The land seemed to float up sedately, but he knew his speed was deceptive. Still, from this vantage point, he could see the countryside spread out below him, rugged and beautiful.

Behind him, a broad, verdant plain stretched off into the distance. Ahead, the view was blocked by a range of snowcapped mountains that ran off to his right, where the plain gave way to forest. At the border between the two, he noticed a brief flash of light, and his breath caught as he saw a pair of parallel lines running arrow-straight in a cleared strip of land. Looking closely, he could see they continued towards him, past the edge of the wood. Is that a railroad? he thought. Maybe there are some familiar elements of civilization here. He followed it all the way past him and across to his left side, where it disappeared at the base of an imposing mountain spire that supported the fairy tale castle he had noted earlier.

The middle ground beneath him was covered by a patchwork of hills and fields that overflowed with a wide assortment of trees and differently colored plants. He could see some signs of cultivation, and he made out a small cluster of buildings by the railroad. He was currently above the far side of the fields, however, falling down to where the hills grew rough and forested as they built up into mountains. It looked like he was heading towards the top of one such hill, its grassy crown rising above the surrounding vegetation like a monk's tonsure.

He dropped further, and as the carpet of greenery below resolved into individual patches of trees and meadow, his perspective of the land crossed that unconscious line between looking down to looking out. With little time left, he quickly cleared the cabin, stowing his lunch and other loose items in the backpack at his feet. Secure in his flight harness, he braced for impact, gathering the foals in and holding them close to his chest. They squealed drowsily at this, squirming in his grasp. Another few seconds and he was below the treetops, the grassy clearing rushing up to meet him.

There was an instant of motion and noise as he was thrust against his seat – the foals lead weights atop him. The cockpit rocked briefly, and then was still. He glanced up to see where the parachute would fall, and was taken aback to see it still hanging above him. Without the weight of the glider, it continued to float serenely in the gentle breeze, like some giant nylon jellyfish.

Staring up at the scene, he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut, and it had nothing to do with the rough landing. Shouldn't that have woken me up? he thought, hands clammy as his heart pounded. His chest was sore where the foals lay, as well as where the harness had cut into him earlier. He could smell the wind. He could feel the warmth and the weight of the foals as they moved in his arms. This all feels so solid and real, but it can't be. Floating parachutes make no sense. These pegasi shouldn't be able to fly. Exploding rainbows are ludicrous. This whole thing is such a crazy mash-up of the familiar and the absurd.

He grunted in irritation. Sensical or not, whatever this... experience is, it's persistent. It's also proved it can be painful, so until I know what's going on, I should probably treat things seriously. Of course, that also means trying to make some sense out of this mess. Yeah. Good luck with that. He groused to himself.

There was a rustling thud to his right, and he looked over to see that the yellow mare had landed in the grass just beyond the shadow of the parachute. Noticing his gaze, she took a low stance, legs wide and pawing the ground aggressively, though she had an ear cocked quizzically at the parachute above.

She gestured pointedly with a forehoof, indicating first the foals and then the ground in front of her, while barking something curtly and flexing her wings for emphasis. He needed no translation to pick up that particular message.

He moved carefully, not wanting to provoke her, reaching over to bring the sleepily squirming foals out of the cockpit. Her eyes narrowed and her tail lashed as she watched them struggle, but she restrained herself with a visible effort.

Snick snick snick. They both jumped in surprise as a loose cluster of arrows sprouted from the ground between them. Thock. A polearm of some sort buried itself nearby. Another crash sounded somewhere behind him. He had only a moment to register an omnidirectional whistling before more impacts quickly drowned it out.

The mare’s eyes darted upwards and widened in alarm. She turned to run, but made it only about three paces before thwump thwump thwump thwump, she stumbled, crumpling to a boneless heap on the ground in mid-stride. A stove flattened a nearby bush at almost the same instant as a barbell sank deep into the ground. All around him, the implements of daily life plummeted down, the pock of flowerpots, crump of furniture and tinkle of cutlery merging into a single overwhelming cacophony as a perverse hailstorm threshed the land. The city is falling, he thought in horror.

