> A Hearth's Warming Tale
>  by kudzuhaiku
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> Foreword
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Most stories begin with somepony leaving home, or perhaps a stranger comes to town. In some stories, the pony that leaves home is the stranger that comes to town. But not this story, no. This story begins with a tombstone. But this does not make it a depressing story, or a bleak story, though perhaps, it might be a somewhat sad story. The story, such as it is, happens to be about a filly coming to terms with grief. Oh, not her own grief, but the grief of another, for it makes her heart ache so to witness it. 

This filly was quite remarkable. The daughter of Blonde Roux and Pigeon Pie, little Lime Tart was a bright, cheerful, intelligent, resourceful filly, capable of doing a great many things. Quite a number of things, actually. She found that she was quite good at anything she set her mind to, with the exception of just one thing, and this just one thing rather defined the whole of her existence. No matter what she did, she could not make her best friend’s grief go away. Not with songs, not with smiles, not with laughter, not even with magic—and she had tried. Little Stargazer continued to have his moments of profound sadness, the sort that comes with grief. 

Unable to do much of anything to help, all she could do was wait with him, with the hope that the moment would pass… 
> A date in a cemetery
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With a grunt of effort, and with her tongue dangling from the corner of her mouth—a silly display of youthful concentration—Lime Tart shoved all of the snow off of the buried tombstone. It wasn’t a standing tombstone like some; no, those were far too costly. This was a simple headstone that lay flat upon the ground, and as such, could be covered by snow. Which was a problem. More than a problem, even. It was a source of much distress for Stargazer, who came out to the cemetery every single day to unbury the headstone. 

This was one of the many things that made Stargazer sad. His father was already buried, and the tombstone was all that the sad colt had left. To hear him speak of it, every time the headstone was buried with snow, it was as if he had lost his father all over again. While Lime Tart didn’t understand it—she couldn’t even pretend—what she could do was be a good friend, and that meant making the long walk to the cemetery with Stargazer every single day. 

These walks were now the most important things in her life. They gave her time to think, to clear her head, and to sort out the sort of pony that she was becoming. A profound change had come over her since she’d ditched her old friends. She was happier now, with both herself and life in general. No longer did she live with shame, nor did she feel that constant pang of guilt. Somehow, with all that had happened, she’d become incredibly good friends with her mother, who’d always been her friend, but Lime Tart had failed to appreciate that until just recently. 

“It’ll be Hearth’s Warming soon,” Stargazer said to her while she slurped in her exposed tongue. She turned toward his direction, to see his face, to look into his sorrowful eyes. 

“Yeah,” she replied. 

“I don’t want it to come,” he said rather sulkily. “My mom is miserable. She cries almost every day now. It’s our first Hearth’s Warming without him, and I don’t want it to come.” 

It was one of those days. These were not good days when friendship was easy, no. This was one of those days when friendship was hard. Not hard in a bad way, like with her old friends, when she had to pretend to be dumb, petty, and vicious—all of which took quite a toll. No, this was hard in a different way, and truth be told, she looked forward to these days the most. These were the days when she truly felt good, that she was the very best pony that she could possibly be. 

A snowflake fell, and then another. These two were just the vanguard, and as Stargazer began to sniffle, the poofy clouds overhead let go. The fluffy white flakes were especially brilliant against Stargazer’s Princess-Luna-blue pelt, and rather looked like stars. His pale sky-blue mane was a little long now—he needed a trim—and his forelock almost hung over his eyes. Snowflakes clung to the bristly hairs found within his ears and Lime Tart felt her heart go pitter-pat while she studied his cute face. 

After some internal debate, she decided to let him be sad—for now. This was a cemetery, a place for ponies to be sad. A place for grief. Her mother said that Grief was the second filly in their relationship, and while little Lime Tart wasn’t quite sure what her mother meant by that, she supposed that she had to share Stargazer with Grief. Getting upset about it certainly wouldn’t solve anything, and would probably hurt Stargazer. 

Sometimes, adults said things that made no sense. 

“I hate how happy everypony is.” 

Uh-oh, somepony was both sad and grumpy. Lime Tart knew that he really didn’t mean that—at least she hoped so. Stargazer was a pony that worried a great deal about the happiness of his baby sister and his mother. Why, he fretted over it constantly. He was looking down at his father’s tombstone with a mournful expression that Lime Tart almost could not bear. Should she glomp him? Probably not. That only worked sometimes, and when it did work, it only distracted him because he would complain about the invasion of his equinal space. 

“I hardly even knew my father.” Ears trembling, the colt closed his eyes and then poured his heart out. “I mean, I knew him, but I’m not old enough to know him. He was my friend, and I know he loved me. But he worked, and I had school, and we only saw each other for a few hours a day, and that’s all the time I had with him, and it’s not enough. It wasn’t enough. My mother keeps talking about him, and how he was, and the things he liked… and while I like to listen to her tell me stories, I also hate hearing it all. She got a chance to know him, and I didn’t, and when she talks about him, it hurts. It all hurts so much and I am so tired of always hurting.” 

Unable to bear what she heard, Lime Tart chomped on her upper lip, which stretched the skin on her snoot. She wasn’t going to cry today; this morning, she made a promise to her reflection in the mirror. No boohooing. Today, she was going to be the strong one. No snotting, no sniffling, no getting weepy-eyed. The last thing she wanted was snotcicles hanging from her nose, because those were gross. Plus, when she yanked them away, they usually took a few hairs along with them, and that made her eyes water. Which was bad; watery eyes were awful, because the frigid cold made them sting. 

“Oh look, the crybaby losers!” 

At the sound of Treacle Tiramisu’s voice, Lime Tart closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Of all the things that could have happened right now, this was probably the worst. Why would they come here, to the cemetery? It was a long walk. She knew why. Her old friends had come to torment both her and Stargazer. There were no adults here, no grown-ups around to enforce the rules. Disappointed with herself, Lime Tart should have seen this coming, and she hadn’t. 

“Check it out, Upside-Down Cake… crybabies crying.” 

Yep, Treacle was just as stupid as she ever was. This was bad—no, this was beyond bad. There were no words for how bad this was, how awful it was. How could a pony do this to another pony? To disturb them in a cemetery of all places. This was supposed to be a place of quiet. For perhaps the first time, Lime Tart understood just how terrible her former friends were, and it pained her. No, worse than that, she was ashamed. She might have joined them. Oh, she didn’t want to believe that, but it was possible. Over time, it became easier and easier to do truly icky things, so she might very well have done this—or worse. 

Though she could not imagine anything worse than this. 

“I should be a good pony, and wash the crybaby’s face—” 

“Go away, Treacle.” As Lime Tart turned to face her former friends, her ears splayed out away from her stubby horn that peeked out from her messy mane. She pawed at the snow with her hoof and swallowed several times because her mouth had gone dry. 

The immense earth pony filly made her slow advance, with Upside-Down Cake just behind her. Lime Tart (who had no concern over society’s imposed gender roles) placed herself between her former friends and Stargazer. Every breath was hot on her tongue and she felt strange arcane energies flowing through her horn. Stargazer was silent; he was always silent and he just wasn’t the sort to fight back, which she used to tease him about but now she admired. 

“It’s the season of giving,” Treacle said as she trudged through the snow. “And I came all this way to give the crybaby a good white-washing in the snow.” 

“Go away, Treacle. Or else.” 

“Or else what, Tart?” Treacle spat out the word ‘tart’ in a particularly unpleasant way. 

“Leave us alone,” Lime Tart said to her former friends. 

Quite suddenly, Upside-Down Cake halted in the snow, and stood about a yard behind Treacle. She flapped her wings, shook her head, and then turned to look at a tombstone poking up out of the snow. Almost whining, the pegasus filly said, “This don’t feel right—”

“Shut up, Dump Cake, you coward.” 

Ears down to show submission, Upside-Down Cake went silent and began to back away. 

It was something that Lime Tart was far too familiar with. She’d suffer a pang of conscience and then Treacle would either say rude things or be scary. Or both. Sometimes both. No doubt, Treacle was about to be a bully, and bad things were going to happen. Only things were not going to turn out as Treacle expected, because Lime Tart wasn’t going to let this happen. Not in a cemetery. Stargazer was supposed to be safe here. This was supposed to be a tranquil place, not a schoolyard. Though, it shouldn’t happen in the schoolyard, either, and the adults didn’t do much about it, because foals will be foals. 

“We should go,” Stargazer said from behind her. 

“Do you really think I’ll let you leave without your Hearth’s Warming gift?” 

Treacle had an infuriatingly stupid look on her infuriatingly stupid face. She never was a bright one, but right now she appeared particularly dumb. Something about her smug expression that suggested that, even with as stupid as she was, she knew that she would get away with this, at least for now. Treacle was too thick-headed to think about any sort of consequences, and she had trouble thinking five minutes into the future. For her, there was only the now, and the future might as well not exist. Lime Tart had learned the hard way that Treacle could not be reasoned with, or made afraid of some future punishment, because she would be too busy having fun right now. 

This was a confrontation a long time in the making, and little Lime Tart wasn’t sure what to do. 

“I’m failing in school now because of you,” Treacle said as she assumed a stiff-legged stance just a few yards away. 

There was a lot that Lime Tart wanted to say about this (mostly hurtful cracks about how stupid Treacle was) but she held her tongue. With each passing second, the situation grew more and more dangerous, because this was how Treacle did things. She would talk, she would say things, the tension would build, and then she would strike when it was least expected. While Treacle wasn’t smart at all, she was gifted at bullying, a sort of idiot savant for schoolyard terror. 

And Lime Tart felt diminished for getting sucked into it. 

How could she be so stupid? 

“As for you,” Treacle said to Stargazer, “you need to get over it. Your dad was weak and dumb. That’s why he died. And one day, you’ll probably die too, just like he did—” 

“Shut up.” The burning in Lime Tart’s ears was a painful, stinging physical sensation that was almost unbearable. There was a horrible droning sound that echoed inside of her ears, and painful twitches in her muscles made her body jerk. 

“Make me,” Treacle replied, and she grinned with smug superiourity. 

This is what Treacle wanted, what she craved, what she lived for. A fight was what Treacle was after. As for Upside-Down Cake, she stood near the gate, fretful and afraid. Lime Tart actually felt bad for her; the pegasus filly probably would be fine if she could escape Treacle’s influence. That was easier said than done, and Lime Tart knew this from her own experience. It was tough to ditch friends, even the bad ones. 

She would not win with words; Treacle, true to her namesake, was too thick to be reached with words. Lime Tart demanded that her brain offer a solution, and perhaps because of the crisis, her brain provided. This time, anyhow. Reaching out with the mysterious power of her magic, she snatched and broke off a huge, scary icicle from the black wrought iron fence. It was heavier than she expected, and she could not recall ever lifting up anything with so much weight. 

It flew through the air while trailing glittery sparks behind it. The thrum of magic was almost deafening in Lime Tart’s ears as she brought the yard-long icicle to bear and leveled the sharp, pointy end at her former friend. There was no smug smile on Treacle’s face, only startled astonishment, and the massive earth pony filly whinnied in alarm. Before Treacle could react, Lime Tart launched the tremendous icicle like a spear. 

Treacle barely had time to turn tail, and she scrambled in the snow to get away. The icicle grazed her generous backside, but drew no blood, caused no injury. Before the icicle had even tumbled into the snow, Lime Tart had already armed herself with a second one. Squinting, she took careful, steady aim, and she hurled the icicle at the rapidly retreating earth pony filly. It flew true, remarkably so, Lime Tart actually frightened herself with her scary accuracy… 

It struck Treacle in her tail, she yelped in terror, the icicle spear shot between her hind legs and buried itself into the snow. Lime Tart already had a third icicle plucked from the fence, and ready to go. But she did not fire. Treacle was bawling now—the bully was actually crying. She was a big crybaby herself. Lime Tart did not expect this, not at all, not even in the slightest, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. 

As she neared the gate where Upside-Down Cake stood, Treacle shouted, “I’m telling! You used your magic to hurt me! You’ve gone evil, just like Nightmare Moon!” 

“Go and tell, you big dumb idiot!” Lime Tart hollered back. “Go and tell about how you tried to pick a fight in the cemetery, you big, fat, stupid, loud-mouthed dummy! I’ll go and tell everypony about all the yellow snow you left behind you, you big, thickheaded dolt!” 

There was, indeed, a visible trail of yellow in the snow that went halfway across the graveyard. 

As her two former friends ran away, galloping through the snow to head back towards town, Lime Tart was overcome by heat. Her skin burned. It felt as though her ears were on fire. There was a fire burning on the inside that was horrid and unpleasant. It made her skin feel too tight and too itchy. She was cooking and she couldn’t stand it. Snorting out huge jets of steam, she yanked off her blanket-coat, tossed it down into the snow beside the grave of Stargazer’s father, and then Lime Tart threw herself to the ground. 

Steam rose around her head when she buried her horn in the snow, and her ears ached from the contrast between the heat inside and the freezing cold of the snow. She rolled around, this a-way and that a-way, not caring that Stargazer might be watching. Everywhere she rolled, the snow melted, and in seconds, she was thoroughly soaked. Drenched even, just as if she’d just climbed out of the bathtub. Everything was too hot, her anger scorched her, burned her up from within, and no matter how much she rolled around, she could not seem to cool off. 

Plumes of steam rose from her body, her legs, and the tip of her horn actually sizzled a bit when it touched fresh snow. All four of her legs flailed and thrashed about while she flopped on her back, all in a vain effort to get cooled off. She almost felt sick because she was so hot and she did not like the jitters that tugged at every muscle. After rolling around, thrashing about, and making a real mess of herself, she looked up and saw Stargazer looking down at her. 

A single tear rolled down his nose, lingered for a bit, it clung to him as if it did not wish to let go, then fell and struck her on her nose. What did she look like right now? Not pretty, not cute. Lime Tart made a dedicated effort to be cute, pretty, and right now, she was neither of those things. She didn’t want Stargazer to look at her, and yet he was. Even worse, it was the sort of stare that wouldn’t quit, wouldn’t end. An awkward, piercing stare that left Lime Tart feeling vulnerable and weirdly naked. 

Was he scared of her? 

He didn’t seem to be.

Another tear rolled down his nose and struck her, which caused her whole body to jerk. 

Everything changed; it only took a moment, an eyeblink. Eyes locked, Lime Tart knew that something happened between them, but she didn’t know what it was. Something profound, maybe even something mystical, or magical in nature, but she didn’t know enough about those things to understand them. All of her magical education came from her mother—which wasn’t much, really. 

He touched her, which caused her body to tremble. Rage and jitters gave way to something else at his tender touch. Stargazer was so careful, so cautious. She knew this because of how he was with his baby sister and his mother. He was mindful not to hurt her with the hard edge of his hoof, but he used his bent fetlock to wipe away her soaked strands of mane that clung to her face. His fetlock was soggy from standing in the snow, but it didn’t matter. Something about his touch still warmed her, while it also cooled her off. Hot anger gave way to something else, a sort of pleasant warmth that made her insides feel delightfully squishy. She even enjoyed the tingles that went shooting down her spine, which was pressed against the hard, frozen earth. 

She rolled, got her legs beneath her, stood up, and then gave herself a good shake. Did she look atrocious now? Probably. She felt twigs, bits of grass, and other things stuck to her soaked pelt. Already, the cold was creeping in, and she shivered in anticipation of the dreadful chill to come. He still had his eyes on her, his mouth hung slightly open, and she could hear him breathing. What might it be like to kiss him right now? She was thoroughly grossed out by the very idea, yet still intrigued by the prospect. Just like in that movie that she saw, or like what happened in her mother’s books. The two lovers looked into each other’s eyes, something magical happened, and then they tried to gobble up each others’ faces. 

Gross. 

So horribly gross. 

Yet appealing. 

“Thank you.” 

His words were unexpected warmth on her cheek, and for the first time, she realised just how close he was. They’d been close before, she glomped him on a regular basis just because, but this was different. This was scary and it caused her heart to pound against her slender, delicate ribs. She should probably say something, but she found herself quite tongue-tied at the moment. A new heat blossomed in her tummy, and traveled almost to her neck. 

“You saved me.” 

“You saved me first,” she blurted out. 

He stood silent. 

“Twilight was right. I have my mark because we’re friends. I found myself because of you. Since becoming friends with you, my mom and I are friends now. Better friends. I feel good about myself. Feel good about life.” 

“You should put your coat back on,” he said to her. 

Lime Tart could not help but feel a little disappointed. She’d just poured her heart out. There was a battle to defend her coltfriend. Impressive magic had been done. Her heart and soul were on display, and his response was to tell her to put her coat on. That was so very like him, quiet and practical, a concern for the little things that had to be done in life. She exhaled her disappointment and inhaled a bit of good cheer. 

There was no finer colt to share a telescope with. 

“My dad, he’s not here to tell me what to do with fillies. I get scared sometimes.” 

Did he sense that he’d done something wrong? That something was amiss? She lifted her blanket-coat from the snow, slung it over her back, and then buttoned the sleeves around her front legs. Even damp, the wool would keep her warm. Stargazer’s coat was too small for him, didn’t cover much of him, and was coming undone in several places. His mother’s mindful mending just didn’t hold up for very long—Stargazer was too large and his coat too small. 

Sidestepping, the slush sloshing beneath her hooves, she stood side to side with him. It felt very grown up and to press up against him thrilled her. It almost didn’t matter that a fight happened, or that things had gone horribly wrong, because right now felt good. She leaned a little bit closer, and found that she didn’t mind the smell of boiled cabbage, which he ate an awful lot of. Of course, he had nice things to eat too, mostly because of her mother. 

“Before we go home, I want to talk to my dad, and say goodbye… maybe you could say something as well.” 

“You take all the time you need,” she whispered back to him. “Don’t hurry and don’t rush.” 
> Rabid reflection
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The frothy-mouthed filly in the mirror had rabies. She was mostly green; oh, not just any shade of green, but a vibrant, creamy lime green. Lemon-yellow spots could be seen speckling her hide, and she had an enormous patch of citrusy sunshine over one eye. A yellow sock covered one leg, which didn’t seem very appealing, not at all. In fact, it rather looked like she’d stepped in pee—at least, when she was teased by her former friends, they said all manner of awful things about her yellowest bits. 

Lime Tart brushed her teeth with youthful vigour and checked herself out in the bathroom mirror above the sink. The stool beneath her hind hooves wiggled a bit because she brushed her teeth so hard, and she braced her front hooves against the edge of the sink. This was her morning ritual, her morning affirmation. She had to learn to love the filly in the mirror, which was quite difficult to do. There was so much wrong with her that Lime Tart didn’t know where to begin. 

The riotous colour for one. She was green like her Granana was green. Granana stood out, she did. Lime Tart wished that she was a shade of muted pastel, something that would blend in. Perhaps a nice shade of pink… or even a muted shade of seafoam green. All that yellow needed to go as well. It was just too yellow. It was so yellow that it gave her former friends a chance to tease her about pee-related stuff, and she hated it. 

