“Okay, everypony… looks like the party’s over…” Pinkie seemed to be on the verge of tears as she spoke into the microphone. arco iris, arco-íris didn’t want her workers staying up all night, so Pinkie’s party had met its end at the stroke of midnight.

She suddenly brightened up. “But I’m sure we’ll have another one real soon!” She was probably right.

All the ponies shuffled toward the exit, past countless strewn cups, decorations, and unfinished food. Stylo was there amidst the crowd, walking beside Cloudchaser. He felt happier than he had ever been in his life.

He casually turned to his left and noticed that he was also walking seguinte to Flitter. She noticed his presence and hesitantly turned to him.

“That was… pretty cool, what you did up there…” she half-whispered to him, “You did that song justice.”

Stylo grinned. “Pshhh, that was all Cloudchaser. I just said ‘Science’ a bunch.”

Cloudchaser gave him a friendly soco on the arm. He giggled, shamelessly.

Flitter couldn’t help but laugh a bit, as well. “Seriously, though,” she replied, “Good job.”

Stylo was in heaven. He loved everyone. He loved Cloudchaser. He loved Flitter. He loved Pinkie for throwing this party. He loved Wild fogo for teaching him how to be motivated. He loved arco iris, arco-íris Dash for dragging him up here. He loved all these ponies for making him have fun. He hated to admit it, but having friends was pretty exhilarating. Sure, his book and pen would always be his best friends, but their company was very subdued, and they were often dreadful conversation starters. Stylo had to do most of the work when he-

“Wow, it’s freezing out here!” a voice from up ahead cried out, breaking Stylo out of his thoughts.

“Yeah… yeah, it is!”

“You’re not kidding!”

“What’s going on?!”

Stylo smugly buttoned up his heavy coat.

As the pónei, pônei crowd made it out of the rec center, it gradually dawned on everyone that it was, in fact, cold – much too cold for July. Stylo tentatively poked a hoof down into the nuvem they all stood on; it was icy to the touch.

“Rainbow! Come look at this!” a gold-haired pegasus was jumping up and down near the edge of the cloud. arco iris, arco-íris quickly zipped over to her.

“What is it, Raindrops?”

“This nuvem we’re standing on! It’s a… a snow cloud!”

“WHAT?!”

“Look!”

arco iris, arco-íris dashed over the edge and hovered beside the cloud. Sure enough, white, airy flakes were pouring from it like no tomorrow.

“This is bad.”

She looked down toward Ponyville. Small clusters of bright lights caught her eye. She squinted, trying to make out their source. Horrified, she realized what they were.

“Oh no. We’re in trouble.”

“What is it?” Raindrops flew down to see.

“You see those lights? Those are torches. The ponies are protesting.”

“Oh no…”

“We’d better clear this up before they get angry enough to come up here!”

arco iris, arco-íris flew up to address her workers.

“Alright, everypony! This is like a million times worse than we thought! Ponyville is protesting. We need to sort this mess out NOW.”

Stylo watched her in awe. arco iris, arco-íris was in the zone, commanding her helpless troops from up above, her lilás eyes burning brightly in the moonlight. Just that morning he would’ve dismissed her requests without a segundo thought. Now, however, he found himself absolutely captivated por her presence and willing to do whatever she asked.

“Split up into four groups!”

The ponies instantly did as they were told.

“You! North! You! South! East! West! Go, go go!!!”

The groups took off in a flash, motivated por Rainbow’s urgency and fueled por their own fear. Stylo found himself in the south-bound group, heading around behind the giant bolinho, queque he had emerged from. His comrades dispersed in every direction, kicking and flapping at the nuvem they stood on and any other clouds they could find. Stylo realized that Pinkie’s rec center wouldn’t survive this shift.

“…stylo…!” His ears perked up at a distant voice.

“YES?!” he called back.

“…Stylo!”

Wild fogo flew towards him, eyes wide with urgency.

“I saw something! A-… a-a bright flash of light! Something really weird… over there!” she explained, trying to sort out her frantic thoughts.

“Over there?” Stylo asked, stretching out a hoof.

“Yeah! I think I saw some weird shadow floating around, too!”

Stylo squinted off into the darkness. He couldn’t make anything out in the moonlight but clouds and frantic pegasi, but he took her word for it.

“Okay. I’ll go take a look; you find arco iris, arco-íris and tell her!” Stylo commanded.

“Okay!” Wild fogo saluted and took off to the North. Stylo dashed away into the dark to investigate her findings.

