Cinders drifted on furnace winds.

Rainbow Dash opened her left eye. The right was clotted shut and screamed its pain. Hot dirt ground against her face as she struggled in a futile attempt to rise to her hooves. Her body failed, broken far beyond the weakling punishments it had endured in the foalish crashes of her youth, and she flailed helplessly on the ground.

Stop. Stop. You’re panicking. She gasped for breath and nearly choked on the burning air. Its sear touch added another pain to the mosaic wracking her body. She coughed away the poisonous fumes before they could burn out her lungs.

Remember your training. Observe. She went limp and craned her head around. Thick clouds of smoke roiled above her and obscured the sun; the nearest of them felt hot enough to curl the hairs of her coat. The loud rampant rush of a blazing fire sounded somewhere close. Faintly, in the distance, a siren began to wail.

Orient. There’s been an accident. I’m hurt and I don’t know how I got here. I am in danger. Wonder Bolt’s safety training, the first thing drilled remorselessly into the heads of all new fliers, instantly leapt to her mind. No pony was allowed to fly with the team until they could recite the safety protocols and procedures backwards and forwards, under the most stressful situations the team could devise. Even now, feeling half dead, they were a clear and solid anchor against the chaos around her.

Decide. I need to get up. I need to try flying. I need to help anypony else who is hurt, and then I need to get out. The neat order of thoughts, almost like a flight plan, helped calm her racing heart. It was a checklist, and she could do checklists. Twilight loves checklists. The stray thought passed through her conscience without stopping, and she didn’t trouble herself with it.

Anyway, at that moment she could not have said who Twilight Sparkle was.

Act. She pushed herself onto her belly and struggled to draw in her limbs. One, her left foreleg, didn’t seem to be working the way it should. She ignored it for the moment and focused on the rest, and managed to lever herself into a wobbly stance. The ground around her was torn apart, raw earth exposed and scorched black by some unimaginable heat. A dozen feet away, smoke vomited from a shattered bunker door.

“Soarin?” she shouted. He was supposed to be here. She remembered him at her wingtip, just before... whatever had happened. Now there was nothing around her but smoke and chaos and pain and fear. Only the distant siren, still wailing its panic-song, gave any sign that she was on the training grounds, rather than dead in some hellish Tartarus.

She tried taking a step, and her foreleg collapsed, sending her stumbling back to the dirt. A wave of sickening pain radiated from the limb, and when she stood again it swung limply from an extra joint just above her knee. She stared at it, numb with incomprehension, then turned her scattered thoughts back to finding Soarin.

Observe...

Rainbow Dash jerked awake, the thin wool blanket sliding from her shoulders to pool on the floor. Sweat matted her mane and coat, and she felt her feathers standing on end, still reacting to the phantom pain of the dream. She clutched at the fibers of thought, but they drifted through her hooves and melted away. It had been that day again, but the details – only minutes ago as vivid as life – now vanished from her mind like fog in the morning sun.

She exhaled a quiet sigh and looked around. Pinkie’s room, bright with cheery pastels even in the dim morning light, stared back. Pinkie’s bed was empty, the pony herself presumably already up and preparing for the festival. Dash debated putting her head back down for a few more minutes of rest when a quiet rustle of cloth caught her ear. She turned to see Rarity lying on her own set of cushions, just a few feet away. The mare was wide awake and staring at her.

Dash swallowed to wet her parched throat. “Uh, hey. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Rarity said. Her voice was a whisper. “Are you alright? You were talking in your sleep.”

“Yeah, fine.” The answer was instant, thoughtless. She could have been bleeding to death, and still would have given that same response. “What, uh... what was I saying?”

Silence. Rarity’s face was a marble mask. “I couldn’t understand, I’m afraid,” she finally said.

Liar. Dash didn’t press the issue. She wasn’t sure what she would do with an answer, anyway. Instead she shrugged and set her head back on her forelegs. She might have snagged a few more winks had not Pinkie Pie chosen that moment to burst in the door.

“Girls! Wake up!” Her voice wasn’t quite a shout, but it shocked both of them to their hooves. “You’re late for the festival!” That said, she grabbed them both by their manes – Dash’s with her hooves and Rarity’s with her teeth – and dragged them out the door before Rarity could so much as squawk a protest.

“Pinkie.”

“Yes, Rarity?” Pinkie looked up from the table she was helping set. A red and white checkered tablecloth covered wood damp with morning mist. All around them ponies trundled about, setting out piles of vegetables and baked goods and treats still warm from the oven. Dash’s stomach rumbled at the sight of them, and she gravitated over to a table filled with muffins.

“We’re not late for the festival, Pinkie.” Rarity was not angry, but her tone left little doubt that she was annoyed.

“Oh.” Pinkie paused for a moment, a tray of caramel turtles with pecans for shells held just above the tablecloth. “I might have meant late for the festival set-up.”

“So, what do you need us to do?” Dash said. It was better to head Rarity off at the pass, before she got dramatic.

“Just start setting stuff out,” Pinkie said. She stopped her own work long enough to point at the empty tables around them. “The Cakes get all these tables. Why don’t you start a chocolate table?”

