I still remember the day Moon vanished. She was there in the evening, sleeping peacefully, and gone in the morning when I awoke. No pony knew what happened to her that night, and no pony has ever found out. Search parties went out, looking all over Ponyville and even venturing into the Everfree Forest to hunt her down, but she was never found. It was assumed she has died, and my parents accepted that fact. I, however, refused to believe it. Despite the quiet, shy, nervous filly she seemed to be on the outside, Moon Dance was a born survivor. I continued the search, never giving up and hoping that one day I would see her cute little face again. I've never forgotten the clumsy way she flew and the graceful way she ran, the way she seemed to be too different ponies rolled into one. I've never forgotten the day when she got her cutie mark, a full moon hidden by clouds, and the way her big blue eyes sparkled in joy as she spotted it for the first time. I've never forgotten a single detail about my beloved sister, and I know I never will.
Life has moved on. After looking through every corner of Ponyville and once or twice in the forest, I knew the whole town like the back of my hoof but there was still no sign of her. Despite my initial determination to never accept that Moon Dance was dead, it began to seem like there was just no way she could possibly be alive. I’ve continued to hold my head high, keeping my pain on the inside, hidden away from every pony but my family and closest friends (uh, friend). The only thing that really kept me sane was Rainbleed. I met her shortly after Moon Dance’s disappearance, and for a while she filled the hole left by my sister. Although I now call Rainbleed my best friend, that title belongs to Moon Dance alone, and I know no pony will ever replace the relationship I had with my sister.
“Hey, Song. You okay?” Rainbleed’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife. “Song!” She gently bumps into me, and I look at her, my expression blank. “Feelin’ down again, huh?” she asks. Her crimson eyes are full of concern.
“Fine,” I murmur, trying to keep the sorrow out of my voice. The white pegasus doesn’t seem convinced, but she says nothing. That’s one thing I love about her. She always seems to know exactly how I feel, but never tries to get me to talk about it unless she thinks it will help. Often have I curled up next to her and sobbed for hour upon hour after a simple question set off a massive chain reaction of emotions. She knows very well I gain nothing from these moments, and that it’s best to just leave me when she can tell I’m upset.
“C’mon, it’s gettin’ dark. We should get back to ground level,” Rainy murmurs. A bitterly cold wind blows, and my friend’s already messy mane, purest white just like her fur, but streaked with jagged bars in all the colours of the rainbow, is ruffled even more, blown into a crazy style that is surprisingly fitting. She laughs, a crazy, high sound, the sound track to all my happiest memories after Moon’s disappearance. A smile spreads across my face, despite everything. There’s just no way you can be said with this mare around. We drop the ground in a daring dive, pulling up at the last second to land lightly on our hooves.
“We should totally do that again tomorrow,” Rainbleed gasps, her eyes shining with delight. I nod in silent agreement. “See ya, Song. And don’t you go gettin’ all upset, you hear me!” she calls as she gallops off, her tail blowing in the breeze like a banner. I watch her go until I can no longer see her, then turn to head back towards my own house. I look above me into the black sky. Clouds have covered the fairy light stars and moon. A sudden wave of weariness washes over me. I pick up my pace, hoping to get home soon. It’s chilly without the sun’s warm rays, and the lack of light makes everything seem so much colder.
Soon, the old cottage is in sight. It’s a bit run down, but its home, and right now there’s nothing I’d rather see. The thatched roof is broken in places and the white paint coating the walls is peeling away. The overly fancy gate is rusting and it creaks loudly as I gently push it open. The walls surrounding the overgrown garden are so covered in lichen and moss you can barely see the rock. I trot down the dirt path cleared through the weeds that leads to the door. Usually, you can see warm yellow light through a slight gap in the faded patterned curtains and some delicious smell is almost always leaking through the hole in the kitchen window, but tonight it may as well be uninhabited. I guess my mother must already be asleep. Of course my father won’t be there. He’s never there, not any more.
Silent as a mouse (well, more like as a mouse with hooves) I trot through the door and into the house. There isn’t a sound to be heard as I make my way slowly up the stairs and to my room, watching where I place my hooves so I do not disturb my mother. Her days are long, waking up early in the morning for work, and then working late into the night to prepare our meals for the next day, and she gets little sleep. Judging by the loud snores coming from her bedroom, I assume that this is one of her good nights, a night where she isn’t going to be kept up by stress, and I do not want to steal it from her. The poor thing works so hard, and she really deserves a break. But without Moon Dance to help her out with the cooking and my father to bring us some extra income, she’s doing double. I’d offer a helping hoof, but I can’t cook to save my life, no matter how hard my mother tries to teach me, and I’m too young to get a decent paying job.
The first thing I do upon entering my bedroom is fling myself at my bed, landing with a muffled thump on the fluffy blankets covering it. I bury under the piles of material, tucking my legs neatly underneath me and folding my wings in a way that I know will not result with me hurting them by sleeping awkwardly. I then poke my head out from underneath the blankets and rest it on my pillow, closing my eyes and letting sleep’s dark but warm hand take control.
~*~*~
I awake with a start, my heart racing, my breathing fast. My fur is wet with sweat, and half of the blankets that had covered me when I fell asleep are now on the floor. I sit up in the bed, my tangled mane dropping in front of my eyes. I look out of the window to see the clouds have now mostly cleared, revealing a perfectly circular full moon. It’s still covered in a few small wisps of cloud, and I can’t help but notice how similar it is to Moon Dance’s cutie mark. Why must everything remind me of her? My heart aches to see her again, and I suddenly know what I must do to stop the suffering. I have to find the answers to my questions. I’ve suggested the idea to Rainbleed in the past, and she warned me the answers I seek may not necessarily be what I want to here. But I don’t care. I have to know. Is she still alive? Does she miss me as much as I miss her? And most importantly, where the hay is she? Does she want to come home?
I gaze at the moon and in my imagination; I turn its round shape into my sister’s face. Deep purple, with a light sprinkling of freckles over her nose and the biggest brightest blue eyes I have ever seen. Her fringe would always drop in front of her eyes, and she would irritably push it away. Within seconds it would fall again. It was always so comical.
“I will find you, Moon,” I promise, “Where ever you are, I will find you,”