Derpy stood overlooking the ocean. Under her hooves, the sturdiness of the coastal bluffs kept her in place, reassuring her with the crunch of rocks beneath each hoofstep.

Ahead, the ocean stretched as far as she could see. Further than that, even. Was there a word for further than she could see? Forever?

The seafoam sparkled as it burbled against the base of the cliff far below. The waves were strong, and loud, but they were down there, and Derpy was up here. She wasn’t scared.

She remembered the storm.

It was a grey day. She looked like the clouds. Her mom said that. Said.

The clouds were angry. Derpy could tell because they hissed when her mom flew over them. Derpy didn’t fly over them because she couldn’t fly. Her mom flew, and carried her. It felt safe, but not during the storm.

She remembered the last hiss, so loud, and the crack, and the sha-thump, and then the cloud was very angry and Derpy’s whole self hurt and then her mom let go and the cloud was too mad to hold her so she fell.

Even though it hurt, she opened her eyes. The whole ground was a cloud that was moving, except bigger, and getting closer and bigger and still hurting and then it caught her. it wasn’t a cloud because it was too dark, and Derpy didn’t bounce. She fell. It was cold and wet.

She thought she would fall forever, and after a while she opened her mouth but found out the water was bad for breathing and then she got really scared – but it was okay because her mom found her and pulled her up and she could breathe without hurting.

Her mom had trouble swimming. She splashed a lot and had to hold Derpy up and the cloud got worse and turned to a big rain really fast, and then into wind, and then Derpy couldn’t see anything but grey and cloud and her mom and sometimes more water.

After a while Derpy was really tired and had a hard time staying up, and her mom was splashing even more and kept saying things but Derpy couldn’t hear them because the storm was too loud and there was more and more water.

Derpy’s mom looked really sad when she went underneath the water. Derpy was sad too, and she went under the water also and because she couldn’t stay up and it was dark and far and scary and she couldn’t see or breathe and where did her mom go and she thought she would close her eyes and never wake up.

But something pulled her up. It felt like a big poofy ball underneath her, so light that Derpy was floating, and she shot up and there was the sky and the clouds were going away and Derpy didn’t have to hold herself up when something else was. So she floated for a long time until she got splashed onto a beach and laid down and rested because she was so tired, and when she woke up there were two ponies there who picked her up and took her somewhere and gave her ice cream and said look, and when she looked her side had bubbles on it and they had stayed there after that.

Derpy opened her eyes.

The crackle of the skyline greeted her every year, but it wasn’t enough to keep her away. She came anyway, for her.

On the horizon, the clouds of a thousand storms brewed. But they were there, and she was here. Derpy kept her stare to the distance as she held up the flower she had brought with her. Red, with a grey wrap, like a cloud, and foil that crinkled like lightning when you touched it.

Derpy closed her eyes and let go of the flower. It fell gently until it reached the dark, turning surface of the ocean, where it was swallowed instantly, the bright petals disappearing beneath the waves.

Derpy remembered.

After a few minutes of remembering, she opened her eyes and flew up and away into the clouds. They were grey, just like her.