Following her very revealing talk with Dusky and Brush Stroke, Airmail’s small burst of speed easily allowed her to catch up with, and join, her two herd-mates and lovers flying at the head of their loose formation. Any other time, with anypony else, she would’ve been enjoying the scenery of the fine Equestrian countryside passing below her, but today there were other concerns. Namely, training Wildfire’s wings. “Okay,” - she smiled as she pulled up at Wildfire’s left - “let’s pick up the pace girls!”

Tempest -who actually was enjoying the view of a fast flowing river winding its way through some hills below her and into the Everfree Forest that lay just off her left wing- looked up at her herd-mate and blinked in surprise. “My pace or your pace?” she asked with a smile.

“Mine please, Stormy,” Airmail replied with a roll of her eyes. “Your pace is spelled with a capital letter ‘R’.”

“Aaah,” Wildfire giggled behind her hoof. She’d known before lead editor had spoken that she was approaching, thanks to her headset alerting her to the proximity of Point Two, as well as the collision warning she was getting. “Airy's joined the cool kids again, Stormy. Are the colts having private time?”

Airmail giggled and gently caressed Wildfire’s left flank with her outstretched wingtip. “Just letting the stallions have their kissy time.”

“D'aww…that's sweet!” Wildfire let out the very filly-like squee. “Are they definitely going for a foal then, Airy?”

“Yes,” Airmail replied definitely, “It’s just a question of when, rather than if, now.”

Happily, Wildfire clapped her forehooves together. “Oh, that’s so awesomes!”

Tempest flew a little closer to Wildfire and stroked her left wing lovingly over her cheek and her ear. “Even if they’re parents before you?” she asked carefully, for she knew how much being a mother meant to the little blind mare, and she didn’t want anything to mar what was a happy time for the couple behind them.

“Hey,” Wildfire retorted quickly, “nopony said it was a race did they?”

“For Dusky,” Airmail spoke up, following a quick series of ear flicks between herself and Tempest, “I think everything is a race.”

“That’s only because he wins most of the time!” Wildfire laughed easily. In truth she was made up for her best friend. Yes it was her almost lifelong dream to have a filly, many, many fillies, but like Tempest had said, there were plenty of loveless foals out there who deserved good parents. She was more than sure Dusky and Brush Stroke were more than good.

“Let’s move it,” Airmail declared loudly as she flapped her wings and speeding up, “I'd like to get there in time for dinner.”

“Alrighty, Pretty!” Flapping her own wings harder, Wildfire put on a spurt of acceleration and Tempest laughed as she flew lazy circles around the two of her marefriends. Listening to the reports from her headset, the blind mare giggled at Point One’s antics. “Stormy's showing off, isn't she?”

“Never mind her,” Airmail shot back, maintaining her straight and level flight path. “Conserve you breath and fly.” At that, Wildfire nodded her head and determinedly pushed herself a little harder, flying faster still. Airmail too pushed herself - and Wildfire – all the way up to ninety miles per hour for fifteen minutes before dropping back down to a manageable sixty.

“Oh wow...” Wildfire, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, panted as she slowed to the comfortable speed of sixty miles per hour, “that was fast!”

Sailing in behind the two slower mares, Tempest playfully nipped at both their tails. “How are you doing, Wily?”

“A…A little out of breath...but, I-I'm fine!” Came the slightly gasping reply, in no way helped by having her tail nipped with no warning.

“Okay,” Tempest said as she moved up alongside the blind mare’s right side, “we can do a bit of lunch at our next stop, but eat lightly.”

Airmail snickered, “Celery is light!”

“I’d rather eat one of Stormy's yellow clouds!” Wildfire spat back immediately, and right then, Tempest and Airmail had a very hard time flying since they were both laughing so hard. Wildfire giggled and flew up to eighty miles per hour for a moment or two while the other two mares made sure they kept her in sight, but they didn’t speed up. Noticing this, Wildfire slowed back down to sixty with a noticeable wobble of her left wing. “Oops!” At once, her wingmares were by her side and slowed down with her. “I'm fine!” She squeaked, “I just went...too fast…”

“It's cool, Wily…” Tempest said kindly as she and Airmail both matched their speed and flew a few inches away from the struggling mare.

“Actually,” Wildfire interrupted the violet weather pony just as her left wing wobbled again, “maybe a break would be nice.”

That made Airmail’s mind up for her. “Lunch time,” she stated with a tone that screamed, ‘We’re landing. Now.’ To Tempest she flicked her ears and said, “Please let the stallions know, Stormy. There looks like there’s a small town about fifteen miles ahead of us.”

“I can make that…” Wildfire scanned ahead with her flight headset and the small town that Airmail had pointed out was in fact Dodge Junction. Under her breath, she muttered, “just…”

“Go into glide mode, love,” Airmail said comfortingly as Tempest dropped back to where Dusky was flying with Brush Stroke on his back. “You'll be fine, I'm to your left and a bit below.”

“I gotcha.” Wildfire spread out her wings and flared the primary feathers to maximise their surface area to extend the glide slope. Airmail glided down with her, thinking that a quick, greasy something for lunch at the town’s Hayburger-style place was just what the doctor ordered.

The leisurely glide took thirty minutes to complete, and as the blind mare and her wingpony landed in the rustic backwater town, a few feet away from the Dodge Burger joint, Wildfire sniffed the air. Almost instantly her mouth began to water and she sniffed the air. “Ooh I smell hayburgers!” she exclaimed with a delighted grin.

“Good to know that sense is working well.” Airmail giggled and affectionately nuzzled Wildfire’s cheek. “Fast food for a fast turnaround. That, and I really like hayfries.”

Wildfire giggled and returned the loving nuzzle with one of her own. “Well, Pretty, y'know us blindies, smell is the first thing that goes super powered, next is hearing. After that is sheer awesomeness!” she declared with a shake of her toned hindquarters before the azure blue mare hoofed open the diner’s doors so that the two lovers could enter. When they did, the intense smell of fried food washed over them like an ocean wave.

Up in the air, Tempest saw her two marefriends land at the Dodge Burger joint and she turned her head to the Princess. “Meet you in the town for lunch, Dusky.”

“Shall we land with them, Sir?” Dusky asked his dominant partner as she watched Tempest bank and enter a very steep dive, only to land perfectly on the dirt path street outside the diner.

Brush Stroke nodded his approval of that plan, well more to the point, his rumbling belly approved of the plan. “That’s a good idea love. Land, gently, please.”

Tempest, who had seen Airmail and Wildfire enter the white walled diner, complete with its garish flashing neon sign, spotted the two mares already at a table in the burger joint. A few moments later and Dusky touched down effortlessly beside her a couple of feet away. As Brush Stroke gracefully and carefully got off of his mare’s back, the royal pegasus danced a little on the dirt path when she saw the traces of mud on her hooves.

Blushing a little at the unsightly state of her hooves, thanks to the path they’d landed on, Dusky contented herself with adjusting her charcoal mane and smoothing down her red dress with her wingtips. Looking at his fussing mare, Brush Stroke couldn’t help but chuckle. “Dusky you look lovely, come on, let’s go eat.”

From inside the rustic diner, Airmail saw the group of three ponies and she waved her right forehoof as they entered. “They have great shakes here!”

Several ponies and a griffon that were eating in the diner looked up as the trio entered and Airmail greeted them. None of the diners thought anything out of the ordinary. They just saw two pegasi mares – albeit one ridiculously overdressed for a two-bit place like this - and an earth pony stallion. Quickly, Brush Stroke led Dusky over to the table and bade his Sub sit down. While he and Tempest also sat, Dusky asked, “May I have a vanilla shake, please, Sir?”

“Of course you may.” Brush Stroke smiled warmly at his Pet as he briefly perused the menu. “I believe I'll have one, too.”

Wildfire giggled at her best friend’s submissive display, knowing that if her Mistress were here she’d be doing just the same. “I'll have a chocolate one. Everypony knows chocolate is best!” she declared like it was fact. Which it was.

“I think we’re making good time…” Tempest started as she too looked over the diner’s laminated menu, shooting Dusky and Airmail sideways long looks. “At least for a bunch of slow pokes, right Dusky?”

“We aren't doing too badly Miss Tempest,” Dusky replied with a wide grin as she caught the weather pony’s look, “for a bunch of slowpokes, that is.”

“Hey!” Wildfire exclaimed, almost dropping the menu that she was holding. Thankfully, for a two-bit grease pit, they had braille menus, “We aren't slow, we're sensible, right Airy?” she asked with a pout, seeking support from the older pegasus.

“Wily!” Airmail joined in the pout, making everypony at the table break out in a loud giggle-fit. “Stormy is being a big meanie!”

Wildfire snickered behind her hoof. She was tempted to have a playful dig at her older marefriend, but thoughts of a very sweet bath that she was promised upon their return to their home wandered through her mind. “See, I've got a really sweet bath on the cards so she's allowed to be mean.”

Brush Stroke snorted out a loud belly laugh at Wildfire’s comment, while Dusky simply giggled behind her hoof. “Nice priorities you have there, Wildfire,” the mid blue artist sniggered, while Tempest carefully considered her options and settled on a perfectly formed raspberry as Airmail rolled her eyes and got up to place their milkshake orders.