She could do that. Rarity mumbled something under her breath but nevertheless followed Dash the short way back to Sugarcube Corner to load up their cart with a small portion of the chocolatey treats waiting for them. Staring at the horde of food still before them, Dash began to appreciate Pinkie’s desire for an early start.

“So, enjoying Ponyville yet?” Dash asked. She made sure Rarity saw the grin on her face before grabbing another tray of chocolate. The cart was nearly full, and they hadn’t even started on the mountain of fudge.

“Oh, of course I am.” Rarity gave one of the chocolate statues a critical look, then carefully levitated it over to Dash. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to be hauling goods around this early in the morning. But it will be worth it for tonight, and of course it’s just fabulous to see Sweetie and all our friends again. But enough about me enjoying Ponyville; how about yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” She considered the amount of space still free in the cart, then tossed in a few more packages of chocolate to fill in the gaps. After a moment of silence from Rarity, she turned back to the unicorn, who was apparently expecting a more detailed answer. “I mean, you know, seeing everypony again and hanging out and stuff. It’s fun.”

“Just fun, dear?” The soft edge of trepidation in Rarity’s voice brought Dash up short. She paused, the cart’s tailgate held in her teeth, halfway closed.

What is this man she’s been acting weird lately. She shoved the tailgate shut and peered inside the cart, pretending to look for something while she thought of what to say. No answers waited amidst the chocolate.

“Yeah, you know. Fun and relaxing and all that stuff.” She pushed away from the rear of the cart and brushed past Rarity. “C’mon, we got, like, a million cupcakes to get loaded.”

After that, she and Rarity found different parts of the festival to help set up. It was just as well; while Rarity’s work ethic was second to none, she had a tendency to chatter endlessly and aimlessly, mostly on the topic of other ponies’ personal relationships. Dash wasn’t immune to such gossip, but for some reason she didn’t feel in the mood to discuss love and romance with Rarity just then.

And yet, some hours later when the sun approached its zenith and Rainbow Dash was putting the finishing touches on a table larded with every flavor of cupcake known to pony, she found herself missing that constant voice by her side. Airy and light and devious and bitingly witty. Traits she couldn’t have cared for less years ago, but after living with Soarin for so long, seemed as vital as the air beneath her wings.

She brushed these thoughts away. The skies were wide and empty, and pegasi accustomed to long stretches of solitude. Besides, there were tables to set up, and ponies expecting her to help.

Except there weren’t. She placed her last red velvet cupcake on the edge of the table, licked a bit of escaped frosting (delicious!) from her snout, and looked up to see ponies chatting quietly with each other. At least a hundred tables, weighed down with every imaginable food or dessert or drink, filled the Ponyville town square, and around them a hundred empty tables waited for friends and family to arrive. Above her, pegasi strung lines between the buildings to support decorations, and a large wagon loaded with bales of hay was making its way around the square, dropping its soft cargo off to serve as impromptu seats.

“Looks good, Dashie.” Pinkie’s voice caught her off-guard. She spun to see Pinkie nosing a few of the cupcakes around, apparently adding some order (or chaos, knowing her) to the layout. “Did Rarity help with this?”

“Huh? No, she, uh...” Dash looked around. Where had Rarity gone? For such a bright-coated unicorn, she was surprisingly easy to lose track of. “She was setting out bread, I think? You know, the ones with the frosting and fruit stuff.”

“The danishes,” Pinkie corrected, propping her forelegs on the table to scan around the square. “She was supposed to stay with you,” she added with a frown.

“Huh? Why?” Dash turned from her search for Rarity, but Pinkie was already gone. Off to sow more confusion, no doubt. Dash shook her head and set off to find her other friends.

Applejack was easy enough to find -- she stood in the center of a whirlwind of activity near the stage. Dozens of ponies, most with apples or apple-themed cutie marks, carried bushels of Sweet Apple Acres’ finest produce and arranged them for her critical eye. Dash threaded her way through the crowd until she stood at the eye of the storm.

“Hey AJ. Looks good.” It looked really good, in fact. Dash restrained herself from grabbing a few apples from the pile; Applejack did not believe in free samples.

“Well howdy, stranger.” Applejack turned to give her a quick smile, then called over to a tan stallion. “Caramel! Take over for a few, would ya?”

“It’s cool if you’re busy. I don’t wanna interrupt.” But she did, and her protest was half-hearted. Applejack ignored it and pulled her over to a stack of barrels rich with the scent of sweet cider.

“Nonsense. Anypony can carry apples. Besides, gives us a chance to catch up.” Unbidden, she grabbed a pair of empty flagons and filled them from a tapped barrel. The frothy cider spilled over the rims and splashed onto the dirt. “Here ya go. Feelin’ any better?”

“Thanks.” She took the cider and downed half of it in a single gulp. As good as she remembered. A moment later the rest of Applejack’s words registered. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Well, you know.” Applejack glanced off to the side, then took a long drink. “You seemed a bit tired the other night, sug.”

Dash shrugged. “Lotta travel, lately. Wears a pony out.”

“Right.” Her eyes flitted to Dash’s sides, then back to her face. Dash would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching. “Just checking.”

“Right,” Dash echoed. The look on Applejack’s face suggested Dash hadn’t managed to keep all the annoyance out of her voice. She ruffled her wings, suddenly uncomfortable. “Hey, is Fluttershy here? I was gonna go say hi to her.”

