I’d never felt so cold and shivery! I experimented with blowing jets of steam out of my nose, as we descended the mountainside and the temperature dropped. I felt like a dragon doing it, sweeping down over the defenseless low country. We had left cloud-confined Pereine, and could now only guess at the great span of the land, by means of widespread landmarks: lonely windmills on the slopes to either side, misty copses of trees, a distant line of electrical pylons - all just small features of the undulating terrain. And on far off little hillocks there sat highly defensible farmhouses, with widows still alight against the foggy day.

In the distance to our left, dark pillars of rain fell. It felt like a deep breath in, this broad, uninterrupted view. It was hard to believe there was even more to see, concealed above the cream-thick cloud cover.

Our guide, the little mare Perigee, was quiet, and it sometimes felt as if Wile and I were alone, on a self-guided tour. I guessed she was still in considerable shock, and I wasn't about to press her. Whatever her reasons, she offered us no new information about the Shy, or herself. Still I was grateful that, as Keats had arranged, she would still guide us out to the old alchemist’s house, and so have Wile and I for her escort.

The further off we got from cloudy, pillaring Pereine, and the more its architectural features fell out of focus, the more it started to look, not like a pegasus ruin, but like a pillar of natural, miraculous cloud, brushed with direct sunlight – a great subject for the landscape painters of the Shy! Its whole cloudy mass was sort of nested into the middle of the mountain, so that it now seemed to have gusted and billowed out as if from inside, like the ash from an active volcano. This meant it would be impossible, at least, for us to lose our way back.

Underhoof, the grass was dry as hay. The wind blew mildly by. “It seems so peaceful here,” I said.

“Well, you know,” Wile said. “The meek shall inherit Equestria. I guess peace is what you get from a small population of ponies, minding their own business and laying low. By no means is it friendly here (for instance, you’re liable to get shot, approaching any one of those farmhouses). But yes, it’s peaceful.”

“It’s all about mindset too,” Wile added, after we’d left a long, unsuccessful pause to prompt Perigee to give her take. “If we were in the south, I guarantee that at least one of these farmers would have said to himself: you know what, I’m a great stallion: I should own most, if not all, of these other ponies' farms. And we’d have all kinds of strife, because of his ambition. Here in the north instead, no one seems to ever think of it...”

“It must not be in our nature to,” I said. “As ponies. They’re probably just being badly trained, somehow, in the south. Taught to do things against their better nature.”

“You can say that again,” Wile nodded.

“You give too much credit to the ponies of the Shy.” This time, it was Perigee speaking, and we both pricked our ears her way. “There’s a lot of cruelty here. Inside houses. Within families. It’s just more private – not more peaceful.”

She had spoken. She was continuing to speak! “And I believe it’s worse our way,” she said. “A husband striking his wife in their own home, repeatedly, is far more perverse than one group of strangers attacking another over a supply of clean water in the south. Incestual child abuse is far more perverse than a raider’s desire, even at the depths of his depravity. These households aren’t peaceful, no.”

I was uncomfortable now, and felt we had offended her somehow. At last, Wile said: “I understand what you mean. You could never hurt a stranger as much as you could your family and friends.”

And at that, for the first time in a long time, I thought of my father. More like a giant out of some dream, than a pony I’d really known. The stallion who had carried me on his back, and hung his huge, kind face over mine like Celestia’s sun. What had killed him in the end, if not my mother’s illness and death? And what pain could a stranger ever have caused him that would compare, compelling him to take his own life? Meanwhile, all a pony he dearly loved had had to do was leave, and it happened. So high was her capacity to hurt him.

“You can’t betray the trust of a stranger,” Perigee said. “In the south there’s less trust, and so less pain.”

“I never thought of it that way,” said Wile. “I guess it’s more like nature, the killing in the south. Like an eagle catches a hare up off a field. Less personal. And less about trust. Whereas what you’ve described in the farmhouses here, well... it isn’t natural.”

“It isn’t natural,” Perigee agreed. “Celestia alone knows how sorely they’ll be punished for it.”

