Dear Small Pony Book,
I must confess that my hosts’ insistence to move to one of the upper rooms proved most beneficial. Over the past several days, the warmth of their fireplace protected me from further torment at the hooves of the Winter Spirits, and sweet nectar of the love they offered me kept me strong despite my illness. However, my fever was persistent, and my sneeze and cold sweat had brought a few other symptoms along with them.
Namely, a dizzying headache and the hacking, phlegm and slime-filled cough as my glands overproduced in anticipation of a natural need to cocoon while I recovered. Warm room and thick blankets or not, my body felt the best way to preserve itself was a long nap while my hive mates cared for me. Changing my lifestyle and acquiring friends were one thing, but instincts would take far longer to follow suit.
My life for the days leading up to Hearth’s Warming were mostly filled with hours of sleeping, gazing up at the ceiling, and counting all the colorful ornaments Cadence had hung from the miniature tree she had brought in and set in the corner for me to enjoy.
“I know you love the colors,” she had said, “so I thought you might like something to keep your spirits up while you rest.”
A token gesture, but one I appreciated very much.
Aside from a near disaster when I toppled over as I tried to sneak my way downstairs to play peek-a-boo with Flurry while Cadence and Shining were busy in Court (and a subsequent informative Lecture from my hosts at dinner that night), everything went well. I was awaken on Hearth’s Warming morn by a giggling, babbling Flurry Heart flying over to land upon my chest and press her tiny hoof against my snout.
I blinked to clear my vision and gave a tired, sickly smile. “Good morning, Flurry,” I said softly.
“Tora, up!” she cried gleefully, before hugging me around my neck and pressing her cheek against mine. “Tora, Ar Mor! Ar Mor!”
Wrinkling my snout, I wrapped my hooves around her midsection and lifted her off me so I could look her in the eye. “Ar Mor?” I repeated. This was a new phrase from my over-lady. She is still learning the most basic parts Equish, so her speech is comprised mostly of the beginning of the words she means, coupled with babble. Which left the rest of us to play translator with the excitable little filly. “What is Ar Mor, Flurry?”
She pouted, as she often does when I don’t understand her words—in her own little mind, her diction is nothing short of flawless. We all simply lack the ability to comprehend it. Flurry Heart flicked her tail. “Ar Mor, Tora!” she said as if that explained everything. “Ar Mor, yay!”
Ar Mor, yay. Well, at least I knew she was happy. Now, the question was which sort of happy: the kind when she got sweets? Or the kind that came with a big mess?
Cadence’s bell-like laugh made me flick my earfins. I turned toward my hosts’ bedroom door to find her and Shining Armor watching us, both with smiles gracing their faces.
“I believe,” Cadence said, her voice tinged with unhidden mirth, “Flurry is trying to tell you that it’s Hearth’s Warming Morning, Thorax.”
“Ar Mor, Tora!” Flurry confirmed with a wave of her hooves.
I nodded in comprehension. “Ah. Of course. How silly of me.” My smile returned, I prodded Flurry’s belly, a trick I knew would draw a squeal before she dissolved into peals of laughter at my mercy. I ceased my efforts after only a few seconds so I could turn away and cough into my pillow, which drew a coo and a nuzzle.
“Tora yucky?” she asked sadly.
“Yes, Flurry. I’m still sick.”
Flurry drew back to fix me with her most pitiful wide-eyed stare, her bottom lip began to quiver. “Ar Mor!” she huffed. “No yuck, Ar Mor!”
No yuck, Ar Mor. My best guess was that she meant to give a command along the lines of “you can’t be sick, it’s Hearth’s Warming!” as if that would make me spring up from the couch with boundless energy. And, to be fair, I was tempted to at least put on the act just to make her happy.
A matching Look—capitalization required—from Cadence and Shining stopped me before I could even attempt it. I forced a smile and a weak chuckle.
Shining shook his head, smiling to himself in turn. “Come on, troublemakers,” he said, wrapping his magic around Flurry and lifting her onto his back. “Thorax, do you feel okay walking downstairs with your blankets, or do you need help.”
I rolled off the couch almost automatically, hastening to show that I was ready to serve as ever. The room wobbled a bit, but I beat back the dizzy feeling and stood tall, blankets and all. “I’ll manage.”
