> A Hearth's Warming Carol
>  by Nocturnal Reverie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: Miracle's Ghost
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I will start off this story with one simple fact of truth you all must accept: Miracle is dead. Her sudden, unexpected demise came about some seven years ago on the very night of Hearth's Warming Eve; and came in the form of momentary carelessness that left her slipping on a particularly smooth piece of icy road, and coming face-to-tread with her own caravan wheel. Her certificate was official in every sense of the term, and was signed by the coroner, the undertaker, and her primary—and only—mourner. Yes, even Snowfall Frost herself signed the solemn document, which in turn may have by itself officiated it, as Snowfall Frost only deemed such things important enough to sign when they were as official as the death of her work partner.

I will not bore you with the details of the funeral, small and few as they may have been. Dead pieces of wood held together by dead pieces of metal working together to hold a dead pony as she was lowered into a dead patch of earth. The only one in attendance—other than the priest—was Snowfall Frost herself. The mare was the closest thing to a friend Miss Miracle had, and even then one could not find much of a friendly word between the two. But, Snowfall Frost was her sole partner, and sole administrator, and sole beneficiary, and sole...everything else. To Snowfall Frost, Miracle was likewise the same, though that would not matter any longer, as Miracle was now dead seven years.

In the act of saving both my time and your patience, with the intention of getting on to what you all came here for, I will move along from making any reference, direct or obscure, to other classical works that may or may not contain a nudge of foreshadowing. That is, assuming we can all agree, and that it is made very clear to you, dear audience, that Miracle is, in fact, dead. Snowfall Frost knows this, all who reside in their little town know this, and now you, dear reader, are in on the secret as well.

Though she had been dead these seven years, Snowfall Frost never covered up Miracle's name, nor did she change the name of their shared alchemy business. Some may have given her enough benefit of the doubt to assume she simply didn't have the heart to do so. In actuality, she was simply too tight-pocketed to bother with something that had been the same for years on end, and was now seven years older than it needed to remain.

Snowfall, likewise, had not changed in the seven years after Miracle's passing; but remained as tightly wound as her coinpurse. Not a hair was out of place in her purple and teal mane, and it always maintained the same length and curl throughout the year, with her bangs parted perfectly on either side of her horn. Her spectacles were always perfectly polished, her tophat perfectly centered, perfectly matching her perfectly-fitted, burgundy waistcoat. Without fail, she exuded a seriousness that not even the magical snowfallen holiday of Hearth's Warming could pierce. No, she did not even give the slightest chuckle when foals ran past her on the snowy streets, and instead opted to scowl at the snow that had been stirred onto her orchid fur.

"Pah," she would spit, shaking her hoof before continuing on her way.

The ponies around her would always tense as she walked by, most even avoiding her usual route to work during the times where she would be going and coming. Not that she minded, and actually preferred it—especially during such an accursed holiday like Hearth's Warming.

Alas, to her, this was not such a day, as she was stopped about a stone's throw away from her establishment by a unicorn as white as the surrounding snow, save for her sapphire blue eyes and mane of deep purple.

"Good morning, auntie!" Snowfall's niece called joyously, momentarily adjusting the scarf that hung over her hoof-made dress. "And what a wonderful Hearth's Warming Eve it is, isn't it?"

"Pah!" Snowfall Frost spat, turning up her nose.

Her niece scoffed, "Is that really all you have to say?! 'Pah!'?"

Snowfall groaned in sigh. "Why are you troubling me this morning, Merry?"

"Oh, come now," she chuckled, "is it not my right to wish my aunt a Happy Hearth's Warming?"

"What reason do you have to go flitting about wishing everypony Happy Hearth's Warming? Why are you so cheerful, what with how poor you are?"

"I would surely like to say the same of you," Merry rebutted. "What reason do you have to be so cross, with how wealthy you are?"

To her credit, Merry’s words actually made her aunt hesitate. Unable to come up with a retort of her own, Snowfall simply gave another "Pah!" before continuing on her way.

"Oh, honestly," Snowfall's niece continued, trotting along beside her aunt. "I really don't see how somepony could be so grumpy during the most wonderful part of the year."

Snowfall huffed an annoyed sigh. "And I don't see how one could be so caught up in another's personal business. I don't stick my nose into anypony’s personal dealings during the holidays, so I certainly don't see why everypony feels the need to stick their nose into mine. I celebrate in my own way, you in yours, though I must say I don't see why you would. It never gave you anything other than more bills on your counter and fewer bits in your pockets."

"So what if it has?" Merry retorted. "To me, such things don't matter. I, for one, have never forgotten the history of this holiday, and it is for that reason that I will always celebrate it in the same way as our ancestors. It is the one time of year where true generosity abounds, and all ponies—more fortunate or otherwise—treat each other as equals. So even if it doesn't do me any material good, I always have and always will hold things of the heart far more valuable than those of the world; and for that, I will always say God bless it!"

"You said it, Merry!" cried an exuberant voice from above. The two unicorns gave the sky their eyes, one greeting the voice with a smile; the other, a scowl.

A mare of cyan fur and rainbow mane hovered a few feet over the two, waving to Snowfall's niece, who returned it gladly.

"Get to your post," Snowfall ordered the pegasus, who happened to be her clerk heading into work—a pegasus by the name of Snowdash. At once, the mare blurred through the front door of Snowfall's establishment, and began to light the fire.

"As for you," Snowfall growled to her niece. "If you're so keen on making great speeches, why did you become a tailor?"

"Because it is a job I love," Merry declared.

"Love? For a job?" Snowfall Frost scoffed. "What good is a job you love if it keeps you poor?"

"It pays the bills, and keeps Carol Belle and myself fed," she returned, though Snowfall didn't see her eyes drift in a flash of forlornness to the door wherein the clerk disappeared. "That’s the most I could possibly ask for."

Snowfall huffed out a "Feh!" as she stepped up to her door and pushed it open. "Good day, Merry."

"Oh, just one more thing!" Snowfall's niece chirped, following her aunt into the slowly-warming space. "The girls and I are going to the party being had in Town Hall tomorrow night. Would you join us there?"

"I don't believe I will," Snowfall answered. "You do recall I spend the holidays in my own way, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, but why must your 'own way' constantly be alone?"

"Because that's how I like it!" exclaimed Snowfall. "Now do be on your way, and leave me be!"

Merry flinched as if her aunt had slapped her, smile failing her momentarily before she nodded resolutely. "Well now, if that is how it must be." She turned herself around, pulled her smile on once again, and headed for the door, bidding Snowdash a Happy Hearth's Warming before once again braving the cold.

"Happy Hearth's Warming! See you tomorrow night!" Snowdash returned heartily, before dodging left and right about the little office, no doubt hoping to complete her tasks early that day.

'And she's no better,' Snowfall Frost brooded to herself as she watched her clerk. 'Happy as a fool putting on a show, and only paid 15 bits a week, raising a younger sister of her own.'

The pegasus momentarily took to the air to grab a scroll or two from the highest shelf, wings straining slightly against a tweed work suit that was two sizes too small and appeared four years too old. Her hair, as per Snowfall's request, was cut short, parted down the middle on either side of her forehead, splitting the orange hue of her mane in half. The colder colors of her neck—that is: green, blue, and purple—were combed down into place, neatly tucked into her collar.

As Snowfall Frost took her seat and began her daily writing and studying, the bell above her door gave its little jingle, signaling the door had been opened. Wondering who had once again disturbed her peace, her eyes peaked over her spectacles to find a purple unicorn entering her shop, carrying a clipboard in her likewise purple aura and a purple baby dragon on her back.

"Good day!" The unicorn spoke in a kind voice. "This is Snowfall 'n Miracle's, correct?" The unicorn asked, pronouncing the establishment as 'Snowfallen Miracles'—a common mistake made by those of seemingly lesser intelligence, though Snowfall could not for the life of her figure out why.

"Snowfall's and Miracle's," Snowfall Frost corrected coldly. "What brings you here?"

The purple unicorn answered, "Ah! Am I speaking to Miss Snowfall or Miss Miracle?"

"Miracle has been dead for seven years this very day," Snowfall deadpanned. "And to whom am I speaking?"

"Starlight Shimmer," the unicorn answered politely, pulling a wayward strand of purple-themed mane out of her face. She gestured to the baby dragon on her back, who was scribbling away at a piece of parchment. "And this is Seafood Dinner. We are representatives of the Elements of Harmony, and was wondering if you'd like to make a donation on behalf of your company."

