Collection of Heart Warming Hearth's Warmings

by SwordTune

Month of the Moon

One night, on the southern edge of Equestria, a little orphanage in the middle of Somnabula slept safe and sound. All the fillies had dreams in their heads, and nothing was stirring, save for one bed.

"What are you doing, Masala?" asked their guardian mare, Somnabula. She entered the room, where three fillies slept, and looked out the window, where night's light the moon had kept.

"Mamam," said the filly, whose green eyes shimmered like glowpaz, "it's so dark tonight. Did the moon really disappear?"

"No-lah," she chuckled, whispering to the filly. "Who told you that?"

"The bearded unicorn who visits, the one with the funny hat," said Masala. "I heard him tell you that the moon won't leave her castle."

Somnabula smiled by what she had mistaken. "Chiya, night and day is a balance that can't be taken away."

Masala nodded, listening as if she understood. But, Somnabula saw the confused filly's expression, stiff as wood.

"Yalla, I have something to show you."

The filly did as she was told and followed out of her cot, still wrapped in her fleece blanket. Her guardian let her ride on her back while they walked into town. At night, the only things alive were candle flames that danced in their lanterns. In the middle of the village market, they arrived at an obelisk. It was the Speaking Stone, a large piece of marble used to carve the most important stories in Somnambula.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Of course," said Masala. "All the kids play around it when the market is open."

"Ah, so you have been learning to read, yeah?" Somnambula carried the filly to the west-facing side and sat her down by one of the stories. "Do you know what this one says?"

She pointed to a corner of the obelisk. The pictures had been carved, but not painted, not like all the other stories. But, under the light of the candles, Masala could see a picture of a dial and a thin silver crescent.

"It's about the lunar calendar," she read, "and the Month of the Moon."

"Yes, and the whole village will start preparing tomorrow morning for the Month of the Moon festival. Until the next full moon, the festival will be on every pony's minds."

Masala knew about the festival, she had seen the adults preparing for it every year for as long as she could remember, but no pony ever asked her or the other orphans to help.

"Is it fun?" she asked.

Somnambula thought for a moment. "Mhm, yes, I'd say it's very fun."

"Then I want to do it!" cried Masala.

"But it's also very hard."

"What's so hard about the festival?"

"Oh, that's a long story chiya. Long stories are only for fillies who sleep."

Masala stomped her hoof. "Then I will go to bed, just tell me."

"Fine." Somnambula picked up the little filly and put her on her back as they walked back to the orphanage. "I'll tell you now, so once we get there you better head straight to bed."

She clung tightly and listened.

"Long ago, before the ponies of the sun and the moon discovered their talents, the heavens could only move when groups of powerful unicorns formed to do the job. But, moving the heavens is no easy task. Those who chose to help often lost their magic for good. The Month of the Moon is celebrated in the month of the winter solstice, when the nights are the longest, so that ponies all over Equestria can show their appreciation for the nights that those ponies sacrificed to give us. But it wasn't popular with every pony, because if you joined the first festival, it was a promise to sleep in the day and be awake at night."

"They lived at night? Like the miyabus!"

"No-lah," laughed Somnabula. "Blood-sucking ponies don't exist, chiya."

"No," whined Masala, "I heard at school Masafali's goats got their blood sucked. His father told every pony they were attacked by the miyabus.

"Or he should deal with the mosquito infestation on his farm," Somnambula joked. "Just because there are some creatures that live in the night, doesn't make them monsters. That's what the Month of the Moon is all about."

When they reached the orphanage Masala was already yawning, but, she still had a question stuck in her mind. "Why do we still celebrate the Month of the Moon? You said it was done before the sisters."

"True, but we still have to show thanks to both of them, just as the land needs both day and night to grow." Somnambula carried Masala to her cot and tucked her in quietly. The other children had been sound asleep and had no idea they even left. "The word is haramarah, two things existing together in perfect harmony. We cannot pick favourites between the sun and moon."

