//------------------------------//
// Temporary Home 
// Story: Something To Be 
// by Tealove 
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	My story is not one told in nostalgic reminiscing, something proud parents tell their friends, siblings share in fond memories. My story is one most would like to forget. Sometimes I would like to forget it myself. But to know where I started in this world, what I've had to go through and what I have become because of it? I would be foolish to long for another path and forfeit all the knowledge I have gained. For once I was a small filly, just a foal nopony thought about or looked twice at. I was simple, I was plain, and I was meek. But I was not stupid. No, I was much more intelligent than anypony harvesting rocks for a living had the right to be. It was my secret pride and it became the one thing that set me apart from the rest of my family.
Mother and Father were simple-minded ponies whose sole purpose in life was to keep their children busy at all times and therefore out of their manes. My sisters and I were not born out of love but necessity. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, meaning it was convenient for my grandmare on my mother's side to find a husband for her eldest daughter at such a late stage in her life and a fairly well-to-do one at that. They were married for three years before Pinkie was born, their pretty little miracle child born to a womb that was supposedly barren. Blinkie and I came soon after and then her womb was closed by the hand of the Creator for good. They loved Pinkie. She was colorful, full of life, and was always making us smile. Blinkie and I... well we simply weren't as important. At least not until Pinkie left to find a new life in Ponyville.
That day changed my life forever, and not because it was the last day for many years in which I would find myself in the same room with both my sisters. Because it was the day my family fell apart at the seams. Maybe Pinkie didn't know the affect she had on the rest of us, that she was the proverbial glue holding us all together. Maybe she simply didn't care. Maybe she recognized the necessity of leaving before all that was left of her illuminating spirit was crushed under the weight of pretending everything was always perfectly fine. She was smart to get out when she did. A pony whose special talent was throwing parties? On a remote rock farm miles away from anypony else? It did not take a genius to know she would not thrive there. So I watched her leave with tears in my eyes. And silently vowed to follow in her hoofprints.
I packed my saddlebags that night and prepared myself to slip out as soon as I could be sure my parents were asleep. No memory is as clear to me as that of the soft touch of my sister's hoof to my side as I stood by the door to the room we shared. She was crying before I even had a chance to speak.
“Please don't cry,” I whispered as we held each other close. 
“Where are you going, Inkie?”
“I don't know.” It was a terrifying confession but it was the truth. I had no plan but to get as far from this place as possible. My blind faith that everything would work out the way it was meant to was disillusioned at best, but it was all I had. “Come with me.”
Blinkie pulled away from me with wide eyes. “I can't go with you!”
“And I can't stay here.” I wondered if Pinkie felt like this when she left. Part of me hoped so. Though I definitely understood her reasons for going I was still very hurt and upset with her, and I would be for a long time.
“You're going to leave me just like Pinkie did? What am I supposed to do here by myself?”
I smiled softly and pushed her gray mane from her face. “Realize that this is no life for anypony. It's just a way to pass the time.” I embraced her one last time, cracked the door to hear nothing but silence, and left the rock farm and the parents that I would never see again.
It was a three mile walk from our farm to the nearest town and I had no idea where Pinkie might have gone from there. Ponyville was a place I'd heard of a few times before but for some reason the name itself turned me off to it. Ponyville. It painted pictures in my young mind of thatched roofs, everypony knowing everypony else, subsequently knowing their business as well, and made me feel claustrophobic. I longed for a place that would not be as stifling as the home I'd just left. With a sad little sigh I looked up to the cold clear moon above me as though it could direct me where to go. And I saw Canterlot silhouetted against the dark sky. 
The royal city seemed to glow against its dark backdrop, golden roofs reflecting the moonlight, far away windows lit with candles and lanterns, and I swear as I stood there, holding my breath, I could almost hear the wafting sound of music on the breeze. Suddenly my pulse was racing and I knew, surely as I knew breath was necessary to life, that Canterlot was where I was meant to be. Though the journey would take me all night I started onward and let my mind wander into fantasies about how wonderful my life was going to be.