The Swift was a small island of refuge at the center of a storm of chaos. Shielded by the parachute, from above came just the quiet blat of objects impacting cloud-padded nylon, followed by a soft fabric scree as they slid down the sides. A small ring built up around the edges of the parachute as deflected items accumulated. He hoped the sleeper was deep enough in the cloud to be safe from the surface impacts. The clouds themselves seemed to muffle the noise, as well, and it was somewhat odd to be assaulted by noise from all sides except for above.

Only a small handful of items penetrated the parachute – those sharp, fast or heavy enough to pierce the tough fabric and make it to the ground. He watched as a line of cutlery embedded themselves just to the side, and felt the frame rattle a couple of times from other unseen impacts. The Plexiglas cockpit added another layer of protection, though it did little to make the experience less nerve-wracking; he couldn’t see what was coming, let alone do anything about it. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the initial rolling crash of heavier objects gave way to the scattered pops, plinks and tinks of glassware and wood, before eventually tapering off to the slithering of fabric and rustling of parchment.

He had pulled the foals back in at the first sign of trouble, holding them close once more. They had been quiet during the debris storm itself, eyes wide and ears darting about rapidly. Now they began squirming again with renewed vigor. Well, there has to have been a finite amount of furnishings up there, he rationalized. Still, he waited just a little bit longer; until only a few frilly unmentionables were left fluttering down, and he was certain it was safe.

The foals complained as he reached out again and finally set them down, but they both perked up as they keyed in on their surroundings. He unstrapped his harness and clambered out after them, before reaching back to retrieve his backpack. He didn’t keep much in it when flying, but among the few necessities was a small first-aid kit. Pack in hand, he made his way over to the mare's slumped form.

She hadn’t made it far, which was a good thing. It was definitely a disaster zone out here, and walking was treacherous. Just about anything he could imagine lay scattered on the ground with various degrees of damage. Here lay a dented metal urn. To the side a pile of broken shards he guessed used to be dishware. A little ways away, though still too close for comfort, lay the hulk of a shattered piano, some bales of hay, and an anvil, of all things. In between everything, broken bits of foodstuffs and tangled items of clothing were strewn about liberally. The smell reminded him a bit of a farmers market or a sidewalk sale – a potpourri of old furnishings and fresh produce.

Though the wreckage was extensive, it was not too dense. He was also thankful to see that the one thing the debris did not contain was any other pegasi. Approaching the yellow mare, he knelt down cautiously. She lay on her side, legs outstretched, wings askew and splattered with various bits of pulped fruit and kicked-up dirt. A doughy brownish mass covered her temple and spilled down the back of her head, matting the fiery strands of her mane.

Concerned, he leaned in – looking closely, but careful not to touch. The substance was finely textured, and glistened wetly in the sunlight; he couldn’t readily place it. He blinked, and looked again. Are those nuts? Turning his attention away from her, he spotted several similar blobs scattered in the grass nearby. He pulled a small piece from one of the other blobs, and compared it critically to the material on her head – it looked the same. Bringing the piece to his face, it smelled decidedly culinary, and he risked a quick lick.

The doughy mass was... dough. Apparently she'd been knocked out by some errant unbaked goods. She's going to feel that in the morning, he thought. Still, aside from that, she's breathing steadily, if shallowly, and I don't see any cuts or blood. I doubt my first aid skills can help any, which is probably just as well, considering how seldom I've had to use them.

He stood up and stretched. Taking a step back, he peered up, scanning for approaching fliers. He didn't see any, but was not left wondering why – the cloud city had changed dramatically since he last looked. Though the total mass of clouds was much the same, marked differences had emerged among them.

Those parts nearest the blast were completely unrecognizable. About a quarter of the city had vanished or been reduced to shreds, whipped around and deformed into twisted streamers of mist, drifting away on the wind. By contrast, the furthest third seemed to be intact. From this perspective, he could see cloud spires hanging down like inverted skyscrapers. This section was a hive of activity, with pegasi streaming in and out, though they followed no pattern he could discern.

