Of the four great hives, the Enchanters are held as the most powerful in their ability to charm and wrap ponies around their hooves, coaxing them to walk into their web. But sometimes, sometimes, a pony does manage to turn the tables.
Of the four great hives, the Enchanters are held as the most powerful in their ability to charm and wrap ponies around their hooves, coaxing them to walk into their web. But sometimes, sometimes, a pony does manage to turn the tables, and enchant one of these masters of charm and sensuous wiles.
If it means a chance to hold that colt in his hooves, Maple will quite happily send word to his parents back in Paradise. This handsome pegasus with a lovely periwinkle coat, comically long name, and eyes of molten gold stole his heart the moment he stepped hoof in Respite.
Preread by Rossby Waves, Timaeus, and Wing. Cover art by Arcticwaters.
Maple liked to think of himself as an Enchanter of a different shape. While his mother, father, brothers, and sisters back home in Paradise were svelte and curvaceous, their forms sculpted and groomed to perfection so ponies’ eyes wandered against their own volition, he preferred to think that his own build made him unique. Pleasantly plump, as his Auntie Vigil would say.
He moved about his stove with precision and grace rivaling a trained dancer, pouring pancake batter into the pan and stirring his simmering syrup with such expert ease one might say he could do it all blindfolded. In fact, he just might. The temptation was certainly there, and who else could claim such talent and dexterity around a stove?
Though that would take away from his chance to steal a peek into the main dining room. Or two peeks. Maybe three.
Or twelve. In the last minute alone.
Oh, how his brothers and sisters would tease him so if they saw him. An enchanted Enchanter, they’d crow. Just like Beguile, the famed masseuse who could hold his own against the Queen herself, Maple had become utterly enamored by a pony.
But who could really blame him? Maple licked his lips, his eyes flitted toward the portal, that connected the kitchen and dining room, again. Another look. That’s all he wanted. Like a deep drink of love, another look at the messy-maned pegasus would sate his thirst. He had to take the chance now, while the colt was still sitting and tinkering with those funny glass containers and bottles. For once he left, Maple would have to make due without his handsome visage, leaving only the memory.
A memory would be enough. A drink of love, though, or even just a taste—oh! If only he had been born a Caretaker!
Maple stepped away from the stove and reared up, resting his hooves on the windowsill while he gazed longingly at the colt seated at the table closest to the door.
His brilliant gold eyes narrowed and flashed with interest behind black square-rimmed glasses as he hunched over his work. His brows furrowed together, his ears twitched at every clink of silverware or glassware as ponies and changelings dined around him. Expert hooves lifted the strange containers and bottles, coaxing a droplet or two of multicolored liquid into the mixture. His coat was a soft, powdery periwinkle blue, like something straight from a painting of the winter sky. A color that suited him quite nicely, in Maple’s opinion.
After all, hadn’t Sure Stroke mentioned that he hailed from the Altocumulus district of Cloudsdale? The place where frost formed every day of the year, where snowflakes were fashioned, and even yaks would shiver should they visit.
Altocumulus from Altocumulus Terrace. A colt with entrancing eyes and a coat even Paradise’s painters would struggle to depict.
Any Enchanter would love to have him in their web. But they didn’t. It was Maple who got a front row seat to look at him and appreciate his form.
Maple sighed and let a dreamy smile spread across his chubby cheeks. I bet he tastes just like maple syrup when he’s happy. His eyes wandered over Altocumulus shamelessly, from his soft downy feathers, to his velvety smooth coat, all the way up to the tips of his ears—oh, how Maple would nuzzle them and croon sweet nothings that would coax a blush to those dusty blue cheeks! And his lips …
The Enchanter cook licked his own. They looked so soft, like they were just begging to be nipped and kissed. Maple was half a mind to oblige that silent request. Maybe two-thirds. An urge which grew progressively more irresistible ever since that brief meeting the day after he first arrived in Respite.
Oh, what a day that had been!
Maple had been on duty at the counter, happily greeting customers and taking orders, exchanging food for love or bits, when Sure Stroke ambled in with the newcomer who’d sent the village into a tizzy with his thunderhead stunt a few days prior.
“This is Sweet Treat’s shop,” Sure Stroke had informed him while they trotted up. “She runs it with the help of her nephews—Peppermint and Spearmint—and her wife’s nephew, Maple.” The filly paused to gesture toward Maple. “Hello, Maple. This is my cousin, Altocumulus. Altocumulus, this is Maple.”
Maple took the cue. “Hello, Altocumulus,” he’d greeted.
Those golden eyes followed her soft violet hoof to meet Maple’s. The young Enchanter remembered all too well how his breath caught in his throat while they just stood and stared.
Then Alto broke the silence. “Your eyes are an interesting color,” he’d said. “Amber, I think? I’ve not seen it in ponies before.”
Attention to detail. And such a handsome face.
Who could possibly blame him for falling so?
The acrid scent of smoke wafted through the air, burning his nostrils. Maple blinked twice, then sniffed. Had Pepper and Spear left their sweetbreads in the oven again?
“Maple!” Pepper cried, causing him to whip his head around to find his cousin standing by the stove. Maple’s stove.
Where a plume of smoke was rising from the pancakes he’d been making.
Maple let out a startled chitter and bounded over, shoulder blocking his cousin to the side. “No, no, no, no, no!” he wailed as he frantically flipped off the burner and tugged the pan away with a jerk of magic. He buzzed his wings to clear the smoke, hoping against hope that he’d managed to get there in time.
Four charred black discs greeted him when the smoke finally cleared. His shoulders slumped, he let his rump hit the floor with a dejected chitter as his ears pinned back against his mane. “I … But I …”
“Maple?” Peppermint said softly, leaning down to rub their shoulders together. “Are you okay?”
His throat tightened. Tears began to sting the corners of his eyes. He shook his head, his hoof leapt to cover his mouth to muffle a low, mournful whine. “I burned my pancakes,” he muttered.
He heard Peppermint draw in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth, then felt a hoof pat his shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s only one batch. This sort of thing just … happens.”
A cadence of hooves thumping against the wood floor made his ear flick. “To Maple? When he’s cooking pancakes?” Spearmint asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him burn the edge of a pancake, Pep.”
“Spear! Not helping!”
“I’m not trying to be mean!” Spearmint stepped around Maple and bent down to meet his gaze. Those big green eyes were full of concern, his flour matted coat brushed against unblemished carapace. “You’re not feeling sick today, are you Maple? You’re kinda hot.”
Maple blinked a few times, his eyes flitted from Spear, to Pepper, and then to his poor burned pancakes. Abacus and Stalwart would be so upset with him. Of all the orders he had to mess up, theirs! And now they’d have to wait for him to make new ones!
His ears stood ramrod straight. “N-No!” he cried, leaping to his hooves. “I-I can make another batch for them! It’ll—oh, goodness—it’ll just take a second! J-Just pass me the flour! And the eggs! And—”
Peppermint placed a hoof against Maple’s lips. “Maple,” he said softly, “get yourself a drink and go take a break. Relax. It’s just one accident.”
