“My apologies,” said Clover as she tried to rub the tiredness out of her eyes, “but I’m going to have you ask you to repeat what you just said to me.”

Clover levitated Star Swirl’s teapot to pour herself another cup of the liquid abomination held inside. It was probably half caffeine by weight, barely holding any ghost of the leaves that were murdered to make it. And it was exactly what she needed.

“Why’s that?” asked Star Swirl, distractedly. The wizard was hard at work at this early hour, scribbling notes while carefully observing a gemstone suspended in a flask full of water.

“Because we’ve stayed up all night working on whatever [i]that[/i] is.” Clover waved a hoof at Star Swirl’s experiment.

As she spoke, the floating gemstone began to move, tapping against the inside of the glass. Star Swirl’s eyes widened, and his note-taking speed doubled.

“Yes, we have,” he said. “What of it?”

Clover used her magic to pinch the bridge of her nose as she took another sip from her teacup. It tasted like distilled hatred.

“The point is, that I’ve been perpetually five minutes away from passing out for the last six hours. So there’s a good chance that I misheard you when I thought you said that you wanted me to take [i]sparring lessons[/i].”

“You didn’t,” said Star Swirl, simply. He never took his eyes away from the gem, which had taken up a magical glow. Tendrils of light snaked out from it, exploring the glass prison that encased it.

“B-but why?” she sputtered. “What use could I possibly have for [i]fighting[/i]?”

“Many uses,” said Star Swirl. His notetaking had reached a legendary speed, devouring once-empty pages in a matter of seconds. “Our trip to the badlands would have gone much smoother if you had subdued the stray timberwolf more swiftly.”

“Cookie said that she had it covered!” Clover threw her hooves up in frustration. “Besides, everything turned out fine! I got it… Eventually.”

The gem’s magical tendrils began to strike against the inside of the glass. [i]Tap, tap tap.[/i]

“By god, it’s gained sentience…” Star Swirl muttered under his breath.

“Hey!” hissed Clover. “Don’t change the subject!”

“Oh, yes, of course,” mumbled Star Swirl as he opened a fresh notebook. “I was saying, that I think you’d benefit greatly from having a bit more finesse in the martial arts.”

[i]release me[/i]

… Star Swirl’s notetaking paused as he afforded a sidelong glance to the gem in the flask.

“Eyes back here!” Clover snapped. “And, I think I did a fine job handling the situation!”

“Clover, my dear,” said Star Swirl. There was a hint of a smile around his lips. “Every time we are met with conflict of the combative variety, you cannot just keep flinging raw magical force at the problem while hoping for the situation to resolve itself. Now please, hold this flask for me. I want to see if I can dispel our little creation, here.”

“Of all your outrageous demands, this is by far the most intolerable.” Clover took the flask in her magical grasp. “I’m a scholar, not some sort of barbarian!”

“Well, if you don’t want to do it, I can’t force you.” Star Swirl as he readied a magic-removal spell. He aimed his horn at the flask. “But it [i]would[/i] mean the end of our arrangement.”

“Seriously?” Clover deadpanned. “You’re playing [i]that[/i] card?”

Star Swirl’s spell discharged, but in the split second before it struck, the gem’s magical aura lit up, shielding the entire flask from the spell.

[i]no[/i], said the gem.

It promptly proceeded to wrest control of the flask from Clover.

“It’s become spell-resistant! How fascinating!” Star Swirl watched as gem and flask flew circles in the air above their heads. “But yes, I am playing that card.”

“Are you kidding me?” asked Clover as she levitated up a broom to try to catch the flying experiment. “Even after all these years we’ve spent together?”

“Yes,” said Star Swirl. He joined the chase with a butterfly net. “Our arrangement still holds. You are my apprentice, but if there is anything I demand of you that you’d rather not do, you are free to end our partnership at any time.”

“Which is really just another way of saying, ‘Do what I want, or I’ll evict you.’” Clover blew a raspberry as she landed a solid hit on the flask, which sent it wobbling off to the side.

[i]stop fool[/i]

“Unfortunately room and board in the guest chambers is only for active research assistants.” Star Swirl nodded. With a flick of his horn, he deftly caught the gem in the net. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go if you choose to reject my offer.”

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that, you old geezer?”

“I do. Platinum never fails to remind me in all her letters.” Star Swirl pulled the flask to the ground and immediately jumped on top of it, pinning it to the ground. “Clover, dear, would you please hand me my book of banishment rites?”

