Later, Dawn found himself alone and wandering.

He felt sour and miserable — after his unpleasant conversation with Midnight, no horse seemed to want his company. The older pegasi were all clustered around Storm, and both Under Star and Earth seemed edgy and uncomfortable with him after he'd come and told them about what the Head Mare had commanded him to do. They hadn't said it aloud, but he got the feeling that the two colts thought he would get them in trouble by making another mean-spirited remark. The thought rankled him.

I'm not going to make that foolish mistake again! All the same, it left him alone to puzzle out a solution to this problem, which was depressing. He'd hoped that Under Star and Earth would help him come up with some ideas.

He wandered a little further from the main herd, snorting absentmindedly as he trampled sun-soaked grass under hoof. Not too far, though — behind him, Mountain was grazing, lifting her head every now and then to make sure that he hadn't wandered off. So he went in circles, pawing at the ground in irritation.

I can't just apologize. I have to do something else for Storm. But what? He didn't know how to make her feel better. She wasn't well enough for pleasant conversation. Hm. A present, maybe? Yes, that was it. But what kind of present would Storm want? Something tasty perhaps? But they said she's not eating right. So what good would that do?

It was the best he could think of right now, though. Maybe some horsetongue. And if she doesn't want to eat it, I will. The thought was blunt and selfish, and was followed by a strike of guilt; he glanced over his shoulder, even though no one could have possibly heard his thoughts. Are they right? Maybe I really am mean and self-centered.

He shook his head and set off in search of horsetongue, a long-leafed, spicy-tasting grass that made for good cud on long flights when they couldn't land. He had just reached the bottom of the slope and was poking around in some fuzzy brush when a winged shadow swept across the golden grass. Looking up, he saw a lithe pegasus swooping down from the sky, coming to a running stop beside Mountain. Dawn's ears pricked.

Hawk!

He charged up the slope, black wings beating as he reached his older friend. "Hi, Hawk!" he said cheerfully. "How was your flight? You were gone a long time."

Mountain huffed indignantly, her head lurching up. "Cloud and sky, your lack of manners today astounds me," she said crossly. "We were speaking, Dawn — it's rude to interrupt."

Dawn dropped his head, embarrassed, and Hawk nickered in amusement. "All is well," she said, brushing one of her dark brown wings against Dawn's flank. "My flight was just fine, my friend — the winds favored me on the journey back, and I arrived sooner than I expected."

"If they carried you here, they will harry us there," Mountain said, suddenly becoming fretful. "And I fear the weather will only worsen as we lapse into the cold season. How did you find it at the coast?"

Dawn's ears pricked. The coast. The sea. Hawk was the swiftest of the herd and was often sent out as a scout or outrider to warn the rest of incoming obstacles during long stretches of flying. Three days ago, the Head Mare had instructed for Hawk to travel to the coastline and make note of the weather and changes in terrain both there and back, in preparation for the herd's journey after Storm recovered. Dawn could only imagine how amazing it must've felt to ride the skies alone, infinity both before and behind. And to see the sea in the middle! He envisioned his friend standing on top of those gritty cliffs that Rain had often told him about in stories, her wings spanned out as she took in the great expanse of water undulating under the blazing sun. What an awesome privilege — not for the first time, he wished that he was an outrider just like she was.

Well that's not going to happen anytime soon! Remembering the disdainful look in Midnight's eyes made prickles of shame snake through him all over again. In fact, it I don't handle this thing with Storm, maybe not ever...

"If there is a headwind, it will be a matter of choosing the height at which we fly," Hawk said. "Do you think that Storm will be able to handle going over mountains?"

Mountain shook her head morosely. "I'm afraid there's no telling," she said. "I would play it safe, and I'm sure Midnight would agree."

"Then lower," Hawk said, bowing her head in consent. "We'll just have to be careful not to be spotted by riders. Perhaps a few days before we depart, I can take the night to gauge the wind. If it looks like weather will be adverse, we can wait a few more days, see if it dies out."

"What about the coast?" Mountain asked again.

"Unchanged," Hawk said. She paused, her wings expanding and contracting rhythmically. "Mostly. I came back on a different route and spotted a stone-herd situated by a large lake, rife with riders. But besides that, nothing out of the ordinary."

