//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Vote of Confidence // Story: Roam-Springa // by Pascoite //------------------------------// I removed my glasses and wiped a smudge off them while the young mare continued scribbling her notes. “Thankfully, that little stunt didn’t ruin our friendship,” I said. “I had no idea what I was doing, and I’d made a very foolhardy move, considering Cup Cake served not only as my boss, but also my landlady and only friend.” Even the young mare—it felt so impersonal to keep thinking of her that way. That same envelope I’d fidgeted with through the whole tale still danced over my hooves, so I glanced at the return address. No name, just the street number. She must have signed the letter, but I couldn’t recall what it said. Even she’d blushed at my antics. One of the graces of growing up is that we can laugh at our ill-advised exploits, though. “Cup Cake had of course assisted Buttercup in sneaking around to meet Bright Mac as much as possible.” With a sly grin, I added, “And I played no small part myself. It finally gave me the chance to befriend Buttercup and learn why Cup Cake held her in such high esteem. We quickly became as thick as thieves, as the expression goes.” The mare silently chuckled as she paused to file her pencil to a sharper point. “You can see the problem already, I presume?” I asked. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t lose her smile either. “‘Try new things’ had become my mantra, and I did explore what life had to offer, quite faithfully, but I’d gotten oddly fixated on the romance side of things. That would come and go, but—” I let out a sigh. “Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. Oh—can I offer you something to drink?” She shook her head. But I caught myself looking toward the door anyway. Noise echoing in from all the customers. This had been a storage room back then, but now a lounge for the family. Directly above me, the bedroom Cup Cake and I used to share, now my daughter Pinkie’s. Sugarcube Corner would never fail to make me smile, and if I could wedge in a visit with Pinkie in order to meet this young mare and indulge her request for an interview, so much the better. This place would never change. “Given time,” I continued, “my embarrassment faded, and Cup Cake and I resumed our friendship as if I had never made that blunder. With her naturally affable personality—” over the rest of the noise, that same round laugh rang out, and I couldn’t suppress a giggle of my own “—it took a grand total of two days for the awkwardness to pass.” With the mare’s pencil tip hovering above her page, her eyes glinted at my growing smile. “Then we only got into more mischief than ever.” Buttercup gave my shoulder a rough shove as the three of us ducked down behind a low brick wall near the bridge over the river. A fairly white brick at that, but I didn’t dwell on it too long. As the saying went, classification of clay minerals is best left to those with too much time on their hooves. “Why didn’t you tell me you helped bake that cake for me?” she said. “That was so sweet of you! And delicious, by the way.” “I have to credit Cup Cake for delicious. I had nothing to do with the recipe,” I replied. Cup Cake popped her head up to catch another glimpse of our quarry. Well, their quarry. I still had little stomach for trickery and subterfuge, but their exhortations of “It’s for a good cause!” eventually won me over. But surely they’d gone too far! Good ponies didn’t instigate needless hardship. Grand Pear shortly came trundling over the bridge with his wagon, and just past our hiding place, had to stop to wait for the cross-traffic to clear. Cup Cake darted around the end of the wall and to the back of his wagon. She tied a rope to the rear gate and the other end to the wagon beside his, then ducked down behind cover with us once more. Buying time was one thing, but taking pleasure in others’ misfortune? As planned, Grand Pear’s wagon and the other turned opposite ways at the intersection, and once the rope went taut: bam! Both rear gates swung open, leaving his cargo of pears to tumble into the roadway behind him and mix with the other’s load of— Apples. Only now did I see the green mare stalking over to inspect the carnage. Then she glanced at Grand Pear as if just noticing him. “You!” she spat. Oh dear. “Did you know she’d be the other one you got?” I hissed. Cup Cake vigorously shook her head, but a huge smile had sprouted across her face. Buttercup, too, giggling uncontrollably as the two ponies argued ever more loudly in the road. “Is it really wise to antagonize them? It’s only going to make your situation worse.” Cup Cake’s and Buttercup’s grins did diminish somewhat, like a wilting flower, but only until Cup Cake spoke up. “That should keep them busy for a while. Go on, now!” “Eeyup!” Buttercup answered with a salute, then she slipped under the bridge and dashed down the riverbank, out of sight of the road. And on into the Whitetail Woods, where Bright Mac no doubt awaited her. Still, it was kind of funny, I guessed. A “prank,” Buttercup