“She was helping Twilight with something. Books, maybe?” She sounded puzzled by the possibility of books at a festival, but they had all dealt with stranger things from Twilight in the past.

“Thanks. Oh, hey.” She turned back to Applejack. “Are you, uh, gonna be around later? You know, to talk?”

“Sure, sug. Anything in particular on your mind?”

“Oh, you know.” Dash gave a little shrug, fluttering her wings as she did. “Just stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff.”

Applejack finished off her cider, set it down, and gave Dash a long look. “Anytime you want. We’re always here for you.” She paused. “All of us.”

That brought a smile to Dash’s face. “I know. Hey, thanks for the cider.” She finished the rest of her glass and went off in search of Fluttershy.

The library table, or booth, or whatever it was being called sat on the far side of the town hall from Applejack’s massive display of produce. It was just as well, Dash reasoned; any closer and the combined excitement of apples and books might give the more delicate ponies fits.

Twilight Sparkle’s back was to Dash as she approached, a small constellation of literature in orbit around her head. While Dash watched, she selected a book from the cloud, floated it down to her table, and took a long look at it from several angles. The book apparently failed some test, as moments later it was back in the air, and Twilight was peering about for another. Most of the table was still empty, Dash noted.

“Hey Twilight,” Dash said. She stepped inside the circling books, ducking to avoid a particularly large tome on the history of astronomy. “This looks... fun?”

“Hi Dash.” Twilight turned to give her a small, brief smile. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. Which book should front the display? Ponhart’s A History of the Three Tribes, or White Quill’s Love in the Time of Colic?”

“Oh, the Quill one, definitely. Great book.” Dash had never, in her entire life, heard of either author or their works.

“Hm.” Twilight stared at the books in question, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her lips, just like it always had when she was deep in thought. Dash forced back the laugh that threatened to bubble out from her chest. “Quill it is, then.”

“Good choice. Hey, you seen Fluttershy?”

“She was getting more books from the library.” Twilight had already moved on to her next set of books. She waved a hoof distractedly. “Somewhere between here and there, I would assume.”

“You’re letting her get books?”

That got a response. Twilight glanced over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Letting her?”

“Nevermind.” For all her smarts, sometimes Twilight could be pretty dense. Dash left her to her books and trotted the short distance to the castle. At some point while she was gone, Twilight had planted some young oaks on the path leading to the entrance, apparently in homage to her old library tree. Their small crowns were brilliant with the touch of autumn, all reds and yellows and golds. A sudden breeze sent them rustling, chasing away for a moment the warmth of the sun.

A small cart sat half-loaded outside the castle entrance. As Dash approached, Fluttershy walked out the wide door, a book held in her mouth and several more balanced on her back between her wings.

“Fluttershy!” she called. The mare stopped to glance over in Dash’s direction, waved a wing, then carefully set her book inside the cart. Dash rushed to her side, grabbed the rest from her back, and dumped them in the cart. “C’mon, what are you doing? You can’t be lifting stuff.”

“That’s very nice of you, Dash.” Fluttershy gave her a warm smile. “But you don’t have to. I can carry books just fine.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t. What about the foal?”

“I’m pregnant, Dash, not sick.” She walked around to the front of the cart and hitched the yoke around her neck. “It doesn’t make us weak. The foal will be just fine. Still, it’s very kind of you to be concerned.” She emphasized that last with a gentle nuzzle, then started off toward the town center with the books in tow.

Dash walked beside her. She found herself glancing at Fluttershy every few steps to make sure she could handle the load. “Well, take it easy, okay? We just don’t want anything, you know... bad to happen.”

Fluttershy seemed to consider that. Finally, she stopped, a small smile on her face as she spoke. “I suppose my hooves are a bit sore today. Would you like to pull the cart, Dash?”

“Heh, yeah. I’d love to.”

Twilight didn’t ask any questions when they showed up with the books, though she did raise an eyebrow at the sight of Dash hauling Fluttershy’s cart. Between the three of them, they stocked the library booth with a minimum of second-guessing from Twilight. Dash wasn’t sure how many ponies would stop by to pick up the latest copy of Mathematics Today Digest, but then, the castle library didn’t seem to be drowning in guests to start with.

They broke for a snack just after noon at a small table on the periphery of the town square. Dash sat with Fluttershy while Twilight grabbed their food. The alicorn chose a small hunk of iceberg lettuce topped with daisies for herself, a larger collection of beets and tubers for Fluttershy, and an entire platter of vegetables and pastries for Dash. She blinked at the mound of food but tucked into it without complaint. Twilight read from one of her books while she ate, leaving Dash and Fluttershy to chat aimlessly about the joys and travails of pregnancy.

Pregnancy had only ever featured in Dash’s life goals as an abstract, something to be avoided now, but possibly desired in the distant future. Expectant pegasi were not the best fliers, and they certainly didn’t lead the Wonder Bolts’ aerial demonstrations. For all that she and Soarin had planned on forming a family, it was always a static, literally sterile goal. Just them. Foals? Later. Someday. Maybe.

But now later meant never. The thought lurked just beneath the surface as she smiled along with Fluttershy. When she finally excused herself to find Rarity, neither mare moved to stop her. “Good luck,” was all Twilight said.