“Sorry Airy,” Wildfire said ten minutes later when she heard the azure blue mare’s familiar hoof-steps return to their table – she had by now learnt her herd-mate’s patterns. Tempest always led with her left forehoof and walked more on the toes of her hooves like she was always taking off. Airmail however led with her right forehoof, and her weight was more at the back, towards the heel. “You know I can't argue with a sweet bath!”

“Knowing you two,” Airmail shuddered as she set the tray holding the five milkshakes on the table from her back, “it is a bath I don't want to be in.”

Wildfire giggled at that. “I’m sure it will be loads of fun!” She was about to reach for her chocolate shake when her phone beeped loudly, alerting her to a new text message. Retrieving her cell phone, she quickly checked what it was and whom it was from. “Oh!” She beamed, scanning her screen with her hoof. “Raid's just let me know they've left Canterlot.”

“That’s good news,” Tempest commented before taking a long suck of her thick strawberry shake.

“Yuppers,” Wildfire agreed, tucking her phone back in her saddlebag and hollowing her cheeks as she sucked hard at her thick shake. “At her speeds, they should be there in a few hours.”

“I'd say fifteen,” Airmail thought aloud as she sat back down at the table, “plus ticket stops.”

“She did say they expect to arrive early tomorrow morning.”

“Pardon me, Miss Wily,” Dusky spoke up from her spot at the table having taken a delicate little sip of her vanilla shake. She had to admit she rather liked it here, the anonymity was quite refreshing. “But, would they not be quicker going to Manehatten on the train?”

Wildfire cocked her head and considered that for a moment. “I'm sure they would D…usky, but there's no way Raid would ever leave her car behind.” Of this she was absolutely sure, if she knew her ex-marefriend at all, and she rather fancied that she knew Air Raid better than most.

Airmail smiled and attacked her shake once more. “She should be fine with Darkie as her co-pilot.”

“Speaking of Darkie, Dusky,” Tempest spoke up when a thought occurred to her suddenly, “did Luna fill you in on the healing?”

Dusky nodded briefly. “My mom gave me the very basic details Miss Tempest, she was rather straight to business on the phone. I assume it went well?”

“Not being a unicorn, I believe so,” Tempest stated with certainty, “She can at least control her magic again, though her magic is weaker than it was before.”

Airmail burst out laughing as she recalled the white unicorn had muffled her hooves and her scent, “Enough to silence me so I could sneak up on Wily.”

“Yuppers!” Wildfire stuck out her tongue and raspberried her azure blue lover. “Twice!”

Brush stroke let out a delighted chuckle then, just as the earth pony waitress carried over a large tray of hayburgers, hayfries, onion rings, breaded garlic mushrooms and milkshake refills over to their table on her back. “Airmail, that's awful!” The grin on his face however belied his criticism.

As his Master set out a burger and fries for her to eat, Dusky giggled brightly. “Oh, that old trick…” she snickered, remembering all the times that she’d been the victim of Darkstar’s illusions. Of course they all got her back at some point, that was the game. “We got in so much trouble with that spell.”

Airmail took a small messy bite out of her hayburger and chewed it thoughtfully. “I also gave Requiem a heads up to let her know she has a new client coming.”

Dusky chewed and swallowed a small mouthful of her fries that Brush Stroke had set aside for her. She really liked Requiem, a lot. “That was very kind of you, Miss Airmail.”

Wildfire nodded, grease from the onion ring on her muzzle, “it was a pretty awesome thing to do, Airy.”

Airmail shrugged her shoulders and decided to attack her refilled milkshake. “Requiem is always looking for interesting clients and at least the state is covering this one.”

Dusky cocked her head and thought about that for a moment. “Ms. Requiem is a lovely pony to chat to.”

“So Oils,” Wildfire started, changing the subject somewhat with swallow of a mouthful of hayburger, “did you have your chat about foals?”

“Oh yes, Wildfire,” Brush Stroke grinned, momentarily distracted from his garlic mushrooms. “We're definitely going to adopt…” the earth pony stallion nodded to the violet weather mare, who currently wore a blush on her cheeks, “thanks to you, Tempest.”

Quickly, Tempest’s impish side squashed her blush in an instant. “Dusky, is there any particular percussion instrument you think your foal would like best?”

Dusky looked up from her burger and swallowed nervously. “The ah…the triangle, I hope, Miss Tempest.”

“Oh come now love,” Brush Stroke laid his hoof on his mare’s and squeezed gently, adding a reassuring nuzzle for good measure. “Our colt would simply love the drums!”

Tempest laughed out loud at that, picturing the scene in her head; four in the morning, some Saturday or Sunday, the house in Ponyville dead quiet, then all of a sudden a ferocious drum solo shakes the foundations…better still, she could see Celestia foal sitting and the same scenario blasting the Princess out of bed. “Since you and your mom love strings so much, maybe a hammered dulcimer?”

“Um...no, Miss Tempest…” Dusky did think about that for just a minute, the percussion and stringed instrument with its strings typically stretched over a trapezoidal sounding board, the player holding a small spoon shaped mallet hammer in each hoof to strike the strings, and she shuddered. “I'm really sure he'd love the triangle.”

Wildfire couldn’t help but snigger once she’d safely swallowed her shake. “You know you aren't getting a triangle, D!”

Airmail, who had been quiet while she stuffed hayfries and onion rings in her muzzle, said; “He may take after Oils though, so I think hoof paints are in order.” She smiled, thinking of those beautiful clean white clean walls that were pristine white, but may not stay that way for very much longer.

Dusky grinned over at her best friend. “I believe Miss Wily is the hoof painting expert, Miss Airmail.”

Airmail and Tempest both laughed at that, the former almost spitting her fresh mouthful of fries while Wildfire simply giggled. “Yuppers, I’m a proper little artist, me.”

When Brush Stroke gave his Pet a questioning look, Dusky quickly swallowed the onion ring she had been working on and explained, “Do you remember the makeover they gave me that Thursday before we met, Sir?”

“Willy bent the rules so far I'm surprised they didn't break…” Airmail said, giving her little marefriend a playful lick up her left ear.

Dusky had to agree with that. “You did fly pretty close to the wire, Miss Wily.”

Sucking up some more of her thick chocolate shake, Wildfire giggled. “Live dangerously, that's me.”

Tempest satisfied herself with a shake of her head at what she perceived to be a lost cause. Munching a couple of mouthfuls of her hayburger, she thought for a moment about Brush Stroke. “Have you found the landscapes of Ponyville to your liking, Oils?” she asked curiously, wanting to know a little bit more about the artist.

“Oh, you have no idea!” Brush Stroke enthused. He set his shake down as he spoke about the suburban town and surrounding scenery, “Ponyville is gorgeous, it’s just beautiful. So, so different to Manehatten!”

“If I may?” Dusky asked submissively and, when his partner nodded, he continued. “Miss Tempest, you should see the studio on the second floor, his paintings are quite lovely.”

Tempest nodded, making a mental note to do just that. “I shall make a point of that on our next visit to the area, Dusky.”

Brush Stroke smiled proudly. “Why thank you, Tempest.”

Dusky beamed. “Sir does like to show off.”

Wildfire cocked her head to the one side, apparently deep in thought while she chewed the rest of her burger. “It’s a shame you can't paint something I can like.”

Airmail giggled as she too ate the rest of her own burger. “He could always paint you,” she said slyly.

“You what?” Wildfire spluttered, caught momentarily off guard by that comment.

“Oooh…” Brush Stroke gave that a lot of thought just then, setting aside the rest of his shake as he mulled that over, running through the possibilities. “Oh I say, a landscape painted on a pony...” already he was seeing what could be done, the displays he could do, the shows he could put on. “What's she like at standing still, Airy?”

“She can stand very still,” Airmail giggled as she licked Wildfire’s ears, giggling harder when she flinched. “It is quite funny when she does.”

“Oh,” Brush Stroke asked with a grin all over his mid blue muzzle as he sensed a bit of gossip, “how so?”

“Wait…hang on!” Wildfire spluttered, disbelieving what she was hearing, as several of the other diners looked their way at the exclamation, “you aren't actually considering it?”

Tempest shrugged and simply nipped at the little blind mare’s right ear, “Well, it was your idea, Wily…”

“I um, I ah, I just meant a canvas painting that I can touch,” Wildfire blushed heavily, flinching when her ears were nipped and licked, “Y’know…with textures and stuff, not actually painting on me!”

“Hmm...” Brush Stroke thought about that. Now that the artist pondered the suggestion, it did make a great deal more sense than actually painting on her body. And, he had read in the painting community’s online journals where just this sort of thing had been used in certain special schools to help foals born with severe learning disabilities. “Hmm, I don't see why I couldn't, Wildfire.”

Wildfire’s face lit up, “Really?”

“Well, yes,” Brush Stroke continued as Dusky, Airmail and Tempest all shared delighted smiling looks between themselves at the shift in the little blind mare’s mood. “It shouldn't be too different from how I paint now, I can use textured paints and techniques that will let you feel what I paint.”

As Dusky gave his dominant partner a very tight hug indeed, Tempest finished the last of her garlic mushrooms and onion rings. “The painting of yours at the building I work at is quite nice, Oils.” The violet pony said as she washed her food down with her strawberry shake.

“Would that be the one of the Manehatten skyline?” Brush Stroke asked, as he knew where Tempest worked.

“Yes, in the lobby of City Hall.”

