As many can image, in a country where the word 'ice' is in the name, winter must be a great beast. Any plane flying low enough wouldn't be able to get further than half way before icicles formed on their wings, their oil began to chill, their flaps iced over. The wind was a never/ending river of pins and needles that pierced the outer casing of the fuselage, firewood to the fire that the cold brought with it, as it spread over the wings, the frame, the stabilizers. Piles of snow weighing down on the wings. Even during the summer, it had been torture to Dusty, who back then, couldn't bring himself to even near over 200 feet. Now, in the winter, it was going to be absolutely hellish.

Well, it's a good thing Dusty wouldn't have to fly in those conditions.

Thanks to Ripslinger, he had pushed himself to rid himself of his fear of extreme heights. Thanks to him, Dusty would have the parodies over the clouds to cruise through instead of fighting the harsh winds and frigid frozen water denting his fuselage.

He cringed at the thought: Huh, I guess Ripstinker was good for at least one thing. Ew.

Dusty's train of thought was derailed as, with a sudden whoosh of air, his smooth bumpless flight plan was disturbed.

"Wo-woah!" He wobbled unsteadily, working to find us sense of balance in the now swirling air. In front of him, a plane appeared through the fluffed clouds. Well, the back of it.

He wasn't sure, it might have been the wind playing tricks on him, or just a fragment of his imagination. But he swore he heard a muttered apology coming from in front.

"Wait a sec....I recognize that color scheme."

"As he opened his mouth to say 'Hey, it's you!', the slight twinge of excitement inside of him turned to worry as the plane began to sway back and forth rapidly. A few droplets of water hitting him in the face brought his attention to the icicles that hung from her undercarriage and wings. She began to quiver, then, not of the cold, no. This was something else, an irregular shaking that, honestly, scared him.

Very suddenly, a loud 'bang!' exploded from out of the plane, and sparks began to fly out from the propellor, which Dusty had to doge as they shot out at him.

"IM SO SORRY!!" He definitely heard that, clear as he had ever heard anything before. Over the loud crackling that now emanated from inside of her, her quiet whimpers suddenly became audible to him. His instincts kicking in, he sped forward, so he now flew to the side of her.  A better view of her design was etched into his mind. Her fuselage was decorated with an intricate pattern of blue and light purple stripes that swirled together, trailing from her nose down to the back , where the two swirled lines that decided each side met, exploding into what looked like an organized mess of color. Speckles of gold completed the look, adjourning only the blue and purple, adding an effect that much reminded him of the galaxy and the stars in the sky. In the bright sun, they weren't visible, ironically. But as his shadow covered them, they began to shine under the low light.

Her wings, however, were a different story. From the moment they connected to her fuselage, the color began again. Blue and purple lines swirled around, painted in a design that added a mandala-like design on the top, while, at the same time, swirled around the top and bottom of the wing. At the point where the wing started to angle backwards, the lines were painted so they disappeared from the top, and reappeared at the very tips. Another detail was added, one he had noticed before: a small piece of metal on the tips of the wings that trailed back, leaving the ghost of a golden streak behind. Once again, gold speckles completed the finish.

Her stabilizers where interesting. They mimicked the design of her wing, as well as the shape, but instead, they curved partially upwards, much like Rochelle's, yet different.

As he sped up slightly, he fought a glimpse of her eyes. Once again, they deep essence of the color astounded him. The blue and purple blended together as if they were one color, yet he could slightly see where purple was purple, and blue was blue. The vibrancy of the hues, it was like they had been painted directly by an artist. They once again, captured his interest. It wasn't until more sparks intercepted his vision and sliced through his clear view that his mind was returned to the more serious matter at hand...er.....wing. Se let out a cry of uncertainty as her propeller once again crackled unnaturally. As her eyes wandered to the side, and met his, they widened.

"What...are you...doing?!" She asked/cried with a voice that suggested he was doing something illegal. "You're going to get hurt!" The cry both hurt and touched Dusty. On one hand, she was basically rejecting his help. Sort of rude in his book. But at the same time, she was concerned with his safety. With her uncontrollable swaying, he was honestly surprised that he, too, wasn't more concerned for his own safety. But, he couldn't control his 'Bulldog instincts', as he liked to call them in honor of the first time they ever made themselves known the previous year. Checking his antenna signal, it caught him off guard when the blimp showed they were practically above the first stop.

"Listen to me; I'm going to help you land..."

"And why the heck would you do that?!" All of the sudden, her propeller began to waver, stopping and starting suddenly. The sound of a motor failing could be faintly heard from back there, and her eyes widened even more. "W-what was that?" The question was coated in a thick layer of fear and trembling. Without so much as a drop of smoke, the propeller froze, stopping in its tracks as if a rubber band had held it in it's place. Dusty's heart sank at the sight, because, he knew, he absolutely knew what was going to happen next.

"That....was the sound of your propeller failing."