On the table there were four socks. By their side, a pony stared at them as if they held the key to all the mysteries of the universe. For the past hour she had been looking at them, lifting them, sniffing at them. Tasting them. All this had been to make sure that they are, without a doubt, ready. There was more to them than wool and color. Her desire, for a start.
Gradually, the pony’s gaze shifted to two framed pictures on the left. One had the whole weather team in it, with Dash in the middle, her confident smirk flashing like the sun itself. It made the pony proud to notice herself just behind her, or at least part of herself. Half of her face had been covered by Dash’s magnificent wings. Perhaps that was a good thing. It preserved the illusion of symmetry, at the very least.
The other picture wasn’t really a picture, but a stamp framed against a piece of cardboard. A stamp with Twilight’s profile on it.
Finally, the pony decided it was time. One by one, the socks returned, for the fifth time today, to their boxes, each made to fit only one. They were lined with wool, the softest available in Ponyville. On the side of every one it read: Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship. The letters looked like whoever wrote them spent the better part of the day on it.
The lids closed. The pony smiled.
Sometimes, socks will have to make do when the goal is perfection.
***
Sometimes, waffles will have to make do when the goal is perfection.
With a swift motion starting all the way from his shoulder and ending with his wrist, Spike, in a showcase of coordination between eye, hand and guts, sent a golden brown waffle in the air only to catch it seconds later back in his frying pan. The joyous sizzling that followed was music to his ears. It was a disgrace that nopony had been there to witness the spectacle. On the other hoof, had there been anypony else in the kitchen that morning, they would have probably also noticed the other four attempts that hadn’t worked out so satisfyingly. The ceiling still bore subtle hints of the doughy destruction that had befallen it.
“We need more carpets,” said a voice behind Spike. He turned around.
“Good morning!”
Twilight tiptoed into the kitchen and quickly claimed her place at the small table that stood in the middle of the room. A sniff later she asked: “You made waffles?”
Spike produced a plateful of the steaming, round things. The sight made Twilight’s sleepy eyes glint.
“I know it breaks tradition, but since you're a Princess now and all, I thought the breakfast for today should be more royal, too. Happy birthday!” His eager clapping filled the kitchen.
“Thank you,” said Twilight. With care, she picked up a waffle, spread a thin layer of jam on the surface and took the first bite. “My gosh!” she exclaimed with her mouth full. “It’s delicious!”
With one claw, Spike tapped the large book that lay by the stove. “Like I said, a royal breakfast. Right from Cooking for Queens: A Saddle Arabian Guide to the Kitchen.”
The first waffle disappeared down Twilight’s throat in a flurry of chomps, only to be followed by the second one. She even skipped the jelly. “You have to make these more often,” she said, crumbs falling past her lips. “The girls need to try these out, too.”
A shadow crossed over Spike’s eyes. “Then you’d better ease up. I had to order the special ingredients all the way from Saddle Arabia, and they’re all out now.”
Twilight finished her second waffle and looked at the pile before her. It seemed decisively smaller than it had a moment ago. The glint shone a tad more fervently in her eyes.
“Sharing is caring?” ventured Spike.
“I know that,” said Twilight, blinking. With some hesitation, she lifted the plate with her magic and offered it to Spike. “Just put them somewhere safe for now.”
“Will do.” He tucked the culinary treasure away and said: “So what you said about the carpets... Does that mean you're not wishing for that central heating system we talked about?”
Twilight glanced at him while simultaneously pulling breakfast bowls, spoons, and cereal from the cupboards. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. Remember that we’re living in the Tree of Harmony now. Sort of. Anyway, installing tons of pipework in the walls doesn’t sound like something we should do to Her.”
Spike jumped onto his chair opposite Twilight and poured some milk over his cereal. “Well I don’t think she’d want us to freeze, either. The winter is coming. Do you think a couple of carpets would fix that?”
“At least they’d be more pleasant to step on in the mornings. I don’t want my every step to feel like I’m walking on ice. Seriously, I might as well use skates around here.”