“Oh, I remember that one!” Brush Stroke smiled nostalgically as he and the rest of the table finished off the last of their respective meals, his mind’s eye conjuring up an image of the oil painting that Tempest was talking about. “Everypony always wants prints of that one.”

“Are we getting on?” Wildfire asked as she slurped up the dregs of her chocolate milkshake and, bidden by her Master, Dusky took the waste over to the trash can in the diner. “Only, Airy and her belly wanted to get there before dinner.”

“I'm ready to fly,” Airmail said, playfully swatting at Wildfire’s ear with her wingtip, “Just no swimming for two hours.”

“I'm ready,” Brush Stroke stated, standing up from the table. “Dusky?”

Dusky nodded as she approached her lover, her head slightly bowed respectfully. “Sir, if I may, can Miss Tempest and I fly a little faster, please?”

At first, Brush Stroke was going to say ‘no, not at all’, but seeing the pleading look on his mare’s face changed his mind almost instantly. He knew his Dusky liked to fly fast, and she had been a very well behaved little Pet for him. She deserved to stretch her wings once in awhile. His mind made up, the dominant stallion nodded. “I don't mind, my love, as long as I can ride elsewhere…”

Wildfire raised up her hoof. She knew how much her best friend wanted this, so she volunteered. “I'll give you a lift, Oils.”

Airmail smiled as she led the way to the door and hoofed it open for the group to leave. “You will treat Oils like you did Octavia's cello.”

Following the scent of her lover’s tail, as well as the familiar sound of her hooves, Wildfire left the little rustic diner and stood on the dirt path that was the main road through Dodge City in the warm late morning sun. “Of course I will, Pretty. I'll be real careful, Oils.”

Dusky just could not believe that. Not. At. All. She was so amazed to hear that somepony else had carried her mother’s instrument that she quite forgot about the mud on her hooves. “Aah…please forgive me Sir, but Miss Wily, you carried my mum's cello?”

“She did!” Tempest declared with pride as she stretched her legs and her wings in the warmth of the sun. “From the Coffee Bar to Caffy's house while Luna carried Octavia. I even had Wily fly through the wires on the Narrows Bridge while she was carrying it.”

Airmail snorted out a laugh at the memory of the Open Mic Night at Caffeinated’s shop. “Did Octavia ever make a sound on that!” She was aware that ‘sound’ was putting it lightly. As she recalled, Octavia was having a proper royal strop about it at the time.

Still, Dusky was stunned, as her open mouth attested to. “I'm amazed she allowed anypony else to carry it, I remember I was soundly spanked once for just touching it.”

Airmail calmed down from her laughter. “Mapper had a lot to do in the execution of that, though.”

“And Luna painted the cello bright candy pink with a couple of green lightning bolts too!” Tempest couldn’t help but put that little nugget in the conversation too.

“With magic,” Airmail clarified, “but it was rather cool looking.”

Despite the unsightly mud covering her forehoof, Dusky raised it and giggled. “I'm surprised my mum didn't die of shock!” After she finished giggling, she wiped the tear from her pink eyes with the back of her foreleg. “You know, I'm not surprised mom likes Ms. Mapper so much.”

Brush Stroke took his lover in his forelegs and passionately kissed her lips, an act that earned him a loud disapproving ‘tut’ from an elderly mare who walked past them. “I don't mind riding with Wildfire while you indulge yourself…” he kissed his mare a second time, not caring in the slightest of the disapproving looks from the natives, “As long as you are careful and come back to me.”

“If this is just to stretch our wings, then it should be a lot of fun,” Tempest said as she stretched her own powerful wings wide, flaring her feathers in preparation for high speed flight. “But if this is to see who is the fastest pony, then you win, Princess.”

Likewise, Dusky also stretched and prepped her wings and her flight muscles for the strain she was about to put on them. “No racing Miss Tempest, I promise.”

“I have no trouble with racing,” Tempest replied with a giggle, “then again, I have no trouble with losing either.”

With a last stretch and flex, Dusky giggled, “I just want to play.”

Smiling, Tempest gave Airmail and Wildfire each an affectionate nuzzle and a kiss. “I'll give Wily a call when we’re ready to get back with you three.” After getting a kiss back from both of her lovers, the violet weather pony stepped aside and, spreading her wings wide, she crouched in the dirt path. “Okay Dusky, let's start by playing up!” All at once, with a strong flap of her powerful wings, Tempest took off straight upwards and kept on climbing.

Quickly, Dusky gave her stallion a loving kiss. “Sir, thank you Sir, I’ll be careful, Sir!” Without so much as a crouch – for fear of getting dirt on her red dress - she took off vertically, almost instantly catching up with the violet speck already high above her.

“Well Oils,” Airmail said to the mid blue earth pony stallion after a couple of seconds, when the two fliers had diminished into indistinguishable specks in the sky, “if you're ready to go the Wily Taxi service is available.”

Brush Stroke, who had been like Airmail, scanning the sky to watch his lover zoom up into the wide clear blue sky, turned to the lead editor and nodded. “I'm quite ready Airy thank you, and thank you too, Wildfire.”

“Wily, please.” The diminutive yellow mare corrected him kindly, affording him the privilege of her nick name.

“Alright, Wily…” Brush Stroke replied as he very carefully climbed up onto Wildfire's back and, wrapping his forelegs around her neck, nodded grimly like he was being led to the gallows. “I, ah, I'm ready, girls.”

Airmail smiled and shook her head at what she perceived was the artist’s foolishness. She determined that she was going to closely monitor Wildfire while she was in flight, even more closely than when she was flying by herself. “You set the pace Wildfire,” she said, stroking her lover’s flank with her wingtip, “let’s climb to a thousand feet.” She resolved to be ready to take the earth pony if things might look bad.

“I gotcha Pretty,” activating her headset and once more setting it to Trottingham, and requesting the direction and distance as well as requesting them be on constant report, Wildfire spread her yellow wings wide and launched herself into the sky. As she climbed up to one thousand feet, she was reminded heavily of the time at the fun fair that she had carried Air Raid up to the cloud. When her altimeter read one thousand feet, she levelled off and grinned, “I gotta say Oils, you're certainly heavier than a cello.”

“Did you just call Oils fat?” Airmail asked with a smile from her covering position to the left, behind and slightly above her blind lover as she reached the one thousand feet flight level. “Or just an earth pony?”

“Umm, n-no...” Wildfire flinched, shivering badly at what the older pegasus had said. “I’m sorry!” She squeaked timidly and, while she could guess that her marefriend was playing, it was the sudden nature of the question that set her off. “I didn't mean anything by it Oils, honest I didn’t!”

Brush Stroke chuckled good naturedly, “Oh, don't worry about it Wily, no offense taken I assure you.”

Airmail giggled, though she immediately caught the shudder from the young mare and flew up alongside her just long enough to caress her flank before falling back. “Just teasing you, Wily.”

At that, Wildfire blushed profusely and after a few moments she stopped shuddering and began to fly normally, maintaining a very steady and manageable fifty miles per hour towards the south eastern Trottingham. “Huh…I fall for that every time!” She grimaced, silently kicking herself.

“Are you cold, Wily?” Brush Stroke asked, giggling a little at Airmail’s little trap.

“No, why?”

“You were shivering…”

“You’ll have to forgive her that,” Airmail spoke up loudly to make sure she was heard. She had to admit she felt a little poor for doing that, though she was sure by now that the blind pony could’ve taken the joke as it was intended. “The thought of being in trouble can give her the feeling of impending severe punishment,” she explained for the stallion’s benefit, “and not the fun kind of punishment either.”

Brush Stroke, as a Dominant of many years’ experience, was stunned to hear this. “Is this true?” he asked gently into Wildfire’s ear, and to his great dismay she answered with a nod and a beet red blush that he could feel as well as see. “Then please forgive me, Wily, I really had no idea.”

“The fault isn't yours, Oils,” Airmail interjected quickly. No, if the fault was anypony’s it was that thrice damned bitch Amethyst Glory’s. But, she should’ve known better too. “You see, I triggered it with my teasing, but Wily is the one that needs to overcome her past fears with her present realities.”

Wildfire smiled shakily as she flew straight and true to Trottingham. She could feel – thankfully – her blush diminishing to a dull heat in her cheeks. “Well, I'm getting there with it, my Airy does like her teasing though, right Pretty?”

Airmail snorted loudly, “As if you don't like doing the same, my love.”

“What,” Wildfire asked, a little of her former good humour returning to her, “little old me? When do I ever tease?”

“I’m sorry, I lost count.” Airmail snickered, maintaining her three feet of separation in the clear blue perfect sky, “But I assure you she is a tease in the bedroom, Oils.”

Wildfire shrugged her shoulders and giggled as her earth pony passenger gripped her neck a little tighter. “Guilty as charged.”

“You sound just like my Dusky,” Brush Stroke commented with a nervous smile when he realised he wasn’t going to get thrown from the blind mare’s back. Airmail’s earlier warning of rogue griffons was still in the back of his mind though. “She's a dreadful tease too.”

“I think that is where Wily learned it from!” Airmail called, although she was watching her lover’s progress, every now and then she found her brown eyes wandering down to her black tail, and the treasures that lay underneath it.