[i]i am alive[/i]

“Ugh.” Clover fetched the tome in question. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll take the goddess-darned fighting classes.”

“Wonderful!” said the wizard as he frantically flipped through the pages and pages of scrawled notes. “Because I’ve already got you scheduled for a lesson today at 10. Your instructor will meet you at the castle training grounds!”

[i]i know what hate is[/i]

“An hour and a half from now.” Clover dragged her hoof down her face. “How thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome.” Star Swirl lit his horn. The flask beneath him disappeared in a flash, and he tumbled the short distance to the floor left by its absence. “Whew, it’s good to have that taken care of!”

“Easy for you to say.” Clover rubbed her eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. “Who’s to be my instructor, anyway?”

“Fear not, dear, I’ve been ever so fastidious in selecting a teacher for you,” said Star Swirl. “Her name is Glowing Dawn. She hails from house Sparkle, and she has many years of experience.”

“House Sparkle?” Clover’s eyes widened. “How much are you paying her?”

“Nothing, actually! It all worked out so conveniently.” Star Swirl blew on his notes to dry the ink before closing his notebook and putting it away. “From what I hear, she was honorably discharged from the Guard against her will several months ago. The boredom has been killing her! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Honorably discharged against her will?” Clover’s brow scrunched. “What circumstances warrant something like [i]that?[/i]”

“Ah, you know the Guard, they like to retire their veterans at their earliest inconvenience.” Star Swirl shrugged. “But she’s seen a fair bit of combat, so she’ll be an excellent teacher.”

“I suppose.” Clover sighed. “Anyways, where’d you send it?”

“Hm? Send what, dear?”

“The, umm…” Clover vaguely gesticulated with her hoof. “The experiment. The living gem.”

“Oh! Yes, that!” The bells in Star Swirl’s hat jingled as he motioned in a vague direction. “I sent it to Morning Breeze’s bedchambers.”

Clover blinked.

“You banished a minor eldritch monstrosity to your ex’s house?”

“Yes, of course!” Star Swirl nodded. “Why do you think I made it in the first place?”

Clover said nothing. Instead, she threw back another bitter swallow of lukewarm tea. Her heart gave a little fibrillation in complaint, but she ignored it.

“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and leave for training. That way I’ll have a decent alibi,” she finally said as she made her way for the door.

“Good thinking!” Star Swirl hung up his hat and stretched. “I think I’m going to get a nap, myself. It’s difficult business staying up all night, you know.”

“Yes, I do. Goodbye, Star Swirl.”

“Ta-ta, Clover!”

The door latch clicked shut behind her.

[hr]

Castle Ever Free’s training grounds were entirely empty save for the occasional groups of out-of-uniform guards who were clearly making their way to somewhere more important. Which made the unicorn mare that Clover assumed was Glowing Dawn stick out like the minotaur in the room.

She was the only pony there who seemed to have any sort of purpose being at the grounds, sitting on the grass near the center, sweeping her gaze across the grounds like an eagle perched on a cliff. Her mane was a pale violet only a shade or two darker than her coat, which was mostly covered up by a set of padded sparing armor. A second set was wrapped up in a bundle by her feet.

There must have been something about Clover that screamed “not-a-soldier”, because the moment the former guardsmare spotted her, her eyes locked on with an almost palpable intensity.

As Clover neared, Glowing Dawn opened her mouth.

“You must be Clover.” Her voice was hoarser and scratchier than Clover expected.

“And you must be Glowing.”

“Dawn,” the older mare corrected.

Clover took a moment to really study the pony in front of her. Her figure was trimmed and sleek, with a compact strength that wouldn’t have looked out of place for a young pony in their prime. But wrinkles creased around her eyes and mouth gave away hints about her true age.

“You look horrible,” said Dawn. She must have been studying Clover right back.

“I know,” Clover replied. “I feel horrible too.”

“Good. That means you’ll remember today well.” She stood up and tossed Clover the other set of sparing equipment. “Put it on.”

“Sure. Sure, sure.”

Clover awkwardly pawed at the bundle for a moment before lifting in a cloud of magic and undoing the strings that held it together. Immediately, the well-packed mass fell apart, and all the pieces of padded equipment fell to the grass.

Dawn, noticeably, didn’t lift a hoof to help.

Sighing, Clover plopped the padded helmet—the most recognizable piece of the bunch—on top of her head. It was only when she started to struggle with getting the chestguard on that Dawn offered any sort of assistance.