had called it. Celestia forgive me for partaking in one, and if I ever had children, I’d make sure they knew not to engage in such a disrespectful endeavor. Funny, I’d never much considered having children, but now that the thought had bubbled up like a mineral spring, Igneous Rock came to mind. Then my face flashed cold as a giggle sounded behind me. And not from Cup Cake. “Who’d you get this time?” the newcomer said. Cup Cake turned around and cocked her head toward the road. “Pear ’n’ Apple.” “Too easy.” Then the two flung their arms around each other and laughed, leaving me to gape at them. “We had a reason. Now Buttercup will have a good half hour to see Bright Mac while their parents are tied up.” Cup Cake jabbed her with an elbow, but curiously, this other mare paled a bit. She knew something, but Cup Cake hadn’t noticed. Not that I dared to bring it up. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Cup Cake said. “This is Mayor Mare, only last year empowered to lead our fine town. Mayor, this is my friend and assistant, Cloudy Quartz.” The ice in my brain only intensified. “Mayor?” I said to Cup Cake. “And you’re just going to tell her what we’ve done?” Here barely a month, and now I’d already run afoul of law enforcement. “Relax,” Cup Cake said with a chuckle. “Mayor Mare’s done plenty of pranks with us before.” “You have?” I asked, and Mayor Mare replied with a nod and smile. “Do the other ponies in town know?” Instantly, both of them shook their heads. “No,” Mayor Mare said. “And that’s half the thrill. By the way, I’m glad to finally meet ‘the cute mare at the bakery’ everypony’s been talking about.” Ponies said that? I ducked my head. Good ponies should only have reputations for being good ponies. “You could have come over to buy something and see for yourself,” Cup Cake muttered. Mayor Mare only laughed. “Please. My hours are worse than yours.” “But you have time for pranks.” “A permanent entry in my schedule. If you want one of those played on you, I can pencil you in for next Thursday.” Cup Cake rolled her eyes, and they exchanged another hug. I couldn’t help staring—had I ever found myself in a weirder situation? Still, I had to admit, the thrill of it, doing something I really shouldn’t, had a bit of a compelling feeling to it, as long as I didn’t cross any lines, like when I’d kissed— Ugh. If Cup Cake really wanted to embarrass me, she only had to tell Mayor Mare of that incident. “Either way,” Mayor Mare continued, “it’s nice to meet you at long last, Cloudy Quartz. And you’re just as adorable as everypony says.” My face warmed terribly, and I diverted my gaze up to the road. A traffic jam had built up behind the blocked intersection, and only those wagons with two ponies pulling them could make it across the mud to cut the corner. And one of those single-pony wagons still waiting— I vaulted the wall and dashed up the embankment. “Carrot Cake!” I called. “Y-yes?” He blinked at me. “Oh, you’re the mare who works for Chiffon Swirl. I hope we didn’t upset you that one night.” “No, don’t worry yourself with it. Really.” Cup Cake had never asked, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t, unfortunately, though it had taken quite a while. I did help carry in some of the deliveries after that, but we never struck up a conversation. Mostly because he never took his eyes off Cup Cake. “I wondered if you needed help moving your wagon, though.” “Um… sure. Thank you for the offer,” he said, bowing slightly. Under his confused gaze, I clambered into his wagon so I could see all the way back down the slope. “Cup Cake!” I shouted, over the din of Grand Pear and the green mare’s argument. “Up here!” She glared back, presumably since I’d revealed her hiding place, but with Buttercup gone, I didn’t see how anypony would think her culpable. When she saw whose wagon I’d commandeered, she blushed a deep red. She did start on the way up, albeit very slowly. “Sh-she’d really help me?” And Carrot flashed what was now the goofiest grin I’d ever seen. “She was one year older than me, in the next class, but I was always so tall and gangly, yet… she’d say hello to me every day. The only one who would.” Rather like Igneous Rock, always kind and helpful to the children in the younger class. Anyway, I had a hunch. “And late-night baking deliveries aren’t very common for you, I would guess.” Like Father puffing on his pipe, Carrot Cake let out a gentle sigh. “For her. Only for her. She’s the sweetest mare you could ever hope to meet.” Cup Cake must have heard the last few words of that. Her glare melted into a playful smirk at me. “I hear you need a push,” she said quietly. For a moment, he merely stared through half-lidded eyes. Then he jolted up straight. “Y-yes! And s-since I’m heading into town anyway, w-would you mind if I walked you back to… to your… um…” I hopped down from his wagon, and his eyes snapped fully open again. “Bakery.” “Oh! Um, yes!” While Carrot wasn’t looking, Cup Cake flashed me a very toothy grin. “Thank you, that’s very considerate, Carrot. I’d like that.” I hadn’t known Cup Cake to leave her shop