“Airy,” she called over her shoulder, “I’ll have you know, I had many excellent teachers.” As she said that a thought occurred to her, something similar to what she had discussed with Tempest earlier when they had flown around the Everfree Forest. “Hey…speaking of D, how'd you ever get him in a dress?”

Over his shoulder, Brush Stroke shot Airmail a puzzled look, but he just got a shrug in reply. Instead he asked, “Whatever do you mean, Wily?”

“Um…well...” Wildfire considered that for just a moment, though she did have to correct her flight again as she found she was starting to drift to the left again. It was definitely her, though it wasn’t a huge correction, she didn’t worry about it. “He's never done anything like that before, that's all, and it just came as a surprise.”

A sudden flash of inspiration later and Airmail thought she knew just how to deal with this. Not that she couldn’t understand Wildfire’s confusion. She could, indeed, just the other week she and Tempest would never have called themselves Doms either. “Wily, have you ever asked Stormy why she likes to dress as a stallion?”

“No, I haven't, now that I think about it, I just assumed she liked it.” Wildfire replied with a shake of her head.

Airmail smiled a broad smile. That was what she’d thought. “And what makes you think Dusky doesn't like it?”

“I don't know...” Wildfire flustered a little when she answered. She could see what her marefriend was getting at, and it made a great deal of sense. Still, this was Dusky. “It’s just weird, y'know? He - She's my best friend but I never knew this side of him, I mean her, before.”

“You didn't know Vocal Chord, the singer did you?” Airmail asked, ever so slightly changing the subject.

Wildfire gave that a tiny bit of thought. She knew Vocal, a little bit, but Dusky hadn’t been with him long before her accident in the science lab. As a result of that she didn’t really ‘know’ him as it were. “Um…no, not really, but with him Dusk was always the dominant pony back then as I recall.”

“Yes…my Dusky has spoken of his ex,” Brush Stroke commented almost absent mindedly. He was quite ambivalent towards the singer that had been with his mare. On the one hoof he hated him for the rather callous way he had dumped his Dusky over the phone. On the other however he was glad he had, because now he was with him…so, ‘Six of one, half a dozen of the other,’ as his dad was fond of saying.

“It sounds like some good after dinner conversation,” Airmail said with a smile, flying a teeny bit below Wildfire now to get a better view of her teats. To keep an eye on her flying, of course. And her teats.

“I must say Airy, Wily,” Brush Stroke started, feeling so comfortable with his ride that he actually sat up straight on the little mare’s back, “that since I've known him, my Dusky hasn't shown any dominant tendencies at all. In fact, he loved it the first time I called him, my little mare.”

Just then, as she was about to reply to that, about how in a similar vein she wasn’t considered a Dom either until she met Wildfire, Airmail’s train of thought was derailed somewhat when she thought she saw a pronounced wobble in the little yellow mare’s flight. “How are your wings doing, Wily?” she asked immediately, going from teat ogling to alert in an instant.

“Oh, they’re not bad,” Wildfire answered quickly. But for being a little bit out of breath – which she put down to carrying her passenger – and making the course corrections, she was fine. “I'm good for now,” she added with a slight pant and a gasp to fill her lungs.

Airmail shook her head. Obviously she had imagined the wobble, but in her defence she had been teat watching, not Wildfire watching. “We can always land and switch taxies,” she offered, all the time wishing her lover would move her hind legs just a touch, to give her a better view. She flew through a little cloudlet, hoping the moisture would act like a cold shower. “Oils, are you an only foal?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“I can do it,” Wildfire said in a very determined voice. “I got this, Pretty!”

“That’s a good question Airy,” Brush Stroke replied, having to cast his mind a very long way back now that the thirty-two year old artist thought about it. “To be honest I don't really know. I don't remember the Trottingham Orphanage much, and I certainly don’t remember my birth parents. My two dads only adopted me. How about you?”

Airmail giggled as she flew a little closer to better allow conversation. “That is what I meant; if your dads adopted more than one foal.” Then again, she supposed her question had been a little vague. “I was the only foal of my birth parents, and of my adopted parents since they thought they couldn't have any…” she trailed off and laughed. “I must have been magic as they had four after adopting me.”

Laughing out loud, Brush Stroke replied, “I think I put my parents off from adopting anymore.” The mid blue earth pony went a little quiet as reflected on his childhood. He’d been, in Starbright’s own words, a ‘right little shit’ growing up in Trottingham with the two stallions.

“I enjoyed having younger siblings,” Airmail said with a smile, “even if it did develop one of my biggest fetishes.”

“Oh?” Now Brush Stroke was interested.

“Y-Yuppers…” Wildfire panted, working hard now to catch her breath, “A-Airy likes...breast...milk…”

Noticing her lover beginning to struggle a little, Airmail resolved to give her just another half an hour before landing and taking a little break. “After my mom got pregnant she found out she was a natural milkmare,” the azure blue mare explained with a hazy faraway look on her eyes.

“Ah, I see now…” Brush Stroke smiled, “That’s actually really cool. Dandelion is my 'mum' I suppose would be the correct term. Compared to Starbright he's rather effeminate, and I suppose my dad helped create my fetish too. Being ex-military, I had to be assertive in the household to get noticed.”

Scanning the ground ahead of them, Airmail looked for a park or rest area for them to land in as they flew onwards. “My purpose in the military was to 'not' be noticed.”

“Aah, just like...like a pony I know.” Brush Stroke blushed a bright red, catching himself just in time from almost dropping Dusky’s name then and there.

They flew on for another twenty minutes in relative comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company in the crystal clear blue sky until Wildfire wobbled a little but she quickly recovered and flew a little bit lower. “Ah…actually Pretty, landing about now would be really good.”

“I agree,” Airmail commented, as ever scanning the ground for a suitable landing spot. As luck would have it, roughly three-quarters of a mile away she spied a park with large trees overhanging a very picturesque looking lake. More importantly there were public toilets. “That grease bomb went right through me!”

“You see?” Wildfire started, setting her flight headset for a three-quarter mile descent from her current altitude to the ground, “I know...my limits!”

Airmail smiled a mother hen-like smile that Tempest would’ve been impressed with. “I’m proud of you, love.”

“I only need to be taught a lesson once…” Wildfire panted with a giggle as she began her gliding descent, “well, unless it’s math, anyway.”

Realisation dawned on the mid blue artist then, as he saw the ground start to come up towards them at a steady pace. “I take it your wings aren't as strong as they could be, Wily?”

“You’re right,” Airmail said with a smile in her voice, “and you my good sir have now been added to her training program.”

Brush Stroke chuckled at that. “I'm glad my vast weight is being used for something constructive.”

“You are a performance enhancement drug,” Airmail giggled. “Wily, the park is now at your two O'clock position about half a mile away,” she advised, guessing correctly that the park would be too small a location to be already on her headset like the bigger towns and cities.

“I gotcha Pretty.” Wildfire angled her wings and started the bank to her right and she started the glide, following her headset to the ground.

“Pretty?” Brush Stroke asked curiously.

Airmail giggled as she descended on the same glideslope as her blind marefriend. “It’s my nickname for the oldenpony over there,” Wildfire snickered as her headset told her she was a hundred feet above the ground and getting lower. “When we first met she let me feel her face and the first thing that came to my mind was 'pretty'.”

“Sadly,” Airmail lamented with a forehoof to her forehead, “I'm not as sweet as honey.”

“That's Tempest, I assume?”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire replied to her passenger before she flared her wings at ten feet and landed very gently indeed on the lush green grass of the park. “For the same reasons as Pretty.”

“What’s your pet name for Serenity?” Airmail asked, landing on the grass next to the wide lake and the much needed public toilets. Idly, she wondered just where they were, but she didn’t suppose it mattered all that much; they wouldn’t be here all that long.

Wildfire blushed a faint red tinge on her cheeks as she pawed the ground a little with her forehoof. “Um…Beauty…”

Airmail tucked away her wings and was halfway over to the toilet block when a thought crossed her mind. “Do you need a Wildfire pet name, Oils?”

“Everypony else seems to have one,” Brush Stroke grinned as he got off of his taxi’s back and sighed, feeling the lovely, fantastic amazing ground under his hooves. “I suppose it would be nice to be in the club.”

“Wily can think about it while I use the commode.” Airmail giggled, shutting the toilet door behind her with a bit of a firm slam.

Wildfire stretched her wings, stretching her flight muscles and then she folded away her wings before sniffing and getting a feel of the park, whatever it was, where they were resting. “Did you enjoy the flight, Oils?” she asked, shaking her black mane straight.

“I did,” Brush Stroke replied, giving the diminutive yellow pegasus a friendly nuzzle of thanks. In spite of his rather acute acrophobia, he had to admit the flight thus far from Ponyville to wherever they were, southeast of Dodge City, had been pleasant enough. “Although I think I prefer Dusky as a mount, no offense.”

“Hey,” Wildfire snickered behind her hoof, “you mount him however you like,” she said with a giggle. “That’s your business for you two lovebirds.” After that, she gave a serious thought to what she could name her new friend. Minutes later, when Airmail emerged from the toilet, she had the very thing. “I know, Oils, I shall call you Holly."

Airmail raised her eyebrow at that. Pretty, Honey and Beauty she could well understand. This one however was quite beyond her, no matter how hard she tried. “Um…Wily, why Holly?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wildfire giggled, and when no comment was forthcoming from either Airmail or Brush Stroke, she explained, “Cos he ain't heavy!” Airmail rolled her eyes and facehooved at that, while the earth pony stallion burst out laughing, finally getting what the little mare meant.

