It was over a year since I had left my home to come here to the Badlands. I had gone back to my home in the mountains on Hearts and Hooves Day to pay respects to Lance's shrine at the mouth of the cave. It was true, the community really had left the cave network and the town further up the slopes. Partially built shells of fondly remembered stores and blackened husks of burnt buildings were all that remained. The caves were equally as cold, with small animals starting to move in. I knew my parents had moved to a safe place, along with the rest of the townsfolk. It was the memories that haunted me now. The shrine remained unaffected by the weather, though. There was an air of magic about it, a preservation spell possibly from one of the unicorns before they left. As much as they held disdain for the mess we inadvertently became mired in, the unicorns did do a lot for us when we needed them most. If only they could have done a little more...if only I could have. In any case, it did not feel like home anymore. Nowhere did, aside from the attic at Hangnail's abode. I was glad to start back to the Badlands that same day, my bitter memories as travel mates to keep me cozy. We did not part ways once I reached my destination back.

That first year and the following one I felt most free, and most volatile. I did not have much responsibility aside from running the shaman's errands, which gave me plenty of time to practice my talents. Conversely, it had become harder and harder to reach Nightmare Moon and I couldn't explain why. My frustration with the dragons and my loss clearly should have bridged space and time, yet I heard not a whisper of Her. With the passing of the second Hearts and Hooves Day I didn't even bother visiting my old home, plus with recurring nightmares of Lance dying, still no sign of my mentor, not in my dreams, and no solace when I awoke. The shaman did his best to keep my mind off the past, and off dragons too, I suspected. For the last several months he had me take up sewing in between sessions practicing with the other warriors of the tribe.

The males would try to show their superiority in movement and martial prowess while the females were downright nasty when sparring with me. One of the friendlier ones admitted it was jealousy of my relationship with Velvet. I told them he was only teaching me how to fight and that was it, but they wouldn't listen. In the end I had to push myself to beat them all. Some things never changed.

The sewing did have a soothing effect to my moods. I honestly had not noticed how angry I was until Velvet approached me one day and asked if I would ever be happy with what I had. I snapped at him with something to the effect that he should stay away from me if he didn't want to get hurt. What I meant was to keep him safe, though if I were truthful with myself, I did not know if the danger was from others, or from me. It was the hurt I saw in his eyes that I knew how he felt about me, and how I felt about everything. I went to the shaman for advice, anger and pain roiling in me. I was never disappointed when it came to the shaman bringing out the best in me.

"Bump fuzzies with him and make bat-pony-kittens. I would live another lifetime to see that." I gawked at his audacity to suggest such a thing, and so bluntly to my face! He blinked and raised an eyebrow, "Beast with two backs? No? How about cat-scratch fever, desert style, quite unlike the jungle fever you may be used to, wait, no. You lived near the swamplands in a cave. Do the swamp thang!" I charged at him with blind rage while he leaned against his alchemy table. At the last instant, he kicked the gnarled wooden staff leaning next to him, the heavy top end flipping over to hit me on the forehead as he stepped out of my way. I barely glimpsed him grabbing the staff out of midair before slamming it into my back, propelling me even faster into a nearby bookcase. Several books of plants I had already read slid off the shifting shelves, pummeling me. Before I could get up, the bookcase fell over on me. The combined weight of it all kept me from barely moving, until the shaman hopped up on the bookcase and sat on it, trapping me completely. My tail twitched like an enraged cat as I waited for him to give me his lecture.

"I do so enjoy a bit of heavy reading first thing in the morning. Gets the blood pumping. Did you know there are different types of blood, even among the same species? There is an entire volume dedicated to blood studies in there, if you are interested. It WAS on the third shelf there." He tapped his staff on the bookcase, eliciting a groan from me. "Mm, perhaps another time I would venture. First Rule of Fighting?"

My muffled voice drifted up angrily, "Self Control!"

He replied, "The Second Rule of Fighting?"

I responded in a softer tone, "Self Control."

The shaman breathed in slowly, as though drinking in the very energy in the air. "And of course, the Third Rule of Fighting is...?" I could do nothing else but breathe similarly, yet I remained silent. I tested my limbs to see if there was any budge to the material piled atop me. The shaman smiled and nodded. "Yes, with an unclouded mind formulate a plan while in the eye of the storm. Many great warriors have failed because they could not focus after their first inevitable failure, either a failed attack or initial plan falling apart. You control nothing but yourself, in the end." With his always insightful speech out of the way he began lifting the bookcase and shoving books off of me. I lay there and stared at an open book in front of me. It was a book on sewing, from basic functional articles of clothing to exotic bags and other cloth patterns. One picture showed what looked like a pegasus in a dress, the cutie mark covered up by the flowing fabric. The shaman sat down next to me and grinned, "I remember when that was in fashion up north. They so love their dresses and suits up there. It never really caught on in the southern regions."

