A few days later, Cinder Glow offered to show me around the theatre.
“It’s been a while since we’ve put on a play,” she said, indicating the open structure currently covered by a velvet curtain. “Everyone was so busy ever since we began preparing for the railway crew. No kirin had time to perform or to watch.”
“It must be a shame,” I said. “I would have loved to watch a kirin performance.”
“We might be able to put one on,” Cinder Glow said. “With the treehouses almost completed and the food problem sorted out, everykirin has a bit more time now.”
Once I had informed Fine Line of the ‘food problem’ the kirin were having, it turned out to have a remarkably simple solution. We simply received a shipment of food along with the construction materials we were receiving every week by rail, and it also provided an opportunity for the kirin to try out Equestrian cuisine.
“Only if it isn’t too much,” I replied. “I’d rather not burden you all more than we already have. Perhaps I could ask the rest of the crew if they’re interested, and you could talk to the kirin?” I knew Crosstie would surely be even more ecstatic than I was at the concept, but it would be no use if everypony else was disinterested.
“Sure,” Cinder Glow replied. “But come on!” She leapt onto the stage and ducked behind the curtains. I followed suit.
“This set seems familiar,” I mused, upon seeing the props that had apparently been left out in the open. “But… that is surely impossible. This is a kirin play, yes?”
“Of course. The Spirit of the Stage?”
“Indeed, I was not mistaken!” I cried. “But how has it become one of the most popular Bridleway musicals in recent months? And I also don’t know anykirin by the name of ‘Silhouette Gloom’, the supposed playwright.”
Cinder Glow smiled. “Give it to Autumn Blaze to use that as her pen name. She must have caught the eye of somepony close to the Equestrian theatre scene.”
We glanced around the stage. Collapsible set pieces were neatly gathered up and placed in little bundles, and when I investigated more closely, it was revealed that a thin layer of dust had settled upon them. Cinder Glow carefully swept it off.
“So, who do you play?”
“I play the Spirit, but I think I remember the script well enough play the other roles if I had to.” Cinder Glow went to a drawer and opened it, taking out a bone-white mask with an unmistakable shape.
“You know,” I said, leaning closer to peer at it, “I have never seen the mask in detail before. It is rather more elaborate than I imagined.”
Cinder Glow blushed. “Most of these were… personal touches. I’m the one wearing this thing, aren’t I?” She briefly put the mask on, and in that moment I could see how it was not just the Spirit’s mask, but her mask, with all of its curves and edges aligning with her visage.
“I like it,” I declared, surprising myself with my bluntness. “It suits you.”
“And now you’re just flattering me,” she said, while almost pushing me over. Still, it was impossible to miss Cinder Glow’s smile as she said those words. Then she sighed as she floated the mask back to its original place. “It’s been too long since I could act.”
“We’ll do it, then,” I said. “Let’s get a performance going.”
And as it turned out, the rest of the crew was potentially interested in such a thing. Crosstie was practically hitting himself for not trying to suggest it earlier. I think most of them were more interested in the novelty rather than the artistry which went into musical theatre, but it was an acceptable outcome nonetheless.
On the kirin side, it turned out that most of the other performers had shared a sentiment similar to Cinder Glow’s: wanting to perform, but too busy to do so. Now that circumstances had improved, they were willing to try to find time for the nessesary preparations and rehearsals. Rain Shine even proposed a general day of celebration on the last day of our contract, something which had Autumn Blaze jumping with somewhat-threatening excitement.
Or perhaps the jumping was rather innocent in and of itself. Her song about all the things that she just had to show the ponies, however, felt less so.
Only a couple weeks separated us from the end of the project now. We had laid down many miles of rail, and Rain Shine was confident in the kirin’s ability to build their own once we left.
During this time, I had formed quite the relationship with Cinder Glow.
We were like a pair of hooves. I could reach to the side when I needed a spike, and Cinder Glow would have one. If I saw that Cinder Glow needed another clamp, I would drop one at her hooves.
She always gave me a brilliant smile when I did that. I would smile back.
Sometimes, when we were done with construction work for the day, we’d socialize, and The Glowing Kiln had become a favourite hangout for the entire crew. Even Fine Line, our project manager, would come here sometimes. Autumn Blaze would often regale us with some tale or another, while Crosstie would be drinking to his heart’s content. Granted, it was tea, not coffee, but the effect seemed to be the same for him.
“You two’ve been hanging out a lot,” Crosstie said after a few cups. “Is there anything else, or are you ‘just friends’?”