“That would be a new one,” said Spike. He munched his cereal thoughtfully for a moment. “What if we installed the pipes outside the walls, not inside them?”
Before Twilight could answer, a knock from the front door carried into the kitchen.
“I’ll get it,” said Spike before Twilight could even think of standing up. Off he skittered, only to return with a long, blank white package wrapped with a bright red string.
“The guests are coming already?” said Twilight, quickly finishing the rest of her breakfast. “Gosh, did I sleep in late?”
“No no, this came in the mail,” said Spike. He set the package on the table. “Said it was a special delivery to you.”
“Phew, good. I could really use another hour before turning into the regal birthday party host they expect me to be.” She started collecting the dishes.
“Hey, what are you doing?” said Spike, who quickly scooped the bowls and spoons from the purple halo’s grasp. “You just focus on that present; I’ll take care of the chores.”
Twilight rolled her eyes gently, though her newfound smile did not leave her face. Her gaze wandered to the package and focused on the small note attached to it. She turned it around and read out loud: “The first of four, delivered to your door. Expect more.”
“Who’s it from?” asked Spike as he climbed on the kitchen stool with the dishes.
Twilight turned the note around again, and her small smile turned into an equally petite frown. “Doesn’t say. From Zecora, I guess?”
“Then it’s probably a totem or something. Maybe we could use it as a potato smasher?”
“Spike!”
“Hahah, just kidding. Open it already.”
She did. The string was neatly untied and rolled up, the lid fell on the side, and from within there emerged...
“A sock?” asked Spike as he glanced over his shoulder at the item Twilight was holding. “Zecora sent you a sock?”
“I don’t think it’s from Zecora,” said Twilight slowly. “This has been knitted, and I have trouble imagining Zecora knitting anything.” She studied the piece of clothing for a moment. As far as she could tell, somepony had really put effort to it. The yarn was spotless white, practically glowing even in the dimness of the kitchen. It looked like wool, but perhaps not that of sheep. On its neck, the letters T and S stood out. They matched the color of her coat exactly. “It’s beautiful.”
“And useless,” said Spike while he washed the dishes. “Can you think of anything more useless than a lone sock?”
Very considerately, Twilight put the sock back into the box. “The sender said there will be more, didn’t they?”
Spike chuckled. “Yeah, maybe they’ll sent a lone horseshoe next. Or half a saddle. Or a–”
“Okay, I get it,” said Twilight, closing the lid again. “No need to get nasty.”
Spike shrugged and dried the last bowl. “Right. Still, you can’t say that sending socks one at a time isn’t weird. And not Pinkie-weird, is all I’m saying.”
“I don’t know about that. It feels that the most surprising thing Pinkie could do would be to stop surprising me.” She headed out of the kitchen. “I’ll go wash up. If we get any early guests, lead them into the big living room and offer them some refreshments. But not too much. The day is going to be long, and we have a limited supply of cider.”
“At least until AJ comes with her present,” said Spike under his breath. He closed the cupboard and jumped off the stool. He looked up to the ceiling with the idea of a gamble looming behind his eyes. Twilight had said nothing about the small stains, so perhaps they could wait until later, even if some of them were still dribbling a bit. There was a lot to do, after all, even before Dash, Fluttershy and the rest would arrive.
Before leaving, he glanced at the lone package. The idea of total strangers sending socks in the mail wasn’t what Spike considered a fitting part of a birthday. It was more of Nightmare Night thing. And yet Twilight had liked it, so it would be his job to find a place for it until it could safely be forgotten in the attic or something. He picked up the package and carried it to the large table in the hall. It would serve as the beacon for other gifts when the flood of guests would start pouring in.
***
Which it inevitably did. It was a birthday of a Princess, after all, and with her new home being the largest building in town, there was no reason not to invite the whole of Ponyville. This of course meant that the party extended well beyond the castle, to the point where it ended up covering the whole town. In a sense, then, the inhabitants weren’t invited to the party as much as the party was invited to them.
