Finding A Star : Chapter One - Ash

Bleary eyed, Discovery looked up at the empty night sky. She immediately wished she hadn't. The glance brought with it another wave of depression. Another reminder of the gray clouds of ash, another reminder of what she had lost.

She was currently standing guard while two ponies caught their sleep. Swift, all energy and anger, seemed to have been drained from him, leaving in their place misery and sadness. Twister, the level headed earth pony, seemed less affected, but it was all there under the surface. The pain was simmering beneath his calm demeanor. It was a pain they had all lived with for a long time now.

Discovery mulled over the idea that being in this park in the dead of night was not the wisest of ideas, but dismissed it. The only dangerous creatures likely to approach them would not be deterred by stone walls. She could smell the burning, choking scent of smoke and ash. This was common now.  It had been for the past ten years. The Swayback Volcanoes must be more active than usual, she mused. But then her muscles went taut. Her instincts were telling her something wasn't right. She always listened to them. Discovery inhaled deeply through her nose, and fought back the urge to cough. The smoke smelled different. It was the ash of burning wood, there was none of the usual fiery scent that was in the Sway ash.

So somepony.. or something was making some sort of fire nearby, she thought.

She decided to investigate.

****

Brightfield awoke while the sun was starting to make its way across the sky, dispelling the harsh black of the night, and replacing it with a worse vision of gigantic gray clouds. They were filled with ash, and more importantly, sulphur dioxide. Mix those with the moisture from the nearby Hudson river, and you had acid rain. He decided then that he would need to fix up the roof with more layers of sheet metal.

He attached a large sheet of metal to a dangling length of rope. Using a row of wooden planks suspended by two other, longer ones, he climbed up to the roof. He had to put both forehooves on the third step, and he pushed up with his rearhooves. He made a small leap, and landed on the next set of steps. It was an unconventional method of reaching the roof, but without the use of his wings, he had no hope. The thought gave another pang of wistfulness in Brightfield, but he had come to terms with his lack of ability to fly nine years ago.

When he reached the roof, he yanked on another piece of rope, and the pulley slowly lifted the metal upwards. He then started a careful decent down the planks. He did this entire routine four more times.

By the time Brightfield was finished welding the metal to it's worn out counterparts beneath it, the sun had reached the middle of the sky, and the clouds had gathered above the city.

He pulled all his equipment with him down the makeshift ladder, and stowed the rope, remaining metal and blowtorch in the cellar beneath his building. He didn't call it a house. It wasn't his home. But it was his.

The first drop fell. It landed next to him, and instantly burned through the tiny weed that had managed to grow through the choking ash and lack of sun.

Leaving whatever insignificant equipment was left behind, Brightfield galloped as fast as he could to the entrance of his building. Several drops of the burning rain had impacted on the broken Pegasus' wings. Fortunately, he could not feel pain from them anymore. If he could, he would be screaming in agony. As it was, he was simply in a lot of pain. Two drops had managed to land in the centre of his back, and had burned to the skin, scalding it. His roof was holding against the rain, even if it was a particularly strong storm. A very good thing he reinforced it when he did, or the entire roof might've collapsed, and he would've been dead in minutes. The sun had awoken him just in time. The first thing the sun has done usefully in a long time, he thought.

****

It was nearing dusk, and Brightfield reflected how unproductive the day had been. He had used up a lot of his metal supplies, and had not scavenged for more, or searched for food or water. Instead, the storm had lasted all day, and he was forced to stay indoors.

After the rain had finally stopped, he ventured into the browned and blackened garden behind his building, and decided he needed to eat. He had eaten a packet of crackers and drunk water, but could now start a fire. First, he needed to dry out the ground, as to not to let his hooves dissolve from the acid in the soil. He set out strips of chipboard, then made three thin lines of gunpowder down their lengths, and one down the middle, interconnecting the strips. He lit a fragment of chipboard with flint, and stood back before flinging it on the powder.

The chipboard burned extremely quickly, almost vaporising the moisture in the ground.

Finally, with a path into the garden, he gathered his firewood from the immensely large stores in his cellar, and turned them into a small, but hot fire efficiently and swiftly. He ate soup, which he previously bought from a traveller with a coat and a pair of shoes. It was a harsh world, and he had plenty of spares. In fact, he had spares of pretty much anything. Scavenging for long periods of the day, as well as the fact that there were a lot less ponies around to use them, had made supplies that don't expire quickly extremely plentiful.

****

Discovery found the source of the fire. In a secluded area, she spotted an apparently derelict white and red building.

The rain had struck not ten minutes before she set off, and thankfully, an abandoned warehouse had sheltered all three of the ponies from the worst. She was tired from being the lookout for the last half of the night, and now it was almost dusk.

Slowly and carefully, she moved around the damp patches of the ground. It would be agony if she stepped in loose mud or worse, a puddle.

As Discovery approached, she realized the building was not as empty as she once thought. Looking into the window, she could see an electric generator, and a large cupboard stacked high with food. Cans and cans stood in line with powdered packets. They were the few foods that survived the last ten years.

The front door was locked with more than five padlocks. The windows didn't look like flimsy glass either. So, she chose option three. Spreading her golden hued wings, she leapt into the sky.