I'd always had a longing for the finer things in life; every once in awhile when Granny Pie came to visit she'd bring treats for the three of us and mine were always colorful magazines of rich and famous ponies. Blinkie liked looking at them too, but she was more interested in the pictures themselves than the subject matter. But I'd see tall handsome stallions with chests thrust forward and chins lifted proudly, thin beautiful mares with jewels at their throats and manes perfectly styled, and I'd wish with everything in my little body to be a part of their world. I wanted ponies taking my picture, interviewing me about my fabulous life and waiting hours on end just for a chance to catch my eye as I left some fancy dinner party. I never dreamed of what it would take to get me there.
It was on the steep road up the mountain that I met the first pony that had a hoof in my story. I heard the carriage coming long before I could see it, the sound bouncing off the sheer rock walls until it eventually faded and disappeared. In fear I hid, though I did a rather poor job of it and wasn't aware that my tail was left draped across part of the pathway. I buried my face in my hooves and held my breath as the carriage drew closer, terrible visions of ponies with fangs and mouths dripping blood swimming through my brain. When the carriage stopped I nearly wet myself in fear.
“Hello?”
They knew I was there! I was going to be found, eaten alive, and nopony would ever know what became of me. I would just be another face on a milk carton until so many years had passed. Then I would just be a memory.
“Um, excuse me. Hello there. I need to get by and didn't want to run over your tail.”
The female voice sounded friendly enough but I still couldn't make myself move. Even with my eyes closed I could tell when she stood over me because everything suddenly felt darker. “Please go away,” I managed in a whining whisper.
“I'd like to,” the mare said patiently, “but like I said, your tail is in the way. I suppose I could just roll over it if you really want me to.”
“No thank you!” I pulled my tail in and heard her gasp.
“You're just a filly! What are you doing out here all alone?”
“I'm not alone,” I lied, finally gathering up enough courage to look up at her. She was an  absolutely lovely unicorn with a pale lavender coat and a short wavy mane and tail of a darker lavender and light blue. Her blue eyes looked down at me kindly but I shuddered and squeaked, “Please don't eat me.”
She laughed quietly, her expression soft and full of pity. “I'm not going to eat you, silly girl.” She lifted her head to look around. “Where are your parents?”
“Dead.” The lie came quicker this time and somehow sounded more real than the one before. 
“Oh, you poor thing. What happened? Where are they?”
My mind raced, searching for something plausible, something tragic I'd read in a book before that may work for me. “Dragons. They raided our home. I got away because I was so small. They didn't even see me.”
“Well you can't stay out here all alone. Come on. I'm headed up to Canterlot. You can come with me and we'll figure out what to do from there.”
I crept out from my hiding place to get a better look at the unicorn. She wasn't any taller than my mother but somehow the fact that she was unfamiliar made her seem so much bigger. My eyes trailed to her cutie mark – three musical notes – then to her cart. It was almost as beautiful as she was with dark stained wood and ornate gilded golden etchings along the sides and the harness. “You're going to Canterlot?” I repeated in wonder, my eyes following the path of the swirling ornate gold.
“That's right. I have a delivery to make.”
My head swiveled back to look up at her. “What are you delivering?”
“Do you want to take a peek and find out for yourself?”
I couldn't help but smile, my curiosity quickly overshadowing any fear I had of this stranger. On stumpy legs I hurried over to the cart and rested my front hooves on the very back. Everything was carefully hidden beneath a heavy covering. I looked to the mare. “I can't see it.”
She unhitched herself from the harness and joined me. Very carefully she gripped a corner of the cover and pulled it back. I gasped. Laid very strategically were instruments of the likes I'd never seen before. They were all wooden and stringed, silver and gold, polished to shine the moon's reflected light right back up to the sky. When the mare lowered her head and scooped me up and set me on her withers I couldn't even think about complaining or protesting. I was too entranced. “What are they?” I breathed, my hoof reaching out to glide gently over the nearest instrument.
