The pristine spires of Canterlot cast long shadows over the mountainside. Behind them, the horizon was aflame with the light of a receding Sun. Somewhere in the lands below, among the woods that surrounded a small town, a child with nowhere to be chased a friend through the snow.
The cool air pierced her throat. It had been several days since she had last breathed properly through her nose. That didn’t stop her from chuckling heartily as she ran after the colt.
She could never catch him.
The colt touched the side of the lone tree at the crest of the hill, proclaiming his victory. “Come on, Carol,” he said. “You’re not even trying!”
“No fair,” Carol replied. “You’re too tall, Meadow.”
Shallow Meadow towered above the blanket of snow, lumps of ice hanging from his black wings. Of course he won.
He dropped down onto his back, laughing gloatingly at his tiny friend. But Carol would surprise him. She could barely stick her head above the snow, anyway; she only had to lower herself a bit to turn entirely invisible. Being white all over had its advantages.
After his bout of laughter ended, Meadow scanned the hill. Carol stalked her prey like a wild cat. When the pegasus least suspected it, she fired up her magic and pelted him with a faceful of snow.
Meadow reached into the snow as well, looking to return fire. Before his clumsy hooves could finish a snowball, Carol had flung two others at him. Meadow then threw his own, only for Carol’s magic to catch it mid-air and throw it right back.
“Cheater!” Meadow exclaimed, already making another snowball. “I got no magic!”
Carol wiped her nose with a hoof, and shaping two more snowballs with the tuft of a spell. “And I’m half your size.”
She shivered. It was unusually cold now, even for her. She hadn’t noticed how fast the Sun vanished. The clear, starry sky accompanied the Moon.
Meadow sighed, letting his snowball fall to the ground.
“What?” Carol asked. “Giving up?”
Meadow looked up into the sky. “I’d rather we didn’t miss it.”
Carol’s magic dispersed, and her snowball fell from the air as well. Shen then sent Meadow a questioning look. “You sure about this? How come nopony at school ever told me?”
“‘Cause I never told them,” Meadow said, clearing snow from a patch of ground around him. “You’re the first. Come here.”
Carol sat down next to him, under the tree at the top of the land. At the foot of the hill, the hundred tiny lights of Schneeberg twinkled in the darkness; the town seemed at once comfortingly close and terrifyingly far away.
Meadow pointed at the apex of the mountain of Canterlot. “There,” he said, stretching his leg further. “Right there, above that spire. That’s where they’re gonna be.”
“That one?” Carol asked. “That’s tiny.”
“No, to the right. The other right.”
Carol still couldn’t see it. She wanted to ask, but she choked on her word. The Moon began its descent.
On the last day of the year, Equestria celebrated. Once the Sun set, the Moon would linger a little longer. When the time came, the Moon, too, disappeared from the sky. Princess Celestia would then raise them again, in perfect unison, to mark the beginning of the new year.
Slowly, inch by inch, the Moon hid under the horizon. The stars that were the farthest from it went out first. Carol remembered seeing this five times now, but never like this. With all the sky’s lights extinguished, a sense of dread crept over her. She could still see the the town down below, albeit barely; the darkness had engulfed most windows, letting only the strongest lights of the town square permeate through.
Save for that haven of brightness, so close yet so distant, Carol floated in a sea of blackness.
“Boo!”
Carol jumped. “Meadow!”
The colt chuckled. “Where are you?”
“I’m right here.”
“So, you got it yet?”
“What?”
“Got your resolution yet? You won’t make it if you don’t figure it out before it ends.”
“Of course I made my resolution.” Carol was lying.
“What is it?”
“What’s yours?”
“A secret.”
“So’s mine.”
“Mine’s better.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
Light broke over the horizon.
“Why does she do it, anyway?” Carol asked. “Celestia, I mean.”
“To remember her triumph over Nightmare Moon,” Meadow replied.
“Nightmare Moon doesn’t exist, stupid,” Carol said.
“Oh yeah? Maybe I can have your candy next Nightmare Night, then.”
Carol pouted. “She already has the Summer Sun for that. To remember.”
“Maybe she’s really proud of herself.”
“I bet.”