Snowfall Frost narrowed her eyes. Every year, another representative of the same blasted charity came around begging the ponies of the town for donations for this or that. Though her answer was already decided, Snowfall Frost decided to humor the mare. If she had decided to waste Snowfall's time, why shouldn't she waste Starlight Shimmer's?

"And where will the proceeds go this year?" Snowfall inquired.

"To the poor and needy," Starlight Shimmer answered in a smile. "We would like to gain enough money to give a proper meal and shelter to many of the homeless in the country. We, as I'm sure you, are well aware that need becomes more apparent around the holiday; and we also know this is the time when generosity and kindness abound in the hearts of many. Therefore, we believe this mission will be a successful one, one you can be a part of, if you so wish."

Snowfall gave a conniving smile, eyes squinting. "I don't," she answered simply.

The purple unicorn's face faltered in surprise. "Y...you don't? Don't what?"

"Wish to be a part of it," Snowfall answered curtly.

"But," Starlight Shimmer protested, "without the donations of ponies like you, many may not get the shelter they'll need to stay warm. Some may even die."

"And? It's none of my business if they do," Snowfall Frost replied. "Why should I trouble myself in the affairs of those who are incapable of keeping themselves alive?"

As soon as Snowfall spoke those words, her clerk stopped in her sweeping, staring up at her employer. Snowfall, however, did not notice, and was therefore incapable of bearing any mind to the spark of shock and heartbreak that lit up behind the mare’s crimson eyes. A moment of silence passed for her clerk, before she forced herself to keep sweeping, burying all of her inner thoughts for the sake of staying both quiet and on the side of Snowfall's potential good graces, should any at all remain today.

"Good day," Snowfall finished, returning her eyes to her papers, cutting off whatever attention she had left to give the representative and her dragon.

Starlight Shimmer's mouth floundered a moment, the mare grappling for her thoughts, before she gave a curt nod and exited the building, passing Snowdash, both of them wishing the other a Happy Hearth's Warming.

And so, the day continued on. The cloudy sky allowed the occasional beam of sunlight to grace the town, though its rays did little to warm the area. A light wind picked up, the weather-working pegasi moving the clouds into position to prepare for a snowfall later the next day, as per their orders.

Ponies went about their business up and down the streets, making final preparations for whatever plans the evening entailed. Many passed by Snowfall's warehouse, though none came in. Not even the carolers entered the shop, though they chanced a stop. They soon changed their mind when they promptly received a glare from Snowfall that they collectively agreed was far colder than the winter in which they walked.

Noon came and went, the ponies in the street thinning away as the day wore on. Finally, around two in the afternoon, Snowdash approached her employer’s desk.

“Snowfall,” she said, “I finished everything you wanted me to do today.”

Snowfall Frost peered at her clerk over her spectacles. “Have you sorted the inventory and their corresponding files?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Have you copied those letters?”

“Each dot and cross, ma’am.”

“Have you cleaned your station?”

“Twice, ma’am.”

Snowfall raised an eyebrow. One good thing about Hearth’s Warming, she had to admit, was that it made her clerk work harder and faster. Even if it was so she could go home early.

“Then I suppose you wish to have tomorrow off as a reward?” Snowfall inquired.

“Yes, ma’am, please.”

Snowfall Frost gave a huff through her nose. “Fine, if you must. But you better not be late the day after.”

“Sweet!” Snowdash exclaimed, her wings fluttering in excitement, before she caught herself and continued in a much more professional timbre, “Uh, I mean, of course, ma’am.” With that, the pegasus pulled on her worn down coat and rushed out the door. Throwing herself down the sidewalk, she let her hooves touch down, sliding along the ice-covered stone to the cheers and laughter of foals before taking to the air again and shooting off toward the schoolhouse.

Snowfall Frost finished her day alone, in the waning light of evening. As she locked her door, the street lighters began lighting their lamps, the streets’' growing, soft glow lazily combating the spreading darkness as evening fell into night.

The alchemist stopped by her usual tavern for her usual meal, then traveled her usual way home. The only thing unusual about it was the overabundance of mingling ponies, all of which stepped out of Snowfall's way—which was usual—lest they catch whatever cold had frozen over the mare’s heart.

I believe a digression is in order to speak briefly about Snowfall’s place of residence. A dreary two-story abode, it had once belonged to Miracle, the unicorn having it moreso as a permanent place to stay when not traveling and selling their alchemical wares. Snowfall Frost, who for the majority of her professional life split the massive house with her partner, was now its sole inhabitant. She knew every part of the house like the back of her hoof. The floor, chandelier, stairwell, every nook and cranny and speck of dust was not unknown to Snowfall Frost. So, one cannot help but feel surprised when even Snowfall Frost herself found herself confounded by a strange abnormality she found in her door knocker.

She first noticed from afar, at the entrance to her yard. A soft, blue glow appeared to shine from the knocker, which in turn had appeared to change shape. What used to be a very obvious likeness of a griffin, now held a more equine facade. As Snowfall stepped closer to the knocker, a small part of her mind made a very chilling fact known to her:

She recognized the face that now resided in the knocker.

The closer she drew, the more she was certain of this fact. It was not until she had reached her door, however, that she could finally put a name to the face she saw.

“Miracle…?” she breathed, voice nearly failing her.

Even as she said it, she could hardly believe it. But there it was, Miracle’s face in place of the knocker, perfectly recognizable to the mare who knew her best.

The soft, white mane flowed as if stirred by the slightest breeze, though no wind was blowing. Her light blue coat, the color of brilliant ice in life, now held a glow of the sickliest sort in the light of its own luminescence. The sharp, light pink eyes regarded Snowfall in the way Miracle always had, giving her fellow unicorn the friendliest look that ever graced her features--which wasn’t saying much, if all honesty can be applied.

As Snowfall took in each detail of this bizarre phenomenon, she felt a deep, primal fear rise up in her chest. Her mind, likewise, was unable to offer anything more than what she was seeing was wrong. As such, she could only blink at the sight, whereupon when her eyes opened once more, she was greeted with none other than the griffin that had previously occupied the knocker. Snowfall frowned at the metal, a snort escaping her nose before she set to unlocking the door, disregarding the frightening encounter as nothing more than a trick of the eye.

The door’s echo reverberated throughout every crevice of the massive house, its size more akin to that of Town Hall than the surrounding houses. With a simple spell, the small mansion gained light as every other candle was suddenly alight with its own glow. And by every other candle, I mean the candles between the lit ones were shorter by a single night’s use, Snowfall having used those the night previous. She preferred the semi-darkness that came with only lighting half of her candles, and felt no need to light them all when she could see just fine with only half of them lit—not to mention the money she saved in doing so.

She hung her hat and went up the stairwell, which was large enough to drive a carriage through. In fact, this night, Snowfall was sure she saw, in the flickering light of the candles, a caravan coming down the stairs toward her. None other than Miracle’s caravan, no less. Alas, this apparition was not to last, either, as by the time Snowfall stopped to ponder the strange sight, it, too, had vanished.

“Pah!” she spat to herself, continuing on her way to her main chamber.

Though she would not have admitted it, Snowfall Frost found herself a bit paranoid this night. She found herself glancing at every dark corner, every flickering shadow that turned out to be her own. She even considered lighting the rest of the candles, then shook off the thought as ridiculous when there was clearly nothing hiding in the wavering darkness. She checked the closet, the bathroom, under her bed, everywhere she could think, but found nothing else.

Another snort escaped her, this time at her own frustration. Taking herself as simply going rather mad, she lit her measly fire and sat back in her favorite chair, watching the flames flicker, the smoke rise into the chimney, the bell above the mantle softly swing—

Snowfall Frost froze at the gently swinging piece of metal. Mounted to the wall, it would have served as a signal, once upon a time, of visitors, as its string tail ended right next to the front door. Its connecting spring, likewise, would have violently shaken the bell at the slightest pull of the string at the door—Snowfall had seen it do as much, and even considered removing it due to its sheer obnoxiousness. So the way it swung now, as if somepony were moving the very bell itself, puzzled Snowfall.

