//------------------------------//
// Warm Wishes 
// Story: After the Storm 
// by Jay911 
//------------------------------//

DECEMBER 19

"Stormy?" I heard faintly from far below.
I looked down and saw a tiny figure emerge onto the roof of Ponytown. Randy looked this way and that, but never up.
I gave him a few moments, then took pity on him. "What's up, little man?" I called down.
He finally angled his head upwards and saw me shoving clouds to and fro. "I gotta message for you!" he hollered.
"I'm working," I said. "If you want to deliver it, you know what you have to do."
He put on a determined look and nodded, then lunged forward and upward, launching into the sky. I smiled and returned to my work, scarf fluttering lazily behind me as I 'cleaned' the sky above the settlement. The colt spiraled upwards like he was on a long, curving ramp, not yet strong enough for a fully ballistic climb.
I hung in the air and waited for him once I'd moved the cloud I was working with. I even smoothed out the top edge of it for him, and he gladly accepted it, panting as he flopped onto it.
"You okay?" I asked after a moment.
He nodded, still gulping in air and lying on the puff of vapor.
"Didn't have to take a break on the way up," I observed positively. "That's an improvement."
"Thanks," he said, smiling, and then he sat up and delivered his message. "Swift says there's an email on the tablet from a listener. Says you should be playing Christmas music instead of Def Leppard."
"Oh? Duly noted," I smirked. We'd finally set up a true studio-style workstation for me in my little corner of Ponytown, with which I could program music and spoken broadcasts to run at scheduled times. And because I was the pony at the controls, the music I liked went out over the air. I had no program managers to answer to, no government agencies to mandate that I carried 30% Canadian content... but apparently, listeners who gave me feedback over what amounted to the new Internet.
"Do you want me to go change it?" Randy asked, spreading his wings.
"Nope," I shook my head. "I like Def Leppard."
"You're not even listening to it right now."
"Now you sound like Swift," I grinned. "Winter doesn't officially start until Monday. I'll switch to jingle bells then."
"What?" He looked over the side of the cloud at the white-coated ground below. "I think somepony forgot to tell winter not to come before Monday."
"Back in the day, somebody decided that winter officially started when the winter solstice occurred, on December 21 or thereabouts. And before you ask, winter solstice is when the days are shortest and nights longest."
"Aren't we making our own rules now?" he asked. "I mean, why don't we say winter starts when the first snow falls?"
"Good idea," I said, leaning over to ruffle a hoof thru his mane. "I'll let you call a council meeting to argue it."
"We have a council?"
"Nah," I said. "Just kiddin' with ya." I shoved off from the cloud and hovered beside it. "Wanna help me finish this and then we'll go down for hot chocolate?"
"Okay!" he smiled, leaping up and flitting into the sky as well.

About a half an hour later, we were inside, nursing warm drinks and letting ourselves return to room temperature. It was chilly outside, to a pegasus - which meant for everyone else, it was downright inhospitable.
Despite the cold that was emanating from us, Karin came over and sat down beside us at the table. "Hi," she said. "Warming up?"
"Yup," I nodded, smiling. "The sun's guaranteed to shine down on us for the rest of the day, too, so this place will come up a few degrees as well."
"Thanks," she said. "I don't know if it's just me or if everyone feels the chill."
"Even if it is just you, the rest of them can put up with a little warmer environment for the winter," I joked. Then I noticed Randy was trying not to get caught staring at Karin. I nodded his way, and Karin glanced over, then smirked.
"Got a question, little guy?" she asked.
He blinked and hid behind his mug of hot chocolate, taking a sip. Then, when he realized he wasn't going to get away with not answering, he said, "You look... different."
I snorted and almost choked hot chocolate through my snout. Karin giggled and leaned closer to him. "In what way?" she led him on.
His eyes darted to her midsection again, and he was clearly trying to figure out a way to say it without saying she looked like she had some extra mass.
"Be nice," I said. "He's a k... he's young."
Karin laughed again. "Yes, Randy, I am with child."
"Pregnant," I clarified. "Karin is pregnant."
Randy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Wow!" he exclaimed, then corrected himself to add congratulations.
"Thank you," Karin smiled. "You are officially the third person... well, fourth person to notice."
"I am?" he said with mild confusion.
"Jeff and Karin, of course," I told him, "and me, and you."
"The rest probably just think I'm putting on winter weight or something," Karin laughed.
"How are you coming along?" I asked. "No complications?"
"Not as far as I can tell," she admitted. For Randy's sake, she added, "According to the books, this is going to be a long eleven months. Well, eight and a half, now."
"If you do start to feel off," I cautioned, being serious for a moment, "you need to let somepony know. It won't do for our medic to need help and be the only one who can tell."
"Trust me, I'll let you know," she said wryly.
"Who's letting who know what?" Jenn asked as she came into the dining area.
I shared a glance with Karin, letting her spill the proverbial beans if she so desired. "Whether or not I need assistance in the coming months," Karin said. "With dealing with morning sickness, spending less time on my hooves, and all that."
Jenn turned and obviously got the hint, based on the look on her face. I braced myself for the inevitable squeal-fest, looking over to a bewildered Randy and smiling.

