DECEMBER 24
I awoke shivering.
Despite practically living in the radio room now, with all the machines' heat warming me, I was chilly. I'd given up my blankets for the effort to save the newcomers, who were being kept in a jerry-rigged warm room off the kitchen. The stove was going non-stop, with the oven door open to emanate into the area partitioned off by cubicle walls. Blankets were draped over the top of the room as a roof to trap in the warmth.
The cold was penetrating into the building - or maybe it seemed that way just because we'd all sacrificed our own comfort for the needy pair, and diverted our heat for their benefit as well. As I descended the stairs from the radio room, the morning sun was desperately trying to shine through the still-falling snow, which was still steadily climbing the side windows of the store - nearing the twelve-foot mark now. I wondered if the glass would take the strain of that much accumulation against it, and filed away a thought that we should at least shovel some of it away from the walls if the weather outside was tolerable.
Along the front wall, near our common area, the tall tree erected yesterday sat, its lights unlit, the decorations failing to glimmer. Christmas was all but set aside for the time being.
Almost everypony was gathered around the common area, at the edge of the 'warm room', looking in on our patients. People made a space when I arrived, and I found myself standing beside Karin.
"Any good news?" I asked.
Karin shrugged. "She lasted the night," she said with an optimistic tone.
I nodded. "That's good, I guess." I glanced around. "The little one?"
"Sleeping," she said, gesturing with her chin to a bundle in the corner of the room. "I think she's going to be all right."
"Good," I agreed, then turned my attention back to the mother. "What's her prognosis?"
"Like I said, she hasn't died yet. But she also hasn't woken up, or even moved at all."
"Want some coffee or something?" Greg asked, as he ventured into the room, to gingerly pass by the still unicorn into the kitchen.
A rumbling of approval noises came from the cluster of us. "Bring a hot chocolate for me," I asked.
"Will do."
"So, what do we do, doc?" I asked Karin, turning to face her.
The earth pony sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "Her pulse is steady, but not exactly strong. She's breathing, but hasn't woken up. Her skin... well, hide, temperature seems to be getting back to normal. Pupils are sluggish," she said with a wince. Apparently that wasn't a good sign. "She might need more help than I can give her."
"I can try to make a call for help later on," I said, "providing the antennas haven't been damaged by the storm."
"Everything is good up there," Serge offered. "I've been checking on the roof."
I nodded at him, and told him of my suggestion for the areas around the outside of the building. He agreed, and he and Jenn went off to try to do something about it.
"Thanks," Karin said once that mild interruption was over. "I'm almost wondering if I shouldn't try to feed her something. I mean, you're not supposed to put anything down the throat of an unconscious person, but when the alternative is..." She trailed off, then stole a glance to the corner of the room. "And speaking of feeding, I don't know if that one is still nursing or not."
I blinked. "Don't look at me," I blurted out without thinking. Karin snerked and so did Swift on my other side.
"I didn't mean that," Karin said. "Just that we may need to come up with some nutrition for both of them in a hurry."
"Understood," I acknowledged, then took the hot chocolate Greg had delivered to me. "Thanks," I told him.
"I'll let you all know if there's a change," Karin said, waving a hoof at us. "No reason for everypony to hang around."
"K, you've been up all night," Jeff said with concern in his voice. "You need rest too."
"She needs somepony with medical training to be here if-"
"You just said you can't do much else for her in this state," he pointed out. "If I have to carry you to bed, I will. If she wakes, or anything changes, whoever's watching her will come get you."
Karin seemed to mull it over, not answering her mate.
"Right, then," he said, and crouched low, crawling under her and then standing up straight.
"Eeep!" she squealed, ending up draped over his back.
"I warned you!" he declared.
"Wake me if something happens!" she called out to Swift, Morgan, and I as she was carried away.
I glanced over at Swift, who was giggling, and saw Morgan's smile as she waved at Karin, and grinned myself, accepting that it was okay to show mirth.
"I'll watch her. Them," Morgan offered, nodding towards the tiny bundle in the corner. "You've got other things to do."