He looked a bit uncertain for a moment, but nodded. “Okay. Well, follow us. I’m pretty sure there should be a couple presents for you under the tree.”
Truth be told, I thought I heard wrong. I blinked twice, then tilted my head. “What for me?”
“Presents,” he repeated.
Presents? I wracked my brain. From past infiltrations, I recalled that ponies often gave gifts to loved ones on their birthday, but that didn’t make sense. It wasn’t my birthday. Changelings don’t even celebrate those. “Why?”
He shared a look with Cadence—one I recognized quite well. It was their silent “Thorax isn’t getting it, how do we explain” look.
I must admit, I have far too much experience seeing that look. But I maintain that it is no fault of mine that my education on pony culture is very much from the outside looking in. Still, I couldn’t blame them for being a bit unsure of how to explain things without treating me like a foal. They tried, at least, but sometimes it would just end up that way out of necessity.
Cadence broke the silence first. “It’s part of the tradition,” she said, “to exchange gifts with family, friends, and loved ones as a reminder of the bonds that helped the Three Tribes ward off the Wendigos before the founding of Equestria.”
Immediately, I liked this tradition. Anything that chased away the Winter Spirits had to be good. It was simple logic.
Still, I had to work this out for myself. Changelings had a similar thing, but it wasn’t around this time of year and the presents were … well, food. (Don’t look at me like that, Small Pony Book. I am trying to be delicate.)
“So, if presents are for loved ones, friends, and family … wait.” My earfins perked up. Despite the prevailing feeling of fever, I grinned. I was certain I figured it out. “I have one from Spike?”
Shining smirked. “Well, you’re not wrong. But you’re also not right.”
My smile faltered. “Huh?”
“You have a gift from Spike, yes.” He raised his brows. “But you don’t have one present.”
I stared. That didn’t make any semblance of sense.
My confusion was written plain for Cadence to see, as evident by the way she brought a hoof to her forehead and clipped Shining’s ear with a swipe of her wing. “Now you’re just confusing him.”
“Oh, come on! Let me have a little fun with him!”
“You’re terrible,” she said, smiling despite the nature of her words. Cadence turned her soulful purple eyes upon me and gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you come downstairs and see for yourself?”
The prospect of receiving a gift from my very first friend all but banished the aching muscles and dizzying headache. My sniffle and cough persisted, but I couldn’t have possibly cared any less. I was, for lack of better term, giddy.
Spike sent me a present! Spike sent me a present!
I could have … I don’t know, done something! I could’ve burrowed a hive in the side of the mountain all by myself! There! That’s a difficult thing that requires a lot of love and effort.
Anyway, I was giddy, but I managed to withhold it enough to descend the stairs with my hosts and not do anything too silly.*
As we came to the main hall, I noticed immediately that there had been a rather obvious change in the décor. Boxes wrapped in bright reds, greens, blues, and even pinks and adorned with ribbon sat around the tree, sprawling across the floor. There were five cushions positioned around the tree for each of us. Sunburst stood nearby, humming a tune as he worked to move them around and place them in some sort of order.
My eyes were drawn to the hat he wore on his head. It was a funny, fluffy red hat that looked more like a sock and tapered off to a point at the end. The image of a flame, the same as the one atop the tree, was sewn onto the hat’s front along with the words “the fires of friendship burn bright in our hearts” in elegant cursive.
He looked up just in time to see us reach the bottom step. His lips curved into a warm smile. “Good morning, everypony. Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
We each greeted him in kind (Flurry tried her best) and trotted over to join him.
Sunburst turned to Cadence first, as she was the de facto head of house. The whole being one of the Crown Princesses carried over to the domestic life, which, honestly, made perfect sense to me. “All presents are organized by recipient and accounted for,” he reported dutifully. “Should I pass them out, or would you prefer to?”
“You may if you like,” she replied. She sat down on the center cushion and held out her hooves to accept Flurry from Shining as he scooted another nearer and took his place at her right side.
I couldn’t help but note how picturesque they looked. The Royal Family of the Crystal Empire, all happy and huddled together by their Hearth’s Warming Tree. Though I was hardly one to look at newspapers or any of those beauty magazines I’d seen Cadence read (as if she would ever need tips, the silly mare), I imagined that many an aspiring young photographer or painter would love to capture such a scene.