Yet, she did her best to learn to love the filly in the mirror, even if her legs were too stubby and her horn too short. Her body was a bit of a disappointment, a bit too pear-shaped. Of course, Lime Tart’s mother was somewhat pear-shaped, narrow in the front and wide in the rear, but her mother was shapely, beautiful, and the object of her father’s endless affections. There was also the fact that Lime Tart was the cause of her mother’s big wide behind. At least, her mother had said that. Lime Tart didn’t have an excuse about why her hindquarters were the way they were, because she was a filly. 

It might be because her parents were bakers. 

Yeah, that was it. 

All those sticky buns had gone right to her buns—which were never sticky because she bathed. Morning baths were the best and off to her left, the enormous claw-footed tub had countless lime-green hairs stuck to the sides. A quick dip in a hot tub, a short soak in the scented water, and then a good rinse under the shower. All in all, a small price to pay to smell nice and be clean. Cute things were clean. Gross, dirty things were not cute, and if Lime Tart couldn’t be pretty like Mom and Granana, at least she could be cute. 

Leaning in closer to the frothy-faced filly, she examined her hide. Too shaggy. Yep, too shaggy. She was a hairy little beast, and while not exactly long-haired, her pelt wasn’t exactly short-haired either. In some places, it had to be at least an inch long, which made her fluffy and floofy. It required extra maintenance, more time spent brushing, and she lived in constant fear of The Frizz. Perhaps the only thing scarier than her former friends, The Frizz was perhaps the most frightening lurking horror in all of Equestria. It transformed her into a hideous hairy beast and did so at the most inopportune moments. 

Even worse, her father could summon The Frizz. He could rub his wings against his sides, until he loudly crackled with static, and then if he touched her, The Frizz would come out of hiding. She tried to run, but it was of no avail. Her legs? Too stubby. Her father’s legs? Too long. This was all the fault of Grandpops, who was a shaggy Shetlander. Pretty ponies were sleek, smooth, and short-haired. They were also gloriously free of The Frizz. 

While the toothbrush went up and down and side to side, she thought about what had happened in the cemetery. It was horrible, but also wonderful, because she and Stargazer had a moment together. Something had changed between them, though she didn’t know what it was. The walk home might have been the greatest walk home ever. It was the best worst day ever, though she feared that there was more trouble still to come. She might get in trouble… or banished. It was a major no-no to use magic to hurt or otherwise threaten somepony. Of course, it was also against the rules to start fights in a graveyard, but the rules always worked out in Treacle’s favour for some reason. 

Life just wasn’t fair. 

Behind her, the door creaked open and she saw… 

“Daddy, get out!” Her words left little foamy flecks of pepperminty toothpaste on the bathroom mirror. “This is my morning me-time!” 

But Pigeon Pie, her father, ignored her commands. He strode into the small bathroom, moved behind Lime Tart, and his reflection appeared in the mirror along with her own. Was he going to make faces? Oh no, he was going to make faces. There was that maniacal gleam in his eyes that was a dead giveaway that he was in the mood to make faces. Lime Tart steeled her resolve, though she knew that it would do her no good. Her father’s faces were her undoing every time. 

He was grey-blue, with a blue-grey mane, and like her, he was a painted pony. His spots were charcoal-grey mostly, but there were a few spots that were the colour of pale woodsmoke. It was his fault that she was a painted pony, and speckled. Up before dawn, he’d already groomed himself and was perfect, as he tended to be. His mane? Slicked back into a sauve swoop. Every inch of his short, sleek pelt gleamed. 

It wasn’t all that long ago that her father used to bathe her, and though she would never say it, there were moments when she missed those times. A tub full of toys. Occasionally, there would be bubbles. Her father got stuck with tub duty so her mother could do all the kitchen prepwork so the bakery could open at the crack of dawn. But she was all grown up now, and she insisted that she bathe herself. Of course, her father kept popping in, just like he did now. 

“My little filly is rabid.” A look of deep concern spread over Pigeon Pie’s face. 

This was how it started. Lime Tart watched her father’s reflection in the mirror, as well as her own. When he moved, she heard the soft rustle of feathers. The sound was distinctive because her father used grooming oil on his feathers, which left them somewhat slick. He leaned in over the sink, his face now mere inches from her own, and he was almost cheek to cheek. She already felt the need to giggle, but she continued to brush her teeth while she maintained her composure. 

“You’re so much like your mother,” he said and there was an abrupt change in the tone of his voice. The silly maniacal gleam in his eyes vanished and there was something else there instead. “Every day you turn out just a little more like her. She spends a lot of time in front of the mirror, just like you.” 

Ears pricked, Lime Tart listened to her father. 

“A little secret about your mother, Tarty,” he said in a low whisper. “She doesn’t think she’s pretty. Your mother doesn’t truly believe that she’s beautiful. So she spends a lot of time in the bathroom in front of the mirror, trying to convince herself that she’s pretty. She brushes her teeth, and brushes herself, and spends a little too much time fretting over her mane. What she doesn’t know is that she looks her best when she first wakes up in the morning. She’s perfect—” 

“Daddy, hush.” She tried to give her father’s reflection a stern look. “I’ve seen Mom when she just wakes up.” 

“Tarty, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he said to her, unconcerned by her stern glare. “Now, your mother and I, we’re considered good looking ponies. We are, there’s no getting around that. But it is all an illusion. All magic done in a mirror. Tarty, ponies are going to like you, because you’re pretty. You are. I’m not just saying that ‘cause I’m your father and you’re my pretty, perfect daughter. 

“And that’s what worries me, Tarty. Lots of ponies are going to like you for all of the worst reasons, the most shallow of reasons. But, you’ll know who actually loves you, Tarty. They’ll be the ones who will see you at your worst, and still think that you’re pretty.” 

Quite unexpectedly, Lime Tart thought of Stargazer, and how he’d looked at her when she was on the ground, trying to cool off in the snow. Drenched, soggy, covered with old dead leaves and bits of twigs. A ferocious flush burned her cheeks, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. She certainly wasn’t pretty at that moment, no. She looked at her own reflection and then wondered to herself, did Stargazer think that she was pretty? 

He was remarkably quiet on this particular issue. 

“You know, Tarty, when your mother was just a little older than you are right now, she did a little modeling work. Yes, really.” The reflection of her father’s face bobbed up and down in the mirror. “They took a cute little filly and made her stunning. Her face sold soda pop and soap. But that all came to an end one day when your Grandpops decided that he didn’t like how the photographers and others leered at her, and tried to get her to strike suggestive poses… because that’s the sort of thing that sells soda pop and soap. Grandpops beat the stuffing out of those ponies… all of them… and your mother never got modeling work again. What I am trying to say is, everything that happened messed up how your mother saw herself, and how she saw beauty, and there is an artificialness about it all that I really hope that you don’t get sucked up in.” 

He sighed, shook his head from side to side, and then patted Lime Tart with his wing. 

“I have to go and prepare the lobby,” he said, and then he backed away. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Tarty… never forget that.” 

With her toothbrush dangling from the corner of her mouth, Lime Tart watched as her father’s reflection vanished from the mirror. 



 

Lime Tart bounced down the stairs two at a time (much to the consternation of her mother, who feared things like broken legs) and spilled out into the kitchen. It was gloriously warm and smelled of baked goods. The kitchen was cosy, a bit messy, and Lime Tart’s favourite room. It was long, narrow, and had a little nook off at the far end, where the backdoor happened to be. In this nook they hung their coats, but for Lime Tart, that was the place where she liked to sit and read, so she could be close to her mother while she worked. 

Blonde Roux sat at the end of the preparation table, and from the looks of things, she was preparing the soup of the day. Or at least getting all of the prep-work done. A dozen knives chopped up mounds of broccoli, while a half-a-dozen knives cubed up a block of cheese. It was all effortless work on the part of Blonde Roux, and Lime Tart was endlessly fascinated by her mother’s command of the kitchen. 

Her mother was beautiful. She was like a golden biscuit fresh out of the oven, a perfect, even golden brownish colour that was more gold than brown. Her mane was the colour of honey and her golden eyes gleamed with merriment. Blonde Roux loved her work, and so it wasn’t work for her, but fun. Lime Tart didn’t quite understand it, but she knew it was important. She and Stargazer would grow up to be astronomers, and so their work wouldn’t seem like work either, if what her mother said was true. 

“Ah, Bubelah, you’re up. We need to talk.” 

Lime Tart froze in place. Did her mother know? Mothers had a way of knowing. Did she know about the cemetery and what took place there? Had Treacle tattled? Would she be stood in the corner, or banished? Banishment seemed likely. Doing bad things with magic was frowned upon. There was something called a stigma that affected unicorns, and while Lime Tart wasn’t certain what it was, she didn’t want to be cursed by it. Which seemed more likely now, because she’d already trod down the wrong path. 

Perhaps she should have told her mother and tattled on herself. 

“I like what you’ve done with your mane, Bubelah. All swept-over to the side. That looks good on you. Sit down so we can talk.” She gestured at the wooden chair beside her with her hoof. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.” 

Bad news? 

Still fearful of trouble, Lime Tart made her legs move. She trudged over to the table, climbed up into the chair, and then almost fell off when she tried to sit down. Her mother didn’t save her, but she knew that her mother would have saved her if she were in real danger. The chair wobbled a bit as she turned herself over and got situated. It was a full-sized chair, for grownups, and she was a filly. So climbing up into the tall chair was quite an accomplishment, and she did it on her own. 

It was a long, long way down to the floor from up here. 

While she felt quite accomplished, there was the matter that she could barely see over the edge of the table. She didn’t want a box or a few books to sit on—that left her feeling foalish—so she was stuck being a small filly at a large table. It was a stark reminder of just how much she needed to grow, but it was also liberating because she could still remember sitting in her highchair. A memory that was just too embarrassing to recall. 

“I got a telegraph yesterday,” Blonde Roux said to her daughter. “Granana and Grandpops won’t be coming for Hearth’s Warming. Granana’s best friend slipped on some icy stairs and broke her leg. She also concussed herself. That poor mare. If only the cheapskate landlord had put a little salt on the stairway.” The busy mare rolled her eyes so hard that her whole head swayed with them. 

Lime Tart, while worried and a little disappointed, was also secretly relieved. She had a plan, one that she hadn’t yet sprung on her mother. There was a pony in need of a Hearth’s Warming miracle, and that couldn’t happen if Granana and Grandpops came to visit. Of course, with them no longer coming, she might still be able to spring her plan on her mother, and get her to agree. 

“Bubelah, whatever you do, don’t be a cheapskate.” Pointing at the mound of broccoli with a knife, Blonde Roux shook her head. “Look at how much broccoli I put in the soup. Just look. Now I could sell a soup with a lot less broccoli and cheese, but it just wouldn’t be the same. We have a reputation, Bubelah, and while it costs us a little money to maintain it, it’s like advertising. Word of mouth spreads like a room temperature butter.” 

With a turn of her head, the little filly glanced in the direction of the broccoli. Less broccoli would be better. She was not a fan of broccoli and cheese soup, because it caused tummy troubles out the wazoo. Literally out of her wazoo. At least, she suspected that was her wazoo, because what else could a wazoo be? It was like a kazoo, but worse, so wazoo. There were times when her mother and Granana spoke a completely different language. At least, it sounded like one. 

“Don’t be a bully, and don’t be a cheapskate. Got it.” Distracted, she paused for a moment and tried to stop thinking about her wazoo. “I’m glad that Granana and Grandpops aren’t coming—oh, that came out wrong.” 

Much to Lime Tart’s immediate relief, she did not see anger in her mother’s eyes. All of the knives were still chopping, mincing, and cubing. If her mother was angry, her work would have slowed, or stopped completely. She had to fix this little blunder somehow, explain herself. There was a plan to do good at stake, and she found that she wanted to do good to make up for her past mistakes. 

“There’s something I wanted to ask you about Hearth’s Warming, but I haven’t, and with Granana and Grandpops not coming, it makes it easier.” 

“Why haven’t you asked me?” 

“I was worried that you’d get mad if I asked. It would have been a big change in plans. You’ve been mad at me lately.” 

“Well, I was.” The knives slowed in their work as Blonde Roux’s face fell. “I’m not mad now. Lime, you really, really hurt me and you didn’t even know it. You hurt your father, too… but he’s better at hiding it than I am.” 

Ears down, Lime Tart wondered what she did that hurt her mother. Oh, she had some guesses, but she didn’t know for certain. Her mom was angry about her awful friends, or was. But hurt? Had she said something? Done something? Was it because she left every day to go with Stargazer to visit his father? Sometimes, she didn’t finish her chores, and while that was kind of bad, she felt it would be worse if she wasn’t there for her friend when he needed her. 

“How about I tell you about why I was angry, and then you ask me about Hearth’s Warming?” 

Peering over the edge of the table at her mother, Lime Tart nodded. 

“Bubelah”—her mother’s voice was warm and buttery—“this might come as a shock, but your father is a huge dork. A nerd. I mean, he collects dolls, and has for all of his life. Your father wasn’t always the pony he is now, all confident and smooth. He used to be so nervous that he had a stuttering problem. And you… what you did, what you were doing, it upset him so much that his stuttering came back when we had to have a talk with your teachers. That… that left me angry.” 

It was true: her father had a huge collection of dolls, and she rather resented him just a little because she wasn’t allowed to play with the really nice ones. All she could do was look at them in their glass cabinets. Some of the dolls were on display in the bakery lobby, and the customers loved to gawk at them. Dolls of every type, every species, and some of them were as exquisite as they were elegant. 

She could not, however, ever recall her father stuttering. 

“I was your age when I met your father,” her mother continued. “Well, I sort of knew him from school, but I didn’t know him. Your Granana took me with her to the pharmacy, and I felt so grown up, because she allowed me to go off to the toy aisle all by myself. It wasn’t much of a toy aisle, but the pharmacist was a smart one to have something to keep us foals busy. 

“So I turn the corner and there he is. He’s looking at the dolls. And he sees me, and his eyes go all big, and he starts stuttering while he’s trying to explain himself. All of his feathers are sticking out, and he’s all puffed up because he’s so embarrassed.” Here, she paused, and began to fan herself with her right front hoof. 

“I had no idea that I’d find my best friend in the toy aisle that day, but I did. We hit it off. And that’s when things took a turn for the worst for me. I was a popular filly in school, or was. Bubelah, your mom was a triple threat. I could sing, I could dance, and I could act. My tap dancing was second-to-none. But after I met your father, my name was Mud. Oy vey. Your father, he’s a weirdo. A nerd. A dork. And because I like him, because I’m with him, I’m a dork by association. Bubelah, your father was bullied. Constantly. Because he liked dolls. And I got bullied, because I liked your father, and I stood up for him. Which made everything worse, let me tell you. Your father wouldn’t fight back, and he had a filly fight for him. Which just made the teasing worse, oy vey. What a ruckus.” 

“And you were mad at me because I was turning into a bully—” 

“Yes,” Blonde Roux blurted out while she threw both forelegs out wide. “Oh, you have no idea how angry I was with you. I would lay awake at night in bed and itch. Kept me awake and I couldn’t sleep at night. All I could think about was all my old tormentors and how you were turning into one of them. Ooh, I wanted to shake some sense into you.” 

For a moment, she thought about telling her mother what happened in the graveyard—but then she didn’t. If nothing was said, then her mother didn’t need to know. She did, however, feel pretty good about standing up for Stargazer, because that made her like her mother, and Lime Tart wanted oh-so-very-much to be like her mother, because her mother was a good pony. 

“I became your father’s confidence,” Blonde Roux said matter-of-factly. “And he became my guide to a world that I didn’t know existed. A quiet, subdued world. We came here to Rainbow Falls to raise you, Bubelah, but it meant giving up the museums and art galleries that your father loved. He would show me paintings and sculptures and all kinds of art, and he would tell me that I was the prettiest piece of art in the room.” Her cheeks flushed a dark, reddish brown. “Dolls are art for him, you know. They represent existence. Little versions of ourselves, with clothes, and dollhouses, and all the consumer gewgaws that define our own existences. A doll can represent the era in which it was made, and your father could tell you so much more about all of this if you’ll listen.” 

Again, something resonated within Lime Tart. Stargazer had shown her a new world through a telescope, and that’s when he truly became himself. Oh, he wasn’t a motormouth, but he suddenly had so much to say and he would talk about big lofty things that she had trouble comprehending. He underwent an extraordinary transformation and displayed a side of himself that so few got a chance to see. She remembered the night that her cutie mark had appeared, that night with Princess Twilight Sparkle. 

Suddenly, she appreciated her father so much more, and she wanted to talk with him. 

Her mother, too. She was glad and relieved that she was like her mother. Horn a-glowing, her mother put down her knives, fetched up a scraper, then began scraping all of the finely-minced broccoli off of the edge of the table and into an enormous stainless steel mixing bowl. She understood her mother’s anger and was thankful that her mother didn’t take her temper out on her. It dawned on her that she had extraordinarily good parents, and she was lucky to have them. 

Stargazer had lost his father and now, she began to understand that loss. 

“So how about you, Bubelah. What did you want to ask?” 

For perhaps the first time ever in her life, Lime Tart wondered what ‘Bubelah’ meant and why her mother called her that. A smile showed itself unawares, the sort of smile that could only come from a habitual tooth-brusher. Why, Lime Tart was almost overcome with the warm fuzzies, which left her tingly all over. She decided it was best to just spit it out, to say it and hold nothing back. 

She sat up a little straighter, a little taller, and said, “I wanted to spend Hearth’s Warming with Stargazer, his mom, and his baby sister. Not just me, but all of us. Together.” 

Across the table, Blonde Roux’s face wrinkled with seriousness. “Bubelah, heart’s dearest, you can’t just invite yourself like that and—” 

“Why not?” asked Lime Tart, who was surprised by the lack of her own anger. “We have to invite ourselves to make the Hearth’s Warming miracle happen. Stargazer is hurting. He goes out to the cemetery every day to talk to his dad. This is going to be their first holiday without him. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t help?” 

“Bubelah, this is a hard time for them,” her mother said while the furrows above her eyes grew ever-deeper. “I don’t know if we should intrude.” 

“We should do more than intrude,” Lime Tart said to her mother. “We should invade. With food. And drinks. And stuff. Because Stargazer’s mother can’t leave her house and I’ve been over there and they don’t even have any decorations.” 

Blonde Roux’s lips pressed tight together until her mouth almost vanished. It was now a tight little line, all shrunken in such a way that it made her nostrils look huge. It was the sort of face that she made when Lime Tart came home from school with a note from her teacher—and not a good note, either. Now that she’d brought this up, she was determined to do it. Somehow saying it had steeled her resolve to make it happen. Even if she had to do it alone, she would. 

