//------------------------------//
// Chapter 6: Reflection of Roses 
// Story: Ghost of a Rose 
// by Noble Thought 
//------------------------------//

	The last time Rose had been in the hospital...
 
“...blow to the head...”
 
“...accident...”
 
She shuddered and shied away from the fragment of a memory that struck her as she walked through the lobby. The last time she had been there everything had been saturated in thick mist, and the halls had been home to the ghosts of ponies who had taken no more notice of her than they did of their surroundings.
 
It hadn’t been empty like it was when she stepped out of the gynecology room. Hallways that had been bustling with nurses and doctors and other ponies going about their business in her memory were silent and still. Countertops that should have been filled with paperwork were empty, and the few forms that remained behind were neatly stacked in orderly rows of wooden trays.
 
Why, then, does it feel like there’s somepony else here? It wasn’t quite the mane-raising feeling of somepony watching her, but the not-empty feeling of a building with someone else in it.
 
Rose glanced at the clock on the wall behind the nurse’s station. The hands were stuck at both the start of night and the dawning of the day. It made no sense to her. But things in her new reality rarely seemed to do anything as polite as making sense. She looked away again.
 
“Pinkie?” Rose called out again for her friend. “Pinkie, if you can hear me, say something!” She found me here last time. Is she... going through the same thing? Her friend’s strange mood, the melancholic look, the hesitation... “Pinkie?”
 
Maybe I shouldn’t have shared so much of my memory. Maybe she just wants to move on.
 
She wandered the first floor, finding nopony else, or even a hint of anypony else—ghost or otherwise, but there was a feeling of the hospital not being all the way empty, of somepony else being there with her. Not even the stairs in the stairwell echoed as she clopped up them, her hooves chiming flatly on the metal treads sunk into the bare cement.
 
The feeling of somepony else being with her got stronger on the second floor, and her shoulder tingled as a phantom hoof stroked back and forth over her coat. Just like when I... died.
 
“Pinkie? Are you here?”
 
A muffled rustle and clunk of hooves on hardwood sounded from within a door just down the hallway. Pinkie came out of a room across from the nurse’s station and smiled weakly at her.
 
Rose stared at her. Far from the bright and happy pony she’d come to know, her mane was flat and her coat was fading. “Where were you? I thought you’d... passed on.”
 
“What?” Pinkie looked around, then cocked her head and listened. “Oh Rose, I didn’t mean to leave you alone. How... how long was I gone?”
 
“How long?” Rose shook her head. “I don’t understand. Does time even mean anything here?”
 
“It does. When you’re here, I can tell that time is passing. When you’re gone I look around, and everything changes when I look back. It’s—”  She shook her head. “It’s not important.”
 
“Not important?” Is she going insane? Or am I?  Rose closed her eyes, and the memory she’d just come from washed back through her. “After you left me in the woods... he proposed, Pinkie. And I am... was... pregnant. I wish I could have shared it with you. I was worried I’d never see you again.”
 
“I’m glad you and he are together. What little I do remember of you two, you make a wonderful couple.” Pinkie smiled wanly. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to worry you, but I need to show you something.” Pinkie paused again, looking down at the floor, then up at her again. “It’s important.”
 
In the hospital. Something important in the hospital that Pinkie needed to show her. “I’m not sure I want to know, Pinkie. What if it’s... Post. Or my dad? I... Pinkie I can’t handle that right now.”
 
“It’s not them. I promise. But... I can’t just tell you. Not after what you’ve been through. You wouldn’t believe me.” Pinkie smiled ruefully. “You may not believe me anyway, but you need to see this.”
 
Rose smiled along with her. “I remember the first time you said that to me. You were trying to help... and I ran away. But you were right. I trust you, Pinkie.”
 
Her friend flinched as though struck. “No, you shouldn’t. And I wasn’t... you were. Right, I mean.”
 
“What?” Rose shook her head and trotted to the doorway. “Why wouldn’t I trust you? You’ve been there for me since the start. Pinkie, without you I couldn’t have accepted... that I died...” The room she stepped into had a smell. It was faint and felt as distant as the sweet smell of Sweet Apple Acres from the south edge of town.
 
But it was there. Rose’s world, the lifeless dead place, had a scent. Clean, warm air and the myriad smells of distant Ponyville filled her nose. She could even smell the wet earth of a recent rain, and the air was still cool enough, with just a hint of warmth, that she could tell it was mid-spring. Her roses should be getting ready for their first market of the year, alongside the bevy of edible lilies and daisies that she sold and supplied to Daisily Days.
 
Tears blurred her vision as she took deep breath after deep breath, but the scents stirred by a weak breeze grew no stronger for her efforts. The hoof stroking her shoulder continued, but every time she checked, there was nopony there touching her.
 
“Pinkie... Why does this room smell? Why do I feel a phantom hoof? It’s—”
 
“It’s you. You are here.” Pinkie wrapped a foreleg over Rose’s neck and guided her further into the room. “Look.” She waved her other hoof at the room. “Everything missing from your house is here.”
 
The pictures on the shelf, holding memories of her life, the flowers of every variety from her garden in vases, and the rose bush visible through the open window. Everything was still and drained of color, but they had a scent—and there were distant sounds too, she realized, sounding as though there were pads over her ears.
 
“Why?” Rose pulled away from her friend and advanced further into the room, each step shaky and uncertain. Is this... real? She didn’t much care if it was. To see her memories, solid and real, where she might touch them... it was a wish granted.
 
She took a long moment looking over the pictures of her youth, all the little moments that she still remembered. The more recent, the ones she couldn’t remember... there was Post Haste... and their daughter: Raspberry Rose. I wish I could see her again. “S-sweet...” Rose closed her eyes while tears trickled, unchecked, down her cheeks. “Oh...”
 
Fragments of images, sounds and smells pounded away at her, driving home bits of memory drawn from the image she couldn’t look away from. Post Haste was murmuring in her darling Raspberry’s ear, trying to get her to sit still for the camera. Roseluck did her best to corral the youngster with her fore and hind legs, but Little Raspberry kept squirming and trying to hide from the strange pony taking their picture.
 
Roseluck gave up trying to talk the lively filly into submission, and instead groomed her ears and mane gently, something she recalled Swift saying made foals calmer—not that it helped the skittish Raspberry. Not even the photographer coming over to spend several minutes letting Raspberry explore his face had calmed her down. Just months old, she was already a hoof-ful when she wanted to be.
 