I shrugged. "I can go make that radio call," I agreed.
Swift blinked and realized they'd omitted telling me one thing that had transpired overnight.
"Hey, little man," I called out, approaching the tree.
Curled up underneath it, missed by my once-over earlier, was a yellow, orange, and white ball of fur, which momentarily stirred.
"What time is it?" he asked sleepily.
"Time to be up," I said. "Go get some hot chocolate from Greg and come over to my place."
"Okay," he replied, standing up and stretching.
A few minutes later, Randy trundled up the stairs, a mug of hot chocolate carried on his back.
"Good balance," I complimented him.
"It's nice and warm," he said, smiling a little, then reached back to take it by the lip of the mug, setting it down on the floor, then flopping down before it. "But pouring it all over myself would've been sticky and messy."
"You got that right," I chuckled, taking a sip of my own drink. "How you doin'?"
"Okay, I guess," he said with a shrug of his wings. Where did he learn that? I began to wonder, but then realized I'd adopted the same behavior myself some time ago subconsciously. "Are the ponies we found last night gonna be okay?"
"It's too early to tell," I admitted honestly. "The little one, probably yes. The mom, she survived the night, but... it's still touch-and-go."
"What's wrong with her? Did she freeze?"
"We're not sure, bud," I told him. "If we knew, we could help her."
Randy was silent for a moment, looking into his mug and finally taking a sip. Then he said, "Why didn't... whoever did this to us" - he pointed a hoof at himself and me - "make sure we couldn't get hurt?"
"That's a really good question," I said. "I wish I knew the answer. I wish I knew the answers for a lot of questions like those."
"I don't mean,... I don't mean like Superman," Randy went on. "I mean... I know people are coming back at different times. Those people we rescued last night... they didn't do anything wrong. They were in their car back in May and all of a sudden it was Christmastime and really cold and snowy, and they crashed. Right?"
"Mm-hmm," I nodded, impressed at his grasp on the situation.
"So why didn't whoever did this make sure they would've been okay when they came back?"
I looked over at him while I sipped on my drink, and almost stopped short. His wide, probing eyes finally clued me in. He was thinking of his own family, in their car in the rest area he'd been found in, but 'coming back' at who knows what point in time.
I reached over and gave him a one-forelegged hug. "Idunno, little guy," I said. "I guess it means we'll have to do a better job of watching out for people coming back, since we can do something about it when they do show up."
He didn't respond, taking another sip of his drink, so I went on. "And by the way, you did a great job last night, even if you didn't listen to me."
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"You're not listening," I said, pushing a smile up onto my muzzle. "You being there meant I didn't have to leave them alone to come back out and tell you to go for help. So I could stay with them and warm them up a little."
He smiled in response to my own expression. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"Don't make it a habit, though. If somebody tells you to do something, make sure you do it. And before you give me grief, I promise to think about what you're capable of and not keep you out of something just because of your size. Okay?"
"Deal," he smiled. After a moment, he changed the subject. "Are we still having Christmas?"
"Of course," I answered, without thinking of the situation. "You need to be in bed on time so Santa can come."
"You think Santa's already come back?" Randy asked wistfully.
"Oh, he's special," I backpedaled. "I think he was able to get around it all."
Thankfully, Randy let my imminent disaster of a conversation peter out, and he went off to prepare for the next day. I turned my attention to the radios and the plea I needed to put out.
"Hello," I said soberly, eschewing the cheery and sometimes boisterous introduction I was becoming known for. "Sudden Storm here with an important message."
"I know it's Christmas Eve and everypony should be in the holiday mood, but we have a situation in Ponytown that's kind of urgent. You've heard me talk about the brutal storm that's been kicking our flanks here for the past few days. Well, last night we found a couple of ponies who came back in the middle of that storm, and obviously unprepared. We brought a mom and child into Ponytown, and the child has revived, but the mom is in poor shape. Our medic has done everything they can for her, but she needs more help than we can offer. So, if you have, or are, a doctor, we need you. Please come to Ponytown at your best speed."
At the end of it, I was, for the first time, at a loss for words, so I just switched the microphone off.