“Bubelah, you’re young. You don’t understand these things. There are social graces to think of and so much more. I really don’t know if we should. This is a very delicate issue. We could end up hurting instead of helping.” 

“You were the one to help Stargazer’s mother,” Lime Tart said in response. “All that stuff you do to make sure she’s getting what she needs. To be her voice ‘cause she can’t complain. You make sure that she has food in the house, and firewood, and you make the neighbors all work together so she doesn’t do without. She needs a Hearth’s Warming, and if we don’t do it, who will?” 

“Bubelah, I really don’t know about this. What makes you so sure that we could help?” 

“Because we’re the only ponies who can,” she replied with great confidence. “Stargazer lost his father and I thought that maybe since I still have mine that maybe I should share mine with him. In school, we learned that Hearth’s Warming is all about sharing what we have with others and—” 

Lime Tart yelped when she was suddenly yanked out of her chair. Up she was lifted with dizzying speed, and she almost somersaulted over the table. She could not ever recall moving at this terrific speed, but before she could think too much about it, she slammed into her mother so hard that it almost knocked the wind out of her. Before she could gasp, before she could recover, her mother’s forelegs were wrapped tight around her, and her mother began to squeeze.

Overstimulated, overwhelmed, it took several long seconds to understand what was happening. Her mother was crying; Lime Tart could feel the tears soaking into her pelt. Terrible sobs wracked her mother’s body, and being the little filly that she was, Lime Tart felt just awful for causing her mother to cry. She wasn’t sure if she’d live to regret it either, because her mother was making the best effort possible to squeeze out all of Lime Tart’s squishy bits. 

“Mama, I am a tiny and small doll, be careful,” she wheezed as she was smothered. 

It occurred to her that ‘small’ and ‘doll’ rhymed with each other when maybe they shouldn’t. What a strange thing to think about when one was crushed almost to death by their own mother, but these things happened and made no sense. With a dignity that existed well-beyond her age, Lime Tart resigned herself to her terrible fate, smothered by her mother. There were worse fates, but this one was deserved. She’d brought it upon herself. 

“We don’t have much time,” Blonde Roux said to her daughter in a raspy whisper. “I was going to send over a care package the day before. Just treats and stuff. But if we’re all going to go, we’ll need a meal. Something enough for all of us. I already have some of it made, but we’ll need more. You’ll have to help me, Bubelah. Really help me… not just sit and read a book help me. And we’ll have to go to the market later and see if we can find any decorations. We have a lot of work to do. Miracles are all about hard work.” 

“I can help, but I still hafta go to the cemetery later with Stargazer. He can’t go alone.” 

Lime Tart made it a point not to say why. 

“We have a lot of work to do, Bubelah. We must get started right away!” 
> Daddy plays with dolls and that's just fine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Armed with a whisk, Lime Tart stood atop the table and peered into a humongous mixing bowl filled with heavy cream. All she had to do was make whipped cream. Which was easier said than done. But her mother was counting on her, and so was Stargazer and his family. This was more than just making whipped cream; it was a magic lesson. While it had nothing to do with friendship, or maybe it did and she just couldn’t see it, it was still a practical life lesson. The bowl was so big that she had trouble peering over the edge of it, even as she stood upon the preparation table beside it. 

Cautiously, she poked the heavy cream with her whisk. 

So far, so good. 

Smooth circular motion, her mother said, and so she did just that. A bit of a slow start, but a promising one. Such was her concentration that her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth (as it tended to do unbidden) and she squinted in a ridiculous manner that she was utterly unaware of. Outside, the sun was still making its best effort to rise and bring light to Rainbow Falls. The windows were still dark for the most part, and the kitchen was lit with the harsh overhead light. 

“Spank it, Bubelah, spank it like a bad, bad baby—” 

“Mama, no! You don’t spank babies. They’re babies!” 

Her mother laughed and dumped a load of chopped chocolate into a double boiler. 

Lime Tart had only been spanked once, that she could recall. Just once, with a wooden spoon, and her mother popped her a smart one right across her backside. It could have been a whole lot harder, but wasn’t, though it still stung a bit. A word had been said, a particularly vile and unpleasant word, a word that would never be repeated. As awful as the single spank was, her mother’s upset state was somehow worse. The lesson was learned and she hadn’t been spanked since, though she was intimately familiar with the corner in the living room where she was forced to stand for an hour if she brought home a bad note from school. 

As unfair as it felt at the time, little Lime Tart had since learned her lesson. Standing in the corner was entirely avoidable. All she had to do was behave and the corner could be avoided. Behaving was getting easier, too. She’d dumped her old friends and spent more time with Stargazer, who might very well be the most behaved foal in all of Rainbow Falls. He was quiet, thoughtful, considerate, polite, was always quick to say please or thank you, and he never went around looking to cause trouble.

The whisk began to move on its own accord as her thoughts distracted her. 

Her mother practically bounced around the kitchen and did everything all at once. A piping hot pan of poofy pastries were pulled out of the oven. One by one, she peeled them from their sheet pan and placed them on a shiny metal rack. If they were left to cool on the sheet pan, moisture would condense around their bottoms and they would become soggy. Nopony wanted to eat a soggy bottomed pastry. Lime Tart knew this baking trick because her mother had explained it to her. While the poofy pastries were dealt with, a dirty pan was put into the sink, and the chocolate in the double boiler was stirred with a spatula. A timer dinged and as another pan was pulled out of the oven, a different pan loaded down with unbaked crackers was put in. No matter how much her mother made, there were never enough crackers by the end of the day. For as long as Lime Tart could remember, which felt like a very long time, they were always sold out of crackers by mid-afternoon. 

“Mom, how did you become a baker?” she asked. “Dad said you were a model and that Grandpops beat the stuffing out of some ponies.” 

“Oh, Bubelah, Grandpops didn’t beat the stuffing out of ponies, he hospitalised them. He’s got a wickedly bad temper.” Her mother shudder-shivered, then continued, “I got into modeling so I could get my hoof in the door as an actor. Granana and Grandpops are both actors, but you know that. Not big actors, but they’ve played important bit parts over the years. I had all the right stuff… I even had parents in the biz. But it is your father’s fault that I’m a baker.”

“Really?” When Lime Tart turned to look at her mother, the whisk maintained its steady circular motion. 

“He was sad… and he was beat up in school. Some greasy hoodlums cornered him in the bathroom.” The tone of her mother’s voice changed dramatically, and her magic became considerably more forceful. “I got it into my head that I would bake him a cake, so I did. A chocolate and sour cream cake. Nothing too fancy. Nothing like what I can make now. It turned out a little lopsided, and the frosting wasn’t my best work, but I did it on my own. Just me. And that’s how I got my spoon, whisk, and spatula, Bubelah.” 

Then, her mother smiled and added, “That’s also how I got your father.” 

“So Granana and Grandpops are actors, you’re a baker, and I’m going to do whatever it is that I’m going to do with my constellation of Equuleus. It’s weird how life turns out.” 

“Don’t tell her I said this, but your Granana isn’t even that good of an actress. Her cutie mark is a chameleon, and that’s what she does. She can change her colours on a whim. That’s incredibly useful on both stage and in film. My mother made a career of it somehow. Call it luck, maybe. For me, it was an indicator of her mood. If all was well, she was green… just like you’re green. If my father kissed her, she’d turn pink all over. When she was mad, she’d turn red and orange. Once, when she got tipsy on Hearth’s Warming, she turned an obnoxious shade of plaid—” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really… Bubelah. She turned plaid, just like the tacky curtains. And your Grandpops, with him being a Shetlander, let me tell you, jokes were made after that party.” Blonde Roux’s eyes rolled and she chuckled as she went about her work. 

“I’ve never seen one of Grandpops’ movies—” 

“Nor will you,” her mother said. “Not until you’re older. He always plays the same role… big hairy brute. He’s been a mobster, a cop, a father rescuing his foalnapped daughter, and a vengeful killer out for revenge after his wife’s murder. It doesn’t matter which movie he’s in, he always plays the same part. It’s the accent, I think. All these years in Equestria and he still doesn’t talk like us, nor does he want to. All he wants to do is drink his whiskey and smoke his stogies and oy vey, what a stink those stogies leave in the furniture and draperies and curtains. Grandpops is a big smelly mashugana. Ugh!” 

It was true: her grandfather smelled; so much so it was difficult to give him kisses. 

“He does all of his own stunts. That’s his claim to fame. That is how he’ll be remembered.” As she turned about to face the sink, Blonde Roux’s voice softened. “I’ll always remember him for different reasons. He was my father. I saw a side of him that the public did not. I wish they could’ve seen him as I saw him, but that would’ve probably destroyed his career.” 

“Do you miss Applewood?” she asked her mother. 

“Yes,” her mother said right away. “And no. It was glitzy, and glamorous, and also dirty and smelly. Crime was getting bad. Lots of homeless ponies, all of them thinking that they could get into the biz if somepony would just give them a chance. The schools are all overcrowded with snobby little snots. I know, because I went to those schools, and I was something of a snobby little snot.” She tossed a dirty pan into the sink, then turned to face her daughter and said, “That’s why we left. I didn’t want you to grow up like that. And then you started to do what you did and it felt like I left home for nothing. Nada. Bupkis. I am so glad that you’ve straightened yourself out, Bubelah.” 

The whisk was getting hard to move now. Lime Tart had become distracted by her mother’s stories, and so she peered into the massive metal mixing bowl. Some magic had taken place, because the heavy cream was gone now, mostly. In its place was whipped cream, and lots of it. A great frothy mess of it and it turned thicker with every stroke of her whisk. 

“Good work, Bubelah. Pace yourself, we’re just getting started.” 



 

Outside, snow fell. Huge fluffy flakes, the light and airy kind that were powdery on the ground. It would be difficult to walk to the cemetery later, but it had to be done. It was necessary; the grave had to be cleaned off and Stargazer had to deal with his grief somehow. The skies were grey and the sun was totally obscured by heavy, dull grey clouds. While it was dark and gloomy outside, Lime Tart did not feel dark and gloomy. In fact, she felt better than she had in a long time. For her, the clouds had parted and she could see the bright of day. 

Talking with her mother and father had done much to brighten her mood. 

“You’re a mess, Tarty,” her father said as he put down a steaming cup of cocoa. 

There was a lull in customers at the moment, which was good, because her father needed a break after the morning rush. So did her mother, but there was no break to be had, because the holiday crunch was upon them. She watched as her father sat down in the wooden chair on the other side of the table. He sighed, stretched his wings, and then turned his head from side to side to pop his neck, a sound that made Lime Tart shudder. 

“Mom and I, we talked about your dolls, Dad.” She saw his eyebrow rise. “Mom told me about the drug store and how you met. How you got picked on.” Overcome with guilt for what she’d done to Stargazer, she cast her gaze into the cup of cocoa that her father had brought her. “I think I understand a bit more why you don’t want me to play with them.” 

“Tarty, you smash your own dolls together to make them kiss. That gives me nightmares.” 

“I understand.” 

She heard her father inhale, and then with her gaze still sunk into her cocoa, she heard him say, “When you get older, and you show that you can be careful, I’ll let you help me with them. They have to be dusted, and maintained, and kept looking nice. Maybe when you show me that you can be responsible, we can do that together. I’d like that.” 

Hopeful, she looked up at her father, and beamed. She couldn’t help herself, she felt good about this. Fantastic even. With a little work, she could show that she was responsible, but she wasn’t sure how. Then, her smile faltered a bit as she thought about her broken dolls, her busted toys, and how careless she was. Stargazer was a careful sort. He could make telescope adjustments that she had trouble with, and he wasn’t even a unicorn. She thought of how he held his sister, and how gentle he was, which made her feel warm fuzzies all over. 

Her father, Pigeon Pie, and Stargazer had something in common. 

“When you were born, I was beside myself,” he said to her. “The doctor said that you’d be a colt, but the doctor was wrong, and I was giddy. I had a daughter that I could share my dolls with. You were the best thing that happened to me… well, you and your mother. Tarty, you are my favourite doll, the best doll that I have.” 

Hearing her father’s words, Lime Tart’s cheeks grew warm, but not in the way they did when she got angry. She looked up at him; he towered over the tiny table meant for foals and he didn’t exactly fit into the chair very well, but he’d sat down with her to talk. He talked with her and she had a sudden understanding of just how precious this was. Stargazer’s father was gone, and she thought about what the colt had said about how his father wasn’t there to talk to him about fillies, and how he got scared. 

The clever filly that she was, Lime Tart was struck with quite an idea. 

“Dad, can I talk to you about colts?” 

Her father seemed surprised, and perhaps a bit panicked. 

“Colds?” he said. “Always cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze.” 

“Daddy, no. Colts.” 

“Uh… Tarty—” 

“Stargazer’s father is gone, and Stargazer can’t talk to his dad about fillies, and everything is all confusing for him, and he gets scared because he doesn’t know what to do with me sometimes.” 

“Huh…” All of the breath slowly drained out of her father’s body in a prolonged groan. 

“But I still have you, and for that I’m grateful, and I thought maybe we could talk.” 

He inhaled—quite deeply this time—and then groaned again. 

“We could talk about colts while we play with dolls.” 

Saying nothing, Pigeon reached up and scratched his chin with his left front hoof. 

“Dad, you’re acting funny.” 

“No, I’m not.” His feathers rustled as his wings shifted against his sides. “I’m acting perfectly normal for a panicking pegasus.” 

“You’re not running around and clucking—” 

“Tarty… that’s awful. Hilarious, but awful. You have your mother’s humour. Never use it for evil.” 

“I’ll try.” 

“I’m still amazed by you,” he said to her. “Every day you grow up a little bit more. It’s all happening so fast. You started talking and then you showed signs of intelligence. You were more than a fuzzy green potato that was the notorious diaper-dumper. Then you started asking questions about everything under the sun.” He paused to consider his own words. “And given recent developments, now you want to know everything there is under the moon as well.” 

Reaching out, she wrapped both of her fetlocks around her cup of cocoa, because she didn’t know what else to do with them. The cup was warm, but not too hot against her skin. Diaper-dumper? There was probably a story that went along with that, but she didn’t dare ask. This was new, though she didn’t know exactly what this was. Something had changed this morning with her parents, and she found herself enjoying it. 

“How come I don’t have a grandma and grandpa on your side?” she asked. It was a question that she’d asked before, but it was always artfully dodged. Since her mother and father were being so open, maybe today things would be different. 

“How about we talk about colts instead?” he replied. 

She did nothing to hide her disappointment. 

“Look… Tarty, it’s hard for me.” 

“Did they die?” she asked with all of the bluntness a filly her age could muster. 

“I… well, I don’t know. At least with my mother. Tarty, she never came home from work one day.” Pigeon Pie rested both of his forelegs across his barrel and shifted in his seat. “The cops say that she might have been taken by diamond dogs. That happens, you know.” Nervous, he licked his lips. “My father, he didn’t believe that, and he didn’t believe that she’d left him. He blamed me. Said it was the shame of having a sissy son.” 

“I’m sorry.” She was sorry. In light of this new detail, she now understood how and why her behaviour, her bullying hurt her father so much. The pain on his face was almost too much for her to bear. 

“About a week after the cops told us they had no leads, my father left. I didn’t know it though. It was just a mostly normal day and I came home from school and my father, he never came home from work. It was my mother disappearing and not coming home all over again. Later that night, I went out… it was dark out… and went to your mother’s house for help.” 

Rather than blurt out how she felt, Lime Tart listened; it felt like the grownup thing to do. 

“It took a few weeks, but I found out that my father had just skipped town. He was gone. Went off to live with his brother in Fillydelphia. I suppose that losing Mom hurt him in some way and he never recovered. Of course, he and I never got along. He liked to smash my dolls and break them. Mom and him would fight about it. There was always a lot of shouting. Always so much fighting.” He sighed. “I don’t think my mother left me. She would’ve taken me with her. So, something happened. I don’t know what.” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you with how I was,” she said to her father, and she meant it. Her heart was heavy in the worst way and she felt truly rotten on the inside. 

“You didn’t know.” She watched as her father shrugged and saw the hurt in his eyes. “You had no way of knowing. Tarty, you’re a foal. A little one at that. Foals do dumb stuff. They’re not all that aware of the world around them and just sort of do things. I made it a point not to hold anything against you. Though, some of what you did really did make me start to worry.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are, Tarty. And I know you mean it.” 

So, her grandfather—not Grandpops—was a bully too. It was awful to think about, but she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she got it from him. Did this sort of thing get passed along in families? All of her quirks came from somewhere, she supposed. Like her ferocious temper, which had come from out of nowhere. That shocked her more than just a little bit. What made a pony a pony? Were they stuck being what they were, or could they change? She decided that change was possible, because she had changed. Well, she was still changing, and while it was a lot of hard work, it seemed worth it so far. She thought about what Princess Twilight Sparkle had said, and then was curious about the great mystery of life. 

Hurting others was wrong and her careless actions had hurt so many. Not just Stargazer, but her mother and father. Who else? She thought of ripples in a pond and for the first time in her young life, she was aware of something so much larger than herself that she could not comprehend it at all. Everything was connected in ways that she could not understand. It made her want to cry, but she was determined to be a big girl about this. The best thing that she could do was to try and do no harm—which seemed impossibly difficult, but she had to try. 

The importance of doing good was making an effort to not hurt others, and she understood that now, even if she could not fully comprehend the enormity of it all. More so than ever, she resolved to do good, because the guilt, the knowing that she’d hurt the ones she loved was too much to bear. Teasing. Tormenting. Picking on Stargazer and others. Even worse, she hadn’t really wanted to do it, but she did it to have friends—to fit in. There was so much pressure, so much stress to make friends and to have friends that she made poor friends. 

While she could do nothing about the past, she could make the future better. 

“Uh-oh,” her father said quite suddenly whilst he looked out the iced-over window. “Oh that’s not good. Here comes Mrs. Crumpledumpling and she looks angry. And there’s Upside-Down Cake. Goodness, what happened to her face? That’s quite a shiner! I hope her mother didn’t do that…” 

Something icy gripped Lime Tart’s innards, and she could not help but panic. 



 

The portly pegasus mare almost tore the door from its hinges as she entered, while a gust of wind and snowflakes swirled around her. With her wing, she shoved her daughter inside—not gently—and then stood there fuming with quiet fury. Lime Tart was terrified and she could not believe what she saw. Upside-Down Cake’s whole face was lumpy, and she had a black eye which was swollen shut. Just looking at the poor pegasus filly caused alarming tingles in her dock, and Lime Tart wasn’t sure if she could endure the sight of it for much longer. 

The cocoa on the table, now forgotten, grew cool.

“Where’s Blondie?” Mrs. Crumpledumpling demanded before Pigeon Pie could say anything. “Where is your wife? I need to have a word with her! I need to get down to the bottom of this!” With one wing extended, she pointed with her primaries at her daughter. “And I need to understand your daughter’s involvement in this!” 