closed during normal business hours, but she’d hung a “back in 30 minutes” sign in the window to attend to our prank, and no doubt she’d stand about talking to Carrot even after she’d returned. I could have accompanied them, of course—I still had the rest of the workday—but something told me Cup Cake wouldn’t mind the delay. So off they strolled, and my good-bye wave went unnoticed. “You learn quickly,” Mayor Mare said as she walked up behind me. At first, I nodded, but then I turned on her, like the weathervane on our barn when the wind shifted. “How did you even know to come out here if you have so little spare time?” She tilted her nose skyward. “Traffic pegasus warned me we might have a back-up. Though I never thought Cup Cake would be behind it.” She added a smirk as she gave me a once-over. “Or you.” And that sinking feeling started anew. “A-am I in trouble?” Another full laugh, not as round as Cup Cake’s—more angular, like chiseled stone. “No.” She patted me on the shoulder, and I allowed my held breath to deflate. “Though it does mean you’re stuck walking back to town with me, since your co-conspirators seem to have other business. Shall we?” she said, extending a hoof along the road. So I started on our way. In silence at first, as Mayor Mare apparently had a week’s worth of agendas dancing around in her thoughts. I hated to interrupt her, but Cup Cake had encouraged me to be more social. Try new things, after all. It wouldn’t always fail. Good ponies believed in themselves. “Cup Cake said you just got into office last year. What did you do before that?” Curiously, her eyes went unfocused for a moment before she shook her head and gave me a wan smile. “Oh, this and that.” Then a wistful gaze at… her cutie mark? A scroll, not unusual for an administrator, or so I’d heard—she brought the total of mayors I’d met to one. But unrolled a trifle? I hadn’t heard of that. A little flowing script exposed as well, just a partial line: “rocky with promise, overgrown with heart.” What did that mean? But she noticed me reading, averted her gaze from me, and quickened her pace. I’d have to ask Cup Cake later. “So, um, I haven’t met many ponies from around the rock farms before. What brings you out here?” she asked. “Cup Cake hasn’t told you?” I trotted a little faster to catch up. Her mane bobbing with each step, she shook her head, and the slight frown faded. “I don’t see her that often. Maybe only once since you arrived, though I certainly wish we could get together more.” “Ah. Have you heard of the roam-springa?” Again, she shook her head. But as she turned her attention to me once more, I caught sight of the exquisite blue tone of her eyes. “We are to see what the world has to offer and decide whether we desire it more than returning home,” I said. “Interesting,” she answered, pursing her lips. “So how’s that working out for you?” “I-I don’t know.” Odd how she was barely older than I, yet she carried such an authoritative air. I could see how she’d easily command respect. Not intimidating, though. Igneous Rock was like that, too. He instilled confidence. “Not so well, I guess.” “Oh. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” she replied. I didn’t even know what I was doing. How could I answer that? “Just… I have to try new things. It gets a little overwhelming at times, though. Cup Cake helps.” More of that angular giggling followed. “Yes, she would. You’re in good hooves.” A gentle smile, and those captivating blue eyes. But she’d kept up the more rigorous pace, and now we’d drawn near to town hall. A shame—I’d only really gotten to know Cup Cake so far, and Buttercup somewhat. I seemed to get along with Mayor Mare, too. “Now, I know you’ve been working hard at it,” she started, “but sometimes ponies need a rest, too.” She squinted one eye at me and gathered my mane up in a ball. “You can let down the facade with me, if you need to.” Really? But Cup Cake—“It won’t make her mad,” she said as if reading my mind. “Then I thank thee for accompanying me back to town.” I gave her a small bow. Her smile grew even bigger, and she closed her eyes. If she had the time to spare, then why not? It’d give Cup Cake and Carrot longer to talk as well. “If thou shouldst wish to make thy way to yon Sugarcube Corner at any time, we would both be happy to see thee.” Quietly, she chuckled to herself. “Oh, everypony was right. You are adorable.” It was refreshing. She really enjoyed me as myself, at my most relaxed. Cup Cake did, too, I know, but she wanted to help me accomplish my goals so badly that she didn’t often let up. Strange as well that Igneous Rock saw things from quite the opposite direction. Here, Mayor Mare delighting in me at my most… formal? I didn’t see it that way, as it was my natural state, but Igneous Rock liked seeing the threads come undone, just a bit. My first day in grade school, Mother had taught me how to do my mane up in a bun, but I hadn’t mastered the skill yet, and before lunch, a few tresses had come unleashed. He’d eyed them with a smile. For years afterward, we’d play together when our chores permitted, and