She explored his face with her nose and little hooves, growing more excited the more familiar she became with his smell and the way he looked. She wanted to get to know him better then, since he was a new pony in her herd, and mom and dad trusted him. Finally, Post rolled his eyes and held her gently still while she gnawed on his hoof. Right up until the call of “Hay!” drew her attention away and back towards the camera.
 
“My little Raspberry...” The fragment faded away, taking its place in the center of the jagged-edged void, empty space all around; but it belonged there. She wanted so much to fill in everything else around it. “I love you so much.”
 
“There’s more.” Pinkie pointed a hoof at the door.
 
Brushing away her tears, Rose walked to the door in a daze, her thoughts worse than a jumbled mess.
 
She stared, unseeing, for a long time at a clipboard hung on a hook just inside. It was a list of names: family, and friends close enough to her they might as well be family. Missing from the list, and conspicuous for its absence, was her dad. “Pinkie... why isn’t my dad’s name on the list? Where is Lucky Day?”
 
“I...” Pinkie shook her head. “I have no idea. Look at the top.”
 
At the top... “What does this mean? Patient name: Roseluck. Patient? I’m not a patient!” The line made no sense. “I’m dead! I... died. Right there!” She pointed a hoof at the bed and stopped, staring. She could see a faint after-image laying on the bed. “Pinkie, what’s going on? I smell things. I hear things. I see... is that me? Why now? Why—”
 
“You’re here.” Pinkie sat beside her and brushed her cheek against Rose’s neck. “You never died. I... thought you were dead too. I’m sorry, but I made a grave mistake.”
 
“Not... not dead? How?” Rose jerked away, staring at the image on the bed, at once familiar and foreign. She advanced on it, feeling the touch grow stronger on her shoulder. The same spot on the image laying in the bed grew and brightened. “HOW? I felt my heart stop!”
 
“You’re in a hospital. Do you really think they would let you go without a fight?” Pinkie nodded to the row of pictures bookended by flowers. “Especially your family?”
 
“It was all... what? A lie? A horrible dream? The... the memories...” They can’t be lies! “Where am I? Why can’t I go back to them? Why—” Rose choked on the questions that she couldn’t answer. Why can’t I wake up, then? Why is the world still dead? Why... did this happen?
 
“Your memories aren’t a lie. Your family loves you. Look at the pictures again. Tell me they wouldn’t do anything to keep you in their lives.” Pinkie looked away. “Even Pinkie would do anything.”
 
Rose turned aside from watching the faint image of her body, and turned back to the shelf with the pictures. Can I trust them? Can I trust anything here? Can I trust her? she cast a sidelong look at Pinkie, then turned back to the shelf.
 
She stared at the pictures sitting on the shelf. Each one of them had a place in her heart. Each one of them touched on a jagged shard of memory pricking her thoughts. Even if they’re all a lie... “They’re beautiful... You were there for my wedding. You were there for her first birthday.” Rose leaned harder against Pinkie. “I remember you being there.” Rose took a deep breath. Everything felt so uncertain and unreal, and she half expected the ground under her hooves to turn to quicksand. “What happened to us?”
 
“I’m where I belong.  What happened to you?” Pinkie stood up and stepped away from her. “You don’t remember me. You remember Pinkie.”
 
“But you’re—”
 
“A disaster. A mistake.” The mare who claimed she wasn’t Pinkie looked around at the hospital room. “I was never your friend.”
 
“What are you saying?”
 
“I’m not Pinkie! I never was.” She shuddered and walked to the window. “I dreamed I was... I was almost—” she shook her head. “Not happy. Content, maybe, out there, seeing my friends continue their lives from this side. The little signs... the ones that said Pinkie was still there... I could ignore them. ‘Oh girls... you don’t have to keep doing that in my memory.’”
 
She snorted. “I thought as long as my friends were still going... I could be happy for them.” She turned back to Roseluck. “Then you came along. You, with memories of Pinkie that were past what I remembered. You were the mirror that revealed my lie.”
 
“That doesn’t make any—” The mirror Pinkies. “You’re... a copy? One of those—”
 
“Mistakes.”
 
“—ponies.” Rose prodded Pinkie. “You’re not a mistake. Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you are Pinkie, and that—”
 
“No, Rose. I know. I am the mistake. But I had to show this to you. You shouldn’t be here. You should be with them.” Pinkie nodded at the pictures.
 
They called to her. As did the presence making itself known on the bed, growing stronger the longer the gentle stroking on her shoulder continued. She felt phantom lips brush her cheek.
 
Post Haste’s voice, barely a whisper, came to her: “Rose. We’re going home for the day. We love you. Come back to us... please.”
 
“Daddy, please? Up.” A stalled heartbeat later, and a smaller muzzle shoved against the back of her neck. “Wake up soon, mommy!”
 
“Raspberry!” The tingle on the back of her neck faded away. Rose whipped her head around to follow the sound of hooves on the floor, then dove after them. “Wait! I’m still here! Please...” Come back!
 
She caught nothing.
 
Tears poured down her cheeks as she fell to her side in the middle of the floor.  Her husband and daughter weren’t there. She curled up as the sound of their hooves on the wooden floor petered off and paused, farther away. There was the sound of a door opening and closing... then she was alone again in the near-silence, with the sound of her gasping sobs to keep her company, and the fragments of memory their voices stirred in her mind pricking at her.
 
Birds chirped in the distance, muffled, and a fresh breeze stirred about the scents of antiseptic and Ponyville before it died away again. The sound of birds remained, as did the distant sound of Ponyville’s bell-tower ringing in the noon hour.
 
Rose curled up tighter, as though she could hold close the memory of her daughter’s voice and her warm little muzzle on her neck, or the feeling of her husband’s lips on her cheek. What she felt at the core of her being was a spark of hope, bright and hopeful against the backdrop of the world she was trapped in.
 
Her sobbing faded away as the spark grew brighter.
 
“Rose?” Pinkie’s voice sounded almost in her ear, and a hoof on Rose’s shoulder brought her back to the present. “Go back to them. They’re waiting.”
 
“When...” Rose pushed herself up into Pinkie’s embrace, grief and the hole in her memories threatening to overtake her again. “When did Raspberry learn to talk? When was she born? I can’t remember!”
 
“I don’t know either.” Pinkie leaned back to hold a sobbing Roseluck with both forelegs, her voice dropping to a soothing coo. “Shh. Shh...” She rocked back and forth slowly while birds sang in the distance. “You need to go back.”
 
Rose nodded. To hold her daughter again... to be with her husband...
 
