In a house on the outskirts of Ponyville...
Ponyville, at this time of year, was almost bare of ponies, save for poets and dreamers – future victims of pneumonia. Wind howled loudly, chasing brown, yellow, and red leaves across the street. A lone diamond dog in a brown, patched-up coat passed through the empty streets, carrying a stack of firewood over his shoulder.
The outside world was very cold – the type of cold that seeped in through the cracks in the woodwork to the interior of a small attic on the outskirts of Ponyville. Inside, a tall figure with a brilliant red mane and cream yellow coat shivered, though she herself didn’t really notice.
The unicorn’s eyes were locked on the clouds gathering in the skies above, foretelling a coming storm. She glared at them, wordlessly challenging them to come any closer as though her thoughts could scare them away. Her eyebrows raised in surprise when she noticed her breath turned into fog as it escaped her mouth, but after it evaporated into thin air, she resumed her staring.
“You know, Amber, for somepony who’s scared of storms, you sure spend a lot of time waiting for one,” a voice came from behind her. “Are you feeling yourself a poet now?”
Amber looked over her shoulder towards the inside of the attic and responded, “I just don’t want to be surprised when it comes, that’s all.”
“It’s not like storms can sneak up on you out of nowhere. Come over, don’t stand in the draught out there,” Rain Dancer called to her from a tactical, circular pillow-and-blanket fortification she built to ward off the cold. It looked warm and cosy, the soft, feather-filled pillows and blankets yielded easily under Rain’s hooves as she leaned over the edge of the fort. Right outside its walls stood a small table with a kettle on it.
“I’ve made you some hot chocolate.” And surely, she was holding out a cup filled with dark, liquid bliss. She made one for herself first, though, the selfish lump.
Amber levitated the cup all the way to her spot before the window. Closing her eyes tightly, she took a sip, and focused on how sweet and soft the hot chocolate tasted. It was just above the right temperature and trailed a warming sensation down her stomach. If only it hadn’t burnt her tongue, she’d drink some more of it.
“You’ve got to do that, don’t you?” said Rain from over her pillow fort. She had a mock scowl on her muzzle. “You’ve got to show your superiority, you filthy unicorn.” She stuck out her tongue at Amber.
Amber turned to her with a look of utter innocence. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” Meanwhile, the cup of cocoa completed a second orbit around her. “The cocoa’s great, though.” It started spiralling up and down her sitting form. “I really don’t know what got you so upset. I seriously can’t guess.” It then settled at her hooves.
Rain huffed comically and covered herself with a blanket. She took great care not to spill the chocolate, though. “You won’t chase them off with a stare, you know.”
Although the hot chocolate did much to pacify her, Amber still glared at the clouds over Ponyville. She very much wished she could chase them off with a stare. “It’s the worst when they just sit there. You never know what they’ll do next. Darn things.” Yet again, she flinched.
“They’ll just rain, Amber, nothing more.” Rain paused with a kind smile on her muzzle. “Actually, have you ever tried dancing in the rain? It’s gorgeous!”
The blanket cast shadows on Rain’s blue mane and slate coat, making her look like some kind of evil pagan shaman, although bare of a horn. She seemed ready to chase off into the rain with blanket over her head and dance just to bring some more rain for the sake of it. Thankfully, however, she didn’t. She just sat in the middle of her tactical blanket fort and sipped off the wartime provisions consisting of hot chocolate and more hot chocolate.
“Especially in summer,” Rain continued. “It stops you from sweating. And you can feel all the little refreshing droplets of rain trailing down your neck in the hot air. Best thing in the world, I tell you.”
Amber was still unfazed. With a suspicious frown, she followed the clouds that now had started pouring their contents on whomever had been foolish enough to ignore them. “They’re just waiting to thunder on us. It’s all wooden, you know.” She pointed to the whole structure of the attic. Eventually, though, she grinned at Rain. “And I don’t want to be the one nursing you back to health if you go chasing out there like you did back when.”
"I've drank a special concoction. Now I'm immune to cold. And I've got a thicker fur. And once in a full moon I get canines and really, really feel like howling," Rain said, scratching herself behind the ear with her hoof. "Darn fleas." Amber chuckled at that. “Besides, should any lightning strike you’d be right in its way. Come over here, we’ll chase them off together with hot chocolate and pillows.”
Amber couldn’t help but chuckle. She looked at the rainy world on the other side of the window for a moment, but eventually walked up to Rain with a smile. She sat on a pillow and levitated herself over a few blankets, too. Warm and cosy, a shiver of delight passed down her spine. She noticed Rain struggling slightly with pouring herself another cupful of hot chocolate, and immediately, though gently, lifted the kettle with her magic.
“Show-off!” Rain remarked with a smirk. “And a cheat!” She added, noticing Amber’s namesake amulet glowing dimly.