For a moment, I felt distinctly out of place. Such celebrations in the Badlands Hive were different. They were celebrations after a good hunt, or the birth of a large group of hatchlings. Low-class infiltrators and weaker fighters weren’t permitted to sit anywhere near the Queen and her entourage.
Shining Armor caught my eye. He arched his brow and subtly jerked his head toward the cushion to his right, his meaning plain: Sit with us. You belong.
I obeyed without question. Even if it felt unusual, there was a not-so-small part of me that felt relieved that my place was so consistently reaffirmed. Not to mention, I didn’t want to cause any issues. Not on one of their holidays.
The First Mother knows they’d taken enough of a burden just allowing me into their home.** They didn’t need me making another mess.
Once I was in place, Sunburst began to pass gifts out. He began, of course, with our youngest member. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he called with a big smile on his face as he shifted through a few of the smaller boxes. “I think I might have something for a little filly named Flurry Heart!”
The excited gasp and babble he drew from my over-lady made it nigh impossible not to laugh. I managed to shift one of my blankets up to hide my smile, lest Flurry think her favorite changeling was mocking her. Though, the way she waved her tiny hooves, eager to accept it nearly did me in.
Sunburst made a show of checking the tag, then grinned. “Yup! This is for Flurry from Aunt Twilight and Spike, all the way in Ponyville!” He floated the box over into her waiting hooves.
With a delighted squeal, Flurry tore at the wrapping as best she could. She took to it clumsily, no doubt a bit hampered by the fact that it was about half as big as she was, but she persisted in her valiant effort.
Though not without a subtle bit of help from daddy. I noticed a razor thin tendril of Shining’s magic slice through a few strategic places with deft precision to give her something to grip. Our eyes met, Shining waggled his ears and shot me a wink.
Once Flurry had freed her gift from its wrapping, she enlisted her mother’s help to pry open the box. She reached inside. With a gasp, she withdrew her hoof and pulled out a yellow unicorn doll with tiny blue beads for eyes and a teal mane. Flurry squealed and hugged it tight, snuggling it for all she was worth as she rubbed its cheek against hers. From its left hind hoof, a card dangled bearing a name written in neat script:
Party Pants.
Cadence nuzzled her daughter’s mane. “What a nice dolly, isn’t she, Flurry? Do you like Auntie Twilight and Spike’s gift?”
Flurry’s only response was to snuggle Party Pants tighter and croon something in her baby talk which I took to mean “yes, I love it and I love them for giving it to me.” My over-lady was very expressive with her babbling.
“We’ll have to send her a thank you card,” Shining said, chuckling. “Party Pants is definitely a hit.”
“Agreed.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a box float over to me. I turned to fix it with a quizzical stare, then turned my gaze upon Sunburst.
He simply smiled. “That one’s from me. Happy Hearth’s Warming, Thorax.”
I blinked twice, unsure of how to reply save for a rather lame “Thank you, Sunburst.” Curious, I sliced through the wrapping with my fangs (far more efficient than hooves or flinging spells around) until Sunburst’s gift yielded its bearing to me.
I popped open the top of a cardboard box and found myself met with an orange crystal which had the image of a flame emblazoned upon it. I tilted my head, carefully lifting it out of the box. “What is it?”
Sunburst rubbed the back of his head. “It’s a Warming Crystal. They’re a rather rare type of crystal sold in some of the shops on Kunzite Street near the park. All you have to do is channel a little bit of magic into it, and it’ll head right up and keep you warm. Thought it might help for the rest of the season.”
My earfins perked up. I eyed the piece of crystal and focused my magic, sending a tendril of green aura into the shard. Sure enough, I felt warmth begin to emit as if a miniature campfire were contained within. I grinned and slipped it into my blanket cocoon to aid in my ongoing battle against the Winter Spirits and my illness. “Thank you, Sunburst. I will get quite a bit of use out of this.”
We all shared a laugh together after that. Hindsight is wonderful in that way—it turned a thing that had me in dire trouble with my hosts into something we could all look back upon and laugh.
The present opening continued. Shining Armor greatly enjoyed the stack of first edition comic books—whatever those are—from Twilight and Spike (they do things in pairs, apparently), though nowhere near as much as he loved the portrait to Brigadier Shining Valor, his namesake, which Cadence and his parents worked in tandem to find. I was uncertain who Shining Valor was, but I gleaned he was a brilliant military mind from the excited, rapid-fire babble Shining and Cadence shared.