“I want to go back,” Rose said softly. She pushed Pinkie away gently and drew herself towards the bed. The first step was easy, and her mind filled with fragmented visions of her family. She could build new memories. She could learn what had gone before.
 
Then the pain hit. It banished the fragments in a haze of ache that spread from her ear, across the left side of her face and shot down her jaw. Her vision dimmed as she took another step.
 
I can do this! Rose pushed forward as the ache grew into agony ripping down from her ear and spreading through her neck.
 
The next step briefly robbed her of sight. Darkness and a heavy weight settled over her muzzle for a moment before the dim world returned. Her heart hammered in her chest painfully.
 
Real! The vision had been real. She surged forward, eagerness and pain warring in her head. Her left foreleg crumpled under the assault of fire coursing through her, and the bed dimmed in her vision, then vanished in a spreading wash of black.
 



 
Missing memories nagged at her, and the hole in her mind pulsed like an open wound, a physical and mental pain. Titillating fragments of thoughts and voices, of sights and sounds were all that were left of the memories of Raspberry Rose and her life married to Post Haste.
 
She lay on her side, the pain receding slowly as her breathing slowed. A tinny alarm sounded in her ears, fading away as the door opened and the sound of hooves grew louder.
 
“Get the crash cart ready,” a voice said. “She could be going into…”
 
Sound faded, then came back.
 
“Oh, sweetie… you scared us.”
 
Rose recognized the voice. “Redheart?” She wasn’t sure if she spoke it or not. A fuzzy feeling floated through her head, fogging her perceptions. She couldn’t feel her body.
 
“What a relief,” the voice said loudly. “Stand down the cart.” The voice quieted down again. “Just a bit of a spike in your heart rate. Dr. Axon will be by shortly to have a look at you.” A hoof stroked down her cheek, and the sound of a pen scribbling on paper sounded close to her ear, followed by a clatter. “Take it easy, okay?”
 
She blinked as the darkness faded from her vision. She stared up at face staring back down at her, then at the bed. So close, and yet so far away. Missing memories formed a moat between her and her body. A memory slid through her mind again.
 
“...blow to the head…”
 
“Rose?” Pinkie asked, waving a hoof in front of her eyes. “What happened?”
 
“I’ve been injured,” Rose said. “I’m…” What?
 
Pinkie gave her an exasperated look, clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Of course you were. Why else would you be in a hospital?” She stepped back, offering a hoof to Rose. “But what happened? You just fell over before you got to the bed.”
 
“I… don’t know.”
 
“Can you try again? You need to get back to them.”
 
“I can’t. I think…” Rose shook her head, dizziness fading more slowly as she pulled herself up with Pinkie’s help. N-not yet.” Rose pushed herself away and started for the door.  
 
“You have to go back. She needs her mother, and he needs his wife.” Pinkie followed her. “What if all of them come back when you leave here?”
 
“I don’t think I can,” Rose said quietly, looking back at the bed. Even thinking about attempting it again shot a streak of pain from her left ear all the way down to her forelegs.
 
Pinkie paused and shook her head. “I...” she wilted and backed up a step.
 
“Even if I succeeded, what if I don’t remember? What if I’m… damaged? What if I’m being given this chance? I can’t go back knowing I might have given up this one, rare chance to…” Rose shook her head. “Heal? Remember?.” Rose sniffed and looked back at the bed, where the faint impression of her body laying in the middle faded in and out as another breeze stirred the background smells to fresh intensity. “I need to remember her. I need to remember him. I want to remember everything. I want to cherish every moment of our lives together. But, most of all, I don’t want to be a burden.”
 
“Of course you don’t. But what of them? They’re missing their mother and wife right now.”
 
Rose shook her head. “They are, and I... Celestia only knows how much I want to be with them right now.” She sat up straighter. “But...” she took a deep breath. “But I don’t want him to worry that I can’t take care of myself, remember something, or worry about talking to me, knowing that there are things I can’t remember. I want to be able to take care of Raspberry. I don’t want her to worry that her mother can’t remember her first birthday, her first steps, her first word. I need to remember those things for her.”
 
“Why? Isn’t it more important to—”
 
“I’m her mother. Mothers are supposed to be able to take care of their daughters, and remember the most important moments in their children’s lives.”
 
“What if this is your only chance, though? What if you die before you can remember everything?”
 
Rose flinched, and nodded. “It’s possible.” She stared at the bed, and a dull ache awoke in her ear, spreading down her jaw and to her forelegs. She thought about trying again, and the dim echo of agony struck through her mind. She shuddered, foreleg curling against her chest automatically.
 
The pain faded again, and she shook her head. “I could die if I tried to go back now, too. I think I almost did.” A chill of certainty shot through her as she said it. “Something happened to me that almost killed me. Or maybe it did, and all this is…” Rose stuffed the fear back into the dark recesses of her mind, and pushed past it. “I just know something happened to me. I have never felt that much pain in my life.”
 
Pinkie looked away, shaking her head. “Please…”
 
“I’m sorry. I will risk the roses. I know roses.” Rose turned back to the door and, taking a deep breath, brushed by Pinkie, who didn’t try to stop her. She stopped before she left the room. “I’m going to remember everything I can, and hope that is what I need. You can help me or you can go your own way.” Rose smiled back at Pinkie. Or whatever... whoever she is. “I won’t drag you along. You’ve been a friend to me, and I will still remember you that way. I promised.”
 
“Why?” Pinkie shrank in on herself further. “Why would you still call me a friend if I left you? You know what I am.”
 
“Because I know what you are.”
 
“I do too.” Pinkie shook her head. “I’m a fraud.”
 
Rose smiled and turned around to lift Pinkie’s chin with a gentle hoof. “You’re a friend.”
 



 
Rose looked up from the memory and its petals scented with the smell of clean cloth and the slightly metallic aroma of hot starch.
 
“Don’t worry.” Pinkie sat down, looking away from her. “I’m not going to leave.”
 
“I’m not holding you here. I... just think you would be happier if you stayed with me. I know I’m happier, knowing I’m not alone.”
 
Pinkie’s smile returned, but it seemed fragile to Rose. “But you’re not alone. You’re not even dead! You’re just... here.” She waved a hoof around at the empty space in front of the hospital. The smile faded, and Rose watched Pinkie’s eyes track something unseen.
 
Can she still see them? Rose tried to follow whatever it was that Pinkie saw, but she could see nothing out of the ordinary. She shook herself and stared up at the window with the large planter hanging outside. “What if what’s in that room is a lie? What if the gravestone is the truth? What if it’s a temptation?” Rose shook her head. “I hope it’s not. Oh, sweet stars I hope it’s not.”
 