“But I just wanted to help!” Amber’s mockingly hurt expression quickly turned into a smile. “Besides, I’m impressed by what you can do with your mouth alone.”
Rain pierced Amber with her green gaze, eyes glinting mischievously. “And just what did you mean by that?”
Amber blinked. Then blinked again and blushed furiously. “Wait... um... I... I just meant, with your hooves and teeth... uh... you know, how you get around without magic. It’s impressive, that is.”
Rain smirked, then grinned and broke out into full-fledged laughter. She threw the blanket off her head in the process, revealing her lustrous, though slightly messy mane. Amber, after awkwardly collecting her thoughts, joined not long after. Her friend no longer had even an inch of a mystical air around her. It was just good old Rain.
“But there are ponies all around living without magic,” said Rain.
“Well, you can live without it. You just can’t do some things as well as you could with it. And it helps you reach places.”
“Where, for example?” Rain asked, rising an eyebrow suspiciously.
Amber’s face lit up in a smile. She reached out for a brush nearby, and put a hoof over Rain’s lips. “Shhhh. Let me show you.”
The latter didn’t smile, though. She looked at Amber uneasily, her pupils shrunk slightly in surprise. To that, Amber said nothing. She moved slightly closer to Rain, who now in turn blinked and measured her friend with a notch of suspicion.
Amber didn’t look her in the eye, however. She worked the brush through her sea-like mane. It was incredibly soft and smooth, though, and flowed obediently under the brush. When touched, it gently caressed the hooves. Its slightly feathery ends tickled until Amber brushed them back in line.
What knots there were, Amber carefully unweaved with her magic. She tugged lightly at the strands until each feathery, messy knot fell apart and returned to its wavy, uneven line. Rain, she was sure, felt merely gentle tugs and not a single hair fell off her head. However, Amber could clearly sense growing melancholy in her friend.
Rain eased herself into Amber’s gentle brush strokes, but her mind was still tense. She lowered her head slightly, and deliberately avoided her friend’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” Amber asked.
“Nothing, really,” Rain responded with a quiet sigh. “It’s just... the only pony to ever brush my hair was my mother. And it was... a really long time ago.” She finally looked at her with that strong longing Amber could see deep in her eyes even without the use of magic.
Taken aback, Amber withdrew her brush immediately. “I... I’m sorry.”
Rain almost immediately noticed Amber’s distress and smiled calmly. “No, it’s okay, it’s just… I forgot how it feels to be taken care of like this. It’s really nice. Thank you.” Still, both her heart and eyes showed that longing. The longing Amber could relate to far better than she’d wish to.
What would it be like to have a mother who actually cared about her child, Amber wondered, but kept her thoughts quiet. She’d been raised by series of babysitters, nannies and teachers. Her mother, she hardly talked to, but perhaps that was better. Whenever she talked to her, she had little chance of being listened to.
It was an alien sight to Amber, to see somepony enjoy being brushed so much. She recalled how in her early, homebound years she’d be forced into this brutal ritual by one or another nanny. A maid would place her in front of a mirror and forcibly brush her way through Amber’s mane. Every so often, she’d feel a few hairs torn off her head, which made her flinch. For every movement, though, she’d get flicked painfully on the ear and reminded to hold still.
Amber hesitated for a moment, but just for a moment. She moved closer and drew Rain into a warm embrace, letting their chests touch and their heads rest on each other’s shoulder. A moment drove on in silence and comfortable warmth, as neither wished to pull away. Eventually, Amber offered Rain a smile and got one in return, before she returned to gently brushing her mane.
As the rain outside knocked at the window, hoping to be let in, cold had no such inhibitions. With each moment, it grew, persisted, and overwhelmed the little room in the attic. Amber tried to pour whatever was left of the hot chocolate into her cup, but was met only with thin air. “Shucks,” she muttered. She abruptly stopped brushing Rain’s mane.
“I’ll make you some more,” said Rain in a relaxed tone. Amber’s eyes were still wide, however.
“I’m not sure we’ve got wood in here.” She stood up and trotted over to a hatch in the wall. “Nope. We’re out of wood. And I sure don’t feel like a trip outside in this rain.”
“Ah, yes, there’s no possibility I’m letting you run out in a rain like this.” Rain grinned. “Where do you get your wood from?”
“Usually from the Apple farm. They have some spare fairly often.” Amber looked at the rain-struck window with a scowl. Then she instantly shivered. “A few miles out of town. I’m not letting you go out there either.”
Rain covered her with her own blanket. “I really don’t like the way you’re shivering.” She put a hoof on her forehead. “You’re not hot, though.”
“Not hot?” Amber frowned in mock hurt. “Not hot at all?” She looked ready to chase off into the torrents outside, even if she was only joking.