I was in the radio room when I saw Rich and Swift pull a cart through the snow towards the garages, so I jumped down and went over there to let them in.
"Thanks," Swift panted as she shook off the snow and cold, layering herself in a magical field of warmth to dry herself off. "Boy, it's cold."
Rich was unhitching them both from the cart - the old pickup truck box that Greg, Jenn, and Randy had arrived in - which was filled to the brim with bottles and jugs of water. I peered at their cargo and remarked, "Where'd you find this?"
"We went all the way in to Etobicoke," Rich said, pausing for breath to let his lungs warm up. "Hit every little place we could find there and back."
"That's one hell of a hike," I commented. "You guys okay?"
"Nothing a couple weeks in front of a fireplace couldn't cure," Swift quipped. "We'll be all right."
"Well, the little guy and I cleared the skies and the skylights, so this place'll pick up a bit by afternoon. We can make you some hot drinks too."
"Thanks," Swift said. She and Rich both levitated several of the partly-frozen bottles and jugs to bring them to the dining area.
"Let me help," I said, turning my back to them and flaring out my wings a little. I was getting good at balancing things on my spine as I walked - partly from carrying Randy around.
When we got back to the dining area, Jeff, Karin, and Serge were there, chatting and enjoying a warm sunbeam filtering in from above.
"Oh hey," Serge said brightly, greeting the unicorns as they came in, and recognizing their payload. "You didn't have to do that; I was going to go out myself later."
"It's okay," Rich said. "It was a little cold, but we didn't mind."
"Still," Serge said through clenched teeth as he took from my back a large jug by the plastic handle, "it probably would've bothered me less."
"It's no bother," Swift said, setting her cargo down beside the one Serge deposited on the floor. "We all pull our weight."
"How much did you get?" Jeff wanted to know.
"Sixty-eight four-liter bottles and twenty-some-odd cases of smaller ones," Rich said. "Some of the cases are partial ones because a few bottles were frozen and ruptured where we found 'em."
Jeff did some math in his head. "That'll still last us a couple weeks," he said eventually, nodding. "Good job. Thanks."
"After Christmas, us gearheads should lay out plans for a water line," Serge said, taking another bottle from me, "so we can get to work as soon as the ground's thawed."
"I was thinking about that," I said, putting down a couple of bottles myself. "I'm not sure we need to wait for the natural thaw cycle."
"Well, digging in this kind of cold is going to be brutal-" Serge countered, but I held up a hoof and nodded silently towards the unicorns, who were halfway back to the garages, going for another load from the cart.
"Oh," Karin spoke up, nodding. "Have you asked them yet?"
"No," I admitted. "But their skills are improving all the time. Swifty did some kind of warmth spell on herself when she came in. I bet they could dig a trench like the ground was butter."
"You might be right," Jeff mused.
"Still, it's pretty cold out there for any of you guys except us," I said, indicating Serge and myself. "I don't mind waiting until the chill ebbs a bit."
"It'll take a bit to draw the plans up, anyway," Serge said. "Hopefully either it naturally warms up or you can wizard up something to trap some heat near the surface." He smirked at me.
"I'll get right on that," I shot back.