"Phew," Serge said, as he and Jenn came in from the garage. "That was a lot of work."
"Looks like you did good," I said, gesturing to the now-cleared windows around two sides of the place.
"Yup," Jenn agreed. "Luckily it wasn't too wet and heavy."
"Got a path about six feet wide done around the whole building," Serge declared. "I think that should do. The sun's actually out too, so the cold isn't quite as biting."
"Good to hear," I nodded. "You two should probably go to the kitchen and soak up some warmth."
"Go ahead," Serge told Jenn. "I have something else I'm gonna do. Thanks for the help."
As Jenn smiled and nodded, heading off, I said to Serge, "What's up?"
"I've been inspired," he said with a broad smile. "You'll see." With that, he retreated to the warehouse side of the building.
I went to the kitchen to catch up with Jenn, and found Morgan curled up on the floor, literally watching over our young charge.
"Hi, you two," she said, lifting her head and looking over at us. "No change, unfortunately."
"That's okay," I nodded. "Stability is probably good at this point."
"True 'nuff."
Jenn let out a contented sigh as she settled into place near the open oven - but not close enough to deny our patient her much-needed warmth.
"You know of any medics, doctors, or healers back where you came from?" I asked Morgan.
She shook her head. "Nobody you want to trust anybody you care with."
"Gotcha, just thought I'd ask."
"I thought I heard somepony," said Jeff as he came into the room from the dorms area (the former shops and stores corridor). "I was hoping that meant good news."
"Well, like they say, no news is good news, right?" Jenn offered.
"I guess," he said, glancing at our patient. "But I think K would prefer something more substantial."
"We all would," I agreed, letting my own eyes linger on the still form. At least she was breathing, though slowly and somewhat unevenly. "I put out the call earlier, so if there's help to be had, it's coming."
"Optimist," Morgan shot at me with a smile, indicating she was just teasing.
"Gotta stay that way," Jeff said. "It's what got us all through this whole mess, and brought us here."
The sound of somepony walking on the roof, compressing the snow, made everypony look up.
"It's just Serge," I said, dashing anyone's hopes that somebody had already showed up to help us out. "Went up there about fifteen minutes ago, saying he was" - I did the pony version of finger quotes - "'inspired'. Whatever that means."
"Is he maybe stamping out a distress message?" Jeff wondered.
"Anypony... anybody," I corrected myself, thinking of our non-equine contacts from so long ago, "who would be able to see that has the tech to be able to listen to us too." Then a thought struck me.
Maybe he's getting closer to his god... asking for a favor.
"I'm gonna go check on K again," Jeff said. "She hit the hay pretty hard when I finally got her to lie down."
"Make sure she stays well," Jenn told him. "We can't afford to have her incapacitated."
"I will," he smiled, turning and departing.
Morgan sat there, staring at the still form on the cot by the kitchen, ruminating.
"What's on your mind?" I finally asked her.
She took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding. "Just wondering where the karma and justice in the world got to. I mean, we've been dealt a pretty colossally shitty hand here, all things considered."
"Mm-hmm," I agreed, helping myself to some more hot chocolate.
"We'll persevere," Jenn offered. "This isn't something we can't overcome."
"Maybe not all of us," Morgan said, still looking at the ailing mother. "Back home, they would've thrown her out into the street by now. Wouldn't have wasted the effort caring for her."
"No, they wouldn't have," Jenn scoffed. "That's too harsh-"
Morgan fixed her with a stare. "You haven't seen what they're like," she simply said.
I tried to head off the chance of an argument before it got rolling too much. "Did you encounter anypony - anybody," I corrected myself (it was getting habitual), "on your way here, Jenn?"
"Just Randy," she said, shaking her head. "Before we picked up your transmission, we almost assumed we were It, with a capital I."
"I know the feeling," I responded, but truth be told, other than the first few hours after waking up as a pony, I really didn't. I'd met Swift fairly early on compared to all the rest of these folks. I had it easy when put up against almost everyone else.
Trying again to change the subject, I said, "Has anypony thought more about a Christmas dinner?"
