In a tumbledown cabin in the woods just off Snowdrift’s edge, the Elements made do with what they could forage and what Vinyl could bring back from town—she going alone, to spare them recognition. They had arrived but one day before Applejack, Colgate, and Octavia emerged from the gateway, flipping out of the black disc to skid through ice and slush, battered and disheveled, and very much alive. In the darkness, which had lifted for a few minutes the day before, they stumbled halfway to town before Rainbow spotted them. She guided them back to the cabin, scared to leave them so she might rush ahead and bring Fluttershy out. Snow was falling, and the three mares refused Rainbow’s offer of a bubble of warm air, furtively looking back to the gateway as they walked.

Colgate’s forelegs received Fluttershy’s magical ministrations first. The two sat, hunched and quiet, in the living room while the others restlessly occupied the kitchen, making tea and coffee, exchanging stories, all alert despite only half a night’s sleep. Vinyl revealed a bottle of local wine she had purchased in secret, an optimistic gesture to be opened upon their reunion.

With a box of tissues at her side and a steaming mug of tea, Applejack sneezed and coughed her way through their Tartarus journey, giving special emphasis to the light creature that chased them through the canyon. She took note of the envy on Twilight’s face, as though the experience’s novelty somehow outweighed its horror.

Octavia slept on the floor in the anteroom, and Colgate paced excitedly when Fluttershy was finished with her. Her side would need extra attention, and Rarity volunteered to help pick the bits of glass out, an offer that Colgate accepted without a second thought.

“Us, I’m afraid our experience was much less interesting than yours,” Twilight said at last, sipping at a glass of wine. “We rode a supply train most of the way here, under the mountains.”

“A stinky train!” Pinkie said.

“We were in a chemical car.” She sighed and stifled a laugh. “I am just so happy to see you three again. I know it’s been said.”

“Twi, you can’t be happier than we are to get outta there,” Applejack said, and sneezed. “Ah already feel better.”

“How bad was it? The headache, I mean,” Rainbow asked.

“Worst headache Ah ever had, Ah dunno. Can’t really compare it to anythin’.”

“Was it like your head was about to split open?” Pinkie asked.

“We can go with that if ya like.”

“It might be a good idea to let me pass over your heads,” Fluttershy said. “Just in case there’s lasting damage. Um, maybe, but also later.”

“Like Ah said, it’s already fadin’,” Applejack said. She sighed and looked around the cabin.

“Moving forward,” Colgate said slowly, as if unsure.

“We’ve got warm clothes for you three already, and we’ve re-stocked on food and water, all that,” Twilight said.

“My dress!” Rarity cried, poking through the discarded saddlebags. “What happened?”

“I used it to dress my wounds,” Colgate said.

Rarity sighed.

“We’ve also got another airship lined up,” Twilight said. “Vinyl here saw to that.”

“That right?” Applejack asked.

“You’ve got no money,” Colgate said. “The treasury note was with us. It’s in the saddlebag, by the way. You should find it.”

“Paid out of pocket,” Vinyl said, blushing.

“Just thank goodness there’s an actual bank in this town,” Rarity grumbled. “And this one has ash all over it. Ugh, ruined.”

“We’ll get ya a new wardrobe,” Big Mac said, and Rarity gave him a smile.

“Now what about the Elements?” Applejack asked, her body shaking with a chain of coughs a moment after. She wiped her nose.

“Oh, right!” Twilight said. “Where did I put it?”

“Here,” Fluttershy said, grabbing a piece of paper.

“Thank you. Girls, this is from Vanilla, it came yesterday. It just says to look in Celestia’s Eye for ‘that which we seek.’ Obviously, that’s going to be one of our Elements.”

“Celestia’s Eye?” Applejack scoffed. “Typical. Speakin’ in riddles.”

“That’s what I thought at first, but actually, Celestia’s Eye is a real place name. It’s in the mountains, it’s a natural crystal formation.” She floated a map over from across the room and showed it to Applejack. “See? Right here on the northern tip, right here.”

“Well Ah’ll be darned.”

“I’d heard of it before, but completely forgotten,” Twilight said. “So that’s where we’re going next. The airship should be ready tomorrow, and we can get out of here.”

“And maybe we won’t crash this one,” Rainbow said. “What is this now? Like our seventh airship?”

“Something like that,” Pinkie said, and giggled. “Airships ain’t cheap, Dashie!”

At the time that should have been the crack of dawn, Twilight woke Vinyl and then went back to sleep herself, and Vinyl got ready. The outdoor shower consisted of a perforated bucket suspended over a small enclosure, and she washed as quickly as she could, awakened wide from the freezing water. Her mane had lost all but the last traces of product that gave her her signature look, and she had to lift it out of the way to clasp her goggles, something she was not used to. It hung over her back, cold and limp, blue as a summer sky and streaked with off-white. She spent fifteen minutes with the blow dryer, fifteen more struggling into her winter clothes, and then took up her saddlebags and hiked into Snowdrift.

Hours before their friends had returned from Tartarus, Big Mac had confessed to the group that he thought his glamour was dead, its purpose served, and that he felt useless without it. He had said he felt like an imposter in the group, a hanger-on, someone they appreciated but from whom they had no expectations. Everyone jumped to contradict him then, telling him that they valued his friendship, that he was an integral part of the team, and so on, and Vinyl had been right there with them, pretending that she did not feel exactly the same as he.