I muttered more to myself than to him, "I could have used that growing up, to cover my birth mark. Let them laugh at my exotic outfit, and not at me, or the lack of me." I traced the wings that were partially hidden under the dress of the pegasus. The shaman scratched his chin and leaned closer.

"Naw, I can't see you wearing one of those. As good as you can hide, your hide is too bold to be worth hiding." He chuckled at himself while I suffered his humor. He got up quickly and went over to an old trunk and rummaged inside it. He pulled out a small wooden box and set it down in front of me, opening the lid. Inside was an assortment of thread spools, needles and measuring tape. He held up one of the needles and said quietly, "In peace, this can save one's reputation. In war, this saves many. You have a conflict inside you, and I think this can save you from yourself. Take the book and box, start with small things. I shall find other things for you to work on, but I have a feeling this is the best advice I can give you. Fuzzies aside, of course." I glowered, yet I held myself in check. I needed something else to take my mind off things or I was going to drive myself mad.

---------ooooooooooo------------

The summer and winter were a bit peculiar in the arid country where the cats lived, in that those were the only two seasons here versus the broader four seasons I grew up with on the base slopes of the mountains further north. The plants and animals here were evolved specifically to conserve and appreciate water. Being a creature of the night, I was grateful when I did not have to look for the shaman's specific plants under the hot thirst-provoking sun. No, today held another kind of thirst. A thirst for knowledge, and training, and blood, and-

"Ouch! Dammit, why am I doing this again? This doesn't kill dragons!" I sucked on the tip of my hoof where the needle had stuck me. The shaman and I were in his hut. He was toiling away at grinding in his mortar while I sat in the middle of the floor sewing. I knew this was to calm me during times of internal turmoil...however, I was sewing his stupid loin cloth! At least he had the decency to wash it before making me patch it. "Which reminds me, how does a mangy old cat like you get patches in your loin cloth anyway?!"

The shaman stopped grinding and glanced at me with a deadpan look. "You are not the only one that goes out looking for plants and trouble. Besides, do you wish me to walk around naked?" He turned around in a hideous display, posing as though he were on some fancy modeling stage. He was wearing a spare loincloth, thank the Heavens.

I shook my head and went back to work, pushing the needle through the cloth and pulling out the slack from the glass thistle thread. "You are covered in fur. Nakedness only comes into play when you are shaved." I glanced at my pack with the dagger handle sticking out of a side pocket. "That I can help you with." The shaman cackled and went back to his mortar.

"I am too old for such whimsical foreplay, but thankyou for offering." My needle slipped again, earning another outcry of pain. The shaman merely grinned and hummed a catchy tune to himself. He paused as I went back to work and smiled, "You have come a long way. You even got through this past Cuddles and Kittens Day without threatening to kill any feline that smiled at you."

I continued working, determined not to be provoked THIS time. "It's Hearts and Hooves, you wiley whiskermouth...and I wasn't quite so bad then. I just needed some space."

The shaman guffawed and shook his paw at me, "Too much space can drive away those that care too much. Besides, sooner or later you do need to get back into the loving mood." I was about to respond with a scathing destination he could stick his advice when Velvet chose that moment to step in unannounced and chuckled as he took in the scene.

"There are easier ways to get into a ridgecat's loincloth. Suffering the antics of an old crazy feline is not one of them." As he walked by I swiped at him with the needle, which he deflty hopped over. He stood next to the shaman and nodded his head, "You wished to see me, Great old One?" The older cat laughed and slid a jar over to Velvet. There were several rocks and bits of metal in the jar.

"I need you to find more of that during your wanderings. You may have to push aside some dirt now and again, or look under a ledge or two." The levity went out of Velvet as he began to realize all the scratching in the dirt he would have to do. He let out a small growl. The shaman waved dismissively, "Oh put away your velvet paws, this is actually important for the survival of our tribe." Velvet reluctantly picked up the jar and slipped it into a pouch on his quiver. I noticed he was geared up as though ready for war. Even his bow was strung and in his paw. I inquired about where the war was going to take place and he smirked. It was the shaman that answered, "Just outside in the practice field, with you in the center of it. You had mentioned your inability to commune with your mentor as of late. I have some thoughts on that, but for now, Velvet has volunteered to step up your training. In addition to sewing and learning about plants and the world around you, it is time you learned how to face death." With that, Velvet nodded once and stepped to the door quickly, subtly taking a wide path to avoid another swipe from me. I ignored him, set aside the loincloth and needle and hopped up, approaching the shaman.

