That mare. The pretty one with the seafoam mane and the single wing. The one that feared him, thought him a creep. The way she looked at him. The way she looked at him!
How had he not noticed sooner?
Stupid. Good for nothing. He slammed his hoof against a chest of drawers. They buckled against the blow, the crack echoing off the walls. A distinct pain rocketed up his foreleg, and he slowly pulled it free of the splintered wood. He stared at it as one might an ant crawling along his hoof.
The pain ceased as quickly as it came, a calm washing over him as true and warm as the blood running down his foreleg. Ears low, mouth slanted, he looked away, then to the hole in the dresser. Then to the frame atop it.
There sat a framed crayon stickfigure drawing of him and Mother. A third pony had long since been scratched out with charcoal. The two ponies smiled beneath a shining sun, red as his hoof. He blinked to, pulling away from the drawing. A bloody hoofprint smudged the glass.
How long had he been staring?
It was dark in his bedroom. The candle atop the vanity table in the other corner flickered its last in a dented brass bobeche. It incensed the otherwise stale room with the smell of smoke.
Beside it, a halo of light around the blackout curtains called to him. Peach, on its slow drain to yellow. He had to go.
He slipped down the stairs, their creaks and moans but whispers to those he buried deeper between his ears. Across the hallway, the kitchen awaited him, dust motes idly floating in the thin beams of light the windows couldn’t fully keep out.
The utensil drawer groaned as he opened it, and tarnished silver clanged to a rest. Their warped and watermarked surfaces stared back at him, waiting, expecting.
They knew what he wanted. Rather, what he didn’t.
He saw in his reflection an emptiness, a hollow hunger not his own. Not his own, but accepted.
Love, as he had grown up knowing, was the greatest gift, worth any price. He grabbed the carving knife and shut the drawer.
Blind motion sheathed it between skin and saddlebag, and he spun back for the hallway. Something flickered in the corner of his eye. A dark figure to the left, in the dining room. A fuller glance saw nothing but the dining room table and the dark-blue curtains hiding away the porch window. He shook his head, heading for the half-flight of stairs leading to the side door. He grabbed his cloak from the hook in the stairwell and swept it about him before throwing open the door.
Vile. Thieving. Treacherous, little bitch. Those golden eyes. They were not hers.
She had taken Mother’s eyes. And he was going to take them back.
≈≈≈×≈≈≈
“Rose! You ready for school yet?” Hope shouted up the stairs.
“Almost!” Roselily’s voice sounded back, muffled. Probably still in the bathroom. Hope sighed, shaking her head. Only four and she already took forever getting ready. Hope wondered how long it would take once she started dating.
Hope continued her circuit into the front room. She idly glanced at anything that could hold her interest, trying her best to keep herself from pulling her mane out. Patience wasn’t a virtue of hers. There was the coffee table in the middle of the room, with Business Casual’s work magazines. The front window lording over the front porch swing, and all the unread newspapers piled high between its pillows. Oh yeah, she still had to straighten up the porch from her search for Snowball. She added that to her mental checklist for the evening.
Into the living room, the stone fireplace drew her eyes, and the pictures on its mantle held them there. She couldn’t help the smile that ran across her face at the sight of Roselily’s newborn pictures. If anything pressed her buttons, calling her small took home the gold. Today might have to be one of those days if she kept up her antics.
“Coming!” Roselily’s hooves plodded down the staircase carpet, and its little platform that spilled into the hallway creaked a final ‘I’m here!’ before she clomped her way toward the kitchen. Hope came full circle on her route and met her there.
Most foals hated school. The last day of classes before Hearth’s Warming break paled only to that of summer, the looks on all their little faces every year next to priceless. Anguish was the only word for it. She could see them straining their wishing muscles: don’t make us go! Please let us leave early!
But Roselily was one of those weird fillies. She enjoyed school just as much as her time away from it. The smile on her face—a spitting image of Mom’s—as she stepped into the kitchen that morning, that little red ribbon braided through her shoulder-draped ponytail, could have made Hope gag had she strong enough feelings on school. There was a stupid thing called work she wished never existed. Hard to sympathize with the little ones ever since “break” became nothing more than the fifteen minutes she got to herself halfway through her shift.
“Let’s go!” Roselily raised a hind and forehoof in the air before skipping for the kitchen’s back door.
“Now you’re ready? That only took you forever and a day.” Hope smirked as she brushed a stray lock of light-brown mane behind Roselily’s ear the way Mom did (and the way Rose hated). She earned at least one button push for all that waiting.