Somnambula kissed Masala on the forehead and finally, the filly could go to sleep. Tomorrow at school she wanted to tell all her friends that she was going to join the festival. If Somnambula believed it was important, she thought to herself, she would believe the same.

The school in Somnambula was a temple with a large courtyard for the children to play in. Between lessons on reading and writing, they learned arithmetic and painting.

"Has your family started preparing for the Month of the Moon?" Masala asked some of the students who weren't orphans.

"Yes," said one colt, "my auntie came over from the north to join us this year. She's bringing lanterns we need for the New Moon Celebration."

"The new moon?" Masala got confused. "I thought the festival was on the first day of the Month when the moon was full."

"Ceyna, do they tell you anything in that orphanage, Masala?" The colt laughed at her. "The New Moon Celebration is for the middle of the Month. It also marks one month after today, the first day of preparations."

"Somnabula didn't tell me about that part," said Masala. "Where am I going to find lanterns?"

Another colt nudged Masala. "What you so worried about, eh? Those lanterns are for ponies who actually go to the Month of the Moon Festival."

"What do you mean?" asked Masala.

"You're not thinking of going to the festival, will you?" asked the colts. They looked at each other. Masala had no idea why, but they suddenly look really sad.

"I'm sorry Masala," one of them told her. "At the festival, when you make a promise to sleep only in the day, you make it with a family prayer."

"Can't I just do it by myself?" She felt her chest tighten.

They looked at each other again. "I dunno kasho, is that how it works?"

"Inwalacha, kasho, my family always said it had to be family," said the other colt. "Haramarah, you know? Everything fits together."

Masala felt her whole world crushed. Somnambula took care of the orphanage, but she was a hero to the whole village, not just her. And she didn't know her real family.

"Sorry, cha," said one colt, "I thought you knew."

The days passed into weeks, and every morning Masala woke sadder and sadder. She thought, at first, that she didn't need to be a part of the Month of the Moon. She had lived nine years without it. Maybe she didn't need to do it Somnambula this year.

But because she knew what it was, she couldn't ignore all the preparations. First, ponies painted their walls with light ochre paint and white chalk. Murals of bedtime stories were bright so that they could reflect the moon's light. Families painted their favourite stories on their homes. The Hawk and the Cactus was a popular one, along with The Navigator Who Fell.

Then, daughters went with their mothers to weave baskets for the harvest. To feed so many ponies, the village would harvest more fruits and grain than it knew what to do with. There were dates, cactus pears, bushels upon bushels of wheat, and most importantly, there would be apples.

Meanwhile, fathers taught their sons how to buck and wrestle. The Month of the Moon had three wrestling tournaments for young colts to test their strength: one on the first night during the festival, one on the night of the new moon, and the third one was on the last night of the month. The winner would get to wear a crown of silver branches wrapped in vitex flowers, bright purple blooms that grew on the few trees that grew in the desert.

Finally, new clothes were woven by families. Like their walls, they used bright dyes so the patterns would be visible at night. Fillies wove the cotton and colts helped their fathers dye the clothes blue, yellow, purple, and green. Then, mothers sat together in the markets to add gemstones to the clothes to help them sparkle under the moon's light.

There was only a week left in the preparations, and all the village had to do was harvest their crops. Masala sat in her cot and stared out of the window.

"Think, Masala," said one of her roommates, "even if you could join the festival, how many of your friends will be sleeping? All my friends said their families only help prepare because it's fun, they don't make the promise prayers."

Masala pouted out the window. "Why not?"

"There's so much to do during the day," she said. "We don't get cold winters like the north in all the stories. Since the fields are all harvested, farmers have to start replanting, and they do it in the day when they can see what they're doing."

"Kambwajie!" Masala groaned, frustrated that her friends had been telling her to forget about the Month of the Moon. Every pony said it was okay to miss it, but then the whole celebration was about peace and haramarah.

"Weya!" Somnambula poked her head into the room. "What was that I just heard, kichiyus?"

Masala's roommate sat up stiff in her cot, her sand-coloured coat turning red from embarrassment. "Nothing, mamam!" She jumped out from her covers and quickly left to play with the other kids out in front of the orphanage.