In the middle was a zone where the mass of cloud remained, but those spires and other architectural forms he had noted were fast melting away. It was like watching a sand castle dissolve as the tide crept in, or a picture going slowly out of focus. It was hard to tell from here, but he could see pegasi darting in and around these clouds, engaged in a variety of activities. Some were just burrowing into the clouds directly, while others seemed to be shaping them or moving them around. What an amazing ability. I saw them touching clouds before, but this takes it to a whole new level. They remind me of some of the disaster programs I've seen – I hope they have good luck. I can't see how being stuck inside a melting cloud would be all that dangerous, though, compared to a collapsing building, but it's probably not all that pleasant, either.

As he watched, the swarm of activity increased in pace. It looks like they're starting to make some progress, despite how bad it is. I have no idea how they are organized, but I don't see any heading out this way yet. I imagine it's just a matter of time, though.

He checked his phone – no signal. I wish I could say I was surprised. He sighed. What now? Kind of a crazy problem to have, but after that insane, hair-raising flight, I have no idea what to do next. Sure, it's a relief to be on the ground, even if I'm not so sure exactly where this ground is. Now that I'm down here, though, I can't really do all that much until I make contact with the local authorities, and they haven't put in an appearance yet, he thought, eyeing the mare. I hope.

So what can I do besides wait? he continued, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down a bit. He could feel the sunlight, warm on his face in pleasant contrast to cool fingers of air as a breeze built. It tousled his hair and rustled the leaves in the trees, raising a soft susurration accompanied by birdcalls and the faint buzz of insects. He breathed deeply, taking in the pure air, fresh with the scent of trees and grass. It was peaceful and quiet. Too quiet.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked around frantically. Where are they? Among the varied pieces of debris, it took him a moment to spot the orange and teal figures as they darted across the clearing. The pair of intrepid explorers was almost at the treeline. They're just as bad as me and my brothers were.

"Wait, don't go in there! It could be dangerous!" He cried out, launching into pursuit. He might as well have tried to talk a boulder uphill; a turned ear was the only sign that they had even heard him.

Glass and other things crunched and popped underfoot as he tried to run, and he had to catch himself several times, as his feet repeatedly caught on or slipped in the varied debris. He had never been so grateful for his sturdy hiking boots, but even with them, he was far too slow. The foals had a big lead, and he was only halfway to the edge of the clearing when they disappeared into the forest gloom.

The two little pegasi had found a spot where the ground dipped down, creating a gap in the solid line of bushy undergrowth that ringed the grass. Reaching the treeline, he barreled on after them, trusting his tough flight jacket to ward off the branches.

The weak foliage offered no resistance. Several strides later, neither did the ground. His seeking foot found only air, and he cried out as he found himself falling forward, arms flailing wildly. A lucky grab found a low-hanging branch, and he hung on with desperate strength, while his feet scrambled for purchase as he fell.

His feet found sliding, crumbling support, but it dropped him further and further, until the branch let go with a dry crack. He stumbled forward, clutching the broken stick and trying to check his momentum on a steep slope of loose, shifting earth. Instead of slowing him, the disturbed ground began to move as well, flowing into what quickly developed into a steep gully. He managed perhaps half a dozen more precarious steps before finally losing his balance and falling back into the small river of earth.

It was dark, moving, loud and choking – a disorienting tempest of grit. He couldn't say how long or how far he rode atop the slide, but it seemed an eternity before it suddenly ceased. Ow. He lay there a moment as the last few stones rattled to a halt around him, before sitting up, coughing. A clean breeze blew from above, and he looked up to see the foals hovering overhead, giggling cherubically. Breathing as deeply as he could, he slowly counted to ten. They're just kids, they don't know any better, he repeated to himself.

As the air cleared, he could see how the slope had leveled out – robbing the slide of momentum, and leaving him sitting in a small fantail of gravel. He took a brief inventory, flexing experimentally. Okay, that definitely hurts, but it looks like it's just abrasions and bruises. I can be grateful I managed to avoid getting any cuts, breaks, or sprains. I'll have to do something about all the dirt I've got on my pockets and shoes, now, though. He let out an exasperated sigh as he gingerly levered himself to his feet.