That is, until she startled at its sudden ringing. At the same time, her clock struck midnight, its chimes joining the solitary bell in a dire duet. As it continued, Snowfall observed, with increasing alarm, that she could hear more bells, and it struck her that every bell in her house was now ringing, the ding-dong of each strike of midnight from her clock creating a cacophonous sort of chorus the likes of which Snowfall had never heard, nor wanted to hear again.

Finally, the sounds ceased, the silence leaving Snowfall’s ears ringing. Before she could take a breath to calm herself, her ear flicked, bringing her attention to her bedchamber door. A series of whinnies, followed by the shaking of chains, made itself known to her. She ignored the sounds and she returned her attention to her fireplace, doing her best to ignore both the sounds and her rising fear as she realized the noises were steadily getting closer.

What she could not ignore, however, was the abrupt appearance of a pale, large horse as it reared up through her doorway--that is, it phased through her door completely. The uninvited figure was soon joined by three more, then a fifth, then a sixth, then a seventh. Snowfall clung to the forelegs of her chair in the hopes of keeping herself from falling out of it in her shock. The horses, which seemed to hold the very cold of winter within them, swirled about her door wildly, letting out whinnies and cries that chilled Snowfall to her very soul before they arranged themselves in an arch around her door. It was then she observed the seven snow-colored horses each wore a chain wrapped around its chest, the seven collective chains reaching taut behind them through to the other side of Snowfall Frost’s bedchamber door. The light purple unicorn felt her heart ready to burst out of her chest as she braced for what she might see coming through her door.

Slowly, the chains slackened, and a hoof appeared, stepping through her door. A chain wrapped around its fetlock led to one horse, and a second hoof accompanying the first sported a similar chain leading to another. A face phased through her door, the horn of the appearing unicorn locked similarly in its own chain, leading to the horse situated in the middle of the group. As Snowfall once again recognized the face of the figure slowly revealing itself to her, the remaining four chains’ source made themselves known to her: two were wrapped around either back fetlock, the remaining two wrapped tightly around the waist of the apparition before her.

Finally, stood at her doorway was the very same pony whose face she had seen in the knocker, and she looked upon her now-seven-years-dead partner with a shock that threatened to turn into that of barely-held sanity.

Still, though Snowfall very clearly saw who was standing before her, she could not bring herself to say the name. Instead, she asked, for lack of better words at the moment, “Who...who are you? Why are you here?”

The apparition’s eyes did not move from their target, the glazed-over irises reflecting an ominous glow, yet appearing to see Snowfall all the same. “Ask me...who I was…” It spoke with a voice that seemed not a part of its own body, seeming instead to carry about on an unseen breeze as cold as the horses it was chained to.

Snowfall Frost swallowed hard, and attempted to snap back in the hopes of deflecting her own fear. “Who were you, then?”

One of the horses snorted, a puff of wintery air escaping its nostrils before the spector replied, “When I was alive...I was your partner...Miracle the Marvelous and Magnificent.”

Hearing the pretentious title once sported by her work partner coming from said partner's mouth, in said partner's voice, only solidified what Snowfall did not want to accept. Still, she tried to feign a level head, and started, "You still haven't answered my second question. Why are you here?"

"We have a lot to discuss, Snowfall Frost," the ghost replied. "Not much time to do it, either."

"Well you may as well get on with it," Snowfall grumbled. "Are you able to join me by the fire?"

"I'm able," Miracle drawled. She stepped toward the remaining chair, the wintery horses chuffing and neighing as she moved, rearing up themselves. Such fuss caused Miracle's hooves to occasionally stop short before reaching the ground, having reached that chain's length. She stepped forward all the same, the collective movement of both herself and the horses causing her to look much like a broken marionette, her steps rising and falling, sometimes landing on the floor with plenty of slack, sometimes stopping a foot above the ground. But she managed all the same, as if she'd been doing it all her life, and sat down in the chair opposite Snowfall Frost by the fire.

"Why do you doubt me…?" Miracle observed as she settled. "Can't you see that this is no form of trickery? There are no tricks up my sleeve these days, Snowfall Frost."

"Yes, and you said that many a time in your life, oh Marvelous and Magnificent Miracle." Snowfall, though she tried to make it seem otherwise, felt her defenses slipping, and once more tried to outwardly explain the apparition.

"You're probably some old illusion left in this house for me to find. How long did it take you to do this, hmm? Oh, don't tell me: your very death was faked all so this little trick could be pulled off this very ni—"

She was silenced as a chilling force pushed her back in her chair, a terrible screech ripping through the air surrounding her. Miracle rose from the chair, lifted by the rattling chains as the phantom horses pawed at the above air, their own squeals and harsh whinnies accenting Miracle's own.

Completely paralyzed, Snowfall fell to the ground, and could only cover her face as an uncontrollable shaking seized her body. Through the dying cries of the horses, Miracle’s voice boomed:

"Do you believe in me or not, Snowfall Frost?!"

"I-I...I do!" Snowfall stammered, unable to fight her terror and unable to deny it any longer. "But why are you here?! Why now?!"

"You ask me that as if I left you alone all these seven years," came Miracle's reply, and Snowfall felt a chill of a different sort creep up her spine, and she uncovered her face out of pure curiosity rather than lack of fright.

"What...what do you mean?" Snowfall Frost shook.

"Everypony who dies is destined to walk among the places they built for themselves in life," Miracle explained. "In my heart, I never went beyond our alchemy workshop and this very house. As such, I cannot leave, and must look upon the world that I chose not to reach...from the very place where I kept myself all my life…" her voice shook in a harrowing cry of self-loathing and pity.

"But...why are you tethered to these...these monsters?" Snowfall asked with a quivering jaw.

Miracle's head rose as if to observe the creatures. "They are the embodiment of the cold I held within my heart all my life. I formed them myself, nurtured them to maturity. I willingly tied them to myself. I willingly wore them, and now willingly wear them." Her glazed eyes fell back to Snowfall Frost. "Do you not recognize them? Do you not know what they are?"

Snowfall Frost gulped. She had been trying to deny their title ever since she saw them, but could no longer do such a thing.

"A-are they not...Windigos?" she asked tremulously. At the breathing of the name, the horses seemed to inch closer to Snowfall, as if responding to a master's call.

"That indeed they are," Miracle confirmed. "Each one formed over the time of my life of shutting others out and refusing their splendid company, turning my back on those whom I could have lent an ear...a hoof...time—oh, all the times!" With a strangled gasp, her eyes snapped to Snowfall Frost. "And we were one in the same, were we not, Snowfall?"

Snowfall's heart leapt at the implication. "D-do you m...mean to say…?"

"Your own Windigos were this large and this many seven years ago," Miracle remarked. "You’ve nurtured and grown them since then. I have seen them for myself. I don't think you wish to fathom how large and numerous they are, Snowfall Frost…"

Snowfall Frost felt a cold breeze stir her mane, and she shivered at the air that felt like a breath over her shoulder. Eyes wide with fear, she slowly glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the rest of the room behind her filled to bursting with Windigos of exuberant size, chains connecting them to her fetlocks and waist.

“Miracle, please!” Snowfall begged. “Tell me you came to say more than just that!”

“I did,” Miracle replied tritely. “I have kept myself busy these past seven years, Snowfall. I have traveled far and wide within the spiritual world, and have created a chance for you. A chance to avoid my fate entirely.”

Snowfall’s eyes widened at the prospect. “A chance? What kind of chance?”

“You will be visited by three Spirits,” Miracle promised. “Only through them will you be able to see this chance to fulfillment.”

Snowfall’s face faltered. “Are...are you sure this is the only way?”

“The only way,” Miracle enforced. “Now listen carefully, I don’t have much time. The first will come tomorrow morning, at the stroke of one.”

“Why do they not come all at once?” questioned Snowfall.

“The second,” Miracle continued, ignoring Frost's question, “will come the next night, no later than the first.”

“But how long will each visit take?” Snowfall persisted.

“The third will come the night after, once the bells have finished announcing midnight,” Miracle finished. “Don’t try to look for me after that, Snowfall Frost; and I hope, for your sake, that we never meet again.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the Windigos began moving, surging upward as a unit and lifting Miracle with them. As they floated lazily toward the window, Miracle managed to gesture for Snowfall to follow. The unicorn did as she asked, eyeing the Windigos that seemed to get more and more restless the closer they got to the window. As she approached, the window opened on its own, and Snowfall felt her heart thunder as she heard the increasing volume of voices crying out to the night air as it swung outward.