Which was of course more than welcome. Ponyville loved to party. Ponyville lived to party, or at least a part of it did – a part consisting of a single pony to be exact, the name of whom there was no need whatsoever to pronounce for it was already on the tip of everypony’s tongues. As with all her friends’ birthdays, Pinkie had devoted every ounce of her waking hours of the past fortnight for the celebration at hoof. It showed, too. Even the gutters had confetti hanging from them. It was all to make the day as special as it could be.
It would end up being just that, thought a certain pony as she made her way along the town’s main street. In the yearbook of special days, this one would claim a whole spread for itself.
A steady stream of guests was pouring towards the castle, the one pony standing out from them in no special way whatsoever. The pony felt natural, being a part of crowd. The crowd was part of her, in a way. But not tonight. Tonight, the pony would be special, just like tonight would be special. It was meant to be. Even the gutters told the tale of that.
Tucked in the pony’s saddlebag, three packages, all white as fresh snow save the bright red string that kept them together, stuck out. It was a risk, yes, but one that necessity had dictated. The presents would not bear to be twisted or folded, nor their contents to be rolled up like a meaningless pair of socks.
Finally, after turning one more corner, the pony could see the castle’s entrance. There was a line, as long as it was slow. It would matter none. The pony had all the time she needed, for all the time she didn’t need had been poured to this one day.
***
At the end of the line, Twilight smiled, or rather, continued to smile after a short, precious pause. The expression, for all the gratitude and joy it conveyed, was getting rather mechanical, she felt. It was a shame, but there was no avoiding it. Even the most intimate smile would dull if one repeated it a hundred times in a row. She had tried adding a bit of variance every now and then – a casual wink or a slight change in the lip’s curve – to offer that personal touch that each and every one of her guests deserved. But the more she tried to make every meeting special, the more ordinary the effort itself felt. It was difficult, insisting on speciality.
“Thank you for coming,” she said to Cranky Doodle and his wife. “I’m glad that you could make it.”
“Well, we could hardly decline,” said Cranky. “It’s not every day a donkey gets a chance to visit the castle of a princess.”
Twilight accepted the package she was offered with a raised eyebrow. “You know, you’re welcome to visit any day you want to, invite or no. Everypony is.”
Cranky shrugged. “Oh, we know. But it wouldn’t be special. It ought to be, to visit a princess in her castle.”
Twilight smiled. “As you say. Enjoy the party.”
“Will do,” they said in unison and walked past Twilight. She set the gift on the table behind her. It was quickly vanishing under a mountain of colored packages. That was another thing Twilight was oddly sad about. Contrary to reason, every new package seemed to diminish the value of the whole instead of increasing it. A mountain of gifts was not any gift, which was almost the same as saying that there were no gifts at all. But that couldn’t be true.
“Happy birthday, Twilight,” said a familiar voice. She blinked and smiled before realizing who she was facing.
“Oh, hi to you too.”
“Here’s your present,” said the pony and offered her a package. Twilight smiled some more and put it on top of the rest with hardly a glance dedicated to it. It was the pony behind the gift that mattered.
“Much appreciated. Great to see that you could make it from work.”
The pony nodded awkwardly, flashed a short smile and disappeared into the crowd.
Twilight gave a fleeting glimpse after her and turned to face the next guest. This one was dressed in a long coat and wore a hat that, along the moustache that would have shamed a walrus, covered their face.
“Pinkie?” Twilight said.
The hat flew to the ceiling, the coat ripped apart, and the moustache simply exploded away. The next thing Twilight knew was that her ability to move, let alone breathe, was severely hindered by the pink pony that had wrapped her front hooves around her.
“Birthday hug!” screamed Pinkie, lifting Twilight off the floor with surprising ease.
“Hnngghh,” said Twilight.
“I know!” exclaimed Pinkie. She let go of Twilight, only to immediately yank her back to her feet from the floor. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”
“Something tells me I should have,” wheezed Twilight. She sought her balance for a moment and added: “I mean, the fourth time is kind of a stretch. Besides, you shouldn’t be cutting in line.”
“I didn’t, I swear! I waited, like, forever to get to you, every time.”