~ ~ ~

While Airmail, Wildfire and Brush Stroke had continued to make their way southeast, Tempest and Dusky had played pegasi tag in the sky high above the Dodge City Hayburger joint. Thirty thousand feet above it, to be exact. Together they barrel rolled, climbed and swooped, corkscrewed and pirouetted in the clear blue sky.

After twenty minutes of this play, after Tempest had performed a very complex corkscrew backflip to tag Dusky’s hind leg for the seventh time, the royal pegasus came to a hover next to his playmate, an excited idea running through her mind that she just knew the weather pony would love. “Well played, Miss Tempest.” Dusky bowed her head graciously to the winner of their game. “Now we’ve played, would you like a fast ride?”

“Sure!” Tempest exclaimed joyously, only too happy fully stretch her wings up to her full two hundred and fifty miles per hour top speed. “Are you going to do a rainboom?” she asked, eager to actually see one happen with her own eyes in the flesh as it were.

“Well,” Dusky replied with a very wide grin, “Sir did say I could indulge myself, if you'd like to, Miss Tempest?”

“I can't do it on my own,” Tempest admitted honestly, but an idea did occur to her; maybe instead of just watching, all her Hearths Warmings could come at once and just maybe, maybe, she could experience it first-hoof. “But, I'd be happy to hitch a ride?” she asked hopefully.

Dusky saw the very, very excited and eager look on his friend’s face and she couldn’t refuse her. It didn’t even enter her mind. “Miss Tempest, it would be my sincere pleasure.” Without needing any further prompting, the violet weather pony hovered over and in a very precise manoeuvre she settled on Dusky’s back, settling in and gripping with her hind legs. “Are you ready, Miss Tempest?” she asked when she felt her passenger grip her flanks.

Tempest leant forward and in Dusky’s ear she whispered, “Oh yeah.”

“Miss Tempest,” Dusky said seriously, in a no-nonsense tone that was out of character for the usually submissive pegasus, “you must tap my flank twice when you want me to stop, alright?” he said, as at the speed of sound, there would be no possibility of verbal communication.

“Would falling off be another signal?” Tempest asked with a giggle, completely at odds with the serious tone of the pegasus underneath her.

Deciding there wasn’t any need for any further warnings, Dusky laughed. She knew of Tempest’s ability, and proclivity for speed. “Yes, I rather suppose it would, but I'd rather you didn't, Oils thinks I'm safe!”

“And how many rainbooms have you done with Oils on your back?” Tempest asked, showing at least a little caution.

“None so far, Miss Tempest,” Dusky admitted, still hovering in place easily, “but I have done several now without hitting anything.”

“And…how many have you done with anypony on your back?”

“Three.” Dusky stated definitely. He could remember perfectly each and every one too, and each was memorable in their own right. “And those ponies are alive and ‘mostly’ well.”

Tempest grinned a very wide, excited grin. Very, very excited. She wanted to do this before she lost her nerve and backed out altogether. “So, what are we waiting for, Princess?”

“Hold on tight then, Miss Tempest…” Smiling, the midnight blue pegasus fully extended both of her forelegs out in front of her and angled the toes of her hooves to cut through the air and already after a few flaps of her very powerful wings they had accelerated up through three hundred miles per hour. Along for the ride, Tempest lay low on Dusky’s back to present as little air resistance as possible.

They reached five hundred miles per hour and Tempest watched in awe as they passed twice her top speed. She felt the air around them start to lose pressure. She saw the cone of resistance begin to form a foot in front of Dusky’s forehooves. The violet pony grinned like a maniac as the friction through the air caused static electricity to spark from Dusky’s hooves all along their flanks. She knew they were close. Very close.

With a final quiet prayer to his mom, an ‘I love you’ to his mum and to Brush Stroke, Dusky gave a final push of speed and with an almighty flap of her wings, they ripped through the sound barrier with a loud boom as Dusky took Tempest to supersonic speeds. Heralding their achievement, three concentric midnight blue and charcoal grey rings exploded outwards from them, the same coloured trail streaking in their wake from Dusky’s mane and tail.

At the boom, Airmail looked up from the park where she, Wildfire and Brush Stroke were resting on the grass by the lake. The azure blue mare smiled at the dark blue streak cut across the sky. “Have you taken that ride yet, Oils?” she asked with a wry smile.

Brush Stroke looked up, he saw the streak of light that was his mare vanishing into the distance and he shuddered. “Oh…oh no, no ooooh no…his mother has, Octavia is rather taken with speed you know,” the artist answered, his innate fear making him feel ill, even on the ground. “I um…well, I'd like to...it’s not that I don't trust him, it's just, well I'm...”

“Scared to death, Holly?” Wildfire asked with a smile from her position in the middle of the other two ponies.

Twiddling his forehooves over each other, Brush Stroke found himself studying the grass underneath him rather intently as he admitted, “Yes, yes I am, Wily.”

That was a step too far for Airmail’s liking right there. “Wily?” she said in a very firm tone, “You can get away with teasing me and Stormy, but don't you stretch a privilege.”

“Oh…oh I-I’m s-sorry Oils,” Wildfire shrunk into the warm green grass, her ears slicking straight back to her scalp and her tail flicking down between her hind legs. “I-I really didn't mean to tease you,” she whimpered with her forehooves now over her muzzle. She knew she’d really messed up. “I d-didn't think, I apologise…”

“That's quite alright, Wildfire.” Brush Stroke gave the quivering blind mare a friendly nuzzle and he nodded over to Airmail with a thankful smile, “Thank you for that, Airmail.”

“No problem,” Airmail replied calmly. She really didn’t want to reign in and discipline her diminutive lover, but enough was quite enough and there was a line. In her opinion, she crossed it. “It is nice to know that you have a fast way out if you really need one. You remember Requiem, the earth pony mare?”

Quietly, saying nothing at the nuzzle she received, Wildfire hunkered down even further into the grass. She felt as wretched as she ever had done in the week and a half since her release from the care home. Next to her, on her right side, she felt the earth pony stallion nod. “I do, she was at the open mic night for a while, as I recall.”

Seeing Wildfire’s somewhat extreme reaction, Airmail scooted a little closer to her marefriend and gently she draped her right wing over her back and she gave her a loving nuzzle. “You apologised love, so it’s all good.” She felt a little bad, but the young mare needed telling. She was just grateful it was her telling her and not Tempest. “Her hobby is free falling from twenty thousand feet or higher with no chute or spells,” she explained to the mid blue artist.

“I…I know Pretty,” Wildfire hesitantly returned the nuzzle. “I um…I just felt like sitting down, out the way.”

Brush Stroke gave the older pegasus a very nervous chuckle. “Wow, that is some hobby.”

“Yes,” Airmail commented, tightening her grip on Wildfire’s back with her wing. “Someponies live for the thrill of it.”

Like Airmail, Brush Stroke scooted closer to Wildfire’s right side but in place of a wing he draped his foreleg around her shoulders. He couldn’t help feel a little bad for her. “Please don't cry, Wildfire.”

“I’m not,” Wildfire muttered with a very sad little giggle, “'m not, because I can’t. I'm fine…”

“This is Wily's brave face,” Airmail said as she placed a tender, delicate kiss on Wildfire’s left cheek in an effort to lift her lover’s spirits.

“I’m sorry Oils,” Wildfire muttered miserably, tentatively returning the kiss to Airmail’s lips. “Sometimes I say and do stuff without thinking, I don't know why and I know I shouldn't.”

“It’s alright, Wily, I promise,” Brush Stroke said as he too tightened his hug he had around the little mare’s shoulders. His heart really went out to her. “You really can't cry?”

“Nopes…” Wildfire shook her head sadly.

“The acid completely destroyed the eye sockets when it was thrown in her face, including the optic nerves and the tear ducts,” Airmail explained. “You have to know her to tell when she is crying on the inside.”

“I'm sorry, Wildfire.” Brush Stroke again nuzzled the diminutive mare’s cheek, feeling that if he ever had a sister, this is what he’d feel like. “But please cheer up, you didn't offend me, Wily. We all do silly things without thinking.”

“O-Okay…” Wildfire said quietly, a shaky smile on her face as she stood up to equally shaky hooves.

Airmail gave her lover another nuzzle as she too stood up and took a last look at the admittedly beautiful lake. She resolved when she had the chance to find out exactly where this place was and what it was called. “My turn to play taxi ‘till I get tired, then Dusky can take over,” she announced with a flutter of her wings.

“Alright, Airy,” Brush Stroke smiled and stepped up to the lead editor, “I promise I'm not as heavy as I'm made out to be…”

“You aren't!” Wildfire interrupted him and, without waiting for a reply, she launched herself into the early afternoon sky. As she lifted off, she once more set her headset for Trottingham.

“Still, you earth ponies are pretty solid lot.” Airmail and Brush Stroke both shared a laugh at that and she waited until the mid blue artist had a good firm hold around her flanks before she too took off, at a far more sedate pace than Wildfire who was silently flying ahead of her, already at sixty miles per hour.

Brush Stroke watched Wildfire for a few moments before he gave voice to a thought in his head. “I'm no shrink Airy, and do correct me if I'm wrong, but she is a very troubled young mare.”

