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Violets
Wingtip to wingtip, the Wonderbolts shot upward into the blue. Rainbow Dash looked straight ahead, locked into formation and felt the universe follow. Her blood kept pace with the wind that rose among their wings: each pulse a heartbeat. Here everything kept time at once, and everything was clear.
Climbing faster, their bright arrow breached a canopy of cold. On the edge of her vision Dash could see the outside flyers, right on schedule, breaking away in widening arcs. She held her position and spiraled higher, higher, higher, laughing into the sun. At the apogee of her flight, she stopped. For one breath nothing moved at all. Wings tucked, eyes closed, she hung suspended between the forces of nature and those of her own will. To see it from the ground was eerie, even for a seasoned veteran. But the flyer alone in the sky, in the silent space, was a feather’s width from heaven.
The descent began and she drew a slow breath, diving down, falling fast. Cheers from below rose up to reach her over the rushing wind. They joined with the atoms of the air that crackled and hummed around her. It closed in until, halfway to earth, it began to bend. Electric sparks ran over every nerve as she gathered its energy in. The light of her magic burst forth at once, a many-colored fimbriation, prismatic contrails spreading in her wake. With a final shout she broke the wall.
On the ground there would be more shouting and cheers of delight at the whipcrack they’d hear. But Rainbow Dash heard none of it now, only the blood roaring in her ears and her heart near the speed of sound. The noise was behind her, and the ring of skyfire, and all but the boundless way ahead. And all of it was hers.
Low along the runway, one last pass for the crowd. At last she circled and slowed and stuck the landing, grinning.
“Awesome teamwork, team!” Dash exchanged high-hooves with each of them, secretly congratulating herself on her modesty.
“YOU’RE awesome!” Soarin nudged her. “That was incredible!” The ponies chimed in their agreement.
“Aw, thanks.” Her grin broadened. “I am pretty awesome.”
“Nice flying, Crash.” Spitfire’s mouth twitched, barely hinting at a smile. “Looks like you set a new altitude record.”
“All RIGHT! Cider’s on me tonight, guys! Let’s go!”
“Dial up your drag, flygirl. Got something for you. This just arrived.” Spitfire produced a thin envelope from a satchel at her side. Rainbow Dash raised her eyebrows but took the envelope, hunkering down to see what was inside.
The other Wonderbolts looked on curiously. A few seconds passed. Their friend’s face faltered, then went pale before their eyes.
After a few more seconds, Spitfire ventured, “Rainbow Dash? Is everything OK?”
The pale blue pegasus looked up at her captain as if she didn’t recognize her. “I...uh...uh?” Her eyes were wide and her breath came short and shallow.
“Are. You. OK?” Spitfire frowned and stepped in closer. “Is it altitude sickness? Air gets thin up there.”
“Y...yeah. Must be.” Still dazed and shaking slightly, Dash stood up. “Just...need to take five.”
Spitfire nodded. “Misty. Keep an eye out for her. The last thing we need is Wonderbolts falling from the sky. Report immediately if her condition changes.” She looked around at the others. “Good work today, everyone. Dismissed.”
The ponies dispersed and Rainbow Dash moved slowly away, stopping to stare out over a field of sun-bronzed clouds. Misty Fly stood watchful, but she read something in Rainbow’s face and kept a careful distance.
Five minutes later, Rainbow Dash was facing the captain over the wide gulf of her desk, composed but remote. “Captain?”
“Yes, Rainbow Dash.”
“There’s been a death in my family. I have to go home for a few days.”
“Oh, kid, I’m sorry. That’s rough. Go ahead, and take the time you need. I trust you’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“As soon as I can, ma’am. Thank you.”
Spitfire nodded again and raised a stiff salute that Dash returned, uncommonly solemn.
“Right, then. You are dismissed.”
Rainbow Dash turned to go, but halted when Spitfire spoke her name again. “Ma’am?”
“Take care, kid.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you had an uncle, Rainbow Dash.”
Rarity sat by Rainbow’s side, both of them sinking in the center of the cloudlike bed. The soft glow of Rarity’s magic surrounded them, and over and over a brush was gently smoothing the rainbow mane.
“Uncle Sirocco. He’s--he was my mom’s kid brother. I called him Rocco. He moved away when I was pretty young, but before that I used to see him all the time.”
“Sirocco?” Twilight looked up from the lists she was organizing for her friend’s trip, meticulously detailed despite the nearness and brevity of the stay. “Sirocco the Wonderbolt?”
“Yeah. For a little while, anyway. I guess he had more interesting stuff to do. But while it lasted he was the awesomest, the most--”
“--Fearless flyer to dare the skies!” Twilight joined in. Pinkie cheered. Scootaloo, curled up at the foot of the bed, gave an echo.
“You saw him?”
“Well, not exactly,” said Twilight. “But Cadance had his poster! She thought he was ‘dreamy.’ And he’s in at least one of my books, you know.”
Rainbow Dash smiled for the first time since her hooves had touched the ground.
“He always took me flying. I think I learned to love the sky from him. And he--he always believed in me.”
Fluttershy scooted closer on the bed, resting her chin on Rainbow’s shoulder. “He sounds very nice.”
The blue pegasus leaned back and sighed, suddenly tired. “I just wish... I wish we had more time.”
Applejack set a large basket of food at the edge of the bed, near Scootaloo. “Course you do, sugarcube.” She plucked a small apple up by its stem and brought it to the bedside table, where Pinkie Pie was pouring a glass of milk.
“Time’s the one thing we can’t never get enough of.” Her green eyes met Rainbow’s and held them steady. “Sometimes people leave before we’re ready for ‘em to go. Sometimes a long time before. And it ain’t fair.” She shook her head.
“No,” said Rainbow quietly. “It hurts.”
“Ah know it does, sugar. Ah know.”
Applejack climbed up onto the bed and hugged her friend close. Slowly, the rest of Rainbow Dash’s circle drew in, and they clasped each other tight.
Scootaloo broke the silence at last, piping up from the center of their protective ring. “Can I come with you?”
“Of course you can. I wouldn’t go without you, Scoots. But I think we’d better go tonight. Mom and dad need us.”
“Won’t you try to eat a little before you go?” Rarity asked.
Rainbow Dash gave the apple on the table a rueful look. “Not just yet. My stomach is still experiencing some turbulence. Gosh, I haven’t even told you guys about the maneuvers today!”
“We’ll all look forward to hearing it,” said Twilight, “But for now, I think you should save your strength. Let us help you get ready.”
“And you will eat later. When you can.” Applejack, not asking.
“Yes, mother.”
“Yes, mother.” Scootaloo giggled.
“Hey, half-pint,” said Rainbow, ruffling her mane. “What about your appetite?”
“I’m always hungry!”
Rainbow Dash lifted the basket and deposited it in front of the filly. It was nearly her size.
“Dig in.”
“Mom? Dad? It’s me. Us. Are you here?”
Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo stepped into a dim and strangely quiet room. As they unloaded their parcels--overnight bags, flowers from Rarity, and the basket of food, now lighter by half--some muffled sounds approached from the back of the house. Then two silhouettes filled the doorway ahead, two shadows flowed out to meet them.
One shadow was tall and broad, edged with a muted palette in the fading daylight. The other, for the moment, seemed so slight that it might disappear into the floor. Rainbow Dash bridged the distance to her parents in two long strides, and buried herself in the crush of their embrace.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m home.”
“Baby,” her mother murmured. “My baby.”
The scratch and bristle of her father’s face filled Rainbow with a long-lost warmth. Her mother’s scent was the same as ever and somehow still surprising, that starchy mix of roots and flour with the spice of her favorite cookies. Yes, she was home.
When they lifted their heads, she was startled by her parents’ eyes. Neither had slept, she could tell, and Mom’s usually vibrant eyes were cloudy and rimmed with red. Still, when Windy met her daughter’s gaze, she smiled.
“Hello, Scoots.” It was the first time Bow had spoken, and his voice came out an odd wet rumble. He cleared his throat, freeing an arm to reach for Scootaloo, who gladly joined the family hug.
“Hello, Scootaloo. I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners. Can I get you two something to eat? You must be so hungry.”
“No, Mom, that’s okay.” Rainbow Dash looked at Scootaloo. “There’s some food in the basket here, and Rarity sent these flowers.” She gestured to the white lilies blooming in a crystal vase.
“Oh, how lovely.” Windy smiled again. “That Rarity is so thoughtful.”
“I guess we should all try to eat something,” Rainbow continued. “Why don’t I fix something for you?”
“You don’t have to do that, honey.”
“I want to. How hard can it be to make a whole mess of pasta and potato sandwiches?”
“We get to make a mess?” Scootaloo squealed.
“Figure of speech, kiddo.”
“Well, all right,” said Windy. “It would be nice to sit down for a while. Just be careful.”
“Why?”
She answered with an enigmatic smile.
“The pastato sandwich is deceptively simple,” Bow explained.
“Minutes to learn,” Windy added. “Years to master.”
“Riiiight. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. You’ll be the best pasta potato sandwich maker ever! Just call me if you get in too deep.”
After the meal, they retired to the living room and sat together in the comfortable silence that only comes from full bellies and empty plates. They’d scarcely spoken throughout dinner except to compliment the chefs--the best ever, of course--or to ask each other to pass the salt. Rainbow Dash thought her first attempt at the highly sophisticated pastato sandwich didn’t taste much like the original. Still, everyone offered rave reviews.
“All that and she can cook!” Bow thumped his daughter on the back, breaking the after-dinner lull. “My daughter the Wonderbolt, chef extraordinaire!”
“You may have got the flying from your uncle,” Windy laughed, “But not the cooking, that’s for sure!” Then everyone was laughing.
“Did he try to cook for you, Mom?”
“Oh, he tried. He tried and tried.” She paused, and the smile on her face remained, but it drifted into sadness. “Bless his heart.”
“A man of the world was our Sirocco,” said Bow. “Always finding exotic new recipes to try on us. Mostly they wound up half-burnt. But only half, mind you! Some of it was edible. And he was so creative. So creative.”
“He was getting better, I think.”
“He was.”
“What was your favorite dish?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Ermm.” Bow exchanged glances with his wife. “Well. Hmmm. He made so many.”
“So many.”
“What about the, uh…”
“Rice?”
“Rice! He was good at rice.”
“Almost never burnt the water.”
“Rice?” Rainbow Dash looked skeptical.
“You remember, dear.” Windy seemed to be in the process of remembering, herself. “The yellow rice!”
An image appeared in Rainbow’s mind, and suddenly her palate was flooded with remembered tastes.
“The yellow rice. He...He made that every year. For me.” Rainbow Dash turned to Scootaloo. “At Hearth’s Warming.”
“Yellow rice?” it was Scootaloo’s turn to be dubious.
“I wish you could try it, Scoots. It comes from across the sea. Tastes like nothing you’ve ever tried. And he added things. Other things I never would have tasted if it weren’t for him. There was fruit from a vine he found in the desert and dried on the stones of a ruined temple. Pine tree nuts from a mountain ridge you can only reach when the moon is full. Yak butter melted on golden carrots and cinnamon from the garden of a queen!”
“Wow, did he tell you all that?” Bow was stroking the stubble of his beard. “He told so many stories, I guess I’ve forgotten half of them.”
“What do you mean, ‘stories,’ Dad?”
“Oh, you know. He was a storyteller. He liked to entertain.”
“Sure, he had lots of cool stories about his adventures! Why wouldn’t he?”
“No reason, dear,” said Windy. “I know you’re very proud of him.”
“Aren’t you?”
For a moment Windy looked like she might cry. Rainbow Dash stammered and tried to speak, but her mother was first to find her voice, level and low.
