Theo emerged from Sharp’s workshop to see the mob had finally decided that she was out of time. They weren’t keeping to the edge of the hill anymore, even though there was no sign of the sun in the sky. Only a gentle orange light, radiating slowly overhead. But nowhere close to actually touching them.

There was no sign of the village elder this time either, just angry faces lit by sputtering torchlight and covered by half-frozen, half-melted ice. “That’s it!” called a voice from the crowd, loud enough that the figure on her back started to stir. “She’s ours now, by right! To the sea for what she did to Winter Gale!”

Several voices shouted their agreement, and ponies began to crowd in around the airship, blocking off any chance of possible escape. Theo whimpered, backing up a few steps and spreading her wings defensively. Not that she knew how to use them—otherwise, they wouldn’t have needed an airship to begin with.

“I’m not going to let them do anything to you,” Sharp said. “Stay close to me. I have a plan.” Then he fumbled in his jacket, striding forward towards the angry villagers. “That would be a foolish plan ponies! Don’t you know about the dreaded hippogriff’s curse? All tremble before it—are you truly brave enough to face it alone?”

A few ponies in front of her looked uncomfortable, retreating a few steps. Most didn’t seem so easily intimidated. “What curse?” asked a mare near the front of the crowd, her mane mottled and swept back from many hours by the ocean. “She’s already taken away our livelihood! The docks are gone, at least one pony is dead. How much worse could it be?”

“Yeah!” someone else agreed. “No empty threats, Sharp. You’re lucky we don’t throw you into the sea! You’re a foreigner too.”

“When I signal, run,” he whispered. “Get on the ramp, then kick it down and start cutting the anchor lines. The Horizon is ready for a quick ascent.”

“What about you?” she whispered back, voice harsh and afraid. “I can’t leave you behind with these… primitives.”

“There’s a ladder right there, see? Don’t worry, I’m the best climbing earth pony you’ve ever met.” Then he strode forward. “It’s said that the hippogriffs once mastered the sea! They still do, so far south they fall off the world. Pony ships that don’t appease them are swallowed by the deep. Do you really want to invite their wrath here by stopping this one from leaving?”

“Yes,” the mare said, drawing a carving knife from its sheath. “Nothing says she has to make it to the sea. They won’t know if she doesn’t get wet.”

Shit.

But before the pony could get any closer, Sharp slammed his hoof down on the ground. There was a loud explosion, and ponies retreated in panic. A huge cloud of smoke billowed in front of him, separating them from the crowd and making them scream and retreat.

It would have to be enough. Theo ran, keeping her back as flat as possible so as not to dislodge her passenger. The pony on her back was certainly awake now, watching with a few sleepy noises as she made it up the ramp and onto the Horizon’s deck. A little like standing atop a London double-decker, except for the heavy metal apparatus with its various connections to the balloon and the helm. But she ignored all that.

“What’s going on?” Emerald asked, hugging her scarf a little tighter about her neck. “Why is everypony so mad?”

“Because they blame me,” she whispered, settling the pony down on a padded bench near the helm, before hurrying back to the boarding ramp.

Ponies were already trying to climb after her, waving a pointed trident and a few makeshift clubs. Theo took one look at the ramp, then found the lever holding it up. She kicked it, and there was a loud thump, along with a few moans of pain and shouts of anger.

She didn’t have time to think about how upset they would be. Sharp’s voice yelled from below. “Cut the lines, Summer! Get us up!”

She might not know the first thing about aeronautics, but she could see the two lines easily enough. They had been thrown haphazardly over the deck, about evenly apart. She charged right up to the first one, and slashed at it with her claws.

From below, ponies banged on the Horizon. Sometimes they hit metal, but mostly it was wood down there. Wood that couldn’t take a beating like this.

Finally the line snapped, and the nose of the ship went violently upward. Emerald squeaked in surprise, taking off and hovering in the air. A few bits of silverware and boxes that hadn’t been tied down went sliding past her, smashing through the rear-rail.

Her own claws dug deep gouges into the wood, holding her in place like a frightened cat. But there was still the other line. She didn’t know how to fly, so she jumped. Theo fell, spreading her wings uselessly along the way and flapping like a baby bird. She didn’t fly, didn’t even glide.

Then she smacked into the taught line, driving the air from her lungs. She coughed and spluttered, lowering her claw uselessly towards it. Nothing.

“Any minute now, Summer! We won’t be able to take off with more passengers!”

She grunted, then nipped at the line with her beak. It snapped violently, flinging her into the covered entrance to below decks hard enough to crack the thin wood. The Horizon surged suddenly up, so fast she was held to the bottom of the ship. If they had any unwanted passengers, she didn’t hear them scream when they fell.

Time passed—she couldn’t have said how much. Eventually she felt someone helping her down the steps of the door she’d smacked into, settling her into a comfortable bed beside a tiny coal stove. There was already a tiny figure there—Emerald.

This time she didn’t pull away. “Guess we’re… leaving Sleighsburg,” she said, her voice a little dazed. “First time ever, huh. You think we’ll see the Crystal Empire?”

“I… I think we might,” Theo muttered, before exhaustion overtook her and she thought no more.

Theo couldn’t have said how long she was asleep. The bed of blankets wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world she’d ever been, but the gentle rocking in the wind was relaxed enough. There was another warm shape asleep with her, and that helped. It was like a fluffy nest, high in the clouds.

