The fairgrounds smelled like caramel corn, cider, and too many ponies. The grounds were nearly two miles wide and had been divided into four quarters around Sungleam Square, where Cadence’s Bell hung. There was the Exhibition Grounds to the north, where showponies, inventors, and preachers could pay a deposit to rent the large stage and get a cut of ticket sales. To the south was the Market, where vendors hawked their wares. To the west was the Bazaar, where sideshows and circus-style acts competed with each other for the onlooking crowd’s bits. Finally, to the east was the dancing pit and the race course. In the evenings, the dancing pit was alive with music and revelry. During the day, the race course pulled almost as many ponies as its neighbor did during the night.

The crowds of revelers so congested the four districts of the fairgrounds that even the sky was packed with flying patrons. It seemed like everypony for miles had come to Ponyville for the Summer Sun Celebration.

Of course they did, he chided himself. It’s the Millennial of our Kingdom, and the Four Hundredth Anniversary of the Battle of Broken Bough.

Broken Bough, where Nightmare Moon’s horde of monsters, the Gathering Dark, had been stamped out for good by the forces of Equestria, and King Sungleam XXI had personally taken the field against the Last Warlord and ended the War of Eternal Night.

Who wouldn’t want to celebrate that? What foal would— is that apple fritters I smell?

“Gangway,” he shouted, and flapped his wings as fast as he could. In a blur of motion, he zipped around the food stalls, seeking out the tantalizing scent of the freshly-baked delicacies. He took turns at speed, and ruffled a few tassels of the fashionable mares nearby.

Nothing in the Market. No food vendors in the Bazaar. It was as if—

He clapped his forehooves together. The dancing pit! Nopony’s gonna be dancing there this early, so the other vendors gotta be there!

He rolled forward, spurred to greater speeds by his deduction, straight into Sungleam Square. He didn’t have a chance to see the pretty white unicorn mare with the blonde mane who stepped in front of him. She was looking somewhere else when he struck, but they both found themselves sprawled on the ground.

“Oof!” Tempest had the air knocked out of him, and he lay on the ground clutching at his stomach.

Several feet away, he saw the delicate filly stand up and sway to her hooves, a musical note done in rich blues and purples on her flank. He tried doing the same, but he couldn’t breathe.

“Ow!” She stretched her body out, and took a deep breath. Her horn shone with a pale violet, and a matching aura wreathed her neck. Nothing happened. She gasped.

“My pendant!” She began frantically looking around the accident, and finally saw Tempest. “Oh, dear! Are you OK?” Her voice was gentle and cultured, with a Canterlot accent.

“… yeah,” he rasped. “I’m fine. Sorry about crashing into you. I, uh, had somewhere to be.” He stood up, and gingerly stretched his wings out. They were strained a little, but nothing a little ground-pounding wouldn't fix.

She looked abashed. “I’m sorry to keep you... what did you say your name was?”

Tempest chuckled. “I didn’t. I’m Tempest.”

She grinned. “Glad to meet you, Tempest. I’m, er…” she glanced around for a moment, seeking her lost pendant. “I’m Meadowsong. If it’s not too much trouble—“

He cut her off with a wave of his hoof. “Say no more, I’m at fault here. I should’ve been watching where I was flying. Need a hoof finding your pendant?”

She stamped on the ground in relief. “That would be wonderful! It’s been in the family for generations, and I’d hate to lose it!”

See what you did? The little pony in his head said. What if some jerk made you lose Dad’s sword?

He gritted his teeth, and bowed his head. “I’m so sorry. Here, I did it; you take these bits, and go get a cider. I’ll find it.”

Meadowsong smiled again, and wrapped the proffered coins in her magic. “Thanks, but no. Let’s get started, shall we?” And with that, she pressed the coins back into Tempest’s hoof and began searching.

Tempest wasted no time; he stepped backwards, looked at the impact site, and scanned the periphery. There, glittering underneath a nearby candy vendor’s stall, was a red stone carved into a sun. This had to be it. He cantered over, slid his hoof underneath, and swept it out.

“Hey, Meadowsong! Here it is!”

In a cloud of dust, she was upon him. “Thank you so much!”  She raised an eyebrow. “Er, may I have it back? I know I’m supposed to give you a reward--”

At Tempest's sudden peals of laughter, Meadowsong furrowed her brow and stepped away.  Perplexed, she began, “I’m sorry, I must be missing something...”

Tempest wiped a tear from his eye, and shook his mane. “No, no. You keep it, it’s yours. Reward. Heh. Where’d you get a silly idea like that? Look, if you want to pay me back for it, why not just help out the next pony who needs it?”

Her face lit up, as she laced her magic around the golden necklace, and clasped it around her neck. “Really? You’re such a gentlecolt, Tempest. I’d heard Ponyvilleans were a rough-and-tumble sort.”

Tempest shrugged. “Sure, some ponies can be jerks, but that’s true everywhere.”

Her grin brightened, and she pranced in place for a moment. “I am ever so grateful, Tempest. Um...” She looked around, taking in the Square as if for the first time. “Are you perhaps a local?”

He nodded.

“Would you mind showing me around the Celebration? I’m from out of town, and don’t know anypony--”

“I’d be honored, miss.” He grinned.

“Please. Just call me Meadowsong. Not--” she stuck her tongue out, “-- not ‘miss’, nor ‘milady’, nor any other such silliness.”

Tempest raised an eyebrow. “Okay, sorry. Didn’t realize you Canterlot folk were so touchy about titles. Now, what do you wanna do first? The races? The food? The exhibits? I was after some fritters before--”

She sidled up close to him, and brushed his neck. “Your choice. Show me the world!” Next Chapter: Chapter 3: The Racetrack Estimated time remaining: 26 Minutes