“I love my brother.” She took a deep breath and let go. “I’ve always loved my brother. I always will.”
“I know, Mom.” Rainbow looked downcast. “Me too.”
Bow spoke up abruptly. “We should get some sleep. The Major will be here tomorrow with Silver and Squall, and knowing him, they’ll be here early.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Windy’s voice now was almost a bluster of pleasantry. “Rainbow hasn’t seen her cousins in such a long time, of course neither have we! Ha-ha! And Scootaloo, you’ve never met them at all! And The Major, of course, oh I think you’ll warm to him very quickly. He’s my father, you know, gave his whole life to the Corps, and the Corps just doesn’t think like you and I, of course they don’t, but the years have passed and he’s just a dear old man, and…”
She trailed off and blinked twice. “Excuse me, dears. My nerves today! I always talk too much when I get nervous.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
Bow stood at Windy’s side, draping his neck across hers and kissing the top of her head. She looked once again like a shadow that might melt away with one false flicker.
“Come along, my love. I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes. All right. Good night, children. I love you both.”
“Good night, Mama.”
“Good night. Mama.” A smaller voice, shyly tasting the word, answered with two swift, tear-salted kisses for her own.
Scootaloo trailed behind Rainbow Dash as they climbed the stairs to her old room. She was looking at the portraits that covered the walls. Most were pictures of Dash, though scattered among them were various relatives who looked a little or a lot like her.
“Where are Uncle Rocco’s pictures?”
“I’m not really sure. I never saw a lot of them. Mom said it’s because he didn’t like having his picture made, but--” Rainbow Dash spoke more quietly. “That never sounded like Uncle Rocco to me.”
She opened the door to her childhood sanctuary and ushered her guest inside--only Scootaloo didn’t really seem like a guest anymore, did she? Her filly friend was family now.
The room was just as Rainbow Dash remembered it, as it always had been, and she was glad. Fresh pillows and blankets were piled on the bed. There was her favorite old down pillow, cerulean emblazoned with a rainbow as brilliant as her youthful eyes recalled. “Here ya go, Scoots. Try this on for size!” She served it to her underhanded, miming the slowest and silliest of pillow fights.
The filly caught it easily but rolled off balance, fwumphing back with a giggle. “Really? Wow!” She examined the pillow with a kind of wonder, tracing her hoof along each arc of the rainbow.
“It’ll give you good dreams.” Rainbow Dash winked.
“Cool! Maybe I’ll dream of Uncle Rocco! Maybe I’ll see what he looks like!”
Rainbow Dash was fluffing out a blanket, casting it out to settle over Scootaloo like a mist rolling in from the coast. She arranged it with the tenderest care and brushed a stray wisp of pink from the child’s forehead. Fast asleep.
“Maybe I will, too.”
Sleep came less easy to Rainbow Dash. For a long while she lay in the dark, staring up at storms of clouds and star-stuff that silently spun on her ceiling. Searching for faces. Watching the luminous passage of all those faint colors: saffron, indigo, violet. Saffron. Indigo. Violet. Violet.
Violets, his eyes are violets. Like hers. Like her mother’s and her grandmother’s before her.
The stars are violets. The moon is a silver cup in a maiden’s hand, spilling the violet stars across the sky. He told her so.
The sky is indigo. She is peering out from the river that runs from the crown of his head to spill over his shoulders and swirl into the sky. Blue. Indigo. Violet. Silver streams among the stars and eddies in deep shadow.
“Catch me one, Unka. Catch me a star.”
The wind is on their faces. She has never flown so high. Running on air. Scattering starlight.
“I’ll help you catch one, Little Wing. Someday you’ll catch them all. Are you ready?”
Is she ready?
“Hold on tight.”
The sky is black now and the stars are huge. The moon-maid’s arm is beckoning. They’re so close. Will they be close enough to reach?
She holds the river like life itself as he bows his neck and she tumbles forward. His hooves are pounding the air in time with his wings, she swears she can hear it. And something else: the rush of blood, the heartbeat. Two of them together.
She looks down at the river, then up at eternity, and this moonlight child is something most remarkable.
She is not afraid.
“Go on,” she whispers. “Send me up. I can do it.”
“I know you can.”
She lets go and he tosses his great proud head to the night, defying it to stop them.
And she is flying. All on her own, barely grown into her wings, she is flying ten thousand feet above the ground. She has found the greatest thing she’s ever known.
Or ever will.
Seconds fill a year’s expanse in her fledgling outsize heart. The sky holds her frozen in time. Calling to the stars, she feels their light inscribe her lungs with a billion violets. All the lines spell love. Her eyes close and her wings wrap round her and she lets herself fall.
She lands in the river, of course, and scatters all her violets in the stream.
The peal of a bugle split the morning air. A bolt of sunlight conspired to pierce the high window of Rainbow’s room, and the two pegasi stirred grumbling from their separate dreams.
“RISE AND SHINE! IT IS OH-SIX-HUNDRED ON THE DOT. MY DOT, SWEETHEARTS, NOT YOUR DOT. THIS IS YOUR CALL TO MUSTER. FAAAALL IN!”
It was a voice that sounded amplified, but was in truth all natural. “S...Spitfire?” Rainbow’s voice was gravelly. “Why would she…”
“Dad.” Another voice from below--Bow’s, it sounded like. It carried up the stairs as Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash staggered toward it. “You still carry around that ridiculous thing?”
“THE MIND THRIVES ON ORDER, YOUNG MAN. ORDER AND DISCIPLINE.”
“Order and discipline, you got it.” Windy’s voice. “You’ve always been the best orderer-discipliner I know, Dad. Do you want some coffee?”
“Just fine, just fine.” The Major seemed satisfied, for the moment, his voice at least approaching an “inside” level. Not, thought Rainbow, a morning one. “Where are those boys of mine? Hop to it, lads!”
“Hiya, Gramps. Good to see ya.”
The Major turned, unsmiling, to his only granddaughter. “Gramps, eh?” She caught the tiny twinkle in his sharp blue eyes. “Guess they still teach newbie sass at that Academy of yours.”
“No, Sir. I came by that naturally.”
The old stallion barked with laughter, clasping her in a bear of a hug. “Good to see you too, Little Wing.”
Rainbow Dash felt her ears burning, grateful for the hug that hid her quivering jaw.
“And who’s this famous flying ace?” The Major knelt, regarding Scootaloo.
“I’m Scootaloo! Sir!”
“She’s a Cutie Mark Crusader, Grampa. It’s a very important job.”
“Then it’s a good name for a good filly. Honored to meet you, Scootaloo.”
“Hey, me too!”
“Me too! Me too!”
Two tall and wiry stallions, blue-maned and grey, were laden with luggage and trying to fit through the front door at the same time.
“That’s enough, boys! Settle down and make your manners.”
“Right.”
“Right!”
They both bowed gallantly to Scootaloo. Up close it was easier to tell them apart. One, like the Major, bore a dusting of white dapples. The other was more slightly built, and his forelock was a silver streak.
“I’m Snow Squall,” said the first.
“I’m Silver Fog,” said the other. “But you can call him Squall.”
“And you can call him Silver.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Scootaloo replied.
“Squall! Silver!” Rainbow Dash hurtled into them as soon as it seemed proper.
“Hey there, half-pint!” Squall tousled her mane.
“Hi, Rainbow.” Silver smiled.
“Wow, you guys got big.”
“It happens.” Squall tossed his head nonchalantly and flexed a bicep.
“You’ve grown up too,” said Silver.
“Y’know, been workin’ out.”
“Oh yeah?” Squall leaned in. “Wanna spar? Huh? Huh?”
“Take it outside, kids. AFTER I’ve had my coffee.” The Major settled down at the kitchen table.
“And breakfast, I’ll make us all some breakfast.” Windy hugged the twins in turn, then bustled off to work.
By mid-afternoon, the family was lazing outside between bouts of wrestling and cloudwork and communal eating. Rainbow Dash swayed in a hammock in the soft breeze, while the twins leaned back against the stoop looking slightly battered, but pleased.
“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash. “I had a dream last night. I think. About Uncle Rocco.”
“Did you, dear?” said Windy. “What was it about?”
“Oh it was the best! It was the night he took me flying for the first time--really flying! All by myself!”
“All by yourself,” her mother echoed.
“You remember, don’t you? I couldn’t have been more than--”
“A baby.”
“Aww, c’mon, I wasn’t a baby.”
“You were MY baby. Rainbow, he didn’t ask if you could go. I was frightened half to death that night. Your father, too.”
“Frightened.” Bow grunted. “Sirocco’s lucky I didn’t frighten him.”
“But you did. There’s a reason he never tried that stunt again.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash frowned as if she’d made a calculation she couldn’t explain. “Is...that why?”
“You could have been badly hurt,” said her father. “Even--” he stopped short.
“But I WASN’T! I had the best time of my life up there! Ever! Did you take that away from me because you thought I wasn’t GOOD ENOUGH? Did you send HIM away?”
“No!” her parents shouted.
“Then…” she looked helplessly from one face to the next. “Why did he go?”
“We don’t know, dear.” Windy looked to her husband, desperate to send that expression forever from their daughter’s face. “A...A lot of reasons. But none of them were you.”
“No,” said Bow. “Never you. You know how much he cared for you.”
“I thought I did.” Some of the misery was fleeing now, replaced by simple sad confusion.
“Take it from us, kiddo.” Squall and Silver were flanking her, two pillars of steadfast steel. “Dad was never easy to understand.”
“For anyone,” said Silver. "Especially once Mother was gone. I’ve asked myself questions you probably haven’t even thought of yet. Some I just gave up on.” He studied his hooves, then met her eyes, so like her own and like his father’s. “But I know he loved us, Rainbow. All of us. In his way.”
“In his way.”
“It’s all anybody can do, little love,” said Bow. “In his way...he was better than most.”
The air around them whistled into the silence that followed. Scootaloo hummed a few notes to herself.
“Susurrus,” sighed the Major.
Scootaloo hummed on. “Hmmm?”
‘Susurrus,” said Rainbow Dash, then: “Grandmother.”
The breeze came alive. Somewhere a windchime sounded.
“Lady, is that you?” The Major was up on the lawn now, standing upright at attention. He had removed his service cap, and the rising wind played through his coarse and close-cropped mane.
“Susurrus! Speak to me. Please.”
Bow put his arm around Windy as they watched from the porch above. The wind was rippling now, pulling at banners and skimming at clouds, tossing and tangling manes and tails and singing oh, so sweetly.
It brushed the water streaming from the Major’s staring eyes. The chimes grew louder and the song rose steadily to a howl. And still it was lovely.
Grandfather sang too. A storm was brewing, grey on grey, and it tore the song from his lips but he did not stop. The howl became a wordless prayer released into the atmosphere. The sibilance took on another shape. This time it struggled through Grandfather’s teeth, wrenched from his mouth in a pained and wretched cry:
“SIROCCO!”
The wind screamed on as long as he, and not an instant longer. When it passed, the old war-pegasus crouched, bowed into the storm that had broken around him.
“Sirocco,” he sighed again. “My son.”
“We’re here, Daddy.” Windy descended and draped her hooves around him.
Silver Fog was watching the horizon, where the sky was once more clear and bright.
“I think we’re not the only ones.”
“We’re overdue for a meal. Don’t you think?”
“My paunch is growing quite respectable,” said Bow, “But you’re the captain, captain.”
“I think we are. Rainbow--Scootaloo--Silver--Squall.” She favored them each with her sweetest smile. “Would you kids like to go to the market? Just take this list, if you would, and gather a few things for supper. You’re such good gatherers!”
“Sure, Mom.”