“It’s not a lie. I—”
 
Rose snorted. “If you say you’re the lie one more time... so help me, Celestia...”
 
“Sorry. It’s true.”
 
“Horsefeathers.” Rose narrowed her eyes at Pinkie. Don’t get mad at her. She’s just... lost. Like I was. She sighed and closed her eyes. “A lie couldn’t have supported me through grief, or been there to hold me close when I first thought...”
 
“I’ll wait here.” Pinkie prodded the rose with a hoof, then smiled. “Go remember your life.”
 



 
“It looks... awfully tight on her.” Swift Delivery stepped up to the fitting stand and reached out to touch the wrinkled band of material sagging around Rose’s belly. “Shouldn’t it be... looser?”
 
“Assuming she is carrying an earth pony foal, then it shouldn’t be.” Rarity raised her glasses to settle on the base of her horn. “Of course, if it turns out that it’s a pegasus—”
 
Swift’s eyes lit up.
 
“—or a unicorn, then I can make adjustments. It would have been interesting if it had been twins, like the Cakes.” Rarity smiled. “Now that would have been an interesting wedding to plan around a pregnancy.”
 
Rose smiled, glancing at Swift. “I’m pretty sure she’s an earth pony, and just one. Dr. Cure said that the foal was developing nicely, and that her aura was showing distinctly earth pony tones.”
 
“That’s lovely to hear, Roseluck.” Rarity’s horn glowed as she undid the fasteners on the dress. “There’s just a few alterations I need to make to be ready, and I’ll want you to come back in next week for a second fitting.”
 
Swift stayed silent until Rarity trotted off with the dress. “A filly? You and Post must be so happy.”
 
“I am, but I haven’t had a chance to tell Post yet. I just found out this morning before I met you here.”
 
“Oh?” The smile on Swift’s face grew.
 
“Yes. Look, Swift...” Yes, I told you first. Why do you have to look so smug about it? Rose turned away from the smile and pushed aside the annoyance. “I know that we haven’t exactly gotten along since I started seeing your son, but I have been making an effort the last month.”
 
“I noticed. Thank you, Rose. That means a lot to me. Now, for the foal shower—” It was Swift’s turn to look aside and coughed out a short laugh. “Sorry. It’s hard for me to let go. Would you like my help with planning? It’s okay if you don’t.”
 
“Can we talk about it over lunch?”
 
“I’m buying.”
 



 
All around them, the marketplace was bustling with the noise and smells of the day. Produce, goods, and bits changed hooves at a rapid clip while the warm Marketday afternoon sun beat down overhead, hinting at more heat to come as summer wound up.
 
“Do you have any names in mind?” Swift asked over the remains of a Double Daisy Daze salad with extra cucumber strips that Swift kept pushing to the side.
 
“I do, yes. Post and I have talked. He came up with colt names, and I came up with the filly.” Rose stared down at the devastated remnants of her own salad, then at the sparse remains of Swift’s. “It comes down to her coat, really. Post and I chose to continue my mother’s name, though. She’ll be a Rose, whatever else is in her name.”
 
“That’s...” Swift shook her head. “I sometimes feel like you don’t want me around because of your mother.”
 
Rose blinked. “What? Where did that—” she took a deep breath and let it back out. “Look, Swift... we haven’t talked about—”
 
“It’s not important.”
 
“No.” What Rose needed to say next stuck in her throat. She swallowed and reached up to push the bowl across the table. “It is important. It’s something that Post has been trying to get me to admit, and I... I owe you an explanation.”
 
Instead of saying anything, as Rose expected, Swift waited.
 
“You’re not my mother,” Rose said softly.
 
“No, I’m not. But I would like—”
 
“But it feels like, when you were trying to push your way in and do things for us...”
 
“Oh.” Realization dawned in Swift’s eyes, and she looked away. “Oh dear.”
 
Rose looked away as she pounded the spike into Swift’s heart. “It felt like you were taking the place she should have had in my life.”
 
Swift said nothing.
 
Rose looked at her—watched as Swift’s face showed her forty-four years, the lines on her muzzle deepened, and the smile, ever-present before, slipped away while tears gathered and dripped down her cheeks. The words were already said, and Rose wasn’t sure if she would take them back... even if she could.
 
“Swift... I...” Rose’s mind churned, and she started to say half a dozen things, but finally sank down and stared at the bowl of uneaten cucumber sticks on Swift’s side of the table. Why can’t I just apologize?
 
Finally, Swift pushed the bowl towards her and flashed a bright smile that just barely hid the pain underneath. “I just wanted...” She stood and swept a wing around to stroke Rose’s shoulder. “I never wanted to take her place. I wanted to help you with the things she would have.”
 
“And you didn’t—” Rose sucked in a breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I... thank you. Thank you for being there, Swift.” She ducked her head to brush her cheek against the soft edge of Swift’s wing. “I do appreciate all the help you’ve been. And... it has been easier, these last few weeks.”
 
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t think it would hurt you.” She smiled again and lifted her wing to gently cup Rose’s cheek. “As long as we’re both being honest, you were pushing me out of my son’s life.” Swift shook her head. “I know you didn’t mean to... but that’s what it was.”
 
“I know... Post told me you two were very close. I’m—”
 
“I’m not sorry... not that you came into his life. You make him happy and, as much as it hurt to be kept out of his life, out of your lives, it made me happy to see his heart content.” Swift stood up and walked around the table to put a hoof on Rose’s shoulder while the extended wing slid over her back and pulled her close. “I may not be your mother, but I hope you don’t mind if I treat you like a daughter.” She clucked her tongue when Rose opened her mouth. “Not to take her place, but to be there for you.”
 
“I... I can accept that.” Turning, Rose leaned into Swift’s embrace and smiled against the older mare’s neck. “Being honest... I would have been lost without your help.”
 
Swift’s wing pulled her closer. “Thank you, Rose. I promise I’ll try to be a little less pushy.”
 
The significance of try didn’t pass unnoticed. If it’s the best you can do, then that’s okay. I’ll do my best to be okay with it.
 
Meanwhile, the bowl sat, tempting Rose with its contents.
 
“Go ahead dear. I ordered them for you,” Swift said, leaning back and nudging the bowl closer. “I know you like cucumber, even if it’s not on your diet. A new mother must indulge herself occasionally. You’ll go crazy otherwise.”
 
