She had risen because of the lack of desire to sleep more than any desire to awaken.
Sleep was nice and, more importantly, necessary, but it wasn’t productive time for doing. Thinking, sure, but not for planning. For reading. For learning. For accomplishing.
She sat up in her bed, looked out of the window, and observed the violet and crimson tones of the sky. It was a mix. A mixture of day and night, of certainty and questions. Millions of questions yet to be asked. All with their own answers.
The students had been filing in individually or in small groups of friends since the first school bell had sounded off a few minutes ago. She looked out at her not-quite-complete class of fillies and colts and felt her heart well up with so many things.
She knew her students: the great things they had already done and were sure to accomplish, their crushed, young hopes and dreams, the the strong friendships they had formed and would create in the future, the cliques that drove them apart.
The second bell sounded out and it was time for class to begin.
Things were starting to get busy at Sugarcube Corner, which was good, because it’s not like anypony wants to be in a bakery with nopony in it, unless they were feeling grumpy. But how could anypony feel grumpy in a bakery? With cookies, and custards, and cakes! Ooo, cakes were her favorite! Or maybe pies. It’s so hard to choose...oh, cupcakes! Cupcakes were definitely her favorite! They were sweet, and sugary, and gave everypony their own little cake, and made everypony happy, and that’s what made her happiest! Well, that and her bestest friends of course!
She had to be the fastest pony in the skies. No point being second best. Might as well not fly at all. She was an athlete. Just like them. But fast wasn’t nearly enough.
Cool!
She had to stay cool. No point in being the best flyer in Equestria if no pony wanted to see her fly. Only the coolest ponies attract crowds.
Awesome!
Totally different than cool. She had to be awesome. Awesome enough to achieve her dream one day. Probably not today. Sometimes the most awesome feeling is lounging in the clouds and taking it slow.
It was his nature. He was not a fast animal. He was a slow tortoise. It was fine by him, though. He liked slow. Everyone liked slow sometimes.
Cold…
He was cold sometimes. He used to be cold a lot more often, but his new home was warmer. That was good. He liked to be warm. Not hot. Just warm. Warm made him feel safe.
Steady…
He would always be steady. He liked steady. Sometimes steady meant slow. But no matter what, steady meant sure. He had a good life. A steady life that had been full of kindness.
He was selling apples from his family’s orchard in the market.
Ponies.
The market was full of ponies.
The market was full of ponies walking, and running, and playing, and laughing, and crying, and talking, and yelling, and screaming.
Alive
Ponyville’s market was alive.
Ponyville’s market was alive with the energy of colts and fillies, and the coos of doting mothers hushing upset foals, and the the wisdom of elder ponies, and the sights and sounds and smells of produce, and everything else that did and ever would make life worth living.