> “Alright, do you see the big dipper?”
“Yeah, I see it”
> “Good, now follow the two stars that make up the far end…”
> You follow your father’s finger as it traces an imaginary line across the night sky
> “And you arrive at the little dipper, see it?”
“Yeah… I think so.” You reply, turning your head slightly, “It looks like it’s upside down.”
> He chuckles slightly, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
> “Now, do you see that star on the end of the handle?”
> You nod in confirmation. The star on the end of the handle sticks out among the others, glowing more brightly than those around it
> “That’s the north star son. Every star in the sky rotates slowly except that one, which always points north.”
> “As long as you can find that star, you won’t be lost. You will always be able to find your way home if you can see that star.”
“Got it dad.”
> “Good,” he says, placing his hand on your shoulder, “You’re learning fast son, I’m very proud of you. I know you’ll do well.”
“Can you show me some of the other constellations?”
> “Yeah, I think we have some time before it gets too late. Let’s see… why don’t we start with Orion…”
> You bolt upright, your chest covered in a cold sweat
> You glance around, reminding yourself of your surroundings
> It’s the middle of the night, you were sleeping under a large overhang of rock you found yesterday.
> The remnants of a cooking fire smoke and softly crackle nearby
> You’re still in the woods. You’re still in Equestria
> You’re still not home
> Your bury your face in your hands, shuddering
> You can’t go home. You know you can’t go back. Why do you have to be reminded of that almost every night?
> You rise to your feet. You need a walk. You need to clear your head
> Gilda is curled up nearby, sound asleep. Her face tucked under her wing and her chest slowly rising and falling with each breathe.
> You slowly creep out of the alcove, careful not to wake her.
> There’s a full moon out tonight, bathing the forest in a pale white light
> You work your way through the trees. You have no idea where you’re going and honestly, you don’t really care
> You just needed to clear your head
> After a few minutes of walking, you find yourself in a clearing at the top of a small hill.
> It’s a near cloudless night, the stars of the sky in full display
> The last lights of day have long since faded, allowing even the meekest of stars to be visible.
> The tiny specks blend together into great streaks of cosmic dust, set against a backdrop of dark blues, blacks, and purples.
> It was beautiful really, like a gigantic painting, but it was bittersweet. You scanned the sea of lights, hoping to find that one unique star.
> You knew you wouldn’t find it
> You never found it
> Not since you arrived here
> You sat there for several minutes, just staring at the unfamiliar sky above you.
> Behind you, you hear the soft sound of claws and paws walking over the dew covered grass
> “Anon?” Gilda asked, sounding drowsy, “What’re you doing out here?”
“Nothing,” You reply, “Just…thinking.”
> “About what?”
> You’re silent for a few moments as you try to articulate your thoughts
“Gilda, how do you know which way is north?”
> Gilda looks at you, confused
> “This isn’t some bizarre philosophy crap is it? Like that tree in a forest thing?”
“No,” you shake your head, “I just mean, how do you direct yourself? With the stars and stuff.”
> Gilda moved forward, sitting beside you
> “Okay, do you see those three bright stars over there?” she asked, pointing with her talon.
> You follow her claw to a point a few inches above the horizon. You see three white stars, arranged in an isometric triangle
> “See how they form a triangle? The top always points north.” She explained
“But what good is that? The stars change every night.” You point out
> “Those three don’t. They’re always in the same spot.”
“Why?”
> “I don’t know,” she shrugged, “They just are.”
> You stare at the three stars for a while. It wasn’t much, being able to tell which way was north, but it was something you had missed.
> It was something that you could do back home, one of the many little things this world robbed from you
> But now you had it back.
> Gilda stood up, turning around and walking back toward camp
“Hey Gilda,” you call back, still sitting on the grass
> She stopped, looking back at you
“Thanks.”