Silver pranced to the front of the line. “Okay pegasi, let’s get in formation!”
Rainbow Dash stretched and fanned her wings. “Hooves in saddles, Scootaladdles.”
“Whaha?”
“Come aboard! We’re going flying!”
Squall brought up the rear, and their little party set upon its way. The market wasn’t far, but the resourceful young ponies found time enough for aerial horseplay and fun. By the time they reached their destination, all of them were laughing, momentarily carefree. Squall’s voice rang out above the din.
“I don’t know, but I been told!”
“I don’t know, but I been told!”
“Major Gramps is really old!”
“Major Gramps is really old!”
“Tell ya how he got that way!”
“Tell ya how he got that way!”
“Kickin’ tails and raisin’ hay!”
“Kickin’ tails and raisin’ hay!”
“SOUND OFF!”
“ONE-TWO!”
“SOUND OFF!”
“THREE-FOUR!”
“Rainbow is his grandest girl!”
“Rainbow is his grandest girl!”
“Got her mama in a whirl!”
[/i]“Got her mama in a whirl!”[/i]
“Won’t back off and won’t slow down!”
“Won’t back off and won’t slow down!”
“Crashing soon into your town!”
[/i]“Cra-ha-ha! Hashing soon into your TOWWWWN!”[/i]
The squadron fell apart, crying with laughter, rolling onto tufted clouds that gave like summer grass beneath them. Scootaloo popped up first. “Squadron!” she chirped. “Assemble!”
The older ponies promptly ceased their laughter, snapping to with military precision.
“Our mission is clear. Obtain the objective. Failure is not an option!”
“No ma’am!”
“Hup! Hup! Hup!”
They jogged into the market and fanned out, each with a piece of Windy’s grocery list.
“Reunited in no time flat,” Dash grinned when they met up front. “What a team.”
“It’s a family tradition.” Squall winked.
“Why hello there!” The mare at the counter sized them up with a tremendous smile. “Did you find what you needed today?”
“Sure did!” said Rainbow Dash.
“You’re Bow and Windy’s girl, aren’t you? Goodness, how you’ve grown!” She craned her neck to eye the twins in the back. “And you! Is that you?”
“We’re us,” Silver confirmed.
“By the sun, you are. Sirocco’s boys. Where is your father now?”
Two pairs of violet eyes, so like his own, shared this space of pained silence.
Rainbow mantled her wings around her cousins. It would surprise a stranger, seeing how far she could go to shelter them.
“Sirocco is no longer with us.”
“Ah.”
The market mare hesitated, eyes darting briefly to Scootaloo and back to Rainbow Dash.
“My condolences, then.”
They all shifted uncomfortably until the mare jumped at the job in front of her. Once remembered, she performed it with alacrity.
“Thank you for shopping have a nice day.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” said Rainbow. “You too.”
Not far along the road back home, she halted.
“What is it, Dash?” asked Squall. No one had spoken since they left the market.
“She gave me one too many.”
“Erm?”
“Coins. I have to take it back.”
“Righto, let’s go.”
“We don’t all need to go. I can deal with her. This. Go on ahead, guys.”
“Hey, nopony gets left behind.”
“I’ll go with her,” said Silver. “Buddy system.”
“A-OK, brother. Scootaloo?”
“Sir?”
Squall chuckled in spite of himself. “It’s a good time to practice our holding patterns.”
“Wilco, good buddy.”
Now they all laughed. Some of the wind had gone out of the sound, but laughing together, they knew, was better than what waited to get them alone.
“Just let me double check the receipt,” said Rainbow Dash. She stood with Silver just outside the shop, cast half in shadow. The voice of the mare at the counter carried from inside.
“I feel awful for those colts of his. You know he ran off to some Saddle Arabian nag before their mother was in the ground.”
Silver Fog froze. His face was a blank mask.
“I heard he was bewitched by an evil sorceress!”
“Same thing!” the voices cackled.
“To be brutally honest,” the first went on, “I think he had a mare in every port. And for years before that poor Simoom gave up the ghost."
Silver hadn’t moved or made a sound. Rainbow Dash was trembling. By the time she reached the counter the shaking had edged into her voice, but she kept it very low.
“You need to apologize.”
The gossips would not look her in the eye.
“No? Nothing to say?”
She leaned across the counter until her nose was a knife’s edge from the market mare.
“Good. You should try it more often.”
Eyes narrowing, she spoke more softly still. “At least you have the decency to be ashamed of yourselves.”
Her voice rose only as she withdrew, slamming a coin on the counter top. “You messed up.”
Silver Fog was no longer a statue. He leveled his gaze at the pair inside until Rainbow Dash was beside him.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “This place reeks.”
Silver said nothing, but turned his back and followed her away.
“What happened?” Squall called out when he saw them.
“Nothing,” said Rainbow Dash. “Bad service, that’s all.”
This time they walked, and said no more.
The Major was taking a power nap. Silver and Squall had helped to unload the groceries, then excused themselves with talk of going up to punch a few clouds. Scootaloo was looking sleepy, but she rallied like a champ when Bow appeared with a box of Rainbow’s early race reels, recently restored. Rainbow Dash and Windy sat alone in the kitchen.
“Mom?”
“What is it, love?”
“Please tell me what happened. To Rocco.”
“There was a storm. At sea. He disappeared, drowned, they think. We don’t have many details yet--”
“No, I mean--before.”
Her mother sighed into a teacup and set it aside.
“Your uncle, he was a complicated person. There’s so much you didn’t see, you never had a chance to understand.”
“But I want to, don’t you see that? Can’t you help me see?”
“I can try. With time. But my Rainbow, I won’t help you lose the precious thing you have already.”
Unsure as ever in this realm, the young mare watched and waited. Windy at last laid a hoof on her shoulder.
“Your memories are precious. Your time with him, and what it meant to you. You love Uncle Rocco now just like you loved him as a little filly, with all your great big heart. With all your world. And I would never try to change that.”
“Oh, Mom. I miss him so much.”
“Me too, honey. Oh, me too.” Windy’s throat tightened.
“Say,” she brightened. “Speaking of honey. Do you know where they put the new jar?”
“Honey.” Rainbow’s eyes flew wide. She looked at her mother with mounting horror.
“Yes...are you all right?”
“I forgot. I forgot it. Oh Mom I’m so sorry, I just forgot, I just forgot!”
Rainbow Dash burst into tears. Windy clasped her tight, already weeping, and rocked her only baby on her heart until she slept.
She woke hours later under a quilt on the downstairs sofa. Someone had placed her rainbow pillow beneath her head. The house was quiet and dark, except for the moonlight pouring in. Lambent it crept across the floor and into the seams of her covering, which shone like a royal tapestry. Indigo, violet, blue and black. And silver, always silver.
“Susurrus,” something whispered nearby.
A ghost?
No. Just the Major. Sleeping in his chair, talking in his sleep. Talking to grandmother again, she supposed. Then he spoke again.
“Your grandmother made that quilt.”
“Grampa? I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I’m always awake,” he rumbled. “Sleep with one eye open in the jungle, Little Wing.”
“But we’re in Cloudsdale.”
“That’s right. It’s a jungle out there.”
The moonlight in the room flashed brighter. Now she could see her grandfather’s face, at least the silvered outline of his features. Enough to feel like looking at a mirror in the dark.
She could make out more of the quilted pattern, too. A field of jeweled violets adorned its deepening gradient sky.
“Pretty thing, isn’t it? Like her. Or her reflection. She finished it after Sirocco was born. Said she wanted to wrap her babes in the cloth of heaven. Enough to cover them both, and more. To keep them safe.”
There was a creak, in the chair or the Major, while he resettled his bones like a ship at sea.
“It’s all we ever want, to make them safe. Each in our way. I stormed the battlements to fight what I saw would hurt my family, given the chance.But your grand-mare... She’d seen more demons when I found her than I’ve ever had to face. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“I brought her home, out of that place, and we made our life. Made new life. From that day forward, Susurrus would do anything to protect us.”
“But she didn’t fight.”
“Not the same way I did, or Squall, or you. But never mistake a strategy you don’t understand for surrender.”
“...Wow.”
“Wow,” agreed the Major, snorting ever so softly. “Wonderbolts Academy indeed.”
“Hey,” Dash said faintly, though she offered no riposte. She knew the kindness that roughness belied. Knew it very well. But there was an opening, she saw that too.
Guide me. Let me be not a sword but a key.
“Grampa?”
“Yes?”
“Will you tell me the truth, if I ask?”
“If I know it. Yes.”
“Why did Uncle Rocco go away?”
“He got hurt.”
“How?”
“His heart was broken, first of all. He was married quick and widowered young, left with two colts who were heartbroken, too. He ached to be everything to them, had his mind made up he couldn’t. He wasn’t afraid of much, my son. But he was terrified of failing those boys.”
“So he left them with you?”
“Not as simple as that. After Simoom died, he did his best to carry on. I should have seen it clearer then, how he struggled in those days. The Wonderbolts helped, for a while. But Rocco’s fearless flying took a toll. He got hurt, got reckless, and got hurt some more. It all stacked up. Folks said he washed out, but he just broke down.”
“It was too much.”
“Would have told you no such thing, once upon a time. Take a lap and fly it off. Rub some dirt on it.” The Major took a deep breath. “It didn’t work for Rocco. He needed more.”
“Well, did he ever get better? He was gone for so long. Out there living somewhere. Did he write to you?”
“Sometimes. Every year on his mother’s birthday. He’d say he found a place to settle down and start fresh, tell us about whatever schemes he was scheming. Some of those were pretty good. When they worked out he’d send us a piece of his adventures, some tokens and trinkets, all the money he could send for the boys. Your mom must have some of the things he found for you.
“Maybe. But what about all his stories? And his magic Saddle Arabian wife?”
The Major’s rich laughter summoned up Sirocco in truer shades than any ghost so far.
“Two years after he left home, he wrote his longest letter yet. Told us he’d won the hand of a princess, tall and dark and beautiful. Who rode a magical flying carpet!”
Rainbow Dash smiled as the Major shook his head.
“Always our storyteller, Sirocco. Making stories ever since he was a foal, most to please his mother and soothe her sadness. I never quite understood how she could get so homesick for the land she’d left behind. But I suppose I should be grateful I don’t have to.”
“Do you think any of it was true? Those things he wrote?”
“I know he fell in love again. I don’t know who she was. But if I ever knew my son at all, I think he was finally happy. In the end.”
“What about you, Grampa?”
The Major stood suddenly, the dreadnought borne moonward on the surging wave.
“I have fought a good fight. Held the earth and the sea and the sky in my stride, and watched my children’s children grow strong and true. I have loved one woman all my life--the finest woman who ever walked the sands under Fire Mountain. When I look in my granddaughter's eyes, I see her spirit, and I know that she waits for me on a far, far shore.”
He turned his face to the window where the silver moon poured in.
“And now she need not wait alone. They will have stories, and each other’s company.”
Rainbow’s eyes were leaking moonlight, too.
They rose before dawn to make their processional up to the chosen hill, keeping close to one another as they moved along.
An unexpected silhouette stood out against the sky--a deep blue figure in a violet glow.
The shape resolved as they drew near. An earth pony, tall and graceful, was clad in magic fire that spread from her golden locket to each of her white gold hooves, weaving a carpet of light. And there was something else: a falcon, silver-white, poised on the pony’s back.
“We are well met, I hope. We came to pay our respects. I offer apology, kin of my kin, if my presence here brings you harm. I have spoken my peace with the sky, and will depart at your command.”
“Are you...Gale?” Windy stepped out from the group to see her better.
“I am. You’re Windy, aren’t you?”