I’d undo my bun a little, for him. Only for him. And I told Mayor Mare all this. I’d never revealed it to anypony else, but those deep blue eyes, so disarming. Another mistake? Good ponies shouldn’t bare their innermost selves to strangers. Then I talked about trifles and nonsense and nothing at all for the next half an hour, if not more. I got what Cup Cake encouraged me to do, but for once, to feel like somepony appreciated me for me. No, that wasn’t fair to Cup Cake. She did appreciate me, but to let loose all the barriers to where I didn’t have to tend them like a garden— I could have talked for many more hours. Two things Mayor Mare had said yesterday stuck in my mind: that she didn’t get to visit her friends much, and that I needed a place of rest from all the newness. She’d already shown me that the latter could exist wherever she was, even in a bustling street in the middle of town. And to the former, I could bring friends to her. Me, in person, if I could call myself a friend yet, and a nice token from Cup Cake. Lunchtime, with most of the municipal staff on break. I’d strolled through deserted hallways with some pastries balanced on my back—I guess that made them desserted hallways? Th-the absurdity! Cup Cake was rubbing off on me far too much, but was it ever fun! In any case, I soon located the mayor’s office. The receptionist at the beginning of the maze of corridors assured me that she hadn’t left, so I knocked on the door. “Come in!” came a voice, muffled by the thick oak barrier. It was a little dim when I poked my head inside, but her face immediately lit up. “I thought that since you—” Ah, yes. I gave her a knowing grin. “That since thou canst not get to the bakery very often, I would surprise thee by bringing thee a treat.” Her soft chuckling echoed throughout the room, but she soon blushed. “I’m afraid I have to be very honest with you. I did want to give you the opportunity to relax from working on your speech and… whatever, but really. Do what you’re comfortable with at the moment. That’s all I want: for you to be comfortable. But I must confess—I find your accent and speech very charming. I might have had a teensy-weensy ulterior motive,” she said with an exaggerated grimace. Nothing new there. “I do not mind,” I responded, “but in truth, I find my own thoughts a bit jumbled lately. I can speak either way if I put my mind to it, but if I ‘let my hair down,’ as it were, things are a bit… mixed.” “Then mixed it is,” she said, beaming at me. She waved a hoof around the room. “This office is now a safe space, okay? Whatever slips out slips out, and we don’t worry about it.” “Agreed.” “Perfect!” Her eyes sparkling, she licked her lips. “Now, let’s see what goodies you’ve brought.” Over the age-worn floorboards I trod, each one emitting a pleasant creak. A taste of old amid the new, and one that very much put me in the mind of the farmhouse where I grew up. Each day coming home from school, waving back outside to Igneous Rock if he’d walked me home, then joining Mother in the kitchen to help her split rocks for soup. I caught myself staring out the window, and Mayor Mare raised an eyebrow at me, but I merely shook my head and sidled up to her desk to slide the tray off my back. “Blueberry tarts today. Three for each of us, but I found the tray difficult to balance, so I ate two before leaving the bakery. That leaves four—two for me and two for thee.” Her face fell, just a bit. “But that doesn’t—” Now unencumbered, I rapidly gathered my mane up in a bun. The look on her face! “Twas in jest! Cup Cake only gave me four! Doth that constitute a prank?” She leaned back in her chair and tapped her hooves together as I burst into laughter, appraising me as if seeing me for the first time again. But she soon joined me in my laughter. “There’s hope for you yet.” So she bit into her first tart, and I merely sat across the desk from her, watching. “Mmmm. These are good,” she said. “Go ahead, take one.” It still seemed awfully decadent to eat something so sweet. “No, thank you. You—thou canst—” She finished chewing and leaned forward. “Please. Relax. Whatever words feel like coming out, let them.” A long, deep breath. “Okay. You can have them.” “Seriously, I won’t be able to maintain my girlish figure if Cup Cake keeps sending over dessert for two and you keep making me eat it all,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Grudgingly, I took one. Very sweet. So I just nibbled on it, little by little. She’d already finished her second, and then she glanced at the clock. “Don’t let me keep you. If you need to get back—” “I’m on my lunch break. Carrot Cake just happened to wander by, and I just happened to ask him if he could stand in for me until I returned, so I’m in no hurry,” I said with an oh-so-innocent shrug. She merely shook her head at me. “Ever more deviant. I like it.” Her last pastry was long gone, and she’d flicked her eyes toward the remaining one several times. And I hadn’t even made it halfway through my first yet. “Please,” I said. She scooped it up, thank goodness. I would have hated to have to take it back to Sugarcube Corner with me. It might have made Cup Cake feel bad. One thing still bothered me, though. “The other day,” I started. She perked her ears toward me. “You knew something. When Cup Cake mentioned Buttercup meeting Bright Mac in the woods. You knew something she didn’t.” She glanced out the window as if somepony might be eavesdropping there. Then she leaned forward. