Every head turns upwards not from an earth shattering kaboom or a giant flash of light but from the subtle shift of the sun as it disappears above the clouds. Not because the sun is moving up, of course, even though Princess Celestia is observing this once-in-a-century (or, because this is Ponyville, once in a decade) storm from the relative safety of her castle. But because the clouds are thickening, the thin layer the pegasi had been flattening swelling like an inflatable mattress into a stories-tall monstrosity.

A few pegasi take ineffectual swipes at the mass, pulling away great hunks of cloud that quickly fill right back in. They might have, if they made a concerted joint effort, been able to punch a tunnel through the rapidly expanding layer. But between the sudden arrival, and panic setting in and plunging morale? As soon as one pegasi backs off they all do, booking it before being enveloped, nopony daring to continue attempting to break through.

The once stark black clouds slowly lighten as they lower, leaving Rarity muttering the shades under her breath. “Charcoal, shadow, iron…”

“Doug,” Rainbow Dash says pointedly, not having moved from her spot next to him and Rarity. Not because she couldn’t make it out but because she wouldn’t abandon her herdmates, and she wants to conserve her strength. Plus, in a rescue situation, which this quickly looks like it will devolve into, they are best off staying calm, and staying put, together. “I’m blaming you for this.”

“Something between iron and anchor, steel, lava…”

“Yeah,” Doug snarks back, “I figured.” He glances upwards, trying to gauge the rate of closure and if they have a chance of making it to shelter. He might, and Rainbow certainly could, but Rarity would have needed to join them on a good number more of their jogs. Or not eaten as many fritters, but he's not going to tell her that. None of them had felt up to attempting the Running of the Leaves marathon, though he was quite close, despite Applejack’s insistence that she would slow down for them if’n they joined her.

As far as the eye can see the gray mass extends, even the barest hint of the horizon disappearing as the clouds sink. Rooftops are smothered first as ponies rush into houses, the translucent fog seeping through open windows and down chimneys.

“Pewter, a lovely shade of smoke, trout… no, that can’t be right, that’s getting darker, not-”

Rarity might have gotten up to fifty except for the clouds’ rude interruption. Or maybe she does; as soon as the fog covers her all Doug can hear is a muffled whisper. He can barely make out Rainbow’s hoof on his shoulder, much less the hand on Rarity’s flank. The fog feels like suspended soup, thick enough to gather with a spoon, and chills any spot of exposed flesh to which it clings.

“Hey, big guy?” Rainbow Dash says loudly, the flap of her wings pushing the fog away from her. It almost immediately surges back, and her repeated buffets barely keep it at bay. At least it appears to be slowing down; she soon has an egg shaped clear space around her and Doug. It lets them see each other, if barely, the light from above filtering through the airborne water. “You okay?”

The inflection in her voice lets Doug know that she isn’t panicking, not yet, but she’s fully prepared to pull out all the stops if he isn’t perfectly fine. “I’m good,” Doug says, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He hopes his nostrils and throat can filter out all the water he’s surely going to breath in, and resolves to keep his mouth shut as much as he can. “Rarity?’

An extra hard flap clears most of the fog from Rarity’s head. Her horn is lit, not that they could tell before, and she glances at them. Her body shakes from the cold and wetness sapping her precious heat. “Doug, would you say this is more of an abalone or alabaster?” She shakes her head at his confused stare, trying to loosen her damp mane and flinging droplets everywhere. “Oh, nevermind. You wouldn’t know.”

“I would say it’s changing too quickly to be worth arguing over,” Doug retorts. He strips off his jacket, holding it out for Rarity to take. His thin hairs barely keep the droplets from rolling down his body, and he’s thankful for wearing the pants he thought he might not need.

“Darling.” Rarity’s voice drips with condescension as her mane drips with condensation. “If we can’t agree on what color we are going to be buried in, then perhaps we need to see other ponies.” She turns her head up, rebuffing his offer.

“I don’t think we exactly have a choice in the matter,” Doug grits out. “What happens once it gets to white? Like your coat?” He glances at Rainbow Dash as if she might know.

Rainbow Dash shrugs while Rarity interjects, “My coat isn’t white, it is a very pale azu-”

The cloud reaches the color of Rarity’s coat before turning a shade lighter, now a stark white. All the droplets in the air simultaneously shift to snow while all the water clinging to coats and skin freezes into sheets of ice. The snow drops straight down, an all-pervading torrent that buries everypony and everything under six feet of fluffy white.

Doug finds himself entombed in a half-inch thick casket of ice. In normal circumstances, claustrophobia isn’t an issue for him; he remembers playing hide and seek and cramming himself into the smallest of spaces at the top of closets, or inside cabinets, and staying utterly still and quiet. But the sheer silence, especially after the ‘whump’ before? It’s one thing to choose to squeeze into something, and quite another when that isolation is forced on you.

Tensing muscles isn’t enough to break through; he wishes he could duplicate the image in his mind’s eye, shattering the icy cage with a husky flex. Moving entire limbs is enough to break through the sheet, if a poor substitute, though it takes more effort than he thought it would. He winces as jagged edges jab into him as he shifts, his movements made all the more cumbersome by the surrounding walls of snow. He wishes he had put his jacket on, though at least it kept his hand unfrozen, and methodically works to remove ice from his head and then the rest of his body. He forces himself to remain calm, knowing the others are counting on him.