“Lime Tart did that? What—” 

“No, Mr. Pie, I don’t think your daughter did this, but I hope she knows the truth! My daughter won’t tell me what happened, and that disgusting little Treacle is a liar! I don’t know what happened and I’m trying to make sense of it.” 

“S-s-should we c-c-call t-the c-con-con-c-constable?” 

For the first time ever, Lime Tart heard her father stutter, and was stunned. 

“Oh, I plan to do just that, but only when I know for sure what happened! I have a good guess as to what’s happened, but I need to talk to Lime Tart about it. And like I said, I don’t think she did this. I don’t think she did this at all. But I think she might know what happened.” 

“G-g-goodness. I’ll g-g-go g-g-get-get my wife.” 
> An Upside-Down Cake turned all upside-down
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lime Tart told them everything. She spared no detail. While she told her tale of what had happened with every relevant detail that she could remember, her mother served tea. A whirlwind of activity went from place to place in the kitchen, as work still had to be done, but Blonde Roux gave Mrs. Crumpledumpling all of the attention she could spare. Cakes, treats, and pastries would burn if not attended, and somehow, Blonde Roux stayed on top of it all. 

The fact that she did it so effortlessly was impressive. 

Calmly, the forthright filly told them of how Stargazer made a daily visit to his father’s grave, and how she went with him. It bothered him that snow covered his father’s grave, so she removed it so that Stargazer might feel a little better. When she reached the part of Treacle’s arrival, she became quite animated and began to wave her forelegs around. And of course she spoke of her own actions, and how she used her magic to scare off Treacle, but she made it clear that no real harm was done, and that she certainly hadn’t hurt Upside-Down Cake, because she would never, ever do that. At least, she hoped she wouldn’t. 

Upside-Down Cake never said a word. 

Not a peep. 

Absolutely nothing was said, not a sound was made. 

The distraught pegasus filly that sat across the table could barely be seen. She sat with her face downcast, her blacked eye turned away from the others. Occasionally, her ear above her injured eye twitched, and she would grimace from pain—but she made not a sound, not a single whimper escaped her. She was a pitiful sight and Lime Tart’s heart ached for her former-friend. 

When her tale was finished, Lime Tart fell silent, and waited for the adults to have their say. 





“How dare you!” Mrs. Crumpledumpling said to her daughter. “How dare you! How did it come to this anyhow? I thought I raised you better. You started trouble in a graveyard! With that weird little colt that’s grieving for his father. And you still won’t tell me how your face ended up like that. I know for certain that Lime Tart didn’t do that, which leads me to conclude that Treacle must have done it, and I can guess why, too!” 

Upside-Down Cake flinched and turned away from her mother. 

Meanwhile, Lime Tart wanted to tell Mrs. Crumpledumpling that Stargazer wasn’t weird, but she held her tongue. Right now was no time for sass. This was serious. She was almost overcome with the need to go over and comfort her former-friend, because she couldn’t stand the sight of Upside-Down Cake’s suffering. For now, she would hold her tongue, but when this was over, maybe, just maybe, she might mention to Mrs. Crumpledumpling that Stargazer wasn’t the weirdo she believed him to be. 

“Did Treacle do this to you just to get Lime Tart in trouble?” Every inhale that Mrs. Crumpledumpling took was heavy and every exhale that came out of her nostrils was almost a snort. She was scary, the very model of maternal fury, and her wings twitched against her sides. “You tell me, Downy. I’m not fooling around with you!” 

Still silent, Upside-Down Cake curled up into a miserable ball. 

“I am so sick of this, Missy! Sick to death!” These words were spat out and Upside-Down Cake shuddered with every word spoken by her mother. “If you don’t tell me what happened, there will be no Hearth’s Warming this year! You’ll spend it in your room—no, not your room, you have too much stuff in there! I’ll lock you in the closet and there will be no Hearth’s—” 

“No, you can’t do that!” Lime Tart blurted out quite suddenly. 

A sheet pan of cookies almost fell to the floor. 

Every adult in the room turned to look at little Lime Tart, and her mouth went dry. She wanted to slide off of her chair and hide beneath the table, but that would do no good. This was bad. Real bad. Without thinking, she’d run her mouth and told an adult that they couldn’t do something. Her father seemed surprised, or maybe it was shock. As for her mother, her expression was unreadable, but Lime Tart figured that there was a lecture in her immediate future. But Mrs. Crumpledumpling… the fury of a thousand storms could be seen in her eyes, but she was silent. 

“Um”—scared almost to death, her heart pounding like a hammer against her ribs, little Lime Tart nervously smacked her lips, a habit that she’d never fully broke—“you can’t call off Hearth’s Warming. It’s even more important now because of the fighting.” Terrified, she licked her lips, felt the need to hiccup, and feared that she might just blow chunks. “What if Hearth’s Warming never happened because of the Founders fighting? Equestria wouldn’t exist.” 

Much to her ever-growing terror, Lime Tart’s words were met with profound silence. 

“We’ll get windigos,” she somehow managed to say in the squeakiest of voices. 

A teeny, tiny urp escaped her as her guts gurgled. This was the scariest moment of her life—she could think of nothing scarier. But Hearth’s Warming was important and she had to save it somehow. Not just for Stargazer, but it seemed that her former-friend was also in need of rescue. Adults had a terrible power if they could stop Hearth’s Warming from happening somehow, and Lime Tart wasn’t sure what she could do to stand against it, but she had to try. 

Mindful of the steaming teacups, Lime Tart scrambled up onto the table, and then navigated an obstacle course of food and drink. For a moment, she had to veer on two legs, her left ones, but she miraculously kept her balance. After she lept through the steam of a cooling fruitcake, she found herself at the far end of the long preparation table. Upside-Down Cake was still huddled in her chair, all curled up into a tight, miserable ball. 

“Did Treacle do this to you just to get me into trouble after what I did?” Foreleg extended, Lime Tart reached out—not for her former-friend, but her friend. Then, her head turned around so that she could look at Mrs. Crumpledumpling. “I don’t think you listened to me. Upside-Down Cake ran away when the trouble started. She ran away. She ran away. Maybe if you listened, she’d talk to you.” 

Before Mrs. Crumpledumpling could respond, Lime Tart turned to face her friend once more. “Tell me what happened, please? Please? Pretty please, with sugar on top? Pretty please, all tied up with a bow?” 

Tears began to trickle down Upside-Down Cake’s cheeks. 

“We can still be friends,” Lime Tart said to her friend as she pushed through her own fear. “After all that has happened, we can still be friends. I’ll help you stay out of trouble. Together, we can ditch Treacle, and she can’t boss us around no more.” 

A low, shuddering moan could be heard from Upside-Down Cake. 

Heart still pounding, Lime Tart gestured with her extended leg and tried to coax her friend to respond. A whirlwind of pots and pans flew around the kitchen, but she failed to notice them. There was only Upside-Down Cake, and she was suffering. Just like Stargazer suffered. Lime Tart was keenly aware of the suffering of others, and had been ever since her constellation of Equuleus had appeared, though she herself had not yet made this connection. 

She was unaware of the power of her purpose, even as it manifested… 

“Stargazer will also be your friend.” 

“I don’t have a telescope to share so he’ll be nice to me.” It was the first words said by Upside-Down Cake, mumbled through quivering lips. 

“Is that what you think?” asked Lime Tart. “That he’s only my friend because I won the telescope?” She sucked in a deep breath so hard that it made her lungs hurt. If she had to overcome Upside-Down Cake’s pettiness, she would. If that is what it took to save Hearth’s Warming, then that is what she would do. It hurt more than a little and dragged her mind back to the time when she too, was petty and awful. 

“We’re not friends because of the telescope, we’re friends because I stopped being a jerk.” Once more, she waggled her foreleg in an attempt to lure her friend into sitting up. “And he’ll be your friend, if you let him. He’s not like how we were, he’s nice. And good. And he’s taught me how to be a good pony without telling me anything. All I have to do is try to act like he does. Give him a chance. Give me a chance. Now quit being a dum-dum and tell me what happened.” 

“Why would he be my friend after all I’ve done?” 

This was no easy question to answer, and Lime Tart thought of all the rotten things she’d done. All the mean words said. The time she used her magic to raise the edge of the mud-mat just enough so that he tripped and fell down. All of the class had laughed, and she, Lime Tart, had laughed the loudest. She’d teased him for his awful lunches, and because he was poor. A hot, terrible fury rose up inside of her, and then like a candle, suddenly blew out. Heat was replaced with cold shame, and she rather felt like crying. 

Overcome with emotion, she could no longer wait for Upside-Down Cake to come around. A surge of magic allowed her to lift her friend up from her chair, and she gently plopped the pegasus filly down upon the table beside her. Upside-Down Cake was frozen with fear, terrified, and for good reason: Lime Tart had used her magic to shoot icicles at Treacle. More shame hollowed out Lime Tart’s insides, and she wished that she was a better pony. 

“We do bad things, but that doesn’t make us bad ponies,” she whispered to her friend. “Together, we can still do good. I’m trying to do good right now and it’s super-hard. For all I know, I’m in a lot of trouble after what I did, because I didn’t tell my mom and dad what happened when I came home. It’s what we don’t say that gets us in trouble.” 

“If I tell you, I’ll lose my only friend,” the pegasus filly whispered beneath her breath. 

“Treacle is not your friend,” said Lime Tart in return. 

“I’m scared…” 

“I was too… but I had a friend to help me get through the rough patch.” 

Upside-Down Cake began to sniffle and she leaned against Lime Tart. Then, she collapsed against the fantastically green unicorn, and a great, heaving, shuddering escaped her. She clung to Lime Tart, her barrel heaving, and her wings slapped against her sides. The adults—silent—watched and waited with bated breath. Every pie, every pastry, every fruited cake bore mute witness to this inspired act of friendship. 

“She yelled at me for running away.” At the end of her sentence, Upside-Down Cake shivered and then clung tight to Lime Tart. “You know how Treacle is. She hollered at me and called me a coward and she said awful things. You know how she is… you know… she got me distracted and then she jumped me and pushed me down into the snow, and she held my face down in the snow and I thought I was gonna drown because I couldn’t breathe.”

A long, body-wracking shudder almost knocked the wind out of Upside-Down Cake. 

“Just when I thought I was gonna die, she let me up out of the snow. My eyes were full of stars and my head was hurting, and I couldn’t seem to suck in any wind. It was awful. She white-washed me just like she was gonna do to Stargazer. But she wasn’t done with me. She smashed me in the face with a big hunk of frozen slush and then she kicked me and I fell down and she started kicking me even more and she just screamed at me and then she was calm.” 

The pegasus filly sucked in a deep breath, and then said, “You know how she is. She was calm and not mad and she got quiet and while I was crying, she told me that we were going to frame you and say that you did this to me and she told me that if I did anything to mess this up, that she would catch me alone sometime… and you know how she is.” 

It was true: Lime Tart knew exactly how Treacle could be. Rage one moment, calm the next, and menacing when it suited her. She gave Upside-Down Cake a careful squeeze and then just held her. It felt good to hold her, felt right. The two fillies, a Tart and a Cake, consoled one another amidst a table laden with treats that also bore their namesakes. Lime Tart found that she had a strength that she didn’t know existed, because she wasn’t crying right now. More than anything else, she was relieved. 

It was like when her mother pulled a sliver out of her frog: the worst was over. 

“I’m so mad that I’m having hot-flashes—” 

“Take a deep breath, Dumpling.” 

“Blondie, no… I can’t… these hot flashes are burning me up inside. I’m gonna kill her—” 

“No, you’re not.” Blonde Roux’s voice was especially firm—almost as firm as a much-regifted fruitcake, given one year after another in an endless chain of generous benevolence. 

“I can’t believe this,” Mrs. Crumpledumpling said. “I can’t believe that Treacle would do that. Her parents are such good ponies. Good parents. How can this happen? Are they bad parents? Am I a bad parent? Is this my fault somehow? What do I do, Blondie?” 

“Calm down, quiet down, and let the girls have their moment,” was Blonde Roux’s quiet reply. 

“I stay so busy”—Mrs. Crumpledumpling was almost stammering now—“I had to skip work just to deal with this. My boss will be breathing down my neck now. I thought foals would be foals and that this would sort itself out. But this… this goes beyond the pale.” Almost panting, she began to frantically fan herself with her wing. 

“I don’t mean to say I told you so—” 

“But you’re going to anyway, Blondie.” 

“—but I told you that this would only get worse and this was not something they would grow out of.” Scowling, with intense furrows above her brows, Blonde Roux lifted up a teacup, took a sip, grimaced, and then had another slurp of hot tea. 

Lime Tart ignored the adults and focused on her newly-recovered friend. 

“Hearth’s Warming is important”—the precocious unicorn filly did her level best to sound grown-up about this—“not because we’re good ponies, but because we’re bad ponies. It’s all about getting what we don’t deserve. The Founders were jerks. The unicorns and the pegasus ponies bullied the earth ponies, and they were all mean to each other. None of them deserved a second chance, but they got it anyway. I don’t deserve a second chance, and you don’t either, but we’ve got one, so we’d better make the most of it.” 

“I don’t know how to be good—” 

“That’s no excuse, Upside-Down Cake. I don’t know how to be good either, but I’m still trying to save Hearth’s Warming. For two ponies now.” With a bit of a sharp but gentle yank, Lime Tart pulled her friend closer and made an expansive, sweeping gesture with her other foreleg. “Yeah, that’s gonna be my thing now. When I’m not looking at the stars, I’m gonna be saving Hearth’s Warming. Because somepony has gotta.” 

“Why are you doing this? I was mean to you and Stargazer. I said bad things. Awful things. Tribalist things, even. I don’t understand. Why be nice to me at all? Why be my friend?” 

“Because Stargazer was my friend, and is my friend, and I don’t deserve it.” For a short time, Lime Tart pressed her lips together and allowed herself a moment of self-pity. “He has to remember some of the awful things I did. You just don’t forget some things. Plus, I think that Twilight Sparkle would want me to save my friends if possible.” 

“Would you save Treacle?” 

“If she wanted to turn things around,” Lime Tart replied, “maybe.” 

Her barrel hitching, Upside-Down Cake began to cry. It was the sort of weakness that Treacle despised and would have never allowed. Though her legs were short and rather stubby, Lime Tart wrapped her friend in a protective, supportive embrace. Static crackled between them, and little Lime Tart worried that she would be stricken with The Frizz. It was hazardous, offering much-needed hugs, but this was a risk that she had no choice but to take. 

“I feel like a bad mother right now, I do—” 

“Oh, Dumpling, stop it. Oy vey. Give it a rest, will you?” Blonde Roux huffed, rolled her eyes, and put a plate of teacakes down in front of Mrs. Crumpledumpling. 

“Blondie, how do you do it?” 

“I dunno.” Shrugging her withers, Blonde Roux began to pull things out of the oven. “If you must know, I don’t focus on punishment. I suppose I try to encourage my little Bubelah to do good, and I only mention punishment if I absolutely must. You on the other hoof, you spend a lot of time threatening Downy. So much shouting and yelling, and yelling and shouting, and oy vey, what do you expect her to learn from you?” 

“Do I bully my daughter?” asked Mrs. Crumpledumpling. 

“You want me to answer that?” Turning about, Blonde Roux gave her friend a pointed, meaningful stare. “I try not to impose myself too much on others, which is why I haven’t said anything.” 

“Things have gotten out of hoof though.” The pegasus mare heaved a stricken sigh. “They’ve been out of hoof for a while. Maybe something should have been said sooner. Not that I’m blaming you, Blondie… I’m not. But Lime seems to have sorted herself out while Downy just got worse.” 

“You threaten, you shout, and you punish… but inconsistently—” 

“There’s just not enough time in the day, Blondie. What do you expect me to do?” 

“You need to sort that out, Dumpling.” 

“I guess I do.” Mrs. Crumpledumpling slumped over the table and then began to dab at her eyes with the primary knuckles of her wings. 

“Threatening, shouting, and punishing is no substitute for showing and teaching.” There was a crash as Blonde Roux tossed dirty baking pans into the sink and she sat down once more at the preparation table. “I’ll help you if I can. Just ask.” 

“Something has to be done with Treacle.” 

“Maybe so, Dumpling, but right now, you need to look after your own. Every minute you spend sorting out Treacle is a minute not spent with your daughter, and she needs you right now. That shiner looks like it hurts.” 

“Something has to be done though. She tried to frame your daughter, and hurt my daughter to do it.” 

“Easier said than done. Her father owns the trade market, which is the lifeblood of Rainbow Falls.” Blonde Roux’s voice lost all of its pleasant, characteristic warmth. “He’s a bit of a bully himself.” 

“What do we teach our foals?” asked Mrs. Crumpledumpling. “Things didn’t turn out as I intended. My boss, Mr. Lucre, he’s really good friends with Mr. Dough—” 

“Lucky Lucre isn’t friends at all with Dinero Dough.” These words were spat out by Blonde Roux, who rather looked an awful lot like an irate mother hen, even though she had no wings. “Lucky is a scrawny little pencil neck that does everything Dinero tells him to do. It’s more bullying, plain and simple. Dinero runs the Tax & Trade Office, not Lucky. Dumpling, as awful as it is, you have to recognise that there is a problem.” 

Lime Tart, who held her blubbering friend, heard quite an earful. She listened to every word said and gained awareness of a much-larger problem. The problem, from the sounds of it. It seemed as though the schoolyard only got bigger and more dangerous as one grew older. All kinds of new worries crept into her mind, and she had to struggle to contain them all. Growing up was scary and this just made everything worse in ways she couldn’t begin to conceive. 

Worst of all, she feared that Stargazer wouldn’t get a fair shake at life. 

Then, much to her own relief, she thought of her father. He liked to play with dolls. Her father turned out fine, at least she thought so—but what did she know, anyhow? She loved her father more than words could say. He was quiet, soft-spoken, gentle, he made the funniest of faces. When he gave her a bath, he never once got soap in her eyes, at least not that she could remember. Just a while ago, she’d heard him stutter from fear and stress, and she didn’t think she would ever forget that awful sound. 

Her father had been bullied… 

But he turned out fine, due mostly to her mother. 

With a slight turn of her head, Lime Tart glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. She was his confidence. Lime Tart found herself wondering what he was to her, because surely they completed each other somehow. Her mother wasn’t quite as careful as her father. When her mother bathed her, the sting of soap in the eye was a very real possibility. Her mother was loud sometimes—too loud—but she was also a lot of fun while her father was quiet. 

“I’m cancelling the Hearth’s Warming party for work,” Mrs. Crumpledumpling announced. “But I’ll still take my orders, Blondie. I think a nice quiet holiday at home is needed. With my daughter. If they want to have a bash, they can. And they can pay for it. I’m not covering the cost this year. I’ve done it every year and nopony else has ever offered to contribute anything. Nothing. Not a—” 

“Bupkis,” said Blonde Roux. 

“Yeah that. Bupkis.” Glowering, Mrs. Crumpledumpling hunched over her steaming teacup. 