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. But we don’t know each other that well yet. If it were just me, maybe, but this is someone else’s secret.” I nodded. Good ponies didn’t pry. “I don’t wish to bother y—thee in the middle of thy job.” Quickly, I gulped down the rest of my tart, swept the crumbs into the trash can, and stood to pick up the tray. She looked stricken. “You don’t have to leave!” “No, no, I’m not—” I held a hoof to my chest. “I’m not trying to punish you. I simply know you’re busy. You did say yesterday that you barely got to see your friends.” As she sank into her chair, she absolutely shrank. “Something I’m trying to change. You have to make time for friends. I’ll visit with Cup Cake. Soon.” She cocked her head toward my vacated chair. “And I’d very much like to keep talking to you.” I sat back down. Like that immense train engine that had astonished me on my first day here, she let out a hiss of a sigh. “Okay, look. I could actually use the help. Buttercup cannot hear about this, and that means Cup Cake can’t either. But—” she craned her neck to peer into the hallway “—Bright Mac is going to propose to her, sometime this month. He’ll have the ceremony ready to go, and he wants me to officiate. But I can’t carry everything out there myself.” I didn’t hear a question in there, but I answered anyway. “You can count on me.” “Excellent.” She rubbed her hooves together. “I figure a rock farmer keeps in good shape”—her eyes wandered down to the three rocks on my flank, and the corners of her mouth turned up again—“so between us, we should be able to handle it all.” Whatever about my cutie mark had her so interested, I had no idea, but yet another conspiracy? This was getting exciting! Bright Mac had set a date of almost three weeks later. Meanwhile, I brought a nice lunch treat to Mayor Mare every weekday. I did find it a rather relaxing escape there: not preoccupied with how I sounded, how I looked. The whole time, just comfortable, exactly like she wanted. If Cup Cake had known, she would have called it a relapse. Not having to concentrate on my speech while in the mayor’s office, not worrying about seeming to flaunt my mane, just wearing it up—it made for a wonderful refuge. I did see the value in Cup Cake’s prodding, but Mayor Mare was right: a pony needed a rest sometimes. I caught her staring more than once, though, in a way that didn’t quite make sense. Until maybe three days ago, when I’d gotten lost in admiring her eyes again. It turned out we had a lot in common. My love of quilting, and her hobby of cross-stitch, in what little time she had. But I’d bought some fabric and supplies with the tip money, and for the last couple of weeks, I’d worked on a quilt to give Buttercup as a gift. One of the wedding ring patterns, appropriately enough, which ponies shy away from trying, because they look so difficult. But Mayor Mare had helped me pick the colors, and we’d chatted endlessly during those lunch breaks. She might get through a bit of paperwork, or she might simply watch the quilt take shape under the direction of my flashing needle. She really understood me, independent of the roam-springa. Yes, I had a purpose in trying new things, but she kept me anchored in the familiar. A good politician spanned both worlds, and a good pony knew herself. About the time I realized that, I’d caught myself staring back at her. Today, another “closed” sign hung in Sugarcube Corner. Carrot Cake could have run it if needed, but Cup Cake hated to leave it entirely in his hooves. So there we both crouched, hiding behind some shrubs while listening to Mayor Mare pronounce Bright Mac and Buttercup married. Cup Cake had eyed me suspiciously the whole morning and insisted on following me here. Nothing I did would dissuade her, but at least she hadn’t divined my secret before now, and really, she had a right to see this. A good pony didn’t stand between friends. We could barely suppress squeals, but of course the fireworks and bombast had to come. Nothing ever works out perfectly. Grand Pear had stormed away, Granny Smith had leveled some harsh accusations at Mayor Mare, and the new couple had run off to be alone. As Granny Smith made a hasty exit of her own, I turned to Cup Cake. “Do you mind? I should make sure Mayor Mare is okay. If you could take some of her things back to town, I’ll get the rest when I go.” A frown still on her face, Cup Cake nodded. It should have been a happy occasion. “Sure. They’re married, though. That’s the important thing. I hope it didn’t cost Mayor Mare a friend in Granny Smith, but make sure she knows she still has you and me.” With everypony gone, we didn’t exactly have to stay hidden. So Cup Cake picked