Maple whimpered. “But … but my orders …”
“We’ll take care of them,” Spear cut in with a patient smile. “You help out around here plenty, we can cover for you.” He stole a quick glance out into the dining room and furrowed his brows. “Hmm, looks like it’s awful crowded out there. Why don’t you go share that table with the new colt? Isn’t he Sure Stroke’s cousin?”
Chitinous ears shot up again. Maple let out a squeak. “What?”
“You mean Doodle’s cousin,” Pepper corrected. “And yes.” He turned to Maple and waggled his ears. “Y’know, I bet he’d like to have someone to talk to. And he’s due for another pot of tea soon. In fact …”
Almost on cue, there was a shrill whistle. Peppermint turned around and levitated a teapot off his stove, then set it down on a tray. Then he floated the tray over and placed it upon Maple’s back, right across his wing casing.
“No, wait a minute—hang on!” Maple protested. “I don’t know him!”
“That’s why you go up and meet him, goofbug.” Peppermint smiled as he placed a clean cup down on the tray and gently guided Maple toward the door. “Look at him—he’s a handsome colt, eh? About your age too. So, take off that apron—”
“Got it covered!” Spear said, removing Maple’s apron and hat with a deft tug.
“Thanks, Spear—and go say hello. Who knows?” With one last waggle of his ears, Peppermint shoved him out the door and into the dining room. “You might just hit it off.”
Biting his lip, Maple glanced over his shoulder at the lone colt, then back at his grinning cousins. He aimed his very best pleading look in their direction, complete with drooping ears and a bit of charm to make his eyes look extra watery.
But they were well-versed in his tricks. As soon as they saw the shimmer, they simply turned and pretended to be talking to one another, close enough to the window that they could watch his progress out of the corner of their eyes.
Maple sniffled. “Jerks,” he grumbled, defeated by those dastardly twins again. With a sigh, he turned around to face his goal.
True to their word, Auntie Sweet Treat’s dining room was packed to the brim with villagers, each of them taking the time to enjoy their breakfast while they chatted with friends and family. Maple noticed a few guards in their forest green armor sitting near the door while they enjoyed their mugs of steaming coffee, no doubt they were about to head on to relieve the late night shift. Which meant Auntie Vigil should be coming home soon.
Each table was taking the time to enjoy a meal in relative peace. All of them except for the one nearest the door, the one where Altocumulus sat and tinkered with his little experiment. A stark contrast the the merry banter among friends and family, this solitary pegasus. And his actions, how he deftly added these chemicals and little bits of powder then stared and jotted notes, drew no shortage of quizzical looks. Yet none disturbed him.
Whether out of respect for how busy he looked or uncertainty, Maple couldn’t say.
His wings itched, but Maple managed to fight the urge to buzz. He approached the busy pegasus slowly, his hooves trembling with every step, even as he finally came to a stop within easy reach.
If he wanted, Maple could just reach out and stroke that fluffy purple mane. Right along the white stripe flashing through soft purple like a bolt of lightning.
Altocumulus didn’t notice him at first. His focus lay entirely in his work. His snout wrinkled as he did some quick mental math, a look so fetching on his face Maple swore he felt his heart do a backflip. “Liquid rainbow added to wisps of wild thunderhead,” the pegasus muttered under his breath, scribbling a few notes in his notebook. “Should see a reaction in the next minute or so. If not, I can add more by increment.”
Reaction? Adding more? Maple wasn’t quite sure what he was meant to be watching for, but it must be something interesting. Perhaps multicolored sparks? Or rain? Liquid rainbow rain would certainly be something.
Loathe though he was to interrupt, he could hardly just sit down without saying anything. Not to mention, his tea would be stone cold if he waited too long. Maple licked his lips. “Um, excuse me?” he called. “Altocumulus, right?”
Altocumulus stopped what he was doing. Slowly, he looked up, his brows furrowed and jaw set. “Please don’t call me that,” he replied. “I prefer Alto.”
Maple tried not to cringe. Off to a great start already. “Er, sorry. Alto it is. I’ll remember that.”
“Thank you.” Altocum—Alto gave a half smile, which vanished almost as fast as it came. He glanced at the tray on Maple’s back. “Is that mine?”
“Um. Half of it is. The other half is mine.” Shifting his weight from one hoof to the other, he floated the pot down so Alto could refill his cup.
“Is it?” Alto mused as he took it and poured himself a fresh cup. He tilted his head to one side as he raised the cup to his lips, then glanced around. “I didn’t know they had patrons wait on themselves here. Or that pots were shared between customer and staff here, but when in Pegusopolis, I suppose. Where’s your table? I’ll probably want some more shortly.”
Maple’s ears perked up. It wasn’t quite the way he might have drawn it up in a perfect world, nor would he tell his parents if this should turn out in his favor, but who was he to question fortune? And if they did question, the tale would be full of silver-tongued flirtation and a handsome pegasus blushing. He offered a smile. “Well … I was going to ask if you would mind if I sat at your table.” His eyes flitted to the empty seat. “Unless there was someone else sitting with you.”
“Well,” Alto said, “I haven’t yet come up with a formula to render a pony invisible, so no, there’s no one sitting there presently. You’re welcome to it.”
Beaming, Maple set the tray down, careful not to disturb the mixture, and began pouring himself a cup. Then his ears twitched as Alto’s words registered. “Wait … can you do that? Turn a pony invisible I mean?”
The pegasus shook his head. “I couldn’t, but that doesn’t mean someone else won’t figure it out. It’s not my specialty.”
“Oh? Then what is?”
“Weather science.” Alto gestured toward the mixture. “I managed to nick a few beakers of liquid rainbow from the Cloudsdale Rainbow Fountain before I left home, so I wanted to see how it might react when exposed to lightning from a real wild thunderhead, not the manufactured ones we play with.”
Maple sipped at his tea. Interesting. A scientist with unusual goals. How very different from the normal folk Respite attracted. How unique. Perhaps his family wouldn’t laugh after all. If anything, they might just try filling Alto’s ears with honeyed words to draw him into their web and wrap him around their hoof.
A not-so-small part of him found the prospect quite … agreeable. Though perhaps without the charm. Unless, of course, Alto was the sort who went for that.
His gaze fell to the mixture in the beaker. Maple tilted his head as he noticed a rainbow cloud beginning to form and throw of sparks. Angry sparks. The sort that made his carapace itch and his wings buzz nervously. “So … what happens when you do this with manufactured clouds?”
“Oh, nothing much.” Alto shrugged. “Usually they shoot off a big spark that makes your ears ring and shatters some glassware. Nothing too bad.”
One of the sparks hit the glass. Maple froze when he noticed the scorch mark. And the crack. “Uh … Alto?”
“It’s just a little more wild, nothing to worry about.” The pegasus reclined in his seat, sipping leisurely at his tea. “Really, it’ll maybe just throw off a few extra sparks. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and see a few rainbow ones, right?”
Another spark made the beaker jump. Static electricity tingled against Maple’s fangs. “Alto?”