“That’s me. You’re welcome here, Gale. Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sorry we were unannounced. It’s mostly for Aya’s sake.” The falcon called out in response to his name. “He’s been inconsolable, and I thought the air up here might do him good. Sirocco always said it made him feel better.”
The Major made a bow in front of the tall blue mare, whose eyes and mane were hued the same as the magic at her hooves. “It’s an honor to meet you face to face. Sirocco always said you were a ringer for his mother. He was right. May I introduce you to your husband’s sons?”
“I’ve heard so many stories about you,” she told them. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash finally made their way down the receiving line. When Gale greeted them fondly, Rainbow Dash saw the resemblance to Grandmother, too--but also to the husband this mare had just lost. They both wore the same warm and curious look. Dash liked it right away.
There would be time soon for better introductions. Just now, another figure was making its way up the far side of the hill. Rainbow Dash spotted him first, a small and shaggy salt-and-pepper pony, holding a bundle in his mouth. The stranger crested the hill, saw Gale, and brought the bundle to her.
Here was the captain of the ship Sirocco sailed when he was lost. As the mourners gathered closer in, he spun them the tale of their loved one’s last heroics. When the storm came up, three sailors were swept overboard. Sirocco brought the first two back, then went to save the third. The wave this time was too much, too big. It swallowed them up, he said, and they were gone. But Sirocco traded his life for two others. One of them was the captain’s.
Gale helped him to unfurl the flag that had flown above their ship. As it snapped and strained in the rallying wind, they presented it to Sirocco’s father, who stood spear-straight atop the hill, and wept without shame for his beloved son.
When all was said that could be said, they retired to the family stead. The captain had brought more than a flag: there was Uncle Rocco’s share of gold, and then some, from the expedition he’d saved. Most of it was marked for Squall and Silver.
From Gale there were tiny portraits of each of them, rendered in her paints from Rocco’s recollections. A bigger one of Rocco was given pride of place at the center of the room.
Gale’s portrait of Rainbow Dash was different.
“He told me how small you were the last time he got to see you,” she explained, “But he said it wasn’t how you really looked.”
The image was of Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Wonder Bolts, grown bold and bright into her glory.
At twilight, they gathered outside again to watch the stars come out. They clustered like fireflies above as the ponies kept close to each other below. In a quiet moment, Rainbow Dash turned her gaze again to Gale, her uncle's magic princess. She stood with her eyes closed, letting the evening breeze wash over her.
In this light, her coat glimmered like the evening sky itself--like rarest royal silk--and the strands of silver in her hair gleamed like a crown.
Climbing faster, their bright arrow breached a canopy of cold. On the edge of her vision Dash could see the outside flyers, right on schedule, breaking away in widening arcs. She held her position and spiraled higher, higher, higher, laughing into the sun. At the apogee of her flight, she stopped. For one breath nothing moved at all. Wings tucked, eyes closed, she hung suspended between the forces of nature and those of her own will. To see it from the ground was eerie, even for a seasoned veteran. But the flyer alone in the sky, in the silent space, was a feather’s width from heaven.
The descent began and she drew a slow breath, diving down, falling fast. Cheers from below rose up to reach her over the rushing wind. They joined with the atoms of the air that crackled and hummed around her. It closed in until, halfway to earth, it began to bend. Electric sparks ran over every nerve as she gathered its energy in. The light of her magic burst forth at once, a many-colored fimbriation, prismatic contrails spreading in her wake. With a final shout she broke the wall.
On the ground there would be more shouting and cheers of delight at the whipcrack they’d hear. But Rainbow Dash heard none of it now, only the blood roaring in her ears and her heart near the speed of sound. The noise was behind her, and the ring of skyfire, and all but the boundless way ahead. And all of it was hers.
Low along the runway, one last pass for the crowd. At last she circled and slowed and stuck the landing, grinning.
“Awesome teamwork, team!” Dash exchanged high-hooves with each of them, secretly congratulating herself on her modesty.
“YOU’RE awesome!” Soarin nudged her. “That was incredible!” The ponies chimed in their agreement.
“Aw, thanks.” Her grin broadened. “I am pretty awesome.”
“Nice flying, Crash.” Spitfire’s mouth twitched, barely hinting at a smile. “Looks like you set a new altitude record.”
“All RIGHT! Cider’s on me tonight, guys! Let’s go!”
“Dial up your drag, flygirl. Got something for you. This just arrived.” Spitfire produced a thin envelope from a satchel at her side. Rainbow Dash raised her eyebrows but took the envelope, hunkering down to see what was inside.
The other Wonderbolts looked on curiously. A few seconds passed. Their friend’s face faltered, then went pale before their eyes.
After a few more seconds, Spitfire ventured, “Rainbow Dash? Is everything OK?”
The pale blue pegasus looked up at her captain as if she didn’t recognize her. “I...uh...uh?” Her eyes were wide and her breath came short and shallow.
“Are. You. OK?” Spitfire frowned and stepped in closer. “Is it altitude sickness? Air gets thin up there.”
“Y...yeah. Must be.” Still dazed and shaking slightly, Dash stood up. “Just...need to take five.”
Spitfire nodded. “Misty. Keep an eye out for her. The last thing we need is Wonderbolts falling from the sky. Report immediately if her condition changes.” She looked around at the others. “Good work today, everyone. Dismissed.”
The ponies dispersed and Rainbow Dash moved slowly away, stopping to stare out over a field of sun-bronzed clouds. Misty Fly stood watchful, but she read something in Rainbow’s face and kept a careful distance.
Five minutes later, Rainbow Dash was facing the captain over the wide gulf of her desk, composed but remote. “Captain?”
“Yes, Rainbow Dash.”
“There’s been a death in my family. I have to go home for a few days.”
“Oh, kid, I’m sorry. That’s rough. Go ahead, and take the time you need. I trust you’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“As soon as I can, ma’am. Thank you.”
Spitfire nodded again and raised a stiff salute that Dash returned, uncommonly solemn.
“Right, then. You are dismissed.”
Rainbow Dash turned to go, but halted when Spitfire spoke her name again. “Ma’am?”
“Take care, kid.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you had an uncle, Rainbow Dash.”
Rarity sat by Rainbow’s side, both of them sinking in the center of the cloudlike bed. The soft glow of Rarity’s magic surrounded them, and over and over a brush was gently smoothing the rainbow mane.
“Uncle Sirocco. He’s--he was my mom’s kid brother. I called him Rocco. He moved away when I was pretty young, but before that I used to see him all the time.”
“Sirocco?” Twilight looked up from the lists she was organizing for her friend’s trip, meticulously detailed despite the nearness and brevity of the stay. “Sirocco the Wonderbolt?”
“Yeah. For a little while, anyway. I guess he had more interesting stuff to do. But while it lasted he was the awesomest, the most--”
“--Fearless flyer to dare the skies!” Twilight joined in. Pinkie cheered. Scootaloo, curled up at the foot of the bed, gave an echo.
“You saw him?”
“Well, not exactly,” said Twilight. “But Cadance had his poster! She thought he was ‘dreamy.’ And he’s in at least one of my books, you know.”
Rainbow Dash smiled for the first time since her hooves had touched the ground.
“He always took me flying. I think I learned to love the sky from him. And he--he always believed in me.”
Fluttershy scooted closer on the bed, resting her chin on Rainbow’s shoulder. “He sounds very nice.”
The blue pegasus leaned back and sighed, suddenly tired. “I just wish... I wish we had more time.”
Applejack set a large basket of food at the edge of the bed, near Scootaloo. “Course you do, sugarcube.” She plucked a small apple up by its stem and brought it to the bedside table, where Pinkie Pie was pouring a glass of milk.
“Time’s the one thing we can’t never get enough of.” Her green eyes met Rainbow’s and held them steady. “Sometimes people leave before we’re ready for ‘em to go. Sometimes a long time before. And it ain’t fair.” She shook her head.
“No,” said Rainbow quietly. “It hurts.”
“Ah know it does, sugar. Ah know.”
Applejack climbed up onto the bed and hugged her friend close. Slowly, the rest of Rainbow Dash’s circle drew in, and they clasped each other tight.
Scootaloo broke the silence at last, piping up from the center of their protective ring. “Can I come with you?”
“Of course you can. I wouldn’t go without you, Scoots. But I think we’d better go tonight. Mom and dad need us.”
“Won’t you try to eat a little before you go?” Rarity asked.
Rainbow Dash gave the apple on the table a rueful look. “Not just yet. My stomach is still experiencing some turbulence. Gosh, I haven’t even told you guys about the maneuvers today!”
“We’ll all look forward to hearing it,” said Twilight, “But for now, I think you should save your strength. Let us help you get ready.”
“And you will eat later. When you can.” Applejack, not asking.
“Yes, mother.”
“Yes, mother.” Scootaloo giggled.
“Hey, half-pint,” said Rainbow, ruffling her mane. “What about your appetite?”
“I’m always hungry!”
Rainbow Dash lifted the basket and deposited it in front of the filly. It was nearly her size.
“Dig in.”
“Mom? Dad? It’s me. Us. Are you here?”
Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo stepped into a dim and strangely quiet room. As they unloaded their parcels--overnight bags, flowers from Rarity, and the basket of food, now lighter by half--some muffled sounds approached from the back of the house. Then two silhouettes filled the doorway ahead, two shadows flowed out to meet them.
One shadow was tall and broad, edged with a muted palette in the fading daylight. The other, for the moment, seemed so slight that it might disappear into the floor. Rainbow Dash bridged the distance to her parents in two long strides, and buried herself in the crush of their embrace.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m home.”
“Baby,” her mother murmured. “My baby.”
The scratch and bristle of her father’s face filled Rainbow with a long-lost warmth. Her mother’s scent was the same as ever and somehow still surprising, that starchy mix of roots and flour with the spice of her favorite cookies. Yes, she was home.
When they lifted their heads, she was startled by her parents’ eyes. Neither had slept, she could tell, and Mom’s usually vibrant eyes were cloudy and rimmed with red. Still, when Windy met her daughter’s gaze, she smiled.
“Hello, Scoots.” It was the first time Bow had spoken, and his voice came out an odd wet rumble. He cleared his throat, freeing an arm to reach for Scootaloo, who gladly joined the family hug.
“Hello, Scootaloo. I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners. Can I get you two something to eat? You must be so hungry.”
“No, Mom, that’s okay.” Rainbow Dash looked at Scootaloo. “There’s some food in the basket here, and Rarity sent these flowers.” She gestured to the white lilies blooming in a crystal vase.
“Oh, how lovely.” Windy smiled again. “That Rarity is so thoughtful.”
“I guess we should all try to eat something,” Rainbow continued. “Why don’t I fix something for you?”
“You don’t have to do that, honey.”
“I want to. How hard can it be to make a whole mess of pasta and potato sandwiches?”
“We get to make a mess?” Scootaloo squealed.
“Figure of speech, kiddo.”
“Well, all right,” said Windy. “It would be nice to sit down for a while. Just be careful.”
“Why?”
She answered with an enigmatic smile.
“The pastato sandwich is deceptively simple,” Bow explained.
“Minutes to learn,” Windy added. “Years to master.”
“Riiiight. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. You’ll be the best pasta potato sandwich maker ever! Just call me if you get in too deep.”
After the meal, they retired to the living room and sat together in the comfortable silence that only comes from full bellies and empty plates. They’d scarcely spoken throughout dinner except to compliment the chefs--the best ever, of course--or to ask each other to pass the salt. Rainbow Dash thought her first attempt at the highly sophisticated pastato sandwich didn’t taste much like the original. Still, everyone offered rave reviews.