Mountain nodded, then brushed her wing against Hawk's. "Midnight needs to hear this. You must be tired — graze here a while and I'll go give her the news." She then swung her head around to glare at Dawn. "Behave," she told him.

Dawn tried not to huff as she trotted away, parting a wide path through the swaying grass. Hawk nickered again and tagged his flank with the end of her tail.

"In trouble again?" she asked.

He folded his wings back. "Yes, but it was a mistake," he said defensively. "I didn't mean any harm, honestly..."

"Tell me all about it," Hawk invited as she cantered further into the grass. "I could use a good story to go with my meal."

As she grazed, tearing up thick chunks of root and grass, Dawn reluctantly related to her the events of the afternoon. She chewed thoughtfully as he spoke, and when he finally finished the embarrassing tale, her eyes were sympathetic.

"Poor dear," she said. "To be scolded by Mountain, Thunder, and Midnight... I'd be miserable too."

"But they're right," Dawn mumbled. "I shouldn't have said the things I did..." The more he recounted his words about Storm, the nastier they sounded when he actually said them aloud.

Hawk huffed in agreement. "Well, yes, obviously you shouldn't have been saying things like that — especially when someone might overhear you! So what do you plan to do to make it up to Storm?"

"I thought about finding her something tasty to eat," Dawn told her. He came trotting alongside her, snuffling down in the grass. "Do you think she'll take down some horsetongue?"

"Perhaps," Hawk said. "But she's had quite a sour stomach for a while now — it's possible that not even horsetongue will entice her."

Dawn's wings dropped, discouraged. "Then what?" he asked glumly. "I'm going to get in trouble if I don't do something — I don't want Thunder and Midnight to hate me forever."

"They aren't going to hate you forever," the older pegasus snorted, cuffing him playfully over the back of the head. "You're young — you make mistakes, and they just don't want you to make more in the future. But back to the matter at hand." She gazed skyward, chewing a mouthful of cud thoughtfully. "Sour stomach or no, I think something to eat is a good idea. But horsetongue, while great in flavor, is poor in substance. The more you eat, the hungrier you get."

This was true — the spicy grass was more like a tasty snack than an actual meal, which was what Storm sorely needed, according to the other mares. Dawn gazed upward with his friend, frustrated. Well, if not horsetongue, then what...?

High above, several dark, wheeling shapes appeared black against the sunlit clouds. They drifted in wide, sweeping circles, wings outstretched and unmoving. An enlightened prickle wound through Dawn as he suddenly got a brilliant idea.

"Hawks!" he cried.

"Yes?" his friend asked, her brown head swinging his way.

"No, no, hawks!" He pointed upward with his wing and reared, stomping the dry grass excitedly. "Hawks! That's what we can get for her, a hawk! Storm has a taste for those, doesn't she?"

Hawk's eyes widened, gleaming with intrigue. "Interesting idea," she said, sounding impressed...and excited. And he was relieved that it was her he was telling his sudden idea — had it been any other pegasus, his suggestion would have been dismissed immediately. Hawks, with their sharp vision, wily flight patterns, and vicious claws, were notoriously hard to hunt. And yet they were a mouth-watering delicacy, one that Dawn had only tasted once before, when he'd been very young, barely out of Mountain's womb. Sometimes, he still dreamt of the salty, gummy taste when he was very hungry.

Surely Storm would be open to the idea of eating one of those, sour stomach or no.

And, like a geyser, more inspiration burst forth: "You could help me!" he said to Hawk. "Not actually in taking it down, but the technique. You know how to hunt them." Even among pegasi Hawk was a talented flier, able to perform complicated airborne maneuvers that even Midnight and Thunder found difficult to replicate. Rain had once remarked that instead of chasing butterflies when she'd been young, as most colts had, Hawk had chased...well, hawks, an activity had that forced her to study and emulate her quarries' flight patterns in order to actually catch them. It was how she had received her name, and why she was infamous within the herd — she was the only one of them that actually caught raptors on a regular basis, usually for the older members.

Hawk chewed a mouthful of cud, slowly, thinking. "I don't know, Dawn," she said. "Raptors aren't easy. It took me a long time to learn how to take down even one...and Midnight wants you to do something for Storm today."

"But it's a good idea," Dawn insisted. "The best idea. And it's okay if it's hard — that'll just make it that much more impressive when I actually succeed."