The other patrons fell quiet as the sunlight faded and the light breeze died away. The color drained away from the cafe as the memory of making up with her future mother-in-law drifted away to fill another hole in her memories. The only thing that stayed with her was the warmth of a pony, holding her close.
 
Pinkie sat where Swift had been, a foreleg over Rose’s neck. The pink pony was trembling, but stayed quiet.
 
“Pinkie?”
 
“Not Pinkie.”
 
“Stop that. You’re...” The reassurance sputtered away on Rose’s lips. What if she is the real Pinkie, and the one out there is the fake one?
 
“I’m not...” Not Pinkie shook her head. “I’m not sure who I am.”
 
“Will you at least admit that you’re a friend?”
 
Pinkie smiled. “I can do that.” Her smile wavered, and she pointed at the rose laying on the table beside them. “Thank you, but you still have to get back to your family.”
 



 
The end of Spring flickered by with a rush of blooming green, the rush of warm winds, and warmer rains as regular as the cycle of seasons. The days grew longer, hotter, and more tedious as summer wore on.
 
Rose’s garden flourished under her touch, and she was able to bring more flowers to market than any prior year. At times, when tending to her flowers and coaxing them to grow anew after being clipped, she would have sworn she could feel her daughter’s fledgling magic flowing through her and into the earth.
 
Sometimes, she was convinced it was just a feeling. But other times she could feel her daughter reaching out for the comforting flow of life swirling under her hooves.
 
“Instinct,” her father said, wheezing faintly while he sat with her under the shade of an umbrella. “Your mother said you did it too, about this time. She’s going to be a great gardener. Just like her mother.”
 
“Can I get you something to drink? It’s awfully hot today and the nurse—”
 
“Would have me sitting inside, sucking on an ice cube while a fan kept me cool and comfortable.” He smiled at her and tapped the ground with a hoof. “I was never the gardener your mother was, but there’s something about feeling the ground being tended by you. It brings back memories. I’d rather be hot and uncomfortable and remember when she was still here than be cool, comfortable and lonely.”
 
“Dad... I want you to be here while she’s growing up, so that she can remember her granddad.”
 
“I do too.” He smiled and poked a hoof at the ground. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m good and ready. You just tend your garden, and I’ll keep you company.”
 
Rose smiled, closed her eyes, and bent her head. All around her, she felt the life of her garden greeting her as she called out to it. The familiar plants, close enough for her to call them friend, sent out joyous feelers of magic back to her, touching her.
 
Through her, they greeted the tiny spark of her daughter’s magic that was almost indistinguishable from her own—at least to Rose. Another pony, one more attuned to the lives of the warm blooded creatures of the world, might have been able to tell them apart.
 
Eyes still closed, Rose stood and walked along the barren paths, letting the empty space guide her steps as she reached out to touch the lilies, daisies and...
 
“Oh. Who are you?” A tiny patch of new life was creeping in from the edge of an almost empty plot, unfamiliar to her. She opened her eyes to look at the quarter of earth where the tiny bit of life was peeking at her.
 
Underneath a bit of mulch, a little white flower and a jagged green leaf were struggling to rise into the sunlight.
 
“Little raspberry, what are you doing here? I don’t...”
 
Her daughter’s magical spark, glowing in her womb, reached out strongly enough for Roseluck to feel it distinctly against the background thrum of magic. The tendril threaded through the ground towards the little patch of life growing in the corner, just as weak as she. Following her daughter’s urging, Rose reached out to brush off the bit of mulched wood.
 
Her daughter’s magic curled around the raspberry bush, then she felt both her daughter and the little plant settle back to quiet calm.
 
Wonder bearing her heart aloft, Rose sat back and pressed her hooves to her belly. “Raspberry?” Her daughter’s magic was quiet again, but still there and glowing a little brighter in her mind’s eye. “Is that who you are? Raspberry Rose?”
 
“It’s a beautiful name,” Lucky Day said from behind her. “It looks like she is her mother’s daughter.” He smiled at her, but Rose could see he was breathing hard already. “You reached out the same way, your mother said, after a hailstorm flattened a rose bush. All but one little bud died. The lucky rose.” He paused, the ever-present wheeze in his voice becoming more prominent, and coughed, wincing, then tapped his chest before continuing. “We decided on your name that night.”
 
“I thought she named me after you and her mother.”
 
“You were going to be Rosy Day,” he chuckled. “After that... well, Roseluck sounded better anyway.”
 
“I...” Memory swept through her: a rainy day, her mother making stew while Roseluck stared outside at the garden battered by wind and rain. She heard her mother’s voice again, faintly, as she settled down beside her at the window and told her the story.
 
“I remember. She told me, once. The year mom went to Canterlot to help with the flowers for the Summer Sun celebration. I had to stay behind because I had the pony pox... then mom... and you...” Rose reached up to scrub at her cheek and shook the memory off. “Why did I forget?”
 
“Who knows, sweetie.” Her dad sat down beside her. “It was a long time ago. You were just a filly, then.” He paused to catch his breath and reached up to touch her cheek. “I remember you came down with the pony pox the week after. Maybe you forgot it while you were sick.”
 
Almost on cue, he started coughing again. Rose held him steady until the spell passed. “I wish you would take mind of the heat. It can’t be good for your lungs.”
 
“Don’t worry, sweetie. The warm day helps sometimes. Feels good to have the sun beat down on this old hide.”
 
“Dad, you’re not old.”
 
He let himself be led back to the shade of the umbrella. “I’m old enough.” He paused again to catch his breath. “Don’t you worry about me. Worry about your fiance, your wedding, and your daughter.” He paused, and his smile grew. “I will be there to see her. I promise.”
 
The heat of the sun faded away with her father’s smile, and color fled the silence descending heavily around her. The memory settled into place amid a rush of days and weeks of spending time with Post Haste, her father and Swift Delivery, preparing and planning for the wedding, and bearing the concerns that came with bearing a foal.
 
The little raspberry plant grew and grew as her daughter did, resting in the safety of Rose’s womb. The days grew shorter again as the Summer Sun celebration passed without incident for once.
 
When the rush of memory faded, Rose opened her eyes. A lively garden greeted her. Flowers were blooming again; daisies, lilies, and her rose bushes were all bouncing back. Weeds stood too close to them still, but they were less evident than she remembered the last time she had been there... when the fog had made the world seem distant and unimportant.
 
There was even a little color creeping its way back into the world.
 
Maybe it’s just my heart. I... the hospital room swept back through her mind, the pictures and flowers... her husband’s voice.
 
Raspberry’s voice.
 
Rose stood and turned to face the scent that tugged at her nose. “I’m coming. I promise.”
 