“All that and she can cook!” Bow thumped his daughter on the back, breaking the after-dinner lull. “My daughter the Wonderbolt, chef extraordinaire!”
“You may have got the flying from your uncle,” Windy laughed, “But not the cooking, that’s for sure!” Then everyone was laughing.
“Did he try to cook for you, Mom?”
“Oh, he tried. He tried and tried.” She paused, and the smile on her face remained, but it drifted into sadness. “Bless his heart.”
“A man of the world was our Sirocco,” said Bow. “Always finding exotic new recipes to try on us. Mostly they wound up half-burnt. But only half, mind you! Some of it was edible. And he was so creative. So creative.”
“He was getting better, I think.”
“He was.”
“What was your favorite dish?” asked Rainbow Dash.
“Ermm.” Bow exchanged glances with his wife. “Well. Hmmm. He made so many.”
“So many.”
“What about the, uh…”
“Rice?”
“Rice! He was good at rice.”
“Almost never burnt the water.”
“Rice?” Rainbow Dash looked skeptical.
“You remember, dear.” Windy seemed to be in the process of remembering, herself. “The yellow rice!”
An image appeared in Rainbow’s mind, and suddenly her palate was flooded with remembered tastes.
“The yellow rice. He...He made that every year. For me.” Rainbow Dash turned to Scootaloo. “At Hearth’s Warming.”
“Yellow rice?” it was Scootaloo’s turn to be dubious.
“I wish you could try it, Scoots. It comes from across the sea. Tastes like nothing you’ve ever tried. And he added things. Other things I never would have tasted if it weren’t for him. There was fruit from a vine he found in the desert and dried on the stones of a ruined temple. Pine tree nuts from a mountain ridge you can only reach when the moon is full. Yak butter melted on golden carrots and cinnamon from the garden of a queen!”
“Wow, did he tell you all that?” Bow was stroking the stubble of his beard. “He told so many stories, I guess I’ve forgotten half of them.”
“What do you mean, ‘stories,’ Dad?”
“Oh, you know. He was a storyteller. He liked to entertain.”
“Sure, he had lots of cool stories about his adventures! Why wouldn’t he?”
“No reason, dear,” said Windy. “I know you’re very proud of him.”
“Aren’t you?”
For a moment Windy looked like she might cry. Rainbow Dash stammered and tried to speak, but her mother was first to find her voice, level and low.
“I love my brother.” She took a deep breath and let go. “I’ve always loved my brother. I always will.”
“I know, Mom.” Rainbow looked downcast. “Me too.”
Bow spoke up abruptly. “We should get some sleep. The Major will be here tomorrow with Silver and Squall, and knowing him, they’ll be here early.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Windy’s voice now was almost a bluster of pleasantry. “Rainbow hasn’t seen her cousins in such a long time, of course neither have we! Ha-ha! And Scootaloo, you’ve never met them at all! And The Major, of course, oh I think you’ll warm to him very quickly. He’s my father, you know, gave his whole life to the Corps, and the Corps just doesn’t think like you and I, of course they don’t, but the years have passed and he’s just a dear old man, and…”
She trailed off and blinked twice. “Excuse me, dears. My nerves today! I always talk too much when I get nervous.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
Bow stood at Windy’s side, draping his neck across hers and kissing the top of her head. She looked once again like a shadow that might melt away with one false flicker.
“Come along, my love. I’ll tuck you in.”
“Yes. All right. Good night, children. I love you both.”
“Good night, Mama.”
“Good night. Mama.” A smaller voice, shyly tasting the word, answered with two swift, tear-salted kisses for her own.
Scootaloo trailed behind Rainbow Dash as they climbed the stairs to her old room. She was looking at the portraits that covered the walls. Most were pictures of Dash, though scattered among them were various relatives who looked a little or a lot like her.
“Where are Uncle Rocco’s pictures?”
“I’m not really sure. I never saw a lot of them. Mom said it’s because he didn’t like having his picture made, but--” Rainbow Dash spoke more quietly. “That never sounded like Uncle Rocco to me.”
She opened the door to her childhood sanctuary and ushered her guest inside--only Scootaloo didn’t really seem like a guest anymore, did she? Her filly friend was family now.
The room was just as Rainbow Dash remembered it, as it always had been, and she was glad. Fresh pillows and blankets were piled on the bed. There was her favorite old down pillow, cerulean emblazoned with a rainbow as brilliant as her youthful eyes recalled. “Here ya go, Scoots. Try this on for size!” She served it to her underhanded, miming the slowest and silliest of pillow fights.
The filly caught it easily but rolled off balance, fwumphing back with a giggle. “Really? Wow!” She examined the pillow with a kind of wonder, tracing her hoof along each arc of the rainbow.
“It’ll give you good dreams.” Rainbow Dash winked.
“Cool! Maybe I’ll dream of Uncle Rocco! Maybe I’ll see what he looks like!”
Rainbow Dash was fluffing out a blanket, casting it out to settle over Scootaloo like a mist rolling in from the coast. She arranged it with the tenderest care and brushed a stray wisp of pink from the child’s forehead. Fast asleep.
“Maybe I will, too.”
Sleep came less easy to Rainbow Dash. For a long while she lay in the dark, staring up at storms of clouds and star-stuff that silently spun on her ceiling. Searching for faces. Watching the luminous passage of all those faint colors: saffron, indigo, violet. Saffron. Indigo. Violet. Violet.
Violets, his eyes are violets. Like hers. Like her mother’s and her grandmother’s before her.
The stars are violets. The moon is a silver cup in a maiden’s hand, spilling the violet stars across the sky. He told her so.
The sky is indigo. She is peering out from the river that runs from the crown of his head to spill over his shoulders and swirl into the sky. Blue. Indigo. Violet. Silver streams among the stars and eddies in deep shadow.
“Catch me one, Unka. Catch me a star.”
The wind is on their faces. She has never flown so high. Running on air. Scattering starlight.
“I’ll help you catch one, Little Wing. Someday you’ll catch them all. Are you ready?”
Is she ready?
“Hold on tight.”
The sky is black now and the stars are huge. The moon-maid’s arm is beckoning. They’re so close. Will they be close enough to reach?
She holds the river like life itself as he bows his neck and she tumbles forward. His hooves are pounding the air in time with his wings, she swears she can hear it. And something else: the rush of blood, the heartbeat. Two of them together.
She looks down at the river, then up at eternity, and this moonlight child is something most remarkable.
She is not afraid.
“Go on,” she whispers. “Send me up. I can do it.”
“I know you can.”
She lets go and he tosses his great proud head to the night, defying it to stop them.
And she is flying. All on her own, barely grown into her wings, she is flying ten thousand feet above the ground. She has found the greatest thing she’s ever known.
Or ever will.
Seconds fill a year’s expanse in her fledgling outsize heart. The sky holds her frozen in time. Calling to the stars, she feels their light inscribe her lungs with a billion violets. All the lines spell love. Her eyes close and her wings wrap round her and she lets herself fall.
She lands in the river, of course, and scatters all her violets in the stream.
The peal of a bugle split the morning air. A bolt of sunlight conspired to pierce the high window of Rainbow’s room, and the two pegasi stirred grumbling from their separate dreams.
“RISE AND SHINE! IT IS OH-SIX-HUNDRED ON THE DOT. MY DOT, SWEETHEARTS, NOT YOUR DOT. THIS IS YOUR CALL TO MUSTER. FAAAALL IN!”
It was a voice that sounded amplified, but was in truth all natural. “S...Spitfire?” Rainbow’s voice was gravelly. “Why would she…”
“Dad.” Another voice from below--Bow’s, it sounded like. It carried up the stairs as Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash staggered toward it. “You still carry around that ridiculous thing?”
“THE MIND THRIVES ON ORDER, YOUNG MAN. ORDER AND DISCIPLINE.”
“Order and discipline, you got it.” Windy’s voice. “You’ve always been the best orderer-discipliner I know, Dad. Do you want some coffee?”
“Just fine, just fine.” The Major seemed satisfied, for the moment, his voice at least approaching an “inside” level. Not, thought Rainbow, a morning one. “Where are those boys of mine? Hop to it, lads!”
“Hiya, Gramps. Good to see ya.”
The Major turned, unsmiling, to his only granddaughter. “Gramps, eh?” She caught the tiny twinkle in his sharp blue eyes. “Guess they still teach newbie sass at that Academy of yours.”
“No, Sir. I came by that naturally.”
The old stallion barked with laughter, clasping her in a bear of a hug. “Good to see you too, Little Wing.”
Rainbow Dash felt her ears burning, grateful for the hug that hid her quivering jaw.
“And who’s this famous flying ace?” The Major knelt, regarding Scootaloo.
“I’m Scootaloo! Sir!”
“She’s a Cutie Mark Crusader, Grampa. It’s a very important job.”
“Then it’s a good name for a good filly. Honored to meet you, Scootaloo.”
“Hey, me too!”
“Me too! Me too!”
Two tall and wiry stallions, blue-maned and grey, were laden with luggage and trying to fit through the front door at the same time.
“That’s enough, boys! Settle down and make your manners.”
“Right.”
“Right!”
They both bowed gallantly to Scootaloo. Up close it was easier to tell them apart. One, like the Major, bore a dusting of white dapples. The other was more slightly built, and his forelock was a silver streak.
“I’m Snow Squall,” said the first.
“I’m Silver Fog,” said the other. “But you can call him Squall.”
“And you can call him Silver.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Scootaloo replied.
“Squall! Silver!” Rainbow Dash hurtled into them as soon as it seemed proper.
“Hey there, half-pint!” Squall tousled her mane.
“Hi, Rainbow.” Silver smiled.
“Wow, you guys got big.”
“It happens.” Squall tossed his head nonchalantly and flexed a bicep.
“You’ve grown up too,” said Silver.
“Y’know, been workin’ out.”
“Oh yeah?” Squall leaned in. “Wanna spar? Huh? Huh?”
“Take it outside, kids. AFTER I’ve had my coffee.” The Major settled down at the kitchen table.
“And breakfast, I’ll make us all some breakfast.” Windy hugged the twins in turn, then bustled off to work.
By mid-afternoon, the family was lazing outside between bouts of wrestling and cloudwork and communal eating. Rainbow Dash swayed in a hammock in the soft breeze, while the twins leaned back against the stoop looking slightly battered, but pleased.
“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash. “I had a dream last night. I think. About Uncle Rocco.”
“Did you, dear?” said Windy. “What was it about?”
“Oh it was the best! It was the night he took me flying for the first time--really flying! All by myself!”
“All by yourself,” her mother echoed.
“You remember, don’t you? I couldn’t have been more than--”
“A baby.”
“Aww, c’mon, I wasn’t a baby.”
“You were MY baby. Rainbow, he didn’t ask if you could go. I was frightened half to death that night. Your father, too.”
“Frightened.” Bow grunted. “Sirocco’s lucky I didn’t frighten him.”
“But you did. There’s a reason he never tried that stunt again.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash frowned as if she’d made a calculation she couldn’t explain. “Is...that why?”
“You could have been badly hurt,” said her father. “Even--” he stopped short.
“But I WASN’T! I had the best time of my life up there! Ever! Did you take that away from me because you thought I wasn’t GOOD ENOUGH? Did you send HIM away?”
“No!” her parents shouted.
“Then…” she looked helplessly from one face to the next. “Why did he go?”
“We don’t know, dear.” Windy looked to her husband, desperate to send that expression forever from their daughter’s face. “A...A lot of reasons. But none of them were you.”
“No,” said Bow. “Never you. You know how much he cared for you.”
“I thought I did.” Some of the misery was fleeing now, replaced by simple sad confusion.