"What about my mentor? What is it you think you know?"

With a sigh, the shaman turned around without any sign of humor. He looked so very old at that moment. "The young have little patience, and you most of all leap headfirst when you should study the tracks, think through the processes and pathways needed to achieve your goals." I gritted my teeth and remained silent just so he could get on with it. I knew he was right but now I was more interested in Nightmare Moon than his rules of combat. He recognized my posture as it underscored what he just said, then shrugged. "Perhaps you will eventually learn these lessons. As to your mentor, I fear things are quickening to an unseen conclusion. The stars have begun to shift, an event not witnessed for generations. I await the other tribal shamans and their observations, but so far there is an acceleration of celestial movement toward the middle of summer."

I looked away to process everything he was saying. It always came back to the stars watching over the moon like guardians, or wards. Not a permanent guard. Nothing was ever permanent. I looked up and asked, "The peak of their movement, when will that be?"

He watched me and stated, "Our summer solstice. The longest hour of the longest day. Only two months from now. What will be will be. In the meantime, Velvet wishes to make you face death." I wrinkled my nose and turned away. I walked slowly to my pack and pulled out my dagger and leg sheath before moving to the doorway. As I secured the sheath to my foreleg, the shaman said, "If you survive, be sure to stitch up the tail hole on my garment, definitely gets worn out in the field. You know, with having just scrub brush out there...." I had to practically run out of the hut to avoid hearing anymore of his twisted mind.

I stepped out to the large courtyard nearby where we normally did our sparring. It was early in the morning hours around late supper time for most of the nocturnal cats, yet there were no other cats around in sight. Velvet stood on the other end of the sparring ring, holding his bow in one paw and an arrow in the other. A glint shone off the arrowhead from a nearby hooded torchlight. I chuckled and called out while pointing to the left, "The target dummies are that way, V." I never could say his name without giggling or turning away to cover up a smile. I tried other nicknames and they always made his hackles stand up. V was the best I could do. Velvet stood silently, watching me. His eyes flickered to my self-stitched dagger sheath and the blade inside it, then back up to my eyes, as if trying to read me. I started to feel uncomfortable because this was not his usual approach to sparring, certainly not with a bow. As if he really did read my mind, he raised the bow and nocked the arrow. I immediately shifted my stance from casual to completely defensive. None of our sparring ever incorporated dodging arrows! I tensed, waiting for him to shift his aim or at least lower the bow. His fingers released the arrow and I threw myself into the dirt as it tore through the air over me. I got up choking from grit and spat, "Are you actually trying to kill me?!"

He had already pulled another arrow from his quiver and was drawing a bead on me. His response was almost monotone, "I am forcing you to face death. You will either learn this lesson, or learn nothing ever again." He let loose. This time I dodged to the side and kept running. I hadn't gone five steps before he was aiming again. There was no way for me to approach and bring the fight to him before he could skewer me. I stutter-stepped just in time to see a blur zip in front of my eyes, a window shattering as it plowed through it. Screw this crap, I'm out. I started for the nearest boundary of the village, galloping down an alleyway. It wasn't but a few seconds before I heard steady pattering above me and I looked up. Velvet was loping over the rooftops of the buildings and semi-permanent tents, briefly stopping to aim at me. I blindly turned a corner, the arrow shattering against the wall where my head would have been. I threw myself through a window, crashed through the kitchen of several cats eating a meal, exited an open back doorway, randomly turned down another alley, jumped into another building and slid under a table, bumping against one of the table legs. I started to get a little dizzy as I slowed my breath to listen. I became aware that I was awkwardly close to a female cat's legs as she was sitting at the table I was under. Her tailtip twitched in slight annoyance. When I peeked out from under the table, I saw Ringtail staring down at me.

"I do not know where you are planning to have your meal, but on the table is easier than under it." I sat up indignantly and bumped my head. At that moment a shadow fell across a nearby window and I hid quickly. After a few seconds, the shadow moved on. Ringtail said quietly, "Facing your death, I see. Under the table is not the place for that, either."