“Mostly woodwinds,” she told me, “with a few stringed pieces. My father hoofmakes them and I deliver them to the buyers. That one you have your hoof on right now is called a cello.”
“It's beautiful.” It was three times my size but it was instantly my favorite. “Do you play them? Is that why you have music for your cutie mark?”
She laughed a melodious little giggle. “No. My father wishes I played. I prefer to sing the music rather than play it.”
“You're a singer?” Here I was on my way to Canterlot to meet rich and famous ponies and one just happened to find me before I even had a chance to get to the city! “What's your name?”
“High Note. What's yours?” I hesitated and looked down, but she shrugged her withers to get me to look at her. “You don't have to tell me until you're ready, but I have to call you something.” She tilted her head in thought, then smiled at me. “How about...Octave?”
“Octave,” I repeated. “What is that?”
“It's the interval between one musical pitch and another.” I blinked at her blankly and she giggled again. “Like this.” She sang a sweet “Laaaa” out into the night, then stopped and sang the same thing but in a higher key. “I went up an octave from the original note.”
“I think I get it.” I smiled and nodded confirmation. “I like Octave.”
“Then let's get going, Octave. We still have a long way to go before we can rest.”
Before I knew what was happening I felt a warmth spread over my entire body and I was lifted into the air. Terrified, I looked at the pale blue aura of magic around my body. Nopony had ever used magic on me before! I always wondered what it felt like, if it tingled or hurt at all. As I was set down in the front of the cart right next to the cello the magic disappeared and I found myself feeling a little colder. Hurrying, I propped my front hooves up on the edge of the cart to watch High Note use her magic again to get herself back in her harness, and just like that we were heading up the mountain.
Little else remains in my memory of that night, but I will never forget that feeling of magic surrounding my body, nor will I forget the way High Note sang as we walked the long road up the mountain. Like everything else about her it was soft, comforting, and made me feel at ease. So much so that I fell asleep shortly after she began singing and did not wake again until the next morning. I do remember the way the scent of musty hay invaded my rest and made it impossible for me to sleep any longer. 
It was a shock to open my eyes and find myself in a little cot, a blanket draped across my body. A quick look around showed me a bed that had been slept in and left unmade, a stout wardrobe in the corner, and a weathered old chest under the window. I hardly had to move at all to send dust flying into the air. Wind blew the drapes and I watched, almost transfixed, as the tiny specs of dust danced in and out of the rays of sun filtering inside. It was then that the sounds began to register. Hooves traveled over cobbled streets, carts giving off telling creaks as they were pulled, chatter that was soft and indistinguishable all came to me through the singular open window. Throwing back my blanket I put my hooves to the floor and walked to the old chest. I managed to climb on top of it somehow and peered out the window to find I was certainly not on the side of the mountain or on the rock farm anymore.
On the street far down below were the most well dressed ponies I could have ever dreamed of seeing. Mares in beautiful gowns and hats with brightly colored plumage, stallions in suit jackets dutifully carrying the bags of said mares at their sides. Merchants pushed wares from behind cluttered counters and not a single pony had one hair out of place. I was in Canterlot! Unable to help myself, I jumped to the floor and danced to music only I could hear. What would my sisters think if they knew?
The door to the room opened and I froze, but High Note just giggled at me. “I was wondering if you were up or not. Guess that answers my question.”
Giddy, I spun in a pirouette on one hoof, my eyes closed and a smile on my face. “I'm in Canterlot!” I exclaimed. “It's better than I imagined it!”
“Octave, you haven't even seen Canterlot.”
My spinning stopped and I eyed her. “You mean we're not in Canterlot?”