“Oh, actually, if you really wanted to see something special with wild lightning, my dad had a picture of a storm off the Neighrie Isles a few years before I was born—oh, wait. I think I left that at—oh shoot!” Before Maple could even react, Alto flapped his wings once and kicked under the table, knocking Maple’s seat out from under him.
With a surprised chitter, Maple hit the floor a mere split second before there was a sharp crack, then a clap of thunder that made the very air around him vibrate. All conversation in the dining room ceased in an instant as ponies and changelings alike held their hooves over their ears and groaned, looking over in their direction for the source of the noise.
Maple’s heart hammered in his chest. Slowly, he rolled over, mindful of the shattered teacup and bits of glass beaker, and stood up. He looked across the table to check on the pegasus. “Alto? Are you—” the words died in his throat and his jaw dropped.
Alto stood stock still with a blank expression upon his face, which had been singed black. His mane was blown back as if he’d flown through a hurricane, sparks of electricity jumped from the ends. He casually licked his hoof, then put out a smoldering bang before wiping soot from his glasses. “Well,” he said matter-of-factly as he looked down at the charred woodwork and burned remnants of his notepad, “it would seem that my calculations were a tad—ack!” A cloud of smoke burst forth from his mouth with a cough. He aimed a glare at it, then shook his head. “Off. Are you all right?”
Maple couldn’t find the words to reply. His eyes were trained, transfixed upon Alto’s face. He merely nodded once, not breaking eye contact for a second. The gears in his head began to whirr at blinding speed. He allowed the pegasus to gently guide him back to his seat so he could clean up his mess and grumble about this variable and that, all of it going straight over Maple’s head faster than Aspire and Esalen could devour pancakes. It was all secondary to him. All meaningless against one single bit of information.
He’s even handsome when his coat is singed … oh, love, this colt!
Maple came trotting over to the kitchen table, where his family always dined in the back of the building, free from the customers’ prying eyes, with a bowl of warm water and a soaking washcloth balanced on his wing casing.
The handsome pegasus sat at the table, his face still singed and feathers bristling indignantly. He sniffed, glaring at the wisps of smoke wafting from his coat. Then he glanced over at Maple.
Those eyes burned like molten gold, full of the raging storm of Hurricane’s kin. Maple’s heart skipped a beat, he turned to show his burden to Alto before slowly setting them down before him.
“Here,” Maple said softly as he took the dampened cloth in hoof and wrung it out. Then he held it toward Alto. “Let me help you.”
Alto’s glare faltered. He looked down at the table and huffed a breath through his nose. “You don’t have to,” he muttered just barely above a whisper, enough that Maple could detect a hint of bitter shame. “I can clean myself.”
Maple pulled the cloth back so it was a just out of reach, shaking his head. “You protected me and made sure I didn’t get anything on me. It’s the least I can do.”
“I blew up an experiment in your Aunt’s shop. I doubt she’ll be happy about that.”
She wouldn’t, but Alto didn’t need to know that. Besides, it wasn’t like crazy things hadn’t gone on around here before. “Breezy’s done worse. Far worse. Please.” Maple decided to play a little dirty. He bent low so he could meet Alto’s gaze, then tilted his head to one side and stuck his bottom lip out ever so slightly. “Please let me help a friend.”
Periwinkle feathers twitched and fluffed. Alto ducked his head, muttering something under his breath as his cheeks took on a rosy hue.
Then he let out a sigh and nodded once, and sat up straight so Maple could more easily clean his face.
A happy chitter nearly rolled from the back of Maple’s throat, but he managed to swallow it down. He stepped closer and reared up, gently resting his free hoof on Alto’s shoulder. “Hold still,” he commanded softly. “You’ve got a lot all over your cu—your face.”
Either Alto missed his slip or simply paid it no mind. Thank love for small mercies, the young cook thought. He gently placed the washcloth against Alto’s cheek and slowly began wiping his handsome face.
Those golden eyes fluttered then slowly shut. The pegasus let out a deep sigh and leaned into the warm, soft caress, the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Maple didn’t bother hiding the merry grin that split his face. He set about his work with all the concentration and tender care with which he prepared his pancakes. Slowly, but surely, he washed away the remnants of burned coat and ash staining Alto’s periwinkle cheeks and muzzle, his eyes drawn to wander over that contented, peaceful face.
And such a lovely face it was! One that almost begged to be kissed with every inch of blackened coat he chased away.
What he would give for the right to do just that. The right to lick and kiss and nip it all over until those gorgeous wings unfurled and feathers fluffed as Alto arched his back against Maple, exposing his tender neck for several sweet kisses. Enough to draw a shuddering gasp and a whimper, then a blind puckering of his lips. And then, if Maple kept up his pursuit, a whine and whispered plea that he stop playing and grace those lips with the sensuous kiss they so richly deserved.
Not yet, he reminded himself. They had only just met. It might have been the way in Paradise, where his charms were welcome and encouraged to help ponies let go of their inhibitions and let their desires and feelings spill forth, but it wasn’t so in Respite.
Still the want was there. So much affection to lavish, so much sweet, delectable love.
“Uh, excuse me, changeling?” Alto’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I think my face is sufficiently cleaned, it doesn’t feel quite as crispy now.”
Maple let out a startled chitter, drawing back as if he’d burned his hoof on a hot stove. “S-Sorry! I was just lost in thought!”
Alto gave a wry smile. “It’s okay, changeling. It happens to me too. Quite often when I’m bored and would rather be doing my experiments.” Suddenly, his smile faltered. He furrowed his brows in thought, his golden eyes bored deep into Maple’s. “I’ve only just realized that I never asked for your name. And after I demanded you call me Alto, too. That’s quite rude of me.”
“What? No, I’m sure you—I mean, I’m pretty sure you asked, didn’t …” his voice trailed off. Maple tried to wrack his brain. Thinking back, Alto was absolutely right. He hadn’t asked.
Maple had failed to seize the opportunity to make such a sweeping introduction, to make a real impression like a proper Enchanter. Clenching his eyes shut, he cursed himself. His parents and siblings would laugh themselves silly if they ever heard! First an Enchanter enchanted by a pony he fancied, then he’d been undercut after failing to make an introduction!
But wait. He’d washed Alto’s face! Surely that counted as something suitably flirty and sensuous for an Enchanter, right?
“So,” Alto said almost hesitantly, “I’m, uh, Alto, like I said. It’s nice to meet you, even though it came with blowing myself, and nearly you, up. What’s your name?”
There it was. His chance to make a proper impression as an Enchanter, dashed upon the stones.
Ducking his head, he mumbled. “Maple. I’m Maple of the Enchanter hive. It’s been lovely to meet you, Alto.”
Maple expected the usual reaction from visitors—a thousand questions about his hive, why he and Auntie Vigil left Paradise for Respite, and so on. Or, always his favorites, if he used his charm on patrons.
Of course, the answer was no. Never. But he did feed when permitted, of course. And they were all delicious. Always.