“You’ve got it on backwards,” she said. “Straps go around your belly. Long one in front, short one at the back.”

A minute or two later, Clover figured it out. And then it was on to the next piece.

“That’s a shoulder guard. Put your foreleg through it.”

And the next.

“Back left shin guard. Pointy end goes down.”

When it was finally all done, Dawn gave Clover a quick top-to-bottom inspection. Clover, meanwhile, did her best to just breathe. It was tight, hot and heavy. She could already feel herself breaking out into a sweat, even in the chilly fall air.

“Looks good,” said Dawn. “From now on, show up in gear. We’ll start off each morning with a run.”

“A run?” Clover’s eyes widened. “Like this? Right now?”

“Yes,” said Dawn. “Right now.”

A little part of Clover died.

[hr]

If training had been hard, then the walk home was agonizing. Clover was drenched horn to hoof in sweat, which the late September cold had taken full advantage of to leave her a shivering, aching mess by the time she pushed open the door to Star Swirl’s cottage.

Inside, a pair of ponies looked up to greet the new arrival. Star Swirl was sitting at the little tea table, with Pansy at the other end. They seemed to have been in the middle of a pleasant conversation over a pot of tea.

Clover hated them both just a little at that moment.

“Is that tea still hot?” she asked as soon as she shut the door behind her.

When Pansy nodded, Clover levitated the teapot and poured it out into empty air. Another burst from her horn caught the spilled tea mid-air in a bubble of magic, which she brought to her lips immediately.

The steaming liquid burned a raw spot into her tongue, but as soon as it was down her throat it worked miracles for her. The warmth seemed to trickle through her veins to every part of her body, down to her hooves. She didn’t move a muscle until all of it was gone.

“Star Swirl told me you were out doing PT,” said Pansy. “Honestly, I almost didn’t believe him until ten seconds ago.”

“Pansy, dear sweet Pansy,” said Clover as she collapsed onto the couch next to the pegasus warrior. “I don’t know how you do this every day. I feel like my eyes could spill out of their sockets right now.”

Pansy giggled and ran her hoof through Clover’s mane. Instantly, Clover’s universe was a much happier place.

“That’s how everypony feels the first time they actually use their muscles,” said Pansy.

“You’re making me feel like a filly.”

“Well, I’m still very proud of you.” Pansy leant over and placed a kiss on Clover’s cheek.

Star Swirl coughed. It was a conspicuous cough. It was a nervous cough.

Clover rolled her eyes.

“We’d better cut it out,” she told Pansy. “You know how the old grump is with affectionate displays of the public kind.”

“I find them somewhat distasteful,” huffed Star Swirl. “Especially within my own house.”

Pansy shrugged. “He’s got a point. Sit up, now.”

Groaning, Clover complied.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” she asked as she forced her tired muscles to prop her up against the back of the sofa.

Pansy took a sip of her tea and put down the cup before pointing to Star Swirl. “Well, technically I’m supposed to be arresting him.”

Clover looked the two over.

“Oh,” she said. “Morning Breeze?”

“Countess Breeze was very… insistent that Star Swirl be brought to court for sending some sort of magical demon to her bedroom.”

“Perhaps I did, and perhaps I didn’t,” said Star Swirl. “The banishment spell I used had a significant chance of simply sending the creature to a parallel universe. In that case, the living gem that Countess Breeze’s guards destroyed would have simply been a coincidental arrival from another parallel universe. And if you could convict ponies for the crimes of their parallel selves, we’d have Morning Breeze executed by nightfall! Trust me, I’ve seen some of the things that she hasn’t done!”

Clover sighed. “We’ve been through this song and dance before; just give her your apology and pay for the damages before this becomes another big thing.”

Star Swirl huffed. “Very well. It was a poorly thought-out joke, I’ll admit. I can do far better next time.” The wizard got up out of his chair and towards the stairs. “Let me go fetch my cloak and my apology goggles. Hopefully, we can get this whole thing out of the way by lunchtime.”

As he turned the corner out of sight, Pansy looked at Clover.

“I’m betting that you don’t want to come with.”

“Ugh.” Clover rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t slept in almost twenty-one hours. So no, I think I’ll pass.”

“Okay,” said Pansy. She stroked Clover’s mane again. “Take a nap. We’ll be back before too long.”

“Oh, wait wait!” Clover sat upright as she remembered something. “I need to ask you a question before I forget.”