“We just sold out of crackers,” Pigeon Pie shouted from the lobby. 

“Strong cracker sales are a sure sign somepony is cutting them some cheese,” Blonde Roux hollered back at her husband. 

This exchange (or some variation thereof) was almost a daily occurrence and it brought Lime Tart some much-needed comfort. Upside-Down Cake managed a half-hearted giggle, even as her many tears fell. As for Mrs. Crumpledumpling, she seemed far too upset to be amused, and her scowl intensified in all the worst ways. Lime Tart allowed herself to feel a little better, because if her parents could crack horrible jokes, then surely things were on an upswing. 

“Downy, how does a nice holiday at home sound? No parties. No guests. No company. Just us. We can play board games and drink cocoa. Would you like that?” 

When Upside-Down Cake responded, her voice was especially raspy. “I’d like that a lot, Mom.” 

“I’m sorry, Downy.” 

“For what, Mom?” 

“For shouting. For being mean. For threatening to take away Hearth’s Warming. Look at you, Downy. You have that shiner. I should be smothering you like a chick in a nest. What sort of mother am I? And your father… sheesh… your father. When I tell him that there will be no parties at home this year, he’s going to… well, I expect lots of swearing and shouting and maybe even some fighting. I’m sorry, Downy.” 

“Troubles at home, Dumpling?” asked Blonde Roux. 

“Hubby depends on these parties to help him climb the social ladder. It’s part of his strategy to get promoted at work. Things are stressful right now. The bank has been going through some aggressive downsizing. I’m frustrated with my own job and sometimes, Hubby and I bang heads together.”

“Sounds rough, Dumpling.” 

“It is, Blondie. It is.” 
> A return to the boneyard
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Am I in trouble?” At the moment, this was the only question that mattered, and Lime Tart asked it with great hesitation, as if by mentioning it she might invite catastrophe. She had to go and be with Stargazer in a short while, and she feared that she might not be allowed to go. It was so important to go—he needed her, and truth be told, she craved the experience, as it defined her as a good pony. 

Right now, the distinction between good and bad seemed a bit blurry. 

Before her mother could respond, Lime Tart said, “I know I should’ve told you.” 

“But you didn’t,” her mother replied. 

The unicorn filly nodded. “Yep. I didn’t do that.” She thought about making excuses, but then thought better of it. There was no sense in making things worse by blabbing out a bunch of things that her mother might use against her. For now, at least for the moment, silence was her ally. Her mother knew what had happened, and why. Perhaps her mother would be fair. Yes, there seemed to be a good chance of that, especially after this morning when she and her mother connected. 

“It seems to me that there’s some trust issues,” Blonde Roux said to her daughter. “That makes sense. I had to come down on you pretty hard during your bad spell. Bubelah, there is a big difference between getting into trouble and having trouble happen to you. When troubles happen to you, you always come to me. No matter what. I’m on your side.” 

“He won’t fight back,” Lime Tart said to her mother, hoping that she might explain things. “Stargazer never fights back. No matter how I picked on him, or what I did to him, he never fought back. I couldn’t let something happen… not in the cemetery. She was gonna hurt him. Bad. What should I have done?” 

“Bubelah, you did the right thing. But you did the wrong thing not telling me.” 

Lime Tart didn’t dare say anything. Right now felt precarious. Dangerous. She was somewhat relieved that her mother had said that she’d done right, but she’d also done something wrong—and she couldn’t deny that it was wrong. Making excuses or whining about it probably wouldn’t help matters. Next time, if something like this happened, she would tell her mother about it. But that was next time. For now, the spectre of punishment loomed like a dark shadow. 

“I’m scared, Bubelah.” 

“You’re scared?” This greatly puzzled Lime Tart, who failed to understand her mother’s fear. “About what?” 

“I’m worried that if we tussle about this, if I punish you, you won’t come to me in the future for help if you need it.” With a turn of her head, Blonde Roux cast her distant gaze upon the pile of pots and pans in the sink. “My mother warned me about this… about a time when I could be your mother or I could be your friend. This feels like that time. As your mother, as a unicorn, it is my duty to make sure you know certain things.” 

“Other ponies are scared of our magic.” 

“Yes, Bubelah. And jealous. A single act done in anger can leave behind a lifetime of suspicion, fear, and doubt. We have to hold back, even when it feels very unfair.” Ears sagging, she prepared to wash dishes and clean up the kitchen, which was a real mess. “As your friend, I am proud of you for what you did. Treacle needed a good scare. She’s a strong one, that filly. Too strong. One of these days, somepony is going to get hurt. Maybe now that she’s had a good scare, that won’t happen, but I doubt it.” 

Lime Tart certainly didn’t expect this. Not at all. She didn’t expect this much complexity about the issue. Her mother was proud—said so even—and even though a bad thing had been done, something good might potentially come out of it. Was that the lesson? What was she supposed to learn from this? Clearly, she had some thinking to do. And maybe a chat with her friend because he was smarter than her about stuff like this. 

“Earth ponies are strong, and that’s fine. Pegasus ponies fly, and we’re fine with that. Unicorns and magic?” The older unicorn sighed and looked over at the younger. “You’ll find that other ponies aren’t so accepting of what makes us ‘us’, Bubelah. We ponies are fearful of what we don’t understand, and magic is not understood. You used your magic to deal with an angry simpleton. There’s going to be repercussions. Or maybe there won’t be. Maybe things will work out. Maybe Treacle is so deserving that other ponies will look past this. No matter what happens, there’s a good chance that life won’t be the same, Bubelah.” 

“So I’m in trouble, probably, but not with you?” 

“So smart. So smart. What did I do to get such a smart daughter? A curse and a blessing. Oy vey, this kitchen, it’s a mess. Bubelah, it is almost one o’clock. There’s some cookies in waxed paper on the table, all tied up with twine. Take those with you. Do good. Keep your head held high, Bubelah.” 

“Mom… thanks.” 

“I honestly don’t know what my own mother would want me to do in this situation,” Blonde Roux remarked as she turned both faucets to get hot water flowing. “Would she be my mother, or my friend? The one Hearth’s Warming when I really could have used her advice, fate conspires to keep us apart. Oy vey! This kitchen isn’t going to clean itself. We still have more baking to do. Ugh, so much work to make a miracle happen.” 



 

Lime Tart was barely out the back door when her father’s shadow fell over her. She recognised the swoop, that distinctive curve of his mane. When she turned around, she saw that he was wearing his hat, scarf, and vest. It wasn’t hard to figure things out—he was coming with her, and this posed as a problem. Stargazer’s grief was private, and she wasn’t sure how he might feel about intruders. Even worse, she doubted that he would say anything even if this bothered him. 

“Closed up early,” her father said while he pranced about in the freshly fallen snow. “We ran out of crackers, so it was time to close. No more disappointed customers whining about crackers. We sell a lot of crackers, Tarty. Your mom needs a factory kitchen so we can be rich.” 

Then, without warning, he began to fumble around in an attempt to fix her blanket coat collar. With his wings out, shielding and obscuring the view, he landed a surprise smooch right on her cold snoot. She giggled, was embarrassed, and would have ran away, but at the moment, she just didn’t feel like it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t do anything embarrassing in front of Stargazer, because that would be, well, whatever was beyond super-embarrassing. 

“Sorry, Tarty. I’m coming with you. As your father, it is my job to make your life awkward under the guise of keeping you safe. So I’m coming on your date—” 

“Daddy, no!” she squeaked. “It’s not a date. We’re not dating. That’s gross. Don’t say that.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s a relief.” He stood up, gave his wings a shake to get the snow off of them, and then was visibly dismayed when more flakes replaced those shaken off. “Lead the way, Tarty.” 

What choice did she have? In a way, she was relieved that her father was tagging along. Stargazer needed a father, and she could share hers. At the moment, she had all manner of worries, fears, and doubts. Maybe her father could help sort those out. A cold wind blew and whipped her mane away from her face while it also tugged upon her tail. 

“We meet up at Tradeway Lane and Farmer’s Hedge Row Street,” she said to her father. “He’ll be waiting. Or we’ll be waiting. Depends on who gets there first.” 

“Sounds a plan, Tarty. Let’s go.” 



 

When she saw Stargazer, her heart skipped several beats. He stood beneath the black wrought iron street lamp, wearing his too-small coat that was coming apart at the seams. A bright blue knitted cap with a royal purple pom-pom covered his ears; it looked brand new and Lime Tart found herself thankful for the kindness of others. Somepony had given him a hat, but he still needed a new coat, and maybe a scarf. 

“Star,” she breathlessly said as she drew near. “You have a new hat!” 

“Mrs. Beryl gave it to me when she stopped by for tea,” he replied. “It’s incredibly warm. I’m happy to have it.” 

“It matches your colours,” Lime Tart said as she bounded through the snow, which crunched underhoof. “Oh, that’s so sweet. Somepony did something nice for you.” Almost breathless, she halted when she reached him, and then remembered her father was right behind her. Awkward. 

“Mister Pie,” Stargazer said. 

“Stargazer… how are you doing? Have you been reading those scary books?” 

The colt nodded, but had nothing to say. 

“That story that you read to Tarty—”

“Daddy, no!” 

“—it scared her so bad—”

Flustered, Lime Tart began to prance in place as she repeated her previous protest, “Daddy, no!” 

“—that she couldn’t sleep in her own bed like a big filly—” 

“A filly could just die of embarrassment, you know!” 

“—she came into our room at just a little past eleven—”

Lower lip protruding, Lime Tart fumed in her father’s general direction. 

“—and she begged her mother to let her sleep in our bed. Just what did you read to her, anyhow?” 

“Oh, f—” 

“Tarty!” 

“—arts.” 

“Oh good, you learned from the last time you said that word, young lady.” 

When Stargazer began to chuckle, Lime Tart hated him just a little bit for laughing at her misfortune, but she was also grateful to hear the sounds of his happiness. It wasn’t often that one got a chance to hear it, so it was a rare, treasured thing that was truly special. Why, Stargazer was almost smiling. He had to be in high spirits after getting a new hat. But his sorry coat bothered her, and Lime Tart desperately wanted to do something about it. 

She put it on her Hearth’s Warming Miracle checklist. 

“There’s a lot of snow,” her father said matter-of-factly. “I mean, it is really coming down.” 

“And nopony clears the road to the cemetery,” Stargazer said to Pigeon Pie. “The snow will be deeper than I am tall.” 

“And you go out there every day, no matter how much snow there is?” asked Pigeon Pie. 

“Yep.” The earth pony colt nodded at the pegasus. 

Lime Tart heard the concern in her father’s voice when he asked, “Just how far is that?” 

“It’s about three miles,” was Stargazer’s response. “When they planned the city, they placed the cemetery far enough out that the city could expand without having to move the graveyard. Rainbow Falls was an experiment in city planning.” 

“Just how do you know this stuff, Stargazer?” Pigeon Pie asked while he held his wing over the colt’s head to keep the snow at bay. 

“I read my father’s books,” the colt replied. “If I read what he read, I can know what he knew, and that makes everything hurt a little less.” 

“Well, Stargazer, how about we fly instead of a long walk, trudging through snow and slush?” Pigeon Pie was now dusted with quite a bit of snow because he stood still, and the brilliant white stood out in sharp contrast against his sooty grey-blue and blue-grey. “In fact, how about I fly you out there every day, because walking six miles back and forth is nuts in this sort of weather.” 

“This is because of what happened.” Squinting a bit, Stargazer peered up at Pigeon Pie, and Lime Tart felt her heart flutter in a weird way. “Is Lime in trouble?” 

“What? No. At least I don’t think so. She better not be.” Pigeon Pie snorted, waved his wings about, and made a futile effort to shoo the snow away. “It never snowed in Applewood. How do ponies live in this stuff? It gets everywhere!” 

Unable to stop herself, Lime Tart giggled because of her father’s current bit of silliness. 

While her father made a valiant effort to shoo the swirling flakes of snow away, Lime Tart stuck her tongue out so that she might catch a few of the falling fluffy flakes. Most of the snowflakes were fine, but every now and then, due to the nature of the rainbows that the town was named after, one might find an extraordinarily spicy snowflake on one’s tongue. 

“Do we have to fly?” asked Stargazer. 

Pigeon Pie was busy trying to swat and swipe at snowflakes with his wings, and it took him a moment before he replied, “Yes. That would be for the best, I think.” 

“Not too high?” 

“Afraid of heights, Stargazer?” 

“No,” the colt replied. “Not at all. I just don’t like falling and that sudden splat at the end.” 

“Ew.” Disturbed by the sudden mental image of a just-splatted Stargazer, Lime Tart shivered. 

“Falling scares me,” the colt confessed. “Sometimes, I’ll be peeping through the telescope, and I’ll get all dizzy and lightheaded, and I have this scary bit of time where I worry about falling into space.” 

“He does,” Lime Tart said to her father. “I’ve been there when it happens. He gets all sweaty and gross.” 

“I do not.” 

“You do too.” 

“Do not.” 

“Do too.” 

“Do not.” 

“Do too.” 

“Do not, infinity.” 

“Do too, infinity plus eleven!” 

“Are you two always like this?” asked Pigeon Pie, who interrupted the exchange. 

To which Stargazer replied, “Yes.” 

While at the same time, Lime Tart said, “No.” 

“I get the feeling I should hang out with you foals more often.” 

“Really?” Stargazer’s response was unusually animated and Lime Tart took note. 

“Would you like for me to spend more time with you and Tarty?” 

“If you would have said ‘Lime’ it would have rhymed,” the colt replied. 

This gave Pigeon Pie reason to pause, and after a moment lost in thought, he nodded and then said, “So it would have. Alright then, all aboard. I promise to keep it low and slow, just off the ground. If you do fall, and I’m not saying that you will, but if you do, you’ll fall into the deep snow and won’t get hurt. 

“You want to hang out with me?” asked Stargazer. “Even though I’m weird?” 

“I need to show you my doll collection, kid.” At this moment, Pigeon Pie puffed out with an impressive display of pegasus pride. “Rainbow Falls is full of a bunch of squares. Weird is just a different state of normal, kid. You’re not weird, you’re just different. In another place, you’d be an academic and the ponies of Rainbow Falls would be dimwitted dullards.” 

“My father was weird.” Stargazer seemed impossibly solemn and his large eyes were soulful. 

“Tell me all about him while we fly to the cemetery.” Annoyed, Pigeon Pie still swatted and slashed with his wings at the flakes falling all around him. “Spring can’t come soon enough!” 



 

The cemetery was buried in snow like a grave covered in dirt. Not a headstone was visible and no traces remained of their previous visit. Everything was clean, white, and pristine. When Pigeon Pie landed, the snow was almost belly deep for him, and Lime Tart knew that when she lept off her father’s back, she would be in over head. More snow swirled, as if winter attempted to bury those lost. 

Stargazer wasted no time; he wiggled free of Lime Tart’s embrace, slipped off of Pigeon Pie’s back, and then vanished into the loose powder. Just like that, he was gone, save for the royal purple pom-pom on his hat, which was still visible. There was a muffled cry from Stargazer, and then Pigeon Pie began to dig the colt out with his wings. 

While all of this happened, Lime Tart was stricken with a terrible, horrible, awful realisation: as winter progressed, and more snow fell, these daily trips to the cemetery would become impossible. Stargazer was literally in over his head, and if she and he had come here on their own, they would have struggled every inch of the way. She was glad that her father had come. Maybe it was more than keeping her safe from Treacle, maybe he knew. Her father was pretty smart after all. 

She was smart, too, and chose to stay upon her father’s back. 

A hard wind blew; it was cold, bitter, and caused stinging tears to blur Lime Tart’s vision. The creeping grey advanced and threatened to blot out what little sunshine there was. What if the storm had blown in and she and Stargazer were caught in it? Though she kept her thoughts to herself, she now had some very real worries and understood that this was dangerous. Did her parents think her brave? For surely they had to be aware of these dangers, all the bad things that might happen. How did her parents even let her go out at all without worrying and panicking? She sympathised with her parents now, and had a glimmer of insight into what they endured. 

Dragged out of the snow, Stargazer clambered up onto Pigeon Pie’s back, and got snow everywhere. Lime Tart tried to dust him off, but it did no good. Her attempt to sweep away the snow almost pushed the colt right off her father’s back and into the devouring white. He shivered, he coughed, and then Stargazer returned to his usual stoic state of being. 

“I thought it’d be this bad,” Pigeon Pie said to nopony in particular. The slicked back swoop of his mane was messy now, dusted with flakes and windblown. His feathers were dishevelled from digging in the snow to rescue Stargazer. Yet, he still radiated a sort of cool defiance, and stood unflinching in the wind. “Where’s this grave at? I can’t tell where anything is. I hope I don’t bang my legs on a tombstone.” 

Stargazer shivered, shuddered, and then asked, “I have to say goodbye, don’t I?” 

“Yeah kid, I’m sorry. I really am.” 

“I said it once. I don’t know if I can do it again.” 

It wasn’t just the fierce wind that caused Lime Tart’s eyes to flood with tears. 

“Why can’t the winter just leave me alone?” asked Stargazer. “It’s like I can’t have my father at all. Why is life so unfair?”

“I’m sorry, kid. This is just how it is. Come spring thaw, we’ll come to pay a visit, but from the looks of things, we might not make it back for a while.” 

“It’s over there, in that corner.” Sniffling, Stargazer pointed with his hoof. “I know just where it is.” 

Unable to bear it, Lime Tart buried her face into the back of Stargazer’s neck, and held him. He was cold to the touch and his thin, tattered coat did nothing to stop the cold from piercing his skin. She felt him lean back into her, and she tried to wrap some of her blanket coat around him, but it was awkward and didn’t quite work out as she had planned—which is to say it really didn’t work out at all. 

“First the manticore, and now winter,” the dejected colt murmured. “I hate winter, and I hate Hearth’s Warming.” 

The words were like an icicle driven though Lime Tart’s tender heart, but she said nothing. Right now, words would do no good. Instead, she squeezed him, and hoped that her father wouldn’t break a leg trying to navigate through the unseen, hidden dangers of tombstones hidden in the snow. If something did happen to her father, they might end up stuck out here, and that would be terrible beyond words. Of all the awful things that could happen, that would be just about the worst. 

“Over here.” 

Pigeon Pie trudged through the fine powder and Lime Tart wondered if her father’s legs were freezing. They might be. Before she could think about it too much, Stargazer flung himself into the snow once more. Almost holding her breath, Lime Tart knew what she had to do, even though she really, really didn’t want to do it. Shivering in anticipation, she slid off of her father’s back and then was immediately buried in the snow. 

The world was white and she could see nothing, but she could feel Stargazer thrashing about in the snow somewhere off to her left. Taking careful aim, she let go a pulse of magic directly in front of her, and much to her satisfaction a huge amount of snow was blasted away. A moment was spent where she reveled in her own power, and she had herself a look around. The snow that she had blasted swirled in the wind and already it fell back down. 