Vinyl was caught in the current of the Elements’ affairs, swept up in their adventure, and she had let it happen despite her every second thought. She had questioned herself about joining them, and been questioned, but, as she was finally realizing in the cold of Snowdrift, she had not heeded the questions, the doubts that underlay them. She had assumed that she would rise to the challenge, as she had all her life: the challenge of stardom, the challenge of donating money to charity, the challenge of giving a light to rescue workers, the challenge of changing Applejack’s ice in the hotel room.

Even in the mines, even on the jeweler’s doorstep, she had not thought—not seriously, not correctly—of the line she was crossing in agreeing to her new Element. Despite Twilight’s numerous warnings, Vinyl had assumed that she would meet the new challenge in time.

“Not ready yet, but ready in time,” she thought, and a smaller part of her mind, noting the phrase for its artfulness, set it aside as a starting point for a song. “Now we’re just about out of time. We’re rushing for the Elements, and I’m no closer to ready for mine.” She passed the first house at the Snowdrift border, its wide gutters fat with snow, its chimney smoking.

For most of the night before, the problem had felt further away, diminished in the joy of her friends and the heady punch of a wine bottle. In the clarifying air, though, it was just Vinyl and the truth: she wasn’t ready.

She had agreed because she thought she should, because it was the outcome everyone, including herself, expected. When she had joined up with them in Applewood, when she had burned her bridges and poised herself for throwing in with the destiny of the country, she had known she was setting herself up for greatness. She knew she was preparing for a long journey, and an arduous one; she had known there would be unexpected difficulties, and plenty of mundane ones as well. She had prepared herself for those eventualities by telling herself that she would not be angry or disillusioned when the romance of grand adventure faded, as she knew it must.

The challenge had turned out to not be in those things, but in the more fundamental truth that she thought she should have seen earlier: she simply did not fit. It was no one’s fault, it just was the way of things. She could be friends, and she could come to represent the group’s conscience in time, but such thoughts did not encourage her. They felt empty, deliberate and therefore done out of necessity rather than grace. It was a choice she had made for the wrong reason, because she thought she could help, never once considering the possibility that she was not needed. Overcoming the challenges she had anticipated was not the same thing as sharing the mantles her new friends had assumed, and to think so was to oversimplify the Elements’ place in the world. In the sobering morning, the truth seemed as bright and obvious as the moon, yet she had looked past it so many times, deferring judgment and deeper thought for when she was closer to ready, and always assuming that “closer to ready” would come—again—in time. She had taken the first step and assumed that everything else would fall into place, and it hadn’t.

“Can’t turn back, though. This I know,” she thought. She passed a dark tavern, and wished that it were open. She decided she would pop in for a quick one on her way back.

Snowdrift had not changed much from when she was younger. The roads, all white, were yet untouched by hoofsteps, fresh snow crunching underneath her. The houses leaned in like canyon walls, windows dark and faces lined with snow-caught sills and frames. In a few hours, the town would be alive with roadside stalls, carts and carriages rolling ruts into the snow, the occasional car rattling with cold. The Tartarus gateway just outside was not the evil stain that many imagined it was, and Vinyl knew that the majority of Snowdrift citizens hardly thought about it.

She passed Umbrella Park, where she had had her first kiss. The looming evergreens were frosted with ice, the paths slick and starlit, the palisades tipped with snow like birthday candles. She stopped just outside, remembering the way the trees had reached over the main entryway and nearly intertwined their branches, remembering the three-tier fountain and hoping it was still there. It would be frozen, but there would be a few bits on the surface of the ice anyway, waiting for their time to touch bottom.

The airship dealership was on the other side of the park, and she circled it quickly, cold despite her sweaters. A pastor was brushing snow off the stairs to his church, and they greeted each other.

“Darn it, Twilight,” Vinyl mumbled when she arrived. The dealership was still closed for another fifteen minutes. “Told you I didn’t need to get up so early.” She shivered and hid her muzzle in the neck of her sweater, leaning against the building’s side. She lifted her goggles and immediately replaced them, the reflective snow enough to hurt her eyes.

And there, in those fifteen minutes of idleness, the truth appeared again.

An overweight stallion nodded curtly to her when he came to open the building, fumbling with his keys. He held the door for her and flicked on the lights, then went to the thermostat and frowned as he adjusted the temperature.

“Gimme one moment, miss,” he said.

“You’re fine,” she said. She took a seat on the cushion by the water dispenser.

He grumbled to himself and pulled out a stack of papers, and Vinyl politely watched the space just next to him.

“All right, you’re the lady interested in the Sun Seeker, right?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

“Great.” He pulled out a fascicle of forms and brought it to a desk, yawning. “Sorry. Still early.”

She smiled, understanding, but not in the mood for small talk. They went over each document, she signing them all with her practiced celebrity’s signature, until it was light out and the building was humming softly with business. Ponies filing papers, chatting, beginning the day.

Vinyl gave him a check for twenty-five thousand bits and he sealed it in an envelope with copies of the papers she had signed. Then she waited, and he came back with a key.

“Key for an airship?” she asked. All of theirs had not required one.

“Well, it’s ‘cause it’s a newer model,” he said. “Added security.”

“Interesting.” She took it, thinking that they had no use for it; Applejack would just tap into the airship with her magic.

“Congratulations, ma’am. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

She blinked in the light outdoors, realizing with a start that she had not even noticed when the sun came out. It had crept up the horizon during their final transaction and turned the airship lot into a glittering plane of frost, the airships into dripping titans.