---
Stylo was alone, running as fast as he could through the eerily quiet night air. No other pegasi had ventured this far South, leaving Stylo on a renegade mission to find Wild Fire’s mysterious light and shadow. Wild fogo considered recruiting other ponies to help Stylo on his journey, but the prospect of making good workers waste valuable time on a potentially pointless mission kept her from doing so. So Stylo ran. And ran. And ran.

He wasn’t an incredible runner por any means, but Wild Fire’s urgency had provided him with a steady supply of adrenaline for his journey, propelling him progressivo, para a frente with great speed.

He ran bipedally – pumping his forelegs back and forth por his chest as his back legs carried him on. Little fillies and colts had always giggled at his strange posture throughout his childhood, but Stylo insisted that life on two legs was better than life on four. He felt it made him look mais sophisticated; mais cultured. He felt superior as he towered over his schoolmates at recess.

As he sprinted off to his unknown destination, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have stayed on all fours. He was always slower than his schoolmates, but he wasn’t sure whether to blame that on his posture or his apathy. The thought that he might be letting his fellow pegasi down over a silly life choice worried him, however.

Stylo’s breathing became quite heavy. He began worrying that his journey was for naught, and that he was wasting time out here in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, these thoughts didn’t last long.

“…There!”

Stylo stopped running and crouched down, panting. He saw it. A bright flash of light, just on the other side of the nuvem mound in front of him. He kept low, waiting to see it again.

“Where are you…” he breathed, waiting patiently. A few segundos passed. Flash! Again, in the same spot. It wasn’t lightning. Spurred on por nervous curiosity, he peeked over the cloud. Down below, he saw a shadowy figure darting this way and that, examining the clouds. His mouth fell open as he watched the figure channel some strange energy into the clouds, punctuated por a bright blue flash. No doubt about it – that was powerful magic. This thing was the cause of all these unexplainable weather patterns.

Urged on por his momentous discovery, Stylo flung himself over the nuvem and slid down to confront the figure.

“YOU!” he cried, sliding right to the culprit and angrily pointing a hoof.

“Me?” The figure turned to him, face obscured por the shadow of a dark hooded cloak. It was clearly female, and possessed a low, brooding voice.

“You’re the one causing all this!” Stylo spat.

“Yes, it seems you’ve caught me,” the mysterious mare replied, “But do you not see that por convicting me… you have forsaken your element of surprise?”

“Yes! But… oops.” Stylo analyzed the situation. He had just carelessly confronted what was obviously a powerful unicorn with no weapons whatsoever to defend himself. Not one of his brighter moments.

“HAH!” the figure cackled, suddenly firing a bright red bolt of energy out of her horn. Stylo only had time to blink before taking the bolt in the face, sending him backflipping through the air. He finally met the nuvem ground after a few flips, crashing down on his aching back and wings.

“Haa-AAAGHH!” he cried out. The nuvem was soft, but his battered wings sent stabbing pains at the slightest touch. He cradled his head in his forelegs – his face felt like it was melting off.

The hooded mare mercilessly continued her assault. She levitated his broken body off the ground and pulled him towards her outstretched hoof with a flick of her horn. His face met it with tremendous speed, sending saliva flying out of his mouth and his body crashing back down to the ground.

Stylo cracked his eyes open in a daze, making out the blurry outline of his assailant above him. She stood over him and pointed her horn down at his chest, unleashing a burning stream of energy into him.

“AAAAHHHH-HAAAAHH!!!” He couldn’t help but cry out again as his insides coursed with heat and pain. He felt like he was being cooked alive.

The mare stopped shooting magic into him, opting instead for a much mais physical approach. She scooped him off the ground and braced his head with her hoof, giving him three rápido, swift punches in the face. She then whirled around and delivered a mighty kick with her back legs, catching Stylo square in the stomach and sending him flying backward.

Stylo couldn’t breathe. He coughed and wheezed as hard as he could, desperately trying to fill his lungs. Dread began creeping in through the pain. She was going to beat him to death right here. He had narrowly avoided death’s icy grip just a few hours earlier, but now she was back and ready for round two. And he wasn’t.

The mare walked over and scooped up Stylo’s battered body again, cocking a hoof for another round of vicious punches. “Mmm-hmm-hah-hah-hah…” she cackled, staring into his punch-drunk eyes.

Without sparing a thought, he shot a hoof progressivo, para a frente and threw her capuz, capa back. A familiar face stared back at him.