It was important to be careful. Tongue out, she zapped the offending fluffy white flakes and caused a second explosion of snow. A surprising amount of the loose powder was dislodged and was blown elsewhere by the wind. Stargazer was digging, his front legs pumping, and his hind legs kicking snow away. His tail rose from from his exposed rump like a flag, and Lime Tart was thankful that she hadn’t explodenated her best friend, because that would ruin Hearth’s Warming. 

Again, she took careful aim… and then… pew-pew! 

Each blast excavated a considerable amount of snow and shoved it elsewhere. 



 

The headstone marker was free of snow at last and Lime Tart stood close by, huffing and puffing. She watched as Stargazer stood with his hoof firmly planted on the small stone marker, which lay on the ground. It wasn’t much of a marker at all, and if she somehow had money, she would get Stargazer a proper standing tombstone for his father’s grave. Maybe it would make him happy. If it didn’t make him happy, at least he could mope near a proper upright tombstone. 

Pigeon Pie stood over the two foals with his wings spread wide, and used them as makeshift umbrellas. Not that it did much good; the wind was really starting to blow now, and the grey had advanced considerably closer. Lime Tart, who had a long morning of growing up, now knew that she valued Stargazer’s happiness over her own. What that meant, she didn’t know, but she knew it was important. It had to be important. Perhaps she might write a letter to Princess Twilight Sparkle, and maybe, just maybe, the princess would write back in return. 

“I don’t wanna say goodbye,” the colt whined. “Never wanted to say it then, and I don’t wanna say it now.” 

Lime Tart’s father stepped closer, patted the forlorn colt atop his head, and said, “I know how you feel, kid. I do. I’m not just saying that. My mom… she just disappeared one day. I don’t know what happened to her, but she’s gone. Then my dad left. Maybe you and I… maybe you and I should spend a little time together, Stargazer. There’s a lot of hurt and anger that comes with this.” 

Turning away, the earth pony colt nodded. “I’m almost always angry and I just hold it in.” 

“Well,” Pigeon Pie said, “that won’t do. I did that too, and it caused me problems. It won’t help nothing. Won’t fix nothing. And there isn’t anything that will help this except to wait it out… but it never really goes away. I don’t really miss my father much, he and I didn’t get along, but I miss my mother something awful. Every year around this time, it gets real hard for me, and I don’t know what I’d do without Blonde Roux. She carries me through somehow.” 

“So you never got over it?” asked Stargazer. 

“Over it?” Pigeon Pie shook some snow off of his wings, licked more snow from his lips, and flicked his ears to free them from the fluffy white buildup. “Kid, you don’t get over something like this. There is no ‘over’. Natural death is one thing… ponies grow old and die. But when somepony you love is taken from you… just taken… because life is being unfair, there’s no getting over that. It doesn’t go away. You might think that you’re over it, but then something happens. You smell something, or you see something, or you hear a song, and then you’re right back to not being over it. At least, that’s how it is for me. I think of my mother all the time. She loved Hearth’s Warming… loved it. She was one of those ponies who was downright annoying about Hearth’s Warming and ugly sweaters and cheesy music… and… and what I wouldn’t give to have her back. I’d wear whatever ugly sweater she gave me.” 

“So this is normal?” 

“Yeah, it is. Sorry kid.” 

“That makes me feel better.” 

“Does it?” Pigeon Pie seemed quite surprised by this revelation. 

“It does. Thank you. I don’t know what normal is anymore. There’s only my mother… and I think she tells me what she thinks I want to hear to make me feel better.” 

“Well, Stargazer, that’s kind of what a mother is supposed to do… make her son feel better.” 

“But I get mad about it. So mad that I want to scream at her. But I never do. I just hold it all in.” 

“Well, f—” 

“Daddy! No! You’re the one that I learned that word from!” 

“—arts.” Now thoroughly irked, Pigeon Pie did nothing to hide his scowl. “Kid, you and I, we should have talked sooner.” 

“We’ve talked. A lot.” 

“No, no… I mean, about this.” There was a monumental struggle taking place, and Lime Tart stood watching her father as it happened. “I guess it just never came up. Or it wasn’t the right time. Or maybe I was selfish, and stupid, and didn’t want to think about my mom, so I didn’t bring it up. I... don’t even know. But from here on out, you and I, we’re going to have some talks. Maybe sort some of this out. Somepony has gotta do something, and I suppose it’s gotta be me.” 

“Did somepony help you?” asked Stargazer. 

“Well, yeah, actually.” A soft prolonged sigh escaped Pigeon Pie, who made his best effort to keep the annoying snowflakes away from the two foals. “Blonde Roux’s parents. They took me in. Kept the social workers from taking me away, because it would’ve broken Blonde’s heart. They gave me a home. Paid for a counselor… a therapist. I was so embarrassed to get help… thought it made me weak. I was already a weakling, and a sissy, and having to see a head shrinker just made everything feel so much worse.” 

“Do I need a therapist?” There was such intensity and emotion in Stargazer’s eyes, and his ears quivered in anticipation of an answer. 

“Yeah. Probably. Maybe. Look, I don’t know. But there are no therapists in Rainbow Falls. We’re a small town in the middle of a big wide expanse of nothing. Welcome to Dullsville, population, us.” 

All of this was quite overwhelming to Lime Tart, who’d never seen her father act quite like this. Or Stargazer for that matter. They’d connected in some way that she couldn’t quite understand. A connection that she herself could not make. She felt something about all of this, a whole lot of somethings, but she had no clue what all these new feelings were. 

“Blonde Roux begged her parents to help me. She said you don’t throw out a perfectly good Pie. Her father laughed. I somehow managed to laugh. Blonde’s mother ‘oy veyed’ a whole bunch.” He fell silent, his ears fell, and Pigeon Pie shook his head from side to side. “I think the time has come to pay it forward.” 

Her father could fly. He could fly and go a long way and maybe he could carry Stargazer to see a therapist someplace else. A plan was already forming in Lime Tart’s mind, but she maintained her silence in favour of devious scheming. She thought of the expense, but was not discouraged; a way would be found somehow. There had to be a way. She refused to believe that this was impossible. It was Hearth’s Warming, the season of miracles—and she was Hearth’s Warming’s Helper, who would nudge those miracles along if they got stuck. 

With a shuddery sigh, Stargazer looked down at the gravemarker beneath his hoof. The colt sniffled, his ears twitched as snow fell, and his tail swatted at flakes as if they were flies. “Goodbye, Dad. I was hoping to come out here for Hearth’s Warming… I had plans… but I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I feel so alone now. It’s hard. I wish I knew what to say.” 

It took all of her bravery, but Lime Tart dared to intrude upon this private, vulnerable moment. She approached, brushed up against Stargazer’s side, and then leaned against him. “You’re not alone.” 

“It feels that way though,” he said in return. “How do I explain it? It’s like… there’s this wall made of sadness and anger, and every day, it just gets taller, and thicker, and it’s already past the point where I don’t know if I can overcome it. The wall is so huge, and I’m so small.” 

“Well, you just hang on in there,” she said to him, fully aware of how her father listened. “We’ll get you out. I’ll get an army if I hafta. Whatever it takes. But you hold on. Don’t give up. We’ll tear that wall down. I’ll tear it down.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

At that moment, Lime Tart’s heart blazed with some great internal fire, a raging inferno of impossible heat. But it wasn’t like her moment of hot temper, no. She felt no need to roll in the snow to cool herself off. Why, she was perfectly content to burn from this fire, and she imagined that this must be what Hearthfire felt like. Whatever chill the winter had to offer, whatever cold indifference that life had to give, she knew that she could endure if she could just keep this fire in her heart burning. 

And she would. 

She would. 

“Goodbye, Dad… I guess I’ll see you come spring.” 
> A bargain, struck
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a struggle for Pigeon Pie to close the door behind him. Outside, the storm was picking up, the sort of storm that the old-timers called a ‘Windigo Squall.’ High winds, heavy snow, and a serious drop in temperatures. Winter was truly here, the season of deep-freeze was upon them. Which was a cause for alarm for Lime Tart, who had just returned home with her father after they’d dropped Stargazer off at home. 

“Honey, we need to talk. Can you come out here?” 

A second later, Blonde Roux poked her head out of the kitchen door and into the now-empty bakery lobby. She was covered in flour, or maybe powdered sugar, it was hard to tell. Pigeon Pie shook snow from himself and it fell to the tile floor, where it began to melt. A mess was sure to be made, but messes happened. Lime Tart didn’t care about messes, at least not right now; she was far more concerned by what she and her father had discovered. 

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong? There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” 

“Rosie Ribbon has hardly any firewood at all and—” 

“Noble Fir gave me his word that he’d keep her supplied in firewood in exchange for baked goods!” Snorting and chuffing like a locomotive, Blonde Roux burst completely through the door and then stood there with her sides heaving. “That no good, good for nothing, stingy, foul-smelling… I’m gonna give him an earful when I see him next!” 

“He’s giving her firewood,” Pigeon Pie said to his wife while Lime Tart listened. “Just not very much of it. From the looks of things, it is the scraps that he can’t sell.” 

With each snort, Blonde Roux’s face reddened, and her ears turned an almost unnatural shade of purple. Lime Tart began to back away, because she’d seen her mother get this mad before, and this was not good. Not at all. Already, her mother was trembling and her eyes had turned bloodshot. It was just about time to go and duck under a table, or perhaps go and hide in the laundry room, because there was about to be shouting. 

“The house is freezing and there’s frost on the windows.” A long sigh happened, and then Pigeon Pie hung his head. “There’s no decorations. It looks like a lot of ponies didn’t keep their promises.” 

Something even worse than shouting happened: Blonde Roux was silent. 

This was terrifying. Lime Tart had never seen her mother this way. She began to back away, uncertain of what might happen. Her mother’s horn was sparking and Lime Tart could hear the awful sound of teeth being ground together. Both of her parents seemed nothing alike right now; her father was calm and solemn, while her mother was hot fury. 

“She has food. At least that promise was kept.” Flexing his wings, Pigeon Pie began to flap a bit to shake the slushy bits from his wings. “Stargazer needs a new coat. The one he has is nothing but tatters. Storm or no, I’m going back out to go shopping. Tarty is right. We have to save Hearth’s Warming.” 

“I go through all this trouble to organise everypony so that Rosie’s needs can be provided for and all these promises are made and I cut a little off the tabs and even give extra to those who say they’ll help her out, and I keep getting disappointed by how little is done. And now… now… now that it is the holidays… the time when we’re supposed to give… it seems everypony has gone stingy. What a bunch of miserly skinflints. Why, I oughta bake turds into their brownies.” 

“Mama, no.” Startled by the sound of her own voice, Lime Tart found it difficult to believe that she’d just blurted that out. 

“I have a few last things to take care of in the kitchen,” Blonde Roux said. “Pigie, make a list of everything we need. The outdoor market will be closed no doubt, so we’ll need to go to the Bargain Barn and Fleabag’s Fineries.” 

“I’ve heard that Fleabag has high prices—” 

“He’ll be open, he has nice things, and he’ll cut me a deal,” Blonde Roux said to her husband. “I bake him bone-shaped biscuits and crackers. He likes the extra effort I put in. Plus, he and I have been talking business.” 

“You have?” Pigeon Pie seemed quite surprised by what his wife had said. 

“Nothing formal. Nothing serious, not yet. We just tossed some ideas back and forth. You know I wouldn’t do serious business discussions without you. I was going to tell you after the holidays, when the rush was over and we could breathe again.” 

The sudden fury was gone, it seemed, and Lime Tart wondered where it went. She watched her parents, thankful for them, and grateful for all she had. Because of her parents, she had the means to help her friend, and she couldn’t imagine how frustrating it might be if she was unable to do anything at all. While she stood there, thoughtful, her father strode forward, wrapped his wings around her mother’s neck, hauled her in, and smooched her right on the lips. 

But he didn’t pull away, no. Her mother squirmed, her hooves tapped against the floor, and the kiss turned into something so steamy that Lime Tart felt she shouldn’t be watching, but she did anyway. The love of her parents was something to celebrate, not be grossed out about, but she was still pretty icked out about it anyway. Being affectionate was certainly better than fighting, and her parents were still very much in love—at least, it looked an awful lot like love to Lime Tart’s eyes, though she would be the first to admit that she didn’t really know what love was. 

She was the result of her parents love, and little Lime Tart wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

Her father pulled away and with her mother left breathless, he said, “I’m going to the garage to get our cart ready. We need to get a tree, too.” 

“You know how to make a mare feel better,” Blonde Roux said to her husband. “Oy vey, there’s so much to do. So much to bake. It’s going to be a late night to get everything done. I need a glass of milk.” And without further ado, she retreated into the kitchen. 

Now, there was nothing left to do but wait. It had been a long day, and though it wasn’t late, the fact that it was now dark outside made it feel much later than it actually was. Lime Tart had a look out the window and she watched the snow as it melted against the glass. A thunderous belch could be heard from the kitchen, and the precocious filly allowed herself a bit of a giggle. 

Because of her parents, everything was going to be fine. 



 

The Bargain Barn was packed with ponies, some of which came in to get out of the cold, and others who had come for actual last-minute shopping. Lime Tart sat on her mother’s back, because she didn’t want to get trampled underhoof. Much to her mother’s surprise, the shelves were still full with all manner of holiday-related stuff. They were going to get a tree, so they needed decorations, lights, and all those little festive things that set the mood. Her mother snatched a box of candles off the shelf and those went into the shopping cart. 

Candles were practical if the lights went out. 

“Do you think that Upside-Down Cake’s parents will get divorced?” asked Lime Tart. 

She felt her mother shudder beneath her. 

“What sort of question is that, Bubelah?” 

“Well, her parents are fighting… I heard them fighting when I stayed over there for a sleepover.” 

“Well, I would hope that they don’t get divorced. Things are bad enough for Downy as it is.” Using her magic, Blonde Roux fetched a box of tinsel, some frosted glass orbs, and some little wooden nutcracker ornaments. “Sometimes, couples bicker. Your father and I even bicker—” 

“And then we make up,” Pigeon Pie interjected with a wink. 

“Yeah. We don’t go to sleep angry. We might go to bed angry, but we never go to sleep angry.” 

“Oh, yuck.” Thoroughly disgusted, Lime Tart did not want to think about what her parents might do beyond kissing. Not that she knew, not exactly, but she had an idea, and that idea was absolutely disgusting. 

“I hate to even ask, but do you know what they were fighting about, Bubelah? Not for the sake of gossip, no no no… but if there is something that I can do to help them, I will. But it helps to know.” 

“Well, Mom”—uncertain of what to do or how to answer, Lime Tart had to think about it for a brief time—“they can’t afford their house. I know that from listening. If either of them loses their job, they’re in trouble. They can barely afford their house payment and Mrs. Crumpledumpling hollered at her husband for taking out loans, and he got mad and told her off and said he had no choice, and I sorta stopped listening because hearing it made me feel bad.” 

“Oh my… that’s sort of what I expected. They’re hanging by a thread.” Clucking her tongue, Blonde Roux shook her head from side to side, and then paused to look at some boxed Hearth’s Warming decorations on a shelf. 

“Mom, are we poor? Or in trouble at all?” she asked. 

“Tarty, we’re fine. You have nothing to worry about.” Her father’s voice was reassuring beyond measure. “We live within our means and don’t engage in conspicuous consumption. Well, mostly. Some of my dolls are kind of expensive.” 

“What’s conspicuous consumption?” 

“It’s where you buy useless junk with a fat price tag so you can show it off and let other ponies know how rich you are.” She heard her mother snort and they continued down the jam-packed aisle at a snail’s pace. “Oh, festive marshmallows in white and blue.” 

“Why are holiday marshmallows in white and blue, Mom?” 

“The Royal Pony Sisters, Bubelah,” her mother was quick to say. “White and blue. Just like Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.” 

“What about Princess Twilight?” 

“She hasn’t been a princess very long,” her father replied. “And she’s not a real alicorn. Not like the Royal Pony Sisters. She was made one. Given wings. We’ll have to see how she is accepted by the ponies of Equestria.” 

“Well”—Lime Tart stretched out this word to extraordinary length—“I like her. Meeting her was nice. She was nice. Princess Twilight helped me out with my friendship problem. And she was really, really nice to Stargazer, and she tried to make him feel better, and she had a long talk with me about empathy.” 

“For myself, I like my rulers a little older and a little wiser… but I think Princess Twilight will get older and wiser soon enough. She’s bound to have a rough go of things.” Using her magic, Blonde Roux dumped about a half-a-dozen bags of holiday marshmallows into the shopping cart. “Now, my mother, she can’t stand Twilight or Cadance. She feels they’re unnatural. I don’t understand my mother’s thinking, but I try to be respectful.” 

“Granana doesn’t like the new princesses?” 

“No, she doesn’t, Bubelah. Try not to say anything about it when you see her. If you do, she might talk your ear off and you’d look funny with no ears.” 

“Granana doesn’t like Princess Luna, either and—” 

“My mother grew up during a time where there was no Princess Luna. Not even a memory of her. There was only Princess Celestia, the Perfect Princess. She who commands the sun and moon, the sky and tides. My mother doesn’t like change.” 

“Which is funny, given how she changes colour on a whim,” Pigeon Pie remarked after his wife interrupted him. “Oh, candy canes and peppermint sticks.” 

Without slowing down, Blonde Roux dutifully grabbed the holiday treats and dumped them into the cart atop the marshmallows. The world that Lime Tart knew was a different world than her parents had grown up in. She was smart enough to know this, but she didn’t feel that she was smart enough to truly sort out how or why it mattered. 

“Oh, holiday cheeses in festive wax casings.” Pigeon Pie paused, stepped aside to allow a mare to pass, and then he stood in front of the shelf where the cheeses were all stacked. “These will be good with crackers. And look, with the big cheese on the bottom, and the little cheese on the top, and all the sizes in the middle, it looks like a Hearth’s Warming tree.” 

“So it does,” Blonde Roux said while she yanked it off the shelf and gently placed it into the cart. 



 

Fleabag’s Fineries had far fewer shoppers—but more than Lime Tart anticipated. Rainbow Falls was a town of trade, a booming city of traders and merchants, whatever that meant, but almost all of them were ponies. Except for Fleabag. Who wasn’t a pony at all, but a diamond dog. An old, wizened, wrinkled, droopy diamond dog who rather smelled like, well, wet dog. He was stooped over, his front paws almost reached the floor, one paw-finger was missing from his right paw, and his tail had a crooked angle to it where it had been broken. 

“Fleabag! How have you been? You look stiff. How is your back? Are you hurting?” Blonde Roux wasted no time and invaded the old dog’s space. “Maybe you should sit down. You need to sit down.” 

“I’ll live,” the old dog replied in a raspy voice. “Mrs. Roux, what can I do for you?” Reaching out with one paw, he gestured at the whole of his store, which sold clothing, fabric, and fine things. The clothing he sewed himself, and the fine things were all imported. 