We changelings do love a good tale, so I resolved myself to ask his later. A pony of such high stature should have one worth listening to. Flawless logic, if I say so myself.
Cadence, on the other hoof, absolutely loved the wonderful sapphire necklace Shining purchased for her. Flurry approved as well, mostly because she so loved the way it sparkled in the light. She did not, however, love the price Shining gave when she asked how much it cost, to which he simply grinned and replied, “You’re my wife, I can spoil you with my money all I want. Deal with it.”
The Look she shot him was somewhat familiar to me—it spoke of retribution at a later time, but in a way I am not sure I feel comfortable explaining to you, Small Pony Book. You may be far too young for that sort of thing. In fact, I confess that I felt a might fidgety when I noticed the smoldering Look she aimed his way.
Averting my gaze to Sunburst as he opened a rather thick book called Chasing Star Swirl’s Shadow: Exploring the Trials and Tribulations of the Lone Time Wizard seemed like a welcome distraction. And the way his face lit up was well worth it. If not for Cadence’s gentle reminder, he might have dashed off to write a letter to Starlight thanking her without so much as looking at the rest.
Next came gifts from the Eternal Sisters, Princesses Celestia and Luna. The Sister of Day saw fit to gift her favored grandniece with an creamy pink blanket that felt as soft as clouds and was charmed to keep her warm even on the coldest nights. I tested it myself by rubbing my cheek against it, and confirmed what Flurry Heart and Party Pants already knew as they snuggled with their new “bankie.”
Not to be outdone by her senior, the Sister of Night had fashioned an lovely silver mobile. A crescent moon served as the centerpiece, with shooting stars and constellations hanging from each arm. A note from the Princess of Night herself told us that the mobile was enchanted to change its displays with the season and play soothing melodies that would help ward off nightmares.
In my opinion, the younger of the Eternal Sisters had won based on the splendor of her gift, but then I had to consider how the elder found such perfect fabric for Flurry’s new blanket. I ended up declaring it a tie, as there was simply too much love in their gifts.
I should know. I could taste it radiating from them all.
My hosts surprised Sunburst and I with a pair of gifts. He received a new crystal lens telescope he had been eying in the shop windows for the past several months, as well as—to my amusement—a pink umbrella hat.
“We figured you might like something to protect you from Flurry’s oatmeal showers,” Cadence explained with a sly grin, “since you’re not quite as fast with shield spells as Shining and me.”
The look on his face had me laughing for quite some time afterward. Right up until my cough came back.
As I looked at the present in my hooves, I found myself feeling a bit uncomfortable. It was like this strange creature were nibbling on my insides, I felt the urge to squirm in place.
It grew worse as I unwrapped the first package and discovered that Cadence and Shining saw fit to get me a full set of winter clothing, including a teal scarf with my name stitched into the end and a set of boots. The second present, however, was a curious little thing—a yellow rubber duck roughly the size of my hoof.
“Something you can chew on, since you won’t stop testing things to see if they’re edible,” Shining said, his eyes dancing with humor. “Figured it might entertain you a little.”
An odd mix of curiosity and guilt settled into my chest. I leaned down to take the rubber duck in my mouth and, after a moment of eying my hosts, bit down on it.
Squeak!
I dropped it in shock, my ears perked up at the sound. I took it in hoof and squeezed it, prompting another shrill squeak from somewhere in its yellow belly. It was responsive! A grin tugged at my lips. I thanked them profusely and placed it beside my winter clothes. There would be plenty of time to play bite the squeaky duck toy later. Perhaps I could coax Flurry into throwing it to simulate a chase …
The strange feeling came back in force. They had each gone out to get me something nice. Yet as they continued passing out gifts, that urge to squirm and avoid their gaze grew stronger. I felt guilty. Each of them had found me something, yet I had nothing for them.
The four before me, along with Spike, Twilight, and Starlight, were the ones I held dearest, but I had not gone and found anything to show my affection as they had.
Then Sunburst floated a small box wrapped in purple paper with a green bow. The nibbly feeling spread throughout my stomach, even into my chest. I knew who it was from before Sunburst read the card. “To Thorax,” he read aloud, “from Spike, Twilight, and Starlight.”