I came out from under the table and whispered harshly, "I've faced death a few times already, I don't need Velvet teaching me how to die with an arrow through my skull!" My ears twitched as I thought I heard something nearby, but I didn't see anything. My senses were jumping at shadows, even cat-shaped ones.

Ringtail put her fork down and gave me a level gaze. She said, "You have run from it all your life. All the other warriors here see it. Why do you think they keep coming at you?"

The straightforward insight stunned me for a moment. "No, no, that's not why. One of them said it was because of my relationship with Velvet."

Ringtail chuckled and resumed eating. After she swallowed she replied, "That one was jealous...as were a few others. Everycat else sees you as prey, a liability, and have tested you constantly to find your breaking point. A true warrior does not break. A true warrior..." She had closed her eyes, possibly remembering something. When she opened them, she resumed softly, "A true warrior faces death not for herself, but for others. It is your acceptance of the inevitable that forges you to be unbreakable. And yet you run, and hide under my table."

Her words stirred anger in me, yet this time it was a distant echo. I had not lived their lives in the Badlands, testing myself from birth. I stood up and asked, "So I should stand there and die to show I can face death? There are too many things left to do for me to give up. I am not a coward!"

The female cat smiled slightly and said, "No, I did not think you were, but neither can you run from this either...DUCK!!!" I slammed my chin on the table as I went down, a whistling sound tearing overhead and some pottery on the opposite wall shattered into pieces. Ringtail stood up and threw the table in the direction the arrow came from. As I made my way to the doorway on the other end of the kitchen, I saw the table being thrown to the side by Velvet as he dove in through the window. Ringtail chided him, "You are not being very fair with her." He stood up and looked at her as he drew back his bow, somehow lining up his shot on me while turned sideways.

"Death is never fair." He continued to walk towards me, his fingers loosening. Ringtail stuck out her leg and tripped him, his shot going wide.

She winked at me as she replied to him, "I suppose you are right." I nodded my thanks and ran, putting as much distance between me and the doorway as I could. I heard more clattering of furniture and pottery before Velvet leaped out of the abode and I turned a corner, then another and another to throw him off. Ringtail must have caused him a few more delays, but she wouldn't have fought him fully. This was my ordeal. At this point I knew if I made it outside the village, his bow would take me down long before I outran his him, if I could outrun him. Another option was to ambush him. He had spent his life in combat and stealth. He would notice me creeping up on him, so that was out.

Without knowing it, I found myself coming upon the center of the village again, near the practice ring where this all started. The worst option, and thus the only one left, was to confront him directly. At range I barely had time to dodge his shots, yet I would have to in order to bring my dagger to bear. I had been running from what I knew I had to do all this time. It was as Ringtail had said. Do not run, but do not surrender. The only question was what would my life or death gain?

I slowly walked out to the center of the practice field, eyeing the small hut off to the side. The shaman was there just inside, watching me. An odd memory came to the forefront. I knew I should be focused on how to handle Velvet, but I couldn't help it. It was of me and the shaman discussing the future of the ridgecats in general. He was talking about harvesting minerals from the Badlands rather than relying on dangerous treks to the cavern. He said it was his attempt to lessen confrontations between his people and the dragons while improving their economy. At the time I thought it was just idle conversation because he had nopony else to speak to. Now as I reviewed that conversation, I recalled minor details, glances at me when he spoke of confrontations, his face when he spoke of the dragons as though he pitied them, how he lit up when speaking about economics. He even spoke of me one day meeting my mentor. He did not want me to endanger myself and he was looking to the future. In so many conversations with the ridgecats, they have all been looking to my future, and not a sudden end facing dragons. I had too much to live for, to help Nightmare Moon in her crusade for the night races. Would it be enough to face Velvet and survive?

The fur on the back of my neck stood up and I turned around. Velvet was standing at the mouth of the alley I had come from, bow at the ready. He walked forward a few paces and stopped. He yelled, "Jen, Slicer of Dragons, do you finally accept your fate, or do you run and hide?" I drew my dagger and clenched it in my teeth. If I had to confront him, I needed all four hooves churning dirt until the very end. I growled and lowered my head. He was far enough that I could dodge the first one cold, the second one if I got lucky. There would be just enough time for him to let off a third shot. I supposed that is when I would face the death these insane felines revered so much. What would be would be.