Somewhat unnecessarily, given the distance between them, Airmail kept her voice low when she replied to her passenger. “I thought I had a troubled life with my parents’ murder-suicide, but her mom died in the line of duty when she was twelve and after she was blinded at nineteen, her father sold her into slavery.”

To say Brush Stroke was stunned would’ve been an understatement. “Dusky's told me bits and pieces, I was reluctant to pry, of course, the whole affair seemed private.”

Airmail could understand and appreciate that, in fact, her levels of respect for Dusky’s coltfriend and Master went up a few levels. “To put it simply,” she started before taking a breath, “imagine spending five years in Tartarus and then being released just two weeks ago.”

“Oh my...” He really hadn’t been expecting that. “I had no idea it was quite that bad.” Now the earth pony felt even more like a big brother to the young mare flying ahead of them. “Forgive me, Airy, but she seems so, well, 'normal' on the surface doesn't she?”

Airmail nodded solemnly. She knew what Brush Stroke meant, and she knew he hadn’t meant any offense by it. “It has been a hard two weeks, but Stormy and I want it to be normal to the core, not just on the surface, at least as much as it ever will be after what she’s been through in the care home.”

“It can't be easy for you two though…”

“When was love ever easy?” Airmail asked with a laugh in her voice.

Brush Stroke shook his head, then he very quickly shoved his yellow and red striped mane away from his green eyes. “Never, Airy. I can assure you of that.” He had a sudden flash of memory of a couple of his past romances both good and bad, “A case in hoof is my dad,” he chuckled, “it’s going to be fun introducing him to my Dusky.”

“We’re all happy that Wily dropped into our lives.” Airmail said with a look of pure love on her face as she watched Wildfire fly ahead of her. “It will of course take more than a couple of weeks to undo years of damage. Not all that different from your dad.”

The earth pony artist pondered that for just a moment. He understood what Airmail meant, about his dad’s feelings towards the royalty – well, Luna, to be exact – following the Changeling invasion all those years ago. “I can tell she'll be fine. We had a similar experience with dad after he left the army. He isn't as bad as he used to be, but he still hates the royals.” He snorted a laugh then, “Of course, Dusky is adamant he doesn't want to downplay who he is later.”

“No good will ever come from hiding or covering up the truth.”

“You know,” Brush Stroke grinned, “that's pretty much what Dusky said after you flew off earlier.” As Airmail was flying slower than Wildfire, the landscape artist took a few moments to appreciate the scenery passing underneath them. Rolling hills, rivers, forests, they even passed an unnamed donkey village. “I'm glad he told me of his royal duties, thank you for helping with that.”

“I've been a killer for a long time,” Airmail stated, taking note of the very picturesque little village far from anywhere as they passed over it, “to the point where I almost forgot the value of life. Now I have another life to love right there, in front of us.”

“She couldn't ask for better, I think.” Brush Stroke smiled warmly, “Now I can understand Dusky not wanting Wildfire to know what he does.”

Airmail nodded, “I'd just as soon Stormy didn't know for sure. ‘ts why I changed the subject while she was carrying you.”

Brush Stroke chuckled, “Another reason I'm pleased he told me, I was worried he was seeing another pony.”

Now Airmail let out a very loud laugh indeed, taken by a genuine fit of mirth. “I think Dusky's mum would kill him if he betrayed somepony.” She could well imagine Octavia’s outrage should her son ever do such a thing.

“Oh, without question she would!” He giggled, imagining the very same thing as the mare giving him a ride. “You can imagine my sense of relief when I found out what he was really doing.”

“That he was seeing other ponies?” Airmail asked with a raised eyebrow. “For the last time, that is?”

“Exactly that,” he replied grimly. “I'm pleased those that hurt Wildfire and her friend were punished for what they did.”

“Ugh…I-I'm not going to be good for much longer,” Airmail grunted as she flew along. She could feel her flight muscles beginning to tire after the thirty minute flight from the park to where they were now. “Last time I had a passenger was for search and rescue in Vanhoover.”

“Understood Airy, perhaps another landing would be prudent?” Brush Stroke suggested, thankfully as he thought for a moment, he saw another little town hove into view not all that far ahead of them. “The only thing that really concerns me about Dusky's new duties is the bit where he might not return home to me.”

As she felt herself get ever weaker, Airmail called out loudly, “Wily! I'm going to need to land!” To her passenger, she said simply, “That is called life. He does have the best trainer and he doesn't have the stupid bravery I had at his age…” Again, she raised her voice, “I've spotted a burger joint, a Hay-in-a-Bale! I could use an energy restoring shake!”

Ahead of Airmail and Brush Stroke, Wildfire slowed her flight to show she had heard and understood. “As long as it’s a chocolate flavoured shake, I'm there!” she called back over her shoulder.

“I'm sure he'll be fine for a while yet, Airy,” Brush Stroke said confidently, “as you said, he has the best trainer.”

“And he is smarter than me.” Airmail thought aloud as she scanned the upcoming little town. She vaguely remembered it from a previous visit a few years ago with Tempest. “It’s at our twelve! About a quarter of a mile, Wily. Gliding down now!”

“I gotcha Pretty!” Wildfire activated the scanner on her headset and she was rewarded with a place name as the town, like Dodge City, was big enough to be pre-programmed in. She’d never heard of Marezona before, but as she started her gliding descent, she figured she’d find out about it soon enough.

As Airmail descended behind Wildfire, Brush Stroke watched the little blind mare descend also. “I say, she is good isn't she?

Airmail nodded absent mindedly. She could tell from just the sound of her lover’s voice that she was in a much better mood now than when she had took off from the impromptu stop at the park. “She does have some good gear which makes up for her disability.”

“Of course,” the earth pony agreed, “but she has to know how to use it properly otherwise it’s useless, surely?”

“I agree,” Airmail said simply as she glided lower towards the town and to the diner, “but she's no dummy either.” She stated, landing on an actual sidewalk this time instead of Dodge City’s dirt path.

In a much brighter, happier mood, Wildfire asked, “Who's not a dummy?” As she too touched down on the concrete, basking in the early afternoon sunlight.

Airmail giggled and then stepped closer to her little lover, licking her left ear and adding a sharp nip for good measure. “You, sexy.”

“Sexy and awesome!” Wildfire declared, striking a pose as Brush Stroke carefully climbed down from his azure blue mount and felt the smooth sidewalk under his hooves. “And, about to be filled with fries and a shake.”

“Yeah,” Airmail smiled, finding that Marezona was exactly as she’d left it all those years ago. “I can go for that.”

“Holly, as I'm sure Pretty will tell you, I'm astoundingly humble with my amount of awesome.” Wildfire snickered as the three of them got together and decided they would have cheesy fries and shakes.

Brush Stroke giggled as he opened the Hay-In-A-Bale’s door for the ladies to enter ahead of him. “Oh yes, Wily, very humble.” Inside, Airmail snorted a laugh and trotted up to the counter to place their order.

While Airmail went and ordered for them at the remarkably empty diner, Brush Stroke and Wildfire secured a nearby table. “So,” Wildfire started, fishing for a topic of conversation now that they were alone together, “I know you're as at home in the air as I am at a math test, but seriously and with no teasing, you should let D take you for a ride.”

“Tell you what Wily,” Brush Stroke answered the blind mare after a few moments thought on the subject, “I'll see what Tempest says when they get back, and then I'll make my mind up. Deal?”

Wildfire held out her forehoof out and the artist bumped it straightaway. “Deal!” She exclaimed with a smile.

As she came trotting over to the table, carrying the three deep bowls of cheesy fries and the thick milkshakes – strawberry for her, chocolate for Wildfire and vanilla for Brush Stroke – Airmail caught the word ‘deal’ and she sat the tray down between them before taking her seating pad next to her marefriend. “What deal is that?” she asked curiously.

“Ah, well you see,” Brush Stroke began, pausing just long enough to take his bowl of fries and his shake, “if Dusky and Tempest return, and if she liked her supersonic flight, then I'll consider going for that ride myself.”

Airmail had to stifle her giggles. She utterly failed in that attempt. “I'm surprised you used the word 'if'. I doubt that both will go hetero and fly off together.”

Wildfire, who had at that moment taken a mouthful of cheesy fries, sniggered around them and almost spat them out. The earth pony stallion did laugh out loud, both at Airmail’s quip and at Wildfire’s struggle to swallow. “That’s not quite what I meant, ok, when, when they return. And Wily?”

“Yuppers

“When I go for my flight, you'll study and pass a math exam!”

Airmail looked from pegasus to earth pony, chewing her own mouthful of fries slowly as she gauged each pony’s reaction to that. She had to admit she was impressed with the artist’s raising of the stakes. “Wow…it looks like somepony just doubled down.”

“You have a deal, Oils,” Wildfire giggled and slurped her chocolate shake, “Although I can’t guarantee passing, I am thick you know.”

“Nonsense!” Brush Stroke exclaimed before Airmail could. He refused to believe that. Everything he had witnessed thus far spoke to just how intelligent the blind pony was. “Airy says you aren't a dummy. Is she wrong?”

Slurping some more of her shake, Wildfire shook her head. “Um, no, no she isn't.”

“That is one area we haven't explored yet.” Airmail explained after she swallowed a mouthful of her food, “Stormy says she needs to work on it for her job, though.”