Vinyl had to concede to herself that she could have spent less money on an airship of equal utility. Theirs came fully prepared for world travel: waterproof deck, heavy duty balloon, enchanted torch, six monster propellers. The catalogue boasted that the Sun Seeker, a name Vinyl found fitting, could get them from Snowdrift to Roan in five days. It had headlights and fog lights, and a state of the art force field generator for inclement weather. It had three bedrooms and two bathrooms, a small dining room and even a kitchen nestled beneath the captain’s quarters, where they could look through magical, streak-proof glass as the world unfolded.

That was fifteen thousand bits. The other ten thousand went into the glossy paint; the sweet-smelling wood paneling; the extra vents to diffuse smoke behind them; the decorated gunwales; and the figurehead made in the image of a cantering Celestia, which was made of plaster so as not to unbalance the ship. The extra money went into the tasseled carpets inside, the brass light fixtures, the extra strong water heater for comfortable showers, and the tub in the other bathroom. It went to the extra space on the poop deck for them to hang laundry, and for the tiny balcony over the rudder where they could use a telescope. It went to the ostentatious words, Sun Seeker, in gold on both sides, each painted letter coiled with painted olive branches.

It also went into the four-year warranty she let the salespony talk her into.

On her hind legs, she leaned against the ship’s ramp and gave a wide smile to the camera’s flash. They shook hooves, he congratulated her again—using her stage name—and she left the lot, feeling a little better about herself.

She stopped into the tavern on her way back, open and empty save a pair of waitresses.

“Bartender’s not in yet, hon, but I can get you something if you’d like,” one said, rag on her back as she met Vinyl across the bar.

Vinyl perused the menu for a moment before ordering a boulevardier. It was early, but the waitress didn’t blink as she mixed Vinyl’s cocktail.

“Keep your tab open?”

“Nah, close it out,” Vinyl said. “I’m leaving town today, I can’t really relax much.”

“Hope the weather’s with you,” the waitress said. “Are you here for business?”

“You can say that. I’m meeting some friends here, but there’s business to be done too. I dunno, it’s complicated.”

“Yep.” She busied herself for a moment, wiping the bar and closing Vinyl’s tab. “It is what it is. I didn’t figure you were here for vacation, not at this time of year.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t,” Vinyl said. “It’s funny, we’re actually gonna head south, into the Friesians.”

“Be careful, hon.”

“I know it. Our pilot’s pretty good, so I’m not worried. Not about that, anyway.”

“I’m just glad the sun’s finally up. Did you hear what Princess Luna said about it the other day?”

Vinyl raised her eyebrows, sipping at her drink. “No, must’ve missed it.”

“She said that it’s all an illusion, that Discord conjured it to scare us, and we shouldn’t worry. Princess Celestia’s hard at work breaking the illusion as we speak.”

“Yeah?”

“I think they might as well wait for those Elements to put him down first, before worrying about some illusion. Who’s saying he won’t just toss out another one right after, right?”

“Yeah, totally. I get you.”

“Anyway. Well, let me know if you need anything.”

Vinyl took another sip and stared into her drink, regretting her decision to come in. There was indignity in being the first pony at the bar, especially in the morning, and with her friends waiting at the cabin. She frowned and finished, and it crossed her mind to order another. “What’s one more?” she thought. “I’m already here. I’m already in it.”

“Actually,” she started. “I think I can do with something else.” The waitress returned to her, face passive. “Something fast, something quick.” She scanned the bar. “Uhhh, just a shot of the Metallurgist, please.” At this, the waitress raised her eyebrow, but poured out a shot of the trusted brand. Vinyl downed it.

“Anything else?”

“Let’s make it… No, that’s fine, thanks. How much?”

She paid and stepped back into the soft snowfall, trudging back toward the cabin, head fuzzy. She could see the gateway in the distance, a black smear on the ground.

The group walked through town to the dealership, ignoring as best they could the recognition, the calls, the attempts at conversation. Vinyl led them, burning with guilt at her detour, but no one mentioned it.

They boarded, they marveled at the decorations and the furnishings, they walked through rooms and sniffed the natural paneling. Rainbow commented that it would be a shame when they crashed it, too, and Pinkie laughed with her.

Then they took off.

Flitter had signed Ink Pearl’s document ten days prior, releasing the Datura of any liability in the event of her injury or death in the line of duty—which, Ink Pearl was fast to point out, were more than possible with her new assignment.

The Pegasus Advocates, meanwhile, appeared more and more in the news: explosive demonstrations, vandalism, even an organized attack on an earth pony fruit stand. Many of them used magic in the form of amulets, watches, or articles of clothing, and these Flitter tracked in her growing notebook, dense with notes on PA culture.

She went to Chilly Clouds’ house every night, and on the very first visit, they went over her new body. Still stunned by her decision, too afraid to be angry at Ink, she let Chilly Clouds walk her through her options. She was to be another pegasus of similar stature, age, and physiognomy. Flitter looked through a booklet of sample bodies, disguised as a fashion magazine for the passing eye, and they spent the entire evening weighing choices and making decisions. By the end, she felt little better.

Her new name was April Showers—not her choice—and that was what her peers called her. She would be a royal blue pegasus with an amethyst mane, straight and heavy; her periwinkle eyes were to be drawn inwards slightly to a narrower muzzle, and Chilly said they would give her imperfect sinuses. “Imperfections are key, April,” she had said. Flitter selected a generic sunshine and cloud cutie mark, and, when given the option, chose to be on the taller side.