Weird. It wasn’t like Rarity was hiding or anything.

The square grew more crowded with the afternoon. The dirt warmed nicely beneath her hooves, the chill of early autumn chased away by the sun. Dash smiled up at the clear skies, and nearly missed the sight of Rarity standing by a table loaded with candles of all different sizes and shapes. The white mare waved a hoof to flag her attention, and Dash trotted over.

“Hey Rares,” she said. She was still smiling, she realized, and forced herself to adopt a cool, laidback expression. “What’s up?”

“Hello, Dash.” Rarity was wearing a little smile of her own. “Would you mind walking around to the other side of this table?”

Um. Dash glanced at Rarity, the candles, and finally the other side of the table. When Rarity said nothing more, she shrugged and moved into place. “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Rarity looked up. Her eyes met Dash’s for a moment, and then her gaze flicked to the side, over Dash’s shoulder. “Don’t turn around. We’re watching Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh.” Dash played along and picked up a large beeswax candle. It was scented with something fruity she couldn’t quite identify. “You mean spying?”

“Of course not. We’re just playing a little game, she and I. She’s dating somepony but won’t tell me who.”

“Have you asked her friends?”

“No, that would be admitting defeat.” Rarity looked among the candles, then back over Dash’s shoulder. “I’ll catch her out at some point.”

“You know, I saw her sitting with Snails earlier. They seemed very friendly.”

Rarity dropped her candle with a loud thunk. It left a chalky red smear on the wood table. “With who?”

Dash just grinned. After a moment Rarity caught on and gave her a small scowl.

“I’m sure Snails is a fine young stallion,” she said and picked up the candle again. One of its edges was dented from the fall. She gave it a little frown and turned it around so the damaged portion was hidden from view. “But Sweetie... well, there’s no way to say this that won’t sound pretentious, but she deserves somepony wonderful.”

“Doesn’t everypony?”

“Everypony deserves somepony special.” Rarity gave her an arch look. “She’s still young. I just don’t want her making any mistakes. Starting off on the wrong hoof, as it were.”

“And you know what’s best for her?” Her words came out a little stronger than Dash intended. She cocked a grin at Rarity to soften them.

“No. I know what mistakes not to make.” Rarity didn’t look up from the candles. Eventually she selected a tall, slender stick of marbled purple and lavender wax, as well as the damaged candle she dropped earlier. With both floating by her side, she went off in search of the table’s proprietor.

Mistakes? Dash thought she misheard. By the time she puzzled out what Rarity meant, the unicorn was gone.

High cirrus clouds trespassed upon the brilliant blue sky as the afternoon wore on. They looked like white feathers from the ground, and Dash found herself wondering what they felt like. Could a pegasus stand on them? No pegasus could fly high enough to touch them, of course. They were forever out of reach.

Setup for the festival was complete, as best as she could tell. Except for the large group of tables where the townsponies would sit, everything was full. Unlit lanterns hung on lines above her head. Dozens of long tables arranged in rows sagged under the weight of the year’s harvest or various goods. Even the library table attracted a few passers-by, to Twilight’s delight.

A special table, empty except for their place settings and placards, was set up near center of the square for the Elements of Harmony, right next to the mayor’s table. Somepony had decided Dash would sit next to Applejack and Fluttershy, while Rarity would sit between Big Macintosh and “Guest of Princess Twilight Sparkle,” according to the tag. Dash waited until nopony was looking and swapped her own placard with Big Mac’s. Much better.

The square was getting more crowded. The festival didn’t begin for another hour, but half the town seemed to be present, taking advantage of any excuse to mingle with friends and family in perhaps the last decent weather before winter. Dash stopped for a moment and stood motionless; a cool wind on her left ruffled her coat, while the warm sun on her right chased away its chill. The twin faces of autumn, together for the equinox. She closed her eyes, rested in silence, and basked in the warmth and the chill and the scent of hay and the food and the quiet babble of hundreds of ponies living their lives in the quiet contentment of a small town rich with love.

I never should have left.

But she had, which made moments like this all the more important. Minutes passed her by, until a strand of conversation different from the rest intruded on her conscience.

“See? I told you she’d be here.” Sweetie Belle’s voice, high and musical as a chime. “Go on, go talk to her.”

“She looks busy. I don’t wanna interrupt her.” The second voice was scratchy, like its owner spent too much time yelling. Like her own voice, Dash realized, though lower than the last time she heard it. She smiled and opened her eyes.

“Hey girls,” she said. Three fillies – no, young mares, she corrected – stood beside a bench a polite distance away. “How you doing, Scoots? Long time.”

“Hey.” Scootaloo’s grin was three sizes too large for her face, and the skin around her eyes was tight. “Yeah, it’s, uh... been a while, right? How are you?” A moment after asking, she winced, and her eyes darted to Dash’s leg.

It’s cool. Play it off. No big thing.

“Doin’ great, of course.” She stretched, emphasizing the movement with her left foreleg. “Good as new, the doc says.” It was a lie, and the doctor had told her no such thing. Her leg still ached when the weather shifted or she changed altitude too rapidly.

“Oh, good.” Scootaloo’s strain grin eased to something more normal, and she looked over her shoulder at Sweetie and Apple Bloom. “Hey, could you give us a sec?”