Twilight gave this a thought. “That’s... impressive...“
“Anything for you, love!” Pinkie speeded on her way, shedding confetti as she went. Twilight watched her blend into the party, shaking her head slowly. For some ponies, being special didn’t need any effort at all, for it was the norm.
Some of Pinkie’s confetti had rained upon Twilight, and as she shook it off her mane, a white note, larger than all the rest of meaningless pieces of paper, caught her attention. A purple halo seized it and turned it around to reveal a few lines of the same, intricate hoofwriting that she had seen earlier on the breakfast table.
“The second gift came, found in your mane. Can you guess my name?”
“Pardon, dear?”
Twilight tore her eyes off the note and blinked. Granny Smith’s face, wrinkled with mild confusion, was staring at her. Apple Bloom, standing by her side, looked at her with her head tilted.
“Ah, nothing,” said Twilight. She cleared her throat and folded the note back into her mane. “Good to see you both here. But where are Applejack and Big Macintosh?”
The two Apples smiled conspiratorially. “They’re outside with our present,” said Granny. “I reckon it’s best you go there to receive it.”
Twilight gave her a careful smile. “Am I wrong to suspect that it has something to do with why Spike insisted that we wouldn’t need to stock up on drinks?”
“You could say that, you could,” said Granny, turning around. Before Twilight followed her, she glanced at the pile of presents.
Lying on top, there was a long white package wrapped tight with a bright red string.
***
In the party, the pony mingled. That is what one is supposed to do. Anything else would be considered suspicious. The pony had no plans of attracting attention, not while she carried her precious cargo. At a minute’s interval she glanced at the two remaining packages peeking from her saddlebag. So very much depended on them. So very much, and so very little. Four socks, three words, two ponies. One moment. One perfect moment. It was near, the pony could feel it. And it would be perfect. She could see it so clearly now.
“–And I said: ‘You can’t buy speed, hun’.”
There was laughter, which the pony joined. Everypony laughed at Rainbow Dash’s jokes, even the ones who didn’t get them. At least everypony in the weather team did. She was the heart of the team, its soul. The pony felt better just watching the cyan mare, the essence of boldness on ground and sky alike. Confidence simply radiated from her like it was the air she breathed. One only had to glimpse those eyes bright as the edge of the setting sun to be filled with a sense of vertigo. A kind like the pony felt right now.
Dash was looking at her.
The pony turned her face away and left the small circle that had formed around Dash. Without anypony paying a great deal of attention, she slipped into the kitchen, which at the moment was empty. There was no escaping the din of the party, though. The pony leaned against the table and touched her chest. The beating resonance of her heart almost made the table shake, too. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her hoof tight against her chest.
“Here you are,” said a voice behind her. She swirled around. It was Dash. “What got into you?” she continued, closing the door behind her.
The pony smiled, and after a pause, shook her head. Dash frowned.
“Is that how’s it gonna be again?”
The pony’s head drooped. “It’s nothing, really nothing. Nothing special.”
Dash eyed her for a moment and then went for the fridge. “Nothing special like those packages in your bag? The ones with Twi’s name on them?” She opened the door. When she closed it, she had a bottle of cool apple cider in her hoof.
The pony stood frozen.
“Drink this,” said Dash. The pony accepted the bottle, albeit very stiffly.
“How did you know?” she asked quietly.
“I didn’t, until now. But I had a solid hunch. It’s the way you always go quiet around her, how your cheeks glow. Yeah, I had a feeling something was up awhile ago.” She flashed a short smile. “Wouldn’t be much of a coach if I hadn't.”
“Are you gonna tell her?” the pony asked.
“Who you think you’re talking to? Rarity?” Dash took a step to shake the pony gently by the shoulder. “The ceiling will tell your little secret before I do.”
The pony beamed.
At the same moment, Spike, holding a rag, lost his grip on the ceiling and fell to the table next to them.
***
In the yard outside the castle, the seemingly endless line had dispersed with a seemingly impossible speed that was the effect of two factors: unlimited supply of free cider and the Princess herself. Twilight did her best not to get trampled in the apparent mass hysteria centered around her person. The idea of winging it crossed her mind, but she chose to reserve that option as her last resort. It wouldn’t do for a Princess to fly away from her ponies.