I looked at Cinder Glow. She looked back and shrugged. It wasn’t as if we were trying to hide anything, but the subject was a delicate one.
With the noise of the cafe providing a semblance of privacy, I replied, “Maybe just slightly more than that.”
Crosstie smirked. “Just slightly?” At the same time, Cinder Glow bucked me in the shins.
“Don’t listen to him,” Cinder Glow said. “Clear Track’s mind hasn’t been so clear these days.”
“And that would be your fault, Cinder Glow. How am I supposed to keep my head on straight around you?” She blushed. I think I blushed harder. Did I really just say that?
“Hey, you two, can we tone down the PDA? It’s giving me a headache.” Crosstie gave us a smirk. “Jokes aside, I’m happy for you guys. Here’s to friendship and more. Cheers!”
Cinder Glow and I responded in kind as we clinked our cups together.
And after that day, my bond with her only grew stronger. Our relationship had always been known to us, but telling it to somepony else made it seem more real.
But at other times, Cinder Glow and I would walk away from the village, exploring the forests of the Peaks of Peril. This was much more convenient once the crew finally received our treehouses, and we no longer had to make the walk back to the train car.
“It’s getting late,” Cinder Glow said when I stumbled over an unseen tree root. “We should head back.”
I should have agreed with her. Already I could see the brightest of Luna’s stars.
Instead, I replied, “Why can we not stay out here, in the forest?”
She smiled. “You, Clear Track, the one who practically got scared out of your coat by a squirrel, are suggesting to stay here through the night?”
“That happened once.” I shoved her lightly. “Besides, you must admit that these woods can be disorienting at times. Were you not the one who insisted that you knew these woods like the walls of your hoof?”
She shoved me back. “That was also just one time. Besides, we're here, aren't we? No harm, no foul.”
“Indeed we are here, and I see no reason to leave. The nights are mild, and we might share the warmth.”
Cinder Glow’s cheeks grew a little brighter. “I... suppose.”
“If it becomes cold,” I added, “I would simply need to make you really angry.”
Cinder Glow turned away from me with a scowl, and it felt like my heart stopped.
“No, no!” I said. “Cinder Glow, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”
Cinder Glow shook her head, still facing away from me. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. Did I ever tell you that I was the one who started the fire?”
It took a moment for me to realize which fire she was referring to—the one which had consumed the village and led to years of silence. “You had not.”
She sighed. “The other kirin don’t treat me any differently for it. But it’s still my fault for that argument. Maybe if I just hadn’t smashed Winter Flame’s vase…”
Just look at me, I thought. Just look at me, please. Tell me it’s okay.
“I… am sorry for that, Cinder Glow.” I stepped up beside her, and laid a hoof across her back. “But you should not be. The mistake has been corrected, and I daresay the kirin have learned from the experience.”
Cinder Glow finally turned. Her eyes were glossy, reflecting a dozen stars.
“I know that in my head. But not in my heart.”
I did not know what to say after that, and apparently, neither did she. But we wandered along the forest for a while, trotting side by side, until we arrived at a small clearing. The sky had grown much darker.
“The stars, Cinder Glow.” I stared up at the night sky. “In my home, you never see so many stars. Thousands of street lamps, millions of homes, all shining light into the dusty air. The light pollution blocks out all except for the brightest of them.”
“I’ve lived all my life in these mountains,” Cinder Glow replied. “To me, this is normal. Yet when I think about the rest of the world… it frightens me, just a little. What’s Manehattan like, Clear Track? Not how others would describe it. You.”
I thought for a moment, taken aback at the sudden question. What was Manehattan to me?
Then I spoke.
“It’s the ponies there, and the memories I’ve made with them.” I looked her in the eye. “That’s all that home is, isn’t it?”
Cinder Glow smiled, and shook her head. “Keep explaining.”
I tried to think of some examples. “Manehattan Park is one of the most beautiful urban parks in Equestria, but that doesn’t really matter. All that matters are the times I’ve been there with my father and with Crosstie. And the same goes for plays I’ve watched at Bridleway. I was never interested in theatre, but when Crosstie took me to a few performances, suddenly it became important to me.”
Cinder Glow paused. “Huh. I… suppose that makes sense. Do you have many other friends there?”
“There’s Crosstie, whom I mentioned, and there’s the ponies I hang out with at the bars. Goldenrod, Star Spot, Radical Numbers… but apart from Crosstie, none of them are very close friends. Why?”