Velvet heard my growl and nodded. I lurched forward, digging up gravel as I pushed forward. The first arrow came in straight for my chest. I dipped low, barely feeling the fletching scrape past my shoulder. I dug in my hooves harder, trying to get as much speed as I could out of my legs. He shot a second time but it was low, possibly thinking I would stay low as well, which I had not. The third arrow was already coming up and I was too far to reach him. I continued on, knowing he could place his shot anywhere he wanted in me. I felt a moment of pure bliss, a singular form of purpose as I closed the distance to him. I could take it. As long as I reached him, I could take an arrow. Then I will either live, or die. And I was not afraid. Ten paces, five, three. I felt at peace as I saw nothing but the arrow, still held on the bow. Velvet's eyes watched my face...and he hesitated.

I plowed into his stomach as only a young adult threstral traveling at top speed without brakes could. We tumbled as I grappled to keep him near me. I ended up sitting on top of him and I grabbed the dagger from my mouth and put it against his throat, yelling at him, "Is THIS the death you want to face!?!" In retrospect it was a stupid question, but at the time I wasn't thinking straight, given the circumstances. I breathed heavily, my muscles aching. When I could finally think, I remembered he hadn't fired that last shot. Feeling insulted I said, "You had me, you knew you could take me down at that range. Why didn't you?" He coughed several times to get the air back in him and finally smiled.

I could feel something poking at the side of my head. When I turned to look, it was the arrow he was still holding in his paw. The shiny tip was bending each time he pushed it against my temple. It appeared to be made out of silver painted rubber. "I have faced many deaths before today, little thestral, and I have helped others face theirs. To be honest, at that last moment when you realized what you were truly facing and had accepted it, your face was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed in my life. Shooting would have ruined it, even if the shot was never going to be fatal." With that, he licked my nose.

I lay there on him for some time, stunned. Several other cats had begun to come out and witness us, including Ringtail. They had definitely seen him lick me. I narrowed my eyes and said, "Just for that, see how you like my challenge now." I placed my dagger on the top of his head and got up.

Several cats gasped. Ringtail's cheeks turned red, even through her fur. The shaman walked up and wheezed in laughter before saying, "Now that I did not see coming." Velvet slowly got up, keeping the blade balanced on his head. "I suppose that's one way to turn the tables on you, young blood." I looked around in confusion. Why were they all shocked?

Hangnail came loping up and stopped short when he spied the dagger, "Woh, boy, who just proposed to you? And without my blessing?"

I choked and whipped around at him, "What are you talking about? I did the challenge thing, on the head, like you did." All of the cats started laughing. That is, except Velvet and Ringtail. She stepped up next to me and placed a paw on my shoulder.

She said softly, "Placing a beloved weapon upon an opponent's head, especially one after combat, is one of our most purest forms ceremonial marriage proposal." I felt a complete void inside, only my eyes and ears existed. I couldn't even work my mouth to make words.

Hangnail chuckled and walked over to Velvet, "Boy, you know she isn't aware of our customs. Give me that." He went to grab the dagger but Velvet ducked and stepped away, the blade perfectly balanced. Hangnail raised an eyebrow, then looked at me, "Can't say I didn't try. Your best bet is to snatch it back. Do that, and the marriage is off. A full day, remember?" Velvet was already starting to slink away.

I threw off Ringtail's paw and chased after Velvet into one of the alleys, the roar of the crowd's laughter receding behind me. I chased him long into the night and into the morning.

-------------oooooooooooo---------------

It was the middle of the day where I found myself eyeing a patch of yellow flowers, deep in the low steppes of the Badlands and the heartland Velvet said his clan belonged to. He and I had roamed cross-country far and wide the last couple of months searching for watering holes, minerals and plants. His priorities were the water supply in case the river dried up as it was known to do now and then, and to a lesser extant the minerals available in the wilderness. It was the shaman's belief that the feud with the dragons for the fire water was unsustainable and the tribes needed a new commodity to trade with, otherwise they'd have to leave their homeland. I was more partial to a moister climate, but there was a raw beauty to the landscape, as long as you knew what not to step on, pick, eat, or get near, which brought me to my own task. Picking flowers and weeds.

Today was very thirst-provoking. Not the thirst for knowledge, or training, or even blood. This time I was looking for a yellow flower bloom conveniently called a golden sunburst in the middle of the day. Damn that shaman. The flower only bloomed at high noon and it had to be picked right then or you missed out on harvesting its seed pods, which the shaman said were special. At any other time, the seed pods would appear shriveled and useless. I swear I saw several jars of sunburst seeds in his hut. Once or twice I caught him hiding more as I walked in unannounced. At the time I pointed them out to the shaman and he gave a peculiar response, stating they were useless if picked by the wrong cat. I told him I was a thestral and he said 'exactly.' That mangy feline had to be snacking on his own mushrooms.