The smell of something familiar roused her, and she blinked groggily into a sitting position. The windows on either side of the large interior space were amber with late afternoon sun. Guess that trip really took it out of me. “Tea is waiting,” Sharp said, his voice gentle. “You’ll feel better with something warm in your stomach, I promise.”

The Horizon took advantage of ponies’ quadrupedal anatomy to fit two floors into a cramped floorplan that would’ve only provided enough room for one on something humans had built. Theo rose from what looked like the master bed, past a tiny restroom to a kitchen and dining area with windows overlooking the sky.

For a few seconds she completely ignored the steaming tea on the table in front of her, and was instead totally overcome by vertigo. There was nothing but clouds out there, clouds and a sky that went on forever. This was nothing like riding on some 737, with its pressurized interior and glass that felt like it could stop a bullet. She reached out, touching one of her claws against it and looking out into the void. There was nothing out there but clouds, and far below, an ocean thickly frozen over and with regular glaciers.

“Here.” Sharp offered her a cup, which she took in her claws. “Drink it. I’ve seen that face before. You need it.”

She swallowed, realizing the concoction was herbal—chamomile and mint, if she guessed right. She sat down on one of the cushions, looking out over the sky. Somewhere below, the Horizon rumbled steadily, a mechanical hum that was at once quieter than any airplane she knew, but also less regular. I didn’t see any sails. That must be the engine. The stairwell went lower, broken by a door with a rubber gasket. Presumably that meant the engine level was open.

“We’re just… walking around at altitude. Don’t you need special training for that?”

“Earth ponies do,” he said, settling into the cushion across from her. “I’ve been flying as long as I’ve been working steel. But you don’t, and neither does Emerald. You’re built for this. Most pegasus cities are at altitude.”

She sipped the tea again, wanting to argue with him. But her stomach wasn’t weak, and it didn’t seem like she was having any trouble breathing, so maybe he was right. “You made it in,” she said. “Sorry it… took me so long to take off.”

He shrugged. “No worries, Summer. I knew you weren’t a native. We made it out, and that’s what counts. I’m gonna… miss that place, though. No way my next workshop will end up as nice.”

She wanted to say something comforting, but couldn’t find anything. He was clearly right. “If I was rich, I’d offer to buy you a new one. But I’m just a computer engineer. Working through winter pays pretty good, but not that good.”

“No worries, Summer. Finding another Traveler has always been the most important thing. I knew it might cost me.”

“Another?”

But before Sharp could answer, Emerald emerged from the open doorway, rubbing at her eyes. “Is there any more of that?”

“Yeah, Emerald.” He pushed a cup closer to the edge of the table. “It’s another day down to the Crystal Empire.” He didn’t meet her eyes again, or show any sign that he was going to listen to her.

Emerald climbed up into one of the empty chairs, sipping at her drink. She’d left her scarf hanging somewhere, because it wasn’t around her neck now. “That stuff I remember… did it really happen?”

“Afraid so,” Sharp answered.

“Yeah.” She drooped, ears plastered to her head. “It felt real.”

There was an awkward silence then—even with such an important question burning a hole in her mind, Theo stayed quiet. Her actions had gotten this child’s mother killed, even if she’d been pretty lousy by every measure she could think of. Emerald didn’t seem to want to look at her.

“But there’s some good news,” Sharp went on. “If you’re still interested, it turns out I am looking for an apprentice. If you still want the job, it’s yours.”

Theo could imagine the way Emerald would’ve responded to that offer yesterday, bouncing off the walls with delight. But now she only sipped at her tea, nodding thoughtfully. “Thanks, Sharp. I’ll… think about it. I’m not sure. Everything was so simple before, but now… now I don’t know about any of those old ideas. Maybe they were all wrong.”

He nodded. “I know what it’s like to lose somepony close to you. If you remember any other family, if there’s somewhere else you’d rather be, I can get you there. It’s the least I could do, after…” He cleared his throat. “Well, Sleighsburg may not be happy to see us again, but even if you want to go back there. It could be arranged.”

Emerald shook her head. “N-no, I… it wouldn’t be back there.” She got up, pushing her empty cup aside. “Can I go onto the top deck?”

“Sure, Emerald,” he answered. “Just stay away from the railing, and don’t try to fly. I know it seems slow, but the Horizon has endurance that no pony could dream of. And the propeller on her underside spins fast enough to really hurt anypony who gets too close, and send anypony who gets into the wake spinning out of control.”

“Really?” She tilted her head. “Pegasus ponies never fly around airships?”

“We stop them first,” he answered. “And we shouldn’t stop out here. There’s a storm behind us, maybe you can see it. The arctic is… disobedient. No weather crews to stop it. We’re trying to beat the snow to the Crystal Empire if we can.”

“What if we can’t?” Theo asked, eyes wandering back to the window. She could see it now, the dark shapes looming on the horizon behind them. Clouds so massive that they would’ve dwarfed whole mountains. The sky ahead of them was deceptively peaceful. But were they gaining ground on the storm, or losing it?

“Then we go up,” he said. “Drop all our ballast, and breathe spare air until the storm passes. Let’s just… hope it doesn’t, okay?”

Theo walked along the length of the ship, back towards the windows. It didn’t look like Sharp’s hopes would be coming true.