Alto didn’t so much as blink, though. Instead, he tilted his head in consideration. “Maple,” he repeated as if testing it on his tongue. Or perhaps tasting it. After a moment, he smiled and waggled his ears.
Maple felt like he could just melt at the mere sight of such a dazzling smile.
“Maple,” Alto repeated again. “I like that name. It suits you.”
“O-Oh?” Maple found himself stammering. “How so?”
“You’re warm. And sweet. Just like maple syrup from Vanhoover.”
Like maple syrup from Vanhoover? Oh! Be still, my heart!
Forget Enchanter culture and pride. His parents could suck misery if they took issue with the way his entire face burned as the blood raced to fill his cheeks, or how he bit his bottom lip and buzzed his wings.
Flirting and honeyed words could get a dose of venom for all he cared. Maple was going to chase his love the way his Caretaker cousins did.
And he would see it end with either friendship or Alto held snug in his hooves, then dozing off in a warm cocoon in his slime bedpod.
“I-I’m …” Maple licked his lips. Oh, how he longed for a kiss! But he had to say it, his heart hammered in his chest and ached for him to speak his mind.
Beguile was the first. Let himself be the second. For such a handsome colt—no, not a colt. For such a handsome stallion, he would happily sing it from the mountains of Paradise to the Neighagara Forest surrounding Respite.
Maple grinned from ear to ear. “I’m enchanted to make your acquaintance, Alto.”
Alto made Sweet Treat’s shop his regular hangout in the days after their first meeting, much to Maple’s delight.
Though his experiments had been banned by order of Auntie Sweet Treat—Maple had to pull out his very best dose of big, teary eyes and endearing pouting face to help wheedle her down from tossing the pegasus out by his tail and barring him until she replaced the table he’d ruined—Alto didn’t seem to take too much of an issue. Well, he did grumble just a tad about it, but he always seemed to stop just short.
“Must have been the excess charge,” he mumbled for the umpteenth time as Maple set a plate of dandelions and sunflowers and warm butter before him. Alto sat slouched in his chair, his hooves crossed over his chest. “Now I have to find another place to try it since Aunt Skydancer won’t let me do my work in the house! Stupid thunderhead ruined a perfectly good hypothesis …”
Maple could never claim to understand much of science, but he was pretty sure one wasn’t supposed to blame the subject for the experiment going awry. Still, he let Alto grumble as he walked around the table, passing out dishes to patrons and refilling drinks, before he turned to smile at the moody pegasus. “I’m hurt you don’t want my pancakes again,” he said with a mild pout, both to tease and test Alto’s resolve. “Did I mess them up yesterday?”
Alto’s eyes flitted up to meet his. They didn’t so much as linger on his quivering bottom lip, nor did they show a hint of hesitation. “I enjoyed your pancakes greatly, however,” he said in the same clinical tone Maple might expect Sweet Treat to direct command he change oven temperature, “if I dine consistently on pancakes, I will put on weight. Putting on weight will mean that I will have to expend more energy to keep myself aloft when I fly, which would mean that gathering clouds for my experiments would be more difficult than necessary …”
The smile on the young Enchanter’s face grew as he listened. Maple bit down on the insides of his cheeks, desperately trying to hide any outward sign of mirth that might betray his little ruse.
It was a bit mean, yes, winding Alto up in such a way, but he could hardly be faulted. When Alto was focused, he just looked so darn handsome. The way his brows knitted together as he straightened up in his seat and rested one hoof on the table, while the other gesticulated wildly as he made his point forced an effort worthy of Queen Morrigan herself to resist the urge to dot his nose with a kiss.
“… And thus, if you factor in my need to be quick on my hooves in case an experiment goes wrong, as you have very well been a part of,” Alto continued, “adding weight, even if I do so enjoy your pancakes, is not to my benefit. So, regrettably, I must decline. Additionally, if we factor in that constantly eating the same thing over and over again will inevitably lead to the meal becoming less special …”
Maple’s façade fell at that point. He let out a snort, then a merry chitter, which he tried to hide behind his tray. His amber eyes danced with mirth.
Alto stopped in mid sentence. He blinked twice, then narrowed his eyes. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“Just a bit,” Maple admitted as a grin stretched across his cheeks. “You could have just said that you were watching your weight, or that you wanted to try something else today. Normally, everyone tries to sputter and tell me that they love my pancakes when I pull that face.”
“In my defense, I was attempting to be informative, and illustrate that I do, in fact, enjoy your pancakes.”
“Enough that you want to eat them every day?” the Enchanter wheedled, drawing close so he could rub shoulders with Alto.
This time, Alto did sputter before he managed to speak again. “I—I wouldn’t say—I do enjoy them, but again, as stated, eating them too often will no doubt …” he trailed off, his brows furrowed as he noticed the toothy grin Maple was struggling to hide behind the tray. He set his jaw. “You know, most ponies just tease me about my name, not my dining choices.”
Maple lowered his tray and let out a chittering laugh. “You’re in a changeling village, Alto,” he replied. “We’re a bit more creative than that with our teasing.”
“Aspire, Esalen, and all of my cousin’s friends tease her by calling her Doodle,” Alto countered.
“They tease her with a nickname, not her real name. And that’s not much of a bother for her these days from what I’ve seen. Now it’s more that she and Aspire are simply lovedrunk for one another.” At Alto’s blank stare, Maple coughed and corrected himself. “Head over hooves? Over the moon?”
Alto hummed an affirmation and nodded. “I see. It sounds like something we say in Cloudsdale.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Cloud nine reserved for two.” He paused a beat, then added, “Or more than two, I suppose, if such a thing happens.”
Maple could think of more than a few in Respite alone who would qualify for the latter, but he set it aside for now. “Well, we find more things to tease our pony friends about here,” he said casually, watching out of the corner of his eye to check Alto’s reaction. “Some of them even learn to tease back, but, of course, that just makes the game … sweeter.”
The pegasus hummed again. “I see. I’ve never been one for that sort of thing.”
Not even phased! Maple nearly dropped his tray and stepped away to see if Alto might give some sort of tell, a little twitch of his lips or crinkle at the edges of his eyes. Anything that might hint he knew from Sure Stroke how to play and was just turning things around.
Nothing. His face yielded nothing but clinical explanation and a casual air as if he’d been talking about the weather. Or, rather, his flight over. The weather might just make those eyes of molten gold light up.
Alto then took a bite of his breakfast. His ears twitched and wings fluffed. “These are quite good,” he said softly. “Fresh, I presume?”
“Always,” Maple replied with a note of pride in his voice.
“I see.” A small smile tugged at periwinkle lips as Alto took another bite. “It shows. I don’t think we ever had flowers so fresh in the Altocumulus Terrace. Thank you.”
A fuzzy feeling filled Maple’s chest. He bit his lip and looked away to hide his flushed carapace, mumbling, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoy it.”
Alto hummed in reply, his mouth still full, then set about making quick work of his meal. Maple scarcely had the chance to make a quick circuit to check on drink refills before the pegasus called him over once more.