It only takes a few brief movements for Doug to pop his head above the layer, arms and legs churning to pack more snow underneath him. He squints as blinding sunlight reflects off a pure white landscape, almost enough to make him duck back under. The only indication of the stacks of crates are minor lumps in an otherwise unbroken field.

Well, except for the pink blur zooming past. Pinkie Pie shouts, “Thirty!” as she passes Doug, zipping around town like it’s a Grand Prix on skis.

Rainbow Dash hovers just overhead, panting heavily. She has ice in her wings and on her coat, but she’s obviously used to worse attempts to buffet her around. She drops down as soon as he pops up, helping dig out the captive unicorn while simultaneously rubbing her wings and sloughing off flakes of ice.

Except, rather than locating a shuddering, whimpering ball of white, they run into a light blue aura of magic that slowly rises through the snow. The two exchange confused looks before they begin clearing the snow off the top of the bubble, and as soon as the aura fails to run into more snow it cancels, leaving a shivering Rarity looking up at them.

She winces at the bright sunlight, tugging her hat down to cover her eyes. “I don’t suppose I could get that jacket now?” Rarity offers Doug a conciliatory smile as she shivers. “A-and, I could use a hug.”

“Of course,” Doug says, wrapping the jacket around her barrel. She smiles softly in return as he pulls her close. The hairs of her barrel are encased in ice, and she rebuffs his attempt to remove them.

“They’ll melt,” Rarity forcefully states, more concerned with keeping her coat intact than the slim possibility of suffering from the cold. She winks at him, “Especially with you next to me, stud.”

Doug can’t help but chuckle, running his hand over her belly as best he can without tugging. Some of the larger chunks break off and fall down as Rarity settles down, several feet of fairly solid snow underneath her.

“Besides,” Rarity adds, “other ponies are going to need your help far more than me!”

“One hundred and seventy!” Pinkie Pie shouts as she passes Rarity.

Rainbow Dash laughs as she scans the blanket of white that now comprises the town. Certain landmarks, like the town hall or Carousel Boutique, still stand tall but for the snow drifts against them. Others, like the majority of the houses, are visible only as taller drifts. But everywhere ponies are surfacing out with the same idea, that they would be the ones digging out everypony and rescuing the town from certain frigid death. Yet as soon as they are counted, and hear the ever rising number, a certain somberness replaces the hurried fervor. They shake the ice off their coats, reorient themselves with the few visible landmarks close by, and resume their deliveries.

“Some days,” Rainbow Dash remarks as Pinkie Pie zooms by a few of the newcomers to the dazzling light, “I love this town.” Everypony seems undaunted by the prospect of performing Fall Wrap Up with an extra six feet of snow. And they know it’s six feet because Derpy lands, sticking her stick until it won’t go any deeper.

“Just some?” Doug asks cheerfully, ruffling Rainbow’s mane. She giggles, rubbing up against him and practically begging with all but words for him to run his hands through her wings.

“Alright, you got me,” Rainbow Dash says with a hearty chuckle. "I love this town."

“Rarity, you need anything from the Boutique?” Doug looks at the stack of crates next to them. He could probably liberate a few lids if needed. “I could send Rainbow, or make a pair of snowshoes.”

“Snowshoes?” Rarity asks curiously. “This I have to see. Is it some sort of human fashion with snow?”

“Fashion? Not quite.” Doug makes a large circle with his hands. “We wear big tennis racket sized shoes in order to walk on top of the snow. They basically distribute our weight over a large surface area so we don’t sink down.”

“Fascinating.” Rarity shakes herself, a good number of the ice shards on her flinging off into the snow. “That’s not exactly a common necessity here, but I imagine it gets a lot of use in Vanhoover, or for anypony venturing into the Frozen North. But, no, I do believe I will be alright.” She glances at Rainbow Dash. “Though I wouldn’t mind another scarf.”

And then, when Pinkie Pie accounts for the last of the ponies in Ponyville, and no traveling magicians are noted to have been wandering unaccounted through town, the weather pegasi begin congregating high above Rainbow Dash, unsure of what to do now that they have no weather to work on all day.

“Doug?” Rainbow Dash says before the first of the ponies show up and she has to start coordinating what they all will be doing.

“Yeah?” Doug replies as he sifts around the crates for their checklists. Fluttershy would be furious if any of her animal friends didn’t get their supplies, and that’s one pony he doesn’t want to see worried.

Rainbow Dash gives him a long look. “I hope you know what the weather is going to be tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Doug says, his eyes going wide. “I’ll, uh, whip something up once we get home.” He glances up at the dearth of clouds in the skies. “But I’m guessing it’s going to be sunny.”

“Starting the season off with a holiday?” Rainbow Dash smirks. “You’re my kind of weathercrafter.” That smirk turns into a wide, calculating grin. “Why didn’t I think of this before? Winter could always be coming with one easy step!”

Next Chapter: Ch. 109 - Winterheart Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 3 Minutes