“No, no.” High Note shook her head and came further into the room with a smile. “We are, but all you've seen is right outside your window. There is so much more to Canterlot than this one street. This is nothing compared to the market square and the palace.”
I don't think my eyes could have gotten any wider. “You've been to the palace?!”
She nodded proudly. “Princess Celestia has only the finest musicians in her employ and the finest musicians need the finest instruments. I've even had the honor of singing for her a couple of times.”
My heart felt like it was going to burst, like I was living through High Note vicariously. “Can I meet the princess, too?”
High Note's smile fell slightly. “I'm not delivering to the palace this trip. Besides, we have to figure out what to do with you.”
A trickle of panic crept up my spine. “What do you mean? Can't I stay here with you?”
She sat down in front of me and shook her head sadly. “I don't live here, Octave. My home is in Trottingham. This is just a hotel room.”
“But I want to stay here, in Canterlot.” The thin trickle of panic was threatening to become a flood. This mare had been kind to me when she didn't have to be and there was a big part of me that didn't want to be parted from her. But there was a bigger part of me that knew my destiny was in the royal city. 
“How about we go get some breakfast, then you help me with my delivery? The stallion who owns the instrument shop here is pretty well connected. If anypony knows what to do about anything, it's him.”
It wasn't really an offer I had to think about. I was so excited to get out and see the royal city that High Note could have promised me anything and I would have followed her out of that room.
Everything I ever imagined about Canterlot fell short in comparison to what I saw that morning. Everypony was so well spoken and elegant; I even noticed the way High Note seemed to walk a little taller here. It made the rock farm from which I'd come seem like it was another universe away. As we wove ourselves through the labyrinthine streets I often lagged behind, enticed and entranced by some sight or another, and had to hurry along so as not to lose sight of High Note. She was always patient and kind, never losing the warm smile that turned up the edges of her lips. When we were finally seated  outside one of Canterlot's many dining establishments I was treated to a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and a tall glass of cold milk. 
Every now and then a pony would stop to say hello to High Note and I would sit there, dumbly staring in awe. She appeared to be a bit more well known here than the let on but she never seemed affected by the attention. She was gracious and friendly to everypony who greeted her, and never hesitated in introducing me. I was Octave, soon to be apprentice to Melomane. I had no idea what an apprentice was or who this Melomane character happened to be but I nodded and smiled when attention turned my way. High Note beamed at me and I found her look of praise was worth more than the answers to my questions. I was already forming an attachment to her, and how could I not? In the handful of hours I had known this mare she'd already shown me more affection than my own parents had in the few years I'd been alive. Without reason I trusted her above any other and somehow knew she'd never put me in harms way or to anything to intentionally endanger me.
After breakfast we went back for her cart of instruments, then headed deeper into the city. She drew upon the closed door of a shop and turned to look down at me. “Melomane can be a bit much to anypony who doesn't know him. He can be a little intimidating at first.” I just blinked and watched as she raised a hoof to knock on the door.
“Qui est-ce?” barked a gravely voice from inside.
“It's High Note.”
“We are not open yet!”
I recoiled slightly, put off by the gruff, angry tone and the thick accent I couldn't place. But High Note only shook her head and gave a thin, patient smile to the closed door. “Melomane, it's me. From Trottingham? You ordered some instruments from my father last month, remember?”
There was a crash from inside that sent me skittering around to hide behind High Note's front legs, then heavy hooves coming closer to the door before there was the click of a lock, and the door swung inward. There stood a bright orange stallion with a lighter orange mane and tail, and a permanent frown on his face. High Note simply smiled in greeting. “Good morning.”
“I expected those instruments a week ago!” bellowed the stallion. “You should have been here a week ago!”
High Note was nonplussed. “Your invoice should say the delivery date is set for today.”
“Fraudeuse,” Melomane muttered and he turned to look inside. “Glissando! Find me that invoice.” He turned to head back inside but not before instructing High Note to leave the cart there and follow him. She unhitched the wagon, then pushed me forward with a gentle nudge of her muzzle. I swallowed hard and entered with her right behind me.
