The trip to Skyfleet Academy would be the longest Terry had ever made. 

His family didn't own a horseless carriage, so he would have to take a bus to the nearest city, Bloomfield. Of course, calling it a city was a bit generous. In the metropolitan areas of the country, Bloomfield would be considered nothing more than a large town. Bloomfield had something Garthwood did not, however: a passenger train station. While Garthwood had a rail line running through its outskirts (that had long since been repaired since the incident), it rarely saw passenger trains, only freight.

His family had accompanied him to the bus stop, which sat just on the outskirts of Garthwood, and at the side of the only paved road in the area. Despite being surrounded by identical farmfields on both sides, Terry knew the area well. His friend Rosa used to live nearby, in a wooden, rustic home he could see from the bus stop. While it was once a charming place, it was now thoroughly abandoned and dilapidated; even from this distance he could see its collapsed roof. 

His heart sank at the sight. It was truly a corpse left to rot out in the open.

Fortunately, he couldn’t dwell on it long. His mother had been fussing at him the entire way here, double-checking and triple-checking the list of things she and Terry (mostly she) had decided were essential to bring. This was all conveniently stuffed in a single large, green sack Terry had on his back. Skyfleet had sent it in the mail with an introductory manual (which he still had to read) and specific cargo instructions: he was only to bring what he could fit in in the bag.

Luckily, they managed to fit in a lot.

"You remembered to pack that extra pair of winter socks, right? I know it doesn’t get too cold down in Swassia, but who knows where you might be traveling."

"Yes, mom."

"And you got your calming potions? Plus the prescription for refills?"

"Yes, mom."

"And your introductory manual?"

"Yes, mom." 

“Don’t forget to read it on the train ride like you’re supposed to!”

“I will, mom–” He coughed. “I mean, won’t forget…”

She meant well, of course, so he tried hard to hide the annoyance in his tone at her prodding. It was even harder to resist his hidden, Benny-like side from making him sarcastically answer 'no' to one of her questions, just to throw the process in a loop. Luckily, his willpower held out, even though his nerves were already being flayed at the idea of being truly on his own the first time in his life. If anyone had told him a year ago that this would be his fate right at the start of age eighteen, he would have laughed, but the joke was now on him. 

The bus was already there when they arrived. They were alone save for one other passenger already aboard, so at least this would give him time to say proper goodbyes. Naturally, his mother was teary-eyed as she said her's, repeatedly kissing him on the cheek.

"Don't forget about us ground folk when you're flying high, okay?" she said. "Write whenever you can."

"Once a week," Terry smiled. "At the very least."

He meant it, too. Being her only child, Terry knew this was going to be especially rough on her. However, he also knew his mother was a tough cookie. The nest may have been empty, but the mother bird wouldn't look mournfully at it for long.

After one last hug, he turned to his step-father, who offered him a smile and a handshake. 

"Still not liking this idea?" Terry asked hopefully, wishing the answer would be a flat ‘no’, even if he knew that was unlikely. 

"Of something like Skyfleet?" he asked, rhetorically more than anything. "Not completely." He raised a finger, smirking. "However, you've got a good head on your shoulders. I think they're different from the people I served, but if they aren't, I trust you to keep from getting sucked too far in. Don't ever, ever let them take away what makes you, you."

"I won't," Terry nodded

"And remember," Harry continued. "No matter where they might send you, we've got your back here at home." He paused, then added, "Not that I would ever tell you to desert if they turn out horrible of course, buuuut…"

His step-dad threw him a wink, and Terry laughed, even though he was certain his step-father wouldn’t actually mind it if he deserted.

There was a final round of goodbyes, interrupted by the bus driver impatiently calling: "One minute then we're outa here. Sorry, but I got a schedule to keep."

Terry took a deep, shuttered breath, as he took a step up into the bus. He turned one last time to face his parents. "Whelp, guess this is it. I'll see you at Yuletide. Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Terry's mom said. "I'll be praying for you."

Terry smiled warmly at her. He wasn't much of a religious person, but he appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless. "Don’t worry, mom. The Builder’s had my back so far. Love ya’!" 

As he stepped up the stairway into the bus proper, it hit him: his childhood was officially at an end. 

It should have been more sobering than it was.

The bus ride to Bloomfield was mostly uneventful. An hour of rolling through flat farmlands and then an hour of hilly farmlands. There wasn't even anyone else onboard save for Father Sunny of all people. Terry hadn’t seen him much the rest of the summer, though he had heard he would be moving on from Garthwood. He seemed to have packed light, with only a small travel sack and a guitar case by his side. Terry honestly never expected to be on the same bus as him, but he didn’t mind the company.

Sunny didn't speak too often. He spent most of his time staring reflectively out the window. But when he did, Terry found him to be his usual mysterious, though amicable self. 