“In this village, I know every kirin who lives here. I’ve played with them growing up, and even during the hardest of times, we’ve always worked together. Especially during the hardest of times.” Cinder Glow looked down. “I’d be lost without them. I don’t think I could ever adjust to a big city like that.”
“Why would you need to?” I said. “I think this place is beautiful, and you fit perfectly.”
“Do you really mean that?” she asked. Her voice was trembling. “All of it?”
“I do. It’s a wonderful village, and—”
Cinder Glow leaned forward and pressed her snout alarmingly close towards mine. I leaned away instinctively.
And immediately realized my mistake.
“No, Cinder Glow, wait!” I said, desperate. Cinder Glow’s face was a bright red, and I felt my own cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I… I would be fine with it.”
Cinder Glow shook her head. “No, you don’t have lie just to make me—”
I wrapped a hoof around her mane and pressed her face against mine.
It was perfect. It lasted forever. It lasted only a moment.
We pulled apart. I was breathing heavily.
“What… what now?” I said.
“What do you mean?” Cinder Glow asked. “Was I… bad?”
“No, no, nothing like that!” I blushed in embarrassment. “But the construction project is over soon. Where would we be after that?”
“You think too much,” Cinder Glow said. She tapped me on the nose. “There’s still quite a while.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “But it’s a legitimate question, and better to deal with them sooner rather than later.”
“And just because the project ends doesn’t mean you don’t have to leave.” She gestured around us. “You said this place was beautiful, and you don’t have many friends in Manehattan. You could stay here. You could even keep building railways.”
“Yes. I suppose I could.” I thought for a moment. “Or you might move to Manehattan with me, and we can experience the beauty of my home together. And if that doesn’t work? The world is a great place. We could go anywhere.”
“See, Crosstie? There’s so many options. So you can stop panicking.”
“Yes, I suppose. Though we should still keep it on our minds?” I looked at her. Cinder Glow looked back. Her eyes. Those shining, golden eyes.
“I will.”
Eventually, we fell asleep in that meadow, wrapped in a blanket of starlight and in each other’s hooves.
That question churned in my head over the next few days. To stay, or to leave? Manehattan was what I knew. I loved the atmosphere of the run-down bars, the curated beauty of Manehattan Park, even the cramped little place that I called home.
But I had never before met anyone like Cinder Glow. She was a roaring fire in a cold room. I did not wish to part with her.
Apart from Crosstie, I had few close connections. I asked if he would consider moving to the Peaks of Peril.
“Of course not!” he said. “The village is nice, the kirin too, but I wouldn’t give up Manehattan just for that. It’s so… small, here.” He paused for a moment, scratching his head. “This is about Cinder Glow, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“Well, I know how long you’ve lived in Manehattan, and it’s not like we’ve been stuck there.” Crosstie scratched his head. “For Celestia’s sake, you’ve been working railways longer than I have. I can tell you like this place, but not more than any of those other cities and towns we’ve been.”
“You have me there.” I sat down. “So, what do I do?” I knew that Crosstie could be… odd, sometimes, but he was my dear friend and I respected his advice.
“What, about moving or not?” Crosstie shrugged. “Look, I might be a little biased here, ’cause I’d miss hanging out with you. But think about it. Would you live here if it wasn’t for her?”
“The food here is superb, and the views are…” I paused at Crosstie’s raised eyebrow. “Fine. Admittedly, I would not.”
“So you see, it’s really between you and Cinder Glow. I mean, you technically could just move back if it doesn't work out. But the fact that you’re asking me this question, rather than Cinder Glow, says something.”
That last sentence seemed unusual for the mostly straightforward Crosstie, but I was in no mood to delve any deeper.
The relationship, of course, did not did not go unnoticed. Though Crosstie had been the first to realize—or at least be so blunt as to bring it to our attention—a number of ponies and kirin eventually became aware of it. And of those, I suppose it was no surprise that some came to the same conclusion that Crosstie had.
A blade hung over our heads, and the rope was fraying.
“Rain Shine wants to speak with you two,” Fine Line said.
“But our shift isn’t over,” I replied.
“Honestly, Clear Track? You haven’t been doing much anyway.”
I hung my head in shame, because it was true. How could we, our thoughts being as occupied as they were?
But to my surprise, she continued, “I should have called you off sooner. The railway’s almost finished anyway, so there was no point in forcing yourselves to work.” She paused for a moment, as if steeling herself for a dive into frigid water. “There’s also another consideration.”
“Which is?” Cinder Glow prompted.