Fearfully, her steps faltered, Miracle observing her with dead eyes before she looked to the window herself, the Windigos rising and falling, sending her body into a disturbing sort of undulation. Finally, as if overcome by the cries she heard, Miracle let out her own wail, the Windigos crying out a collective whinny before rising and diving out of the window, dragging Miracle with them.

Suddenly compelled, Snowfall reached after her friend, the window sill stopping her from falling and donning her own Windigos too early. She felt her heart ready to burst from her chest, and looked about wildly as she found the source of the keening.

Windigos of all shapes, sizes, and numbers swirled about the area, bobbing and weaving between houses and down the streets. Each sported a chain, and each chain was connected to a pony. Many had one or two, others three or four. One pony, a stallion Snowfall felt a pull of familiarity towards, sported a chain about his neck that led to a large Windigo swirling him around a weary mare trudging across the icy street, a foal strapped to her chest. He cried out to her, lamenting his sorrow at his inability to help the mare.

Just as Snowfall felt her heart ready to bleed for the phantoms, the fog suddenly converged upon them. Likewise, their physical manifestations began to thin, and Snowfall was unable to tell if the fog had swallowed them, or if they themselves had become the very fog that surrounded the town this Hearth’s Warming Eve.

Slowly, then all at once, the voices ceased, leaving Snowfall Frost with nothing but her own shuddering breaths and drumming heartbeat as she stared out into the thick, murky night. Shakily, she drew the window shut, stepping toward her bed as exhaustion overcame her body unbidden. Instantly, she collapsed onto her bed, and fell asleep.
> Chapter 2: The First Spirit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowfall Frost awoke with a jerk. The night’s events still fresh in her mind, she rose from her position at once, her eyes immediately finding her clock.


12:51


She felt her heart sink, remembering Miracle’s words. Finding the idea of busying herself more appealing than simply lying in wait, she got up and rekindled the fire that had died while she slept. She lost herself in the flickering fire for a moment, the echoes of ghostly wails haunting her ears.

More out of curiosity than anything, she looked back to her window, finding she could see the neighboring rooftop, the previous fog having dissipated. She pulled herself toward the sill, gazing out at the night that was now peaceful despite the chaos she had previously perceived. Out in the street, a single lamp remained lit, illuminating the house it guarded and the street for only a small area before the rest of the town was swallowed by the darkness of the dead of night.

Snowfall’s ear twitched when the fire gave a particularly harsh snap, and she hesitated before turning to check on it, half-expecting to see her unknown visitor sitting in her fireside chair. When she saw nothing, she looked back to the street, where she blinked in surprise at the sudden intensity with which the street lamp was now glowing. She stared at the steadily-growing light of the little fire within its glass frame, as if it were heralding the arrival of some important being.

A moment later, Snowfall Frost realized it may have been doing just that.

A small movement caught her eye from the house door the lamp stood before. Without disturbing the door itself, a hoof stepped through it, a pony following close behind.

An earth pony mare stepped from the house, eyes to the cobblestone sidewalk as if in thought. Her mane was done up in twin braids that hung on either side of her head, a winter bonnet securely tied under her chin. The dress she wore was an old-fashioned one, yet belonged perfectly in the season of Hearth’s Warming. One may have even said nothing was out of place about the mare, and Snowfall may have agreed with them, had it not been for the singular fact that this mare did not cast a shadow.

Indeed, even as she got closer to the street lamp, which in turn grew brighter as she approached, the light’s rays seemed to dance through her figure, brushing the stone below. Just as Snowfall began to grapple with the odd sight, the mare stopped directly under the streetlamp, raised her head, and turned it in Snowfall’s direction. Snowfall’s eyes widened as the mare’s piercing gaze locked with her own, and Snowfall felt as if her very soul were being scrutinized.

Snowfall Frost barely had time to feel her own shock before her clock rang out with a singular ding-dong. She broke the chilling stare, eyes instead flying to her clock.


1:00


Snowfall swallowed, her eyes returning to the figure in the street, only to find she had disappeared. She felt her already tremulous heart leap to her throat, and wildly scanned the area to try and find the mare.

“Lookin’ fer somepony?”

Snowfall could have died right then and there. She gave a shout as she startled, leaping to the side away from where the voice had suddenly appeared. She crashed into the small table sat in the corner, knocking it over and landing painfully between its legs.

She looked up to find, with crooked spectacles, the very same mare from under the streetlamp. The mare regarded Snowfall with a peaceful expression, finding neither humor nor remorse in the display she had innately caused. Standing between the fireplace and the window, the mare stepped closer to Snowfall, dress lightly flowing in a breeze Snowfall could not sense. In her panicked, heightened state, Snowfall noticed her visitors' hooves did not seem to touch the ground, but instead stopped an inch above it. Still, she walked, giving quite an impressive illusion of organic movement.

Swallowing, Snowfall managed, “Are you the first Spirit I was told about?”

“That Ah am,” she responded with a thick country accent. “Ah am the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past.” The Spirit offered a hoof to Snowfall, who—after several attempts to pick herself up—accepted.

“Do you always scare the life out of your visitors?” Snowfall quipped.

“Are you really one to question the ways of the Spirits?” The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Snowfall gulped. “No, I, uh…I didn’t mean to offend.”

The Spirit smirked, letting out a chuckle from her fun at Snowfall’s expense. Her fear subsided enough for her to regain both her composure and her words.

“I must be honest,” Snowfall confessed. “I don’t entirely know why we must go to the past. Everypony who can speak can recite the history of the holiday from memory.”

“Well, then,” the Ghost replied, “‘Sa good thing we ain’t goin’ to Hearth’s Warming’s past.” She stepped over to the window, which rose up without so much as a waved hoof from the Spirit.

“Then what past are we to travel to?” Snowfall inquired.

The Spirit smiled. “Yours.”

Before Snowfall could react to such a statement, the Spirit bent its head toward its flank, where a coiled rope sat wound. Rearing up, the rope whipped up and around, the lasso forming and flaring with ease, before the Spirit snapped it forward. Snowfall Frost braced to be slapped by the rope, only to find it pass through her forelegs and fasten itself about her middle.

With a foal-like gleam in the Spirit’s eyes, it leapt through the window, Snowfall letting out a cry of terror as the lasso snapped taut and pulled her out the window behind the Spirit.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing!” The Spirit called back. “I ain’t dropped a pony yet!”

“Yet?!” Snowfall Frost returned. The Spirit galloped upward, dragging Snowfall Frost behind it. Fearfully, yet unable to fight the steep trajectory, Snowfall grappled for the leading rope as they approached the cloud cover, breaking through the suspended precipitation.

All at once, Snowfall felt her head swim in a sudden vertigo, seeing they were now no longer going in an upwards direction. Instead, after passing through the clouds in a straight path, she found herself looking down upon a little town that was instantaneously familiar to her.

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past slowed to a trot as they approached the ground, the two touching down upon a cobblestone road that led directly to its main gate.

Snowfall felt a stirring in her chest the likes of which she had not experienced in years. She gazed upon the little road, the little town that she would know anywhere.

“This…this can’t be,” she breathed. “I…this is my hometown.” Her breath caught in her throat, gaining the Spirit’s attention.

“Ya alright, sugarcube?” the Spirit teased.

“Fine,” Snowfall squeaked out, hiding her tear with a scratch of the cheek. “I don’t recall the last time I thought about this place.”

“Guess that means it’s tahme for a refresher,” the Spirit chuckled.

A clattering of wooden wheels made Snowfall whirl around, her eyes lighting upon a stallion pulling a cart filled with nearly a dozen foals, all giggling cheerfully as the stallion galloped into the little town. With a shout of joy, Snowfall called out to the stallion, only for him to ignore her as they approached.

“They can’t hear ya,” explained the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past. “They’re only reflections of what was, nothing more.”

Snowfall understood, eyes alight in a way that appeared foreign on her so-long pinched face. Each face she saw was one she recognized, and she called out each name, galloping beside the cart until she saw the face that made her stop, both verbally and physically.

A little unicorn filly say in a dress made by her mother, laughing and singing along with her friends, her purple and teal mane whipping about in the chill breeze that threatened to yank away her shallow cap. Snowfall Frost stared at her younger self as she sped away in the cart, the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past catching up to her.

“Ain’t it amazin’ how one pony can change over time?” the Spirit asked.

Snowfall Frost did not respond.