up what flowers and decorations she could, and I found Mayor Mare a short distance away, wearing a deeper frown than even Cup Cake’s. “Are you okay?” I asked. When she didn’t answer, I put an arm over her withers. “Granny Smith will come around. Don’t you worry about that. But Cup Cake, Buttercup, and I are your friends, too. No chance of losing us.” She hugged me back, and the frown disappeared almost instantly. She broke into a huge grin, and her beautiful blue eyes sparkled. “They did it! They actually did it!” One quick pirouette later, she grabbed me by the shoulders, laughing all the while, and keeled over sideways onto the ground, toppling me with her. “They actually got married!” That deep blue—I blinked and averted my eyes. No! I’d nearly ruined one friendship that way. I daren’t risk another! Good ponies didn’t put their friends on the spot. Then she propped up on her elbows, her face hovering just above mine. She kissed me. Very softly, like it was the most natural thing she could have done at that moment. I closed my eyes to savor her light touch, but she soon pulled back. So I opened them again to find her smiling down at me. I readily took up the invitation, reaching a hoof around her neck to bring her lips back to me. My eyes shut once more, I felt a hoof caressing my… cutie mark? A little odd, but it didn’t bother me. “Mm, you are toned,” she mumbled against my mouth. Never before would I have considered that a kiss might last longer than the brief, chaste peck on the cheek that I might give one of my parents. Until the incident with Cup Cake, and— But nearly an hour later, I wandered back into town in a daze, much like my first day here, but laden with the rest of Mayor Mare’s things, along with a rumpled mane and smudged lipstick. Cup Cake greeted me at the front door to Sugarcube Corner with raised eyebrows and a substantial grin. “Um… do you need help with that stuff?” My head jerked up to meet her gaze. “I-I kiss—she k-kissed—” In truth, I didn’t know who had initiated it. The words tumbled from my mouth. “We kissed.” Somehow, her eyebrows jolted even higher. “Not like—” She held a hoof to her mouth. “She kissed you? I take it that she’s in better spirits—” “We kissed.” In fits and starts, I glanced around the room for somewhere to drop everything and sit down. “Yes, you said that.” “A lot.” Her smile only broadened. Buttercup loved the quilt. But I couldn’t abide idle time, and I’d somewhat lost interest in Cup Cake’s romance novels, so I’d started on another quilt. Every day, I still brought some sort of treat with me to visit Mayor Mare at lunch, but I’d had to shift it to later in the afternoon. It wasn’t fair to Cup Cake to abandon her in the middle of one of the busiest times of day, so I didn’t wander over to city hall until two o’clock or sometimes later. Naturally, that meant that I didn’t find the building near as empty as on my first visit, and more and more of the civil servants greeted me by name now, with a smile. Then, bearing whatever Cup Cake had chosen to send over, I’d flip the sign on Mayor Mare’s door to “Out To Lunch” and go in. And inevitably we’d end up side by side in her chair, snuggled up and kissing. I strode in and pushed the tray toward her, and she picked up one of the rich pecan twirls. Then I got out a tissue and wiped the makeup off my face—I’d become reasonably good at it to the point I could apply it myself now, though Cup Cake still helped me in the mornings. And I did up my mane in a nice, tight bun. Mayor Mare rather liked it that way. But things ran deeper than that. I wouldn’t kiss her just to kiss her. I liked her. Good ponies never showed affection when they didn’t mean it. The summer months had turned to fall, and with a chill setting in, I needed to finish the quilt for Cup Cake. So I made my way over to the sofa Mayor Mare kept along the far wall, away from the window, and unfolded the bundle of cloth in my lap. She quickly finished her dessert and joined me. “Oh, you got more done last night? It looks good!” I smiled back at her. “Yes, I assembled two more blocks.” She’d only cross-stitched before, but at least she had some sewing experience, so I’d enlisted her help. “See that one?” I asked, pointing out an eccentric star along the unfinished edge. She nodded, a glimmer of recognition in her eye. “That’s the one you cut out for me last Thursday.” She wouldn’t say it, but it meant a lot to her to contribute. She really did treasure her friendship with Cup Cake, even if she couldn’t devote as much time to it as she liked. But little by little here, she’d made the effort, and I’d definitely tell Cup Cake that it was from both of us. Mayor Mare had spent plenty of time folding and cutting cloth for me, or just watching me sew, a huge grin on her face the whole time. As we’d done for the past two weeks, we draped the quilt over our laps to keep warm. I got out my pouch of scraps, including the pieces to another eccentric star block she’d cut out for me. “Do you want to try sewing it yourself?” “Oh, I couldn’t! I’d mess it up,” she said with a flick of her hoof. “You’ll