“I need a coat.” 

“For your husband, or perhaps your daughter?” the old dog asked. 

“For my daughter’s friend,” Blonde Roux said. “He’s about three sizes or so larger than her, somewhat longer of leg, long of body, and well, like my daughter, but backwards. She’s got that perky big behind that runs in the family, and Stargazer is wide up front, but skinny in the rear.” 

“Mama…” Eyes rolling, Lime Tart wished that her mother hadn’t said what she said. 

“Hush, Bubelah, I’m trying to get a coat,” her mother said. “It needs to run a little large, but not too large. Something he can grow into a bit. You know how colts grow.” 

“I do, actually,” Fleabag said whilst he began to scratch at his chin. 

“Maybe something like my daughter’s blanket coat,” Blonde Roux said to the old dog who scratched his chin absentmindedly. “It’s practical, with the flaps down the sides. He’s an earth pony though, so it might be hard for him to do up the straps around the legs that hold the flaps down.” 

“I’ve already solved that problem for some of my customers.” All of the wrinkles on Fleabag’s face shifted, parted, and the old dog somehow smiled in spite of the oppressive sag of his droopy face. “Quite clever if I do say so myself. Magnets sewn in under the fabric. They act like buttons.” 

Head bobbing, Blonde Roux boomed out, “Oh, that’s clever!” 

Lime Tart found her attention captured by something else entirely. It was a brass globe of some kind, shiny, and it sat upon a wooden base. What got her attention was all the little holes in the globe, and the fact that she knew what it was. It was a lamp that was a projector of sorts, and it made stars appear on the ceiling. Stargazer had a magazine that had one of these for sale in the back pages, but that one was cheap junk compared to this one. 

The old dog, perceptive, clever, and wise, took notice of her interest. With a turn of his head, he glanced over in the direction of the projector. Then, he returned his attention to Blonde Roux, and after that, he looked down at Lime Tart, who failed to notice that he watched her. She was completely engrossed by the curious, beautiful device. 

“Is that a star projector?” she asked. 

“That is, indeed, a planetarium lamp,” replied Fleabag. 

“I don’t see a cord,” the young filly said to the old dog. 

“It doesn’t have one,” the old dog said to the young filly. “This lamp is magic, not electric. It was made by a craftspony in Canterlot, and it is a fine thing.” 

When her father turned to have a better look, Lime Tart dared to hope. She couldn’t ask, wouldn’t ask, but she could hope. When her mother took interest, Lime Tart thought she might faint. Oh, she hadn’t the slightest clue what fainting felt like, but this had to be it. She was lightheaded, and butterflies were brawling in her tummy. 

“It doesn’t project pinpoints of light upon the ceiling,” Fleabag said, “but rather, it creates an illusion of a galaxy in a room. Visible stars can be seen in the air, along with planets and other celestial phenomenon. It is quite impressive. I’m told it is built to Princess Luna’s exacting standards.” 

“Fancy,” Pigeon Pie said as he moved closer to have a better look. 

“It would be an invaluable tool of study for any young astronomer,” Fleabag said to Pigeon Pie. “Especially one with a bedtime that prevents late night star studies.” 

The adults were doing that thing that adults did and Lime Tart did her best to pay attention, with the hopes that she might learn something. They were bargaining; she wanted to be a better bargainer, so maybe this was a good time to watch how it happened. Her father was playing it cool, but she could tell that his feathers were ruffled. He wasn’t the haggler, her mother was, but he tried his best. 

“I can’t help but notice that there is no price tag.” 

“Pigie, you won’t find a price tag on anything in here,” Blonde Roux said to her husband.

“Formidable.” Eyes narrowed, ears pricked, Pigeon Pie went still.

“Fine things are worth paying for,” the droopy-faced diamond dog said. “However, I am willing to take something other than bits. For the lamp, at least. That came to me in trade, so I am willing to part with it in exchange for some other fine thing with equal value.” 

Those butterflies were brawling in her stomach again, and Lime Tart wished that they would stop. She glanced at her mother, then her father, and then at Fleabag. Each of them wore a different face, though Fleabag’s face was unreadable. It was just wrinkles upon wrinkles, along with a wet, glistening nose. She dared to hope that her parents might somehow get the lamp and already she was preparing to promise to behave all of next year in exchange for their kindness. 

“When ponies come in here, they expect fine things. I have discriminating customers.” Crooked tail waving a little from side to side, Fleabag lifted his forearms and gestured at his surroundings. “My clientele tends to be small, but affluent. I do not sell tawdry, cheap junk. I would like to sell some fine foodstuffs. Perhaps you might know where such a thing can be found?” 

“Payment?” asked Blonde Roux. 

“Commission,” the diamond dog replied. 

With the conversation happening, Lime Tart’s head bobbed back and forth as if she watched a tennis match. Her mother’s face was all scrunched up. What was commission? Lime Tart had no idea, but it sure made her mother think. Her father was eyeballing the star projector and made a funny face whilst he did so. 

“Our hobbies define us,” Fleabag said. “I became a tailor. It has shaped the whole of my life. Mrs. Roux, you became a baker. It is obvious that your hobby became your purpose, for such is the way of ponies like yourself. That became a career, and like me, you now make fine things. Astronomy can be a hobby… or a career.” 

“Pigeon, what do you think? Can we do business?” 

Lime Tart’s eyes darted over to her father and she heard him say in response, “Our food sells itself in the bakery, but we have glass cases and cake racks and such. We don’t have fancy packaging for distribution. Not yet.” 

“As it just so happens”—the raspy diamond dog pressed his front paws together—“I have an associate who has just started a packaging business after a significant investment on my behalf. They’re young. Just starting out. Not a lot of resources. What they needed was a kindly benefactor. Now, they need orders.” 

Much to her own surprise, Lime Tart did not find this boring in the slightest. 

“”Honey, are you sure that you’re fine with taking on the extra work?” asked Pigeon Pie. 

“I am,” replied Blonde Roux without hesitation. “Though I didn’t expect to make a deal tonight.” 

“For the sake of Hearth’s Warming,” the grizzled old diamond dog said, “I will give you the lamp in good faith for the promise of an agreement, and as partners, you would be entitled to a discount on all goods purchased here… such as a coat.” He bowed his head. “A promise would be a fine thing.” 

“Why do this?” Pigeon Pie cast a sidelong glance at the lamp beside him, and then turned his full attention to the diamond dog merchant. “I mean, I’m fine with an agreement, but we’re getting a sweetheart deal here. A part of me needs to know why, because everypony in this town is out for themselves. Why do this for us? What do you hope to get in return?” 

“Because”—Fleabag’s brows attempted to rise, but a cascade of wrinkles pulled the whole of his face back down—“I am old and I have all of the money I will ever need. More than I could possibly spend with the years that I have left. What I crave is acceptance and community. That… that would be a fine thing.” 

“I think we can do business.” Her head rose and fell in rapid succession and Blonde Roux offered up a brilliant, dazzling smile. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Fleabag.” 

“Yes, happy Hearth’s Warming.” The old dog sighed, a tired sound, but he seemed happy. “I look forward to our partnership.” 

And so was Lime Tart, who was beside herself with unbridled joy. Why, she wanted to pronk about and be a wild filly, but she didn’t dare behave in such a way. Though it was a struggle, she behaved herself—she kept her obnoxious joy reined in. Surely, Stargazer would be overwhelmed by such a gift, and maybe, just maybe, it would make him feel better. 

“We still need a coat,” Pigeon Pie said. “Really, that’s all I care about. I don’t want that poor kid freezing to death. The lamp is great, fantastic even, but it doesn’t keep him warm.” 

“Let me show you what I have,” Fleabag offered with a gesture of his paw, the one which had a missing paw-finger. 

Unable to contain herself, Lime Tart rushed forwards, and crashed into her mother’s legs. She slipped one foreleg around her mother’s foreleg, and then clung to her, almost crying with relief. Hearth’s Warming was rescued from a state of disaster—almost—and all they had left to do was show up and save the day. It’d been a long day, too long of a day, and overwhelmed, overcome with relief, little Lime Tart yawned. She didn’t mean to let it escape, but it did. 

“Bubelah…” 

“Yeah, Mom?” 

“Know that I love you… I have the most special gift to give you and I can’t wait for you to find out what it is. All of this feels right… what we’re doing. What you’ve done already. Come on, let’s go find a coat for Stargazer. We don’t want him freezing.” 

“Yes, Mama.” 
> The poor side of town
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, Lime Tart found herself peering into the bathroom mirror. Still wet from her bath, she examined herself as she brushed her teeth. She was not the filly that she was the day before. The filly in the mirror had no flaws to be found, no dreadful shortcomings. Her hindquarters weren’t that big—and she would surely grow into them. Nor was she too fluffy, and The Frizz wasn’t so bad, really. It wasn’t even that difficult to be green, and she rather liked her yellow spots. But perhaps the most important thing about the filly in the mirror was that this filly had saved Hearth’s Warming. 

Oh, Hearth’s Warming would have happened, even without her intervention, but because of her, it would be a special day. Well, two days, actually. Hearth’s Warming Even and Hearth’s Warming Day. Why they called it even instead of eve she didn’t know, but it probably had something to do with the old days. While her toothbrush moved up and down, and side to side, she heard a thump from downstairs. Her mother was doing some last-minute work, even though the bakery would be closed today. 

The day before Hearth’s Warming was an important day for sales, but that didn’t matter. They had plans for today. In just a few hours, they would show up unannounced, invite themselves inside, and they would deliver some much-needed holiday cheer. The night would be spent over at Stargazer’s house, and then Hearth’s Warming Day would be spent together, for surely he would need some help to get through the day. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” she said to the filly in the mirror, and she sprayed her reflection with toothpaste. 

Today, she would save Hearth’s Warming. Maybe in the future, she might save Equestria. It was possible. Her confidence was such that she felt as though anything might be possible, even the extra-impossible stuff. Somehow, she’d gone from doing bad, to doing good, and it felt great to do good. Things had worked out. Her parents had a new business opportunity, and while she didn’t understand it, she knew it was important. It would probably change their lives in ways she couldn’t comprehend. 

When the holidays were over, and things had settled down, she was going to work on saving Upside-Down Cake. How might she start this task? That was unknown, but she would find a way. Stargazer would surely help. She knew that if she asked, he would help, because he was just that sort of friend. Upside-Down Cake would be just one more star in Lime Tart’s constellation. And maybe, just maybe, when Upside-Down Cake was sorted out, perhaps together they could save Treacle from herself. 

Little Lime Tart was a filly with high hopes. 



 

“Do you have the sleeping bags for camping?” Blonde Roux asked her husband. 

They’d never actually gone camping, even after buying all the stuff to do it. The very idea of camping scared Lime Tart; like her parents, she was a city-pony, who rather liked civilisation and all that came with it. Why ponies went out camping in mosquito infested fens was beyond her, and left her baffled. But tonight, they would camp in another pony’s house. For funsies. They would leave behind all of the comforts of home, and do it for a good cause. 

“Already loaded in the cart, honey.” 

“Mom, when can I wear makeup?” she asked. 

“Never, Bubelah. Oy vey, makeup? Really?” 

“I want to be pretty.” 

“You’re already pretty, Bubelah.” 

“But I could be prettier,” she said, and she delighted in her mother’s visible distress. 

“Well, time to chain our daughter up in the cellar,” her father said as he trotted into the kitchen. 

“That won’t work,” she said to her father, “I have a zapper and I know how to use it.” 

“Bubelah, start putting those containers into the cookie.” 

“Mom?” 

“Do as I say! There’s so much to do!” 

“Honey, I think you meant to say, ‘put those cookies into the container.’ Tarty, do as your mother asks.” 

“What’d I say?” Blonde Roux froze in place, blinked a few times, and then said, “I didn’t get enough sleep. Oy vey. I was up late getting stuff done, and I got up extra early to get everything sorted out. I need coffee.” 

First, Lime Tart had to climb up into the big tall chair, and then she had to stand up on said chair to have a better look at the preparation table. Her mother began to brew coffee along with everything else she was doing. She saw the cookies on the cooling rack, and right away, her mouth watered at the sight of the shredded coconut and carrot curry cookies. A little spicy, a little sweet, with chewy bits of dried coconut and carrot. 

“The macarons are a little less than perfect,” her mother said, almost shouting. “I’m so embarrassed. There’s cracks in them. Why, these aren’t fit for sale and—” 

“Honey, it’ll be fine.” 

“No, it won’t be. I am a baker. My life is defined by what I bake. We just took on work to make fine things, and these… these are not fine and I’m—mmph!” 

Her mother was silenced by a passionate, rather noisy smooch, and Lime Tart did her best to pay it no attention. There were three loud thumps as her mother’s right hind hoof banged against the kitchen floor, everything flying through the air wavered somewhat alarmingly as her concentration faltered. This was the worst sort of kissing, with tongues, and it was super-gross. 

She packed the cookies into the container, and ate one to reward herself. The first big bite was bliss, and she did her best to ignore the slurping, sucking sounds that her parents made. Of course, the cookie was perfect, and something about the spiciness was perfect for the holiday. It spread warmth through her body and left heat on her tongue. 

“Oy vey, Pigie… I think you left my oven on.” 

“Oh, that’s just yucko. Don’t destroy my innocence.” 

“So says the filly who just asked to wear makeup.” 

Much to her dismay, Lime Tart found that she had no response. No snappy comeback. There was no zinger to save her. She sighed, shook her head, and continued to put the cookies into the festive painted tin that had pictures of Canterlot on the lid. A few cookies, a layer of wadded, wrinkled wax paper, and then another layer of cookies. It was a task that she’d done many times, and it was now second nature to her. 



 

Outside was a winter wasteland. The sky was all fluffy clouds, what little of the sky that could be seen with the terrible visibility. Overnight, a bunch of snow had fallen, and now ponies had to dig themselves out. It wasn’t a Windigo Squall, the worst it seemed, was over, but the snow fell steady and without ceasing. In some places, the snow drifts were so high that they reached the roof. 

“Mom, why do you pull the wagon?” 

“Because I’m stronger than your father, Bubelah, and there is no shame in that.” 

“Do you worry how others might see it?”

“So full of questions…” 

“I’m trying to sort stuff out, Mom.” She watched and waited as the garage doors were closed and locked. When she saw the tree tied to the top of the cart, she felt giddy, and wanted to pronk about, but she feared getting swallowed by a snow drift and never seen again—at least not until spring. 

“Your father plays with dolls and I pull the cart. Everything is fine and normal—” 

“Not when you say it that way, honey.” Pigeon Pie scowled at the snow with fierce annoyance and then made a futile effort to fan it away from him with his wings. “So, Tarty, what is it exactly that you’re trying to sort out, and why do you want to wear makeup all of a sudden?” 

“I feel it’s time to grow up a little.” She shrugged her withers and didn’t know what else to say to her father. 

“Well, don’t grow up too soon, Tarty. That’s not allowed.” 

“Do we have everything?” Blonde Roux asked. 

“I’m pretty sure we do,” Pigeon Pie replied. “Wait, what about the baby? Do we have Tarty? I haven’t seen the baby for a while. I think we left her behind somewhere.” 

“I’m not a baby!” She stomped in the snow and glared daggers at her father, who now crowed with laughter. For a moment, she thought about tossing a snowball at her father, but then she saw how frustrated he was with the falling snow. Even though she was steamed by what he’d said, she couldn’t make things worse for him. 

If only she could pew-pew every falling snowflake before they reached the ground. 

“Let’s go,” Blonde Roux said. “I doubt the roads will be clear in that part of town. We might have to clear our own way.” 

“I have news for you, honey. Tarty can make snow explode—” 

“She what?” 

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough. Just put her out front and watch.” He waved a wing at his daughter. “Tarty, do what you did in the cemetery. Show Mom what you did.” 

“Can do,” she replied, and just like that, all of a sudden, she was in love with her father again. 

“First you shoot icicles at Treacle and now you can make snow explode?” Several deep wrinkles of worry appeared upon Blonde Roux’s face. “Sometimes, I wonder if you need magic instruction. I have concerns, sometimes. That’s going on the list. Bubelah, you walk with me and you show me what you can do, alright?” 

“Sure thing, Mom.” Unable to stop herself, she grinned. “Let’s go!” 



 

A mass of snow was utterly obliterated by Lime Tart’s blast. The snowflakes scattered and blew about on the wind. They were almost there now, and under normal circumstances, she would have been able to see Stargazer’s house from here. But the day was grey and the houses out here, almost all of them were buried beneath impressive snowdrifts. Tongue out, Lime Tart took careful aim… 

And blasted more snow out of the way. 

It felt good to do, but it was also tiring. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, not exactly, but somehow, her blasts sent the loose, fluffy powder flying. Nopony had cleared the roads out this way, and the way forward was quite treacherous. Her mother was able to push and shove snow out of the way with her magic, but it lacked the impressive explosiveness of Lime Tart’s concussive snow-bombs. 

Still, watching her mother, Lime Tart learned a few things. Her mother could push and shove huge amounts of snow and just move them out of the way. It was organised, neat, and tidy. While Lime Tart’s kabooms sent snow flying everywhere and every which way, her mother actually directed where the snow went. There was something to be said for careful application over explosive force. 

“The poor side of town looks a bit neglected—” 

“Pigie!” 

“Well, it’s true. It does. It’s almost like the mayor doesn’t like these ponies—” 

“Pigie!” 

“Carefully balanced budget my a—” 

“Pigeon Pie, you’ll be a cooked goose if you finish that sentence in front of Limey!” 

“Well, our street got plowed.” 

“We’re a business. What we do contributes to the town’s well being and—” 

“And that’s my point, honey. We get looked after, but what do these ponies get?” 

There was a gasp as Blonde Roux started to say something, but then her words failed her. Though only a filly, Lime Tart could feel the tension between her parents. They weren’t fighting, far from it, but they clearly disagreed about this, whatever it was. Her father had strong feelings about it, obviously. Looking about, it bothered her that nothing had been done to help these ponies. 

She ceased firing off random pew-pews and instead began shoving mounds of snow out of the way to help her mother clear the road. Where but a few days before she struggled to push snow off of a headstone, she found it quite easy to do the magic needed to help others. She pushed, she shoved, she grunted, and while she couldn’t move as much snow as her mom did, her own efforts were impressive enough that she was proud of them. 

“We’re almost there,” she said to her parents. 

When Blonde Roux replied, she sounded a bit sad. “Lead the way, Bubelah.” 
> Holiday arson: it's the reason for the season
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Surprise, silly!” 

The door was hardly even open when Lime Tart decided that now was a perfect time to glomp Stargazer, who was totally unprepared and caught off-guard. She launched herself at him, bowled him over, pinned him down, and before he could say a word of protest, she reached out and booped him right on his cute little nose. 

