stopping to munch on mints as she approached.

I eagerly bit off the raspberries. They were little explosions of tart flavor in my mouth. “Ah, this is the most refreshing breakfast I’ve ever had!” I said. “I should fly out to the wilderness for breakfast every morning.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ruin your moment with a pessimistic comment about how I’d rather eat a pastry for breakfast?” Dust said.

“Wh… what?” I said. “Eat this raspberry, Dust. This raspberry may be smaller and less juicy than a store-bought raspberry, but it has ten times the flavor as one of those big, juicy, store-bought raspberries. This raspberry is perfect. It is fulfilling the measure of its creation.”

“What?” Dust said, blinking.

“Oh, it’s a phrase from the scriptures,” I said. “But seriously, these raspberries, Dust! And everything else. This is a wonderful breakfast.”

Dust just shrugged and ate some raspberries, clearly not enjoying them as much as me. The sun rose as we ate, although the trees around the meadow blocked our view. Soon we had eaten our fill. We filled our water at the stream and continued along the trail

We got to the bottom of the waterfall without mishap. “I know you weren’t a fan of this part of the trail,” I said. “Do you want me to fly you up to the top?”

“And put you through all that arduous work?” Dust said. “You don’t think I can manage?” Her body language was a mix of fear and determination. I took the lead, and we climbed up the trail. I looked back at Dust occasionally, but she didn’t seem as panicked as last time. Good for her.

We made it to the top. “You did great,” I said. “Are you ready to keep going?”

“Can we take a break first?” Dust said, puffing. I nodded, and we rested on our hooves for a moment. We continued up the trail, and we were approaching the unicorn town before noon.

“Um, Peace?” Dust said quietly as we walked.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to see me again sometime?” she said. “There aren’t a lot of other ponies who enjoy being around me, you know? Could you visit again? Or, would you write down your address in Zephyr Heights so I can visit you?”

“That sounds great,” I said. “I’ll try to visit, but feel free to visit me if you have the time.” I stopped and took my notebook and pen out of my pack. I tore out a paper, wrote my address, and passed it to Dust.

“Thank you,” Dust said, levitating it into her pack. We arrived at the city and walked to the library.

“Well, this is goodbye for now,” I said. “But we’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”