The Sun rose on the west. The Moon ascended on the east. The faraway mountains silhouetted in the shower of light. Their shadow stretched across all the land. Then the shadows shrank, withdrawing their inky curtain so that Equestria could bask in the radiance.
When the tides of light flooded over the hill, Carol found herself closer to Meadow than she remembered. The winds carried the sounds of the singing town. Meadow hummed to the tune. “The fire of friendship lives in our hearts....”
Carol smiled. Then she sneezed.
“Did you get sick?” Meadow asked.
“Am not sick,” Carol replied with an unconvincingly nasal voice.
Meadow inched away from Carol. Her first instinct was to scoot closer, but timidity got the best of her. She hung her head.
“Aren’t you watching?”
Carol looked up. The Sun and the Moon danced gracefully in the sky, coming together right above one of Canterlot’s tallest spires. So that’s the one.
“So,” Meadow said, “best view, or best view?”
Carol was too enraptured by the sight to respond. To Meadow, her open jaw was answer enough.
In a flash of light, the Sun shone brighter than it ever had. Carol had to look away. When the light subsided, the Sun was gone. The Moon had also rolled off Canterlot and was, now, exactly where it should have been at that hour. One by one, the stars blinked into existence.
It was always over too soon, Carol thought.
“But seriously,” Meadow said, “are you sick?”
“No!” Carol reinforced that statement with another sneeze. “I’m… allergic.”
“To what?”
“To stupid.”
Meadow yawned. “Yeah, right. I think I’m gonna go home.”
“What, little running’s got you tired?”
“No,” he said, standing up. “But mum makes the best cookies for New Years.”
“Oh.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“No, I… I think I’ll stay a little longer.”
“It’s dark. You gonna get lost on the way back. You know the way back?”
“I know the way back.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Meadow walked a few steps, then looked back at Carol. The filly was too busy pretending to not pay attention to notice how he repeated that three times before disappearing into the woods.
Carol should not have been shivering. She liked the snow, more than any other filly. There was no amount of chilling air that could make her sick. She did not need to go home. She was fine. She was well. She swore to the full Moon that she was well.
She sniffed.
Walking inside, Carol’s coat was drenched with melted snow, making her shake head to hoof. She wanted nothing more than to dry herself up and climb into bed.
Mum was not home. She was out with friends again, Carol thought.
Dad lay slackly, sideways, on the stained old couch. He had apparently pulled the table closer while she was gone. Carol could just barely make out a stack of dark bottles on it. The aura of Dad’s magic flickered weakly around the cap of one of them.
“Hi, Dad,” Carol said through chattering teeth.
The bottle floated closer to Dad’s eyes. The bottle’s neck sparkled brighter.
Carol felt another sneeze nearing. As she closed her eyes and the tingling mounted in her nose, her tired legs swayed sideways, and she bumped into a leg of the table. The itch disappeared in an instant, driven out by the oncoming fear.
The table rumbled. A bottle rolled off, hitting Carol on the head before shattering against the floor.
Her legs froze in their place. She would have screamed, but her breath could not leave. She stood there, trembling and jaw agape, eyes fixed forward for fear of turning.
After a few seconds, she gathered the courage to look down, moving her eyes alone; she didn’t dare move her head. Glancing at the broken bottle, her body slackened, and she exhaled in relief. It was alright. The bottle was already empty.
“You gone retarded?” Dad asked. The yet-unopened bottle was now in his hooves, the cap between his teeth. “What’re you lookin’ at the wall for? Clean it up.”
That was okay. She was used to cleaning up for Dad when mum wasn’t home. She carefully stepped over the scattered shards of glass; the broom and dustpan were in the other corner.
“Wait,” Dad grumbled.
Carol could barely catch the bottle flying for her.
“Open it!” Dad snapped at her.
The cap was soaked with drool. Carol didn’t have to physically touch it to feel dirty. She gulped, and her magical aura accumulated around the neck of the bottle, pushing upwards at the cap. She didn’t have much practice with opening these things; Dad had only recently discovered her talent.
She had to close her eyes to pay attention to the magic. Tension mounted in her horn. Before her blind eyes, the image of the bottle was still vivid. A drop of sweat rolled down her forehead.