Rain frowned and once again put a hoof on her forehead. “I’d say you might be a bit weakened. But not hot.” Amber’s frown turned into a comically over-exaggerated scowl. Rain, unmindful of her friend’s expression, drew her own blanket and all the pillows closer, then made a cocoon out of them around Amber and herself. “You’ll need warmth.”
Amber levitated a few pillows over inside their fort and rested on one of them, offering the other one to Rain. But Rain, instead of taking the pillow for herself, stuffed it under Amber’s forehooves. “Lie down,” she said. “If only you didn’t stand at the window like some scarecrow, you’d be better off now.”
Amber smiled. “I needed some time to think, you know.”
“We healthy ponies don’t stand in the draught, you darn philosopher.”
“Oh, shush, you!” They both giggled. Rain’s laugh, however, ended with a heavy sigh when she looked at Amber’s prone form. She brought herself a few pillows and lay down beside her friend. The rain still knocked at the window. The cold still gripped their little forms.
“I’m not going to die, Rain,” said Amber. She felt her friend shift a bit closer, so that their sides touched. She noted how warm and soft to the touch Rain’s body was. Feeling her friend shiver almost made her jump. Her worried, green eyes now sought her own intently. Amber smiled supportively. “But if I do, play ‘Highway to Hell’ on my funeral, will you?”
Rain laughed, but this time the laugh persisted on her muzzle as a smile, and in her heart as a little weight taken off it. “I just really don’t like to see somepony getting sick in front of me,” she said. “I’ll force you under a blanket next time.
Rain’s smile quickly became contagious. “I consent to be forced under a blanket,” Amber said, and shivered almost imperceptibly when Rain gently rested her head atop her neck. Warmth and softness covered one side of her body, while a blanket protected the other.
Amber could feel Rain’s warmth, but she could sense a notch of worry in her, too, buried beneath the warmth. Her soft body shifted slightly against Amber’s side and she touched her cheek to her friend’s forehead to measure the temperature. She then settled her head atop Amber’s with a quiet sigh of relief.
A moment later, when Rain repeated the gesture for the second time, Amber nuzzled her friend’s head off her neck and onto her back. She then lifted her head slightly, to see her friend’s hair better, and grabbed a brush. Rain's hair was far from messy - a nice change from her own tangled locks. The brush moved through it meeting next to none resistance, yet Amber still did it as gently as she could.
Amber could feel her friend sigh softly as more and more tension leaked from her. She stopped squirming and just settled down on the pillows, motionless, eager to be brushed, tilting her head toward the gentle movements of the brush. Rain’s body leaned slightly against her friend and her head rested flatly atop her friend’s back without the slightest impulse to move from there.
“Remember our first storm?” Rain asked.
Amber flinched slightly. “Ah, yes. Horrible memory.”
“Why horrible? I think it was fun, in a way.”
“We were sitting in a flooded cave, with our coats rain-soaked, and every thunder echoing loudly, making me jump. It doesn’t really fit into my definition of fun.” Amber winced sourly at the memory.
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad. We had the whole world for ourselves.” Rain, contrary to Amber, smiled warmly with her eyes closed.
“If by ‘we had the whole world for ourselves’ you mean ‘we were heck knows how far away from the rest of the group, deep in a forest full of timberwolves and whatnot’ then yeah, we pretty much had the whole world for ourselves… and for the timberwolves, but they were just an addition.” Rain grinned, while Amber chuckled slightly.
“Not to mention,” Rain added, “our counsellor was an egotistic lump hating our guts. And the whole group wanted us torn apart because they thought we snitched on them.”
“Well, that was the fun part.” Amber and Rain’s chuckling broke into a laugh.
Now, when the only sound in their fort was the quiet, harmonious breathing of two ponies and occasional sweeps of the brush, Amber’s ears perked up at the knocking on the attic’s window. It was a quiet patter, far off. Ignoring it would be the best option, but it withered, quieted, then died abruptly. She saw Rain’s eyes were closed, but her breaths weren’t shallow, so she wasn’t asleep. “The rain’s gone,” Amber whispered, as though to not wake her friend.
Rain’s eyes fluttered open and she rose her head slightly, then lay it back down. “Yup, it’s gone. You wanted to go outside?” They both chuckled at the sheer absurdity of the statement. “There’s a lesson in it, though.”
“When the time of the White Frost comes, bring pillows and blankets?” Amber offered with a smirk.
Rain smiled and ruffled her friend’s mane with a hoof. “You’ve been sitting down there, watching the rainclouds, but there was no lightning. And you got sick in the end. Almost sick, at least. Maybe it’s better to remember that not every rain’s a thunderstorm?”
The two ponies lay against each other. Their world began at one side of the woolen wall and ended at the other. And it was, truth be told, quite enough for them both.
“Not every rain’s a thunderstorm. I’ll remember.”