Ears twitching, Maple turned to face him. “Yes? Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? You were busy.” The pegasus’s handsome face was creased in a bemused frown. “I was asking what time you would be finished working today.”
“Uh …” Really, there wasn’t a set time after the late morning rush. And even then, there were Peppermint and Spearmint if he wanted to take some time off.
Not like they didn’t owe him several times over for their own flights of whim—especially Spearmint, given how often he loved to go frolic with Shady Glen. Which, to be perfectly blunt, Maple couldn’t blame him for in the slightest.
Alto took his silence as prompting to go on, “I’m going to attempt my thunderhead experiment again. I wanted to invite you to participate. Or watch, rather. I’m not actually certain how you would participate unless the specimen is uncooperative.” His brows furrowed deeper. “Again.”
It took no small amount of self-control not to buzz. “You’re sure?” Maple asked, fighting to keep his excitement tempered. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“You’ll hardly be a distraction.” Periwinkle lips tugged into a small smile full of warmth. His fuzzy ears gave the slightest of wiggles. “You’re my friend.”
His self-control failed. With a happy buzz and a musical chitter rolling in the back of his throat, Maple bobbed his head so fast his hat nearly toppled off his fluffy copper mane. “I’d love to!”
Alto had chosen a little spot by the lake to run a second attempt at his thunderhead and liquid rainbow experiment. A rather smart choice, in Maple’s opinion, if this attempt went the same as the first.
It also meant that they weren’t taking risks with anyone’s house. Auntie Sweet’s ire was more than enough for Maple’s taste, he had no intent of being the focus of the Wood brothers’ or, love forbid, Creamy and Frosty. Not to mention the terrible twins themselves, even if they lived on the outskirts of the village.
Alto came trotting up to one of the old wooden tables lining the lakeside with a pair of saddlebags slung across his back. The pouches were filled to the brim, testing the integrity of the seams.
Tilting his head, Maple eyed his pegasus friend as he gently set his bags down on the table and began pulling out phials, a long, thin tubes, a jar of something that looked like liquid prism rolling and swirling within itself—liquid rainbow, no doubt—and a small beaker containing what looked to be a near-black ball of angrily sparking fluff.
His gaze lingered on the little piece of thunderhead. Perhaps his own eyes were fooling him, but this particular cloud looked far more active than the previous one.
A spark danced across the face of the beaker. “Uh, are you sure using this one is a good idea, Alto?” Maple asked, taking a leery step back from the table.
“What do you mean?” Golden eyes flitted to Maple, then tracked his gaze to the sparking thunderhead just in time for a tiny rumble of thunder to shake the beaker. He gave a nonchalant shrug of his wings. “It’ll be fine, Maple. It’s supposed to be live like this. How would I conduct the experiment if it were dormant or spent?”
‘Safely’ came to mind, but Maple kept it to himself. Instead, he edged around the side of the table so he could stand closer to Alto. For observational purposes. Aloud, he said, “If you say so, I suppose. I don’t know nearly as much about weather magic as a pegasus.”
One periwinkle ear flicked. “The average pegasus doesn’t know a whole lot about weather magic either, so don’t worry about that. To most of us, it’s just a thing we can do that others can’t.” Pausing in thought, the turned to glance at Maple. “Similar to a changeling’s shapeshifting in that way, though not nearly so …” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Well, perhaps if there were a changeling study seminar, I wouldn’t have been so bored during my electives.”
Again, Maple felt his cheeks flush. Another image of his parents bemoaning their little hatchling allowing himself to be so lovedrunk on a pony that he’d been enchanted himself flashed before his eyes.
Alto continued on, “Is there such a thing here, by the way?”
“Huh?” Maple blinked. “Is there a what?”
“Is there some sort of seminar or lessons on changelings so I might learn about those I’ll be living around for the foreseeable future? Or am I on the proverbial learning curve?” He turned to measure out a few droplets of liquid rainbow, then lifted the stopper off of the thunderhead’s beaker and poured the sample straight into the cloud. Dull black fluff flashed a myriad of colors before it turned a shade that rivaled Maple’s carapace. A second rumble of thunder made Maple’s joints itch. “Sure Stroke mentioned a bit of a struggle to learn herself, but, if I could be forgiven for saying so, my dear cousin was never really one for study unless the subject was of particular interest to her.”
“She was a poor student?”
Alto shook his head. “Not necessarily. She is an exceptional student if the subject interests her, anything else is a bit of a struggle, but she can pick it up in the end.”
Nodding absentmindedly, Maple glanced at the little thunderhead trapped in the beaker. Sparks of red, green, yellow, blue, and even purple jumped from within the blackened fluff, jolting and singeing the glass every several seconds. There was a little flash of white lightning and a rumble of thunder with each, and every bolt and grumble made the beaker jounce and skid a millimeter across the table. But with it came something far different from the first time.
Droplets of strange, viscous goop dribbled from the cloud like tree sap. For a moment, Maple thought it to be a dull gray, then he took a closer look and noticed a hint of light glowing from within—the same wash of colors that swirled and rolled about within the phial.
The goop began to collect and congeal in the center of the beaker, then slowly billowed and filled out like dough in a hot oven. Or a bubble.
He took a big step back. “Alto,” he said nervously, “is it supposed to do that?”
Confused, Alto turned to look at his experiment. His ears stood ramrod straight and wings flared out wide with a rustling noise. “Oh! I’ve seen this before!” With an excited grin, he dove into his saddlebags and fetched his notebook and pencil so he could furiously scribble down a few notes.
“You have?” Of course he had. Maple fixed the angry little cloud with a flat look and tilted his head to one side.
“Yes! Twice before!” Scribble, scribble, scribble danced the pencil across the page. “I did this same experiment a year ago in lab! We were testing to see how pure liquid rainbow would react to a jolt of electricity—of course, we were using diluted rainbow at the time, because the real stuff could be volatile if not used right.”
“Okay … so, it’s supposed to make that gooey … stuff?”
“It wasn’t gooey last time, but it did drizzle a bit.” Alto stopped writing in favor of looking at the contents of his beaker. “It sort of made a little bubble then popped, coloring the glass for a while. We couldn’t get it off unless we used rubbing alcohol.”
That was enough to send alarm bells ringing in Maple’s head. There was something about the way Alto described his past experiment and the current one that weren’t quite adding up. After a few seconds, it clicked.
Right about the time he noticed another flash of colors from within the bubbling blob of goop. This one brighter than before.
“Alto?”
“Yeah?”
Maple took another step back. “Please tell me that was diluted rainbow.”
With a snort, Alto turned to fix him with a stern look. “What’re you so afraid of? It’s just a little color changing mess! Have a sense of adventure! I told you I nicked a few beakers from the Rainbow Fountain, they don’t dilute that stuff!”
“That’s not an answer to my question! Did you dilute this batch?”
“What’s the big deal?” He rolled his eyes and turned back to observe the beaker. “So I’m using the pure stuff like last time, don’t worry about it. I went over my calculations and used the proper measurement to factor in the explosion from last time. This time you’ll see the experiment is completely …” he trailed off as one of the bubbles popped.