“Sure, we’ll be at our table,” Sweetie said. Apple Bloom lingered a moment longer, a tiny frown on her lips, but she followed the unicorn nevertheless. Scootaloo let out a breath once they were alone.

“Everything alright?” Dash raised an eyebrow. It had been years since she had seen Scootaloo this nervous.

“Yeah, totally. Totally.” She sat, and her wings fanned open and shut absently. “I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

Huh? Dash blinked at her. “Sorry for what?”

“You know, for not visiting.” She looked away, feigning a casual interest in the festival around them. “After the accident,” she added, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Oh. Hey, look.” Dash turned and took a seat beside her. Scootaloo was nearly as tall as her now, though her hunched posture left her eyes well below Dash’s. “Things were really crazy for a while. Even if you’d wanted to visit, you probably couldn’t have. That’s why I came back here.” Not strictly true, of course – they’d all been at the funeral, and in the hospital before that. But within weeks the team had been back on the road, travelling for appearances if not full shows. After that, she hadn’t seen anyone from Ponyville until her chance meeting with Rarity.

Scootaloo sniffed. “You got our card, right?”

“Heh. Yeah, I got your card.” Dash had received hundreds of cards after the accident. The hospital staff replaced the extra bed in her room with a desk just to hold them. But the card from Scootaloo and her friends was too big for the desk: several feet tall, sky blue with rainbow lettering, it hung as a poster beside her bed. Even at night she could read it, the glitter in the letters a dim sparkle in the hospital’s hallway lights.

“Thanks for sending it.” She leaned down and gave Scootaloo a little nuzzle.

“It wasn’t too big?”

“No. It was perfect.” Dash rose back to her hooves. Her leg twinged, just a little reminder to be careful. “Anyway, what are you doing these days? Weather team?”

Scootaloo shook her head and stood, then followed Dash as she meandered through the crowd. “Nah. Tutoring.”

“Tutoring? Like, math?”

“Ha! No, though it would probably pay better. I do flight lessons.”

That made more sense. Seriously, math? She shook her head. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking. Are there really that many pegasi here now?”

Scootaloo nodded. “More and more every year. We don’t have enough for a full-up flight school yet like Cloudsdale or Las Pegasus, so the town has a mentoring system. Kinda like you and I did.”

“Ahh.” Dash thought back to Scootaloo’s first lesson on Twilight’s balcony, then the highest point in the town. “Not exactly like ours, I hope.”

“No, not exactly. Your way was more fun, though.”

Well, duh. Dash stifled a smirk. “Not everyone can handle that level of awesome. It’s for the best.” They had completed their tour of the town square and were back where they started. Sweetie and Apple Bloom waited beside the town baker’s table, chatting idly with each other and other ponies their age as they passed. Apple Bloom waved a hoof to grab their attention.

“You done?” Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow at Scootaloo. Her tone was about as far from what Dash expected of an Apple family member as possible. The Apple family reunion must be interesting these days, Dash suspected.

“Yeah, thanks for waiting. Food ready yet?”

“Almost,” Sweetie said. “Just waiting on the mayor.”

“Ugh, is she speaking again?” Apple Bloom made a sour face. “She took forever last year.”

Dash shrugged. “Food’s not going anywhere.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rarity beside another table, pretending to peruse its wares while looking in her direction – no, in Sweetie Belle’s direction. A wicked thought occurred to her.

“Oh, hey, Sweetie,” Dash said. “Snails was looking for you earlier. Said he had something important for you.”

“Snails?” Sweetie tilted her head. “Weird. Be right back, girls,” she said to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo before trotting off. A moment later, Rarity slipped through the crowd after her.

“So are you just visiting, or back for a while?” Apple Bloom asked.

Dash paused to give her a longer look. The huge red bow she had always associated with the filly was gone, replaced by a thin ribbon that wound through the long crimson braid of her mane. A thin paintbrush dipped in red ink adorned her flank; Dash remembered the chaos that had caused at the farm. The first Apple filly in generations not to have a food or farm-related cutie mark.

“Just a visit.” She turned back to the festival setup. Staring at another pony’s cutie mark wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t exactly cool either. “The Bolts never stop moving, you know? Got our first fall show in a few weeks.”

“Las Pegasus, right?” Scootaloo asked. “Will you be flying?”

“Uh, depends,” Dash hedged. “Got some new kids we’re trying out. Might let them fly instead, get some experience.”

“Oh.” Scootaloo’s ears dipped. “That’s cool too.“ She started to say something else, but stopped with a sudden hitch of her shoulders. She gave them both a weak smile and jumped into the air, vanishing with a blast of wind that set Dash’s mane fluttering.

Dash watched with a frown as Scootaloo circled around the town hall before vanishing above a low cloud bank. Years ago, she had to practically chase Scootaloo away. Miss a few shows, though...

Her thoughts must’ve shown on her face. Apple Bloom sidled up and gave her a little bump on the shoulder.

“She doesn’t care about the shows, you know,” she said. Her voice had lost any hint of Applejack’s country accent. “She just wants everything to be the way it was before.”

“Yeah, well...” The old Dash would’ve said something dismissive, about ignoring the past and seizing the future. Something optimistic. She stood in silence instead. All around, her past life continued its preparations for the festival.