Somnabula walked in and eased herself next to Masala, who hardly reacted to her scolding. "What's the matter? I know you're not really a kichiya, so why are you saying such bad words."

Masala buried her head in her hooves. "You say it sometimes," she said, her words were muffled, "when the bearded pony comes with bad news, or when Anana breaks the pots, or-"

"Ahem," Somnambula put her wings around Masala and squeezed the filly gently. "Why don't you talk about what made you say those things, huh?"

Masala shook her head. She didn't want her guardian to worry. What could be done? Ever since the last new moon families had been preparing for the Month together. Her classmates were right, the festival wasn't meant for her. Somnambula looked at the filly, then out through the door. She saw children dressed in colourful clothes who had paint all over their hooves. Masala had none of that. Her clothes were plain cotton white, her hooves were clean.

"Why aren't you out there with the others?" she asked. "I thought you liked painting."

"There's no use." Masala covered her ears.

"Eh? What, you don't like the moon?"

"Mamam! Kihita!"

Somnambula took her wings off of Masala. Such frustration confused her. What could upset a little filly so much? Somnambula looked firmly into the filly's eyes. They were red, nearly crying, but she was strong. Masala had clearly been upset for a while, she just didn't show it.

"What is it, chiya? Do you want to be a part of the festival?"

Slowly, Masala nodded.

"But the kids with families are stopping you?"

She shook her head.

Somnabula looked out through the window, trying to think what could keep a filly away from festivals. Mothers with daughters, sons with fathers, the outside seemed so full of life. As comforting as the orphanage was, it was as still as a crib compared to the marketplace. Locking her self inside her room must have been lonely. Somnabula's eyes widened.

"Do you think you can't join just because you don't know your parents?"

Masala looked up at her guardian. She didn't say anything, but Somnambula knew she was right. She put a wing over the filly head and combed her mane.

"Oh, chiya, who told you such a thing?"

"All the other kids say they celebrate with their family. I'm the only one who's alone."

"What about us, the kids in the orphanage? Some pony will be here in the day so that I can sleep and celebrate at night."

"But the other kids don't care, mamam. I'm the only one who wants to stay awake all night. I'll be the only pony alone, and no pony celebrates the Month of the Moon alone."

"Says who?" Somnambula smiled as a story came into her head. "You know, no pony had passed the Sphynx before me. But I did it. Now every pony calls this town by my name. Yalla mila laya."

"That's different, that was heroic."

"I think standing for what you believe is heroic."

"But," Masala finally looked up to Somnabula, "the prayer, the promise ponies make, I don't have a family to do it with."

"Forget it, do you think Luna really cares?"

Confusion washed over the little filly's face. The name she had heard before, but she didn't know who it belonged to. Somnabula paused herself, realizing she needed to explain a little bit more about the Month of the Moon.

"Sorry, I guess I never had to use her name before," she chuckled. "Luna is the pony who moves the moon now, though some of my friends up north have started caller her Princess Luna. She has powers over dreams and helps all of us fight off our nightmares. All year, she works at night and sleeps in the day, just like ponies who celebrate the Month of the Moon."

"That sounds hard. Doesn't any pony help her."

"They are welcome to try if they have the magic. But during the Month, when we sleep in the day, we're dreaming at the same time as Luna. And believe me, she can feel it. She knows she has hundreds of ponies supporting her, even if we can only show it at night, and it helps her keep going in her duties."

"Keep going?"

Somnambula's smiled slipped for a moment. "Ah, shouldn't have said that. But, I guess it's not a big secret. You know that not every pony celebrates the Month, right?"

"Oshmia said the farmers don't because the village harvests everything left in the field."

"She's right, they don't. Others too, if they think they have more important things to do in the day. My friend, Starswirl, the one you said has a funny hat, he told me last month that Luna's been more lonely lately. That's why this year's Month of the Moon is so special. If you want to celebrate, then go ahead! As long as Luna knows you appreciate the night she brings to us, then your celebration is as good as any pony else's."