“That’ll make it harder to re-adjust to flight. Are you sure?” Chilly had asked.

“I’d like to be able to see over ponies’ heads.”

“Fair enough.” Chilly marked a note in her book.

The next day, she quit her job at The Equine Sun. She had fantasized about a grand walk-out, a denouncement of everything she had come to loathe at the magazine while her coworkers applauded her, but when it came to it, she meekly gave her resignation to her boss and gathered up her things. No one seemed put off to see her leave.

Acting lessons came next, six hours a day and followed by two hours of backstory rehearsal and general PA education. How Chilly had the time to invent the story of April Showers’ new life, Flitter did not know, but the level of detail exhausted her. After a day of improvising as her character, the quick change to rote memorization always left her in a poor mood by the time she got home. For that entire week, she went home to Wings and Jet as tired as when she had interned for the magazine. She had not told them of her resignation, and they appeared to notice no difference; they were busy working on Ink’s sky dome.

What no one had yet broached with her, but what she had foreseen on her own, was severing ties with the two pegasi. Once Flitter was gone, April Showers could not conveniently take her place.

“Evening, April,” Chilly said, admitting Flitter to her small house.

“Evening.” Flitter went to the recliner and examined the notes spread on Chilly’s coffee table, looking longingly at the cup of coffee by Chilly’s seat.

“Before we get started tonight, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

Flitter frowned, and Chilly took a seat.

“If I may. April?”

“Go on, do it,” Flitter said.

Chilly smiled. “You don’t have to be in character for this.”

“Right—sorry. Yeah, I’m still kind of in it.”

“That’s good, it’s getting easier.”

“In a sense.”

“Mm. So, how did you become first interested in the PA movement?”

Without blinking, Flitter began. “I grew up in a rough part of town—”

“What part?”

“Uh, the Manehattan ghetto. There’s lots of, uh…”

Chilly watched her.

“Farm Kings there. My family was poor, so we didn’t have a choice. I was able to make friends with a pegasus gang there, me and my brother.”

“What was his name?”

“Icicle, uh, Icicle Rain. Why is that important? No one’s gonna know who that is anyway, or care.”

“Consistency, April. It has to be natural, every part.”

“Ugh.” She frowned, remembering her story. “And, uh, one day they attacked us, yadda yadda yadda, fight, then brother dies. Stabbed, right?”

“How’s an earth pony going to stab a pegasus?”

“Right, my bad. They shot him, one of those sneaky little pulse crystals. One of ‘em kicked me in the—” She glanced at the coffee again. “The ribs. Cracked ribs. Right, ‘cause then I was in the hospital for however long—”

“A couple weeks.”

“A couple weeks, and then I got out and started getting more active with the pegasus gang. Ever since then,” she shook her head, “Just hated those non-pegasi. Hated ‘em, I say.”

“Convince me,” Chilly said humorlessly.

“I thought you said I didn’t have to be in character?”

“Just tell me how April feels about non-pegasi.”

“Geez. Well, I know I’m real mad. It’s kind of a reactionary thing whenever I see someone else now, one of those S-words or T-words nearby, even if they’re not looking at me or talking to me.”

“You can say it here, I won’t mind.”

Flitter nodded. “Those, uh, those stompers and… twinklers.” She glanced at Chilly Clouds, her horn, but the epithet did not faze the unicorn.

“Is April afraid of these ponies?”

“Heck no!”

“Yeah?”

“That is, she’ll never admit it. Her brother was everything to her, and now that he’s gone, it’s like those dirty stompers took a piece of her heart with them.”

“What’s she got against the twinklers?”

“Uhh… Non-pegasi?”

“Because—”

“No, ‘cause the unicorn policeponies didn’t help that night! They could have, but they didn’t even show.”

“There you go.”

“And she did cruddy in school, didn’t make many friends until she fell in with another gang of pegasi here in Canterlot, and now… here she is. Here I am, rather.”

Chilly Clouds looked at her for a moment, and Flitter’s smile dimmed. She could never tell when she had offended or disappointed Chilly.

“What are you looking to get out of the PAs?”

“I’m looking for—” She paused. Not solidarity, or unity, or racial pride; she was a confused and angry mare, adrift and unsure of herself. She wanted revenge, but her private fear held her back from chasing it. Those two points had been impressed upon her multiple times, that too cogent a goal in joining the PAs would seem suspicious. New recruits were not often given to self-analysis; they were frequently driven by their emotions, which they could not often label with any great granularity. “I don’t really know. I just know, when I heard about them, it seemed like a good fit.”

“Wonderful. Criminal record?”

“Nothing stuck.” They were getting to the part Flitter remembered better.

“But you got up to some stuff, did you?”

“Petty theft, vandalism, an assault or two back in the Manehattan days.”

“Are you looking for revenge?”

“I’m not dedicating my life to it, but if the opportunity came, I’d jump on it.”

“I thought you said they killed your brother.”

“Right.” She rubbed her eyes. “You’re right, I’m angrier and stupider than that. Uh, ask me again.”

“Are you looking for revenge?”

“More than anything.”

Chilly nodded. “You ever seen a dead body?”

“I—huh?"

“A corpse.”

Flitter made a face. “I’m not gonna encounter that, am I? I’m just gonna be there a week or two.”

“Who told you a week or two?”

“Ink.” Her heart sank. “Right?”

Chilly thought for a moment. “Let’s just say that Ink Pearl has some… optimistic expectations. April, I wouldn’t count on a week with the PAs.”