Later in the afternoon, I was up by the cow pasture, making sure that they had food and water, and that their shelter was intact and clean. I was rearranging some clouds to give them some sun, like I'd done for Ponytown, when I heard a motor in the distance.
Turning to watch, I saw the battered old diesel pickup truck churning its way along the snow-covered road, sending up four rooster-tails of white powder as the engine surged and roared in low gear. The machine slewed wildly turning into the paddock's driveway, the driver clearly having a good time.
It turned out to be Jeff, sporting a wide grin as he climbed out of the cab and trotted over to the gate. I flew down and said, "Enjoying yourself?"
"That was fun," he enthused. "Put it in a three-sixty on the curve by the fifth concession road, but obviously I made it."
"Good," I said. "What's up?"
"I was coming up to check on the herd and apparently to do what's already been done," he said, looking over the filled water trough and freshly cleaned shelter.
"I didn't check the milker," I offered. "Don't know if they're using it when it's this cold anyway."
"Oh, sure," he said, walking over to it. "'Bout the only issue is the temperature of the, um, apparatus..."
"Don't talk about it," I said with a shiver.
We spent a few minutes checking the tanks and equipment, making sure it was serviceable, and then stood there, looking around.
"Hey," Jeff asked out of the blue, "are we putting up a tree?"
I looked around, thinking he was talking about something local and immediate. "Huh?" Then I figured it out. "Oh! I don't know. Nopony brought it up with me. Have people been talking?"
He shrugged. "Not that I've heard. I'm just asking for myself. It'll be the first time in my life I haven't had a Christmas tree up, if we don't."
"Well, we can't ruin that kind of streak," I smiled. "I don't suppose you brought a saw with you?"

We got home around dinner time, with Jeff putting the truck away and bringing in our cargo while I went to greet the others.
"Where've you guys been?" Swift asked, putting together our evening meal.
"Up chatting with the cows," I quipped. "Oh, and doing a little foresting."
"A little what?" she laughed.
Jeff came in from the garage, drawing the attention of the others who were filtering in for dinner by dragging in a giant pine tree.
"Whoa," Randy gaped.
"What the...?!" came from Morgan.
Greg stood there for a moment and then said, "You know, I think we have some air fresheners in the automotive section. You didn't have to get a real one."
"Fool," Karin laughed, going over to join her mate. "It's a Christmas tree!"
"Yesh it ih," Jeff said, still tugging on its trunk with his jaw. "We eed to saw off ee boddom flad, dough."
"We didn't have a saw or an ax with us," I explained. Jeff released the tree and everyone could see that it was splintered and shattered on its stump, where he'd just bucked it down.
"I expect this place won't have any Christmas tree stands in storage, being that it was May when everything went down," Morgan commented.
"Who knows? They had ski goggles," Serge said, turning to head for the back room.
"I'm gonna help look!" Randy declared, leaping upon Serge's back.
"Supper's almost ready!" Jenn called out in protest.
Everypony came back to settle down for dinner, but continued to go on about the concept of Christmas. It was clear that some people had completely lost track of time and forgotten what day it was. Talk of each person's family's traditions and celebrations ruled for a short while, and eventually somebody brought up the topic of other customs.
"Will we exchange gifts?" Jenn had asked.
"Well, we sure have our pick of things we can get for one another," Rich quipped, nodding towards the former store's piles of product.
Randy waved a hoof in the air like he was trying to get the teacher's permission to speak. "Why would we give somebody something that they could just go over to the shelf and get for themselves?" he asked.
Greg leaned over to him. "It's not the 'what' you're giving or receiving, bud. Ever heard 'it's the thought that counts'?"

DECEMBER 23

I awoke to sounds of awe emanating from near the windows, mixed with rattling from the roof and walls.
I walked out of my bedroom and looked around for the source of the noise. I found it in the form of a half-dozen ponies clustered around the windows of the radio shack.
Great drifts of snow were piled against the lower floor windows, the edges shifting periodically from the wind blowing the snow around. Only the "second floor" windows - from the height of the radio shack - had sight lines out of the building, with great big flakes hurrying down onto the snowpack.
"So much for digging a trench for the pipeline," I quipped as I came up the stairs. Serge turned around and nodded, edging aside to give me some room.
"It must've started after bedtime," Greg observed from closer to the window. "Looks like it's been coming down all night."
"What's the temperature?" I asked, nudging somepony to move so I could get a better look at the weather screen (which we'd relocated to the radio room, so I could use it in conversation when talking online).
Rich whistled as he spied the current readings at the same time as me. "Minus twenty seven."
"With the wind chill, that makes it an indoor day," Swift declared. "I think it's too cold for even you featherbrains."
"I don't wanna be out there," Randy agreed.
"Let's focus on putting up the tree," Jeff suggested, "and decorating the place. K and I will make sure we have enough food indoors to last us a few days, and then we'll all bunk down for the holidays. Sound good?"
"Uh-huh," several people chimed in.
"I'll set up a morning broadcast and then help out with the decorating, if you all can give me some room," I smiled.

