//------------------------------// // Chapter 41 // Story: The Haunting // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// The Haunting Admiral Biscuit Milfoil’s family didn’t come after me with pitchforks or shotguns or any other kind of hostility. They were kind and generous and not at all upset that she’d fallen in love with me. I hadn’t really expected that, even though Milfoil had assured me that that would be the case. Just the same, Hearth’s Warming Eve was stressful. I didn’t know pony traditions, and I was sort of a third wheel in every conversation except for those that were directed at me—mostly questions about how different Equestria was from Earth or how we celebrated Christmas. I generally gave short, easy answers, since I didn’t want to take up everybody’s time with a long, involved explanation. I think I made a good impression. At the very least, I didn’t make a fool of myself. And Milfoil’s mother—White Ginger—was very thoughtful, telling me what was in every dish she’d made so that I’d know if I could eat it or not. I was pretty sure that I could eat most any plant that a pony could, although it might not have any nutritional value to me, but just the same I figured it was safest to stick to things I’d eaten before. Getting sick at the table was not a way to make a good impression. ••••• We left their house late in the afternoon and made our way back to my house. “Emerald Fern’s cute, isn’t she?” “Yeah.” That was Sabi Star’s daughter. She’d been afraid of me at first, hiding behind her mom’s legs, until her curiosity overcame her fright and she finally wound up falling asleep on the couch next to me. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but, unless I missed something Sabi’s husband wasn’t there.” For just a second, I thought I’d screwed up. Maybe he’d died—maybe he’d been killed by the wolf, too. Or maybe— “She doesn’t have a husband. Is that something that humans have to have in order to have a foal—a child?” “No,” I admitted. “That’s why I didn’t ask.” “Is that something people expect?” “Well, yes.” I was already sorry I’d brought the topic up. I should have kept my mouth shut. “It’s not like that’s always the case, though, but a lot of people expect it. Some people in my family were always saying bad things about my cousin who got pregnant even though my dad’s on his third marriage. Maybe his fourth by now, I don’t know.” That was a weird thing to think, but it could be true. My parents could have gotten divorced in my absence and not bothered to tell me. “It’s complicated.” “I think now isn’t the time for complicated. It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve!” “So we should run through the snow like damn fools?” “I think so.” ••••• As if the Running of the Leaves hadn’t proved it, Milfoil was much more athletic than I was. In fact, she was almost certainly holding back; she could have made it to my house and cooked a second dinner by the time I got there. “Give me a basketball, and I’ll show you,” I muttered to nobody but myself. Truth was, she’d probably show me up in that, too. There was some tiny part of my mind that was bothered that she was faster than I was, but that tiny part of my mind was overridden by the happiness I felt at her joy of life. Joie de vivre. That was her, that was pure, that was elemental, and I ran along behind her feeling like a clumsy ape, like a marionette being controlled by a drunk puppeteer. ••••• I heard the song, even though I wasn’t trying. ••••• My house was a respite. Quiet. It was a place of peace, a familiar place, a sanctuary. Opening the back door was familiar, comfortable. It was a known quantity. We’d invited the old stallion over, but he’d declined. I wasn’t entirely disappointed that he had. I think that Windflower might have liked to have him there, but maybe not. She hadn’t been haunting his house as far as I knew, and she could have been if she’d wanted to. Even though we’d spent plenty of time together, and even though the house had been decorated for a while, today was the real deal, and it was to be savored. We were both breathing heavily from our run through the snow, and I tossed my parka off and collapsed on the couch with her. Even with the cold, we were both sweaty but we didn’t care about that. For the moment, it was just the two of us and the world revolved around us. ••••• Milfoil had found a couple of gifts for Windflower. Old books that she’d owned, books that had her name written in them. We hoped she’d be able to interact with them, but we weren’t entirely sure she would, and had debated back and forth on this. It didn’t feel right to not give her anything for Hearth’s Warming Eve. I would have been crushed as a child if I hadn’t gotten any presents for Christmas. On the other hand, we both agreed that books she couldn’t touch presented in wrapping paper she couldn’t open would be even worse. So we ultimately both agreed that the best course of action was to put them out in the living room. She’d either pick them up and read them herself or else I’d do it for her. I was also curious about how aware she was of her situation. Milfoil assured me that large amounts of gift-giving wasn’t the pony way, and she was confident that Windflower knew that her parents were the ones who gave her gifts and since they were gone, she wouldn’t be expecting anything. That hadn’t deterred me from getting Milfoil several gifts, but those would wait for later. ••••• Windflower came in and went right over to her plant and did her usual inspection of it. If she saw the books at all, they didn’t interest her like her Hearth’s Warming Doll had. Once she’d made sure that her plant was still thriving, though, she did go over and examine them, finally settling on a book about garden plants. I should have seen that coming. We were on the edge of our seats as she laid her hoof on the cover, and both breathed a little sigh of relief when it didn’t pass through. Windflower experimentally lifted the cover of the book slightly with her hoof, then picked it up in her mouth and looked up at us on the couch. We’d left enough room for her to sit between us if she wanted to, so she floated up on the couch with her garden book and we watched attentively as she opened it up. She pointed to her name on the first page, and then to herself. “It’s your book,” Milfoil said. “We can keep it here in the house for you or you can take it with you if you want.” Windflower nodded. I hoped she wasn’t going to take it with her; it would get ruined out in the woods. Although maybe that didn’t matter. If it made her happy, who cared what happened to the book? She opened it up and started paging through it, examining the woodcuts of flowers and plants and occasionally pointing out one that she particularly liked. When she got to the valerian, she pointed to the plants in pots. “What are the other ones?” Milfoil asked. Windflower scrunched her brow and flipped through the book, finally settling on yarrow. “And what’s your plant?” This was quicker. The book practically fell open to the page. Amaranth. When I was a kid, I’d been interested in tropical fish, and my parents had gotten me a book on them, and the binding was loose or broken on the pages of my favorite fish, so I nodded my head as she bent down and re-read a description she’d surely already memorized. ••••• She left the book in the living room, on the table.  I’d half expected her to take it with her, and either hide it in the attic, or take it back to the woods with her, but she didn’t. I’d lost all sense of time. It was late, it was surely past our bedtime, but it was Hearth’s Warming Eve—technically, certainly Hearth’s Warming by now. We could have opened our presents for each other. That was surely allowed by the rules. But we didn’t. We sat on the couch as the fire burned low. I thought about Christmases past, and I’m sure Milfoil was doing the same. Or maybe she was thinking to the future. In my minds eye, I could almost see us sitting on the couch together, watching a child open presents. Sipping hot chocolate, and we’d both be wearing matching sweaters. Admittedly, that was an odd thing to think; I’d never seen her wear a sweater. Some unicorns in town had them, though, so it wasn’t an idea that was completely foreign to ponies. Or hoodies. She’d look adorable in a hoodie. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, and she leaned into my chest, nuzzling my breastbone before tilting her head up for a proper kiss on the lips. When we finally went up to my bedroom, I didn’t expect that I would sleep, but I did.