Rarity bit her tongue as she concentrated getting the quill as close to her target as possible. Sweat poured from her brow from the hot, humid air. Her furred cowl was stifling and narrowed her vision, she must see far and blinked to clear her dry eyes. Her saddlebags were heavy, bearing down on her back, while her target was so very far away; and looked as though it were getting further as the moments ticked by. 