Hawk was amused. "Think highly of yourself, don't you?"

Dawn's ears flattened. Am I being selfish again? But no, it wasn't arrogance, it was just... He felt he could do it. If he put his head do it, he could. And after all, how hard could it be, with Hawk teaching him?

"All right, let's see what Midnight thinks about this little venture," Hawk said.

--

To his relief, Midnight gave them leave to hunt hawks. There was some curiosity in her eyes as she gave her permission — Hawk had presented the idea as Dawn's, and, like Hawk, she seemed impressed by his creativity. That encouraged Dawn — it was a good first step. Now if he actually delivered, maybe both the Head Mare and Thunder wouldn't be cross with him anymore.

Under Star and Earth caught wind of their task, and came cantering over from where they'd been with Storm. "You're going to hunt hawks?" Under Star asked, looking awed. "I want to come!"

"Me too!" Earth said. "I want to see Hawk bring one down."

Dawn snorted. I'm the one who's going to be bringing home meat!

"Of course you can come," Hawk said, her tail spinning enthusiastically. "In fact, we'll need your help — there's a special formation we're going to create to trap one and catch it."

"Really?" Under Star was practically bouncing on his hooves now, trembling with excitement.

"Really. Now let's go — first, we've got to find some hawks!" With that, Hawk took off, and the three colts, bristling with restless energy, bolted after her, chasing her deep into the grass. Dawn's heart was thrumming wildly in his chest, and he marveled at how a task that had seemed so intimidating before now seemed like an exciting adventure.

They left the herd behind, traversing one hill, and then two. Hawk leapt a tiny stream, and the three colts followed, and as they headed up through a stand of trees, Hawk cried, "Take a look! See them?"

She nodded skyward, and Dawn looked up and saw a small group of dots wheeling far above — hawks, the same ones that he and Hawk had seen a little while ago. My prey!

"Ready to fly?" Hawk called over her shoulder. Her wings rose from her back, massive and golden, and a bolt of adrenaline flashed through Dawn's blood, more potent than lightning.

Skies, yes! Beside him, Under Star and Earth spread their wings, and he thrust his out with them. Up ahead, Hawk was picking up speed, laying her wings flat. On top of the wind, he remembered Mountain telling him, long ago when he'd first learned. He copied his friend, laying his wings flat, and indeed the wind felt solid beneath him as he ran, faster and faster, his legs burning. Ahead, Hawk passed under the branches of an elm and kicked into a massive jump. She did not descend — instead she rose, sweeping from up underneath the tree and towards the infinite blue.

Dawn followed her path, racing beneath the elm and then bringing his wings down on the wind, pushing up. And up. And up. His hooves left the ground and did not return — instead the ground fell away, the blades of grass fading into a continuous blanket of patchwork green. Up, and up, and up. The air grew cold, and the wind picked up, but Dawn did not feel the chill — his blood blazed through his flesh and the wind screamed in his ear and carried his wings and it was the best feeling in the world. The sky engulfed him all around, an endless plain, an empty domain, away from bugs, away from the heat, away from those dangerous riders, away from problems and worries and pesky older pegasi. Here there was joy and freedom — forever and always.

Bleating happily, he pumped his legs, reveling in the strength of his muscles, the power of his wings. He charged in a wild circle, dove, leveled out, rose. Happy whinnying behind him — Under Star and Earth, chasing each other up and down the sky. Dawn went after them, and for a moment there was just bliss as the three lost themselves in a game of sky tag.

"Hey!" Hawk called after a while. "Are you three planning on playing around all day? We're here to hunt hawks, remember?"

The three came to her, panting from their game. "What do we do first?" Dawn asked.

"Get closer, obviously." Dawn could barely hear Hawk over the wind — it was strong way up here, and had torn away the clouds, leaving the lovely blue empty, bright, and tasting like sun, just as he liked it. He banked and went lower.

"Will they run when they see us?" Under Star asked.

"Perhaps," Hawk said. She shifted as Dawn came down to join them, giving him room to fly alongside them without their wings colliding. Not for the first time, he was impressed by the ease at which she moved — physically, that shift had been a very simple maneuver, but he knew as well as any that it was much easier to move vertically than horizontally during flight, given a limited amount of space. "Hawks are predators, so they rarely find themselves being hunted. It could be that they see us as giant, misshapen birds, and will let us closer."