“Hm?”

“Star Swirl said that my new training instructor was ‘honorably discharged against her will’ from the guard.” Clover scrunched her muzzle. “When in the heck does something like [i]that[/i] ever happen?”

Pansy’s smile faded a bit. “Well, mandatory honorable discharge is actually not that uncommon. It’s usually for injuries and the like.”

“Well, let me tell you,” said Clover, oblivious to Pansy’s shift in mood, “I’m pretty sure my teacher wasn’t, like, maimed or anything. She worked me like a broom!”

“Not all scars are on the outside, Clover,” said Pansy.

Her voice was almost never this quiet anymore. Clover’s ear flicked.

“Oh.” Clover felt pretty stupid at that moment.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, though,” said Pansy, fidgeting. “There are political and bureaucratic reasons for being discharged, too.”

“I see,” said Clover. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say something so stupid.”

“No harm done,” said Pansy, right as Star Swirl’s approaching steps clip-clopped through the hall.

“Sergeant Pansy!” he called out. “Are you prepared to escort me to the lair of the witch?”

“Yes. Let’s go.” Pansy got off the chair and blew Clover a kiss. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Wake me up, okay? I don’t want to miss lunch.”

“Sure thing,” said Pansy.

Soldier and wizard walked out the door.

[hr]

 After two months of training, Clover had fooled herself into thinking she was improving. Being flung full-force onto her back promptly dispelled that notion.

“Again,” said Dawn. Her breath fogged up the cold air. “Your guard was too low. Shoulders forward, bend the knees. Don’t lock up.”

Clover staggered to her feet and did her best to improve her stance. Fifteen seconds later, the exact same tackle from Dawn landed her in the ground again.

“What did I say about those shoulders, Clover? If they’re too far back, you can’t put your weight into countering mine.”

“Sorry,” said Clover as she stumbled back up. “But it’s freezing! I can barely feel half my coat right now.”

“Then a run should warm you back up.” Dawn smiled slyly. “Two laps around the yard,” she said as she led with a brisk pace. “If I lap you, you’re doing another one.”

Groaning, Clover did her best to follow. By the first lap, Dawn had accumulated a sizable lead, while Clover only grew lagged farther behind. When they pulled around to the final stretch, Clover was struggling just to keep moving. Finally, she made it to Dawn, who was running in place waiting for her.

“Warm yet?” Dawn said with a lopsided grin.

“Honestly?” Clover gasped out. “Not really.”

“Well, at least you’re limber now.” Dawn lowered herself into an attacking stance. “Guard up, again.”

Clover shakily got into position and waited for Dawn’s assault.

A movement in the corner of her vision caught her attention. Her eyes focused just in time to catch a glimpse of a tiny white speck floating in the breeze before it landed on her nose. It melted and nipped her with a bite of cold.

Then Dawn slammed into her.

As soon as she caught her breath again, Clover was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Dawn asked, with an intrigued confusion in her voice.

“It’s actually snowing,” Clover snorted. “That’s how cold it is right now!”

“No it isn’t!” said Dawn.

“Yeah, it is,” Clover pointed.

Another snowflake glided on a breeze and landed on Glowing Dawn’s chest. She stiffened and brushed it off.

“It isn’t supposed to snow today. I checked the weather schedule,” Dawn hissed.

“Well, things happen you know.”

“They aren’t supposed to just [i]happen![/i]” Dawn snapped. She turned towards the nearest barracks. “Let’s go. We need to talk to whoever’s in charge.”

Clover blinked. Dawn had never interrupted their training mid-session before, and honestly a little part of her was relieved at the thought of a break. Scrambling onto her feet, she followed Dawn as the snowfall began to grow heavier.

As soon as they were inside, Dawn shook herself off and patted away the snow on her shoulder guards almost desperately. A pegasus guard happened to walk by at that moment, and Dawn almost leapt at him.

“You!” she barked. “Why in Tartarus is it snowing right now?”

Clover nearly jumped at the volume of Dawn’s voice.

“I’m not on weather duty, ma’am.” The guard’s voice was clipped and even. “But honestly, with the humidity being what it is, I wouldn’t expect a couple of flurries to—”

“That’s not the point!” Dawn stomped the ground in frustration. “Today was scheduled as precipitation-free. It’s your job to keep it that way! How am I supposed to train when it’s snowing?”

“Hey!” said Clover. “Let’s take it easy, okay? The guy said he’s not a weather pony.”