All three of them? I thought morosely. That made six. Six friends who had found gifts to show their affection for me, who would all receive nothing in return to show mine for them.
Guilt, I found, was not an emotion I wanted to familiarize myself with. There was no guilt in the hive, Small Pony Book. We were taught to take what we wished from ponies, for they were but food or entertainment, or we did as the Queen commanded.
My first run-in with guilt, though, did lead to me gaining friends. How could I not upon seeing their bonds that day? And my second led me to save my first friend from a most untimely demise in my old cave.
Still, I did not like guilt. I very much wished to disassociate myself from it as I sliced through the wrapping paper of the large box, then repeated the process to get through the tape.
A small green book with the title Equestria Through the Ages: Stories From the Three Tribes to the Crystal Return written in shimmering gold script. A small notecard rested atop the cover, along with a short message:
Dear Thorax,
Cadence and Shining mentioned that you’ve been asking a lot of questions about pony culture as you try to get acclimated to living with them. This book isn’t nearly a comprehensive guide on the ins and outs, but a lot of what we place value in comes from our history, as is true with any race. Starlight and I felt this might help you quite a lot, especially if you enjoy a good story.
I hope you have a wonderful Hearth’s Warming. It’s a pleasure to call you my friend.
Sincerely,
Twilight Sparkle
P.S. If you ever want to visit, have Shining send a letter. Spike would love to see you again, and so would I.
P.P.S. Spike made the frame himself, with a bit of help from another friend of mine.
Frame? I tilted my head. What ever could she be talking about? I lifted the book up to show off to my hosts and relayed the content of Twilight’s note, which brought a bright smile to their faces.
“That’s actually a great idea,” Shining praised. “You’d probably like some of Clover’s stories—especially the ones where she and Commander Hurricane have to work together.”
Cadence nodded. “She did love her tricks, and Hurricane was always there to back her up if words failed.” She paused a moment to catch Flurry before she flew off with Party Pants and her new blanket, then added, “Perhaps we could all read it together sometime.”
Yes, together. That would be nice. I could use that as a means to convey my affection, since I had failed so miserably in my part in the Hearth’s Warming present exchange tradition. An excellent plan, wouldn’t you agree, Small Pony Book?
I set the book aside for a moment so that I could retrieve Spike’s gift. I found myself met with a curious sight: a rectangular object wrapped in brown paper, along with yet another notecard. My heart leapt into my throat, I couldn’t help but give my wings an excited buzz. It was a message from Spike.
Dear Thorax,
Happy Hearth’s Warming! I hope your first time celebrating is going well. Er, as well as it can given that you’ve been sick, anyway. Maybe next time listen to Cadence and Shining when they tell you to change rooms, eh? Holidays are decidedly less fun when you’re too sick to enjoy them, especially Hearth’s Warming. That said, maybe next year you can visit us so we can hang out again. Or maybe we can come up. Or go to Canterlot. Or … something.
Stop grinning, I’m not good at this.
I made no such attempt to hide the grin that spread across my face. “No,” I said, “you are not, but neither am I. But I won’t stop grinning anyway.”
Friends or not, I am a changeling. Deception, trickery, and teasing are part of who I am and always will be—it’s just a matter of how I choose to apply it. Silly faces, for example, are a wonderful way to tease Flurry and entertain her at the same time. Especially if I make “dada” look a bit silly.
In any case, I continued reading.
Anyway, I talked to Rarity and she helped me decorate a frame for this thing. Thought you might like a copy of it too. Who knows? Maybe when I finally hit my growth spurt (one day, I will look down upon Rainbow Dash and ask her how the weather is down there) and you … uh … hit yours (or are you already at full height? That sounds like a question Twilight would ask, but I honestly don’t know) we can look back and remember the days when we were smaller.
Best wishes and Happy Hearth’s Warming again!
Spike
That cursed guilty feeling began to chew on my insides again, I could almost feel actual teeth. Painful, yet cold, just like the Winter Spirits’ embrace.
Almost automatically, I opted to employ my fangs to slice the twine that bound the paper around his gift. Spike claimed that he and Rarity (another friend, perhaps) had made the frame of whatever this was, so it was best to leave hooves out of the equation.
Hooves did not do well with tiny knots. Had I not worried that my illness might make shapeshifting a bit dodgy, I might have tried shifting into a copy of Spike himself to use his claws. Fortunately, he had not used tape to seal the edges of the paper. So it came apart with a simple brush of my left hoof across its face.