"And if they do?" Earth asked.

"Then we try to isolate one," Hawk said. "Very slowly, very carefully."

Dawn was intrigued. "How do we do that?"

"We'll keep our distance for a little while," she replied. "Then, after we choose our target, we'll ease ourselves into a formation that surrounds it. Slowly, we'll swoop closer and closer, forcing it away from the rest of its flock. Then, just when it starts getting nervous, Dawn will drive it to ground."

Dawn's heart began to gallop faster, from excitement or anxiety, he couldn't tell. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Simple: you'll rise and then come down on him. Hawks are quick to notice things, so I doubt you'll be able to strike him with your hooves before he notices, but when he moves, he'll most likely dive down. And you'll follow him, scaring him with your shadow, until you reach him. Then, you'll quash him to the ground, and mission accomplished."

Dawn was impressed; it was a crafty plan, but not so complicated that he couldn't pull it off. I can definitely do this!

Slowly, they approached the flock of sailing birds. There were ten of them, and they wheeled about up and down the sky, in a scattered, circling column. Dawn and the rest of them came up to the gut of the formation, slowing as they drew nearer. No need to scare them off.

The raptors noticed, but they didn't scatter — they simply spread out, giving each individual more room to glide. They're letting us in! Dawn thought.

"Easy now," Hawk said to them. She nodded to one individual a ways below, tan and flecked with brown, but a little smaller than the rest. "Let's try that one. Under Star, get beneath it. Earth, you and I will flank it. Dawn, stay up here. We'll slowly move it away from the rest of the group."

The pegasi separated, carefully following Hawk's directions. Dawn remained at his present altitude, watching the other three drop. A few of the hawks changed directions as the pegasi descended, but none fled. Soon, Dawn's friends were in their positions around their target, gliding innocently in a wide circle around it. The hawk didn't appear to notice.

Hawk said something that Dawn couldn't hear over the wind, but he saw Earth move suddenly, folding in a wing and tilting on her side. She angled in, moving horizontally towards the hawk. Reflexively, the bird backed up, sidling sideways, and Hawk did the same, giving it room to do maneuver.

They glided through three more wide circles.

Then, Earth moved again, towards the hawk, pushing it back. Moments later, she moved again on Hawk's command. This time the raptor squawked in alarm and tried to dive. But Under Star was there below it, and it pulled up short. It looked nervous now — its head swiveled, eyeing them anxiously.

"Dawn, it's time," Hawk called up.

She was right — they were well away from the rest of the birds now, who had turned into dots in the distance. "What do I do?" he asked.

"Come down on its head, or back," Hawk whinnied. "The impact will knock it right out of the sky, and we can retrieve it from the ground."

Right! Dawn focused in on his prey, descending in a gradual loop. One strike is all it'll take. Watch!

"Careful, now," Hawk warned him. "Your shadow—"

Too late. As Dawn plunged, his shadow swept over the raptor like a dark cloud, and it let out a panicked squawk and bolted. By the time Dawn struck through the space where it had been, it was gone, shooting towards the horizon.

"Curse it!" Dawn cried. Hawk rose up to meet him, looking sympathetic.

"Bad luck," she said. "I told you it wouldn't be easy."

"But I almost had it," he growled. "Did you see how close I was?"

Hawk looked a little skeptical at that; Under Star came up behind her. "Should we try again?" he asked. "There're plenty more over there..."

"I want that one!" Dawn said, glowering in the direction the hawk had disappeared. He hadn't liked how easily it had gotten away; he imagined it laughing its feathers loose at its easy escape, and his blood boiled a little.

"That one's gone, my friend," Hawk said, her wing tip brushing his. "Come on. This'll be a good way for you to practice isolating your prey, anyhow."

They turned back towards the flock, but Dawn didn't. It was just so frustrating that after a carefully laid plan, the quarry had slipped free so effortlessly. And what if the others escaped too? It seemed stupid to waste so much energy on coaxing away other prey when they'd already chased one into isolation.

"I'm going after this one," he called. "You guys go try to catch another one."

"Dawn, wait!" Hawk cried, but her cries were lost in the wind as he beat his wings, charging after the fleeing hawk. There was no time to waste — he'd show that lousy hawk! He was going to find it and lay it at Storm's feet, no matter what.