“Take it from us, kiddo.” Squall and Silver were flanking her, two pillars of steadfast steel. “Dad was never easy to understand.”
“For anyone,” said Silver. "Especially once Mother was gone. I’ve asked myself questions you probably haven’t even thought of yet. Some I just gave up on.” He studied his hooves, then met her eyes, so like her own and like his father’s. “But I know he loved us, Rainbow. All of us. In his way.”
“In his way.”
“It’s all anybody can do, little love,” said Bow. “In his way...he was better than most.”
The air around them whistled into the silence that followed. Scootaloo hummed a few notes to herself.
“Susurrus,” sighed the Major.
Scootaloo hummed on. “Hmmm?”
‘Susurrus,” said Rainbow Dash, then: “Grandmother.”
The breeze came alive. Somewhere a windchime sounded.
“Lady, is that you?” The Major was up on the lawn now, standing upright at attention. He had removed his service cap, and the rising wind played through his coarse and close-cropped mane.
“Susurrus! Speak to me. Please.”
Bow put his arm around Windy as they watched from the porch above. The wind was rippling now, pulling at banners and skimming at clouds, tossing and tangling manes and tails and singing oh, so sweetly.
It brushed the water streaming from the Major’s staring eyes. The chimes grew louder and the song rose steadily to a howl. And still it was lovely.
Grandfather sang too. A storm was brewing, grey on grey, and it tore the song from his lips but he did not stop. The howl became a wordless prayer released into the atmosphere. The sibilance took on another shape. This time it struggled through Grandfather’s teeth, wrenched from his mouth in a pained and wretched cry:
“SIROCCO!”
The wind screamed on as long as he, and not an instant longer. When it passed, the old war-pegasus crouched, bowed into the storm that had broken around him.
“Sirocco,” he sighed again. “My son.”
“We’re here, Daddy.” Windy descended and draped her hooves around him.
Silver Fog was watching the horizon, where the sky was once more clear and bright.
“I think we’re not the only ones.”
“We’re overdue for a meal. Don’t you think?”
“My paunch is growing quite respectable,” said Bow, “But you’re the captain, captain.”
“I think we are. Rainbow--Scootaloo--Silver--Squall.” She favored them each with her sweetest smile. “Would you kids like to go to the market? Just take this list, if you would, and gather a few things for supper. You’re such good gatherers!”
“Sure, Mom.”
Silver pranced to the front of the line. “Okay pegasi, let’s get in formation!”
Rainbow Dash stretched and fanned her wings. “Hooves in saddles, Scootaladdles.”
“Whaha?”
“Come aboard! We’re going flying!”
Squall brought up the rear, and their little party set upon its way. The market wasn’t far, but the resourceful young ponies found time enough for aerial horseplay and fun. By the time they reached their destination, all of them were laughing, momentarily carefree. Squall’s voice rang out above the din.
“I don’t know, but I been told!”
“I don’t know, but I been told!”
“Major Gramps is really old!”
“Major Gramps is really old!”
“Tell ya how he got that way!”
“Tell ya how he got that way!”
“Kickin’ tails and raisin’ hay!”
“Kickin’ tails and raisin’ hay!”
“SOUND OFF!”
“ONE-TWO!”
“SOUND OFF!”
“THREE-FOUR!”
“Rainbow is his grandest girl!”
“Rainbow is his grandest girl!”
“Got her mama in a whirl!”
[/i]“Got her mama in a whirl!”[/i]
“Won’t back off and won’t slow down!”
“Won’t back off and won’t slow down!”
“Crashing soon into your town!”
[/i]“Cra-ha-ha! Hashing soon into your TOWWWWN!”[/i]
The squadron fell apart, crying with laughter, rolling onto tufted clouds that gave like summer grass beneath them. Scootaloo popped up first. “Squadron!” she chirped. “Assemble!”
The older ponies promptly ceased their laughter, snapping to with military precision.
“Our mission is clear. Obtain the objective. Failure is not an option!”
“No ma’am!”
“Hup! Hup! Hup!”
They jogged into the market and fanned out, each with a piece of Windy’s grocery list.
“Reunited in no time flat,” Dash grinned when they met up front. “What a team.”
“It’s a family tradition.” Squall winked.
“Why hello there!” The mare at the counter sized them up with a tremendous smile. “Did you find what you needed today?”
“Sure did!” said Rainbow Dash.
“You’re Bow and Windy’s girl, aren’t you? Goodness, how you’ve grown!” She craned her neck to eye the twins in the back. “And you! Is that you?”
“We’re us,” Silver confirmed.
“By the sun, you are. Sirocco’s boys. Where is your father now?”
Two pairs of violet eyes, so like his own, shared this space of pained silence.
Rainbow mantled her wings around her cousins. It would surprise a stranger, seeing how far she could go to shelter them.
“Sirocco is no longer with us.”
“Ah.”
The market mare hesitated, eyes darting briefly to Scootaloo and back to Rainbow Dash.
“My condolences, then.”
They all shifted uncomfortably until the mare jumped at the job in front of her. Once remembered, she performed it with alacrity.
“Thank you for shopping have a nice day.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” said Rainbow. “You too.”
Not far along the road back home, she halted.
“What is it, Dash?” asked Squall. No one had spoken since they left the market.
“She gave me one too many.”
“Erm?”
“Coins. I have to take it back.”
“Righto, let’s go.”
“We don’t all need to go. I can deal with her. This. Go on ahead, guys.”
“Hey, nopony gets left behind.”
“I’ll go with her,” said Silver. “Buddy system.”
“A-OK, brother. Scootaloo?”
“Sir?”
Squall chuckled in spite of himself. “It’s a good time to practice our holding patterns.”
“Wilco, good buddy.”
Now they all laughed. Some of the wind had gone out of the sound, but laughing together, they knew, was better than what waited to get them alone.
“Just let me double check the receipt,” said Rainbow Dash. She stood with Silver just outside the shop, cast half in shadow. The voice of the mare at the counter carried from inside.
“I feel awful for those colts of his. You know he ran off to some Saddle Arabian nag before their mother was in the ground.”
Silver Fog froze. His face was a blank mask.
“I heard he was bewitched by an evil sorceress!”
“Same thing!” the voices cackled.
“To be brutally honest,” the first went on, “I think he had a mare in every port. And for years before that poor Simoom gave up the ghost."
Silver hadn’t moved or made a sound. Rainbow Dash was trembling. By the time she reached the counter the shaking had edged into her voice, but she kept it very low.
“You need to apologize.”
The gossips would not look her in the eye.
“No? Nothing to say?”
She leaned across the counter until her nose was a knife’s edge from the market mare.
“Good. You should try it more often.”
Eyes narrowing, she spoke more softly still. “At least you have the decency to be ashamed of yourselves.”
Her voice rose only as she withdrew, slamming a coin on the counter top. “You messed up.”
Silver Fog was no longer a statue. He leveled his gaze at the pair inside until Rainbow Dash was beside him.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “This place reeks.”
Silver said nothing, but turned his back and followed her away.
“What happened?” Squall called out when he saw them.
“Nothing,” said Rainbow Dash. “Bad service, that’s all.”
This time they walked, and said no more.
The Major was taking a power nap. Silver and Squall had helped to unload the groceries, then excused themselves with talk of going up to punch a few clouds. Scootaloo was looking sleepy, but she rallied like a champ when Bow appeared with a box of Rainbow’s early race reels, recently restored. Rainbow Dash and Windy sat alone in the kitchen.
“Mom?”
“What is it, love?”
“Please tell me what happened. To Rocco.”
“There was a storm. At sea. He disappeared, drowned, they think. We don’t have many details yet--”
“No, I mean--before.”
Her mother sighed into a teacup and set it aside.
“Your uncle, he was a complicated person. There’s so much you didn’t see, you never had a chance to understand.”
“But I want to, don’t you see that? Can’t you help me see?”
“I can try. With time. But my Rainbow, I won’t help you lose the precious thing you have already.”
Unsure as ever in this realm, the young mare watched and waited. Windy at last laid a hoof on her shoulder.
“Your memories are precious. Your time with him, and what it meant to you. You love Uncle Rocco now just like you loved him as a little filly, with all your great big heart. With all your world. And I would never try to change that.”
“Oh, Mom. I miss him so much.”
“Me too, honey. Oh, me too.” Windy’s throat tightened.
“Say,” she brightened. “Speaking of honey. Do you know where they put the new jar?”
“Honey.” Rainbow’s eyes flew wide. She looked at her mother with mounting horror.
“Yes...are you all right?”
“I forgot. I forgot it. Oh Mom I’m so sorry, I just forgot, I just forgot!”
Rainbow Dash burst into tears. Windy clasped her tight, already weeping, and rocked her only baby on her heart until she slept.
She woke hours later under a quilt on the downstairs sofa. Someone had placed her rainbow pillow beneath her head. The house was quiet and dark, except for the moonlight pouring in. Lambent it crept across the floor and into the seams of her covering, which shone like a royal tapestry. Indigo, violet, blue and black. And silver, always silver.
“Susurrus,” something whispered nearby.
A ghost?
No. Just the Major. Sleeping in his chair, talking in his sleep. Talking to grandmother again, she supposed. Then he spoke again.
“Your grandmother made that quilt.”
“Grampa? I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I’m always awake,” he rumbled. “Sleep with one eye open in the jungle, Little Wing.”
“But we’re in Cloudsdale.”
“That’s right. It’s a jungle out there.”
The moonlight in the room flashed brighter. Now she could see her grandfather’s face, at least the silvered outline of his features. Enough to feel like looking at a mirror in the dark.
She could make out more of the quilted pattern, too. A field of jeweled violets adorned its deepening gradient sky.
“Pretty thing, isn’t it? Like her. Or her reflection. She finished it after Sirocco was born. Said she wanted to wrap her babes in the cloth of heaven. Enough to cover them both, and more. To keep them safe.”
There was a creak, in the chair or the Major, while he resettled his bones like a ship at sea.
“It’s all we ever want, to make them safe. Each in our way. I stormed the battlements to fight what I saw would hurt my family, given the chance.But your grand-mare... She’d seen more demons when I found her than I’ve ever had to face. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“I brought her home, out of that place, and we made our life. Made new life. From that day forward, Susurrus would do anything to protect us.”
“But she didn’t fight.”
“Not the same way I did, or Squall, or you. But never mistake a strategy you don’t understand for surrender.”
“...Wow.”
“Wow,” agreed the Major, snorting ever so softly. “Wonderbolts Academy indeed.”
“Hey,” Dash said faintly, though she offered no riposte. She knew the kindness that roughness belied. Knew it very well. But there was an opening, she saw that too.
Guide me. Let me be not a sword but a key.
“Grampa?”
“Yes?”
“Will you tell me the truth, if I ask?”
“If I know it. Yes.”
“Why did Uncle Rocco go away?”
“He got hurt.”
“How?”
“His heart was broken, first of all. He was married quick and widowered young, left with two colts who were heartbroken, too. He ached to be everything to them, had his mind made up he couldn’t. He wasn’t afraid of much, my son. But he was terrified of failing those boys.”
“So he left them with you?”
“Not as simple as that. After Simoom died, he did his best to carry on. I should have seen it clearer then, how he struggled in those days. The Wonderbolts helped, for a while. But Rocco’s fearless flying took a toll. He got hurt, got reckless, and got hurt some more. It all stacked up. Folks said he washed out, but he just broke down.”
“It was too much.”
“Would have told you no such thing, once upon a time. Take a lap and fly it off. Rub some dirt on it.” The Major took a deep breath. “It didn’t work for Rocco. He needed more.”