do fine. And if it needs fixing, I can do that. As my father says, ‘You won’t learn any younger.’” I held out a needle and thread to her, and she gingerly took it, then laid out the block shapes in front of her. Her eyes swiveled back and forth between the one in her hooves and the finished one in the quilt, and she copied each stitch as best she could. She had to undo a couple, but in the end, it would have taken a fairly trained eye to discern it from the one I’d done. It only took her twenty minutes or so, but— Like when my own mother showed me years ago, I’d concentrated so hard on it that I’d mentally drained myself only minutes in. It had to be perfect, worthy of her. I set the block into place beside the adjoining ones, and the edges lined up nicely. “See? Thou didst great. Cup Cake will love it.” She beamed and slumped against me, then wriggled an arm around my back to give me a squeeze. With a smile of my own, I turned my head and gave her a light kiss. More than anything else, that struck me about her: always so soft and gentle. She noticed me squinting at the fabric. “Here,” she said, reaching for the tiny drawer in the end table beside her. “Try these.” An antique pair of glasses. With a chain attached. She draped the chain over my neck and set the glasses on my face. “My old reading pair. I need a stronger prescription nowadays,” she said, tapping a hoof at the ones on her own nose. “You’re welcome to them, and—” she crinkled her muzzle “—they make you look even cuter.” I could see a little more clearly with them. She scooted back against me, and the arm around me brushed up and down over my cutie mark, as she had in the woods that one day. And many times since. I’d finally asked her about that last week. Apparently, she liked the shape and firmness of my rump. I didn’t quite understand the appeal, but then I didn’t need to. Yet as my mind wandered to the matter of cutie marks— “I was wondering if thou couldst tell me what something meaneth,” I said. A little forced, but she might feel more amenable to talking about it if I leaned toward those mannerisms. “Sure,” she replied, her hoof still moving in vague circles on my flank. Not long ago, I’d asked Cup Cake about it: what Mayor Mare did before taking office. What the words meant. To the former, she said Mayor Mare mostly used to stay to herself in the evenings, but would help out her friends or around the school during the day. And to the latter, Cup Cake didn’t know. “‘Rocky with promise, overgrown with heart.’” Immediately, Mayor Mare’s hoof stopped, and she scowled. “Where did you read that?” Her eyes snapped over to a cracked-open drawer on her desk, one I’d noticed in the past but never paid any mind. “Did you look through my things?” “No! Of course not!” I froze, and my heart began racing. “I-I read it from your cutie mark!” She stared at me for a moment, but then her frown melted, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, letting out a sigh. “That wasn’t fair to you.” She pushed the quilt off herself and leaned sideways, her cutie mark exposed. And those words blazed up at me, or partly—cursive script, but with the tops of the letters clipped off as they disappeared into the scroll. “There used to be more,” she continued, “but it changed, once I became mayor, and… I can’t risk it going back.” How could such a thing happen? “Your cutie mark changed?” She nodded, then strode over to her desk, opened the drawer the rest of the way, and tossed a book on the desktop with a thump. “Just… I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Read this. You’ll get it.” Then she raised the most pitiable eyes to me that I’d ever seen: tears dancing in them, trembling, overflowing from the beautiful blue. “But you can’t tell anypony about this. Please.” I folded up the quilt and packed everything away while she sat in her chair, hooves over her face. Quietly I walked over to her, beside the chair, hugged her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Only then did I glance at the book: The Collected Poems of Will o’ Wisp. “Thank you,” I said. I kissed her again, laid the book gently on top of the quilt in my saddlebag, took Cup Cake’s tray under my arm, and left her alone. I read the book slowly. Poetry just didn’t make sense to me, and I wanted to understand, I really did. I wanted to understand her. But weeks later, I’d only gotten halfway through, and I hadn’t figured out what made it important yet. She hadn’t asked for it back. So we returned to normal, working on that quilt together, and she’d hoof-sewn over half of the blocks lately, much to her delight. We’d finish it before Winter Wrap Up. Of course, we’d also talk and enjoy each other’s company, and then I’d soon be in her chair next to her, tasting on her lips whatever confection Cup Cake had whipped up that day. I’d finally put the tip money in the bank, as I didn’t mind using it to buy quilting supplies. After Cup Cake’s, I would start on a nice one for Mayor Mare to use in her office on cold days. So if I actually had a need for the money, then why not follow Cup Cake’s advice? She