“Well what the hell? Why not?”

“I’m just saying not to assume that time frame. Things can go wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

“That would mostly depend on you. Remember, we’re going to be at a considerable distance from you the second you step into that new body. You’re not gonna have backup.”

“Yeah, that she keeps reminding me of.”

“Because it’s true. Now, a few more questions, and we’ll get to work.”

“What’s the topic today, anyway?”

“Style of dress, personal hygiene, and the infamous red ribbons.”

“Oh joy.”

“Where does April stay?”

“April—ugh, I’ve got a flat on the west side. I do, right?”

“It’ll be ready by the time you change over.”

“Yeah, that. I live alone, and that’s how I like it.”

“What brought you to Canterlot?”

“Same as everyone else. Manehattan turned into a lemon, and I emigrated. We emigrated, I mean. Parents came too.”

“Are they still in the picture?”

“Psh.”

“Nice. How are you with a pulse crystal?”

Flitter rolled her eyes. “Gee, that’s gonna depend on how much target practice I get in before I change.”

“Fair enough. I’ll take you… sometime. I’ll find time.”

“Sure.”

Chilly looked at her.

“I mean fine. Fine, I mean, that’s fine. Whenever you have time, that’s… That’s fine.” She lowered her eyes. “Ma’am.”

“I would just say you need to watch out for how quick you recall some things. It almost sounds rehearsed in a couple places, which, of course, it is. It can’t sound that way when you get out there.”

“I doubt they’d notice.”

“No no no, April, you can’t assume something like that. Remember not to underestimate these ponies. Some of them, I’m sure, are quite bright.”

“I wish you had some case studies for me to go over, or some dossiers or something.”

“You and me both. All right, let’s get to it. So you know the PAs like to dress flashy. Don’t worry about that, they’ll be more than happy to set you up with an outfit once you get yourself recruited. I’ve seen ‘em at the mall tons of times, shopping in little packs.”

In Ponyville, a small group of varying size convened every few days for talk, snacks, and cards. They called the gatherings “Candles for the Elements,” and for the first few minutes of each, they would stand respectful vigil over a circle of lit candles, each pony imagining her or his support filling the room and somehow helping the Elements of Harmony on their quest.

Then, the electric lights came up, the cards were shuffled, and the bowls and glasses were spread out.

Allie Way shuffled the cards with her hooves, a difficult trick but a sign of good faith. It was harder to cheat with a non-magical shuffle—not that they worried about that in their circle. She was joined by Cloudchaser, Berry Punch, Derpy Hooves, and Limestone Pie, absent a usual member in Carrot Top and plus an extra in Limestone. They played in Derpy’s cottage, from where they could see the dark schoolhouse.

“Did yesterday let up at all, Cloud?” Berry asked.

“Not really,” Cloudchaser said. “Today was a lot better, though. No one’s really interested in the spa on a Monday.” She gave Limestone a smile. “Lime’s been a huge help lately, too.”

“I do my best,” Limestone said shyly.

“I’ve always thought you girls look so dashing in those little uniforms,” Allie said, passing out the cards. “Seven card stud, and, uhh, deuces. That’s all.”

Each mare examined her cards for a moment, and Berry chewed a pretzel. Limestone threw a single bit into the middle.

“I’m all in,” Derpy said on her turn, and everyone looked at her. “Kidding.” She threw a bit into the pot.

“So any news on the Elements lately? Last I heard, they were down south,” Berry asked. “Near that mountain chain, the Friesians. I can’t imagine being there at this time of year!”

“I heard they were headed up to Snowdrift,” Cloudchaser said.

“That evil place?”

“It’s not so evil,” Allie said. “Not that I’ve been. But, you know.”

“I have not heard of this place,” Limestone said, checking as the bet came to her.

“All the better,” Derpy said. “What about Discord? Any news there?”

“Same as usual,” Cloudchaser said. “Radio silence. I asked my sister if she knew anything, but I haven’t heard back.”

“She’s in Canterlot, right?” Berry asked as Derpy uttered a quiet “yeeeees,” taking the pot. Allie shuffled the cards for Limestone and gave them to her to pass out.

“Yep.”

“I’m jealous,” Allie said, sharing a moment of eye contact with Cloudchaser. “Lots of interesting things happen in the big city.”

“Imagine the shopping!” Berry said.

“Five card draw is the one where we discard and get new ones?” Limestone asked.

“You got it.”

“Okay.” She clumsily dealt. “Five card draw, nothing wild.”

“Oooooh.”

“What’s she doing nowadays?” Derpy asked.

“Oh, you know, just fulfilling her dreams, showing up her big sister like always,” Cloudchaser said with mock bitterness. “She got herself an internship with The Equine Sun up there. It’s not a, like a serious magazine, but it’s a start.” She chuckled. “I believe she referred to it as a ‘rag’ in her last note to me.”

“What is that?” Limestone asked. Berry discarded three cards, and the betting went around.

“It’s a term for any disreputable magazine,” Derpy said.

“Or newspaper,” Allie said.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know your sister was into writing,” Berry said.

“I think it’s more the publication side of things,” Cloudchaser said. “You know how she’s always got an opinion on important stuff.”

“I miss getting her take on politics with my hooficure,” Allie said. “She always seemed quite sensible to me.”

“Well, best of luck to her,” Derpy said, folding.

“Get this,” Cloudchaser said. “Straight, Allie. What say you?”