First things first, he thought, as he stalked over to a large rock nearby, sat down, and proceeded to methodically rid his shoes and pockets of their brand-new dirt collection. The colt seemed to find this fascinating and hovered around inquisitively, poking at the various articles of clothing and sifting through the piles of dirt with his hooves.

He shrugged off the colt’s attention, focusing on his belongings instead. I'm lucky it looks like my smartphone is okay, and I didn't lose my keys or wallet. Next, he swung his backpack around and opened it carefully. First out was the first aid kit, then the lunchbox. As it emerged, the teal filly squeaked in interest and pushed in closer, laying her chin on his knee and looking up at him while her brother sat back, bemused.

Again? He huffed and put the box aside. Once is enough! Ears drooped, and big silver eyes looked up at him mournfully. Oh, that just isn't playing fair! … Fine. Diverted, he rummaged through his shrinking supply of food once more. He doubted they were after the water bottle, his applesauce was an empty husk, and the spare ribs were unthinkable. Celery sticks were his only option. He offered up his meager tribute, earning him another round of puppy dog eyes. “Sorry little miss,” he chuckled, “but that’s the best I can do.” She waited hopefully for just a little bit longer, and then daintily accepted when nothing else was forthcoming. Meanwhile, her brother had come up curiously, and seemed happy enough with his share.

The two pegasi happily chomping away, he put the lunch box aside and continued on to his original goal. A certain black plastic case was now in reach, and he relaxed incrementally when he pulled it out and saw the cover was scuffed but not damaged. Opening it, he saw the case had done its job – the screen was intact, and his tablet lit up at a touch. At least something’s gone right, he thought.

Since he was already half unpacked, he quickly ran through the other pockets to check what else he had to work with. His worldly possessions now consisted of a Swiss army knife, a wall-wart for the tablet, a nearly-new LED flashlight, a half-empty packet of tissues, some writing utensils and a tattered notepad.

The duo had almost demolished their snack, so he hastily replaced everything and got up, stepping back towards the hill as his mind raced.

It was such a simple plan. ‘Stay in one place’ should be pretty hard to screw up, right? If I had, it would have been straightforward to contact the local authorities when they showed up. Best not to think of it, he sighed. I am where I am, and dwelling on the past won't do anything to change the current predicament. And now that I've just effectively disappeared with the foals? Well, I know how that would play out back home. Whatever else I do, I have to make absolutely certain I return them safely.

Given that, how can I make contact now? They'll undoubtedly go investigate the glider, but that means I'll have to either get back up to it, or signal them from here. Assuming I'm stuck down here, what options do I have for signalling? Cell phones are out, and I don't have any of the traditional signaling gear like a flare guns, mirrors, rescue whistles or firestarters. My jacket is a bright red, but I'll have to get out from under this tree cover if I want to be seen.

Can I get back up to the glider? The hill in front of him was steep, and the bushes that blanketed the bottom slopes were tough and thorny. The sandy gully he had come down was clear, but the footing was loose and treacherous. After a few fruitless attempts, he decided to circle around the hill, in search of an easier route up.

Fortunately, here at the base of the hill the tree canopy was thick and the underbrush sparse, so he had little trouble forging a path. Plus, now that he was out exploring with them, the foals seemed to find him interesting enough to follow around. After the way they’d ran off before, though, he was now careful to always keep them in sight. Thus, the trek progressed smoothly, though with frustratingly little progress.

Frustrating didn’t necessarily equate to boring, however. Mere minutes after setting out, he ran across a few plates had somehow come down intact, and he inspected the artwork on them with some interest. The designs reminded him of classical Greece, though the main artistic themes seemed to be weather and plants. They're pretty enough, I suppose, but they won't help me any.