“Well then,” the earth pony smiled as if that was that settled, “this is the perfect opportunity to show everypony that you can do it, Wily.”

“Yuppers, I know…” Wildfire said a little glumly, fiddling with her fries. “Like Airy said, I need it for my work, it’s just, well, I'm just not good with math that’s all.”

“Correction,” Airmail stated definitely, striking her hoof on the table top for emphasis, “you weren't good at math five years ago.”

“True, I haven't tried any kind of math since university,” Wildfire admitted with a hopeless shrug of her shoulders, “but I can't have gotten better, surely?”

“Do you think you could have gotten worse?” Airmail asked, a slight tone of annoyance in her voice. Like Tempest, she disliked self-deprecating ponies.

Wildfire laughed at that. “Dusky and my teachers would argue that's not possible.”

Brush Stroke shook his head. Like Airmail he too hated this kind of attitude. “You can’t be that bad, surely, Wily?"

“The problem is,” Wildfire began to explain her problem before pausing for another quick slurp of her chocolate shake, “when I looked at the pages the numbers all kinda blended into one huge mess, and the more I tried to figure it out, the bigger mess it became. I was hopeless!”

Airmail laid her hoof gently on Wildfire’s left one. “Stormy seems to think that when you touch the numbers now, they won't blend like that anymore.”

“It’s worth a try,” Wildfire admitted with a shrug, “besides, I do have my side of this deal to uphold, right Oils?”

Brush Stroke grinned, “That's the spirit, Wily!”

~ ~ ~

With Princess Dusky as a de facto windbreak, Tempest was enjoying the sight of the southeast Equestrian landscape flashing past like it never had before, in her thirty-eight year long life. To say it was stunning would be an understatement. Indeed, as she hung on tight to the royal pegasus’s back, she found she didn’t have the sufficient adjectives to describe her experience right then.

Tempest was going to whoop with delight when she felt Dusky accelerate up from the speed of sound to what she guessed was mach one-point-five, but as they were currently going much faster than sound there was no point. She whooped anyway. Going this fast, the violet weather pony was almost tempted to let go and fall off just to experience what supersonic free fall would be like, because if it was her time to go, it couldn’t get better than this right here.

Thankfully, as the countryside beyond Dodge City flashed past, now at close to nine hundred miles per hour they whizzed over a donkey village below as nothing more than a blur of speed, Tempest clung on for the sheer thrill of the ride.

Dusky, meanwhile, was grinning like a total idiot and, having reached his maximum speed of one thousand one hundred fifty miles per hour decided then and there to keep pushing ever faster. After all, she had promised Tempest a fast ride, and his coach Rainbow Dash - the only pony capable of a triple rainboom – had been telling her pupil for years he could go faster.

Concentrating, Dusky flapped her midnight blue wings harder than she ever had before and felt herself easing up past mach one-point-five and after a few seconds she managed to break one-point-seven-five for a new top speed of one thousand three hundred fifty. Silently Dusky whooped for joy and finally began to slow down. When she had slowed to subsonic speeds, slow enough to allow conversation but still blindingly fast, Dusky was still whooping with delight. As was Tempest on his back. Eventually she slowed to ‘just’ three hundred and asked, “How was that, Stormy?”

Now back down to ‘normal’ speeds after the thirty five minute supersonic run, Tempest leant forward and nuzzled Dusky’s right cheek. “Fantastic! Just…fantastic!” she gushed like a filly on her best Hearths Warming. “Way better than I ever thought it would be!” She was delightfully giddy, so much so that she almost didn’t notice that they had blasted past Marezona and were further on the way to Trottingham. “When it went silent…wow! Just, wow!”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Dusky grinned, returning the nuzzle that Tempest gave with one of his own. “I managed to push one-point-seven-five back there,” she smiled, “almost mach two, just for you.”

Tempest was still giddy from the sheer amount of speed she had just experienced. She almost didn’t care where they were in the country. “I could see the pressure wave!” She let out the delighted squee. “I saw it build up in front of you and then it just snapped!”

Dusky grinned an ever wider grin. He’d been exactly the same the first time Rainbow had taken him past the speed of sound in flight school. “I would've carried on, see if I could finally do the double, but...I was thinking of the return trip.”

“We can just fly off to Caneighda together and leave it all behind,” she suggested with a giggle.

“Deal!” Dusky laughed, “Tempest, I'm cured, I want the mares!”

“Fine,” Tempest laughed, a crazy little part of her wondering what Caneighda was like this time of year, another crazy part of her entertaining the possibility of eloping with the royal pegasus. Of course she never ever would, but it was fun to think about for just a few moments. “But you wear the dress, I'm wearing the suit.”

“That works for me, Stormy,” Dusky giggled, he’d seen the ‘stallion’ that Tempest became at the restaurant five days ago last Thursday in Canterlot, “I think the suit does suit you.”

“Alas, it may all be for naught!” Tempest declared in as theatrical a voice as she could manage. “I'm unsure about Oils, but Airy is the dangerous type of pony. Of course, there is also your parents to deal with.”

“Ah me, I fear you're right, Stormy.” Dusky sighed, adding a hoof to his forehead for dramatic effect, not unlike Rarity was known to do. “Although, between you and me, I'm not so much worried about my mom, but mum actually would hunt me down and assault me with her cello.”

“I think I'd rather be shot,” Tempest gave her considered opinion on the subject.

“Me too.” Finally, Dusky slowed enough to be able to turn around in a wide arcing U turn in the early afternoon sky. “I've seen mum swing her cello once before.”

“I'm a bit surprised she didn't say anything about Wildfire carrying it,” Tempest commented with a smile, remembering the flight back to Caffeinated’s ranch following the Open Mic night at his coffee shop over a week ago now. “I was busy guiding Wily, but afterwards Airy told me all about her expressions and yelling when we flew through the Narrows Bridge.”

“Well, mum told me about it when we finally met back up,” Dusky replied as he began to fly back the way they had come, Marezona away in the distance, “she was rather distressed about it at the time, but I suspect mom calmed her somewhat.”

“I told her and Mapper that I thought the carrier was more precious than the cargo.”

At that, Dusky turned his head to face Tempest over his shoulder. “And you'd be quite right too Stormy,” he said to her seriously. “Wily is very precious to me too.”

“Gave your mum cause to pause.” Tempest smiled, “Still, the prank your mom played making Tavi play her music on a pink cello...that was priceless!” she added with a giggle.

“Ooh yes...they both told me about that,” Dusky joined his passenger in the little fit of giggles. “When my parents ever act their age Equestria will fall, I’m sure of that. You say Airy is the dangerous pony, if I'm honest with you Tempest, you scare me more.”

Still giggling as they flew back towards the north-west the way they had come, the violet mare asked, “Afraid I'll make it rain on your parade?”

“Nooo, no, not that.” Dusky took a deep breath and considered his thoughts at that. “I saw the look on your face when you came up from the Mare's Club room that Thursday.” He shuddered at the memory. “I'll not forget that in a hurry, Tempest.”

“That was a trying day indeed,” Tempest admitted, giving her ride’s cheek another friendly nuzzle. She remembered her actions as well as anypony else that was there at the ranch that day. “Besides, you should see Airy when she does that; the cold dead eyes and the voice…” she shivered on his back just thinking about it.

“Yes, yes it was trying…” he gave Tempest a hesitant giggle. “Honestly it felt like several days in one. You know the morning after I spoke to Requiem, she asked me if I was worried about Wildfire. I had to say no, because I knew she was with the two of you.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Tempest said with a definite blush colouring up her violet cheeks so much that Dusky could feel the heat. To get that seal of approval from Wildfire’s best friend, it meant a lot. A whole lot. “Wily has done things for us too. She’s brought our mini-herd back together.”

“I don't give that confidence lightly. I've seen how you all gel together. Wily couldn't be in better hooves.”

“Time will tell,” Tempest said, still blushing, “but we won't give up on her.”

“Well, that much is obvious!” Dusky giggled, “you've lasted almost two weeks of her telling you how ‘awesomes’ she is, it’s clear you're there for the long haul.”

Tempest snorted a laugh at that. “She is awesomes…” she leant forward and whispered in his ear, “in bed.”

Dusky sniggered, “I'm sure she is, Tempest. On that note, are you ready to cover about eight hundred miles in just over half an hour again?”

“Yes, captain!” Tempest squeaked like that excited little filly once more. She knew in the back of her mind that the upside of coming out here at rainboom speeds meant going back just as fast. She spent her life dreaming of going that fast once, now she got to do it twice. Twice! “Seat backs and tables have been stowed in their upright position!”

Giggling, Dusky completed the airship emergency routine. “In case of emergency the exits are here and here…” he waved his hooves to the left and the right as he spoke. “And should we crash you are asked to not scream, as its annoying.”

“No scream, check.” Tempest snickered, holding on tight as with three flaps of his powerful midnight blue wings, Dusky accelerated from a stationary hover up to one hundred miles per hour. “Permission to haunt you?”

“Granted.” The royal pegasus grinned and flapped harder, blurring past the outlying countryside surrounding Marezona at three hundred miles per hour. “You can stand at the edge of the bed and try to distract us!” he called back, the familiar cone of pressure starting to build around his forehooves.

“Deal,” Tempest clenched her hind legs tight in readiness of the upcoming spectacle, “let's fly!”