"Can't really use the oven while we're using it for her," Morgan murmured, gesturing to the mother with her chin.
"...Right," I said, feeling defeated.
"We can make up something that doesn't need cooking," Jenn suggested. "I mean, it's a safe bet none of us are feeling like a traditional Christmas turkey with all the trimmings."
"True," I smiled.
Jenn got to her hooves and stretched. "Right. Up, both of you."
"What?" Morgan said, her eyes finally leaving the still form on the cot, to follow Jenn.
"You've been conscripted as my helpers," Jenn smiled. "Operation Christmas Dinner is underway."
I have to admit I was impressed when all was said and done.
The six of us - Swift and Rich stumbled upon the Operation and were drafted promptly, and Randy too when he came to look for me - actually put together a pretty decent feast. Jenn played the part of master chef, with Morgan and Swift her assistants; Randy, Rich, and I were basically the hired help, or grunt work, fetching things from the food storage, hauling product back and forth, and counting off time while certain dishes were set out to wait for one reason or another.
By the time that we normally ate rolled around, the tables we normally used as serving stands - for ponies to take what they wanted and retreat to their usual eating places - were all pushed together and covered with some tablecloths, and in turn the tablecloths were held down by place settings, and bowls and platters full of delicious-looking fare.
The stovetop hadn't been off-limits, though it was awkward to work on with the oven door open to help warm the mother. Jenn made it work, though, and steamed vegetables of many kinds were prepared and waiting for us. All sorts of garden fare was on the table, presented in many traditional and non-traditional ways. It definitely looked like a huge, genuine Christmas dinner, minus the meat.
Swift, ever the optimist, had even set out two extra plates - one child-sized, one adult portion - just in case.
Everypony was summoned, and were clearly impressed. The unicorns had taken to hanging some decorations in the time after the food prep was done, and putting a few candles out on the table - it actually felt festive, finally.
"You guys should be commended," Greg declared, sitting down and eyeing the feast.
"Everypony played a part," Jenn said. "Even those of you who weren't here in the kitchen."
"We wouldn't have been able to be here like this tonight if we hadn't had someone tending a fantastic garden all year," I said, catching on. Karin and Jeff smiled sheepishly.
"We all contributed in our own way," Rich agreed.
Everyone took their places around the table and paused, noting my attention towards Serge. He had his head bowed and eyes closed, and was murmuring something silently. Others caught on quickly and dipped their own heads in kind.
After a moment, we all looked back up and began to dig in.
It was almost like normal life again.
The dinner brought everypony together and let them communicate with one another, sharing ideas, thoughts, and even emotions. Even still, it was helpful and hopeful, and provided the healing boost our own morale needed. Having everypony gathered around a table, sharing a meal and just talking to one another, was the medicine that most of us required.
If I had anything to say about it, our habit of taking food back to our own living spaces and eating in isolated groups was going to fade away pretty damn quick.
"We never had Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve back home," Randy piped up in between mouthfuls.
"Did you have it on Christmas Day instead?" I asked him, and he nodded.
"Me too," Jeff said. "Well, before I went away to university. Christmas dinner at the U was more likely than not a fast food burger or some pizza."
"Or some toaster waffles," Rich spoke up with a smirk, and a few people laughed.
"Well, this spread is amazing," Karin chimed in. "Thank you all."
"No problem," Jenn said. "I'd been thinking about it - for tomorrow, like some of the rest of you - but when we got talking about it this afternoon, I decided we needed the pick-me-up."
"You got that right," Swift agreed, and Morgan beside her nodded.
"I probably won't be able to move when this is all over," Greg declared. "I've stuffed myself so much compared to normal meals that I'll just lie down here and pass out."
"You're probably not the only one," Serge smirked. He turned to regard Randy beside him. "All the good little boys and girls need to head to bed early tonight."
"So Santa can come," Randy nodded, finishing the thought. "Stormy already told me."
"Oh?" Serge said, with a quirked eyebrow my way, but then he recovered. "That's right. How is he going to bring all his presents unseen, like normal, unless everypony's nestled all snug in their beds?"