“Uh, could you... explain that part to me?” Wile asked. “About Celestia. So, she can see what we do, and she also punishes us for it? I mean you don’t believe she’s still, well, sending ponies to the moon like she did her sister, do you?”

“I find it helpful to think of it this way,” I said, chiming in. “Celestia didn’t send Luna to the moon. Luna had put herself there already, in her heart. At that distance. At that lifeless a place, already.”

“Our punishment is to be outside of Celestia’s presence,” said Perigee. “Out of the presence of light, and love. And yes, we put ourselves there. So, while a precious few still walk the wasteland with their hearts poured full of Celestia’s light, as glad as if it were Ponyville again - most walk in darkness, unable to be with her. Just by their nature, or their choices, unable.”

“So, let’s say I’m with a friend,” Wile said. “And we’re happy, and our consciences are clear... you would say that means Celestia’s close to us?” I nodded, gladly. “And if I’m alone instead, cursing an enemy or nursing my grievances...”

“Then you’re on the moon, effectively,” I said. “You’ve chosen your grievances, over Celestia’s light.”

“So then it’s moment to moment,” said Wile. “It's happening right now.”

“And changing all the time,” I said, and she paused to think. It felt good to be telling her about this. Intense, almost. I felt my tongue at the back of my teeth, and the tips of my ears pricking up. I felt pulled into the moment, and my clothes, the clouds, the grass, the distant pylons: all seemed to hold some kind of static charge.

“And how am I supposed to get back to her?” asked Wile. “If it turns out that I am like Luna, on the moon.”

“Well,” I said, winking. “If you remember the story, that’s where the ministers come in...”

“I see,” said Wile, stopping again to think. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of the, uh, literature on all this, would you? Of course, I’m only asking for a friend...”

I was glad she asked, although I had no books of course. The best I could do then was recite for her some of what I’d read in the Stable, which I did: a letter that our walk down the mountainside had reminded me of.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I am happy to report that the dragon has departed our fair country, and that it was my good friend Fluttershy who convinced him to go. This adventure has taught me to never lose faith in your friends. They can be an amazing source of strength, and can help you overcome even your greatest fears.

Always your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

We walked for quiet hours, sometimes discussing the letters, until we ran afoul of some timberwolves as evening fell. Low, slouching creatures that rushed down on us from over a darkened hill, clacking along like oars as they ran. But with her rifle, Wile was able to dispatch them easily. I took it she’d done this often, hunting alone on the Shy. Now we were all three of us sitting around a fire she had started, and continued to feed, with the remains of their woody bodies. I was scared of the timberwolves at first, of course, but felt much more comfortable now. Well taken care of with a blanket around me, and Wile’s bottle of bourbon to lean on.

Under its effects, I felt especially impressed by the ponies I was traveling with. Wile, preparing pancakes for us even now, was so thoroughly competent, while Perigee seemed so resolved and smart. And the best part was that I didn’t feel worse off for it. In fact, I felt improved. Because wasn’t I a part of their team ? Weren’t we like numbers that added up? So, so what if my number was lower than theirs? I sat by observing them, tipsily, and knew how Rainbow Dash must have felt, half asleep on a cloud on a humid day. Was this what Perigee meant earlier? Poured full of light. As glad as if it were Ponyville again.

The fire seemed to play deeply in her eyes now. She, however, didn’t look very happy. “Say, Perigee,” I said, articulating quite a lot with my body. “Who’s your favorite minister, if you had to choose?”

“Hm?” she turned to me. And I felt like a wafting gas, she looked so solid. And I don’t mean to say heavy or dense, for she was light, I just mean poised and firm: like pegasus architecture. Or the ruins of it.

“Who's your favorite minister?” I asked again. “I would guess Fluttershy. I mean, you must really have wanted to visit Fluttershy’s Lament, to come there in disguise.” There was a clatter of pans from Wile at this, and I realized I was verging on difficult territory. Of course, in the end, Perigee’s last disguise had failed her.

“I went often,” Perigee said, unbothered. “Yes, I think about Fluttershy most. And I believe the minister you think about most is the one whose help you most need. The one you most need interceding, in your life.”