Pinkie sat on the porch, looking down at the rose laying on the top steps. She smiled as Rose touched the stem with a hoof. “Go on.”
 
Rose ducked her head and took a deep breath, filling her nose with the smells of late summer and the smell of fresh frosting.
 



 
“Hey, Rose! I’m so glad I made it back in time for your wedding. You have no idea how...” Pinkie paused and looked around. “Oh, say, this would be a great memory. Will ya remember it for me, huh? Please! Please say you will!”
 
“Of course, Pinkie. You make everything unforgettable,” Rose said, struggling to hold back a laugh.
 
“Pinkie Pie! Honestly, my dear, you really need to stop bursting in like that.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky that I finished the modifications already!” She huffed and stepped back from the dress stand, nodding at Rose. “Go ahead and see how that feels.”
 
Rose stepped down, paying attention to the way the cloth tugged at her neck and the way it hugged her ankles. Where before, it had pinched or strained around swollen ankles and a tender neck, it glided more smoothly, but felt almost loose.
 
“It feels much better. I can move.” She spun quickly, watching the white frill float along behind her like a cloud. “It’s gorgeous, Rarity. Thank you so much for taking the time to make sure—”
 
“Rose, dear. I’m happy to make these little finicky changes.” Rarity smiled and patted the floating train. “It’s for your special day, the day every mare dreams of.”
 
“Not me!” Pinkie bounded up to them with a laugh. “I dream of parties. And my friends. And parties with my friends!”
 
Rose giggled. “What about Cheese, Pinkie? Isn’t he your special somepony now?”
 
“Pft. ‘Course he is! I just hafta find the best way to break it to him.”
 
Rarity quirked an eyebrow and looked up over Rose’s back. “It’s not going to be a party, is it?”
 
“Gosh, no. He’d feel that coming for days. You can’t fool the Cheesie sense.” Pinkie rolled her eyes.
 
“Maybe you would like for him to feel it coming.”
 
Rose stepped out from between the two friends as they argued over the merits of different methods of letting a special somepony know they were a special somepony.
 
She stifled her giggles and stood in front of the half circle of mirrors set in a corner of the boutique. With a little imagination, she could see herself walking down the lane with her father and Swift Delivery between her and Post Haste while all about her guests plied their magic into the ground.
 
They stood for a moment, staring at each other across the aisle—Post Haste, handsome in the finest stallion’s tuxedo they could afford from Canterlot, and Roseluck, in a dress made just for her by Rarity. The dream would soon come true...
 
Behind her, the conversation faded away. The imaginary vision of her wedding day dimmed and vanished, leaving her standing in a silent room and staring at mirrors that reflected... nothing.
 
She was alone again.
 
Not even alone. It was as though she had ceased to exist. She reached out to touch the mirror. Cold glass, hard and unyielding, met her hoof. While she stared, Pinkie’s reflection came into view, and Rose’s reflection stayed invisible.
 
“What...?” Rose looked between Pinkie and the mirror; in the mirror, Pinkie’s mane was as bouncy and bubbly as it had been in her memory. But in the silence, Pinkie’s mane was flat. “Pinkie... why is the mirror only showing you?”
 
“Every mirror shows the same thing: lies. It shows me who I am not, but also what I am.” She smiled, and shook her head. “It shows me alone. I think that’s when I was happier—alone and believing what I wanted to believe. Not...” She turned and swiped a hoof across the floor, picking up the rose she sat by.
 
“Pinkie...”
 
“Mirror. Call me Mirror. It’s what I am.” She held up the rose, her smile wavering as she took a deep breath. “This smells like a beautiful memory.”
 
“Mirror, please stop. You’re not a lie—you’re a friend.” Rose took a step towards her friend, holding out a hoof, “Please just give me the—”
 
Mirror pressed the rose against Roseluck’s nose.
 
She inhaled sharply, and the smell of a lake and apples on a summer afternoon filled her mind. The rushing thump of her heartbeat in the silent boutique vanished in the distant murmur of waves on a shore, and the closer murmur of small talk between friends.
 



 
“Are you ready?” Swift Delivery asked, peering around the cloth divide into the dressing area.
 
Rose smiled at her soon-to-be mother-in-law. “Almost. Is Post ready?” Rarity had just finished helping her into the dress again. Two weeks had passed since her last fitting, and the minor adjustments Rarity had made still fit, though more snugly than before.
 
“He is. The guests are all seated, and your bridesmares are—”
 
“We’re ready to go!” Pinkie stuck her head in under Swift’s, a broad smile stretching from ear to ear. “This is gonna be so amazing! Like the most awesomest, most amazing wedding ever!”
 
“I should think so! Thank you for helping plan it, Pinkie. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
 
“You are so welcome! I’m just sorry I had to miss out on the last little bits of it. But...”
 
“I know. Cheese Sandwich is important to you, too. I do understand.”
 
Swift rolled her eyes and pulled Pinkie back by her mane. “Come on, dear. Rose has to finish get dressed.”
 
“Indeed she does!” Rarity came back into the dressing area with the veil and the train, freshly re-enchanted to float above the ground. “Shoo, both of you, so I can get the bride ready.”
 



 
The earth underneath her feet hummed with the magic of her friends and relatives, the earth pony ones at least, as they prepared the ground for the ceremony. Her part was simple. Walk down the aisle, focusing the power gifted to her into the seeds spread all around.
 
“Don’t look so nervous. You’ll do fine.” Her father said, standing beside her as she waited for the music to start. “Just do what you do every day in your garden.”
 
But it was so much more than her own magic. All settled into the earth, unfocused and waiting for her. “I’ve been practicing. It’s just...” So much more than what just Post can do.
 
“Trust in the earth. Trust in him.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Trust in yourself.”
 
The music started, a mix of birds and instruments heralding the arrival of the head of the ceremony, Mayor Mare.
 
Not yet. Wait for the...
 
The music quieted again for just a moment, and the curtains lifted aside from where she stood, waiting with her father. Across the way, Post Haste stood beside his mother, the same look of stunned anticipation on his face that she fancied was on hers.
 
One step at a time.
 
Magic lapped at her hooves and coiled up her legs, filling her heart with the pride and joy of those giving the gift to the earth. With each step, she could feel the tiny seeds quivering in anticipation, surrounded by magic that had no purpose until she gave it.
 
By the third step, Rose was back in control, and her daughter had woken to join her unfocused thread of magic to the tumult thrumming through the ground, mimicking her mother. Poste Haste, walking on the other side of her father and Swift, held his head high and did not do more than flick his eyes at her. His strand of magic called to her, its familiar warmth twining with hers as she guided his effort.
 