New subject, then. “So, what about you? Not living out at the farm anymore, I hear.”

“Moved out last year. Easier for everypony, to be honest.”

“Don’t you miss them?” Some unseen signal passed through the crowd, and ponies began gravitating toward their tables. Dash glanced at the clock mounted in the town hall’s tower. The afternoon was nearly half over, and the shadows had shifted around her, drawing dark shapes across the square.

“Not yet. I still see them all the time.”

“Oh.” Dash followed behind Apple Bloom toward the growing crowd. “Wait, not yet?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Moving to Manehattan in the spring. Already have an apprenticeship lined up with Ink Daub.” She paused a moment after the name, her eyes on Dash’s face. “He’s a pretty famous artist.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I’ve heard of him.” It was possibly true; Dash heard of lots of ponies. “Do you really need to move, though?”

She chuckled. “Ponyville isn’t for artists, Dash. It’s for ponies like my sister.”

“What about, uh...” There had to be an artist somewhere in Ponyville. “Rarity! She’s like an artist.”

“Yeah, and she left.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “C’mon, they’re about to start serving.”

“You okay?”

Rarity gave a little start. She had been staring at her food and gnawing on her lower lip before Dash took the seat
beside her. “I’m sorry, dear?”

“You look a little distracted.”

“Oh, yes.” She looked around, then lowered her head to whisper in Dash’s ear. “You won’t believe who I saw Sweetie talking to, just now.”

Dash bet she could. A tiny grin teased the corners of her mouth, despite her best attempts to quash it. “Who?”

“Snails!” She practically hissed his name.

“Whoa! Do you think there might be something between them?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what she would see in a colt like that. You’d think that in a town of this size, a young unicorn mare could – oh, hello Pinkie.” Rarity’s tone flipped like a switch the moment she noticed Pinkie Pie standing behind them. Suddenly calm and poised, a true society mare.

“Hey girls.” Pinkie smiled at them. “I didn’t know you two were sitting next to each other.”

“Assigned seats.” Dash said. She tapped her tag for emphasis.

“So they are, so they are.” Her smile seemed a little more knowing than Dash was comfortable with, but she didn’t press the issue. “You two have fun, then! And don’t worry about your figure, Rarity. You look fine.”

Rarity waited until Pinkie left, then gave a sniff. “Well, I never.” She looked down at her chest, then craned her head around to view her hips. “I don’t look pudgy to you, do I?”

“Beats me, I think everypony looks fat.” Wait, that didn’t sound right. Rarity was glaring at her, too. “I mean, you know, compared to pegasi.”

“Seriously.” Rarity huffed. “Sometimes, Rainbow Dash...”

Dash waited for her to continue, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. Just as well, to judge by the expression on Rarity’s face. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change seat tags again.

“Hello Rarity, Rainbow Dash.” The scent of wildflowers intruded, and Dash turned to see Fluttershy taking a seat to her left. She was as graceful as ever, even with the extra weight she was carrying. “I didn’t see you earlier, Rarity. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Just a little fat, apparently.” Another glare.

“Oh, you’re not fat, Rarity,” Fluttershy said. “You’re very healthy.”

Rarity nodded sharply. “Thank you. See, Dash?”

“See what?” Dash let a bit of annoyance into her voice. A day of tiptoeing around Rarity’s delicate sensibilities was starting to wear. “I see a pregnant mare saying you don’t look fat to her.”

Whatever indignant response that would have provoked – and it would have, to judge by the narrowing of Rarity’s eyes – was forestalled by Twilight’s arrival at their table. She pulled out the pair of chairs to Rarity’s right with a quick bit of magic, then stood aside to give her companion a space at the table. The tall brown stallion at her side wore a white collar with a green tie and gave them a warm smile.

“Girls, I think you know Time Turner,” she said. She carefully avoided any direct contact with him as she sat. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend?” Rarity’s voice was carefully, studiously neutral, though her smile was not. “Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you – and I’ve heard so much about you!”

“You have?” “You have!?” They spoke simultaneously, though Twilight’s response seemed a tad panicky. He gave her a bemused look.

Rarity’s smile grew sharper. “Oh, just the usual things. A scientist, aren’t you? Why, Twilight’s a scientist, too. Tell me, how long have you been friends?” She drew the word ‘friends’ out just a hair longer than was necessary.

He opened his mouth, but Twilight beat him to the punch. “A while. We’ve been friends for a while. Good, good friends. Isn’t friendship amazing, Rarity?” Her stare could have set paper on fire.

“Hey boss,” Dash said. “Rainbow Dash. I think we met a few times when I lived here.”

He leaned back, as much to speak with her as to escape the crossfire between Rarity and Twilight, who continued their low banter around him. “Why yes, I think we did. Wonder Bolt, aren’t you?”

“Heh, yeah. Ever been to a show? I could get you and Twi some tickets.”

He glanced at Twilight, who was still trading jabs with Rarity. “I think that would be wonderful. Don’t you think, Sparky?”

“Huh?” Twilight jerked up from her hunched position, her snout just inches from Rarity’s as they whispered back and forth. Her ears flicked forward and a faint blush tinted her face a darker shade of lavender. “Yes, uh, that sounds... good?”