“Maybe we should catch up and see what those youngin’s are up to,” the Spirit suggested. At Snowfall’s hollow nod, the world around them seemed to bend and stretch. The scene rushed past them, and Snowfall Frost watched in awe as the little town where she spent her earliest years of childhood whirled past her faster than she could comprehend it.

The two rushed toward the old schoolhouse, and Snowfall cringed as the doors blew open, and they sped inside, the scene jerking to the side and sending them down the right hall and through the second door on the left. It was a path Snowfall knew by heart, and was one she frankly wished she had forgotten.

The schoolhouse room blurred into clarity, leaving Snowfall with a brief moment of dizziness as the world came to a grinding halt. The Spirit did not ask if Snowfall recognized the room, and Snowfall made no indication that she did. Such a thing was made obvious when excited chatter approached the door.It opened, and the excited foals rushed in, plopping a box overflowing with Hearth’s Warming decorations onto the teacher’s desk. The younger Snowfall smoothed out a piece of paper.

“Okay,” she beamed, “if we wanna get the whole school in two hours, we need to split into teams.

Snowfall chuckled as her younger self gave out the instructions, her eyes falling to one colt that was smaller than the rest of them.

“What about me, sissy?” asked the amethyst colt with gray hair once Snowfall had finished giving out teams, the duos rushing off to their assigned rooms.

“You’re with me, Blizzard!” the younger Snowfall replied happily, the younger colt’s face lighting up at the news.

As they got to work, Snowfall couldn’t stop staring at the little colt, her younger brother eagerly helping the little Snowfall Frost as they tried their best to reach high enough to put as much tinsel around the room as they could.

“That Blizzard Gale seems mighty excited to be with his big sister,” the Spirit observed, her voice ever so slightly strained.

“He was,” Snowfall responded. “No matter what, he wanted to spend time with me. Even in death, all he wanted was for me to be there.”

“And…did he have any foals?” the Spirit pried, though it already knew the answer.

“Two,” Snowfall answered. “Two daughters. He passed soon after the second was born, about ten years ago.”

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past gave the mare a sympathetic smile, but was unable to offer condolences before a deep gray magical aura surrounded the door and opened it. In walked a unicorn stallion with a deep gray coat and an even darker mane. His face bore a cold that made Snowfall Frost shiver, before an icy realization overcame her.

Was this how others saw her?

“What in Equestria’s name are you two doing?” the stallion grumbled in a smooth, impenetrable voice.

His sudden presence made the two foals stop, before little Snowfall looked up at the stallion with the widest smile she could muster.

“We’re decorating for Hearth’s Warming, Professor!” she exclaimed, presenting one of the decorations–a star-shaped ornament–to the stallion.

The stallion “humphed”, taking the ornament in his own magic and lifting it to his face. After a moment, the ornament was thrown down, making Snowfall–both young and old–flinch.

“Why would you waste your time on something so insignificant as Hearth’s Warming?” he questioned.

“B-but, it’s not!” Snowfall protested. “It’s so much fun! And important, too!”

The stallion scoffed. “Nothing in this world is both fun and important. Something as insignificant as this holiday should not even be a thought in your mind. All it does is keep you away from your studies and make you closer to making nothing of yourself.”

Snowfall’s little face fell. “But…but…”

“The smartest thing you can do,” the stallion said, leaning down close to the filly, “is forget these trite niceties and do something useful with your life before you become an unfocused, irresponsible foal for the rest of your life.” With his quip done, he stood, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

Blizzard Gale looked up at his distraught big sister. “Snowfall, don’t listen to him. He just doesn't know how to have any fun.”

Little Snowfall’s eyes looked up, following where her teacher had gone, a light somewhere deep inside her eyes struggling to stay alight. Finally, she looked at her little brother and managed a smile.

“Yeah,” she replied half-heartedly. “Let’s finish decorating.”

As they continued, the Spirit looked to the older Snowfall Frost, who held the same look in her eyes as her younger self. “Sometimes things that are said to us at such a young age stick with us forever.”

Snowfall could only numbly nod. “I never realized this was where I began thinking like that.”

The Spirit smiled again. “How about we look at another Hearth’s Warming?”

Snowfall nodded, and the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming past put a hoof to her shoulder, and at once the world began to change.

The schoolhouse gained an unfocused state, the walls and floor around Snowfall and the Spirit morphing and expanding until it sharpened back into focus, Snowfall left speechless as she stared up at a figure walking along the wall on the other side of the large bakery. A lanky earth pony, he held a clipboard in his hoof, a pencil bobbing in his mouth as he counted the inventory.

“Oh, goodness!” Snowfall exclaimed, a grin lighting up her face, momentarily forgetting the heartbreak she had experienced. “I can’t believe it. Mr. Figgypudding, just as he was twenty years ago!”

No sooner had she said it, the clock above the stallion chimed 6, and his eyes lit up as he made a final mark in his list.

“Alright, you two!” he called over his shoulder as he put the clipboard down. “Drop everything! It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve, and we have preparations to make!”

Snowfall beamed at the remark, before starling as the younger her passed right through her and into the space. Following close behind was a pink earth pony with a mauve mane, both laughing brightly as they worked together to shove aside tables and place table-sat items on their respective shelves.

Snowfall gasped in delight. “And Sugar Flake—oh, I haven’t seen her in ages!”

Mr. Figgypudding busied himself with closing the shop in the more official sense, handling the business while his employees handled the decorating, Snowfall grabbing three brooms at once in her magic and sweeping the floor, Sugar Flake wiping down the tables and beginning to pull out the neatly creased table linens.

The younger Snowfall and her fellow coworker had just finished lining the tables with the bright white linens and holly when the cooks arrived. Greeting them joyously, Mr. and Mrs. Figgypudding, along with their two apprentices, assisted the cooks in setting the tables, filling them to almost overflowing with the glorious meal fit for a royal court. Teas, cakes, punches, puddings, and an array of delicacies were arranged about the tables, before Mr. Figgypudding declared all was well, and sent the two apprentices on their way to prepare themselves for the party about to take place.

As the sun set over the horizon, ponies from all over the little town gathered in the bakery, the room growing warmer by the minute simply with the presences that made themselves known. As they trotted in, Snowfall named nearly all of them. The innkeeper, the librarian, the shopkeep, the farmer and his new wife. Even the cellist, who immediately stayed within the background as she warmed up her instrument, was not lost to Snowfall’s eyes, and was named all the same.

“A dance, if you would!” Mr. Figgypudding called. The cellist nodded gladly, flourishing her bow and beginning an upbeat tune. Introducing the first dance of the evening was none other than Mr. Figgypudding and Mrs. Figgypudding. The two complimented each other both in appearance and in movement, as if fate itself had smiled upon the pairing that was the yellow and orange husband and the blue and pink wife. The two fell in step so well together that they appeared to float above the wooden floor, the very air of the dance carrying them about the room to the stamps of time provided by the other ponies present. Snowfall herself watched the wondrous phenomenon as if it were the first time she had witnessed it, not even realizing when her own hooves stomped the floorboards beneath her, falling in time with the echoes of the past she found herself in.

As the music picked up, so did the movements of the hosts. Though they were joined on all sides by other couples partaking in the dance, the world seemed to only have eyes for Mr. and Mrs. Figgypudding, fluid motions picking up in time with the music until they themselves seemed to be a force of nature all on their own. The impossibly fast music was only matched by their impossibly fast movements, the two spinning and stepping around each other as the music wound up to its climax, before ending in a singular, wondrous chord, whereupon a pair of stallions behind the cellist had to grab the gray mare before she collapsed to the floor. Stomps of applause erupted from every pony present, the cellist composing herself enough to bow, down a glass of water, and begin a more comfortable selection to allow conversation as all took a break for fellowship.

Snowfall Frost found herself laughing rather joyously at the conversations being had, sometimes remembering the spoken lines so well that she uttered them in the same manner as the original speaker. The Spirit next to her smiled warmly at the light that seemed to now pour from every fiber of Snowfall Frost’s being. At once, the cellist having gained a second wind, a tune was uplifted, and the alchemist chuckled like a foal as ponies took their positions to begin dancing with their partners. Snowfall busied herself with moving alongside her younger self as she moved and twisted with a young stallion who was also partnerless.