With every stride, she pushed out her love and adoration for Post, for her father, and for everypony there to watch her get married. Her magic encouraged the seeds to sprout, take root and bloom in a ripple of color and a rising tapestry of rich scents spreading through the gathered ponies.
 
By the time they reached the stand where they would say their vows, a new meadow of flowers of all colors had bloomed around the guests. The edges continued to ripple outwards as her will pushed farther and farther to find new seeds.
 
A few acorns, hidden in the tall grass around the carefully trimmed center, sprouted into new trees. They were saplings still, but grew swiftly even after Rose pulled back her magic and let the remnants of the gift she had been given seep back into the earth as thanks.
 
Rose stopped, facing Post while her stomach churned, and joy bubbled up to trickle down her cheeks. He was more composed, though she could see his eyes shimmering, and she was grateful for the misty veil that would hide the tears.
 
“Earth, unicorn, pegasus. Ponies,” Mayor Mare intoned, her back to them, speaking over the creak of the new trees reaching for the sky. “We are gathered here today to witness the coming together of two of our own in wedded harmony.” Everypony sat as the mayor began the ceremony, and Mayor Mare waited patiently for the wedding party to get in position. In the distance, clouds guided by unseen, pegasus-controlled winds began to drift in.
 
Rose’s bridesmares and Post’s groomstallions stood arrayed around the small platform where she and Post stood facing each other. The Mayor stood closest to the gathering. Her father stood at the head of the stallions, and Swift Delivery stood at the head of the mares.
 
“As we all live in harmony with the world around us, and with each other, we are reminded of that unity with every rainshower...”
 
On cue, the clouds began to pour down as they advanced, drenching the field behind the podium, and a pair of pegasi peeked over the edge to look down on the crowd below. Bright Eyes waved a wing, only to be pulled back by Thunderlane.
 
Rose fought to hold back a giggle.
 
Mayor Mare’s ears flicked backwards briefly, but she continued without skipping a beat, “And with every flower that blooms afterwards...”
 
Rose, standing on the platform, couldn’t feel the outpouring of magic the guests pushed into the wet grass, or her wedding entourage’s directing of it. She could only watch as the field beyond the wedding arch filled with a spreading blanket of freshly seeded flowers mixed with cereal grains.
 
“We are reminded that harmony is everywhere. But uncertainty remains.” On cue, again, the clouds still drifting close to the lake let loose an ominous rumble, and a flash of lightning pranced over the bottom of the cloud, lighting up the day. In response to the threatened storm the four stallions and four mares fanned out, led by the elder mother and father, and stepped to stand even with the bride and groom to face the stormclouds together.
 
“Roseluck, Post Haste, and their friends and family have come together in harmony to help this new couple face that uncertainty.” Mayor Mare waved her hoof to encompass the small gathering. “With your help, this new family will grow and add to the harmony of our community.”
 
The distant thrum of magic slid up the wooden platform and buzzed against Rose’s hooves. The flower field grew wilder yet as the rain was pushed aside by the pegasi still guiding the clouds. Bright sunlight shone down through the early afternoon sky, and a cooling breeze carried with it the smell of fresh rain, wet grain, and a delicious selection of flowers.
 
“Every sunny day, they will face together. As will they face every cloudy day.” The mayor turned to face the crowd. “Their family, and their friends, will stand with them.”
 
A smattering of hoof stamps greeted her, growing louder as the wedding entourage finished their ritual duties, and filed back around the platform to stand behind Roseluck and Post Haste once more. Mayor Mare waited until they were all settled again, and Rose’s father had stopped coughing, before she brought the ceremony to its culmination.
 
“We are here to witness their vows, and give them the gifts of love, friendship, and happiness that will see them on their way to a beautiful life.” She turned to them at last, smiling. “Roseluck, Post Haste. You may speak your vows.”
 
Roseluck stared into Post’s eyes as the words for her vows, practiced and recited, swirled through her mind. He mouthed a countdown, and she nodded as he reached one. As one, they began to recite their vows, voices mingling.
 
“In health and in sickness, I will tend to you. In times of peace and times of turmoil, I will protect you. In times of good harvest and poor, I will feed you. In the light of the sun and the glow of the moon, I will be beside you. In the sight of the Sisters two, may my vows hold true.”
 
Mayor Mare smiled. “With the power vested in me by the Solar and Lunar courts, I now pronounce you Mare and Stallion. May your lives be full of joys, and the sorrows pass swiftly.”
 
The memory faded into the memory of a kiss, her first as a married mare. She closed her eyes against the faded world, seeking the warmth of that kiss in her memory. Soon...
 
“I’m happy for you. Those vows... I wish I could have been there.” Mirror’s voice intruded on her thoughts, bringing Rose back to the grey world in the middle of an empty field on the edge of the lake. The rushing sound of waves lapping at the shore was gone, leaving only the sound of her breathing, and Mirror’s voice. “You were beautiful in your wedding dress.”
 
“But you—” Rose clicked her mouth shut, remembering the picture. Of course she knows what I looked like. Mirror didn’t even flinch at her lapse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I wish...” I wish I knew what to say... She shook her head and sat down. “What happens to you? When I leave.” I will. I will find a way.
 
Mirror shrugged, looking down at a bright rose laying amid the tall grasses. “I don’t matter. But you’ll be back with them soon, and I can have my solitude back.”
 
“Your solitude? Why do you want to be alone? I thought... when I thought I was dead, you seemed happier to be with me.” Rose closed her eyes and called back the memory of the gathering of friends and family. “I can’t imagine why—” Rose opened her eyes to the feeling of cool petals on her lips. Mirror had the rose pressed to her lips, and the scent of a fireplace and the sound of the wind tugged at her mind. “Wait!”
 
Mirror shook her head and hobbled a step closer, until she was almost nose to nose with Roseluck. “You need to go back to them. I’m sorry I have to do this, but you can’t wait any longer.”
 
Rose jerked her head back, but Mirror followed her with the rose. She held her breath, then raised her forelegs to push the rose away. Mirror shoved her back with one hoof.  Overbalanced, Roseluck fell to her back and the breath she’d been holding rushed out with a pained wheeze.
 
Mirror was there in an instant, pressing the rose against Roseluck’s nose before she could get her breath back. “Don’t fight it! Please, just remember.”
 