By mid-morning, when I was done my broadcast, the snow was creeping up to the metal frame between the lower and upper windows. That meant there was nearly six feet of snow on the ground. Ridiculous, I told myself. It was definitely the heaviest snowfall the place had seen in years, if not decades, and I had to wonder for a moment if the situation the world was in had anything to do with it - that is to say, did the disappearance of most of the population cause the big storm? To hear people tell it (before the Event), the opposite was more likely, that too many people would cause problems.
The reason was immaterial now, of course, and I tried to push the train of thought out of my head as I gazed at the blizzard still ongoing. With wind-chill, the temperature felt more like the minus forties, according to the weather computer. Does wind-chill apply the same now that we're not human? I found myself wondering. In any case, it was too cold for even us pegasi to go out and try to do something about the storm.
Departing the radio room, I fluttered lazily around the upper heights of the building for a bit, surveying what was going on in terms of decorating the place. The tree had been erected, with some twine near the top to tether it to support beams and keep it upright. Putting decorations on the tree itself would come later, when everyone was present and able to participate.
If we had any Christmas decorations, of course - as we'd discussed among ourselves earlier, the store was not exactly in the winter season mode when Ponification took place.
I decided to angle into the back room/warehouse and see if I could find anything in the junk piles and old boxes stored high on the shelves, outside our normal reach and out of the way. With luck, maybe there was a crate of garland or decorations for the store itself, if not products intended for selling that we could commandeer.
I rooted around in the high shelves without much luck for about half an hour, until I heard the creaking sound of the roof door opening and closing, and four hooves stomping on the upper landing. I turned around to see Serge, bundled in scarves, toque, and blankets (in place of coats and clothing which would fit), shaking off a small heap of snow.
"What were you doing out there?" I queried incredulously, floating over towards him.
"Phew! That's bitter," he commented, then answered me. "Keeping the roof clear. I don't want either the roof to come in on us or the only door above the snow line to get blocked."
"Oh," I said, nodding. "Good idea. But it's just not safe to be out there. Seriously."
"It's just a heavy winter storm," he scoffed. "It's no worse than going out bundled up like I would have a year ago."
"Except none of us are built like we were a year ago," I countered.
"Pfft," Serge scoffed again. "We'll manage."
"If you say so," I said, turning to go back to my search.
"I know so," he smirked, pointing a hoof skyward. That was all he needed to do for me to understand what he meant - the man (or pony) above would handle things.
I hope you're right, I didn't add as I went back to the search for decorations.

