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The Creature1,136 words
Sam2,119 words
Reaction1,868 words
A New Resident in Town2,318 words
Day Laborer3,264 words
Afternoon3,420 words
Sleepover2,002 words
Morning2,349 words
Reflection1,995 words
Fallout2,145 words
Ginger Gold2,144 words
Sam's House2,877 words
Epilogue2,896 words

Epilogue

Rose and Sam
Epilogue
Admiral Biscuit

When Sam was done cooking, she put the food on plates, and then I think it occured to both of us at the same time that she didn’t have a dining table.

“I usually just eat at the counter,” Sam admitted. “That wouldn’t be comfortable for you, would it?”

I shook my head. I could eat standing up on my hind hooves if I had to, but I wouldn’t really enjoy the food—which would have been a shame; it looked and smelled delicious, and the thinly-sliced vegetables were something I’d only ever seen at a really fancy restaurant. Maybe Sam could get a job as a vegetable-chopper; some ponies would pay for that, especially in Manehattan or Canterlot.

“I’ve been meaning to get a table, but I haven’t found anybody selling one.”

I could understand her plight. When I’d first moved in with Daisy and Lily, we’d outfitted the house with pass-me-down furniture from our houses, slowly replacing some of the more worn-out items over the course of years. To have to buy it all at once was a big investment, and Sam couldn’t have very many bits, not working odd jobs like she was.

“It just hasn’t been a priority.”

Complaining that she didn’t have a place for me to sit would have been really churlish. We could have had dinner at a restaurant instead of her house, after all. “What about a picnic?”

“Has it stopped raining?”

“Inside.” Her living room was mostly empty, and it wasn’t as weird to eat on the floor if it was a picnic. “We could have the door open if we want a breeze or want to listen to the rain falling.”

Sam nodded. “We can use my bedspread as a cloth, let me go get that.”

She turned and went up the stairs and I resisted the urge to nose around in her cupboards to see what she had and what she didn’t. I could lie to myself and say that I was doing it to see if Sam needed anything that I could offer her, even though I’d still know in my heart I’d been motivated by curiosity and not charity.

I should have come over after dinner, like she’d been expecting. Of course she’d felt she should offer dinner, since I had cooked meals for her yesterday.

•••

It was a little awkward at first to sit on her comforter and eat dinner, but it wasn’t long before I got distracted by the food. Besides the thin-sliced vegetables, the meal tasted different than anything I’d ever eaten before. I knew what all the ingredients were and how she’d cooked them—I’d been watching the whole process—but the combination of flavors she used wasn’t something anypony in town would have thought of.

Had she been a cook before she came to Ponyville? It felt rude to ask. Whatever her past was, she’d tell me in time, and I didn’t think I should press the issue just as we were getting to know each other, not unless she brought it up first.

•••

When we’d finished eating, we washed the dishes together, even though Sam insisted that she should do it, since she was the hostess, and then after that the two of us went back to the living room and sat on the couch.

I could tell by the way Sam sat on it that she’d made her couch comfortable for her, but it was too high for me to get up on easily. It would have felt weird and stand-offish to stay on the floor, though, so I hopped up and settled in next to her.

Daisy, Lily, and I usually stuck together after work. It was always strange when I was home alone, but this was stranger. Even if we’d argued—which we would have, I would be fooling myself to think otherwise. Especially with Sam’s scent still on me. Lily needed time to calm down; maybe she’d feel better in the morning. Maybe she’d miss me around the house. Or . . .

Sam had enough room in her backyard for my flowers and it was cheaper for two ponies to live together . . . I tried to put a stop to that line of thinking. If it happened, it happened. Worrying gave small things big shadows.

“I haven’t really had any guests over,” Sam said. “I—if I was hanging out with a friend back on Earth, we’d watch TV or something. When I was with Berry he liked to have his coat curried at the end of the day.”

I nodded—there was nothing like the feeling of a good currying after being in harness. Or visiting the spa and soaking in the tub, but nopony would want him there. Maybe Aloe and Lotus would let him use the showers, but I thought a lot of ponies wouldn’t like that, either.

“And check over his harness, just to make sure everything’s in good order. Of all the things I never thought I’d learn. . . .”

Her eyes were distant.

“For someone who didn’t spend my life in stables, I was pretty good at saddling—” Sam took a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound really, really weird to you, and it’s not the kind of thing I’d go around telling just anybody, but where I come from there are horses which are a lot like you but way taller and you can ride them.”

“Ride them? You can—” I could feel a blush forming on my cheeks.

“On their backs.”