The inside of the shop was a lot bigger than the outside let on. On every wall there were instruments displayed, some familiar, most not familiar at all. I was fascinated. I wanted to know the names of each and every one of them, what they sounded like and how they were played. “What is this?” The question broke the spell and I whipped my head around to see Melomane glaring down at me from behind a counter with a register on it. “You bring me another gosse?”
“She's not an urchin, Melomane. This is Octave.”
“Octave,” repeated Melomane, a trace of humor in his otherwise abrasive tone. “Octave.” All humor gone, he spat on the floor and I jumped back. “The first one you bring me is already no good! Glissando! Invoice! De suite!”
“Chill out old man!” From a door to the side of the counter came a white unicorn filly, just a little bigger than me. Her mane and tail were a mix of cyan and cobalt blue, and stuck out at odd angles. She carried a slip of paper between her teeth and set it on the counter before Melomane. When she saw High Note her magenta eyes widened and she beamed. “High Note!”
The filly rounded the counter as High Note stepped past me to bend down and accept a hug from the unicorn. “How are you?” High Note asked.
“Awesome now that you're here!”
“Awesome?”
The filly turned around to look at Melomane. “Yeah, awesome! Like...really good! Fantastic! Couldn't be better.” Looking at High Note again she added, “Such a geezer,” under her breath.
High Note giggled and straightened to look at Melomane. “Is the written date today or was I mistaken?” The grumpy stallion made a sound in the back of his throat and waved her off, pushing the invoice aside. With a complacent smile, High Note returned her attention to the filly. “Oh, Glissando, I'd like you to meet Octave. Octave, this is Glissando.”
The filly looked me over with her ruby eyes, then grinned at me and stuck out a hoof. “Nice to meet you.” I offered my hoof in return and nodded mutely. It made the unicorn look up at High Note. “Does she talk?”
“Occasionally,” High Note teased. “How would you feel about having somepony else around to help share the load?”
“No!” exclaimed Melomane. “No, no, no! This one, she already eats me out of house and home!”
“I'm a growing filly!”
“You are a good for nothing flemmard!”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you are good for nothing!”
“Then say I'm good for nothing! Speak English! The boat to your homeland sailed away long ago. Conform already!”
I watched the exchange with my mouth half open. Never before had I seen a filly, even a slightly older filly as Glissando appeared to be, speak to an adult like that. High Note, on the other hand, couldn't stop giggling.
“I'm going to start bringing the instruments in, Melomane. Do you want them out back as usual?”
“Yes, I must check them all over!”
“Look for imperfections all you want. You've never found any before and you won't find any now.”
“Just wait one minute...”
Melomane followed High Note back outside, leaving me there with the back-talking filly. The way she grinned at me was kind of unnerving. “Come on, I'll show you our room.”
“Our...room?”
Glissando gasped. “She does talk!”
“I talk,” I defended meekly. “But only when I have something to say, not just because I like the sound of my own voice.”
She narrowed her eyes at me and leaned forward slightly, causing me to flinch back. “Was that just a smart retort you threw my way?” I blinked, my heart racing. What was this wild creature going to do to me now, when no adults were in the room? Still, I felt like I needed to stand my ground. So I gave a nod so small it would have been easily missed, had I not been under such a scrutinizing gaze. I clenched my eyes shut, waiting for the attack. The sound of her chuckling was not what I expected, and I opened my eyes slowly. “I like you. What's your real name?”
“Octave,” I said without hesitation.
“So we're going to play that game, huh? Okay, fine. You be Octave and I'll be Glissando. You wanna come see our room, or not?” Without waiting for my reply she turned and headed back through the door through which she'd appeared. I stood there a moment, weighing my options. Go outside with scary Melomane, stay here alone, or follow Glissando? Hurrying, I ran to catch up to the unicorn filly.