Allie laid down her cards with a smirk, and took the pot. Berry Punch laughed and got up.

“You think it’s too early for a little wine?” she asked from the kitchen.

“On a Monday?” Limestone asked.

“I can have some,” Cloudchaser said. “Just a glass or two.”

Berry returned from the kitchen and placed her bottle on the table. “I was considering bringing my decanter, but I didn’t want to lug it all the way out here. This here, girls, comes to us all the way from a little vineyard north of Applewood; not one of those big, popular ones inside the city, but right outside.” She turned the bottle so each mare could see the label. “From a little village called Torch Hill. They’ve been living off the land there for almost fifty years, and this little beauty’s been aging in their barrels for… ten or so years now? Twelve, thirteen, something like that. Where’s my corkscrew?”

Allie passed her the corkscrew, and Berry opened the wine. Without benefit of a horn, it was usually an awkward process, but Berry made it look easy. She poured a goblet for herself and sniffed it.

“They’ve got blackberry wine in Torch Hill too, but I haven’t tried it yet. I can’t find it anywhere. But, now this is interesting, ladies, they did take a little bit of the pomace from their blackberries and let it ferment with this batch. That’s going to be that heady, almost overripe note towards the back.”

“I think I taste it,” Cloudchaser said. She actually did not, but hated to stifle Berry’s enthusiasm.

“This is… interesting,” Allie said. “I feel like I’ve had something like this before.”

“If you’ve had anything from Fillydelphia, you may have,” Berry said. “Their wines tend to be a little on the sweeter side too.” She took a long sip of her wine, her face serious and contemplative as she analyzed it, savored it. “I wish Torch Hill had a white.”

“You should make your own sometime,” Derpy said.

“Not in this climate. Here, gimme those cards.” She shuffled. “For that matter, not with my know-how.”

“You just drink it, you can’t make it,” Cloudchaser said.

Berry laughed. “Essentially, yes. All right, girls, I think… Yeah, let’s go for low guts.”

“Guts!” Allie repeated in a funny voice.

“Guts!” Derpy mimicked.

The cards were dealt, and Cloudchaser drank more wine. “What do you think of the wine, Limestone?” she asked.

Limestone thought for some time. “It is less bitter than some I have had.”

Berry laughed. “Well, that’s good, at least.”

“Did you hear that they’re rolling out a batch of Element wine up in Canterlot?” Allie asked. “Six different varieties.”

“I did hear that! Isn’t that crazy?”

“If that’s not the most cynical thing I’ve heard all month, I don’t know what,” Derpy said. “I bet ponies are just eating it up, too.”

“Probably,” Allie said.

Play continued for several rounds, and the pot grew, and as it did, the tension thickened. The mares played with real money, and there was always a fair amount on the line with guts. Outside, a bird shook inside one of Derpy’s many shrubs.

“I’m out,” Cloudchaser finally said. “I’m cutting my losses.”

“I wish I was as smart as you,” Allie said, showing her card and, with a cry of delight, inching closer to the pot.

“I can’t believe you got that one on a six,” Derpy said.

The losers put their money into the pot, and the next round was dealt. Cloudchaser watched, relieved to be out. Gambling did not draw her in as it did some of the others—Allie and Berry, notably. She enjoyed it, just not as much.

She had spoken with Allie briefly before heading over to Derpy’s about Datura business, of which there was little in Ponyville. A mare from Canterlot had come down to recruit weatherponies for the sky dome, which, Cloudchaser had gotten out of Flitter, was already in place and scheduled to turn on in eight days. She and Allie had concluded that the Datura must have possessed such a dome already, because creating it from scratch would take years, not weeks. The thought gave Cloudchaser a weird feeling that she could not name.

She assumed that Flitter was at work with the dome, and would soon receive a letter full of complaints and opinions: inefficiency this, mindless labor that. Then the dome would flick on, and the ponies of Canterlot would be fooled and encouraged, and Flitter would privately concede that the work had been worth it after all, for false hope was still hope at the end of the day. Cloudchaser had not the patience for political or philosophical debates, as Flitter did, but had found herself missing them of late. She tried to engage Limestone in such talk, but Limestone seemed to have no opinion on anything save work: a product of her sheltered upbringing.

“Guts!” Derpy yelled, throwing her final card in the air and claiming the pot, and a chorus of groans and congratulations floated off the table.

“I don’t think my heart can take another round of that,” Berry said. “Good one, Derpy. You nag.”

Derpy laughed and accepted the cards, which she clumsily shuffled.

Cloudchaser was joking when she said that Flitter was off showing her up in the big city, but there was truth to it. While she managed the spa and did odd jobs for Foxglove, the Ponyville Datura team leader, Flitter was making a difference in the capital. The lack of detail in some of her letters did not fool Cloudchaser; there was more on Flitter’s plate than she could allude to, and, from the sound of things, even more on the way. It was difficult not to be jealous.

They played until the bottle of wine was finished, and then an hour longer, and then each mare went home. For Cloudchaser, home was a little cottage she shared with the resident florist, Rose Luck. For Limestone, home was a shed that the abutting house’s tenant did not mind she used.

Rose was already asleep when Cloudchaser returned, and the pegasus tried to be quiet as she crept to her room. When she heard Rose’s hooves in the hall, she sighed, and Rose poked her head into Cloudchaser’s room a moment later.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Cloudchaser said. Rose was a light sleeper, and Cloudchaser always felt guilty for waking her.

“Have fun with the girls?” Rose asked.