had never really taken me shopping for clothes, but she made clear that color was the answer. The gray dresses and simple collars I had just wouldn’t do. I’d never get rid of them, for Mayor Mare’s sake, but some of them had gotten a bit threadbare. And so I stood in Barnyard Bargains, rummaging through the clothing racks. Plenty of color, but what about style? So many different kinds, and I had no idea what might work or why. I rifled through rack after rack, the pile on the clearance table, the bin by the fitting rooms. It reminded me of that first day emerging from the woods, completely lost in an alien world, and my breathing quickened. How did ponies make sense of this? A gray mare with a pink mane popped in the front door, grabbed a chilled water from the refrigerator case, and made a beeline for the cashier, but something caused her to stop. “You’re not buying that, are you?” she said, pointing at the beige jumper I clutched in my hooves for lack of anything better to do with it. “I-I… I don’t know.” She glanced at my dark gray dress as well, a sheet of slate that kept the world a comfortable distance away. “That’s rather grim. But—” her eyes roved to a worn place on the shoulder “—I suppose you already own that one.” She strode over and set her water bottle down, then frowned at all the other choices scattered around me on the floor. “Look, it’s not that you can’t find something complementary here, but it won’t exactly sing, either. You need to pick something that works with your body shape and natural color.” I could only gape back at her. “…And you clearly need adult supervision. Here.” Water bottle forgotten, she dug through the racks and tossed a few things my way. An orange top she paired with a dark blue skirt, a formal-looking jacket, a flowing red dress that hung off one shoulder. “These should do you for starters.” I stood there motionless, just holding them. I had my coin purse with me, stuffed as full of bits as I could get it. “Is this enough?” She squinted at me. No, I shouldn’t have bothered her with that. My money wasn’t her problem. So I curtsied. “I-I thank thee.” In an instant, she turned her full attention on me. “So you’re the one.” She let my bun down, and I set my jaw—only Cup Cake could do that! But I allowed her. She stood back and scanned me over. “Good bone structure, great face, neutral color, in shape. Yes, I heard the gossip about you over at the bakery, but I was disappointed to have missed you. Still, fate has a way of working things out.” She snapped a sharp nod. “Prim Hemline,” she added, pushing a business card into my saddlebag. “Premier fashion designer in Manehattan. I want you as one of my models.” “Model?” I’d never heard of such a thing. Model what? “Yes. Think of it!” She spread her forehooves out in a broad wave. “Rubbing elbows with the stars, wearing the finest clothes on stage with every eye following you, traveling to all the hottest locales around Equestria.” “Just leave?” Good ponies established roots. I knew the type. They liked to scorn the smaller towns. Except she didn’t. She spoke very gently. “If you’re satisfied with this, then fine. I can’t blame you. But if you really want something new and exciting, what can a small country town offer you?” She was right. She was completely right, and she had no idea why. Try new things. “Can I think about it?” “Fashion waits for nopony. I’m only here because my train to Manehattan had a brief layover, so I ran out for a snack and a drink. It leaves again in fifteen minutes. If you want to experience the best that life has to offer, be on it. I’ll have a ticket for you.” Then she scooped up her water bottle, turned smartly, and walked away. “What’s wrong, dear?” Cup Cake asked as I frantically shoved my few possessions into my pair of saddlebags. “I-I have to go. I don’t have time, and I might be gone a little while,” I said through my sniffling. She gaped back, a little fire rising in her eyes. “Why? What happened?” “New things, new places—Prim Hemline wants me to model—” “The Prim Hemline?” “I don’t know. I don’t know, but it’s my only chance to try it, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She’d broken into a huge grin. “How’d you even meet her!? This is a great opportunity for you! I heard of her when I was in Manehattan for culinary school. If you’re sure, then go, go! Don’t worry about me.” “You mean it?” My dresses, my hair ties, in the bag. “Yes, you go, and then you come back and tell me all about it when you can.” The quilt, stuff it down, w-with the book—the book on top. Her book. “And Mayor Mare?” Three minutes, no, only two left! I rushed down the stairs like a dislodged boulder and out the door, trailing tears the whole way. I tried to brush them off, but I only hit the glasses, knocked them off, dangling by their chain. Not only leaving her behind, but she’d have to find out about it from somepony else. She’d hate me forever. “Write her a letter!” Cup Cake shouted after me. “Explain it all, and come back to her as soon as you can! She’ll understand!” I made the train with about ten seconds to spare.