I looked up and saw the sun still had a good half hour until it was time to harvest the sunbursts. Velvet had gone off to find a watering hole since we were quite a ways southeast of the river. I had just started thinking about how far dragons might venture into the Badlands to continue their vendetta against the ridge cats when a shadow crossed the sun. I looked up with a sinking feeling and heard leathery wings flapping, a large form coming closer. I pulled out my dagger and ground my hooves into the hot dirt. I wasn't about to die without a fight.

The dragon landed a lot lighter than I expected. It was the dark blue I spoke to back in my town, when it was digging through flowers while other dragons roasted my school and several businesses. He regarded the blade I held in my teeth before he chuffed dismissively and looked past me to a hill in the distance. After a moment he turned back to me and said, "You may not see well under this sun, yet my scales should remind you of our conversation."

I slipped the blade into the sheath on my leg and replied, "Yes, I remember. I can only assume you have made progress to our mutual goal of moving the brood east over the ocean?"

The dragon nodded and said, "A tunnel has been bored through to directly under the sea bed. Unfortunately the bedrock keeping the water at bay is too dense to pierce with fire." It flicked its head back in the direction of the hill it was looking at earlier. I turned to look but saw nothing. The dragon's odd mannerism couldn't derail my train of thought. From all the tales I had heard regarding dragonfire, it could melt through anything. In essence, he should have been able to finish the job himself without my intervention...unless....

I stated, "If you were to push through the seabed, the sudden flood would likely drown you. You need a method of breaching without endangering yourself, then?" The dragon's eyes narrowed and it slowly nodded. I got the feeling that the dragon had something else on his mind, or I might just be paranoid given the history between our species.

With a grumble he turned away and rustled his wings, preparing to fly. "It does not matter how it is done, only that the seabed is the last barrier to this conflict. I have positioned myself as the lowly guard of the fire pools, to safeguard your arrival should you come up with a plan and arrive unannounced. High Summer approaches and that is the time the brood will celebrate in the pools nonstop for a fortnight. I will be unable to hide the tunnel then, and they may well seal it and kill me for my complicity." He stopped and sniffed the air, almost smiling. "Your loved one approaches. Be grateful for what you have, for all things come to an end sooner or later." He then leapt into the air, forcing his wings down in a buffet of wind as he ascended.

Movement from the side caught my eye as the terrain began to shift, resolving itself as Velvet as he came closer. His fur allowed him to blend almost perfectly with the local surroundings. The dragon must have had superior eyesight, and smell? I sniffed at Velvet, who in turn gave me a queer look and said, "Problem?"

"He called you my loved one. Wasn't sure if he was poking fun at me or if he honestly smelled something I didn't."

My statements earned a chuckle as he walked past me, his eyes still on the dragon. "You got your dagger back in time, what do you think?" I brushed past him, purposefully elbowing him and went back to the flowers, thinking back almost two months to that time.

"You let me take it after you proved I couldn't catch you!" I raised a hoof to my eyes to make sure the dragon was gone, partially obscured by the sun. I looked at the flowers, then back up at the sun. It was well past noon and certainly past time I could pick them. Velvet sidled up next to me and looked over my shoulder as I said, "Dammit."

"Truer words were never spoken. For the flowers, anyway. I got tired of you trying to prove you didn't want me." He flicked the back of my head and had already moved off as I turned around to retaliate.

"That's not true! Well, the marriage thing, but...ARGH! I don't know what I want right now!" I stared at the smirking feline as he started to pull out the tent parts from his backpack. "Um, what are you doing?"

He glanced up at the sun, then looked east. "The shaman's strict orders were to bring back material with every trip out. I got mine. You did not. We can't go back until you harvest those pods and we can't stand around out here with the sun up and dragons flying about. And I'm tired, thankyou for not asking. Isn't it past your bedtime?" He continued putting up the tent. I pursed my lips, refusing to respond. He was right, and as much as I loved his practical approach to things, it also infuriated me when he was right all the time! I sighed and walked over to help.

I said in a lower voice, "Your bedtime too, you know. And it wasn't that I didn't want you...it's...I have things, to do...I don't even know why I'm explaining this to you, it's your stupid custom!" He grinned as he put up the spars to drape the gossamer material over. In a huff I threw the material up on the frame and it slid to the other side, accomplishing nothing. I held up a hoof before he could say anything and stomped around to the other side. He waited patiently for me to put it up properly this time.