“Great time, as always.”

Rose smiled and yawned. “That’s good. You mind if I’m up and about for a while?”

“I won’t hear you.”

“Awesome. Night.” Rose closed Cloudchaser’s door, and it was not long after that she heard her roommate rustling in the kitchen. Once woken, Rose was long to get back to sleep, something Cloudchaser had taken a while to get used to. Sometimes, she would go on walks around the town, or read, or watch TV with the volume down low. Less frequently, she would pull out her cookbook and bake something for the next day. Cloudchaser listened to the dull sound of a knife chopping apples through the wall, and fell asleep with the smell of cinnamon and cardamom seeping in under her door.

The Sun Seeker was the fastest airship they had been on, and the landscape skated past them under a broken skin of dark clouds. North on a train and then south on an airship; it seemed to Rainbow, as Twilight set up her elaborate chain of sigils on the poop, that they were going in circles. Fluttershy was fast to remind her that they were heading toward a known Element location, but Rainbow did not quite believe it. Until she held it in her hooves, she did not trust Vanilla’s direction.

“I’ve done the math,” Twilight said. “You girls will be happy to learn that, once we get Dash in place here, we’ll be reaching the Friesian Mountains by tomorrow morning.”

The sun was up again, caught in a back-and-forth loop between the ten and eleven o’ clock position. That morning, Pinkie had raced into the cabins to alert everyone when the sun matched their timepiece’s position.

“Yer sure of that?” Applejack asked.

Twilight looked at her back. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Sorry. Don’t know why Ah asked that. Ah trust yer math, Ah do.”

A silver vein of river guided them south, parallel with the thinner capillary of train track. They floated over a thin patchwork of villages around a wide bend in the river, and Vinyl pointed them out. That was where she had been born, a village of gold panners and prospectors. The walk to Snowdrift, she explained, had been trying, especially for one as young as she had been, but not uncommon. If they flew lower, she would be able to point out the trail ponies used to travel between towns, she said.

The villages were there and gone in the space of a half hour, and when Rainbow was finally ready behind the ship, speeding them along in a mire of Twilight’s recursive magic, it was as if an unspoken trigger had been pulled, and tension no one acknowledged was released. They were on their way again.

Applejack and Fluttershy shared a cabin, both reading, comfortably silent with each other. They had lost many of their texts to Tartarus, but some essentials had been saved. Applejack perused an encyclopedia, turning to various topics on spirituality and religion, reading indiscriminately and not trying to order her thoughts too much as they circled on the stationary axis, which had revealed itself to her the same day she had come out of Tartarus: what was it like to be a goddess? Right beside that thought: what were the implications of divinity sharing the world with mortals? She had taken these things as givens her whole life, but the questions suddenly seemed interesting, perhaps even important.

Fluttershy perused one of Twilight’s spell books, reading and rereading the paragraphs on memory-altering magic. She fought the urge to grab a pen and paper, knowing the small action would draw attention, and, worse, leave tangible evidence of her intentions.

She would need to act soon. Vanilla had directed them to the first new Element in a matter of days, and with their new ship moving as fast as it did, she was coming to think of their quest in terms of weeks rather than months. Equestria was large, but also familiar to them, and they would not be stopped easily. In the past, local trouble or inessential tasks had distracted, but she knew they would no longer—certainly not with Twilight leading, as she did without objection or question from the rest of them.

In another cabin, Octavia and Colgate spoke, the former practicing shield magic on a pillow, the latter pacing restively.

“It is true, I have made life harder for myself,” Octavia said slowly, and Colgate nodded. “I associate difficulty with labor, and labor with virtue. I believe that is why I do that.”

“Idle hooves are the devil’s playthings?” Colgate asked. “That the point?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Fair.” She sat, then got back up after a second. “I can see where that makes sense. I’ve gotten into trouble for being unsupervised before. That happened in Canterlot.”

“You have mentioned that before. There was alcohol involved, was there not?”

“And painkillers. Messy times.”

“I have never understood the need to take drugs.”

“Good for you.”

Octavia looked over her pillow. “Not to suggest that I judge those who do. We all have our demons. I simply meant that those particular ones do not come easily to me.”

“Right.” She faced the wall for a moment, contemplating a charcoal hanging of a forested mountain. “For me, it’s impulsivity. Forethought is not my strongest suit.”

“I see.”

“That and trust. You probably figured that out already.”

“That you have issues with trust?”

Colgate looked at her for a time. “Yeah. It’s, uh, not pleasant.”

Octavia thought. It was her intention to weave a tactful response, but she was tired and weak, and though Colgate’s words demanded attention, most of her mind was filled with definite fear. She sighed. “I will not pretend that I did not notice that there was something off about you. You act like you are suspicious of everyone, guarded.”

“Yeah.” She paced again. “It’s ‘cause I am.”

“Why is that?”

“Various reasons, but nothing strange.”

“Yes?”

“You want details.”

“Of course I want details,” she thought. “I will not push you if you are uncomfortable. I loathe when ponies do that to me, and I would not do it to another.”

“Just betrayal,” Colgate said. “Manipulation, betrayal, coercion, and so on and so forth. I felt it in Ponyville first. No, lies—Manehattan first. That’s where I was born.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got some employers who don’t treat me right, and that has affected me. There.”

“I do not understand, but I will not push you.”

“It’s fine.”