Roselily wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have to take so long if you’d stop leaving your whole mane in the shower.”
Hope shrugged, an easy smile on her lips. “Hey, I have a long mane and I shed like a cancer patient. Deal with it. Nopony told you you had to clean every last hair out of the drain.”
“Yeah, but that’s gross!” She stomped her hoof, and the gold of her eyes illustrated her scowl as more of a pouty face. Hope’s easy smile turned a little less easy and a lot more wrestled under control. She eyed Roselily’s saddlebags in hopes of changing the subject and to keep from bursting out laughing. She had only earned one button, after all.
“Yeah, whatever you say. You have all your school stuff? You’re ready for your last day of the quarter, right?” She added a grin to smooth over their squabble.
It seemed to work, Roselily suddenly beaming at the mention of school. “Uh huh. I got my math book, my science notebook, Fritzy’s pencil I forgot to give back yesterday after the spelling contest, my—”
There was a rip in the side of Roselily’s right bag. She saw it as she opened the door. The bottoms looked pretty beaten up, too, its nice, deep red more a weathered pink. Probably from recess before school, being thrown rather than placed on the blacktop before she raced off to play, like she herself used to do as a filly.
That made Hearth’s Warming shopping easy.
Roselily was still naming off things in her saddlebags when they stepped into the morning chill. Last night’s snow crunched under their hooves, a most beloved sound of winter. Reminiscent of past Hearth’s Warming seasons and the fun of watching the ever-growing pile of presents beneath the tree. The suburban cheer and snowball fights made the memories all the warmer, despite how frozen she often was in them.
They took the usual shortcut: through the backyard, past Mrs. Petal’s koi pond, and up the alleyway. It only cut off about two minutes, but it often afforded Hope that extra moment of solitude in the breakroom before clocking in.
She kept silent the first few minutes, letting Roselily practice her ‘special’ talent: the gift of gab. Roselily often babbled on about something or other to do with school or her friends, things that would grate the patience of even the most humble ponies. But Roselily apparently had genuine plans this Hearth’s Warming, it seemed.
“—And Snow Shoe and Fritzy Beat are coming over before we go see the fireworks,” Roselily said.
“Did you ask mom yet?” Hope smiled. The answer would be no, of course, but smart to ask anyway. She had to do her part in teaching Roselily some sort of responsibility, being the big sister and all.
“No, but I think she’ll let me go.” She hopped up onto the stone wall that ran the length of the Whinnyson’s front yard. “She let me walk all the way to Caramel Cream’s house last week for our sleepover.”
Oh yeah. That. Hope looked up and away, biting back a giggle. Roselily looked like a giant suitcase that had grown legs walking down the road that night. Of course, Hope had offered to walk her there, but Roselily had snapped into ‘big filly mode’ and demanded she walk all by her big filly self. Luckily with all her sleepover supplies piled high, she didn’t notice Hope trailing from a distance.
“Well,” Hope said. “Just make sure you tell her right when you get home, not when your friends show up.”
“I will,” she chimed in her usual ‘of course I will; I’m a big filly’ voice. Hope looked away to hide her smirk. She would never admit it, but she loved how adorable her sister could be at times. It reminded her of herself back then. Except for the not getting in trouble bits. Somehow their parents always found a way to pin blame on her instead of Roselily whenever something happened. Big sister and all for sure.
They turned onto Barleyton to jog down toward Oatley Road, which was a straight shot to Andalusian Elementary. At least, as straight as the roads in East Germane aspired to be. The civil engineers were either drunk when they built them or had some blueprint hoofed down from Celestia herself that dictated the roads should be curvier than the covermares of Cosmarepolitan. (Not that she would ever be caught dead reading that garbage.) Hope never considered herself obsessive, but roads, at least, should be straight. The little hills and sprawling front yards made the walk rather scenic, though, if only to scrounge for a silver lining. And rimmed in the frost of last night’s snowfall, that silver lining shimmered bright.
“What’re you doing when you get home from work today, Sis?” Roselily asked.
Good question. She rolled it around in her head like a marble on a plate. “Probably just go to bed. I’m always so tired after work. Especially if Old Stiffy makes me load the carts again.” A half lie. Stiff Lip, or Old Stiffy as she called him when he wasn’t around, often made her and Free Load stack the carts whenever he caught them milling about the storefront. It certainly tired her out, transferring crate after crate of milk from the barges to the waiting carts—not to mention Stiffy’s attitude about ‘good-for-nothing kids not making him any money.’ It wasn’t her fault they had jack-all to do when the storefront’s morning rush died down. But the fib hinged on what she would do, not how she would feel.