Her lungs burned, aching with the need to breath. Rose tried to move her head away, but the flower followed her nose unerringly. She gasped in a deep breath, and the memory filled her mouth and nose: the taste of fine apple cider, the scent of a hearth warmed by fire, and a meal cooked with love.
 
Mirror’s voice chased her into the memory. “Please remember...”
 



 
“Happy Hearth’s Warming!” Post Haste cried, standing on a chair and lifting a flagon of cider to toast the guests gathered in their living room.
 
Rose stood next to him, raising her mug of non-alcoholic cider to join in the toast. “Huzzah!”
 
Lilly, Daisy, Swift Delivery, and Lucky Day sat together in front of the fireplace, roasting their rumps in the crackling heat. Goldie was spending that Hearth’s Warming with Applejack, and others of her friends were spending it with their loved ones.
 
“Huzzah!” came the ragged chorus from the four ponies.
 
“I would like to toast my beautiful wife, our daughter Raspberry Rose, who cannot join us this Hearth’s Warming—”
 
“Not for want of trying! She’s kicking right now.” Rose winced and sat down. “A little hard, sometimes. Oof.”
 
“Are you okay?” Post stepped down and pressed his cheek to her flank just as the foal kicked again. “She kicked again!”
 
“She does it a lot these days. I fear she’s as restless as I am.”
 
“I know you have been, but you—”
 
“I’m fine.” Rose waved her hoof gingerly, cider sloshing back and forth in her mug. “Continue your toast, dear.”
 
“Toast! Toast!” Came the cry from their guests.
 
With a laugh, he stood up straight again, hooves braced on the seat of the chair. “To the little filly!”
 
“Huzzah!”
 
“To family!”
 
“Huzzah!”
 
“To friends!”
 
“Huzzah!”
 
“And lastly, and more personal to Rose and I, to the wedding finally being paid off!”
 
Rose chuckled and raised her mug. “Huzzah!”
 
Post stepped down from the chair and nuzzled her gently. “Even if it did cost a lot, that’s a wedding everypony will remember. It’s one I’m going to remember forever.”
 
“Me too. I’m not upset over the cost, and we did save on catering, at least. Except for the cake.” She winced as she recalled the bill for the cake, far more than the seeds the flower fillies sprinkled about to sprout the meadow of oats and barley the guests themselves had grown.
 
“It was a memorable wedding,” Swift said, coming over to sit with them. “I can’t recall the last time a full tradition earth pony wedding has been held.”
 
“Fifteen years ago,” Lucky Day said, joining them with a fresh slice of pumpkin-oat pie. “Filthy Rich and Diamond Dust.”
 
“Oh, right. That was...” Swift blanched. “The pony pox epidemic.”
 
Lucky nodded, eyes unfocused. “Kinda overshadowed their wedding. We lost a lot of good ponies that year. Your mother,” he nodded to Rose, then to Post, “and your father.”
 
Silence fell over the gathering, leaving the crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of wind outside to fill it. Memories of the dreadful weeks Rose had been kept from her mother and father while they were laying in the hospital—while the hospital itself was under tight quarantine. All over Equestria there had been reports of similar outbreaks; the news spread only after the trains started running again and the pegasi patrols kept the affected towns and cities isolated.
 
Rose swallowed back the echo of grief and dredged up a smile. “Come on, this is suppose to be a happy day, right?”
 
“Right you are,” Post said, standing and turning to the ponies gathered about the living room. “I hope everypony is ready for some carolling!”
 
Cheers rang out from the small group of friends and family, along with suggestions for songs to sing, and houses to visit and rudely awaken.
 
“Jingle Tails!” Lily called out.
 
“Then Goodnight, Moon!” Daisy added.
 
“Let’s go to the Rich mansion first! I heard that he and Diamond Dust are passing out the surplus wreaths from his store this year!” Swift said, flapping her wings briefly, herding the two other mares into the entryway.
 
Rose stayed where she was, giggling as she watched Post try to corral the madness overtaking their narrow hallway, and reached out to tap her father’s hoof. “What about your new friend at the clinic? What was her name?”
 
“Ivy Bells.” Lucky shook his head. “You’re right. Today is a day to celebrate our past, not worry about it.” He smiled and nudged her gently, nodding at the group crowding around the coat closet.
 
“What’s she like?”
 
“A little like me, I suppose.” He paused, looking at her, then coughed lightly. “She’s a unicorn, but comes from earth pony roots. Mother a native from Canterlot, father a radish farmer.” He nudged her again. “Go on, Rose. Have some fun tonight.”
 
“Maybe... later. Isn’t it supposed to snow tonight?” She shook her head. “How is the home treating you? I noticed you’re not coughing as much tonight.”
 
“I’m doing just fine. Don’t you worry about me. Also, no. It’s not supposed to snow until tomorrow again. Tonight is special, and the pegasi are holding off the scheduled snowfall.”
 
“Oh.” Rose paused to watch her friends help each other into their warm winter coats. Post had hers out, too, along with a thick blanket. “And your cough?”
 
He smiled and nudged her again. “It’s fine. You go carolling. I’ll wait here where it’s nice and warm.”
 
To Rose’s surprise, Swift left the crowd of ponies to sit next to Lucky Day. “I’ll stay here, too. You go have fun. Let out that restlessness with a night of carolling.”
 
“A-alright.” Rose stood, looking between her father and the group of ponies scrambling in their entryway to don heavy winter clothing. It has been a few years since I went midnight carolling. Not since Luna came back. She glanced back at her flank; her daughter was still again, maybe sleeping.
 
“It’ll be good for her to hear happy voices raised in song,” Swift said, waving a hoof at her. “Go on.”
 
As she wandered away to find her thick winter garb, Rose heard her father start to cough again, rougher, deeper and wet. Her heart caught in her throat. If that’s what he calls getting better... carolling can wait.
 
Swift was there already, supporting the older pony with a wing and foreleg as the spasms eased and he settled back to his haunches. “Go on, Rose. I’ll take care of your father. You have fun singing joy into the night. Sing a special song for Luna for me, will you?”
 
Trust her. “I-I will... thank you, Swift.” She smiled, paused, then turned away again. The memory faded away into an echo of songs and the voices of her family and friends raised to sing in the new year—and she ran nose-first into a brilliant rose.
 
She gasped, inhaling the scent of a fresh spring day, and the sound of wings beating a frantic staccato filled her ears.
 
Pinkie—Mirror—stood on the other side of that rose, a sad smile dimming her bright coat. “You need to remember,” she said, her voice fading.
 
The memory swept over Rose.
 
“So I can forget...”