In the end, I was marginally successful - we did come across some light strings that could count as Christmas tree lights, but probably weren't meant for that in the first place, seeing as how they were in with the automotive stock. There were no ornaments to be found, but Jenn had a brainstorm and gathered together some craft supplies, and had an impromptu decorations-creating party. That took me back to my childhood when my parents and I did the same thing, though with much greater dexterity - at least, compared to those of us who don't have horns.
After making a half-dozen or so decorations, I excused myself for a midafternoon nap, which was becoming routine for me. For some reason it felt like the eight hours I got overnight wasn't enough and I needed a snooze before supper. Perhaps pony physiology was different from humans? Well, of course it was, but what I mean is we didn't know what to expect from our new lives. It would be nice if we could someday get details on what made us tick, so to speak.
Anyway, as I said, I went into the radio shack for a doze. It was one of my favored places to hang out, not just because I wanted to listen for any radio traffic, but - to admit the truth - all the radio gear emanated a ton of heat and made for a cozy little corner of the place. From the earlier remembrance of my youth, my dreams took the form of nostalgic memories, primarily of camping both in my childhood and in more recent years with my yearly 'racing vacations', like the one interrupted by Ponification last spring.
In my dream state, I was in the woods, near a lake, enjoying the wilderness and nature, and sleeping in a tent in the campground, with nothing but the natural world around me.
As I was lying in my sleeping bag in the tent, I was disturbed by a yelping and yipping sound right in front of my face. That puzzled me, as I hadn't brought a dog along on this dream trip. I worriedly wondered if it was a fox, wolf, or coyote in my campsite.
The nudge of a cold nose against my snout startled me awake. My eyes opened to see Buddy before me, hunched low to my level, whimpering and letting out little plaintive barking noises.
"Randy," I called out, "Come let Buddy out, I think he needs to go." And with that, I shut my eyes again.
I heard the young colt's hoofsteps come up to the stairs and his voice call to Buddy, then they both faded away and left me to my slumber once more.
I was almost back to REM sleep when I heard hoofsteps again. "Umm... Stormy?" Randy was saying hesitantly. "He won't go."
"What do you mean he won't go?" I moaned. "If he doesn't have to, then just bring him back in."
"Well, he won't come back in either. He's just standing outside the door upstairs and barking at me."
I sighed and threw off my blanket, flapping a couple of times and took to the air. Randy ran along below me into the back room where we each ascended to the roof door in our own way, and I shoved it open.
"What's your matter, Bud?" I asked the dog. Then, when I got a look at him, my fur pretty much stood on end. I recognized his pose not as needing to pee or wanting to play, but pointing to trouble. It was similar to the way he'd behaved ages ago when Ponytown was set upon by a pack of near-feral dogs. Something was wrong.
Before I could react, Buddy rushed to the roof's edge, hesitated for a moment as he judged the deep snowpack beneath him, then lunged off into the snow.
I turned to Randy. "Stay here," I told him, flapping my wings and taking to the sky.
He shook his head, buzzing his own feathers furiously, rising to meet me. "I want to help."
I sighed and shook my head again, then looked back to the parking lot where Buddy had leapt. Like a Bugs Bunny cartoon, all I could see was a lengthening disturbance in the snow, and occasionally the flicker of the tip of a black-and-white tail. He was making great time considering the insanely deep snow, wherever he was going.
Randy and I flew into the late afternoon sky, and the air bit into my hide almost like it was causing me physical pain.
Why do I live where the air hurts my face, I quipped to myself, referencing an old joke. I glanced back to make sure Randy was still with me - he was, and didn't seem to be faring too badly in the cold and wind. Or maybe he was just hiding it, like I probably was on the outside. Looking back, I pinpointed Buddy again and vectored to go after him.
After a few more moments' flight, I caught a glimpse of something surprising in the distance: artificial light. Two red bulbs burned from under a thin cover of precipitation, already covering up the vehicle that had disturbed a sizable portion of the snowpack behind it.
I dashed over to the car, circling around it, and all I could see was the rear end of the machine sticking out of the snow, like a sinking ship. The blowing snow was doing its best to cover up the stalled vehicle, which looked like it had plowed into the drifts - literally - from out of nowhere. It didn't take much thought to figure out what that meant.
The broken back window of the car was filling up with snow, but Buddy wasn't heading this way. Instead, he was powering through the snow towards a nearby apartment building. As I studied the distance between him and me, I realized there was a path being rapidly obscured, leading from the car and pointing toward Buddy's objective.
I hurried my way to the front of the apartment building, whose front was somewhat sheltered from the drifts - at least the entryway was accessible. And by accessible, I mean that the glass in the door was smashed in, snow lightly drifting through the gap onto the lobby floor.
I hovered by the door and peered into the dim foyer. It was hard to tell if anyone was in there. Momentarily, Buddy burst from the snow and shot through the doorway like a spotted rocket.
Turning around, I fixed Randy with a stern gaze as he alighted on the snow-covered front steps of the building. "Stay here," I urged him, and waited for his wide-eyed nod before I spun back around once more and followed the dog inside.
"Buddy, wait up!" I called out, taking back to the air after ducking under the panic bar on the door. I hurried down the hallway, eyes adjusting to the low light after a few moments, and saw the Dalmatian duck around a corner towards the mailboxes at the end of the hall.
The hallway was a short one and I had to pull up lest I smash into the building superintendent's office door. Buddy was sitting there, again whimpering, staring at a dark bundle on the floor. As my vision improved, I realized it was a midnight-blue pony, huddled in a ball of fur.
"Hey!" I called out to her. The unicorn wasn't shivering, which was a bad sign. People, at least, stopped shivering in the late stages of hypothermia. Ponies? Probably the same. If she didn't get help, she was done for.
"Randy!" I hollered, turning sideways to look towards the entrance. I recoiled in shock as I found him right beside me.
I cursed in my head and fixed him with another fierce glare. "Go get help," I demanded. "Now!"
He buzzed away and I turned my attention back to the fallen pony. I touched down on the ice-cold cement floor, reaching out for her, and found her to be nearly as cold as her surroundings. At least she was breathing; her chest was moving, though slowly and shallowly.
Then her body made a move that seemed unnatural, and I quirked an eyebrow, trying to figure out what was going on. Was that a death throe? I wondered. It was like her gut spasmed. I winced, not wanting to watch someone going through a messy and ugly death.
Then I heard a noise, and blinked in shock. Please, no, I begged whatever god or being might be listening. I crouched low and nudged the pony's legs, trying to uncurl her. "I'm here to help," I urged her. "Open up, let me see."
If she was conscious enough to respond, it wasn't obvious. I managed to wedge a hoof in between two of hers and pry them apart far enough to see what I'd been dreading.
Tight against her belly, taking the last dredges of her body warmth, was a teal-colored, blonde-haired foal of maybe about a year or two, huddled there, shivering and crying.
Fuck, I cursed, folding the unicorn mother's legs closed again and lying atop her to share what was left of my own warmth.