“Well, did he ever get better? He was gone for so long. Out there living somewhere. Did he write to you?”
“Sometimes. Every year on his mother’s birthday. He’d say he found a place to settle down and start fresh, tell us about whatever schemes he was scheming. Some of those were pretty good. When they worked out he’d send us a piece of his adventures, some tokens and trinkets, all the money he could send for the boys. Your mom must have some of the things he found for you.
“Maybe. But what about all his stories? And his magic Saddle Arabian wife?”
The Major’s rich laughter summoned up Sirocco in truer shades than any ghost so far.
“Two years after he left home, he wrote his longest letter yet. Told us he’d won the hand of a princess, tall and dark and beautiful. Who rode a magical flying carpet!”
Rainbow Dash smiled as the Major shook his head.
“Always our storyteller, Sirocco. Making stories ever since he was a foal, most to please his mother and soothe her sadness. I never quite understood how she could get so homesick for the land she’d left behind. But I suppose I should be grateful I don’t have to.”
“Do you think any of it was true? Those things he wrote?”
“I know he fell in love again. I don’t know who she was. But if I ever knew my son at all, I think he was finally happy. In the end.”
“What about you, Grampa?”
The Major stood suddenly, the dreadnought borne moonward on the surging wave.
“I have fought a good fight. Held the earth and the sea and the sky in my stride, and watched my children’s children grow strong and true. I have loved one woman all my life--the finest woman who ever walked the sands under Fire Mountain. When I look in my granddaughter's eyes, I see her spirit, and I know that she waits for me on a far, far shore.”
He turned his face to the window where the silver moon poured in.
“And now she need not wait alone. They will have stories, and each other’s company.”
Rainbow’s eyes were leaking moonlight, too.
They rose before dawn to make their processional up to the chosen hill, keeping close to one another as they moved along.
An unexpected silhouette stood out against the sky--a deep blue figure in a violet glow.
The shape resolved as they drew near. An earth pony, tall and graceful, was clad in magic fire that spread from her golden locket to each of her white gold hooves, weaving a carpet of light. And there was something else: a falcon, silver-white, poised on the pony’s back.
“We are well met, I hope. We came to pay our respects. I offer apology, kin of my kin, if my presence here brings you harm. I have spoken my peace with the sky, and will depart at your command.”
“Are you...Gale?” Windy stepped out from the group to see her better.
“I am. You’re Windy, aren’t you?”
“That’s me. You’re welcome here, Gale. Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sorry we were unannounced. It’s mostly for Aya’s sake.” The falcon called out in response to his name. “He’s been inconsolable, and I thought the air up here might do him good. Sirocco always said it made him feel better.”
The Major made a bow in front of the tall blue mare, whose eyes and mane were hued the same as the magic at her hooves. “It’s an honor to meet you face to face. Sirocco always said you were a ringer for his mother. He was right. May I introduce you to your husband’s sons?”
“I’ve heard so many stories about you,” she told them. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash finally made their way down the receiving line. When Gale greeted them fondly, Rainbow Dash saw the resemblance to Grandmother, too--but also to the husband this mare had just lost. They both wore the same warm and curious look. Dash liked it right away.
There would be time soon for better introductions. Just now, another figure was making its way up the far side of the hill. Rainbow Dash spotted him first, a small and shaggy salt-and-pepper pony, holding a bundle in his mouth. The stranger crested the hill, saw Gale, and brought the bundle to her.
Here was the captain of the ship Sirocco sailed when he was lost. As the mourners gathered closer in, he spun them the tale of their loved one’s last heroics. When the storm came up, three sailors were swept overboard. Sirocco brought the first two back, then went to save the third. The wave this time was too much, too big. It swallowed them up, he said, and they were gone. But Sirocco traded his life for two others. One of them was the captain’s.
Gale helped him to unfurl the flag that had flown above their ship. As it snapped and strained in the rallying wind, they presented it to Sirocco’s father, who stood spear-straight atop the hill, and wept without shame for his beloved son.
When all was said that could be said, they retired to the family stead. The captain had brought more than a flag: there was Uncle Rocco’s share of gold, and then some, from the expedition he’d saved. Most of it was marked for Squall and Silver.
From Gale there were tiny portraits of each of them, rendered in her paints from Rocco’s recollections. A bigger one of Rocco was given pride of place at the center of the room.
Gale’s portrait of Rainbow Dash was different.
“He told me how small you were the last time he got to see you,” she explained, “But he said it wasn’t how you really looked.”
The image was of Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Wonder Bolts, grown bold and bright into her glory.
At twilight, they gathered outside again to watch the stars come out. They clustered like fireflies above as the ponies kept close to each other below. In a quiet moment, Rainbow Dash turned her gaze again to Gale, her uncle's magic princess. She stood with her eyes closed, letting the evening breeze wash over her.
In this light, her coat glimmered like the evening sky itself--like rarest royal silk--and the strands of silver in her hair gleamed like a crown.
This was really heartwarming, and I mean it. There are some good emotions in this story, though perhaps they needed a bit more room to breathe.
A lot of the scenes felt like short skits that didn't tie into the whole story in any particular order. Also, I was expecting Scootaloo to play a larger role than just Rainbow Dash's sattelite, maybe serve as some sort of thematic parallel between Dash and her uncle and Scootaloo and Dash. Also, there's the matter of the story stopping rather than properly ending. It's not as though it needed much to get a better ending, just have Dash have one final thought about her uncle and you're set.
Still, this was an enjoyable story. Well done.
A lot of the scenes felt like short skits that didn't tie into the whole story in any particular order. Also, I was expecting Scootaloo to play a larger role than just Rainbow Dash's sattelite, maybe serve as some sort of thematic parallel between Dash and her uncle and Scootaloo and Dash. Also, there's the matter of the story stopping rather than properly ending. It's not as though it needed much to get a better ending, just have Dash have one final thought about her uncle and you're set.
Still, this was an enjoyable story. Well done.
I'll both agree and disagree with >>Zaid Val'Roa here.
I had the same feelings, but they weren't in the same amount.
You indeed have some great and heartwarming moments between your characters, and your structure and your premise is interesting enough to keep me at least engaged until the end.
However, you may have more than 7,000 words, but your whole story feels cramped. We have many characters (citing them by memory: Rainbow Dash, her parents, Scootaloo, Sirrocco, Sirrocco's twins, Sirroco's dad, several members of the Wonderbolt, Gale — who I guess was one of Sirrocco's wife, and probably others I forgot). That's a bit too much. While I must admit each one felt they had their moments, I'd have liked to have less characters and to spend more time with them.
Also, there are a lot of different scenes. And even though none felt pointless or anything like that, I have to echo >>Zaid Val'Roa saying that your whole story needs more room to breathe. We switch from one scene to another and sometimes, the connection doesn't feel tied enough.
As for the tone, I have some mixed feelings about it, especially around the beginning. Something tragic happenned, but we still see characters teasing each others, like if nothing had happened. I understand that life don't always stop when these sort of things occur, but the tone keeps switching back and forth between a sad tone and a slice of life tone. Maybe think about keeping one tone per scene.
Anyway, I feel like, once again, I spent more words talking about what I didn't like and not enough on what I liked. So all in all, you have a compelling story to tell. My main concerns all relate to the fact that this story needs morte time and words. Your premise is engaging, the conclusion, while a bit rushed, feels satisfying, and I wouldn't cut anything from it. It's quite the opposite.
So thank you for writing, and good luck on expanding it for FimFiction (if that's your plan).
I had the same feelings, but they weren't in the same amount.
You indeed have some great and heartwarming moments between your characters, and your structure and your premise is interesting enough to keep me at least engaged until the end.
However, you may have more than 7,000 words, but your whole story feels cramped. We have many characters (citing them by memory: Rainbow Dash, her parents, Scootaloo, Sirrocco, Sirrocco's twins, Sirroco's dad, several members of the Wonderbolt, Gale — who I guess was one of Sirrocco's wife, and probably others I forgot). That's a bit too much. While I must admit each one felt they had their moments, I'd have liked to have less characters and to spend more time with them.
Also, there are a lot of different scenes. And even though none felt pointless or anything like that, I have to echo >>Zaid Val'Roa saying that your whole story needs more room to breathe. We switch from one scene to another and sometimes, the connection doesn't feel tied enough.
As for the tone, I have some mixed feelings about it, especially around the beginning. Something tragic happenned, but we still see characters teasing each others, like if nothing had happened. I understand that life don't always stop when these sort of things occur, but the tone keeps switching back and forth between a sad tone and a slice of life tone. Maybe think about keeping one tone per scene.
Anyway, I feel like, once again, I spent more words talking about what I didn't like and not enough on what I liked. So all in all, you have a compelling story to tell. My main concerns all relate to the fact that this story needs morte time and words. Your premise is engaging, the conclusion, while a bit rushed, feels satisfying, and I wouldn't cut anything from it. It's quite the opposite.
So thank you for writing, and good luck on expanding it for FimFiction (if that's your plan).
I was back and forth on how I should feel about Sirocco. Rainbow's affection for him sets up high expectations, but I could practically feel the tension of the Family Secret hanging in the air. I got the impression that he would, in actuality, be some short of shitheel, but I didn't know where he'd fall on the line of "gambled too much" to "child molester."
I think "child abandonment" is a happy medium. But he's not without his reasons, and he's still a little sympathetic (and I say this as someone with the life experience of the twins), so bravo for pulling off that balancing act. For all his obvious faults, his family still loves him very much, and that says a lot. Dying a hero at that point is just icing on the cake.
I've been caught up in the rush of grief and trying to organize things you'd rather not have to think about post-family death, so I'll disagree with >>Fenton about the cramped feeling (which isn't to say he hasn't had that experience, of course. I wouldn't think to presume), but I understand that things can feel disjointed and that sometimes you can laugh even in the most severe grief. Often, you must, or it will eat you alive. One of my most clear memory from the day my great grandfather died is sitting around the dinning room table with the extended family laughing as we shared memories about what a crotchety old bastard he was and how much we loved him anyway.
So, thumbs up.
I dare not call it a complaint, but I would like to see a bit more of Scootaloo in the later sections. I get that she's a new addition to the family so she's not as emotionally invested as everyone else so she's not as integral to the flow as emotions start running higher. That said, her role in the shopping section was adorable.
I think "child abandonment" is a happy medium. But he's not without his reasons, and he's still a little sympathetic (and I say this as someone with the life experience of the twins), so bravo for pulling off that balancing act. For all his obvious faults, his family still loves him very much, and that says a lot. Dying a hero at that point is just icing on the cake.
I've been caught up in the rush of grief and trying to organize things you'd rather not have to think about post-family death, so I'll disagree with >>Fenton about the cramped feeling (which isn't to say he hasn't had that experience, of course. I wouldn't think to presume), but I understand that things can feel disjointed and that sometimes you can laugh even in the most severe grief. Often, you must, or it will eat you alive. One of my most clear memory from the day my great grandfather died is sitting around the dinning room table with the extended family laughing as we shared memories about what a crotchety old bastard he was and how much we loved him anyway.
So, thumbs up.
I dare not call it a complaint, but I would like to see a bit more of Scootaloo in the later sections. I get that she's a new addition to the family so she's not as emotionally invested as everyone else so she's not as integral to the flow as emotions start running higher. That said, her role in the shopping section was adorable.
I enjoyed this once I'd gotten going, but I had a bit of a hard time getting into it. The opening especially felt sort of robotic; there was a lot of 'words words comma, words words' style sentences there, and it didn't really have what I'd call a 'hook'.