Maple wasn’t entirely sure what Alto saw, but he did get to watch those soft, periwinkle ears pin back against his head.
“Oh, pluck my feathers, not this again,” Alto whined.
A clap of thunder made Maple duck and cover his ears. The sound of glass popping and a strange squelch akin to batter splattering against the immaculately clean walls of Auntie Sweet’s kitchen—or, in this case, against a certain handsome pegasus’s face.
Slowly, Maple uncovered his face so he could look up and check on Alto.
A delightful cocktail of emotions bubbled within his chest—a blend of curiosity and worry mixed with the slightest hint of self-satisfaction at how right he’d been, seasoned with a dash of amusement that would almost certainly taste like warm cinnamon bread if he could but steal a hint from one of the villages.
Then he promptly toppled over onto his back, kicking his hooves in the air as he dissolved into peals of chittering mirth. “Y-You! Pfffft—hahahaha! You look like you jumped in a rainbow bath!” he cried between bouts of laughter.
Alto snorted a cloud of smoke, following its trail with a glare before turning his ire upon Maple. “It’s not funny!” he retorted despite the hint of a twitch at the corners of his mouth. He ran a hoof down his snout, trailing a blend of reds, blues, and yellows to the tip of his nose, then froze and let out a groan. “This stuff spreads everywhere! It’s gonna take forever to get this out!”
Maple doubled over, clutching his belly. “St-Stop!” he cried, his wings buzzing. “Oh, stop! My sides! Oh, my carapace is going to crack!”
A sharp intake of breath and angry snort made his ears perk up, a chitter died in the back of his throat. Maple blinked his eyes free of mirthful tears and looked up to find Alto rising from his seat, wings flared wide in challenge, flinging tendrils of sticky goop across the table, and one hoof held before him as if balancing a plate.
A dollop of rainbow goop trailed prismatic liquid down his wrist.
“Alto …” Maple scooted back, his smile turned nervous. “Alto, I was only teasing.”
“I’ve heard tell that the villagers here believe in turnabout as fair play,” Alto said slowly as he stalked toward the cowering Enchanter. “So, please, understand that I’m not angry, Maple. This is exactly that. Turnabout.”
Yelping, Maple leapt to his hooves and made to dash off as fast as his hooves could carry him.
Alto pounced upon him before he could even rise to his hooves, dragging him down the the ground with a deft twist of his shoulders and sitting on his waist to block any attempt to roll or buck.
“No! Alto, wait! I’m sorry!” Maple flailed his forelegs in vain. “I’ll make you cake! Muffins! Anything you want! Don’t you put that on my carapace!”
The pegasus batted his hooves away with a wicked grin. His hoof shot forward and pressed against Maple’s nose. Slowly, torturously, he began to spread it over Maple’s smooth cheeks, his snout, his chin, even up to his forehead.
Oh! If his parents could see him now! Pinned and tormented by his own crush! And his beautiful carapace, his handsome, chubby face, coated in sticky rainbow goop.
Maple covered his face, a keening whine escaped the back of his throat. “Nooooooooooooo!”
Gentle hooves gripped his wrists and pried forelegs away from his face, to reveal the grinning pegasus. Alto leaned down so they were nose to nose and waggled his ears. “You should see your face,” Alto sang his own taunt back at him. “You look like you jumped in a rainbow bath.”
Whining again, Maple tried to turn away. “Why couldn’t you just take the deal? Now I look horrible! Rainbow doesn’t go with black carapace!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Alto rolled his eyes, then bumped their noses together. “You look just fine. Colorful, for a change, but handsome. Like always.”
Maple froze stiff. He swiveled an ear toward Alto. “R-Really?”
“Yes. You ridiculous changeling.” With a heavy sigh, Alto stood up and gestured toward the mess on the table. “I don’t suppose you’d mind helping me clean this up?”
The words had scarcely left his lips before Maple was on his hooves and at Alto’s side, a dopey smile spread across rainbow-stained cheeks. At that moment, Alto could have commanded him to guzzle misery and chew on lemons, and no objections would have been raised. Why should any be?
A wicker basket was balanced atop the white cloth resting upon his wing casing, carried with expert ease gained through years of practice from waiting tables. A confident smile spread across his chubby, chitinous cheeks as he strode down the path leading toward Drizzly Day and Skydancer’s house.
Or, more importantly, the very home a certain handsome pegasus was staying for the duration of his visit. Hopefully, it would be a lengthy stay.
Better yet, a permanent one. Perhaps if he found himself so thoroughly enamored with the prospect of studying the wild, untapped weather patterns of the Neighagara Forest or enjoyed a taste of the quiet village life kept him from all the hustling and bustling of Cloudsdale, not to mention all the distractions that came with it, as Hawkeye would tell upon returning from his travels.
Or, Maple dared to think as he bit down on his lip to withhold a merry chitter, if he finds the right changeling to love him as he deserves and shares his own in kind.
With a swish of his orange tail, he ascended the wooden stairs leading up to the porch, arriving with a bit of a skip and a hop before he stopped in front of the door and rapped his hoof against it thrice. His ears twitched as he heard a filly’s voice call out, “Be right there!”
Maple’s smile broadened. He knew that voice quite well. So too did he know the way her hooves thumped against the floor like she was trying not to gallop, but only just keeping herself to a brisk trot as she hurried to greet him. Sure enough, he heard a rustle of wings, then a quick thud of a hoof hitting the bannister before the other fumbled with the latch.
The metal latch jiggled about for a moment before opening with a click. The door pulled open to reveal a pegasus filly who stood half a head shorter than he and just a tad pudgier than average, her coat was a soft, pretty violet as pure as the flowers which shared the color, her mane a deep purple that matched the edges of the sky at sunset. As always, she wore it tied in a high ponytail that trailed down her shoulders.
“Hello, Maple,” Sure Stroke greeted with a smile and fluff of her feathers. “What’re you doing here today?” Her eyes flitted past his shoulders, drawing her to lean to her right and raise a brow. “And what’s with the picnic basket?”
Maple bit his lip, thinking on his answer for a moment. “Uh …” He glanced away from her deep purple eyes, his smile faltering a fraction as blood filled his cheeks. Running into Drizzly or Skydancer would have been far easier. They weren’t nearly as likely to tease.
Sure Stroke, on the other hoof …
Well, she had adapted to the village quite nicely. In no small part thanks to the terrible twins, Aspire and Esalen. Already he could see the wheels turning and turning in her head, and the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile that sent a shiver down his spine.
A pony making a changeling’s carapace itch. Oh, his parents would never let him live this down if they learned of it.
“Were you looking for someone?” she sang teasingly.
“Er, y-yes.” Maple shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. His eyes fell to the wooden floor beneath him. “I was, ah, wondering if your … uh …” he trailed off into an unintelligible mix of mumbling and nervous chittering, his ears pinning back against his mane.