“You need her intercession?” I said. “You don’t seem unkind to me.”

“I seem to find it difficult to forgive,” she said, simply.

I realized I shouldn’t speak at this; in case I spoke carelessly. Over the eastern horizon, Luna’s moon was a little less than half full, and hung like a lonely sail on the first, overlapping blue waves of the night. Thank goodness for Luna, who had failed, and who had borne guilt and shame, like all of us here below. It seemed so suitable that she should govern the night, which unfurrows our worried brows and renews us - which teaches us in dreams, and prepares us for another start.

“I should tell you both about this travelling companion I used to have.” Wile had appeared with our pancakes, and laid us a kind of table on the ground. She took the bottle of bourbon from me, and poured some into a tin mug for herself and Perigee. It seemed she had an aggressive strategy to alter the mood around the fire. “He was a Brahmin, this companion of mine,” she said. “And that’s a cow with two heads, in case you didn’t know.”

“Ah,” I said, just going with it. “One on either end or. . .”

“Two in the front,” said Wile. “At least, that’s how I usually see them distributed.” Behind her, Perigee was sniffing suspiciously at the bourbon. “But that doesn’t matter,” Wile said. “Back to this companion of mine. He was a Brahmin, named Bodacious, and see: one of his heads was dead.”

“What, you mean it just hung there?” I asked.

“And how,” Wile nodded. “It was like, you know, how sometimes one twin in utero sort of absorbs the other one. Well, I guess that’s sort of what had happened here, with his heads. One of them was just... not alive.”

“Twins in a what?” I asked.

Wile sighed. “Here, look. Let me borrow your blanket for a minute.” She took it off me, and moved over to sit next to Perigee, asking her: “Would you mind if I put this blanket over us?”

“Well, it’s a little small,” Perigee said, for the first time seeming perturbed. I could see she had leaned a hair’s breadth away from Wile, and she seemed to be already blushing from the warming bourbon.

“Just for a quick demonstration,” Wile said. “Bear with me.” Next, she draped the blanket over both of their backs, and gathered it close so that theirs two heads were all that showed out from underneath it. “Look,” she said to me. “Like this.” And with that she let her head fall limply forward. “See: I’m the dead one.”

“My condolences,” I said, and heard a faint laugh from Perigee, albeit just a little breath escaping.

“So, this is what Bodacious looked like,” Wile said, still hanging her head. “We used to travel with him, and had done for some time. And he was a cow, right? So, one night when we were bored, just as a joke, well... we tipped him.”

“How much?” I asked.

“How much?” Wile repeated. “What do you mean how much. All the way. One hundred percent.”

“That’s a good tip,” I said.

“But here’s the eerie part,” said Wile, and raised her head. “He’d hit the ground hard, after we tipped him over. And when he got up: his consciousness had somehow moved over into the dead head instead.” At this she whispered to Perigee, who obediently let her head hang limply forward. “So you see,” said Wile. “That which had been dead was now alive, and vice versa. Bodacious’ heads had miraculously switched.”

“This isn’t possible,” I said. “He had the same personality?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Wile.

“That’s just not possible,” I said.

“Well, you recited another letter to me earlier,” Wile said. “Hm, now let me see if I can remember it...” And of course, she remembered it word for word:

“I am happy to report that I now realize there are wonderful things in this world you just can't explain, but that doesn't necessarily make them any less true. It just means you have to choose to believe in them. And sometimes it takes a friend to show you the way.”

“This is total sacrilege,” I said. “Perigee, tell her.” But Perigee was still hanging upside down.

“Ah,” said Wile, checking on her. “She’s fallen asleep.”

In the morning, some geese had made landing around our campsite, and were waddling around like large, long-spouted kettles. Their webbed feet were slicked wet just from the dew on the grass. I woke to find that Wile had already packed, and was sitting up with her rifle. I vaguely remembered falling asleep, speaking to her, and I wondered if she’d slept. The remains of the timberwolves were all charred and wet.

“Oats there in front of you,” Wile said. And it was true: in a pan, hot oats with slices of apple.

“You’re fattening us up,” I said, without hesitating of course, to start on the sugary oats.