“Yes Ma'am, Miss Tempest!” with that, Dusky blasted through seven hundred and fifty miles per hour, shattering the sound barrier with the explosion of dark blue and grey concentric rings that shot out from him as its epicentre, the stallion leaving the dark blue streak behind him as he shot off at speed.

On Dusky’s back, Tempest enjoyed the supersonic flight back every bit as much as she did the first one. Eventually, when the violet pegasus unaware that the others had flown on since they themselves had taken off to play - thought she saw the burger joint in Dodge City blurring towards them and she tapped Dusky’s flanks twice. When her ride had slowed enough to talk, she asked, “Are Oils’ parents expecting you two tonight?”

“I don't think so, Miss Tempest, I think we were due in tomorrow.”

“The two of you are welcome to come spend the night at my folk's place.” Tempest offered to her now very good friend as they glided down almost at a slam dunk approach to the dirt path in Dodge City. “My elder sis moved out some time ago, while my brother still lives there.”

“That's very kind of you Tem...sorry, Miss Tempest,” Dusky corrected himself as he was close to his Master, he thought he’d get back in the respectful habit. “I'll ask Brush Stroke when we get back.” Nearing the burger joint, Dusky slowed down to a hover, not wishing to dirty his hooves again. “I don't know about you, Miss Tempest,” he smiled, “but I could use something unhealthy and greasy.”

“Hang on…” scanning the rustic diner, Tempest found their three companions weren’t there. They weren’t anywhere. “Just a minute, Dusky.” Getting her phone from her saddlebag, she quickly called Airmail. “Airy, we're back, where are you?”

After several minutes of back and forth with Airmail and Wildfire, who used her flight headset to divine the location of Point One that the violet mare held, Tempest found out they were at the Hay-In-A-Bale burger joint over in Marezona two hundred and twenty miles back towards the south east. “I got it,” Tempest snickered, “we’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Still hovering effortlessly a few feet above the dirt path, Dusky waited ‘till his passenger had put away her cell phone before he asked, “Where to, Miss Tempest?”

“You have the right food joint, but the wrong city.” Tempest giggled and pointed towards the southeast. “They’re about two hundred miles that way at the Hay-In-A-Bale in Marezona.”

“So I overshot a little,” Dusky said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I was close, a little.”

“I think you were spot on with the return,” Tempest said, “just that they didn't wait for us, but they continued on to Trottingham and made a whole two hundred miles while we were gone. Be sure to congratulate them on such long distance flying.”

“I have to admit that's not bad is it?” Dusky admitted with a smile as the effeminate stallion rose up into the clear blue afternoon sky. “I'll have to give Wily a hoof bump for getting that far.”

“Indeed,” Tempest agreed as she very gently disengaged herself from Dusky’s back. She had been fine being a passenger during the two supersonic runs, but now she was eager to fly properly. “This is good exercise for her, it is a hundred mile round trip from city centre to the cloud factory.”

“I take it her exercises are going well then?” Dusky asked, reaching one thousand feet of height and smoothing out the red dress he wore.

“This is day four of the program,” Tempest explained, “so it’s a bit early to tell results. She is very determined though, and that is a big part of it.”

Dusky giggled, “She's always been a driven mare, when she sets her mind to something she usually gets there. Still, as early as the progress is, it’s something to report back to mom.”

“I'll have her doing underwater flying at the lake by our house,” Tempest continued as they flew along side by side at a steady – for them anyway – one hundred and fifty miles per hour. “She got her first taste of it over at Airy's place, in Vanhoover.”

“Excellent!” Dusky exclaimed as they flew over the park where Airmail, Brush Stroke and Wildfire had rested, “That'll keep my mom happy…” he laughed out loud at that, “you know she's become quite enamoured with your herd, right?”

“I haven't had a lot of interaction with your mom or your mum,” Tempest commented, the time she had rutted Princess Luna down in the Mare’s Club room at Caffeinated’s ranch notwithstanding, of course, “but I know that Airy trusts her, and she has come through for us more than once. Then, I know as well that Mapper loves them both.”

“I happen to know she holds you all with a great deal of affection, especially Mapper.” Dusky said with a grin over at his friend, “I'm not sure if it’s from a sense of duty, of failing Wily and making up for it, but I do know there's only a hooffull of ponies in the world that mom would fly to a train for at such short notice.”

“From Airy, it is because we treat her like any other pony,” Tempest commented as they once more passed over the donkey village, this time considerably slower. “Still, I think we will be careful to not cry wolf.”

“Yes, mom craves the normality.” Dusky nodded his agreement at that. “She's never been one for protocol and procedure. That's Aunt Tia. My mom's more action and intuition. Still, I think not doing the crying wolf thing is wise.”

“I was so surprised that Airy got in to see her after we first met Emerald.”

“It’s very simple really.” Dusky commented, “My mom likes you. Mapper - and by extension all of you - are her friends. Why'd you think she did the dream merging for you?”

“Because…” Tempest paused and took a deep breath, gauging how best to carry on, “Because Mapper can be quite manipulating when she wants to be. Nothing against Mapper, she’s the love of my life, but she does play many a pony, like your mum plays her cello. Still, the dream merging was the nicest surprise I think I've ever seen anypony get. Besides, now you're getting a sister out of the deal!”

“Mapper likes mind games,” Dusky laughed, “mom invented them. Probably why they get on so well. Tell me, did Wily like her surprise?”

“By Luna's everflowing mane she did!” Tempest exclaimed as they sped up a little to two hundred miles per hour, Marezona far away on the horizon. “It gave her hope too. I think after the foals are born, she would like another dream trip to see the three of them.”

Dusky giggled when Tempest used his mom’s name. “Now you sound like Sonic, you'll be blessing her teats next. And I should thank you, Wily could use a little hope. Of course, another dream trip is required, Miss Tempest.”

Tempest joined her friend in the fit of giggles. “I like to use Sonic's approach; if it is good I swear by Luna and if it is bad I swear by Celestia.”

“I like that approach,” Dusky replied, then he went quiet as a thought crossed his mind. “I've been meaning to ask, how was she after we dropped off her book? We were going to stick around, but my Oils wanted some fun alone time.”

Tempest breathed heavily. She had to fight back more than a few tears at the mention of the poem book. It had been a very emotional day. “Wily thought it was gone. Destroyed by Amethyst. Later, Airy and I read all but the braille poems. We allowed Wily to read those out to us and recorded her…” Tempest reached over and griped her friend’s hoof with her own. “They were really sad.”

“It was found in Amethyst's safe the day after the raid by a guard on cleanup duty,” Dusky explained simply. “Aunt Tia took a copy of it and asked me to return it.” He squeezed Tempest’s hoof with his own. “Do ah…do I want to know about those braille ones?”

“No.”

“They’re that bad, huh?”

Tempest wiped away her few tears with her free hoof. “Bad enough that I wish you hadn't brought it up. At least those poems will not be published.”

“I'm genuinely sorry, Miss Tempest.”

Tempest flew a little closer to her friend and gently nuzzled his midnight blue cheek. “You are not to blame for what happened to Wildfire. I believe that those who are to blame have had justice meted out to them.”

“They have,” Dusky replied, thankful for the reassuring nuzzle, “to the fullest of mine and my mom's ability.”

“Wily knows that too,” Tempest said, giving him a further nuzzle for good measure. “So it has to be good enough.”

“It is.” Dusky smiled then, a different thought occurring to him then. “Oh, and on a different topic, thank you very much for giving Oils the idea of adopting.”

“Insert hoof in mouth!” Tempest laughed as they began their steady descent into Marezona. “Still, I'm glad you both not only took it well, but took it to heart.”

“Or,” Dusky sniggered, “you could insert your hoof in Wily's mouth. To be honest I've been thinking about it for a while, I was just wondering the best way to bring it up in conversation.”

“I promise not to tell Oils this ride was the payoff for bringing it up,” Tempest swore with her forehoof over her heart. “Based on what Oils said earlier though, I hope you find one closer to you than him in personality.” She giggled, and at Dusky’s questioning look, went on to explain, “Oils said after getting him, his folks decided he would be an only foal. At least yours, even after twenty five years, decide to have a second.”

“There is the Hay-in-a-Bale!” Tempest pointed with her forehoof and began her descent towards, the thankfully more modern than the one in Dodge City. “All passengers have prepared for landing!”

“I see it!” Dusky peeled off and began his descent to the ground. “I don’t know about you Tempest, but I'm looking forward to something unhealthy and full of calories.” When he landed Dusky began to fuss over his appearance, once more becoming the mare that he was always meant to be inside. She stroked her charcoal grey mane and smoothed her ponytail.

Noticing this, Tempest tutted like the mother hen she was and, seeing what a mess Dusky was making of said ponytail, proceeded to fuss over it for her. Once her mane was sorted, Tempest used her wings to smooth out the wrinkles in the red dress. “Dusky, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, Miss Tempest,” Dusky smiled and, changing his voice ever so slightly, completed the transformation from stallion to mare. “I was worried I looked like I'd carried a pony supersonic twice…through a hedge, backwards.”

“You're good,” Tempest gave the submissive royal pegasus a last critique. “Definitely no yellow stain on your dress.”

“That'll do me!” Dusky giggled and bowed politely as Tempest opened the Hay-In-A-Bale’s door and allowed the Princess to enter ahead of her.