She only faltered in her emotions for a moment when she felt the Spirit’s presence move away from her. Snowfall found the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past mere meters away, simply joining in the lovely dance being had by the farmer and his wife. Her eyes were alight with emotions similar to Snowfall’s own as she seemed to blend beautifully with the two who could not see her, simultaneously appearing out of place and right at home with the perfect pair. Snowfall held a brief moment of wondering as she briefly recalled having seen the two dancing on opposite sides of a room, not even close enough to touch, before the two had suddenly announced their marriage. She found déjà vu in the thought that this was their first time truly dancing with the other.

Her smile returning, Snowfall Frost pranced about as she followed her younger self. As the crowd moved, she followed them, until she reached the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past, whereupon she pulled the Spirit away from the infatuated duo and started anew the steps to the dance, the Spirit chuckling as they danced, falling in place with the crowd as the song carried out to its end.

On and on the night went, Snowfall Frost watching and reliving the night as if she had never left the scene. As the clock struck the hour prior to midnight, the guests began their goodbyes and meandered out of the workshop. Snowfall watched her younger self bid others goodnight, and turned back to the Spirit, her elation nearly leaving her breathless.

“Ah see ya had a good time,” the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past observed. 

“You seem surprised,” Snowfall returned breathlessly.

The Spirit grinned wryly. “Ah reckon you could say Ah am. Figgypudding spent all those bits on the meal, and you didn’t gain anything in return for the help ya gave.”

“We’ll, such a thing didn’t matter!” Snowfall happily declared, as if the Spirit could be pronounced insane for implying such a thing. “His happiness building up our own was enough to make it through the entire season, and not once did he make us feel in…inferior…” Unease snuck into her voice, silencing her.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout there, sugarcube?” the Spirit questioned.

“Nothing,” Snowfall waved off. “I was just…thinking about my clerk.”

The Spirit watched Snowfall’s face, smiling to itself when it found the first traces of compassion Snowfall seemed to express for her poor employee. Still, she felt the second Spirit’s time drawing close, and knew better than to keep her waiting.

“Come on,” the Spirit insisted, “let’s see another Hearth’s Warming.”

Snowfall agreed, her spirit now more subdued. The Spirit took Snowfall’s hoof and led her outside, the scene brightening as they approached the door. Upon exiting, they found themselves not on the stone streets of the little town, but on a snowy hill right outside it.

Snowfall’s heart fell. She recognized this scene, as well. She trudged up the hill without the Spirit’s bidding, arriving at the back of her younger self, who look upon another with sorrowful eyes.

A golden stallion with orange mane and bright blue eyes faced her younger self. His wiry beard and mane were matched only by his spectacles, large and round perched upon his muzzle, wearing a thick cerulean cape that gave him the appearance of an important wizard.

“You cannot be serious, Starbright,” the younger Snowfall pleaded.

“I’m afraid I must be,” the stallion replied. “Our destinies are taking us two different directions, Snowfall Frost. How can we expect to be together when our lives cannot be as parallel as we want them to be?”

“But doesn’t love reach beyond all boundaries?” Snowfall egged on. “Isn’t there any way we can still be together, even if our paths are not perfectly beside each other?” The younger Snowfall’s voice began to gain a desperation that only comes from one about to lose something very dear to them.

“I am afraid not,” Starbright replied. “Make no mistake, my feelings for you have not changed. But if we are both to be happy in this life, we must go our separate ways.”

“But I am happiest with you!” Snowfall declared tearfully.

“And I cannot ask you to give up your best trait to be dragged around by me for all of your days,” Starbright returned. “And I know you cannot ask the same of me. Can you, Snowfall?”

A pause as the unicorn tried to compose herself. “No,” she admitted, “I cannot.”

Starbright’s eyes finally gained their own look of sadness. “Goodbye, Snowfall Frost.” the stallion turned around, levitating a trunk beside him as he made his way down the hill, heading for the train station.

The Snowfall Frost within the scene broke her stoic facade, collapsing into the snow, body trembling under the weight of quiet sobs.

“Please, Spirit,” Snowfall Frost croaked. “No more.”

“There is still more we can see,” the Spirit offered. “These are only echoes of what’s already happened.”

“I am aware of that,” Snowfall Frost quipped. “I’d rather not relive every time my heart has been broken.”

Silence, before the Spirit nodded. “Touché.”

Without another word, the Spirit grabbed its lasso once more, flourishing it as it whipped about in its perfect ring. Wind picked up around the duo, stirring up the surrounding snow. It billowed around them, thickening rapidly until Snowfall could no longer see her hoof in front of her, let alone her grieving past self.

Just as the snow seemed to reach a neverending crescendo of white, it died down, dissipating before flurrying out of existence. Snowfall blinked, surprised to find herself back in her bedchambers.

The Spirit stepped toward the window. “Wait, Spirit!” Snowfall called out. At its pause, she asked, “Where will you go now?”

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past gave Snowfall a patient smile, as if simply parting from a friend. “There are others who need a reminder of the past every now and again, ‘specially on Hearth’s Warming. I follow the wind, and go to those it takes me to.”

Snowfall felt several questions rise in her mind, but knew none would receive an answer as she simply nodded.

The Spirit’s smiled deepened. “I would suggest thinkin’ over what ya’ve seen, and rest up. The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present will be comin’ soon, and you’re gonna need all the energy you can get for her.” Without any further words, nor waiting for a reply from Snowfall Frost, the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Past trotted up and through the window, which promptly closed upon her leaving.

Snowfall stared only a moment, the whispers of her past echoing through her mind. Overcome with an odd mix of longing nostalgia and exhaustion, she trudged to her bed, and promptly collapsed.
> Chapter 3: The Second Spirit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowfall Frost’s eyes flew open, the stroke of one startling her awake. Remembering her expected visitor, she rose at once, eyeing her clock as it began moving into the first few precious seconds of one in the morning.

She moved to her window, expecting to see another apparition greet her past the pane, sighing in what was almost alleviation. Her fear shot through her once again at the sound of a joyous, bubbly giggle. She faced her room, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Another snigger brought her attention to her bedchamber door, and she noticed under the jam a radiant light beaming into her otherwise darkened room.

Another peal of laughter came from somewhere outside, and Snowfall knew deep within herself that the visitor—the second Spirit, no doubt—would not leave until its task had been completed.

Snowfall pushed out a sigh, pulling up whatever preparedness she had within her—which felt like little to none, mind you—and approached her door.

It groaned with the likeness of a pony rising from the dead, and Snowfall heard the laughter only get louder now that there was no longer a barrier between her and her visitor.

The light radiating from the first floor of her house lit up the walls in a way Snowfall was unfamiliar with; and she found herself marveling for a moment at the color of the walls in this newfound illumination.

There was another joyful peel of laughter, a whooping holler, and then her visitor called up to her:

“Come on down, silly! Don'tcha wanna see all the decorations?”

Snowfall had to fight down the smile trying to work its way into her face, the voice calling out to her containing so much joy in the invitation she had to physically keep herself from expressing any outward notion to having received the contagion. Still, she pulled herself to the staircase, each candle alight and adorning their sconces with a wonderful flickering light that exuded a warmth from every cranny.

The laughter picked up again as she began her descent, eyeing the garland and holly that now embellished her staircase. Thick red ribbon intertwined with the green swooping and falling perfectly into place. Snowfall briefly wondered how long the Spirit had been in her house unbeknownst to herself to have the time to lay out the decorations so meticulously.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, she paused at the sight before her.

Wrapped boxes of all shapes and sizes were piled one on top of the other in the center of the foyer. Intermingled with the gifts were bowls of punch and dishes cakes, pies, and puddings of all flavors, styles, and combinations. Sitting atop the pile, which stood nearly ten meters high, was a bright pink earth pony twirling about in the light she seemed to exude.

The earth pony sang out a note, leaping without looking from her precarious stage and sliding down the mountain she had apparently made, stopping muzzle-to-muzzle in front of Snowfall Frost.

“Hiya, there, Frosty!”

Snowfall Frost took a startled step back, scrambling to compose herself. “Am…am I speaking to the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present?”

“You betcha!” the Spirit chirped, erupting once more in a laugh as she danced around the room, her fuzzy yellow robe swishing about as if it were made of the winter wind, tied to her waist with a belt with candy cane stripes. A crown of blue cotton candy adorned her brow, speckled with an assortment of candies.