“You want me to bag us one of these geese?” she asked. “For later?”

I looked around at the honking, cockeyed geese, and I felt quite queenly and important, being deferred to for this decision. “No,” I said, with gravity. “Spare them.”

Wile nodded. “Perigee’s just gone over the hill to wash and dress her burns,” she said. “I guess she’s a little shy after all.”

“Are you gossiping?” I asked, smiling.

“Can’t help being curious about her.” She shrugged. “She seems so untouchable, and I’ve always wanted to be that way. The kind that could endure torture. You know, like, what could you do to hurt her? If you can take her wings from her and she just moves on, what can you do?”

“Well, we don’t know what she’s feeling,” I said.

“That’s just it,” said Wile. “I feel like an open book, compared to her. And with big letters too.”

“I prefer an open book,” I said, nibbling on one of the slices of apple.

Wile’s ears perked up at this. She looked at me strangely for a moment, or at the slice of apple, then cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Of course, naturally you do.”

Perigee returned from over the hill then, with the stubs of her wings cleanly dressed. She had a funny little squabble with one of the geese, where it wasn’t clear which side she should pass around it on. At last, frustrated, it flapped its wide wings at her and she skipped down to our campsite in a hurry.

“You see: with us, the excitement never ends,” Wile said, smiling at her.

And I was surprised to see her smile back, still with her head down: the same kind of low, droopy eyed smile that Fluttershy might briefly have let show, in passing. I was starting to notice a pattern: the more familiarly Wile spoke to her, as in the more she joked with or teased her, the more shy Perigee seemed to become. Meanwhile in silent travel, or more serious discussion, she seemed instead to have a towering self-possession that made the two of us feel shy. In fact, because of these alternations in the little mare’s posture, it was hard to say whether she was actually taller or shorter than me.

“I did have fun,” she said to Wile. “Last night, I mean. In fact, I think I learned something.” We didn’t speak at this, but waited for her. “Just that: it’s one thing to follow Celestia’s laws,” she said. “To be obedient, and to love your fellow ponies obediently. But there’s supposed to be more to it than that. We’re supposed to enjoy it.”

“I would assume she wants us to be happy,” Wile said, nodding.

“But I always thought it should be serious and difficult,” said Perigee. “That I should struggle, for their sake. Or kneel under the falls at Fluttershy’s Lament, working up tears. When actually, it shouldn’t need to be sad, or hard work at all. Not if loving them is easy, and being most like them means being thankful and happy. When grief is heavy, and laughter is light.”

“It’s strange to admit it,” she continued. “But if it weren’t for the drink you gave me last night, I don’t know if I would have been open to all this. It was so immediate. It just seemed to lift me up a bit off the ground, so I could look down on things more clearly. And I saw you, and saw that I was glad to be with you. And saw that that was good.”

“And that’s why I wanted to ask you,” she added. “If I could come with you two. In the longer term, I mean.”

And for some reason she and Wile both looked at me, waiting. “You mean, you don’t want to go home?” I asked.

“I’m not a part of any of the households of the Shy,” she said. “In the winters I live where I can, off of what I’ve earned from the summer and fall’s day labor - all usually done for masters who take liberties, and overexert their workers. You may not realize it, but what you two have between you is very rare. I’ve felt more like I’ve been welcomed into a home here with you, than ever I felt welcome in the Shy’s splendorous houses.”

“Have you been told what we’re here for?” Wile asked.

“The alchemist’s potion,” Perigee said. “That gives flight to the flightless. To increase the free pegasi’s fighting numbers. Yes, I’ll still lead you to him. I’m asking now if I can stay with you, after that.”

“Well, it may be dangerous,” Wile said.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll enjoy it. Or, I hope to try.”

I nodded at this. Weren’t all the victories that the six ministers won, over Nightmare Moon, over the dragon on the mountain, more or less just side effects of them enjoying themselves?

“I mean,” I started. “Not that it was ever in question: but of course, you can come with us. Of course.”

And her smile then was as faint as a butterfly’s wing, but just as lovely to see passing.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Pathfinder: 25% reduction in travel time on the world map