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Stargazer! I brought presents. We’re gonna have a party and—” 

“And you two are totally going to kiss under some mistletoe.” 

“Yeugh, Daddy! No! No we’re not! Nasty!” 

Rosie Ribbon laughed; it was such a rare sound that Lime Tart was shocked into total silence, and Stargazer, still pinned beneath her, was as well. The two foals both craned their heads to look at the mare in the bed, and neither of them made a peep. Rosie’s laughter was careful, hesitant, but it still counted as a laugh. It was really quite astonishing, and Lime Tart took it as a sign that all would be well. 

“We have a lot of stuff to bring in. I’ll do that.” Blonde Roux pushed the two foals out of the way of the door with her hoof. “Don’t let the heat out. It’s cold!” 

“We’ll need a place to set up the tree,” Pigeon Pie said as he stepped over the two foals. “Someplace where Rosie can see it, but not too close to the fireplace. Ah, maybe over there.” 

“Lime, what did you do?” asked Stargazer. 

“I saved Hearth’s Warming,” she replied as she looked down at the colt pinned beneath her. “You’re so cute right now, I almost can’t can’t stand it!” 

Of course, as he always did, Stargazer retorted, “I’m not cute!” 



 

A roaring, crackling fire blazed in the fireplace as the wind groaned and howled beneath the eaves. Everything was inside and the front door shut to keep out the cold. Blonde Roux busied herself in the small kitchen, arranging and preparing food. A tree now stood in the corner where the living room met the kitchen, and Pigeon Pie carefully placed the many boxes of decorations upon the floor. 

Lime Tart couldn’t wait to decorate it, but wait she did. 

“We’ll need to venture out for milk,” Blonde Roux said from the small kitchen. 

“I’m sorry—” 

“No, you don’t get to be sorry, Rosie. Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the moment. Hang on, I have some fresh-baked bread and some butter. Let me get that out for you. I don’t normally bake bread, but I did.” 

“Because of you, I have fresh-baked bread again. And food. And a holiday for my son and daughter… and I…” With a shudder, Rosie’s words trailed off into nothingness for a short time, but then she recovered. “You got others to help me. Thank you so much.” 

“You just needed an advocate. Somepony to be your voice. Somepony had to organise the effort to help you, and I guess that somepony was me. Which reminds me, I need to come down hard on Noble Fir.” 

“I can’t complain,” Rosie said. “I don’t dare complain. I’m so afraid that what help I get will just dry up. Mister Fir brought splinters and bark. He said he’d be back in a week.” 

Lime Tart noticed that Stargazer seemed quiet and sullen. 

“I’m so scared of seeming to be ungrateful for what I do get.” 

“Well, this is my failure.” Opening a brown paper bag, Blonde Roux pulled out several loaves of uncut bread and then placed them atop the bag she brought them in. “After the holidays, I’m going to have a chit-chat with everypony involved and lay down some hard rules. I didn’t want to have to tell ponies how to help out, I wanted to trust in their natural goodness… and just look where that got us. You keep having to suffer for it… so I am going to lay down the law.” 

“When you say that, it scares me. What if ponies don’t want to help me because they’re mad with you?” 

“Well then, I publicly shame them with pictures of their faces on my bakery walls, and then I do everything myself, which I probably should have done from the beginning, rather than depend upon the so-called goodness of a small town. This place is rotten.” 

“Stop looking so glum,” Lime Tart said to Stargazer, who was caught off-guard by her words. A cunning filly, she pressed her advantage. “I know what your presents are. I even helped to wrap one of them last night after we got home from shopping.” 

“I didn’t get you anything,” the still-sullen colt replied. 

“But you did,” she said to him. “My mark. My cutie mark. You helped me get that, and you’ve taught me to be a better pony. You’re my best friend and you’ve shown me what real friendship is. Which reminds me… we hafta save Upside-Down Cake. Any ideas?” 

“Not at the moment.” 

“But you will help me save her, right?” 

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and tossed his head back. “I guess. If I have to.” Then, his eyes brightened and as he reached out with his left foreleg, he said to Lime Tart in a voice of near-excitement, “I got my sister to say a new word.” 

“Really?” Lime Tart clapped her front hooves together. “I know she can say ‘brub-bub,’ what else can she say now?” 

In response, Stargazer approached his mother’s bed, which sat in the middle of the living room, and he smiled at his baby sister. “Say it. Say your new word. Don’t be shy.” 

“Brub-bub,” she said to her brother. 

“No, not that one. The other one.” 

She smacked her lips, tilted her head to one side, which caused her ears to flop over, and she said in a questioning tone, “Vegebubbles?” 

“That’s the one. Good job, little sister.” 

“Vegebubbles,” she said again, and then she blew a spit bubble. 

“He spends hours trying to get her to talk,” Rosie remarked. “I don’t know where he gets his patience.” 

“After I cut some bread, I’m going out for milk. Do I need to pick up anything else?” 

“I’m surprised that we brought a jug of eggnog, but forgot the milk.” 

“Oh hush, Pigie. Do we need anything?” 

At this moment, Lime Tart felt inspired. She puffed out her chest, took a deep breath, and in a powerful voice she said, “I think all we really need is each other.” 



 

Following Stargazer’s instructions, Lime Tart hung a wooden nutcracker ornament on the tree. The fire was now a heap of hot, glowing coals that cast warm, vibrant light throughout the room. Blonde Roux had already returned and she busied herself in the kitchen. The windows rattled as the wind hammered them, and moaned in protest of being kept outside. 

Meanwhile, Pigeon Pie had ceased all of his activity so that he might cuddle Stargazer’s sister. Held in his forelegs, the quiet filly almost seemed as though she might go to sleep. She yawned, repeatedly, and fought to keep her eyes open. Pigeon Pie shushed her, rocked her, and tried to get her to nap—but she resisted his efforts with an indomitable will. 

“Can we open any presents early?” Hopeful as always, Lime Tart glanced about and hoped to find sympathy for her plight. Even though she had some presents, she didn’t care about them—she only wanted Stargazer to open up the planetarium projector. 

“You haven’t kissed under the mistletoe just yet and—” 

“Dad, hush. Stop that. Let the baby go to sleep.” 

“Pigie, did we remember the cameras?” 

“I remembered the cameras, and packed them last night. And who remembered to bring along twenty rolls of film?” He waited for a moment with dramatic pause. “This pegasus right here. I came prepared to take pictures.” 

“Such a pompous parakeet—” 

“That’s a hurtful stereotype,” the offended pegasus said in hushed tones. 



 

The soothing heat from the fire made Lime Tart drowsy, but she didn’t want to nap. What she wanted to do was open presents, but she didn’t dare make a fuss. A light meal was served, some sweets, a few treats, and some fresh fruits. She didn’t feel like eating at the moment, though she was tempted by some of the sweets. But hunger was no pressing concern for her at the moment. Her only desire was to see Stargazer’s reaction to his gift. 

This dreadful anticipation might prove fatal, she was sure of it. 

“Your dad loves babies,” Blonde Roux said to her daughter. “Just look at him.” 

“They’re little dolls to him,” Lime Tart said to her mother. 

“Well, Bubelah… here’s a gift that you can have right now. Your father, he’s getting back in practice. Come late spring, or early summer, you’re going to have a little brother… or a little sister. Just like Stargazer does.” 

This revelation shocked Lime Tart to her very core. “Really?” 

“Really.” Her mother nodded. “You’ll get a chance to see how your father was with you.” 

“Congratulations, Blonde.” 

“Thank you, Rosie.” 

“You know”—Rosie hesitated and seemed to struggle for a moment—“I can still take care of foals. Even if I can’t walk or move around. I could still foalsit, if ponies would just give me a chance. But nopony will. If you need a foalsitter”—again, she hesitated and fought to find her words—“I wouldn’t even ask for anything in return. What I wouldn’t give to feel useful again. To have value.” 

Her voice was so fragile, so brittle, Lime Tart feared it might shatter. 

She wanted to cry, but somehow held it all in. 

“We can work something out—” 

“Really?” This response from Rosie was a squeak of absolute surprise. 

Shifting her body about, Blonde Roux turned to face Rosie Ribbon. “Yes, really. I’m about to take on more work. I could use the help. We’ll work something out, Rosie. Don’t you worry.” 

A smile appeared on Rosie’s face at the same time as a flood of tears poured from her eyes. Raising her foreleg, Lime Tart wiped her eyes. The fire must have made it smokey in here, and it was difficult to see. She sniffled a bit, blinked a few times, and then lost the battle. The first hot tears squeezed their way out, and she felt them soak into her cheeks. Unable to bear it, she reached out for her mother, wrapped her forelegs around her mother’s foreleg, and buried her face into her mother’s fetlock. 

Then, unable to hold back the flood, she sobbed. 



 

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Lime.” 

Having just come out of the bathroom, Lime Tart paused. Just a yard away, Stargazer stood, and he had such an intense expression of warmth and… affection? It was obvious that he’d worried about her when she cried. He was so sensitive, and she felt so very ashamed for having once bullied him about that. Not teasing, as she had once thought, but actual bullying. She could tease him now, and he might react, or even smile, because she’d learned the hard way what playful teasing happened to be. 

She took a step closer and was almost overcome with uncertainty. When she shivered, it wasn’t because of some chilly draught, but something else entirely. Just being near him gave her chills, and she wanted so much to glomp him again, just so she could warm herself. At the moment, she was tongue tied, and also a bit mortified because she had thoughts about mistletoe. 

“You’re my best friend,” the colt said, his voice thin, creaky, and solemn. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. To be honest, I didn’t even know I needed a friend, but I did. So thank you.” 

He drew in a deep breath, appeared to gather his courage, and Lime Tart wondered if he was about to kiss her. That would make things easier. Just a quick peck on the cheek, maybe. Something simple, short, and sweet. If he made the first move, then she wouldn’t have to. All she would have to do is react, maybe act surprised, or just kiss him back. What was he doing, and why did it take him so long to do it? Why did he struggle? 

“Lime, do you want to drink eggnog and see who can burp the loudest?” 

Colts. It was a struggle not to roll her eyes. “Do I? That’d be great. Let’s do that!” 



 

After an entire day of snacking and doing a whole lot of nothing, little Lime Tart found herself quite sleepy. Too much cheese had been eaten and too much eggnog drank. There was also the fact that she was up before dawn and had too little sleep, just like her mother. She kept yawning, and each time it was against her will, but she could do nothing to stop them. The dreary day did not help, as very little light shone through the windows. 

“What are we doing for supper?” asked Blonde Roux. 

Supper was unthinkable. Absolutely so. Why, the very idea of eating supper made Lime Tart mightily uncomfortable. Unable to stop herself, she squirmed and wiggled about, and then allowed a tiny belch to escape. Well, she thought it would be tiny, but what actually came out was something so foul, so gurgly, and so incredibly disgusting that Stargazer’s little sister began to fuss. 

It was hard to feel bad about disturbing the baby when you couldn’t make your smile go away. 

“Goodness, Bubelah. What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I did good,” she said in response to her mother’s question. 

“Eh… that’s my girl.” A pleased proud parent pegasus, Pigeon Pie practically preened. “I don’t think supper is a worry, honey. The kids are fit to pop. Look at their little tummies.” 

“Well, how about we open up a present or two instead?” 

Time stopped. It actually stopped and Lime Tart felt it. Or maybe her heart had stopped, and she no longer had a way to count the seconds as they passed. Asking about supper was just a setup. A ruse. Which presents might be opened? Now, she found herself fretting about it. Should Stargazer get his coat tonight, and his big super-important present tomorrow? That would be the practical thing to do. The really nice presents should happen on Hearth’s Warming Day. 

Oh, she was torn now. 

Her parents would have to decide. 

“Rosie, do you have anything to say about this?” asked Blonde Roux. 

“We opened everything on Hearth’s Warming Even. But Stargazer is older and more patient now.” Then, after a brief moment lost in thought, she added, “This is her first Hearth’s Warming. Still haven’t named her. Nothing has come to mind.” 

“A name will come in time, they always do,” Blonde Roux said knowingly. 

“It will probably be Stargazer who names her.” With a gentle, careful turn of her head, Rosie glanced at her son, and her eyes returned to the unicorn filly in the bed beside her. “He’s making progress on getting her to interact. So he’s earned that right, if he comes up with something.” 

Beside Lime Tart, Stargazer’s blue face turned somewhat purple. 

“Hey, kid… you should open that square box. The one with the wrinkly wrapping paper—” 

“I did my best.” Flustered, Lime Tart folded her forelegs over her barel and then fumed in silence. But her anger didn’t last for very long, it burned out in mere seconds, and then she was ready to help Stargazer open his gift. 

It was the gift. 

The little blue colt crawled beneath the tree and then began to push the present across the floor. An extreme giddiness overcame Lime Tart, so much so that she actually felt dizzy. It didn’t stop her from leaping to her hooves though, and she went to Stargazer’s side to help him, should he need it. After he pushed the gift out into the open, he sat down beside it, and then spent a moment just staring at it. 

How agonising. 

Didn’t he understand how important it was to open it? 

Rosie and Blonde Roux both had cameras now, but Lime Tart failed to notice. At the moment, her world consisted of herself, Stargazer, and his present. She gave herself a hug, but it failed to help, and that infuriating colt still hadn’t tore off the wrapping paper. He was slow and careful, just like he was with everything else, and it was excruciating. To keep herself from shouting, she stuck her left front hoof into her mouth and bit down. 

Her hoof tasted an awful lot like floor. 

Floor didn’t taste good; not in the slightest, which was perhaps the reason why her mother insisted that she didn’t eat anything off of the floor. 

“Do you think he’s aware of the frustration he’s causing Tarty?” 

“He has to be, Pigie.” 

“They sure are cute together.” 

“They are, Rosie. Oy vey.” 

Unable to bear another second of this, Lime Tart yanked her hoof out of her mouth and then said, “Open it. Just open it!” 

“The wrapping paper has stars on it,” the colt replied. 

“It does.” 

“I recognise some constellations.” 

“I could show you some constellations if you’d just open the box, Stargazer.” 

“Are you going to show me your butt?” the cautious colt deadpanned. 

All of Lime Tart’s air escaped in one prolonged wheeze. He had her dead to rights. She was slain. Finished. Done. Pressing her front hooves against her face, she fell over backwards with an exasperated sigh of demolished defeat. It was all over now. She rolled back and forth, she rocked herself but found no comfort, and so she then rolled over onto her belly. Once on her stomach, she groaned. 

“He’s so much like his father. All dry wit and quiet dignity. I am so thankful I have him.” 

“Just open the present,” Lime Tart begged whilst she writhed on her tummy and flailed her legs about. “You’re killing me. Make the hurting stop.” 

With slow, deliberate movements, the colt took an end of ribbon in his teeth, gave it a tug, and undid the bow. Meanwhile, Lime Tart flopped about on the floor like a fish, until there was a brief, brassy pealing note, a bit of trumpeting fanfare to celebrate the opening of Hearth’s Warming presents. 

“Whoops.” Mortified, everything was made worse by the snickering of the adults. 

“Be careful of brown dwarfs,” Stargazer somehow said to her with the ribbon in his mouth. 

“Oh, hah-hah. You’re a funny colt, you know that?” 

With the ribbon out of the way, Stargazer pawed at the present, poked at it with a hoof, and failed to tear the paper. So he took a more aggressive swipe, and when the paper peeled away, the wooden box beneath was revealed. She wished that he would hurry, and her consternation was such that she failed to notice that the adults took pictures of her impatient agitation. Slowly, the starry paper was peeled away, and the wooden box within revealed itself. 

The reflection of firelight could be seen in the brass hinges. 

In anticipation of the grand opening, Lime Tart sat up, and her horn blazed with piercing light as she readied herself to help—if her assistance was needed. Using the edge of his hoof, Stargazer pressed the spring-loaded latch, which made a muted click, and then he lifted the lid of the wooden box so that he might peer inside. She leaned in close—too close—and her cheek brushed his. 

Electric tingles flowed down her spine as her horn cast some light into the depths of the box. 

“Is this a—” 

“Yes,” Lime Tart squealed, unable to hold in her excitement for a second longer. 

A second latch was pressed, and the front panel of the box opened, which allowed the projector to be lifted out. Stargazer did so, held it up in front of his face for a moment to examine it, and then he put it down upon the floor. Trembling, Lime Tart pressed up against him, and was immediately assaulted by The Frizz. But she didn’t care about The Frizz, she only cared for Stargazer’s happiness. 

“It’s magic,” she said to him, almost whispering. “No need to plug it in. Just press the button on the base to turn it on.” 

He did so, and the living room underwent a breathtaking transformation. A swirling galaxy appeared above the planetarium projector, which grew in size until it filled the room. There were so many stars—an uncountable number of stars—a galaxy’s worth of stars and other cosmological phenomenon. It slowly turned, whirling the way that galaxies do, and Lime Tart focused upon the stars directly over her head. 

It was beautiful. 

“Three-armed spiral galaxy…” The colt breathed these words, and when they tickled Lime Tart’s ear, it flickered. “That’s our galaxy.” 

“Yes,” she said to him. “Our galaxy. Mine and yours. Ours to study.” 

“I can see stellar nurseries.” 

“We have the whole winter to stay indoors and watch the stars,” she said to him, almost whispering. 

Quite unexpectedly, she found herself embraced by Stargazer, and he squeezed her so hard that he left her breathless. With her body pressed against his, she could feel his heart beating. It pounded against his ribs so hard, and it made her own heart beat faster in response. It was a happy, perfect moment, one that she hoped that she would never forget. 

It was a memory captured on film. 

Emboldened, she could only think of one thing to do. With a grunt of effort, she twisted her body around, wrapped her forelegs around Stargazer, squeezed him back, and then, before her courage failed her, she planted a clumsy peck upon the hard angle of his jawbone. It wasn’t the place she had aimed for, but it would have to do. She clung to her best friend, felt his warmth, and she felt her heart ignite with inner-fire. 

Such a precious fire it was, it consumed her being, and she hoped the flame would never be extinguished. What could be said? This moment was too perfect to spoil with words. She, a filly, had somehow saved Hearth’s Warming. Of course, she had the help of her parents, who made this possible. Oh, how she was thankful for them. How grateful she was for her wonderful, loving parents, and the fact that she still had both of them. 

The fire that burned within filled her with hope. 

If she could save Hearth’s Warming, then maybe, just maybe, she could save Stargazer from his grief. She dared to hope, to dream, to believe. Beneath the stars, the swirling, revolving galaxy overhead, she clung to him and was not embarrassed. It didn’t feel awkward, or icky, or gross. The fire felt right, good, and pure. It sustained her, filled her with joy, and buoyed her spirits. 

Anything was truly possible. 

“Thank you, Lime,” he whispered into her ear. 

“You’re very welcome, Stargazer. Happy Hearth’s Warming.” 

“Yes,” he replied. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.” 

And so it was, indeed, a happy heartwarming Hearth’s Warming.