Further on, he came across a sword jutting out from the ground. It had an oddly shaped grip, but he was still able to pull it out easily enough. He turned it over in his hands. It was sharpened on one side and appeared to be made of good quality metal. The hilt was thin and flat, with a crescent of indentations. Did they grip with their mouths? That might work, but being able to focus on something while swinging one's head would be difficult. Huh. Interesting and possibly a useful thing to have, but I don't want to give the wrong impression,, he thought, returning the sword to the ground.

A bit further along and he spotted a magazine draped over a bush, with a familiar looking yellow mare on the cover. Looks like they have some mastery of photography and printing, he mused. The scene was at the seashore, with the mare lounging on a cloud of mist from the crashing surf. Odd. She's wearing a swimsuit in the picture. True, I ran into her in the bath, but I don't remember seeing any of the other pegasi wearing any clothing. He leafed through a few more pages, examining the writing closely as well. The symbols are unfamiliar, but there's a level of repetition that suggests it's an alphabet, and not pictograms. With enough time, I might be able to learn something, he thought. Conveniently, there were also many other pictures, though most were quite similar to the first.

An insistent tugging at his pant leg brought him back to the present. He looked down to see the orange foal looking back up at him, stamping his hoof and swishing his tail. The teal filly had already walked a little ways ahead. ”All right, all right, I’m coming!” He said, hurriedly. I might as well take this one along, he thought, tucking it into his backpack. Perhaps he could learn something from it later.

Looking back up, he noticed the forest ahead was a little bit lighter, and he pressed on to what turned out to be a gap in the trees. Here the forest opened onto to a large clearing, and he hastily ducked down when he spotted structures standing in it. Watching quietly, he had to bite back an exclamation as the foals raced past him and into the sunlight.

The field was a wide expanse of grass, dotted with stumps and saplings that surrounded a small bare patch next to the hill. This part of the hill was solid stone, with some sort of opening in it. The two structures he could see were in bad shape – even from here it was obvious the roof of one had caved in.

Emboldened, he rose out of concealment and strode into the clearing after the two. He felt terribly exposed in the open expanse, but that was kind of the point. Regardless, nothing stirred at their approach.

There were two buildings still standing, plus the rubble of a third. The nearest was the one with half a roof – a log cabin. The door was unlocked, but he still had to wrench it open against frozen hinges. The interior was a complete wreck; exposed by the open roof, the contents had long fallen to pieces.

The one thing that stood out was a bright piece of apparel hanging from the stub of a roof beam. Its vivid colors stood in stark contrast to the drab interior, and it sparkled in the late morning light. The simple form, padding, and straps looked oddly familiar, but even knowing the inhabitants here, it took him a moment to place it. I'm no equestrian, but that looks like a saddle. This is the first sign I've seen of any riders, though. Are there other humans here? It seems far too small, though, he thought. Adding to his confusion, on inspection he found it to be a frilly, delicate thing, made of satin and lace. Why make an obviously expensive saddle that couldn’t hold up to any sort of wear? Puzzled, he left it hanging there.

Moving on, the second building was a sturdy stone hut. It was basically intact, aside from the splintered door lying just inside the door frame. Other than that, however, the only thing of note was just how empty it was. Aside from the remnants of the door, the single room held only a few windblown leaves.

The clearing held little else; the fallen debris here were sparse, and the collapsed building had long decayed. He avoided the cave mouth completely – he had no desire to go spelunking, and didn’t want the foals getting any ideas. Returning to the center of the clearing, he mulled over everything he'd seen. There weren't any signs of recent habitation. In another decade or two, this place will probably have gone completely back to nature. Still, for now it's a good spot – I'll give it a shot.

He sat down cross-legged in front of the cabin, spreading his jacket out on the ground in front of him to catch attention. He was feeling a bit better than after the slide, but trail breaking was tiring and it was nice to rest. Here he faced the forest and could look up at the cloud city or watch the foals frolic. For being found, this was probably the next best option to still being at the Swift; he was visible from the air, and the structures should attract attention.

Of course that means I'll have to somehow stay in one place this time, he thought wryly, as he kept an eye on the antics of the two little pegasi. They had found a tall stump and were now dancing around it, stretching their wings and occasionally fluttering a little ways into the air.