“So, how did you like Garthwood?” Terry asked him during one conversation.

“Pretty darn nice, I gotta say,” Sunny said, smiling warmly. “With as many small towns I’ve visited over the years, woulda thought I’d get bored of em’ by now, but they all got their own unique flavors. Unique history.”

“You find anything interesting about us?” Terry prodded.

Sunny chuckled at that, apparently understanding immediately what Terry was hinting at. "Other than Starswirl Coffee? Naw, probably wonderin’ why I was so nosy, huh?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Terry said. 

“It’s alright,” Sunny said. “Preachin’ was my big purpose for comin’, but truth is, I also had some… loose threads I wanted to tie up. The Great War cut a lot of friends apart from each other, you know, and I heard one or two were livin’ there.”

“Did you find them?” Terry asked.

Sunny shook his head, a sad smile on him. “Fraid’ not. They moved on. And now, my travels take me yonda.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Terry said sympathetically. 

“All rivers flow to the sea, child,” Sunny said whimsically. “We’ll meet again eventually.” He shot Terry a strange, knowing look. “Still don’t make it hurt no less. That’s the thing about good friends: you don’t know how much they mean to you til they’re gone. M’I’rite?”

Terry closed his eyes, the thought of Rosa popping into his mind once more. “Definitely.”

Sunny took a deep breath. “Never mind about all that, though. You lookin’ forward to Skyfleet?”

"That obvious I’m joining, huh?" Terry asked, his spirits lifting.

"Mmm, there’s an eagerness to ya’," Sunny chuckled. "Seen it before.”

“Oh?” 

“That and your travel bag,” Sunny smirked. “Skyfleet issued.”

“Oh,” Terry laughed, before glancing at Sunny’s guitar case. “Speaking of traveling stuff, I didn’t think you played.”

“Not as much as I’d to anymore, but when I get the time.” Sunny’s eyes seemed to dart to the past. “I’ve always liked me some folksy tunes. Even the non-religious sort. Requires keepin’ an ear out listenin’ to the people. May sound weird, but when you do that, the universe never seems small. Keeps one from gettin’ conceited. You get to feelin’ about where your place is in the world: a part of the big ole’ song of life, Builder bless it.”

“I… never thought of folk that way,” Terry said. “But I guess it’s kind of in the name, isn’t it? ‘Folk’ music. As in, music of the common folks around ya’.”

“I feel like most music is like that, but that genre especially,” Sunny said, before winking. “Don’t pay ole’ Sunny’s ramblins’ much mind. Just me tryin’ ta sound deep. I’m glad ya’ got something out of it, though.”

Terry couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, you’ve traveled around a bit. Have you met any other Skyfleet cadets?”

“Here and there,” Sunny nodded. 

“So… what does a priest think of the whole thing?” Terry asked.

Sunny smirked knowingly. “Different than what many would expect, I'd bet. Skyfleet likes to market itself as a lotta things, but the main gist I get is they’re big on the sciences. Let me tell ya’, I got no qualms with anyone trying to understand what all this–” He gestured out the window at the rolling hills around them. “-is about. Many of mah’ predecessors couldn’t quite grasp that understanding only brings us closa’ to The Builder, but many could, then and now. Only people who got somethin’ to fear from a lil’ knowledge are those with somethin’ to lose. Catch what I’m sayin’?”

“I think so,” Terry said

Honestly, only now was he fully realizing the great intelligence behind the priest’s eyes. He hadn’t talked with many men of the cloth in his life, but if they were all like Sunny, he sorely underestimated them. He only wished that he could have got to know the old man a little more now while he was in Garthwood.

Tepidly, Terry continued with: “You know, Skyfleet’s looking for priests. I think they want to have religious services on their ships. Have you ever thought of-”

“Fraid’ I’m a lil too old to tangle with somethin’ so young,” Sunny said, smiling politely. 

Terry smirked back. “Worth a shot.”

Sunny chuckled again. “And it was a good one, I gotta say. But my path takes me elsewhere, child. Many in the nation need the word of The Builders in these changin’ times." He raised a finger. "Though I admit, faith can only do so much in the face of scarcity. That's where you come in."

Terry smiled slightly at that. “Skyfleet did help out the town a lot.”

“Mmm, they’re a good bunch, for sure,” Sunny said, a certain twinkle in his eye. “And ain’t all that a quaint notion in the first place? The folks up top sharin’ the harvest. Wasn’t always like that.”

“Not from what I hear,” Terry nodded.

“Lot can go wrong quick if they don’t,” Sunny said ominously. “I’ve seen just how far we can fall from the Builder’s grace.”

“The Great War?” Terry asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” Sunny said.

Terry raised an eyebrow. What could the old priest have seen that was worse than that?