Getting past that, I found myself somewhat more engaged. From what I could tell, most of the conflict in this story comes from the difference between Rainbow's perception of her uncle and how everyone else saw him. That's good, but I think it might have been better if it came into the story a bit earlier. It was hinted at with Twilight mentioning the Wonderbolt thing, but it didn't really feel like it came into its own until the scene with the grocery teller. Could Spitfire have hinted at it, maybe?
The theme and style here seemed a bit start-and-stop. Like with the grocery clerk bit, or with meeting Rainbow's parents; thing shift mood very rapidly at times, and I wasn't always sure I felt sold on it. From goofy antics to yelling at ponies for gossip... Or, like, the dream bit, with all the 'silver and violet' stuff, when silver and violet don't seem to play a huge part in the thematics before and after. It's not exactly bad? I just think it could be better, if it was eased into and out of a bit more smoothly somehow. Like the scene with the wind and her grandpa, which seemed like it should be really important, but just kinda started and stopped. And the 'key not sword' bit. That seemed like it should get more explanation than it did, judging by the placement and weight of the phrase.
There were a few odd quirks to the writing, here and there; I had a bit of trouble keeping Wind and Bow apart at times, and this line:
Especially tripped me up, because it breaks the 'one actor per paragraph' thing and also uses narration instead of dialogue (spitfire spoke) in the middle of what seemed to be a dialogue section.
On the whole, though, I felt like this had a lot of soul, and that's worth quite a bit. I appreciate the emotion you're reaching for, and I liked the genuine feel of the characters and their circumstances.
With a bit of trimming and polishing, I'd like this even more, but as is, it's still very enjoyable. Thanks for writing.
Getting past that, I found myself somewhat more engaged. From what I could tell, most of the conflict in this story comes from the difference between Rainbow's perception of her uncle and how everyone else saw him. That's good, but I think it might have been better if it came into the story a bit earlier. It was hinted at with Twilight mentioning the Wonderbolt thing, but it didn't really feel like it came into its own until the scene with the grocery teller. Could Spitfire have hinted at it, maybe?
The theme and style here seemed a bit start-and-stop. Like with the grocery clerk bit, or with meeting Rainbow's parents; thing shift mood very rapidly at times, and I wasn't always sure I felt sold on it. From goofy antics to yelling at ponies for gossip... Or, like, the dream bit, with all the 'silver and violet' stuff, when silver and violet don't seem to play a huge part in the thematics before and after. It's not exactly bad? I just think it could be better, if it was eased into and out of a bit more smoothly somehow. Like the scene with the wind and her grandpa, which seemed like it should be really important, but just kinda started and stopped. And the 'key not sword' bit. That seemed like it should get more explanation than it did, judging by the placement and weight of the phrase.
There were a few odd quirks to the writing, here and there; I had a bit of trouble keeping Wind and Bow apart at times, and this line:
Rainbow Dash turned to go, but halted when Spitfire spoke her name again. “Ma’am?”
Especially tripped me up, because it breaks the 'one actor per paragraph' thing and also uses narration instead of dialogue (spitfire spoke) in the middle of what seemed to be a dialogue section.
On the whole, though, I felt like this had a lot of soul, and that's worth quite a bit. I appreciate the emotion you're reaching for, and I liked the genuine feel of the characters and their circumstances.
With a bit of trimming and polishing, I'd like this even more, but as is, it's still very enjoyable. Thanks for writing.
I love the whole angle of the expectations vs. reality regarding Sirocco. I'm a sucker for domestic stories, and a story essentially about family is pretty much right in my comfort zone.
There's a serious pacing problem in the first 1-2K of this story, however. Sorta loses me, which is a shame because once you get going you really get going. Like others have said, there are some really great moments in here and there's an earnest heart to this that I can't help but love. Serious work to make that opening less disjointed would do wonders for this story. You might also consider expanding it so that you aren't cramped with tons of characters in a small space.
There's a serious pacing problem in the first 1-2K of this story, however. Sorta loses me, which is a shame because once you get going you really get going. Like others have said, there are some really great moments in here and there's an earnest heart to this that I can't help but love. Serious work to make that opening less disjointed would do wonders for this story. You might also consider expanding it so that you aren't cramped with tons of characters in a small space.
Basically agreed with >>Fenton. It's not that I don't think characters can react to grief by having normal life moments with each other, but that the difference between the grief moments and the normal moments gave me whiplash. In particular, the first scene when Rainbow returned home felt almost creepy to me; the first time that Sirocco is even mentioned, by anyone, is the line:
In between that and the deliberate lack of pictures -- and Rainbow's reaction before going home signaling that she was deeply and personally traumatized -- it felt like I was reading two different stories.
(Speaking of which, we learn later that Sirocco was a Wonderbolt, and that was common knowledge. Why didn't everything grind to a halt when the news came up? Any Wonderbolt old-timers on the scene sure would have had a reaction! Heck, plausibly Spitfire might have known the content of the letter before Dash even opened it up -- and that could have been a more compelling scene if she'd had to break the news of Dash's uncle's death to her, face to face.)
I think, author, you could have gotten away with exploring the wide range of emotional response if you'd had a smaller cast, where you could focus more in-depth on the struggles of a few ponies with trying to find a new normal in the wake of Sirocco's death. And I think you could have gotten away with the huge ensemble cast if you'd had all the emotions pulling in the same direction. But this ended up a little too ambitious trying to do both at once.
Tier: Almost There
“You may have got the flying from your uncle,” Windy laughed, “But not the cooking, that’s for sure!” Then everyone was laughing.
In between that and the deliberate lack of pictures -- and Rainbow's reaction before going home signaling that she was deeply and personally traumatized -- it felt like I was reading two different stories.
(Speaking of which, we learn later that Sirocco was a Wonderbolt, and that was common knowledge. Why didn't everything grind to a halt when the news came up? Any Wonderbolt old-timers on the scene sure would have had a reaction! Heck, plausibly Spitfire might have known the content of the letter before Dash even opened it up -- and that could have been a more compelling scene if she'd had to break the news of Dash's uncle's death to her, face to face.)
I think, author, you could have gotten away with exploring the wide range of emotional response if you'd had a smaller cast, where you could focus more in-depth on the struggles of a few ponies with trying to find a new normal in the wake of Sirocco's death. And I think you could have gotten away with the huge ensemble cast if you'd had all the emotions pulling in the same direction. But this ended up a little too ambitious trying to do both at once.
Tier: Almost There
I liked the story. It had heart and some really good moments, but I had a really hard time drawing a continuous line from beginning to end-- in tone, timeline, and setting. Most of these could have been solved, like >>Fenton said, with more words. But I don't think it just needs to be longer.
It seems to me that either we see characters acting or talking. Take for example when Rainbow woke up from her dream. Grandpa is yelling and we get one line about stairs. Everyone is talking and then the grandpa said "Hop to it, lads!” which was immediately followed by “Hiya, Gramps. Good to see ya.” I had to reread the section several times before I understood that it was Dash who had entered and was greeting her grandfather rather than the 'lads', which could have been avoided with a simple "Dash rounded the corner". It was similarly jarring in the market when they split up only for them to 'Reunite in no time flat'. There was no transition, no sense that time had moved, before we reached the next scene.
I also got confused when the Grandpa was yelling at the wind. He just started talking to nothing and then magic windstorm and I was totally lost. Looking back I can piece it together and guess at why everything was happening but the tone and actions of the characters shifted so suddenly and without warning that I had to try and play catch-up.
And Scoots. While I did like how she played into some of the scenes where she appeared, I don't understand why she was in the story. If you decide to keep her I'd like to see her play a bigger part, maybe like >>Zaid Val'Roa suggested. Cause she appeared twice in the last three sections-- and that was only by mentions of her name.
I think that the night scene with the grandfather was my favorite part, although I still felt like I was only getting half the story at times. The grandpa seemed at his most consistent here and I could really get a grip on his character. I could see his care, how he reminisced, and how he understood better than most. This was the part of the story that really sucked me in, which is why I was somewhat crestfallen when the line "The Major stood suddenly, the dreadnought borne moonward on the surging wave" broke me out of it. The suddenness seemed to contradict the mood that had been established. It was like he was angry with the last comment, but that wasn't backed up by the following lines. If he instead "stood slowly, like a dreadnought borne moonward on the rising tide." I think it would have kept closer to the mood you had established. I got a really strong "Second Hand Lions" vibe here and I loved it!
Overall, good job! Can't wait to see this up on fimfic!
Edit: Actually, you fic mirrors Second Hand Lions in a lot of ways. Nice!
It seems to me that either we see characters acting or talking. Take for example when Rainbow woke up from her dream. Grandpa is yelling and we get one line about stairs. Everyone is talking and then the grandpa said "Hop to it, lads!” which was immediately followed by “Hiya, Gramps. Good to see ya.” I had to reread the section several times before I understood that it was Dash who had entered and was greeting her grandfather rather than the 'lads', which could have been avoided with a simple "Dash rounded the corner". It was similarly jarring in the market when they split up only for them to 'Reunite in no time flat'. There was no transition, no sense that time had moved, before we reached the next scene.
I also got confused when the Grandpa was yelling at the wind. He just started talking to nothing and then magic windstorm and I was totally lost. Looking back I can piece it together and guess at why everything was happening but the tone and actions of the characters shifted so suddenly and without warning that I had to try and play catch-up.
And Scoots. While I did like how she played into some of the scenes where she appeared, I don't understand why she was in the story. If you decide to keep her I'd like to see her play a bigger part, maybe like >>Zaid Val'Roa suggested. Cause she appeared twice in the last three sections-- and that was only by mentions of her name.
I think that the night scene with the grandfather was my favorite part, although I still felt like I was only getting half the story at times. The grandpa seemed at his most consistent here and I could really get a grip on his character. I could see his care, how he reminisced, and how he understood better than most. This was the part of the story that really sucked me in, which is why I was somewhat crestfallen when the line "The Major stood suddenly, the dreadnought borne moonward on the surging wave" broke me out of it. The suddenness seemed to contradict the mood that had been established. It was like he was angry with the last comment, but that wasn't backed up by the following lines. If he instead "stood slowly, like a dreadnought borne moonward on the rising tide." I think it would have kept closer to the mood you had established. I got a really strong "Second Hand Lions" vibe here and I loved it!
Overall, good job! Can't wait to see this up on fimfic!
Edit: Actually, you fic mirrors Second Hand Lions in a lot of ways. Nice!
Most of my thoughts have already been expressed by others, so I'll be brief. This story was nice, but some scenes seemed out of place. They seem to be important, but there is no follow-up. Especially the dream and the wind scene are very confusing.
About the number of characters, it may be a bit cramped but personally it didn't bother me too much. On the contrary, I appreciated that you hint at a larger family and a more developed family history.
>>MrExtra
About Scootaloo, it feels like she should be the point of view of the story. It's like having Sherlock and Watson, but a Watson that doesn't narrate.
It would be interesting to have the story told from the point of view of Scootaloo, and it would make sense. She's close enough to participate in family scenes, she'd follow Rainbow Dash anywhere, but she doesn't want to intrude so she stays quiet and observes. Plus, she doesn't have any more knowledge about family history than the reader.
Just a thought.
About the number of characters, it may be a bit cramped but personally it didn't bother me too much. On the contrary, I appreciated that you hint at a larger family and a more developed family history.
>>MrExtra
About Scootaloo, it feels like she should be the point of view of the story. It's like having Sherlock and Watson, but a Watson that doesn't narrate.
It would be interesting to have the story told from the point of view of Scootaloo, and it would make sense. She's close enough to participate in family scenes, she'd follow Rainbow Dash anywhere, but she doesn't want to intrude so she stays quiet and observes. Plus, she doesn't have any more knowledge about family history than the reader.
Just a thought.