The more she felt the crowd around her, the more difficult it was to avoid the notion that the pony who had sent her the two socks was probably there, too. They could be facing each other right now, and only one would be the wiser of it. But hadn't the mysterious admirer hinted that they wanted to be recognized? “Can you guess my name?” What else could it mean but a riddle?
Twilight couldn’t for her life say why it was that this one pony, this one gift, and not the countless others around her made her feel slightly uneasy... and oddly excited. It should feel odd to be excited about socks. They were a kind of luxury, yes, but in a very ordinary way. They were for the quiet nights, or for the chilly mornings, or perhaps for Hearth's Warming Eve. Nothing special in socks, not as such. So one would think.
“Twilight!” cried a voice among hundreds. Her ears turned towards it, followed by the rest of her head. Above the madly smiling faces, a familiar hoof waved a worn old Stetson.
“Happy birthday!” said Applejack as Twilight made it to her. The farmpony grabbed her by the shoulder as soon as she could and pulled her out of the crowd. “I’m sorry it ain’t wrapped up nice and sweet,” said Applejack, pointing at the dozen or so barrels that were being unloaded from two wagons by Big Macintosh. “We figured there wouldn’t be enough paper in Ponyville.”
Twilight eyed the barrels for a moment and then bit her lip. “This is very gracious of you all, but surely I must pay something for these?”
Applejack grinned. “Yeah, we thought about that with Spike and came to a deal of sorts. They’ve been paid for alright. Don’t need to think about all that now.” She drew her to the closest barrel, produced a mighty jug and filled it to the brim. The snow-white foam sizzled quietly as it dribbled on the grass. “For now, this is all you need to think about.”
Twilight took the drink, along with a thought.
“Could I maybe show you something?”
“Sure, sugarcube. Hey, Big Mac, can you finish here alone?”
“Yup.”
“I reckon he could,” said Applejack to Twilight as they headed towards the castle, through the mass of guests that was, thankfully, now gravitating towards the cider. “So what’s on your mind?”
“Socks.”
“Come again?”
“They were a gift I received today,” explained Twilight. “I only got two, and at different times, and both came with a short poem instead of a name.” She glanced over her shoulder at her friend. “It seems that I have a secret admirer.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, I’d be glad if more of your admirers would join him,” said Applejack, shouldering her way to the opening behind Twilight that was continuously trying to close. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“So you think it’s a he?”
“I’ve no clue. Guess it could be a mare. It’s just that...”
“Yes?”
The farmpony paused. “Well, I reckon sending socks is kind of a... intimate gesture.”
Twilight gave her another glance. A peculiar grin had appeared on Applejack’s face. “Really?”
“Think about it. Where do you wear socks? Inside, when you want to get all cozy and snuggly. Intimate. They’re not practical, socks. And giving them as a gift tells me that the giver has reserved a thought or two for your legs, if you get what I’m saying.”
“Yes, I get it,” said Twilight hastily, turning her face away to cover the faint blush. “But you're wrong. Socks can be practical. They keep the cold away.”
“Couldn’t say. Haven’t ever tried them.”
“ Ever? Not even in winter?”
“You know how the floors are in the farm: all splintery-like. It’d take a darn good sock to come through that unharmed. Besides, we Apples have tough hooves.”
They arrived at the main hall of the castle, which by now had lost all interest in the eyes of the guests. Only the mountain of packages stood there, along with the long, white box wrapped with a red string. Twilight picked it up, opened the knot and pulled the lid away.
“Sweet Apple Acres,” said Applejack as she looked at the sock held up by Twilight. “That’s a fancy sock.”
“I know,” said Twilight, studying the woolly jewel intently. It seemed to be an exact match of the first one. Even her initials looked precisely the same, although she couldn’t be absolutely sure without seeing them both together. “The other must still be in the kitchen. Come, I’ll show it to you.”