As the Spirit completed a lap around the pile, Snowfall cleared her throat. “Are you here to show me different places where Hearth’s Warming abounds in the hearts of ponies today?” she asked, attempting to bring focus to the seemingly distracted Spirit.

“Correctamundo!” the Spirit sang, throwing her forelegs out wide, voice trilling and filling the cavernous foyer, echoing to the farthest corner of Snowfall’s house and ringing back with the timbre of church bells.

Snowfall swallowed, intimidated by the Spirit’s never-ending jubilance. As if sensing such emotions, the Spirit gave another hearty chortle. “No need to be scared, silly! You wanna see the magic of the present Hearth’s Warming, dontcha?”

“Em…if that is what you are meant to show me tonight, then I…suppose?”

The Spirit paused a moment, before a tiny giggle shook her shoulders, twinging her mouth upwards in a grin. The little airy shaking hitched, suddenly multiplying tenfold in a laugh that threatened to shake the earth. All at once, the Spirit beamed at Snowfall, grabbing her shoulders.

“Let’s take a look at everything you’re missing out on by locking yourself away, hmm?”

She was not allowed the chance to respond. Snowfall was turned around, hooves unmoving as the world warped around her, stretching and speeding around her, Snowfall and the Spirit moving out her door and onto the lit streets of the town.

They stopped, the world morphing side-to-side now instead of front-to-back. Snowfall watched with slackened jaw as the flustering lights inside the street lamps suddenly sped up, their own internal dances whipping about madly as if shaken by a rambunctious foal. The sky grew lighter faster than Snowfall had ever seen it, and within the span of a minute, the sun breached the horizon, and sent a wondrous light down upon the little town.

The world snapped back into focus, and the Spirit laughed joyfully, dancing about the intermingling ponies walking up and down the street in the light of midday. Snowfall observed every face, finding joy on each one. Carolers filled the air with joyful choruses as others passed, some humming along, others simply smiling at the iconic sounds of Hearth’s Warming. Friends met each other in hugs and happy shouts, merrily wishing each other a Happy Hearth’s Warming before they went about their way again.

Snowfall was pulled along with the Spirit, the two passing the bakery. Inside was a line of ponies so long that a few had the unfortunate experience of having to stand outdoors while orders were filled and passed over the counter.

“Spirit,” Snowfall inquired, “if this holiday is so sacred, why must they continue to work while everypony else does not?”

The Spirit glanced at Snowfall. “Just because today is a holiday doesn’t mean ponies still don’t need things, especially food.” She guided Snowfall’s head so she saw deeper into the bakery. “But look. See how happy the baker and his family is? They’ve turned today into a special day, too.”

“But…why?”

“Because they get to give ponies something special on the most special day of the year: a warm meal.”

Snowfall’s eyes drifted from the warm smiles of the baker, his wife, and their children to the line of ponies standing in wait. Each had rugged clothing, many years old and many in need of a few patches. Even so, each face wore a smile, each voice exuded joy when wishing the family a Happy Hearth’s Warming.

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present gave a hearty chuckle. “And they sure are happy to receive it, too.” She steered Snowfall away from the bakery. “Come on, let’s get to the biggest party in town.”

“What? But that won’t happen until tonight.”

Another giggle. “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to hurry on over.”

This time, the Spirit simply trotted away, singing her own tune and weaving around the ponies of the crowd smoother than a fish in a river. Snowfall attempted to follow in the same manner, until she nearly bumped into a pony—whereupon she realized everypony would simply pass through her—and promptly caught up.

As the two trotted, each step seemed to change the world around them. Ponies appeared to move twice, then thrice as fast as the two walking past them. Snowfall watched blurred grins and voiceless shouts pass her by, ponies leaping from the sidewalk and sliding across black ice. The sky seemed to warp and bob, the sun’s rays breaking through the clouds once or twice before disappearing once again.

The little town darkened, the sun moving steadily fast above the clouds, dusk approaching, then passing, as the town was plunged into the warm darkness of evening.

Snowfall, having marveled at the spectacle of the sky, did not notice the two had arrived at their destination until the Spirit spoke once again.

“Here we a-are!” the Spirit sang, gesturing widely at the large entrance to the foyer of town hall.

Snowfall Frost peered through the glow of the interior lights, spying nearly every pony who lived in the town milling about in their own clustered groups.

She heard a particularly familiar laugh, and her eyes caught through the far-right window Snowdash, Merry, and a third pony she had often seen the two with.

“Why don’t we go inside?” The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present offered.

Numbly, Snowfall nodded, and trotted inside, the Spirit gleefully hopping beside her.

Once inside, Snowfall was nearly overwhelmed by the low murmuring that can only be caused by a multitude of voices piling and building on one another until no distinguishable factor remains between them. Still, she found herself smiling, reminded of a similar chatter from parties of her past.

Out of all going on in front of her, she found herself drawn to the trio she had seen through the window. She allowed her curiosity to trump any objections she may have had, and stepped over to the familiar trio. Snowdash appeared to be speaking vehemently about something, and Snowfall disappointedly could guess what as she approached, coming within earshot.

“I just don’t know how somepony can be like that on Hearth’s Warming,” Snowdash vented aloud. “I’m just glad I don’t live any closer to her than I do. I honestly feel bad for you, Flutterholly. You only live two doors down from her, it’s a wonder she hasn’t rubbed off on you.”

The yellow pegasus in question did not make a sound, did not even seem to acknowledge the prompt. Snowdash waved a hoof in front of the mare’s face. “Hello-o? Equestria to Flutterholly?”

“Huh?” Flutterholly blinked, snapping out of her reverie.

“What’s wrong, Flutterholly?” Snowdash inquired. “You’ve been distracted all evening.”

“Oh, I have?” Flutterholly asked in surprise. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, darling,” Merry assured. “What’s troubling you?”

“Well,” Flutterholly hesitated, then conceded, “Rose Bloom had another dream.”

“She did?” Snowdash questioned.

“Oh, yes,” Flutterholly insisted. “She swears up and down that she saw Apple Rose last night.” At the mention of the mystery mare’s name, Merry’s and Snowdash’s faces fell in sadness and concern.

“I didn’t really know what to say,” Flutterholly admitted. “She’s had so much loss, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her…Part of me knows she knows, but then why is she having these dreams? And it’s always on Hearth’s Warming Eve, and only on Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

“Have you asked her brother?” Merry questioned.

“Oh, no,” Flutterholly shook her head. “He has so much on his plate as it is. The last thing he needs to worry about is his little sister. Even if it’s been two months since he’s seen her.”

Snowfall listened in on the conversation in increasing concern, which began to turn into confusion. How could they bring themselves to a party when they had so much to worry about? When she asked the Spirit such, she received a lighthearted chuckle in response.

“Everypony has things to worry about,” the Spirit explained. “That doesn’t mean you can’t set aside some time to appreciate everything right with the world. If you only focused on what’s wrong, you might just go insane!” She added with a smirk, “Or turn into a big grumpy-pants.”

Snowfall fell quiet, observing the conversation in the corner as it turned to happier subjects. She milled about the main area of town hall, the leftover sounds of conversation and fellowship reaching her ears. The scene exuded a warmth Snowfall found familiar, and with a smile she likened it to that of her own past. She heard a small peal of laughter from the group she walked by, and felt a smile grace her face as a now-unfamiliar desire crept its way into her heart.

Oh, how she wished they could see her. How she longed for their company. She wanted to laugh the night away with these ponies, talking about everything and nothing and all matters in between. She sighed contently, chuckling to herself at the punchline of the joke she leaned in to hear, grinned at the announcement of engagement from across the room, cried out “Here, here!” with the others at the toast to their long happiness.

Having passed each face, many she knew, many she didn’t, she felt herself grow lighter than she had felt in years. She stood by the entrance to a smaller foyer, observing the room as a whole as the record keeper—a white unicorn with a two-toned blue mane—put on another song, filling the room with a peaceful melody that perfectly matched the mood lifted by the wonderful sounds of togetherness in the room.

Snowfall startled from her thoughts as three fillies passed through her legs, the white unicorn, yellow earth pony, and orange pegasus giggling in glee as they chased each other through the crowd, dodging steps and sliding between couples, who did nothing more than chuckle and shake their heads at their antics. Snowfall looked on, feeling the leftover joy of her own foalhood leaking into the sight she saw before her. As the three went, they grabbed the attention of Merry, Flutterholly, and Snowdash; and the former two watched in nostalgia, remembering well times gone past. The latter pegasus kept her watchful eye trained on the younger, and it was only then that Snowfall noticed why.