Serge's line reminded me that in the days leading up to the holiday, I'd originally planned to 're-write' The Night Before Christmas to take into account our new pony states, and put it on the radio broadcast tonight, but with all the distractions, it'd slipped away. Maybe I could come up with something quick after dinner.
Swift was about to say something, but a noise from the far end of the room - away from the kitchen - distracted us all. First came a whimper, then sounds of struggling and flailing about. Then, a new, shrill voice, crying and sobbing: "Mama!!"
The mood in the room deflated instantly, falling like the ears of most of us as our heads swiveled towards the child bundled up in the corner. Tiny legs were thrashing about trying to get untangled from the blanket, and the post-toddler-aged child was wailing and hollering out of confusion for her new form and terror at being separated from her mother.
"I've got this," Karin said, backing away from the table and standing up.
"I'll help," Swift and Morgan stereoed, moving to join her.
Rich looked at his plate, and around at the rest of us who'd likewise finished our meals, and began to collect them, to clear the table.
The rest of the night went as you might expect. The three girls managed to calm the child down, although it took a long time. She turned out to be five, at least in human years, and her name was Tammy. We couldn't get a last name out of her due to her hysteria over her mother.
If there was any question over whether her mother was just sleeping and needed to be roused, the shrieking that went on in the kitchen when they were brought together sealed any doubt. Tammy was inconsolable as she snuggled up against her mother's still form, begging for the latter to wake up. As much as I wanted to be strong and supportive, I couldn't help but think of my own missing family, and had to take my leave.
Randy must have been affected too, because he joined me in my room shortly after.
"You okay, bud?" I asked him.
"Thinkin' of my mom," he muttered.
"I know, buddy. C'mere," I said, lifting a wing, which he gratefully snuggled under.
"She's not going to make it, is she?" he asked, with a hint of a sniffle penetrating his voice.
At first I thought he was talking about his mom, but then I realized he was referring to Tammy's mother. "I dunno," I told him the truth. "It doesn't look good right now."
"Can I sleep here with you?" he asked.
I nodded. "I don't wanna be alone tonight either, bud," I said, huddling close to the little guy.
I'd like to say I slept the whole night, but fragments of dreams and nightmares resulted in a fitful rest. I didn't get up and wander as I was normally wont to do, though, because of my young charge under wing (literally).
Finally, after a long, long restless sleep, I felt a nudge on my muzzle. "Stormy!" came a hissing whisper.
I cracked an eye open and found Randy standing before me, excitedly trembling. He reached out to plant a hoof on my nose a second time just as I opened my eye.
"Stormy!" he whispered again, hoarsely. "He's been here!"
Sunlight was streaming in the windows; it was early morning. Maybe eight o'clock, or a little earlier.
"Who has?" I said, playing dumb.
"Santa!" he shot back elatedly, and hurried down the stairs.
I got up and went after him at a more relaxed pace. His galloping clopping over the floor surely woke everypony else up, if they hadn't been awake already waiting for his reaction.
I probably gave them some amusement with my own response, too. I stood and stared slack-jawed at the tree, which yesterday had been partially-decorated with a meager one or two wrapped gifts beneath it. Now, garland and makeshift ornaments and lighting encircled the tree from all its boughs, and giftwrapped boxes and other shapes spilled out over the floor for nearly five feet in all directions.
"Wow!" Randy gushed, hopping back and forth looking at all the gifts. Slowly, others began arriving, some smiling, some reacting with surprise as I did. One who wasn't surprised was the white pegasus pony sitting there with a smile on his face.
Randy noticed the wet hoofprints leading from the back warehouse area (the door to the roof), circling around the tree a couple of times, and then tracking over to the kitchen, where a plate of milk and cookies had been left out for the jolly old elf (if he was even still an elf). He declared that Santa must have come down from the roof, set out all the presents, and then stopped to have a break before moving on to the next place with ponies.
I smirked and caught Serge's eye, bringing a hoof to my mouth and miming rubbing it. He froze, then lifted his own hoof to wipe, first one side, then the other, and finally brushed away the cookie crumbs from his chin. I laughed silently and nodded.