“That’s like the queen of socks, I reckon,” said Applejack as they headed towards the kitchen.
“Socks have sexes?”
“Sure they do: they share it with their wearer. Makes perfect sense.”
***
“Spike!” yelped Dash right after the purple dragon had slammed on the table. “Oh my gosh!”
“My back...” muttered Spike, his eyes half closed. A painful grunt fled him.
Dash lifted her front hooves on the table and leaned over him. “Are you okay? What were you doing up there? Are you okay?”
“I may have dislocated a vertebra or two,” said Spike. Helped by Dash, he sat up and started, very carefully, touching his back. “Nope, they’re all where they should be. Good thing dragons are tough work.”
A smile of relief spread on Dash’s lips. “Yeah, that’s right. Too bad some of them have thick skulls, too. What were you thinking?”
Spike gave her an annoyed look. “You know, sometimes you sound awfully like Twilight.”
“I don’t!” blurted Dash, her wings opening and closing quickly. She looked at the other pony.“I don’t; tell him!” Her face fell blank when she noticed how pale she had become. “What’s wrong?”
The pony looked at Spike as if he was a ghost. “You... you heard us talking? About... about...”
“About you having a crush on Twi?” finished Spike while still touching his back.
“Are you gonna tell her?”
Spike looked at the pony. Suddenly, his back didn’t seem that pressing of a matter anymore.
“Uhm... Not unless you want me to?”
The pony breathed out.
“I think you should tell her yourself,” said Dash. “ASAP.”
The pony shuffled her legs. “It’s easy for you to say... But not everypony has your confidence.”
Dash frowned at that. The sentence made an ill fit to the mental picture she had about the pony. Grey was her color, not green.
“I’ve planned on telling her,” continued the pony as she noticed Dash’s expression. “That’s all I’ve planned for months... But the time must be right, just right. Special.”
Dash eyed the pony suspiciously. “Okay, sounds reasonable. If that’s really what you believe will work for you... “
“You don’t think it will?”
Dash winced. “I didn’t say that. I’d never say that. Wings are my business, not hearts.” She paused for a moment. “Just saying I’d go about it differently.”
“I know you would,” said the pony, a sudden shadow falling past her eyes. “If she’d walk through that door right now, you’d blurt it out. Because you don’t need stupid secrets or gifts or poems to be special. You just are. You were born special.”
Dash opened her mouth.
Twilight opened the kitchen door. Every head turned to her.
“Uhh... hi?” she said after a pause.
Spike unfroze first. “Who are you greeting?”
Twilight blinked and walked into the room, with Applejack coming right behind her. “Never mind. It seemed like you were expecting somepony.” She looked around the kitchen for a moment. “Where did you put that package we got in the mail this morning?”
Dash noted how Spike strangled the instict to look at the pony. “Let me see, aahh..." he said. "Yeah, it should be with the other gifts in the hall. Probably on the bottom.”
“Right, of course,” said Twilight. She was about to leave, but glanced one more time at the room in general. “So... You all came here to hang out?”
“Yeah, sure!” said Dash. “Really this is the only place around where you can still get your wings straight. Ain’t that right?” she said, looking at the pony and ignoring the eyebrow that Applejack had raised.
The pony opened her mouth, then closed it.
The room fell silent after that.
“So... Why are you searching for the package?” said Spike.
Twilight turned her eyes from the pony to him. “I thought to show it to Applejack. Another one arrived just a moment ago, you see.”
“I wonder who’s it from,” continued Spike, unable to help himself.
“I wish I knew,” said Twilight. “Whoever made them certainly deserves some appreciation. I mean, will you just look at this.” She pulled the sock from the package.
Dash whistled. “Wow. You’re right. Seeing that makes me want to wear it.” She paid a sideways glance at the pony. “A wonder anypony would hesitate to claim something like that as her own.”
“Why do you think the sender is a mare?” said Twilight.
“What? No I don’t! Just a slip.” She let out a short laugh. “Guess it could be, though. Nothing wrong in that.”
Applejack coughed. “Say, Rainbow... What did you bring for Twilight?”