Sure Stroke giggled. “You know,” she said as though talking about the weather, “I’ve never seen him so happy or excited to spend time with another pony outside our family. You must’ve really left an impression the first day he blew up Sweet Treat’s shop.”
Black chitinous ears stood up ramrod straight. Maple’s heart leapt and hammered in his chest. “R-really?” he asked.
“Yup. Not to mention the second round with his rainbow goop experiment.” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Mom’s taken away all his beakers of liquid rainbow for a week because he made a mess of himself and tracked it across the floor. Then she heard he got it all over your carapace and added another. He’s been whining about it ever since.”
Wincing, Maple shifted in place. “Should I give him some space then?”
“Oh, no. He’s so bored he’s ready to pluck his own feathers out. Seeing you will just about make his week.” The younger filly turned away and trotted toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Oh, Altocumulous!” she sang. “Your favorite baker changeling is here! And he’s clean of that rainbow mess you splattered on him!”
The sound of hooves scuffing and thumping against hardwood and feathers rustling tickled Maple’s ears. He watched as Sure Stroke jumped nimbly out of the way, grinning like her boyfriend in the midst of one of his tricks, as Alto hurried into the living room.
Periwinkle wings unfurled in challenge, his feathers bristled angrily, and those molten gold eyes shone with indignant fire. “Stop,” he said slowly, “saying my full name, Doodle.”
She waggled her ears. “Never,” she shot back, playfully booping his nose before turning to return to her room. “Play nice with Maple, Altocumulous. No more blowing up the best pancake maker in the village, or I might have to tell Queen Euphoria.”
She scooted down the hallway before either stallion could give reply. The pair sputtered, their cheeks flushed as blood arose to tinge carapace as black as midnight and dust Alto’s coat with a rosy pink hue.
For a moment, Alto glared down the hall, his feathers still bristling, but slowly relaxing as he took a deep breath. With a sigh, he turned to Maple. “My apologies,” he began cooly. “Sure Stroke has always been a bit precocious, but dating Aspire has given her quite the penchant for mischief and teasing.”
“It’s natural here,” Maple replied. “Most ponies end up joining in our games eventually. If you stay, you’ll probably do the same at some point.”
Alto snorted, his lips twitched into a small smile. “Perhaps,” he said, looking over to Maple for the first time. Those gorgeous gold eyes of his nearly made Maple’s knees knock. He blinked once, then tilted his head. “What’s in the picnic basket? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
Maple glanced over his shoulder at the picnic basket and cloth. His long, serpentine tongue felt as though it were tied in a knot.
The words were right there in his head. All he had to do was open his mouth and tell Alto his plan.
Please work. Don’t fail me now.
He took a deep breath and, after a moment to shuffle his hooves again, said, “I heard from a few stallions on the weather team that there was going to be a storm out on the west side of the lake. There’s a little spot where we can watch it if you like. There’s a small cave in the side of the falls, so we won’t have to worry about getting wet or hit by lightning.” Thinking on it a moment, he forced himself to mumble, “I made us some food, in case you wanted snacks.”
Alto’s periwinkle ears shot up straight, his eyes went wide as dinner plates, and a grin—an actual grin!—spread slowly across his handsome face.
It was the first time Alto had ever looked at Maple with such raw, naked joy on his face.
Maple made sure to take in every detail before those kissable lips formed the words he’d been so longing to hear.
“I’d love to.”
The flight across Lake Neighagara had been quite lovely, in Maple’s opinion.
At first, Alto had forgotten just what he was and offered to help him fly over. A rather sweet gesture that warmed his heart, enough that he nearly had given into that selfish little voice in his head that whispered sweet images of himself held snug in the handsome pegasus’s hooves and pretended he couldn’t change into a pegasus himself.
But he managed to behave. Instead, he assumed his favored disguise—a slender pegasus stallion of average build, coat as white as snow and mane light blue with a flash of white, like lightning cutting through the sky.
Alto had fixed him with an appraising look before nodding approvingly. “Quite a disguise,” he mused as they flew.
“Do you like it?” Maple asked.
“It looks very genuine and it suits you nicely. I’d imagine you would look something like that if you’d been born a pegasus, actually.” Pausing a moment, he gave Maple a once over then smiled. “Though, I would rather it a bit closer to your natural build.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You look fine the way you are in natural form. Better than fine, actually. Handsome. I rather prefer it, to be perfectly honest.”
Though his words were rife with a cool, clinical honesty, they did bring a heat to Maple’s cheeks that would have almost certainly flushed his carapace a deep black all the way to the tips of his ears. If only he had been in natural form.
In his disguise, he could regulate what he showed. To a degree.
A quick glance at the surface of the water showed a light dusting of pink in his cheeks. Maple cursed his choice of coat color, but only for a second before he recalled Alto’s words.
The disguise suited him. And Alto could almost imagine him born as a pegasus. Looking just like this.
And yet, he thought as he slowly turned east and guided Alto toward the falls, and away from black storm clouds and rumbling of thunder over the opposite side of the forest, he prefers me as I was born. A changeling.
They touched down on the soft grass in a brisk canter, never stopping as they hurried over to their destination.
“I wonder if there will be a lot of lightning,” Alto mused aloud. He glanced over his shoulder and beamed at the distant storm. Another rumble of thunder coaxed a gleeful laugh. “Oh! With thunder like that, I’d wager there’ll be plenty! Look, you can already see a strong anvil! Now, if only there could be a wild tornado! Then it would be a real show!”
On that, Maple would quite heartily disagree. Regardless of whether he knew what an ‘anvil’ was in weather. But he bit his tongue and took a moment to enjoy the grin on Alto’s face as he was engulfed in green fire and shapeshifted back into his natural form. All those cool, tiny smiles were nice enough, and they could make his heart flutter like a baby pegasus’s wings, but that grin.
Oh, that grin.
He would happily bake Alto all the sweets in the world for the rest of his life if he could just have that handsome pegasus sitting in his kitchen with that lovely grin upon his muzzle. A second lifetime if he won the right to kiss it.
The cave wasn’t particularly deep. If Maple had to guess, it only extended about thirty or forty pony lengths into the side of the rock, the echo of the raging falls sounded throughout at all hours of the day. The inside was dry and cool, not so much that it was uncomfortable on any normal day, but with such a storm hanging over the forest and traveling toward the falls, the temperature had fallen just enough to make Maple long for a blanket.
Alto, on the other hoof, looked like he barely noticed. If anything, he smiled and took a deep breath. “This is like home in the spring,” he said softly. “Nice and mild at midday. A nice little break from the nights and mornings.”
“Home was that cold?” Maple asked, aghast at such a notion. Though the prospect of huddling together with Alto for warmth did wonders to bring him around to a better place.
“Altocumulous Terrace,” Alto replied with a nod. “We lived farthest from the ground and were in winter gear year ‘round. When I traveled here, I thought my lungs were going to burst because of all the humidity. But I’ve been able to manage well enough.”