Then the tingling sensation in her nose returned. At the moment of greatest magical exertion, as the bottle’s cap came popping off, Carol sneezed. Her magic flickered away and the bottle fell to the floor.
Nothing was spilled, though. The bottle, and all its contents, were frozen solid.
At first, Dad was surprised. Then he was furious. He picked the chunk of ice up already yelling.
“No,” Carol whispered, backing away. “Please, Dad, I’ll be a good girl. It’s my, it’s my resolution. I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be a good girl!”
When Carol next went to school, the teacher noticed two things: that Carol limped on a leg, and that she had the picture of an icicle on her flanks. The second came as a surprise even to the filly.
That was how Carol came under state care, and, eventually, into the home of a wealthy Canterlot couple.
The crystal sparkled in the light. Its form, they said, was a testimony to the perfection of nature’s design.
Carol would do better.
She looked up from the magnifying glass, putting the snowflake from her hoof back onto the tray.
“Not good enough,” she said.
“Oh, come on!” the stallion standing in the doorway protested. “We worked on that design for three weeks.”
“A cloud above the Everfree can create this in half an hour.”
“Oh yeah? Can that cloud also reproduce it enough times to supply half of Equestria with it?”
“No. It will instead make a billion more that are just as complex, however.”
“Nothing’s ever good enough for you, Carol.”
“Nothing you do, Meadow, that’s for sure.”
In the Cloudsdale Weather Factory, Shallow Meadow worked as the leader of Workgroup #13 in snowflake design. That Carol was put in straight above him – above all the groups – came as a surprise to both ponies.
Once a group was finished with their newest design, a sample would be sent to Carol for a final pass.
Carol heard plenty of terrible things murmured behind her back; the Cloudsdale pegasi didn’t like having a unicorn to boss them around. They made fun of her frail leg, and their stares made Carol feel they were waiting for her to fall through the clouds and plummet to her death.
Her leg carried her just fine, though, and the cloud-walking spell held firm. And, of course, Carol never forgot to have it renewed. Still, the unceasing aura of hostility put a strain on her nerves.
Ah, but Meadow was different. It had been over a decade since the two last played together. Carol’s memories of the colt she used to call her friend were few and faded. Meadow, on the other hoof, didn’t seem to notice that time had passed at all. Every time he looked at her, he wore that same, beaming smile that had etched itself into Carol’s memory.
Whenever Carol caught her colleagues making unsavoury remarks about her, Meadow would step up, and bravely keep his mouth shut as he nodded along. Carol could only shake her head at him.
Still, she knew Meadow would never hurt her, and – although she would have burned in shame to say it aloud – she liked him for that.
Even so, Carol – and Meadow – had a job to do.
Carol picked the snowflake up again, and pulled up the magnifying glass over it.
“Say,” she began, peeking into the glass, “I thought I told you to fix the arms. Didn’t I tell you to fix the arms?”
“You did, Carol,” Meadow said with a sigh.
“So why are they blunter than they were, last I’d seen them? I sent them back specifically for sharpening, and you went and cut off the tips.”
“Well, I... did you? Did we? Sorry.” He rubbed the side of his head. “Brain ain’t workin’ right these days.”
“Has it ever worked right with you?”
“Hey!”
It was such a shame, Carol found, that much like his youthful happiness, Meadow’s innocent idiocy remained even in adulthood.
“Only two months until Hearth’s Warming, and your group’s far behind schedule. It feels like you don’t want to get this done. Like you want to keep bringing these things back to me.”
Meadow looked suspiciously to the side. Is his face red underneath that black coat? Carol had to wonder.
“You know, Carol,” Meadow began, “maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Maybe then you wouldn’t feel the need to be so hard on others,” Meadow scoffed, turning around. “I’ll tell the guys our special snowflake needs better snowflakes.”
“You’d better.”
Meadow slammed the door shut behind himself.
Carol swirled the spoon in her soup, her eyes following the bits of fruit and vegetables swimming around. Her thoughts were elsewhere. What was that about, ‘being hard on herself’? Carol didn’t know. Or if she did, she refused to admit it. It was true: she always strived to do the best she could, to be the best she can. But that was hardly a bad thing, was it?