Trying to restrain them would just be wrong, assuming I could even catch them. What about if I tired them out and hoped they fell asleep again? he thought, watching them tear around the stump a little longer. He chuckled. Yeah, it's pretty obvious who would be tiring out who if I tried that. What about a distraction, though? Bread and circuses worked for the Romans after all. Of course they've cleaned me out of bread, but we humans have brought circuses quite a long way in the last few hundred years, he thought, lips curling into a sly grin as he opened up his backpack and pulled out his tablet once more. With one eye on the tablet and the other the foals, he quickly darted through the screens, homing in on the shiniest, most distracting game he could think of.

Bright music filled the air as a sparkling array of colorful gems rained down, dancing to his touch and bursting into fanciful explosions of light and sound. All hail Bejeweled, destroyer of transit rides and conqueror of waiting rooms. He cranked the volume up and made a big show of focusing all his attention on it, while watching circumspectly as the foals' ears perked up. It wasn't long before they bounced over to investigate, eyes bright and tails flagged. He had a hard time keeping a straight face; it was clear they had never seen a device like this before. They took up positions next to him, leaning so far forward he thought they might fall over. He raised his elbow and they piled onto his lap.

At first they kept looking back and forth between the front and rear of the device, babbling to each other rapidly and gesturing animatedly. They weren’t too careful in their enthusiasm, and he had to lean back a bit after the first few wings to the face. The mystery of the screen soon faded, however, and they settled down and focused in on the game itself. For a time, they were entranced just watching him play, but it wasn't long before the orange one was nudging his arm meaningfully. He grinned, obligingly moving his hand aside while continuing to hold the tablet out for them.

The colt tried first. All hooves, wings and unbound eagerness, he quickly dove into the device. The little pegasus’s efforts immediately ran into trouble, however, as tapping hooves and brushing feathers failed to elicit a response. Soon the colt was whining in frustration, but he was nothing if not persistent. Looking back and forth between fingers, hooves and wings, he finally used his head – and it turns out the touch screen did respond to muzzles. Of course trying to control a touchpad via nose was hardly ideal. Oh, this is priceless, he thought, struggling to contain his laughter as the little colt practically went cross-eyed trying to use the device, and made many indignant little noises of frustration as it continually misinterpreted his inputs.

I have to give the little guy credit, though – despite everything, he's making slow but definite progress. Impressive ability, really, but the interface is definiately a barrier to the fingerless. They do seem to have come tricks around that, though, he thought, remembering all the various items that had fallen from the city. The sword in particular gave him a sudden idea, and moments later he was digging back into the pack, fishing around until he found a stylus he had mixed in with the pens. The foal’s eyes lit up as he presented it with a flourish, and from there the games began in earnest.

Though not quite as funny as nose-control, watching the foals go at it was entertaining. He found it fairly insightful as well. The two were very alert, and picked up the basic interactions quickly, keying in on what actions resulted in the most exciting sounds and animations. They also had a strong innate spatial sense, and were soon able to hone in on inconspicuous moves that cleared large areas of the field. Fortunately for his high score, neither of them were very good at planning ahead. They invariably went for the best move currently available, rather than making a few smaller moves to set up something big. What struck him more than their abilities, however, were their attitudes.

Squished next to each other in his lap, there was little of the squabbling he would have expected from human kids. Even more telling was how readily they traded off, and that after they both had a turn, they stared up at him until he made a move to play again. He didn't know how old they were, but in his experience, this sort of behavior didn't come readily to most kids. For that matter, more than a few adults still seem to struggle with the concept. These two, however, seemed to cooperate without any thought or hesitation. When he did take his turn, they watched closely, and he soon saw his tricks repeated. Before long, his engrossment was no pretense. Unfortunately, it also meant that the first sign of trouble was when his world exploded into pain-filled blackness.

Author's Notes:

Thanks to Kwakerjack for feedback and advice, JonOfEquestria for proofreading, and maskedferret for editing support and putting up with my glacial writing pace (thanks to all of you for putting up with that as well!).