“Oh, like foals sometimes ride on their mothers’ back.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam sighed. “There were camps for girls that didn’t have a horse of their own, summer camps where you could learn the right way to do it, or go trail riding, or do jumps and stuff. I never liked doing jumps, it felt like I might fall off.”

She was skinny and couldn’t have weighed that much. It didn’t sound that weird. “What is a horse, anyway? I’ve heard of them in songs and stories but never seen one.”

“They’re . . . wait, what? You’ve heard of them?”

I nodded. “They live in Saddle Arabia and wear gauzy veils and blankets and lots of jewelry. They’re as tall as Princess Celestia. Some ponies say they’re even taller.”

“Huh.” Sam seemed completely confused by the idea, I wasn’t sure why. “So, uh, maybe it's rude to ask, but you can put a harness on yourself, right?”

I nodded. “It depends on the style, some are easier to put on and some are harder.” I thought back to what Berry had. I’d only ever seen him with his wagon harness, but he might not wear that in the woods. “How many harnesses does Berry have?”

“Just one. When we were out skidding, he didn’t wear the back part.” She motioned her hand over my rump. “The breeching and its straps, but he needed that put on for the wagon. It was a lot easier for me to do it, once he showed me how.”

“We’ve got a couple,” I said. “Me and Lily share the cart harness, and Daisy’s got a real light sidebacker. Used to have a third, but we traded it in—even when we do Winter Wrap-Up, there’s no need to have all three of us in harness.”

“That makes sense.” Sam shifted around on the couch. “Sorry, I’m not exactly an entertaining host. I’d offer to curry your coat but I don’t even have a curry comb. All I’ve got is my hairbrush, and I don’t know how well that would work.”

“It’s alright,” I said. “I think the rain rinsed off most of the mud, anyway. You—” We weren’t really close enough for mutual grooming, not yet. Although I trusted her. Berry might not have taught her how to do it right, he was a jack and they didn’t care all that much about their coats anyway. What about her species? Was that something they cared about? Who had suggested it, anyway, Sam or Berry? I thought it would be Sam, I thought that she might have seen him brushing himself and then offered to help.

“I’ll get one, before next time,” she said.

“I’ve got an extra, I could just bring it over,” I said. “So, uh, how do you like Ponyville?”

She shrugged. “It’s an interesting little town, and it’s more . . . busy than the woods. I’ve done some exploring on days I don’t have work, just to get an idea where things are.”

•••

The two of us stayed up later than we should have, talking and getting to know each other better. It wasn’t like yesterday where we were complete strangers trying to get a job done. It felt like Sam was more relaxed, maybe just because I was in her house and sitting on her couch.

Or maybe yesterday she’d been worried that I might not pay her. I didn’t like that thought, because it made me wonder if there were some ponies who had hired her and then not paid her. I didn’t know anypony who would take advantage of a helper like that, but maybe she’d met some ponies on her journey who did.

What if that was why she hadn’t come to town right away? What if that was why she’d stayed in the woods with Berry?

Sam had read Lily’s conspiracy newspaper, and she probably thought that a lot of ponies behaved like Lily did.

As the night drew on, Sam told me about some things she’d had and done back at her home, things I couldn’t believe were true. “Being here reminds me of Fort Langley,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a living history museum; they have buildings and showcase what it was like in the Gold Rush days. There are demonstrations about making maple sugar and making barrels and blacksmithing and farming.”

“You’ll have to wait until spring before you can see anypony making maple syrup,” I told her, then covered a yawn.

“I’m sorry, it’s probably past your bedtime. I’ve been keeping you up with chatting . . . and—are you planning to spend the night?”

“You said—”

“I did, and Lily kicked you out.”

It was true but it hurt to have somepony else say it.

“This was easier last night, when I was full of Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s . . . sometimes it’s easier to do things when you’ve had some wine to drink. Or something stronger. Kind of loosens you up.”

“Don’t you want—were you, I thought, were you just inviting me to stay to be polite, to return the favor?”

“I kind of thought you wouldn’t actually come over if I’m being honest.”

“I said I was going to.”

Sam nodded. “Sometimes I forget that ponies seem to be better than humans at keeping their word.”

“Are we going to argue over who gets to sleep in the bed now?” Some ponies had guest beds, but I was sure Sam didn’t. “How am I different from Berry Black?”

“I never shared a bed with him.” Sam sighed. “It felt wrong, since he was a boy . . . a stallion—”

“A jack. Male donkeys are jacks and female donkeys are jennies.”

“Either way, it didn’t seem right.” She rubbed her hand through her hair. “I don’t want to suggest that he did anything bad, Ginger told me a lot of ponies in town don’t trust him because he’s a donkey.”