Yes, she had made mistakes. Who hasn’t? Maybe if she did things right, ponies wouldn’t be on her back about everything. She was a clumsy filly when she was little, and that stallion who called himself ‘father’ punished her for that enough. And maybe if she hadn’t got herself kicked from Celestia’s School, she wouldn’t even be in Cloudsdale. She’d be away from all the judging stares and cursing words. If only….
Oh, there she went again.
Cloudsdale wasn’t bad. Maybe it was better, the way things turned out. Meadow was nice, at least. Was. Carol pondered about his earlier outburst. She had not meant to offend him. He did not deserve that. All she wanted was for him to do his job properly. Was that too much to ask?
“Too good for the rest of us?” came a voice from above.
Carol jumped, looking at the stallion hovering above. “Meadow!”
He chuckled. “What are you doing here?”
Carol wondered whether Meadow was blind. She was eating her lunch. She always ate here, at restaurant what’s-it-called, out in the open, in the pleasant Cloudsdale air. She didn’t understand how everypony else managed to eat in that stuffy cafeteria back at the factory.
“Well, I was just… what are you doing here?” Carol asked. “Why aren’t you with ‘the guys’?”
“I always make a fly by to pick some stuff up for them.”
“I’ve never seen you here.”
“I’m pretty fast about it.”
“And your hooves are empty.”
“I haven’t picked anything up yet.”
She just couldn’t place him. He was outraged just a few hours ago, and now he was here, making smalltalk. She just wanted him to go away.
Carol leaned onto the table, placing her chin on her front hooves. “You haven’t been following me, have you, Meadow?”
Meadow fidgeted in the air uncomfortably. “Yes. I mean, no.”
“Because, see, that would be okay. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
Or maybe she wanted him to stay. Perhaps that would be for the best, she thought, to talk things over with him. Carol had never seen him angry, much less flip out and calm back down so quickly.
Maybe he was just crazy. Somepony so happy all the time couldn’t possibly be right in the head. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him to talk. Oh well; it was too late now.
Carol motioned at the opposite end of the table. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Meadow lowered himself from the air slowly, pulling up a cloud-chair. “What?”
“Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. About—”
Meadow’s ear twitched, and he rubbed its base. “What’s that? Didn’t catch that.”
Carol sighed. “I said I was sorry.”
Meadow leaned back, grinning up at the sky. “Mighty Miss Snowflakes is sorry,” he chortled. “That’s new!”
“Listen, if you’re going to—”
Meadow leaned forward, putting a hoof on her mouth. “Hey, if you want to make it up to me, I have a suggestion.”
His hoof was still on her lips. Carol was too stunned to do anything about it. She sent him a small nod. Dear, was she blushing?
“Why don’t you let me show you around sometime?” He pulled his hoof back. “I mean, surely I know more about the city than you do. Some wonderful sights here and there. It’ll be just like old times. What do you say?”
“S-sure,” she mumbled before even fully processing his words.
“Perfect,” Meadow said, springing from his seat. “We’ll talk details later. Right now, gotta get back to work. We need those snowflakes done for you, aye?”
The pegasus stroked Carol’s head playfully, making an awful mess of her mane. He flew off before she could call him out on it.
It took Carol a good minute to realise what had happened. Did she just agree on a date? With Meadow, of all ponies?
Or did she just think of this like a date? Meadow never said that word. Why would she even think that? What if, hypothetically, he really was aiming for a ‘date’?
She was technically his boss. And they barely knew each other. It has been so many years since they had been friends. Now they were just co-workers. He was working for her, really. This was wrong on too many levels to count.
Heh, butterflies in her stomach. Carol hadn’t felt that in a while.
“Ready?” Meadow asked.
The vast expanse of Equestria spread out before Carol. A single step forward, and she would fall from the cloud. Meadow’s forelegs were wrapped around her chest; he could probably feel how fast her heart was beating. Carol wanted nothing more than to step away from the edge, and return to the peace and safety of her home. But she had come this far. She could not have turned back now.
Carol looked up at Meadow and nodded.
Meadow’s grip on her tightened, and the two rocketed into the air.
An explosion tore open the sky. The city shook with it, the layers of clouds slipping and sliding on one another. Carol gripped Meadow’s chest, holding on for dear life.