First and foremost, she needed to finish her seasonal shopping: a new saddlebag for Roselily and a pair of pink rhinestone sunglasses for Flower Bonnet, to replace the ones she lost on their spring break trip to Mount Rushmare.
She blanked, ears falling back. Oh, ponyfeathers... The Seams and Shades coupon was still laying on the coffee table. She’d have to go back and get it after dropping Roselily off. She sighed. That was the Hope her parents and all her friends knew, forgetting anything and everything remotely important. Business Casual would have her hide if she bought anything over a dozen bits without some sort of coupon.
Speaking of, she needed to stop by Little Bite’s Bakery after work to get the treats he wanted for his seminar tomorrow evening. Why he couldn’t do it himself was anypony’s guess. Had his hooves too full at work or some other excuse. She rolled her eyes. Like always. Typical father crap.
She would get off at seven today, a nice break from the usual ten o'clock. Just enough time to sort everything out before too late. Then she could crash on the couch with a bag of potato chips or some other junk food. It would no doubt kill all the hard work of her pilates classes. She’d hate herself for it later, but sometimes she just had those cravings. And there was no better time to do it than her day off from any and all exercise. Except walking Roselily to school. There was always room for Roselily in her busy schedule.
“Where are you going, Sis?”
Hope blinked, realizing Roselily’s voice came from over her shoulder. She had strolled past Oatley Road without even realizing it. “Sorry,” she said, turning around at a trotting pace. “Just thinking.”
“You do that a lot,” Roselily said, concern furrowing her brow.
Hope shrugged. “Better than not enough.” She let her gaze wander to a couple walking the far side of the street. They were all smiles, sharing an ice cream cone—cotton candy swirl from the looks of it. That sounded like a good treat after dropping Roselily off. She smiled at her sister, who was preoccupied with humming a tune they heard last night on the radio. Ever the little pop diva of the family. She swore Roselily was going to grow up and become Equestria’s next Sapphire Shores. Seeeen-sa-tion-al!
She chuckled, keeping the thought to herself. Roselily made the best pouty faces whenever she mentioned it, but their walks to school were moments to share, not poke fun at each other. And since Roselily continued humming the tune, Hope decided to just enjoy the friendly snow-blanketed world until they arrived at Andalusian.
They made great time today, fifteen minutes before the nine-o'clock bell. She still might have time for a coffee before her shift, if she hurried.
The shouts and screams of playing foals crowded out distant birdsong. One of the fillies on the blacktop spotted them and waved, a tan-colored earth filly with brown eyes. Roselily waved back.
“That’s Caramel Cream,” she said. She took off at a run, leaving Hope to watch from the perimeter of the schoolyard. “I’ll see you tonight, Sis!” she cried over her shoulder.
“Have fun!” Hope yelled back. Sure as sunshine, the saddlebags came flying off to thud on the blacktop before Roselily joined in on a game of tag. She shook her head, turning back for Barleyton. Foals had it so easy.
She stared at the trail of hoofprints they had made. Two pairs: one big, one small. They would be the same size one day. And it wouldn’t be very long, either. Roselily was growing up so fast.
Hope let out a sigh, then laughed at her own sentimentality. That sounded like mom. It would only be a matter of time before she started wearing bonnets and knitting Hearth’s Warming doilies for fun. A shudder ran down her spine.
Well, back to home for the coupon, then to work.
An evergreen hedge along the sidewalk shook as she approached, sending its snow to the ground in a fine powder. She stopped to raise an eyebrow at it. The rustle had been rather large, like a cat or a dog had run smack into the other side.
She stepped closer, head cocked. “That’s not you, is it, Snowball?” It seemed a slim chance given he had run away three days ago, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was a smart kitty.
No answer came from the hedge, nor did it rustle again. It was too large to peer through to the other side, its branches so thick that it looked like nighttime within.
Hope filtered out the schoolyard noise, strained her ears at the surrounding silence. Still nothing. She hummed, wondering just what it could have been, then shrugged. Probably just a feisty squirrel or chipmunk. Maybe even some of the schoolfillies up to no good. Not her place to worry. She continued down the street, letting the crunch beneath her hooves again draw her into fantasies of the coming Hearth’s Warming.
With all the plans she had for her family, this year’s would undoubtedly be the best.