Trixie knows what it is to be determined. She knows it better than anypony. She’s always felt it, her whole life. It’s a familiar companion, this sense of inevitability. But just because something is inevitable doesn’t mean it’s something she wants. So she paces restlessly inside her wagon—all three steps there’s room to pace—and grumbles to herself, wordless noises of complaint. They do her no good. When a pony is determined to get what they’re after, and willing to do anything to get it, there’s only one thing [i]to[/i] do: whatever it takes. And so Trixie is well aware, like it or not, that she has no other choice. She exits her wagon, and hitches herself to it. It’s time to go. What else can she do? Her mind is made up. She’s determined. [hr] Travel is tiring, but also pleasant in some ways. Trixie thinks to herself while she pulls her wagon along. She spends a lot of time thinking on the road. It’s a very contemplative place to be, with the long hours of solitude. Her mind always wanders while she walks. The only noise, a soft steady rhythm of hoofsteps, is nowhere near enough of a leash to keep her thoughts bound and focused, and she makes no effort to restrain them. They drift until she’s thinking back to the first thing she was ever determined to achieve: becoming the greatest of stage magicians. She began as a filly, rushing home from school every day to practice card tricks, sleight-of-hoof, illusions of any type so long as they would bedazzle an audience. She practiced in front of a mirror, in front of her classmates, in front of her parents. For hours and hours and hours, Trixie had honed her craft. It was determination measured in time. It paid off, to an extent. Trixie keeps walking, pulling her wagon along behind her. Her thoughts progress forward alongside her hooves on the hard-packed dirt road. Trixie thinks about how the second thing she was ever determined to achieve was revenge. She’d almost had it, too, and to get it, she traded everything, every single coin she’d scrimped and scraped and somehow saved during those hard times. Yes, Trixie paid dearly for the amulet that would give her the power; determination measured in bits. She misses these bits, too, every time she catches the wafting, enticing aroma of a carrot dog vendor’s stand and has to think carefully about whether or not she can afford a decent hot meal today. Revenge, she knows now, was a foolish thing to be determined about. But that’s water under the bridge, dust under her wagon-wheels. It’s over and done, just like her journey is now. She unhitches her wagon, leaving it parked unobtrusively alongside some bushes in the green lawn surrounding a huge tree made of shimmering, faceted crystal. Trixie walks over to the large, arched main doors, and knocks. After a long moment, Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship herself, answers. “Trixie?” she asks, with a little half-smile. “Hang on, I’ll get Starlight.” “No...” Trixie shakes her head hesitantly. “It’s you I came to see, actually.” Twilight’s smile fades and she stands in silence, not sure what to say, just looking sidelong at Trixie with one eye half-closed. Trixie feels awkward and wants to run away, but she won’t because she knows why she’s here. Trixie knows what it is to be determined. She would have liked to just let Twilight go get Starlight, and in a way, Starlight actually is why Trixie’s here: Starlight is something too important to screw up, and Trixie is determined not to. She’ll do what it takes, go to who she needs to for help, and that means the pony who knows more about this than anypony else – even if she’s also the one who sank Trixie’s determination twice before. Trixie stares at the ground while she swallows down the lump in her throat, the physical manifestation of her pride. It’s not easy to be here. But it’s alright, because Trixie finally understands the kind of determination she really needs. She finally understands the reason the other kinds failed her before – they were incomplete because they lacked this. This will be determination measured in humility. “Twilight,” I begin, looking up and meeting her purple eyes with careful hope, “I was wondering: can... can you teach me how to be a better friend?” I’m so incredibly relieved when her nod and kind smile say yes.