There were gifts for everypony, not just Randy - though he had the lion's share. There were even some with 'Tammy' and 'Tammy's mom' scrawled on the tags, which nearly made my heart break. The young filly was still keeping watch over her mother, and it seemed almost disrespectful for the rest of us to be celebrating with them in the other room, but I was assured that they were being watched over.
Everypony got a new set of boots, based off an improved version of Jeff's original pattern from way back when Swift and I first met him. The new ones were lined with a warm comfortable material salvaged from something else in the store - maybe stuffing from throw pillows or something like that. Randy also got a winter hat that fit over his head, with the human-styled 'ear flaps' removed since they were no longer necessary. There were toys and fun presents as well, but a lot of the stuff everypony got was functional and practical, a necessity in our new existence.
Eventually we all began to disperse, some of us to play with our haul and others to attend to tasks that didn't vanish just because it was Christmas. I caught up with Karin as she headed for the kitchen.
"How're things doing?" I asked her.
She sighed a ragged, sad sigh, and it was only then I realized her eyes were red - she, and others, had been putting on a brave show all morning long. "Not good," she admitted. "I really thought Tammy's presence would help her."
"It's not?" I asked.
Karin shook her head. "I think... I think she's shutting down. Pulse is weaker, resps are slowing slightly."
I frowned. "C'mon, kiddo, there's gotta be something-"
"I've tried," Karin all but wailed. "Everything I can think of. Everypony's tried everything. Stormy, we're going to lose her."
I shut my eyes and sighed, fighting off the despair that threatened to engulf me. "Is she comfortable?" I finally asked.
"That's what I'm doing," Karin nodded. "It's all I can do."
"Have you talked to Tammy?"
"She's asleep. Been there all night and all morning by her mama's side." She looked away. "Maybe she already knows."
I let it sink in to my head for a moment. "If there's anything you need-"
"A Christmas miracle would be nice," she shot back bitterly, then softened. "Sorry, I know you're trying to help. I just... don't wanna feel so helpless."
"None of us do," I agreed. We walked the few feet around the partition wall and took in the image of the dormant pony and her young daughter.
"I'm gonna keep an eye on her," Karin said. "Just in case."
"Okay," I nodded. "Do you want company?"
She shook her head. "If I need something, I'll call out." After a moment, she added, "Maybe get Serge to pray."
"All right," I said. "I hope things turn out."
She just walked into the room slowly, focused on her patient fully.
I'd retreated to my room, and set up the radio to play Christmas music on a loop. I didn't feel like making any of my own broadcasts, even though I'd intended to earlier. I just wasn't in the mood.
My disjointed sleep from the night before must have caught up with me, for I found myself dozing off in the midafternoon.
Some time later - how long, I have no idea, except that the sun was in the process of setting - Randy was whispering at me again, poking me once more. "Stormy. Wake up."
I looked at him and blinked - he was wide-eyed and almost trembling.
"What's the matter?" I asked, but he shushed me.
"There's... somepony... in the kitchen."
"Yeah, it's Karin," I said. "Watching over Tammy and her mom." I realized he wasn't aware of what the prognosis was, and began to steel myself to break the news.
He was shaking his head. "Karin's there asleep on the floor, and Tammy's asleep too. I don't know who the other one is."
"Other one?" I asked, rising to my hooves.
I used my new boots to keep my hooffalls silent on the floor. Randy was under direct orders to stay in the radio shack and wait for me to call out to him. He'd flown around the place before coming to get me, and everypony else was either out or otherwise occupied. Some had received items for Christmas that had outdoor applications, and were probably outside trying them out, now that the weather had finally broke and it was only chilly instead of downright freezing. At least one other pair - Jenn and Greg - were in their store-turned-dorm with the door shut, and shall we say occupied with one another.
The only two ponies that appeared to be awake and available to deal with the situation were me and Randy, and despite what I'd said about appreciating his help the other evening, I didn't want to expose him to what might be coming for Tammy's mother.