Dash’s face fell blank. “Uhh... The usual? Extra flying classes. Why?”
“Nothing. Just curious.” She paused, studying her from under her brows. “Anyway, I think I’ll go help Mac set up the counter. See ya all around.”
“I’ll come too, in a moment,” said Twilight. “First, I want to try on these socks. They’ve been itching me all morning.”
“No!” said the pony abruptly. All eyes turned on her. She batted her eyes with her mouth open and continued: “I-I mean, m-maybe you should wait. Until you have all four. Before trying them on.” She swallowed. “M-maybe...”
“Yeah, she’s got a point,” said Dash quickly. “You should wait to get all four. Wouldn’t be right otherwise.”
“Why would that be?” asked Twilight, looking in turns at the pony and Rainbow.
Dash shrugged. “A hunch. The sender probably means business, sending socks one at a time. Seems like a puzzle... that should be put together all at once,” she finished after a pause.
“And that’s all a hunch?” asked Applejack from the doorway.
Dash gave her a defiant look. “Yeah? So? Everypony knows my hunches are great.”
A knowing smile spread on Applejack’s lips. “They sure do. I’ll be going now.”
After she had gone, Twilight looked at the sock still floating before her. “I suppose you could be right,” she said slowly. “There is something special about these socks. Something I can’t figure out.” She put it back into the box. “They do deserve special treatment.”
Only those who looked for the pony's sigh noticed it.
After Twilight had gone, Dash walked to the door, checked that there was nopony listening on the other side, and closed it. The moment the wood hit the frame, the pony collapsed on her knees.
“I’m fine,” she said to Spike, who rushed to help her. “I need a little lie-down, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I had a hunch about that, too,” said Dash, eyeing the pony carefully. “While you’re at it, mind telling me what exactly you’ve planned to achieve with those socks?”
The pony, shaking gently, lifted her eyes to meet Dash’s. The connection lasted for a heartbeat, and then fell to pieces.
“Oh,” said Dash, blinking. “So that’s how it is.”
“What?” said Spike.
“You sure that’s what you want?” continued Dash, ignoring him.
“That’s what I now have to do,” said the pony quietly. “That’s the only way...”
“What?” repeated Spike, a tad louder.
“What do you mean?” said Dash. “What has changed?”
“You,” sobbed the pony. “They think the socks came from you. They think you made them.” She covered her face with her hooves, shaking.
Dash took a step closer to her. “Now, look–”
The pony bounced on her feet so fast that Spike stumbled on his back. She faced Dash, whose front hoof froze mid-motion.
“Why do you have to be so perfect?!” she cried. “What makes you so special?”
Dash stared, along with Spike. The pony let out a strangled, painful whine, and fled the room.
Some while after the door had banged shut, Spike asked: “What the hay was that all about?”
Dash finally landed her front hoof. It hit the floor heavily.
“Heart stuff,” she finally said. “Not my strong point.” She shook her head slowly. “Guess I better go after her.”
Spike watched her fly out. Next his eyes wandered to the ceiling, which still had doughy stains aplenty. Just the thought of climbing back there made his back ache. It seemed that he’d have to bother Twilight with this, after all... or just get a proper ladder from somewhere. The odds were on the latter option.
***
They say that one can feel as lonely on a desert island as in a crowd. What they do not say is that the outcome is certain only in the former. That’s why hermits rarely live in cities.
The pony pushed her way deeper into the crowd, searching for a way out. Every room seemed to be packed, probably because it was autumn and there had been mist in the morning. Irritated comments littered her path towards the exit, but she kept on shouldering past the meaningless bodies. The more effort she used, the slower her progress seemed. She panted hard by the time she could see the door to the hall. It was all she cared about at that point, which meant she utterly missed the mare that crossed her path.
They collided. The pony tripped and fell. The next thing she saw was her saddlebag spread open, its contents spilled on the floor. The other package's lid had fallen off, and from inside, the sock peeked like a baby bird from its nest.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the mare said. “Here, let me help you with those–oh my.”