Once the tent was up and pegged down against any wind gusts, we went inside. He set up his bedroll and I set up mine, on the opposite side of the tent from him. He had an amused look on his face the entire time. As he settled down he muttered, "Don't put any weapons on my head while I'm sleeping, I might just tie you up for a day just to make it official." I threw an entire hoof of pebbles at him.

The following day was uneventful. I was able to harvest the pods and we made our way back to the village and to the shaman's hut. As usual he was rummaging through things. By this time I knew he was covering up whatever secret things he was doing just prior to my arrival. I didn't care anymore, it was his business. I walked over to the storage jars and emptied the pods into them. I had been doing this for so long it was second nature to me. Bringing nature 'home'. My mind wandered as I contemplated what I was supposed to be doing these days. I needed to figure out how to breach bedrock. What skills did I have that could do that? In the past I used to track, to divine water, to stand up to bullies, to run fast. I faced dragons. I learned how to hone my skills in the Badlands. I learned to sew, identify plants. I even faced death, the cat version. What was I supposed to do now?

"I pick flowers now."

"Eh?" The shaman turned around and gazed at me.

"What am i..." I tried to formulate a question out of my thoughts. I must have been so worn out mentally that I couldn't think straight. My sleep schedule had been thrown off since I had started harvesting in the middle of my normal sleep cycle at high noon.

He responded, "What am i doing here?"

"That's not what i was asking."

"It should be." There was a twinkle in the shaman's eye. He was jerking me around again. I sat and crossed my forelegs.

"I should be finding out a way to get rid of those dragons from their cave, and don't give me that 'destroying their home won't bring back mine' crap. You agreed with me that finding a way to stop interaction between the dragons and everypony else is a good thing!"

The shaman nodded, then tilted his head, "A good priority. So you are getting back at the big red one, yes?"

I knew where he was going with this but I blurted it out anyway, "Because he is a bully!"

"Even bullies have priorities. What is important to them can be completely unseen by you, unless you take the time to understand them." Okay, maybe I didn't know where he was going with this. I was prepared to listen so I kept my mouth shut. He took the invitation and continued, taking a pair of tongs and pulling out a seed pod from a boiling cauldron sitting on the table, "For instance, take this seed pod, harvested from perfectly picked sunbursts. Step on it, crush it, nothing. Completely unimportant to you." He placed it on a plate and picked up a fork, moving it near the pod as he turned away, continuing, "Boil it, poke it...." As soon as one of the fork tines pierced the pod there was a small explosion, ripping the plate apart. Once my ears stopped ringing, I could hear him saying, "BAM...now possibilities open up, windows of opportunity picked at the right time can make great changes. Don't you think?"

I stammered out, "I...I need those."

He grinned, "You need a lot of those. But I must warn you, they are dangerous to carry after they are boiled. Far more dangerous after they are boiled for several days." He rolled out two medium-sized barrels from the corner of his hut. "Far far more dangerous when tightly packed in barrels, say these for instance, with a special crush plate at the bottom loaded with metal nails, if one were to secure them to a rope from a tunnel ceiling and light the ropes. Well as you say...you need THESE," and thumped the barrels for emphasis.

I ground my teeth as it started to dawn on me. After a minute of us staring at each other I finally said, "You knew about the tunnel. You knew since the first day you had me picking those pods! Every time I came in and you were hiding them, it was for those barrels! How did you...no, the dragon..." I got cold chills. No, he wouldn't have told the dragon where I was.

"I did."

I stood up and started pacing, anger building. "Stop that! I wasn't thinking that just now! And we're not discussing my ability to lie, neither!" The shaman waited for me to calm down.

When I stopped pacing and sat again, he nodded and spoke, "I was on my own excursion when I came across the blue dragon. He felt different than the others, plus he was alone, and not breathing fire on me. I figured he might need something. He did...you. More that he needed to speak to you. He told me what was done so far and I knew I could help but you were not ready mentally and we needed a lot more seed pods to accomplish the task." He walked up to me and crouched down, looking into my eyes. "I have no doubts you would have gone forth and accomplished what you needed to, and died all the same. After these past months, you now have a chance to live, to become more than you are, become what you were meant to be." I opened my mouth to speak but he covered it with his paw, "Shush, no more of this 'what am I' nonsense. Accept what is and look to the future. All other things will fall into place." He pulled away his paw and I nodded.