Octavia tried to tighten her shield around the pillow, but it collapsed instead. With a sigh, she started again, but it came out frail and gossamer. “I am sorry? What did you say?”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Hm.” She thought of the deck, her friends gathered there, and the fear tightened. She could not shrink from it. “Do you trust me and Applejack?”

“What a question.”

“Do you?”

“Sure don’t.” She paused and shook her head. “That’s the impulse response. I actually don’t know. Lemme think.”

Octavia nodded.

“You both got me out of Tartarus okay,” Colgate said at last. “Which, uh, yeah. So, I wasn’t super sure of that down in there.”

“That we would make it out?”

“That we…” She edged toward the door. “That I would make it out of there. I thought it was possible you two would, but I wouldn’t.”

“We would not have left you, if that is what you are suggesting.”

“It crossed my mind, is all.”

“You ran from us once or twice. Were you afraid that one of us would do something?”

Colgate sat down, her tail waving back and forth.

“I will not be angry or insulted if the answer is ‘yes’.”

“Sure. Yeah, then, I was a little worried about that. You, uh, you more than AJ, to give full disclosure on it.”

“I understand.” Her shield flickered and went out. She was slightly insulted, but did not show it.

“But you didn’t do anything. Tartarus is a perfect place for it, you had to know that. That big desert, or the river, or that fire trench, any of it really, you could’ve just kicked me off and ran. You got some explosive magic, you could’ve just tossed me. I’d have…” She began pacing again. “Right, yeah, okay. Anyway, you could’ve done all that, or AJ could have dropped a rock on my head or something while I was sleeping. No, she’s the Element of Honesty, she said she meant me no harm. I gotta trust that.”

“It sounds to me like you are still not certain.”

“Okay.”

“In a way, I understand. I did not trust my friends for some time after meeting them.”

“Right.”

“I thought that they were… Not out to get me, or anything, but that they would shun me if I did not work out with them. There were a few times when that did come to pass, but they forgave me each time.” She dropped the pillow and swept it off the bed, moving quickly to mask her trembling.

“They forgive a lot.”

“I intend to learn to do the same,” Octavia said.

“Talk to Vinyl. She seems good about that.”

“That is a good idea. Thank you.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Colgate answered. “Brunch and a card game, girls?” Pinkie asked. “Sun’s still up! C’mon, come see it while the seeing’s good!”

Octavia sat where she was, staring at the wall.

“We’ll be up in a few,” Colgate said, and Pinkie skipped off. “What’s the deal, Octavia?”

“I do not wish to discuss it,” Octavia whispered. In her head, she was already discussing it.

“You look upset.”

She looked at Colgate with a ghost of a smile. “That is because I am.”

“Huh.” She straightened the pillowcase and replaced it on the bed. “Why are you upset?”

“Because… of something I am thinking about doing. Something I am considering.”

“You consider things an awful lot.” She paused for a second, the sign Octavia recognized as her ordering her thoughts. “I envy that a little.”

“It is not worthy of envy. One spends too much time worrying and thinking things over, and it hinders progress.”

“Eh, maybe. But if you’re safe already, then what’s wrong with hindering progress?”

Octavia looked at her.

“C’mon, fresh air. Maybe that’ll make you calm down.”

Octavia shakily quit the bed and followed behind Colgate, who doubled back to close the door to their cabin.

On the deck, Rarity had conjured a simple shield to keep the wind from blowing their cards away. Vinyl had thought to pick up a deck in Snowdrift, to everyone’s relief and pleasure. The cards were griffin-designed, the face cards depicting griffin nobility, the ace a speckled egg.

“Go fish okay with everyone?” Applejack asked as Fluttershy shuffled.

“Anything,” Octavia said. “Vinyl, before I forget, I would like to speak with you at some point, when you have time.”

“Anytime, Octavia,” Vinyl said.

“You three came out pretty close buddies, huh?” Pinkie asked, looking from Octavia to Colgate to Applejack.

“Ah’d say so,” Applejack said.

“Yes, I as well,” Octavia said.

“You look better,” Pinkie said.

Octavia looked at her for a minute before lowering her eyes and saying, “yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes.” She sighed.

“How’s the sleeping?” Rarity asked suddenly.

“My sleeping. It has not changed much. I do not expect it to at this point.” Her heart was beating faster, and her breaths were growing short. Noticing, Vinyl put a hoof to her back.

“I wish it would.” Rarity held up a hoof. “And that’s all I’m saying about it. I won’t pry anymore.”

“Why do you have trouble sleeping, anyway?” Colgate asked. “Has it always been that way?”

Octavia looked at the deck, cold sweat in a line on her brow. An idea that had germinated in Tartarus and that had fermented in Snowdrift had again showed itself that morning. She had awoken with the thought, “today is the day,” and she had been unable to dispel it since. Neither a cold shower nor an enlightening talk with Colgate had swayed her from her revelation, terrible and inevitable—so it felt to her. The weight of confession had already settled across her chest, squeezing her spirit and blotting out everything else.

In the suddenness of the moment, she realized again that she could not speak. She could smile and play cards, and the day would pass, and others like it, and she could go on having not owned her fear. Likely, her friends would never know what they had missed. Her heart felt like a hummingbird, fast and small, as she examined the moment. The passing of air and cloud was a rush of cold water. The sun, a spotlight on her. She gently removed Vinyl’s hoof from her back, still undecided, but rushing forward anyway.

“Sorry,” Vinyl said.

“I have difficulties because of my past, as I am sure you know.” She paused and looked at them, taking the group as one but not really seeing any of them. “This is what happened.”