"Why do you like winter so much?"
Sunset Shimmer slowly walked home.
The sun had long since set, the evening snow slowly but steadily drifted from the darkness above to add on to the already inch thick layer blanketing the streets. A cold breeze disrupted the typically tranquil snow, rustling what few leaves that remained on the trees and sending fallen snow into light flurries that danced in the streets. Downtown Canterlot twinkled in the distance, the light snowfall giving it a hazy, dreamlike quality while the occasional street light illuminated the suburban neighborhood
Sunset stopped. She took a glove off.
The freezing air bit into her exposed skin, sending tingles up her arm at the conflicting sensations of warmth afforded by her red sweater and leather jacket and the slow spreading chill of the air.
She held her hand out. A few moments later, a small snowflake fell into her hand, followed by another, and another.
She unwrapped her scarf with a free hand and brought the snowflakes closer even as the wind and cold bit at yet more exposed flesh.
"I dunno."
"You don't know?"
...
"That's weird."
Despite the frigid temperature and the rapid spreading numbness of her hand, the snowflakes were already melting. After a few seconds, the last few tiny drops ran down her hand. Sunset put her glove and scarf back on, and resumed the trek back home.
The streets were empty, so little of the rampant noise of cars and man in general there to fill the void. Even most of the lights in the houses were off, barring the occasional porch light. Sunset rounded the street corner and saw it.
Idly, Sunset wondered what Rarity would think of it. If she saw it, she'd probably say something along the lines of, "Well, it's certainly a quaint cottage-a tad bit on the small side, a little run down but in okay shape. However-the added on garage is more than a bit of an eye sore, clearly no attempt was made to properly integrate the aesthetics there and whoever chose that shade of aqua green for the outer walls deserves to be slapped, but quaint none the less."
Sunset shook her head. She just thought of it as home.
The front light kicked on, flickered and promptly died as she approached.
Sunset sighed.
She fished hey keys out of her pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped through.
"I'm home," she said to no one in particular as she closed the door behind her and flipped the lights on. Her breath misted out in a cloudy vapor in the cooled house. Irritated, Sunset turned on a small space heater-when that failed to do a single thing, she kicked it. It sputtered and came to life.
She put her scarf and jacket on a nearby rack, and tossed her backpack on an old sturdy rocking chair next to a floral sofa in the living room. She pulled her gloves off and flexed her hands several times, feeling warmth and blood slowly flowing back to the surface to drive the chill away.
Now...to study, laze about and watch videos on her laptop until exhaustion takes her, or go to sleep?
Her stomach grumbled.
Food it is.
She walked into the old kitchen, and opened her nearly empty fridge. She spotted pancake mix, butter, and a little bit of probably still good milk.
Pancakes it is.
As she busied herself mixing ingredients together, she looked out the kitchen window over the sink, the light breeze from earlier creating ever greater flurries of snow that danced under the the street lights.
"Well, I know why I don't like winter."
"I'm sure you do."
She paid no mind to the comment."It's cold, nasty, and everything's brown. There's no greens or reds or blues anywhere, and all the cute animals are asleep. It's like someone takes all the color and happiness out of the world and hides it until Spring.
...
"You just don't get it."
It was no secret that Equestrian ponies really didn't like winter. Sure, there was a holiday or two-Hearth's Warming Eve comes to mind-but, unlike the scattered spring, summer, and even fall celebrations, those winter holidays celebrated something which occurred in winter, not because of winter. In fact, Equestrian's disliked winter to the point it only lasted a month out of the year if the weather teams could help it-the calculated absolute minimal time the land, plants and animals need to recharge before ushering in spring. They wouldn't even let it fade away like it naturally would-the Running of the Leaves forced all the old leaves to fall so new ones can come in faster and Winter Wrap Up removed any traces of winter within a week of its scheduled end date.
For ponies, all was right with the world when the leaves were green, flowers bloomed, and all the cute animals scurried. There was just something...wrong, with winter's stillness, its cloying cold, the stark way it painted the world compared to the other seasons.
Sunset liked winter.
She liked the snow covered vistas. She liked the way her skin tingled in the cold air or the tranquility of a quiet snowfall, the crunch of snow beneath her hooves, beneath her feet were music to her ears. She adored the way the sun's radiance came through far more on a crisp, clear winter day than it did at any other time of the year, how it would sparkle and reflect off the snow and ice, painting the world in an entrancing glow.
Other seasons meddled with the senses, mix and matched things up. But winter painted the world in star contrast, ripped everything away until only the most raw and, in her opinion, important things remained behind, like a black and white drawing.