More than well enough, in Maple’s opinion. He set the basket down on the cold stone ground and unfolded the blanket, then began retrieving his fares from within. Sandwiches, cupcakes, sweet breads, and more were soon spread out, along with a thermos of sweet cider and one of chilled tea.
Alto sat down beside him, close enough that warm pony coat teased against his carapace. “Oh, wow,” he said softly, eying Maple for a moment. “Did you make all of this?”
“Some of it,” Maple squeaked. “I made the sweetbreads and cupcakes. And the sandwiches. The rest was from our display case.”
“It all looks delicious.” Those golden eyes locked with his, sending a shudder through his body. Then Alto reached for a sweetbread and took a big bite. His ears twitched, that delighted grin returned to his face. “And tastes better. Thank you, Maple. This will go wonderfully with our storm viewing.”
The young Enchanter could have danced a jig. But he beat back the urge and managed to restrain himself to a small smile of his own as he picked a cupcake with periwinkle icing, nibbling at the edge. It tasted wonderfully, of course. But there was little doubt in Maple’s mind that the tiniest of sips of Alto’s love would make all sweets, even pancakes and maple syrup, pale in comparison.
A flash of light made Alto sit up stock straight. “Oh!” he cried with foal like glee, gesturing with his free hoof. “It’s starting! Look, Maple! Look!”
Maple followed his hoof as thunder shook the forest. Blue bolts arced through the sky as lightning carved through the air like a terrible, jagged sword. There was a lull in the wind, like the storm had taken a deep breath after this first strike. Then the rain fell down upon the forest like water spurting forth from a broken faucet, obscuring the scenery until it looked as though he were staring through a gray blue film. Tree branches creaked and groaned in the wind, leaves rustled and danced as they were blown away, never to stand proudly with their brethren again.
But all the while, he watched Alto out of the corner of his eye, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his crush giggle and flutter his feathers like a nymph receiving his first drink of love from a friend.
“It’s a wild storm!” Alto all but squealed. “It’s a real, live wild storm! Untouched by pony hooves—aside from steering, of course—but manufactured entirely by the power of nature itself!” He threw back his head and let out a wild laugh that echoed throughout the cave. “Oh, this is the best thing ever!”
As he spoke, a bolt hurled down and struck a blow to the surface of the lake, spurring another bout of laughter.
Maple stayed quiet, listening to Alto’s excited chattering about each sight they witnessed. The frequency of lightning, the roar of wind, the sound of thunder and all the little details that brought it all together to create such a powerful force of nature.
Slowly but surely, they finished off their picnic as the storm began to die down. They settled in to rest quietly, enjoying the steady sound of raindrops dripping from the face of the rock and basking in the glow of sunlight filtering through the parting clouds.
Alto heaved a happy sigh. “That was beautiful,” he said softly.
“I thought you might enjoy it,” Maple replied, hunching his shoulders and shifting in place.
“Enjoy it? I loved it!” The pegasus’s eyes sparkled. He turned to face Maple fully, his chest billowing and feathers fluffing. “I just—I’d never seen anything like this! I’ve never been so happy around anypony—anyone but my family!”
His words made Maple’s heart skip a beat. It was just like Sure Stroke said!
The Enchanter ducked his head into his chest. “I … it may sound a bit silly of me to say,” he muttered, “but I feel the same. I think. I hope.”
For a moment, there was complete silence. The world around them, nature itself froze in time, as if the heavens themselves chose to stop and see what came of this moment.
Alto blinked once. Twice. The edge of his tongue lashed out to wet his lips. “I feel like … I could just …” He swallowed. “Before I met you, there was Sure Stroke. She was the only one who really got me. Ever.”
Maple dared to reach out, brushing his hoof against Alto’s shin. “I left my home with my Auntie Vigil when she started seeing Auntie Sweets.” He took a deep breath, sent a quick prayer to Morrigan and the Sainted Once, then added, “My family never understood why I was more interested in cooking than I was charming and loving ponies. When I saw my chance to leave and be happy, I came here. Pepper and Spear sort of helped me a lot. But other than them …”
He felt Alto’s hoof grip his tight. “I’ve never done this before,” Alto continued. “I don’t know how. Or even if you’ll feel the same after knowing me long enough.”
“Don’t say that. You’re wonderful. And sweet.” Gently, Maple tugged Alto’s hoof up and brought it to rest against his chest. “I’ve never done this either. And I don’t know if you could feel this way for me with what I am.”
“You’re a changeling, I’m well aware.”
“Are you? I won’t lie, Alto, I want your love in every way that means for my race. I want to hold you, kiss you, lavish you with every bit of affection I can give, and, by Morrigan’s crown, I would love to feed on you if allowed. And—” he paused to lick his lips and along the edge of his snout, noting the way Alto’s eyes followed his tongue. Oh, does he like that?
“And?” Alto prompted.
There was no backing out now. Maple drew in close, pressing his nose against Alto’s. “There’s a part of me,” he whispered, “deep down, that really wants to have you charmed. Like any Enchanter would. Not always, but … by love, I want to do it for the first time since I was a nymph, and I want to hear everything on your mind about everything. The weather, me, Respite, all of it.” He took a shuddering breath, then added, barely above a whisper, “I would never without your approval. But I just … I just want you to be mine so much.”
Alto gave a crooked smile in reply. “I don’t quite know what an Enchanter is, but I know you. And that charming business is … I’m not sure if I ever could allow it, but being yours …” He closed his eyes and turned his head, stopping just short.
He was waiting. Prompting.
The first move belonged to Maple.
He made it with an excited, nervous chitter, leaning forward to press his lips against Alto’s. His eyes fluttered shut. Oh, how he’d waited for this moment!
Those lips were far more kissable, far softer than he ever imagined.
His tongue traced along them, drawing a gasp and sudden unfurling of periwinkle wings. Grinning, Maple drew back to nuzzle Alto’s nose, chittering gaily as he felt the pegasus’s warm breath wash over his face.
Slowly, he trailed a hoof up to Alto’s chest and gently pushed him back, guiding him to lay down on the cover. His magic deftly slid empty plates and cups out of the way. “If you really want this, I should warn you what you’re in for,” he whispered huskily.
Alto, to his credit, didn’t shy away. He laid down, wrapping his forehooves around Maple’s neck and trailing his primaries against polished carapace. “What’s that?” he asked. “Warnings about feeding? Sure Stroke mentioned something about it before.”
“No.” Maple licked his nose. “Loving an Enchanter.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh, yes,” Maple replied as he lowered himself to rest atop his pegasus. “You, my handsome stallion, have caught the eye of an Enchanter. Which means you are about to learn the most wonderful thing about my hive.”
This time, Alto did react. A bright red blush spread across his face, reaching to the very tips of his ears. A tremor ran through his body.
Maple licked his lips slowly, savoring the way those golden eyes tracked his tongue. “No one,” he purred, drawing in for another kiss, “loves like a changeling. And no changeling loves like an Enchanter.”
Their second kiss was just as sweet than the first.
And every one after brought forth memories of that lovely, stormy afternoon which bled into evening all too soon for Respite’s newest pair of lovers.