Further discussion was forestalled by the arrival of the first platter of food. A unicorn Dash didn’t recognize floated a huge tray larded with toasted vegetables slathered in sunflower oil and steaming in the crisp autumn air. A second tray followed, filled with tankards rich with the scent of cider and the sharp bite of alcohol.

With food before them, the conversation shifted to more prosaic topics – Fluttershy’s foal, Applejack’s plans for the farm, Pinkie’s next party, Twilight’s correspondence with Celestia. Even Twilight’s ‘friend’ chatted as amiably as though he had known them all for years.

Only when the topic turned to Rainbow Dash or Rarity did it begin to falter, for neither, it seemed, knew quite what to say. They had returned to Ponyville, Dash realized, but not the Ponyville they had left. It had moved without them, grown without them. The thought left her with an inexplicable sadness, despite the joy at the table all around her. Of the dozen mares and stallions seated beside her, only Rarity seemed to feel the same, and it was the same lost expression on her face that Dash thought she glimpsed for just a moment, in passing, between the words of an idle conversation.

The food was delicious, the drink without compare. The companionship was worth more than all the treasures in Celestia’s palace. And all of it, Dash viewed as through a window. It was other ponies’ happiness, their community, their joy. Her portion was a meager sip compared with their bounty. It was not her home anymore.

I never should have left.

She glanced at Rarity. The bright smile never left the unicorn’s face, but when her eyes met Dash’s, the corners seemed to slip. Rarity always wore a mask, Dash knew, and for the first time she could see it.

Ponies ate, and talked, and laughed. The community came together and lived. Hours flowed by like leaves upon a stream. And above, in ones and twos and then by thousands, the silent stars emerged to witness the slow resurrection of night.

“AJ!”

Applejack looked up sharply from her cart. It was mostly empty, all of her apples having been consumed by voracious townsponies during the festival. When she saw who called her, she set the cart’s tow bar down on the path and waited.

“Hey Dash. Need a lift?” She motioned toward the empty cart with her head.

“Little old for that, I think,” Dash said. “You got a sec?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Rarity. “Nothing, just wanted to chat, you know? Like, how are you, and stuff?”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. The silence stretched out between them. Dash could hear her heart beating in her ears.

“I’m fine, sug,” Applejack finally said in a slow drawl. “You sure there’s nothing special you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, uh...” Dash trailed off and glanced around. The festival was nearly deserted, with only a few ponies left helping tear down the tables and decorations. Rarity and Sweetie Belle had already returned to the Boutique. “It’s about Rarity, actually.”

“Oh, Rarity.” Applejack sounded anything but surprised. “I’m prolly not the best mare to ask about her.”

“Yeah...” Dash grimaced. It was true, unfortunately. Applejack and Rarity were about as far apart on her circle of friends as any two ponies could be. Almost as far apart as herself and Rarity, for that matter. The thought was sobering. “I know. But I trust you, though.”

“Huh.” Applejack chewed on that for a moment. “That’s a start, I guess. So, what about her?”

“Do you think she’s happy?”

“Happy? Like, Pinkie happy?”

“No, like...” Like what? Dash scowled and kicked at the dirt. “Like, is she really happy with things.”

“She says she’s happy. She acts happy. Ain’t that good enough?”

“Yeah, that’s good, but...” She looked around again. Still alone. “I was talking to her earlier. I forget what it was about. But she mentioned something about mistakes she’s made. And while we were eating, she just seemed... I dunno. Different.”

Applejack’s ears twitched at that, and she gave Dash a longer look. “That could mean a lot of things, sug. We’ve all made mistakes.”

“I know, but the way she said it was all... like, kinda dramatic.”

“Like Rarity.”

“No...” Actually, yes. Maybe she was reading too much into it. She turned the possibility over in her mind for a few moments. Applejack watched her in patient silence.

“Okay, maybe I’m being stupid,” Dash said. Celestia knew it wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s just... well, if one of us was in trouble, we’d help her, right?”

Applejack looked away. “Course we would, sug. That’s what …” She stopped to clear her throat. “That’s what friendship’s about, right?”

Dash smiled. Good old dependable AJ. She gave her friend a light chuck on the shoulder and was surprised when Applejack winced in response. She didn’t hit that hard.

“Well, hey, thanks for hearing me out,” she said. “Maybe keep an eye on Rarity, though? You know, if she’s around.”

“Sure will.” AJ’s smile seemed strained, for some reason. Probably just tired after a long day. “So, where you headed now? Back to your cloud?”

“Nah, Rarity’s letting me crash at Sweetie Belle’s. Pretty cool of her, huh?”

“Ain’t that where Rarity’s staying?”

“Heh, yeah, it’s pretty neat, actually.” Dash rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “Me, hanging out at Rarity’s. Never would’ve thought that, huh?”

“I’ve seen stranger things.” Applejack picked the tow bar back up, settling it around her shoulders. “Not many, though. You take care, alright?”

“Will do.” Dash danced around the cart, as light on her hooves as ever, even without using her wings. “And thanks for all the apples!”

Applejack shook her head, though Dash could see the smile on her face. The night around her seemed less dark as she walked the short distance back to the Boutique.

Rarity and Sweetie were already asleep upstairs when Dash arrived. The lights were out, except for a single lantern left by the entrance to both guide and welcome her home. She blew the flame out as she passed by.