"She'll really know?" Masala's eyes had stopped watering, and her posture had stopped slouching.

Somnabula smiled and laughed. "Oh, I've met her. She's probably already been in your dreams, you've just never noticed. Right now, I bet she knows exactly how you feel, and she's been trying to make you sleep peacefully every night."

"I guess that won't be too bad. No matter what, I'll be celebrating the Month with Luna, right?"

"Hey, don't forget about me, okay?" Somnambula rubbed Masala's head. "If you still want to pray with some pony, you can do it with me at the obelisk in the market."

"Huh? You don't pray with your family?"

"Oh, I did, but age catches up to all of us, chiya. I made my peace with it long ago, and now I pray on behalf of my parents in the market." Somnabula smiled. "A lot of families actually join me out in the market. I get to see all the kids and grandparents, happy husbands and wives. I'm might be a hero, but I think that makes it harder for stallions to approach me, so, the Month of the Moon makes me feel like the whole village is my family."

Masala's eyes grew big. She didn't think about it, but she never saw Somnambula with any pony but her friends. Yet, she wasn't lonely, and she still celebrated the Month. Quickly, she shed her covers and jumped out of her cot. Her eyes were still a little red, but she was smiling.

"Yallah, mamam, if I want to celebrate with the whole village I have to something with them. Hurry!"

"Okay, chiya," Somnambula laughed, stumbling after Masala, "just take it easy, my wings can't be pulled around like a toy."

On the night of the festival, Masala wore the robes she had dyed with some of the other orphans. They didn't want to have to sleep in the day, but they still helped Masala get ready for her first Month of the Moon. Her soft cotton was dyed bright blue, and light yellow swirls stretched across it like the stars in the sky. Polished amber hung on her and radiated like fire when they reflected the light of the moon.

"Look!" One of the colts from her class called out and ran up to Masala. "Hey, cha! You showed up! I guess you really don't need a family to celebrate, eh?"

"The village is my family tonight, Mchango," she said, hugging him first, then shoving him playfully. "Why'd you tell me I couldn't be a part of this?"

"Inwalacha, it's what my family told me, okay?"

In the middle of the market was a glazed apple shop, where Mchango's two older brothers tried to fit as many slices as they could into their mouths.

"Nevermind," he said, embarrassed. "Maybe my bad advice was a good warning."

Masala walked throughout the village with Mchango and her other classmates. They played hafirgam, a race where every pony had to balance a date on their nose while they walked around the track. Masala ran every time, and she didn't care if the date fell, because if it did, she had to eat it and get another one.

Some shops gave out incense sticks to ponies enjoying the festival. "My special recipe helps calm the mind during prayer," one candlemaker said to Masala as he gave her a bundle of three.

When the full moon reached its highest point, a bell was rung from the middle of the marketplace. Somnambula wanted every pony to know she was about to make her promise and welcomed any pony to join. Some parents gave the market some space and took their kids back home for their own prayers, but for every one family who left, two stayed.

"I have to be with my family," Mchango said, waving goodbye to Masala. "Are you alright staying here?"

She nodded. "Don't worry, cha. Some pony is always watching us on the Month of the Moon. I won't be alone."

The crowd around the market thickened, and Masala rushed to reach the obelisk before it got too crowded. Somnambula was there dressed in gold and red silks with a headdress covered in clear opal. She wore the night sky. Patterns inside the gemstones formed clouds of rainbow colours like the clusters of stars above them.

Somnambula sat quietly under the obelisk, but peeked to see Masala sitting next to her. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Masala knelt and looked at her guardian, unsure of what she was talking about. But then, her eyes turned to the crowd around her. Somnambula looked beautiful, but the sight of hundreds of ponies gathering at the base of the obelisk was beyond words. They were an ocean in the middle of the desert: a miracle. Masala tried to count the different blues and greens and shimmering yellows, but there was too much. For once, she felt all eyes on her.

Finally, Somnambula began her prayer and the ponies who remembered her words chanted along.