When I crept around the corner and saw a cloaked figure standing there, with its back to me, I at first thought it was a pony Grim Reaper. No sickle, though, I commented to myself, and realized the hood was not a hood, but a hat.
"I guess not everypony is out," the figure said, in English, but with a peculiar accent - not one I'd heard in any place in the world. She didn't turn to face me, still focusing on Tammy's mother - who, I now noticed, was enveloped in a lavender glow.
I noticed that Tammy wasn't there, and whipped my head around to seek her out.
"She's with the guardian," the cloaked pony said casually, gesturing with a hoof towards Karin. Both of them were sprawled out on the floor, motionless. "And relax. They're just sleeping. This spell takes concentration, and their interruption would have been troublesome."
I stepped forward. "Are you helping her?"
"More than your kind has," she shot back, still facing away from me. She made a tch'ing sound. "Do you not have any unicorns here at all? Or at least with any modicum of skill?"
"They tried everything they could," I said, then made a calculated risk based on the accent I was hearing. "But I'll bet they don't have access to the kind of spells you do."
The cloaked figure chuckled. "Very astute, native; yes, I'm not 'from here'." She continued channeling magic into Tammy's mother. "There are very few of us here, to watch over you and make sure your... transition... goes somewhat smoothly. We're supposed to stay in the shadows, but I heard your plaintive cry for help on one of those primitive, magickless boxes, and I knew my skills were required."
"Thank you," I said softly.
"Well, it's not like any of you could have accomplished this," she shot back.
I blinked. "Humble, too," I bit out.
"Hah," she said, her foreshoulders jerking with the laugh. "Bother me not, I'm almost done."
I stood there in silence, watching the flow of magic continue, and staring in surprise as the figure which had laid on the cot in our kitchen for days began to shudder. A few moments later, her barrel began rising and falling again, in a more consistent rhythm, and her limbs trembled, then were still - though she wriggled slightly, becoming restless for the first time since I'd first laid eyes on her.
"She's going to wake up?" I asked.
"In due time," the cloaked figure responded. "Rejuvenation takes a lot out of a pony. She was so close to the threshold, it took a lot to coax her back."
"You healed her?"
"Of course," the mare simply said, as if it was a pedestrian thing, barely worth her attention.
"...Thank you," I finally told her.
"Uh-huh," she said. "I don't need your thanks, but I do give you - her - this gift in exchange for something from you."
"What's that?" I asked, wondering if she was going to demand one of us go with her in return. Or maybe something mundane like give her food and water for when she returned to 'the shadows'.
"Others who may come - your kind, and Equestrians alike - when you tell them of this one's survival..." She turned her head, and fixed me with a smirk plastered across her powder-blue muzzle. "Tell them that somepony Great and Powerful was the one to come and help."
Karin and Tammy awoke not long after the cloaked unicorn disappeared in a puff of smoke - or, rather, caused some smoke to appear and then galloped away towards the main doors. I thought of giving chase, but the well-being of my friends and guests overrode my desire to know more about the strange pony.
In short order, people started showing up, some just because it was close to dinnertime and they wanted some leftovers from the night before, and some simply because they'd finished whatever they were doing and decided to come gather. It was almost clichéd how everypony came out of the woodwork after the mystery pony had left.
My story was met with doubt and skepticism, but given the impossible things we'd all been through in the past three-quarters of a year, nobody was willing to discount me entirely.
Swift and Rich, understandably, were miffed that they didn't get to see this supposedly 'great' and 'powerful' unicorn. I reminded them that I barely got to see her myself - all I knew was that she wore a long cloak concealing herself, a floppy but pointy hat, and had a powder-blue coat and silvery-white hair. She didn't even offer up her name.
Everyone was intrigued by the thought of 'Equestrians' being among us, even if they were in hiding. A conversation was struck up on what that meant and the questions it raised.
Finding an Equestrian and shaking them, demanding to know why my sister and her family, and Randy's family, and everybody else's friends and loved ones, had to vanish was a fleeting thought through my mind.
The conversation came to an abrupt halt when the pony on the cot began to stir.