The paper split to reveal a picture. My heart leapt again, I knew the scene quite well. Spike and I were standing shoulder-to-headfin (he is quite a bit shorter than me), each wearing bright smiles on our faces. The shimmering posts and archways of the Imperial Railway served as the backdrop for a rather heartfelt goodbye. I could almost feel his shoulder against my thigh as he leaned against me in one of those “cool” poses.
A little voice in the back of my head reminded me to check the frame. After all, he made it himself.
The frame was wooden, as most ponies so loved to fashion their things, and painted a green like fresh cocoon slime. Or, perhaps, Spike’s fins. Or even both.
There was a little mini-me constructed with black and sky blue art paper pasted to the top-right corner. The tiny Thorax wore a little smile, his wings were frozen in mid buzz. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that Spike had even taken the time to give him proper dorsal fins as well as punch perfect holes in his hooves. It was a real (almost) miniature changeling.
A miniature Spike made of the same sort of paper, though green and a light purple, stood on the other side of the frame. My friend’s tiny doppelgänger wore the same smile as mine, and raised his clawed paw up to wave at me.
I sat staring at the picture and frame for several minutes. It was so simple, but there was just so much in it. We were both happy, even though we parted that day. I could still feel and taste the love he offered me, the sweet, fluffy taste of friendship. The same I tasted whenever Cadence, Shining, or Sunburst offered me a meal.
And I had gotten him nothing to show that his feelings were shared. My heart sank in time with my drooping ears. Did that make me a bad friend? Would he feel saddened that his friend hadn’t bothered to send him even the tiniest trinket to show affection?
My face betrayed my emotions yet again. A gentle hoof touched my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Thorax?” Shining asked softly. “Is something bothering you?”
I swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and a little bit of slime. My glands were overproducing thanks to my cold, which did not make for a fun mess for the palace staff to clean when my coughing and sneezing turned violent. A not so small part of me wanted to say that yes, there was something horribly wrong. I had failed as a friend to participate in the present exchange with all of those I held dearest.
Instead, I forced myself to shake my head. “No,” I said, letting my eyes wander over the picture once again. The bright smile Spike wore that day was infectious, even this morning. “I love it.”
I mentally added Spike’s name to the list of friends I had to find presents for, along with Twilight and Starlight. Maybe, just maybe, I could write him a letter explaining my folly and convey my promise to make it up to him.
Until then, I could only clutch his present in my hooves and smile while I thought about Twilight’s offer. Spending time with my first friend again would be wonderful.
*Hello, Small Pony Book. Shining Armor here. About that whole “not doing anything too silly” thing. Hahaha—no. This goofball tried to prance down the stairs and nearly took a tumble down a flight. Fortunately, Cadence caught him and floated him the rest of the way down. Your owner didn’t withhold his excitement any more than my daughter withholds her want to shower everypony with oatmeal. That aside, I’m glad he enjoyed today. He needed a little reminder of where he stood with all of us. Happy Hearth’s Warming, Small Pony Book. And you as well when you read this, Thorax.
**A welcome guest is not a burden. Least of all, one who regularly helps with Flurry and is relatively well-behaved. Refusal to relocate to a nicer room until he was sick as a dog notwithstanding. No, you’re not living that down.
***Also, Spike’s birthday is in two months and he happens to love gems. We have a surplus of those here. I’m sure you can figure out something to do with that information. Cadence and I are available to help if you need any, so feel free to ask. If it makes you feel better, yes, that is an order—ask for help if you need it, and you shall receive.
As I write this, you’re on the couch entertaining Flurry with your silly faces, so I decided to let you slide on our usual review discussion today. However, I wanted to take a chance to apologize. Cadence and I completely neglected to let you know about the present exchange portion of Hearth’s Warming, and neither of us imagined that you would ever feel so upset at having not gotten Spike a present. We’ve sent Starlight, Twilight, and he a letter explaining our mistake. If you’d like, we can make time to find something for them once you’re feeling better. Not your fault at all.
These first few months with you around have been a pleasure, buddy. Here’s to the next year ahead of us.
Shining Armor.
P.S. Make me look too silly when you do those silly faces and you’ll find out why Spike and Twily quiver when ponies mention water balloons.