She considered joining Rarity in the spare bedroom but discarded the idea as impolite. The unicorn was probably already asleep, and it wouldn’t do to wake her up, especially if her presence might not be entirely welcome. Instead she felt her way through the darkness to the couch and settled atop it. The night was still warm enough that blankets were unneeded.

Rarity, Rarity, Rarity. She couldn’t put her hoof on it, but was something wrong with her, something different about the mature young mare she remembered from the past. Whatever it was, though, she kept it hidden well behind veils and masks. Rarity was the sort of pony who would insist things were fine, just fine, until the world crumbled around her.

Remind you of anypony?

She snorted. Sure, Rarity wasn’t the only stubborn pony in the world, but she took that illusion of self-control and ran with it further than anypony Dash knew. When it came to her personal life, Rarity did not ask for help. She probably wasn’t capable of it.

Whatever. It could wait until morning. Dash settled into a comfortable position on her side, closed her eyes, and willed her thoughts to silence.

Some minutes later, she opened her eyes, as wide awake as before. Well, crap.

Deep breaths, then. Slow in, until her lungs were full and her chest felt like it was about to burst. Then slow out, pushing every ounce of air from her body. Pause. Her heart slowed. Each individual beat shook her frame and trembled her feathers. Slow in. Hold. Slow out. Pause.

She could do this forever, taking only three or four breaths each minute. It was foals’ play at ground level, where the air was thick and rich. Up there, in the high airless reaches of the sky, her lungs were like frantic bellows, desperate to scrounge enough oxygen to keep her wings moving and her brain alive. Earth ponies and unicorns didn’t understand, didn’t realize they spent their whole lives wallowing in air. More than once, Dash had returned from an ultra-high flight coughing up blood. Pulmonary edema, the team doc called it, and scolded her for being reckless. Pegasus lungs could take a beating, though, and she laughed off his orders. Flying was life.

A twinge of discomfort teased her chest, and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe for nearly a full minute. She waited anyway, letting the ache slowly build in her lungs. It was one of her little games, one of the ways she tested herself and pushed the bounds of what was possible for a flyer. Another minute passed; her heart sped back to its normal pace and then faster. Her legs tried to squirm. She forced them to stillness.

A third minute, and she let the breath seep out through her pursed lips, followed by a shallow breath in. Nowhere near her record, but the goal tonight was to fall asleep, not practice breathing. She sighed and rolled onto her back.

Counting sheep? She didn’t even try. She never got above twenty before she got bored and her thoughts drifted to other things.

Counting sheep that’s so stupid who the hell thought of counting sheep anyway?

Insomnia was new to Rainbow Dash. Before the accident, whenever she shared a bed (or couch, or cloud, or tree) with Soarin, sleep had a way of finding her abruptly, usually after a vigorous bout of sexual activity. Not every night, but... well, okay, maybe every night. Even after shows, when most of the team collapsed in exhaustion, she and Soarin always seemed to have just enough energy left for a bit of fun.

Fuck, it’s worth a try.

She sat up on the couch and peered around the dark boutique. Her ears flicked about, searching for the creak of floorboards or the squeal of a door’s hinges swinging. Nothing. The home was silent and still. Only the faint rustle of dry leaves in the trees outside intruded.

Alone. Good. She lowered herself back to the couch and stretched, enjoying the scratch of the fabric against her coat – so much rougher than the cloudstuff she normally slept upon. She closed her eyes and ran the flat of her hoof along her abdomen. No patterns, no plans, just random light strokes.

In her imagination, another pony touched her. His hoof, broader and stronger than hers, teased her belly. Hot breath washed across her neck, followed by gentle lips and not so gentle teeth. She bit her lip and squeezed her thighs together. The pulse that followed from between her legs wasn’t quite pleasure yet, but it made her breath catch nevertheless.

It was his hoof now that brushed along her sides, tracing the cloud and bolt of her cutie mark. She bit her lip, half in anticipation, half to keep from spoiling the silence of the boutique with laughter. She was ticklish there, and he knew it.

Enough pretending. She slid her hoof between her legs to the hot coal hiding there. Swollen lips gave way easily to her touch, barely wet yet but eager for more. She let out a deep, shuddering breath and pressed against the nub of pleasure nestled within her folds.

She could smell herself now, a musky scent that did nothing for her but drove Soarin wild. By this point in their foreplay, his cock would start getting in the way of their nibbles and touches, and demand a firmer response from her. Her hoof slid easily between her lips now, slick with the first drops of her arousal.

On another night, she might have spent quite some time playing with herself, imagining different fantasies as her hoof rubbed faster and harder between her legs. But tonight, she simply wanted that release, and when it came it barely qualified as an orgasm, just a fleeting wash of pleasure that filled her pelvis, and just as quickly fled into the night.

It was enough, though. She rolled onto her side as a wave of exhaustion broke over her. She closed her eyes, and within seconds found the elusive peace of sleep.

The couch shifted beneath her. Dash mumbled quietly and pried her eyes open. Still dark. She pulled her forelegs under her chest and was about to push herself up when a quiet voice sounded in her ear.

“Shhh, shh... sleep,” it whispered. A warm, soft weight pressed against her side.

That seemed like good advice. She yawned, leaned against the new presence, and swiftly fell back into darkness.