Clover reached out and put a hoof on Dawn’s shoulder. Immediately, the older mare recoiled with a sharp intake of breath. Clover leapt back in surprise.

Dawn’s eyes snapped shut as she fought to regain control of her breathing. When they opened again several moments later, they locked on to the pegasus.

“Where can I find the weather ponies?” she asked. “They need to clean this up right now. [i]Right now.[/i]”

“Some of them on today’s shift should be in the third barracks,” he said, “but that’s really all I know, ma’am.”

Immediately, Dawn made a beeline for the door.

“Hey, hold on a second!” Clover was still winded from their run, but she prepared to give chase. Only to find Dawn frozen at the edge of the door. Outside, the snow was really starting to come down, much more.

Dawn’s breathing hissed in short burst between her teeth, sending little plumes of fog into the frigid air.

She stood there, eyes screwed shut and unmoving, for a long minute.

“Hey,” said Clover. “I’ll go. I’ll tell the weather ponies to clear this up right away, okay?”

“No!” Dawn cried. It wasn’t a yell or even a shout—it was much closer to a scream. “You can’t!”

Dawn grabbed her head, as if she had been struck, and fell onto the floor. A moment later, she was in tears. A desperate, quiet wail left her mouth as if her breath had been physically squeezed out of her chest.

Several guardsponies in the barracks had begun to congregate around the commotion. Clover shot a couple of them dirty looks and elected to ignore the rest. She knelt down to put her arms around Dawn. Every muscle in her toned body was rock-solid with tension.

“That’s how they do it,” Dawn croaked out between the sobs. “They hide and they wait and get you separated. And they wait for you to leave for help. They wait for you to try to find your friends. That’s how they get you!”

“The windigos are gone, Dawn. They’re gone for good.”

Dawn shook her head.

“They’re waiting. They’re always waiting.” Her wide, tear-filled eyes met Clover’s. “You can’t go out there again. They’ll take you again.”

Clover squeezed Dawn’s hoof.

“Dawn, it’s me. It’s Clover,” she reminded her. “You know who I am, right? We got rid of the windigos, me, Pansy, and Cookie. You know that they’re gone, don’t you?”

A light of recognition passed across Dawn’s eyes.

“I know. I know,” she said. The tension drained out of her body, and her sobbing renewed. “I know, I know, I know…”

She tried to get back on her feet, and Clover helped her up. Gently, she guided Dawn away from the door and towards the barracks’ fireplace. Somepony silently handed them a blanket, and Clover thanked them. She draped it over Dawn’s shoulders as they both sat next to the crackling fire.

“I’m sorry,” Dawn said. Her voice was even croakier than usual.

“It’s okay, Dawn.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Dawn pulled the blanket tighter around her. A long moment of silence stretched on, and one by one the ponies that had gathered around them broke off and busied themselves somewhere else in the barracks.

When had been alone for a while Dawn swallowed and spoke.

“Do you have a special somepony?”

 Clover was caught off-guard.

“Y-yeah, I do.”

Another minute-long silence passed.

“How do you know that you deserve them?” asked Dawn.

“I—I don’t really know.” Clover ran a hoof through her mane. “I’m sorry.”

A much longer silence than before lingered before Dawn opened her mouth again.

“I’m a grandmare,” she said. “My Stella had two foals four months ago. Twins.”

“That’s wonderful,” Clover said, and she tried to put some heart into it.

Dawn shook her head.

“I don’t know what to do with them,” she said. “I know I love my Stella. And I think I love them, but I don’t like looking at them. I don’t like the sounds they make, and I don’t like thinking about them.”

Clover didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t understand anything at all anymore,” said Dawn. “I don’t know what’s going to happen anymore. And I’m so tired.”

“My special somepony used to have bad days too, a lot,” said Clover. “Sometimes things are still really hard.”

Dawn was quiet. Clover continued.

“I’ve learned that with her, sometimes you shouldn’t let yourself think about the future,” said Clover. “It sucked her in, sometimes, and she couldn’t even get out of bed. She’d miss training, and she’d feel even worse.

“Sometimes, you just have to take life one day at a time. She says that anypony can survive one bad day; you just gotta take care of this one before you think about the next one.”

“One day at a time,” echoed Dawn.

“Yeah,” said Clover. “Just one at a time isn’t as bad, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

Dawn pulled the blanket tighter around herself and sat back. The two of them watched the fire burn until all the wood had turned into white, crumbly ash.

[hr]