He stood up and gave me a gossamer pouch from his belt. When i looked inside, it was filled to bursting with cocoa beans. "Never forget where you came from. A home filled with love, trials and perseverance. All things have a purpose and meaning, even dragons." I started to object and he put his paw on my mouth again. Him and that damn paw. "I can't step in the path of a warrior on a mission. I can however ask you at least try to give them a chance to leave their den before drowning them?"

I stepped back away from his paw so I could finally get a word in. Before I could say anything, Velvet strode in, fully packed and ready to go. "Eight-Legged Express ready to pull out for Dragonsville." I groaned and shook my head.

I said, "Love has made you dumb, V." He cackled, scarily enough not unlike the shaman. I had a scary notion the two might be related. I dismissed the thought with several mental stabs and a burning at the stake. "Now if I can finally say something. Wait, are we going now? I can barely think straight." I looked at the shaman, "And you are acting like I'm never going to see you again, giving me gifts and..." I noticed that Velvet was also holding my backpack which I had left at his home prior to coming to the hut. "We really are leaving now, aren't we?"

The shaman moved over to a book and opened it to a page he had a bookmark on. "The summer solstice is in a few days. The dragon did not give us much time. And I believe on that day...your mentor will make a showing." My eyes widened.

"How do you know this?"

Velvet cleared his throat and said, "The other shamans in the outlying tribes observed the stars moving as well, an orientation in the skies unlike any seen in a thousand years. Your Mare in the Moon, it would seem." He eyed me warily, knowing I was obsessed with that legend. "If they say it is happening, so be it."

A thumping drew my attention as the shaman tapped the book, "A roundabout tale written and rewritten almost into obscurity, but it has the essence of what we have discussed so far. The stars aligning, unlocking, the moon seal undone, and then Her return. I am hoping you survive your endeavor to the east so you can meet your mentor, and perhaps assuage her anger. Only conflict and wars can come of the hatred of such a long imprisonment."

I looked to Velvet and only saw concern in his eyes. I spoke tentatively as I picked up my backpack at Velvet's side, "I can't promise anything. With how we've been treated over the years, the dragons assaulting us and no help from the north, the disdain most of the night races have felt from the other side...maybe a little conflict is a good thing." The shaman did not look convinced.

There was little more to be said, other than strained goodbyes and small attempts at humor. Hangnail and Ringtail saw us to the edge of the village, hugging us both. Ringtail stated, "Yours was the best death facing I've seen in a long time."

I groaned and replied, "You could have told me...something!"

She shook her head and said, "I told you what you needed to hear, and threw Velvet around enough so you could figure it out." Velvet snorted and Hangnail laughed, though all knew Velvet most likely allowed it to happen in the first place. I thanked her again and hugged her.

Before we left the shaman made one last showing, slipping a small vial into my hoof. It held a swirling iridescent blue liquid inside. "Haste potion," he remarked. "Only when you absolutely need it. You will know. Your speed is enough for most things local. This can get you cross country in moments." He eyed me. I started thinking about the dragons when he said, "Not that. Perhaps after."

I barely got out a smile and a thankyou before storming off, with Velvet finishing his goodbyes and catching up. As he finally came up alongside me, I asked, "Can he read minds or does he actually know magic?"

Velvet chuckled. "The way he goes on now and again, one would suspect he does. He observes and draws conclusions like no other I have ever met. Maybe no other." He glanced sidelong at me.

I shook my head and trudged onward, trying to forget how weary I felt, one barrel on my back while Velvet shouldered the other one. "You can forget me running around in a loincloth and poking other's butts with my hoof. I'm not that patient to be a shaman." Velvet laughed and agreed. The sun was descending behind us and we had a long way to go. So many things left to do. The dragons, Nightmare Moon...dealing with Princess Celestia possibly. My goals were clear. They were ahead of me. They were so far ahead of me, yet approaching ominously. I thought about using that vial many times on our trip to the den to shorten our journey, my impatience almost getting the best of me. But I didn't. Something told me that crafty old cat could read the future, could read me. Despite his admonishment of me questioning what I was, I still felt I had not found my place in the world.

And I had to wonder if in the next few days, the world would know what I was before I did.

Author's Notes:

This chapter took a while to put together due to lots of things iRL and in the story. In any case, there should be four more chapters before this arc is concluded, but everything I want to have happen is outlined and ready to go. Hope you enjoy.