“Stars, Carol, you’re choking me!” Meadow said. “And don’t touch the wings, or this’ll end badly.”
Carol was too afraid to speak, but nodded, mustering all she had in her to stay cool. Or look cool, anyway.
The strength Meadow had in him amazed her. They were now high above Cloudsdale, gliding through the air dangerously – beautifully – close to the thousand brightly burning sparks of the yearly fireworks, and the stallion looked no worse for wear.
To give him more space, Carol loosened her hold. Then she realised the absurdity of her action.
“This is insanity!” Carol screamed, shedding any semblance of calm. “Put me down this instant!”
“No,” Meadow said with a devious grin.
To her further protest, Meadow spun around in the air, coming into a steep descent.
Carol’s mane whipped against her back as they fell. “You are so fired!”
“You’ll want to reserve judgment on that until the day’s over.” Meadow pulled her closer. “Hold on now.”
Meadow pulled up, and for a split second Carol truly felt his hooves slipping. Now they were rising high, faster even than they fell. Meadow spun her around again.
Then she didn’t feel his hooves any more.
She was still spinning, flying freely through the sky. At one moment, she glanced at distant Schneeberg. The festive lights were already aflame. Then, as she turned away, Canterlot appeared before her, its monumental spires straining against the horizon above snowy slopes. She had reached the apex of her path.
Another explosion suspended her in time and space. In that one, infinite instant, she floated weightlessly, motionlessly, beholding the cavalcade of colours before her.
She slammed into something soft. Black forelegs slid under her own.
“Gotcha.”
Meadow brought her down slowly, carefully, gripping her tightly. The colours in the sky burned out. Others burst to replace them.
Carol’s hooves touched something solid again. Well, not solid; it was a cloud, and she could sit on it, so that worked. Even so, she was shaking heavily. She genuinely feared she’d bounce off.
Above, the fireworks continued. Below, Cloudsdale stretched out, bathed in decorative lights that reflected and refracted through the cottony walls. When the blast of fireworks didn’t suppress them, the voices of countless singing ponies ran with the winds. The city of clouds had become one of rainbows and music.
“Besides, you can’t even fire me.”
Carol shook her head. “What?”
“You’re just a supervisor. You know what you have authority over? Snowflakes. Not me.”
Carol didn’t answer.
“Oh, you liked it up there, admit it.”
“Stars, no,” Carol said, looking not at him but the city below.
“Yes you did. Wanna know how I know? You were grinning the whole time. You still are.”
Carol putting a hoof on her cheek. She really was smiling. Meadow batter his eyebrows. What, was he expecting her to tell him he was right? She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
Swiping her tail over the cloud, she noticed something; something she could use to change the topic. She looked down, digging at the cloud. When she pulled her leg up, the patch dispersed, but something else remained on her hoof.
“Is that snow?” she asked. “Did you powder a cloud with snow?”
“I thought you’d like it.”
She squinted her eyes, scanning the thin layer of snow carefully. She counted five different designs of snowflakes; ones that Meadow’s team made, ones she had approved herself. She had to give Meadow credit for his attention to detail. Very well, Meadow, she thought. You won, just this once.
“I do like it,” she finally said.
“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”
And what a liar he was. He was not blushing at all.
“You went through all this trouble, just for me?”
“Well, somepony had to air you out a little. Don’t you ever have fun? Ain’t there no stallion waiting for you, planning to kick my ass right about now?”
“No,” Carol answered, quicker than she wanted.
Oh, great. Now she was blushing. She didn’t have to look for her next distraction, though; it found her soon enough. As she uncomfortably shifted her weight from one leg to another, a sharp sting pierced bones, making her hiss in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Meadow asked.
Carol pulled up one of her hooves. “My bad leg. You were pinching it the whole time, you know.”
“Was I?” Meadow gaped. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, really—”
“No, it’s alright. It’s fine.”
“No, really, I’m sorry—”
“I said it’s fine.”
Meadow put a hoof under hers, and another onto it. “Where does it hurt?”
“Meadow, I told you…” The pegasus looked at her with the irresistible stare of a begging puppy. Carol rolled her eyes. “Right there, at my fetlock.”