Discovery glanced at the horizon, from her higher viewpoint. She saw the ash that covered everything that wasn't moving, she saw skyscrapers that were starting to fall apart, some with great chunks missing from their frames. She saw plants reclaiming the world. Her white coat, that used to shine with luscious radiance, now was closer to grey with dirt and ash.

She landed upon the roof with a metallic twang and upon looking down, she realized why. Her next logical leap was that there was no entry here either. Frustrated, she stomped a hoof. What happened next was completely unexpected.

****

Brightfield had just gone back inside, to get his equipment ready for scavenging, when he heard a stomp on his roof. Then the roof gave way. Immediately he ran into one of the back rooms. It was decorated sparsely, with peeling paint and nothing but a sizable cupboard inside. It was what was in the cupboard that interested him.

He grabbed the handle with his mouth and pulled, revealing an obscene array of weapons. Most were small barrelled  point n' shoots he used often while scavenging, to save on weight. But he had a select few that strapped onto his back, and could generate a hail storm of bullets, rockets or grenades. He used those in emergencies. He put this situation somewhere in the middle, and he drew his eyes towards the back of one of the shelves...

****

Discovery was a Pegasus. That much was fact. From when she was only getting past fillyhood, however, three things came to light. She was not ordinary. She was not even close to normal. Often ridiculed by the pretentious mares in New Ponyville because of these traits, she led a secluded life. Her preternatural beauty and golden eyes don't help her. She wears colored contact lenses to hide the golden shine, but her beauty she cannot hide. She wants to. She knows it is not normal to have the figure and face of a goddess.

She is walking down the Backstreets, an unofficial name for the more unkempt areas of New Ponyville. Although they are frowned upon by the aristocracy that live in the richer areas of the city, Discovery had found a place where she is not only welcomed, but the drinks there are incredible.

She finds friends among the crowd, the closest of which are two slightly older stallions. She learns their names are Twister and Swift Saddle. She does not know Twisters last name. And no one knows hers. They all often come here for a drink, and more than Discovery likes to admit, Swift and her end up in considerably more inappropriate situations. Always stuck on the friendship boundary, Discovery soon realized that she does not have the right feelings for Swift to make things serious. They still continue however, however many times they apologise to each other in the morning. This is until, on a particularly drunken misadventure, when the final of her attributes shows itself. It is let out of control, her alcohol levels freeing the bonds which her mind subconsciously kept tight. A burst of light is shone forth, and shatters windows. Swift is thrown onto his back, his head hitting the wall in the progress. His Unicorn horn reacts intensely to the incredibly strong magic released, and it glows a furious red.. All the while, Discovery's wings are aglow, still casting a blinding light that shines through the empty window frames to the streets below. Then it abruptly stops. The flow of magic cuts off, and it is shackled once again. Discovery is laying back, wings splayed, and is terrified of what has just happened. Then logic kicks in, and she goes to help her friend, who is currently unconscious.

After sending him to the best hospital in the Backstreets, Discovery tests her mind, to see what caused the outburst. To her surprise, she can now feel the taut chains keeping back the powerful magic. She tests the waters, and finds that she can move the chains. She doesn't dare try to release them, scared that if she does, she won't be able to reel them in again.

It is from this point, her life becomes dedicated to gain audience with the one being in all Equestria that could help her understand.

Twilight Sparkle.

****

Discovery woke up three hours after she landed in a heap in the middle of the derelict building. Not realizing how much time has passed, she expected to be lying in a mound of rubble. Instead she found herself in a warm and comfy bed. She moved out of the bed, landing quietly on her hooves, and gave the plumage on her wings a quick sorting out. Now she was alert. She took in her surroundings. A faded blue coat of paint covered the walls, with pink flowers dotted around the room. Discovery noted, with some concern, that she had been sleeping in a young filly's room.

She carefully made her way around the room, looking for any sign of danger. There were none.

Odd, she thought. Who would put me in a bed after I crash through their roof?

The answer came from a distance. Would you feel better if I killed you on the spot?

"Where are you talking from?"

I'm downstairs, Discovery.

"How do you know my name? What in Sparkles name is going on!?" She yelled into the darkness, her smooth voice magnified in an attempt to scare the strange voice out of hiding.

I know your name, I know your age, and what you are, miss Pegasus. I know you have powers you want no one to notice. I could not withstand these powers were they to be used against me.

Discovery was numbed to her core. Only Twiser and Swift knew of the powers she had. But none of us know how they work. Not really. It was thoughts like these that only chilled her further.

But enough of that. Come downstairs when you are ready.

Discovery wondered at this strange voices' ability to talk as if without speaking. Perhaps she was finally going insane. Ten years of gray ash and destruction does that to ponies. But then, how could she explain her coming out of sleep in a bed? There was only one way to find out.

She started to walk down the rickety stairs, listening to the creaks and groans. Giving a quick glance half way down, she could've sworn she saw a flash of metallic shine under that cupboard. She dismissed it as nothing major. She was made of sterner stuff than to be frightened of her own imagination.

No. She had much worse things to be scared of.