The pony looked at the mare, who seemed mesmerized by the contents of the box she had picked up. A cringe crossed her face as she recognized her.
“Who made these?” Rarity asked, admiring the sock. “Was it you?”
The pony nodded while she collected the other box into her bag. “Could I have that back?”
“Of course,” said Rarity. She hooved the box back to the pony, who closed it carefully and put it next to the other one. She was about to circle the other mare, but stopped when she started talking.
“I had no idea you were into knitting,” Rarity said. “And that wool... It’s not sheep, is it?”
The pony slowly shook her head, averting her eyes. “Goat’s. From Saddle Arabia.”
Rarity gasped. “No? Really? But the prices nowadays are ridiculous! I would know: the order I made last year consumed the better part of my budget.”
The pony squirmed, trying to inch her way past her. “They were pretty costly, yeah...”
“It’s a lucky pony, whomever you’ve planned on giving them to,” continued Rarity. “Your work is top-notch, I can tell. Beyond special, it could be said.”
The pony stopped. “You... You really think so?”
“Absolutely! My, I’d love to know the details of your technique.” She cleared her throat. “That is, if it isn’t too bold to ask that...”
The pony gave this a thought. “Uhm... Sure. I can drop by one afternoon.”
Rarity’s smile glowed. “That’d be lovely. Until then, enjoy the party.”
And just like that, the pony was alone again. She stood still for a moment, eyes fixed on the door.
She stepped through.
In the hall, by the mountain of presents, Twilight looked at her. She had two socks on her feet.
She gave out a brief smile and an even shorter laugh. “Hi. Uhm... I know what I said about the special treatment and all... But socks are meant to be worn, right? They've been bothering me all night!”
The pony stared.
Gradually, Twilight’s smile faded away. “Oh, you’re right... Impatience got the better of me. But it was worth it.” She gently shook one of her socked legs. “A perfect fit.”
The pony walked to her. A few feet off she stopped, pulled two packages out of her bag and laid them at Twilight’s feet.
She looked at them, then at the pony, then at the packages again.
“I have the rest of the poems, too, if you’d like to hear them,” said the pony, studying her hooves. Next, she found her chin being lifted.
“Yes, please,” said Twilight, looking straight in her eyes.
The pony’s mouth opened slowly. At the same moment that the words fell past her lips, a purple halo opened the two remaining packages and pulled out their contents.
“The third, all the same. It’s not just a game.”
Moved by her magic, the socks clad Twilight’s legs.
“Nought left but the fourth. Nothing left to be sought.”
The halo evaporated as Twilight’s horn dimmed. She blinked and looked down while lifting her legs one at a time.
“They feel wonderful,” she said. She looked at the pony again. “I have no idea how to thank you.”
The pony swallowed. A drop of sweat gleamed on her brow. Her mouth was still open, the ghosts of the poems faintly moving her lips.
Time passed.
“So... I think I’ll go show these off,” said Twilight eventually. “Want to come along?”
The pony drew a deep breath.
“There you are!” said Rainbow’s voice behind her. A door closed, and then she was next to her and Twilight, the beats of her wings chasing away the pony’s sigh. “I thought you had gooonee...” She noticed what Twilight was wearing. “Oh.”
“Is something wrong?” asked Twilight, looking back and forth between Dash and the pony.
“No,” said the pony with a smile. “Everything is alright.”
Twilight smiled at that. “I really have to show these to everypony. Rarity will just faint, I know it.” She walked past the pony and to the door. “Come join us whenever you like.”
When they were alone again, Dash landed and said: “I swear, I didn’t notice what was happening before–”
The pony muted her with a hoof. “It’s okay, Dash. Everything is okay.” She lowered her hoof, the tranquil smile evident on her lips. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
Dash frowned. “But I thought this was your moment? The special one? Or had you already come clean?”
The pony shook her head, still smiling. “I thought I would. For a while. It was just as I had imagined it, to every detail. A perfect moment. A special moment.”
Dash waited more. But the pony only smiled. “And that’s it?”
The mismatched gaze winked at her.
“No. But it will do.”