She sighed. “I don’t know about you, Cinder Glow, but for me, Princess Twilight Sparkle had clearly set out the primary purpose of this assignment, and it was not to build the railway. It was to teach you, and more than that, it was to improve relations with the kirin in general.” Fine Line shook her head. “I just hope that the Princess can forgive how I've totally botched this. But the rest is not for me to say. Just go and talk to Rain Shine, please.”
“Clear Track. Cinder Glow. Please, make yourselves comfortable, and help yourselves to anything you’d like.”
There were three cups of foal’s breath tea—the scent was more than familiar to me by now—and a small bowl of snacks on the wooden mat. Not just local fruits, either; Rain Shine had managed to find some of the chocolates from the food shipments. I awkwardly sat down on the provided cushion, while Cinder Glow did so significantly less awkwardly.
Rain Shine lay down only once we had settled in, her large frame seeming to spill across the floor. Lowering herself to eye level had managed to remove some of the intimidation factor.
“The project will be over soon,” she said. “And from what I understand, it has gone exceptionally well. Cinder Glow, would you say that the kirin are close to being able to build their own railway?”
“With materials, we could probably extend the current network,” she replied. “But that’s not why we’re here, right?”
Rain Shine sighed, and I could see how her entire body seemed to deflate. “I am happy for you two,” she began. And she took yet another breath. “Like wind and rain, one is lonely without the other.”
Cinder Glow blushed and leaned against my shoulder.
“But we all know that there is no warmth without flame.” Rain Shine paused for a moment, then lifted her own cup with an unsteady golden glow before drinking in one gulp what must have been most of the tea. “The project is almost over, which means coming to a decision about the future. I won’t tell you what to do. I will suggest that you figure it out before the project ends, so that there is no risk of misunderstanding.”
Her words were met only by sullen looks. Of course we knew that already.
Rain Shine managed to force herself onward despite the lack of response. “Clear Track, I would welcome you, or any of the other construction ponies, to live in our village. You have been such wonderful help for us, and I think I speak for all of the kirin when I say that your presence has been a delight. And with the new railway extension, it should not be too difficult for you to move your belongings here.”
“And you’ll even have a place to stay,” Cinder Glow added. “I mean, we were going to use them as sort of temporary visitors’ housing after the project, but you could keep your current if you wanted.”
I only managed to nod as my stomach twisted itself into knots. Living here and leaving Manehattan behind… it would be a serious commitment. Wasn’t foal’s breath tea meant to make the drinker more talkative?
Seeing that I had little more that I wanted to say on the matter, Rain Shine shook her head. “I had hoped… but no, this meeting would not have been needed if that was the case.” She sighed and turned her attention towards my companion. “Cinder Glow, you might remember how I had spoken many times with Princess Twilight Sparkle in these past few years.”
Rain Shine received a single half-hearted nod. I knew that Cinder Glow loved the village, and more than that, so much of herself was intertwined with this place. She did not want to go any more than I wanted to leave Manehattan.
“One of those times,” Rain Shien continued, “the Princess brought up the topic of what she called ‘immigration’. I still do not understand why the process of moving to Equestria should be so complicated, but she mentioned that she was slowly making it easier. The Princess wants Equestria to be a home for any creature, so if you wish to move there, I know that she would be glad to help you through the steps.”
Cinder Glow’s expression darkened, and I put a hoof around her back. I wished that I could comfort her more—yet, I was the very reason she might give up her home.
Rain Shine noticed as well. “You have been one of the kirin I can always rely on,” she said. “Ever since I became leader, and even before then, you were always there for the village. You have done so much, Cinder Glow”—and there her words almost choked off—“and I never would have made it through those first days without you.”
Cinder Glow tried to hang her head even lower, but a glow caught her chin and lifted it.
“Whatever debt you think you owe to the village, you have already paid it, and a thousand times more. I will miss you dearly if you do decide to go, as I would miss any kirin of our village. But you have no obligation to stay.”
There were tears in Cinder Glow’s eyes, and as I noticed, in Rain Shine’s well. I let her go as Rain Shine pulled her into an embrace.
“The fire wasn’t your fault,” the kirin leader said softly. “No more than anyone else.” Rain Shine looked at me while Cinder Glow collapsed into sobs. “Clear Track, you should know why I made those terrible decisions that day. The smoke from our smoldering homes was heavy in the air, yet most of us were still niriks, looking for something, or someone, to blame for the fire. The only way to stop the anger, to stop anykirin from being hurt or worse… it was for each and every one of us to bear the full responsibility for what happened.”