Most of all, she loved the clarity of mind that came with winter. Now, more than any other season, she could actually think, get past the disparate thoughts and feelings and pierce to the heart of what truly mattered.
Sometimes, though, it just brought back memories she would rather have forgotten.
"You know what I think, Sunset?"
"What?"
"I think you're weird."
"Really."
"Yep."
She brought a hoof to her chin in thought. "In fact... I think you'd probably have lots more friends if you were a bit more, well, normal."
She said it with a giggle, harmless. In fact, her smile was one of the most genuine things Sunset had ever seen.
Sunset didn't care. "I'm done."
"Huh?"
Sunset gathered her things. "I promised mom I'd play nice and try to make a friend. You've proven how pointless it is to have friends. Thanks."
The batter bubbled in the skillet, and the kitchen was already filled with the sweet, delicious aroma of strawberry pancakes. Sunset glanced into the kitchen cupboard and smiled when she saw there was still a little maple syrup-not the processed garbage, the good stuff that cost as much as three times or more per ounce.
Sunset didn't remember the pony's name. In fact, she barely remembered her face. Some unicorn with a dark red mane with lots of curls. All she really remembered was the conversation, and the irritation that came with it.
She'd tried (reluctantly) to make a friend, and gave up on the entire endeavor within a day.
Over the past few months, she'd (again, reluctantly) found herself thinking back to that one moment. While it wasn't as life defining as her decision to step through the Crystal Mirror or to steal the Element of Magic, she couldn't escape the feeling it had closed off many doors that would have been open to her.
What if she had been more open? Sure, the filly had been a bit rude, but she had dismissed her and the many others Celestia threw at her in increasingly desperate attempts to foster friendship in her heart. What if she had given friendship a chance, instead of dismissing it outright so early on? Would she have stepped through the Crystal Mirror? Would she still be Celestia's student? Would she have become a princess, fighting threats to Equestria and solving friendship problems?
Did she want to walk Princess Twilight's path?
Sunset's flipped the pancakes. She leaned on the kitchen counter and settled down to watch the snow flurries' dance.
No.
Princess Twilight's path was her own. Even if she could go back, she wouldn't deny Twilight.
Maybe none of those questions were important. Maybe there was only one relevant question.
Was she happy?
Sunset absently curled a few strands of her hair around a finger as she thought.
"Well," she mused aloud. "I'm certainly not unhappy..."
She really wasn't. She had six wonderful friends, an...adequate, at least for now, home, and her prospects were far better than she honestly deserved or expected.
In fact she was extraordinarily lucky, all things considered.
But...
Sunset sighed.
Intellectually, and according to any number of stories with characters in vaguely similar situations to her own, Sunset knew she should be unsatisfied with something about her current situation: a "stranger" in a land far from home.
She wasn't. At least, not really.
She missed being a pony, but being human came with its own advantages. Hands in particular were rather nice. While not readily apparent, the stamina she'd developed jogging a mile every morning as a human outstripped that of her unicorn body, and she suspected it exceeded that of many equivalently aged and fit ponies back in Equestria.
The only thing she really missed about Equestria itself was the magic she once wielded. That had been a genuine ache in her heart for the longest time, but now, with the girls she was discovering a new and exciting magic both similar and so unlike that found back in Equestria.
This is not even to mention the amazing technology of the human world-sure, some of it was pointless, but much of it outstripped Equestria by decades or even centuries, and in her opinion was a magic all its own.
Sure, there were a few individuals she would like to go back and see, but for the land itself-her birthplace, her people and culture, she felt very little
It's kind of funny, really. She was upset that she couldn't find a precise reason to be upset.
Her stomach rumbled just before an acrid scent reached her nostrils.
The pancakes were burning.
A few creative curse filled moments later, Sunset sat at the cottage's small hardwood dinner table.
From the top, they looked positively appetizing. Add a little butter, give it a minute to soften in the pancake's worth, and a healthy dollop of maple syrup, maybe a fresh strawberry and blue berry or three, and it'd look positively mouth watering.
Absently, she poked one with silver fork and folded one side with an audible 'crunch', revealing the stiff, charred remains of the pancake's bottom half. The other proved no better.
Sunset sighed, and threw the pancakes away.
She yawned, and glanced at an old cuckoo clock.
Hunger and tiredness briefly warred in her mind, before ultimately her need for sleep- reinforced with the resurgent memory that tomorrow morning she was meeting with Rarity at a new cafe in town for coffee and gossip--body slammed hunger and threw it off a cliff.
Bed it is.