Thunderlane floated through the late evening sky over Ponyville on an errant cloud, carried by an unassuming breeze—just as he always did. This was his favorite time of day, when the town's activity finally died down and everypony was getting ready for bed. With his dark coat, no one would see him above, and he knew no other pegasus would be flying about so late. This was his time, beneath the stars.

One by one, the town's lights—from doors, windows, porch lamps and assorted magical auras—dimmed from a bright white or yellow into a deeper orange, and finally into a familiar darkness. Not every house was like this, and he respected those who liked the night as he did, but it was enough to allow him a magnificent view of the stars above. So insignificant that he was, he thought. He liked to think about this often when he looked at the stars, the great burning balls of gas, thousand times bigger than their tiny planet. It was his dream once, before he became a weather pony, to study the heavens at the Equestrian Aeronautics and Space Administration.

It was not to be, however. The circumstances of his life led him to be a weather pony, and so a weather pony he became. He moved to Ponyville, taking his little brother Rumble along with him, and now he was the sole provider for Rumble's food and tuition. Astronomy became a hobby, one he could only partake in shortly between when he got off work and when he needed to go to bed.

Thunderlane sighed wearily. Thoughts of his dreams often turned sour, and tonight was no different. He thought about how long it would take him to break out of this life, to be able to do what he wanted to be doing. He thought about whether or not he would even be able to. And he thought of how those close to him would remember if he died without ever getting there.

Everypony had to go someday. Even the greatest stars exploded in a brilliant nova. Some stars, however, simply petered out into darkness. Smaller things faded into nothing. Surely Rumble would miss him at first. His friends, too. But a year later, they'd be used to life without him. Would ponies think of him a year later? A passing conversation about things he used to always do, perhaps, how it felt like something was missing, but he would just be that weather pony who didn't like his job. Years later, he would be forgotten like the cosmic nothing that he was. He wanted to burn bright like a star, not float around like an asteroid until it unceremoniously jettisoned itself into some planet's surface.

He needed to get his life together, he decided—a life on his own terms. No longer would he be just a local weather pony, but instead he would pursue his dream of being an astronomer. The first thing he would do tomorrow would be to submit his application to the Fillydelphia Star Gazers Guild—not quite a job at EASA, but it was a start. Tomorrow would mark a new beginning for him. For a new Thunderlane.

Tomorrow, he thought, and he alit from his cloud with a small hop, then made his way to his little home below with a yawn and a resolve stronger than any steel.

Just as he always did.