He rubbed his hoof softly over the base of hers.
“Lower,” Carol said. “Bit to the left. The other left. H-hey, ouch! Watch it.”
“Sorry,” Meadow said, doing his best to massage her pain away. “There. It’s already better, isn’t it?”
As the tip of Meadow’s hoof traced its careful paths along her leg, the pain did indeed dissipate. It hurt even less than usual, perhaps.
“Yes,” Carol said, quite amazed. “Thank you, Meadow.”
“Well, it’s the least I can…” Meadow looked to the side, still rubbing Carol’s fetlock. “Look, it’s starting.”
The fireworks died down. The singing below fell silent with them. Every single pony in Equestria was waiting with bated breath for what was to come. Pegasi across the land cleared the skies to ensure nopony missed the sight.
On these nights, the Sun always set so quickly, so early. As it disappeared, and the red sky turned dark, Carol shivered. Not because of the cold, but because of the event’s haunting nature.
“A new beginning,” Meadow said. “That’s what it’s about. Moving on, striving forward, putting the past behind you, all that stuff.”
“I know,” Carol replied.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just, you know, you asked me? That one time, on the hill? Don’t you remember?”
Of course she remembered. It was one of the few concrete memories she cherished from her childhood.
“I don’t recall,” she said.
Stupid, stupid.
“Come on,” Meadow said. “Is that why I’m doing all this now? So you can forget it all in a few years?”
“I do believe I’ll remember this one, don’t you worry.”
“Okay, for the record, I let go on purpose. I had that under control. Alright? And I said I was sorry about your leg. Focus on the good parts, okay?”
The good parts… a smile crept over Carol’s face again. The harder she tried to make it go away, the firmer it held.
A chill ran down her spine. The stars were already going out, and the Moon was descending. Carol sat a little closer to Meadow. He extended a wing, covering her back like a warm blanket.
As she sat there, her hoof in his, his wing on her, she couldn’t help but turn from the sky to look at him. He returned her gaze. As the Moon sank beyond the horizon, the two ponies on the cloud inched closer and closer. As the last beam of moonlight passed over them, Carol closed her eyes.
Only their lips touched, at first. Carol was frightened. She wanted to pull away. But then she would not have found him again in the darkness. And you know what? She did not want that. Then she wondered why she was even thinking about this. Why was she even thinking right now? She should have been concentrating on the task at present. By the stars, she just wanted to get through it without messing up and embarrassing herself.
She was terrible. So was he. Such went the tale of their first kiss.
Even through her closed eyelids, Carol saw the flash of light that signalled the end of the Sun and the Moon’s dance.
But she and Meadow were still going. She wondered if she should open her eyes. Just a little. Just to see whether he had opened his or not. What if he had? That would have been awkward.
There was another flash of light. She hated all these distractions. She hated herself for even paying attention to them. Wasn’t she allowed to enjoy anything in peace?
Wait, she thought. Two flashes? There had only ever been one flash.
She pulled her hoof back, pushing Meadow away and looking to the side. She was greeted by another pegasus with a camera in his hooves.
“Wow,” he said. “I was just going to take pictures of the lightshow up here. Didn’t think I’d find something like this. No, no, keep going. You’re perfect. Adore the contrast.”
To hide her redness, Carol sunk her face into her hooves. So much for not being embarrassed.
Meadow chuckled, putting his hoof over her shoulder. “Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”
“Don’t call me that,” Carol mumbled through her hooves.
“Bit shy, she is,” the other pegasus said.
“Tell me about it,” Meadow replied. “Hey, Carol, tell you what. Let’s get another picture, however you like it. Would that be better?”
She lifted her head from her hooves. Guess she wasn’t getting out of this one. The pegasus was already aiming his camera. But she wasn’t ready! She hasn’t even answered!
Carol made the silliest face she could think of, trying to pass the whole thing off as a joke. Putting your tongue out while you’re smiling, who does that? Oh well. The camera flashed and the picture was taken.
“So,” Meadow began, “I assume we’ll be getting these pictures gratis, right?”
“Absolutely. Hey, look, here’s my card. Have a good one.”
With that, the pegasus flew off, leaving Carol and Meadow alone under the Cloudsdale Moon.
❄