My ears drooped. I still couldn’t help but think he wasn’t trustworthy, even though that was wrong. He was in no different a position than Sam—and he should have been more familiar, since he was more of a pony than she was.

“Some cold nights it was tempting, though. Maybe if I had pajama pants. It’s just. . . .” She tapped her fingers on the couch.

I could go back home, Lily probably hadn’t barred the door. If she had, I could sleep in the greenhouse, it wouldn’t be the first time.

In my heart, I knew what the right answer was. A lot of ponies who knew Sam liked her and trusted her, but they were nervous because she didn’t look like a pony and didn’t always act like a pony either. And I thought that if somepony didn’t reach out to her, maybe she’d decide to move back in the woods with Berry Black, maybe she’d decide to stay away from ponies like Zecora had for so long, like Berry still did.

I could invite him to dinner sometime. Oh, that would make Lily’s head explode if I invited both Sam and Berry to dinner.

Maybe after we’d hashed out whether Sam was allowed in our house or not.

Foal steps. “I’d, we can share your bed if you want, or if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

•••

I had expected her bedroom to be about as empty as the rest of her house, and it was. There was the bed, a bureau, and a battered nightstand, along with another new wicker basket full of clothes. She might not have had much in the way of furnishings, but she had more clothes than I did. I would have spent my bits on an icebox instead.

Her bedroom had windows on two walls, which was nice. Both of them were cracked open to let a breeze through.

“You can take whatever side you want,” she said. “I don’t have a preference. That’s the only pillow I have, but I’ve got another blanket if it’s too cold. I don’t think it will be.”

“It’s fine.” Her bed was still pony-height, although it lacked a proper headboard and tailboard.

She was still hesitating when I hopped in the bed and nestled down into the covers. Somehow, her scent was comforting and reassuring, almost as familiar as our furniture at home. I think it was a combination of sitting on her comforter in the living room and having a couple of days to be close enough to her to get used to her.

When she sat down on top of the covers, I thought about saying something, but even if she wasn’t a pony I could tell she was uncomfortable. Maybe it was because she was still wearing her shorts.

It must be hard for her to try and fit in. I’d been thinking of things I could tell her, but it might be better to let her move at her own pace. After all, I had been wrong to push Lily so hard. I was going to have to apologize to her tomorrow. Flowers grew at their own pace, and so did ponies.

She finally slid off her shorts and got up so she could fold them over the edge of the basket. I thought she was going to take off her under-pants next, but she didn’t; she laid down on the bed with them still on and pulled the covers over herself.

It had been easier after we’d been drinking; the two of us both tossed around until we’d found positions that were comfortable for both of us—I wound up resting my cheek against Sam’s shoulder and closed my eyes, and I listened to the sound of her breathing and the gentle rain that was still falling. She rolled in my direction and touched a hand to my mane.

That was nice, that was something to concentrate on, instead of my worries about what tomorrow might bring.

•••

I’d mostly drifted off when I felt her shifting around in the bed, and I perked my ears instinctively. “Rose?”

Her voice was a soft whisper. I didn’t realize that I’d fallen asleep, but the rain had stopped and moonlight was coming through the window.

I was about to answer when Sam got off the bed and went over to the window. She pushed it open to let some more rain-fresh air in, then turned and stopped when she saw that I was looking at her.

“Oh. You’re awake. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

I shook my head. She had, but sometimes it was okay to lie. “That breeze feels nice.”

“It does.” She shifted her legs, and looked up. “Your sky is really pretty, I hope you know that. Back home it’s always washed out with streetlights, and you can’t see all that many stars. And the moon—it’s just peeking around the edge of a cloud.”

I was still tired but I got out of bed just the same, joining her at the window. The sky was beautiful; the moon was highlighting the tops of the dispersing clouds, and I saw a pegasus-shadow cross close to town, maybe the last of the storm patrol ponies still on duty. It was a view I rarely paid attention to, and that was my loss. Twilight sometimes talked about things in the night sky and I rarely paid attention to them; it was funny how Sam was making me really notice it.

•••

I don’t know how long the two of us stood at the window together, watching the moon peek around the ever-shifting clouds, watching the lone pegasus on patrol swooping around, watching the twinkling stars spread across the sky, but we finally both decided to return to bed. Sam took a detour—she crossed the room and stepped out of her under-pants, set them across her wicker basket, and then got back in bed, snuggling up against me.

THE END

Author's Note:

Pre-read by TheLegendaryBillCipher, The Red Parade and Topaz Moon

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