The little orange pegasus faltered in her steps only a moment, nearly stumbling to a halt. Her breaths heaved a little harder than the other two fillies before her face broke out in a grin once again as they ran back to help their friend keep up. Her incredibly tiny wings buzzed as if to help her run faster, though it was obvious to everypony who looked hard enough that her stamina was running out far quicker than her two friends.

"Come on now, girls," Flutterholly chastised lightly as they passed. Her voice alone worked like magic, and the unicorn and earth pony stopped at once, catching their breath while the pegasus stumbled to catch herself, her legs beginning to quiver.

As the filly gasped for breath, her own body interrupted her as it threw her into a violent coughing fit. Snowdash responded immediately as the foal drew in a harsh breath. She scooped the filly into her forelegs and, true to her name, dashed for the fireplace.

Snowfall felt worry stir her heart as she watched Snowdash hold the filly in her lap just so, taking great care to keep her just close enough to the fire that the foal now sucked down warmer lungfuls of air.

"Scootaluge," Snowdash scolded in a tone not at all serious, "what did I tell you about taking it easy tonight?"

As the filly's attack died down to nothing greater than that of a sudden wheeze, she smiled coyly up at her older sister and replied, "You said don't run outside."

Snowdash gave a little snort through her nose, too jovial at the show of energy from the little filly to be the least bit angry at her momentary lack of care. "You still have to follow the normal rules, too, you know." She tussled the filly's purple mane before pressing their foreheads together, the two lovingly nuzzling each other a moment.

"Is everything alright?" Merry asked as the two elder escorted the two younger over to the pair.

"Yeah, she's okay," Snowdash beamed.

"Carol Belle, Rose Bloom," Flutterholly implored, the unicorn and earth pony looking up when their names were called, respectively, before they both looked at Snowdash.

"We're sorry," they said in unison, looking up at the pegasus earnestly.

The mare gave them a patient smile. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. Having fun is part of what Hearth's Warming is all about." With a resolute nod, she let her little sister go; and without so much as a sway, little Scootaluge joined Rose Bloom and Carol Belle as the three trotted off to another part of the room, chattering in delight about what game they would play next.

"How has she been?" Merry inquired of Snowdash once the fillies were outside of earshot.

Snowdash pondered the question a short moment, giving a slow, optimistic nod. "Better. She's a lot stronger this year."

“That’s good,” Flutterholly smiled. “And…her wings?”

Snowdash hesitated. “They, uh…haven’t grown an inch.” Her sentence disintegrated as she spoke, ending in a choked squeak. She lowered her head, covering her trembling chin while Merry and Flutterholly comforted their friend.

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present frowned in sympathy toward the mare. Reaching into her mane, she pulled out a sprinkle shaker. Snowfall Frost observed the sprinkles within the glass holder were more akin to stardust, each tiny particle holding its own exquisite brilliance as each individual light danced about its partners. The Spirit seemed to float as she approached the trio, and lightly dusted them with the sprinkles. The glowing particles lighted upon their eyes and faces, and at once Snowdash’s tears subsided.

With a clearing of her throat, Snowdash rubbed away her remaining tears, and smiled. “We shouldn’t think about this right now. Let’s enjoy Hearth’s Warming.”

“Yes,” Merry agreed, “tomorrow will worry about itself.”

As the three walked back to their window, lightly chatting with higher spirits, Snowfall’s eyes fell to the Spirit beside her. “What was that?”

The Spirit grinned as it shoved the shaker back into her mane. “Little dashes of joy I’m able to bless ponies with. No pony should be sad on Hearth’s Warming.”

Snowfall inquired. “In all the Hearth’s Warmings I have experienced, why have so never felt your presence?”

The Spirit giggled. “Two reasons, actually. One: you weren’t around me, you were around one of my sisters. Two: only those willing to accept the joy of Hearth’s Warming can receive it.”

Snowfall frowned in thought, feeling a weight of understanding fall on her heart. The three fillies from before trotted to the other side of the room, and Snowfall’s eyes landed on the little pegasus once again.

"Please, Spirit," Snowfall begged, "tell me what ails her."

"Now, why would you want to know that?" The Ghost spoke slowly, cadence like that of a tease flitting from her lips. "Why should you trouble yourself in the affairs of those who are incapable of keeping themselves alive?"

Snowfall Frost cringed, her own words thrown back at her. "But...have they seen no doctor?"

The Spirit of Hearth's Warming Present hummed to itself. "Kinda hard to find a good doctor and get good medicine when you're only paid 15 bits a week."

A chill of horror wormed its way into Snowfall’s chest. “Is there still time to save her?”

The Spirit frowned at the trio, her ears flopping and eyes uncontrollably twitching. “I see two fillies unaccompanied by a third, and a guardian with no pony to guard.”

“No!” Snowfall Frost objected. “Surely there must be a way to help her.”

“If nothing changes for her tonight,” the Spirit insisted grimly, her twitches dying down, “then it is already too late.”

“But…can’t you do something?” Snowfall insisted.

“I am only to tweak emotions and keep spirits alive and high,” the Spirit explained. “Only those alive in the physical plane can help others in the way you’re talking about.”

Snowfall’s heart jumped to her throat, her eyes once again falling to the happy little filly completely oblivious to her quickly-approaching fate.

“Didn’t you mention wanting to bring up your situation to Snowfall?” Flutterholly inquired of Snowdash, Snowfall’s ear perking up at the conversation.

“Yeah…” Snowdash rubbed the back of her head. “Let’s just say…I heard something that changed my mind.”

Once again, Snowfall was reminded of her words, and her heart sank all the further. The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present smiled to herself, feeling a pang of joy knowing Snowfall was finally seeing how much she could affect those around her.

The Spirit decided Snowfall had lamented long enough. “Come on, Frosty! There’s some other ponies I want you to see!”

At once, Snowfall was sped out of the room—that is, the world flew by while she remained stationary. Snowfall could only watch while the Spirit shoved her through the streets of her town, and turned down an alleyway she would never dare to consciously go.

At once, they stopped, Snowfall nearly tipping over at their sudden halting. A fire crackled from a barrel, ponies milling about in the alley. Some sang carols to each other, some chatted, still others laughed at stories of Hearth’s Warmings many years gone.

Snowfall glanced about the space, noticing each pony held the same kind of joy on their face as the others from the party she had just left. Other than the obvious differences in physical appearance, Snowfall could not find a trace of difference in the warmth flowing from each heart.

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present dug out her sprinkle shaker again, trotting over to each individual and dusting their faces with the sparkling joy. Laughter bubbled and abounded in the gathering, the scene seeming to gain a brightness Snowfall was unable to describe.

Once the Spirit had finished her task, she beamed at Snowfall, taking her by the hoof and twirling her around, the world blurring out of focus before snapping back again; and Snowfall found herself squinting against the pallor light of a hospital hallway. Again, Snowfall was pushed down the tile, and the two passed rooms sporting all kinds of ponies. Old ponies nearing the end of life smiled, sharing obvious final moments with loved ones. Other, younger ponies appeared to be fighting their own internal battles, smiling in the face of their unseen adversaries.

Snowfall looked upon each face. Those who walked the conscious world did so happily. Those who walked the sleeping world did so peacefully. Not a frown, nor crease of the brow, was found upon any face. The Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present pranced about the halls, its mane holding its sprinkle shaker, scattering stardust to every individual they passed.

Satisfied with the joy she had spread, the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present’s mane sucked the shaker back into its curls, and Snowfall followed her out to the icy street.

“So,” the Spirit chirped, “Hearth’s Warming is almost over, it’s getting close to midnight.”

“I…suppose it is…” Snowfall trailed, wading deep within her own thoughts.

Snowfall’s ear flicked downward, and she startled at the snarl that had suddenly made itself known to her. Her eyes found the bottom of the Spirit’s robes, and she saw movement that could not have been made by the Spirit itself shuffle the yellow fabric.

“What was that?” Snowfall floundered. “I could have sworn I saw something move under your robes.”

She was met with a flat look from the Spirit, its mane slowly losing its curl, as if deflating, before falling altogether in a curtain of deep pink. “You did,” the Spirit croaked.

At once, she pulled her robes aside, and Snowfall gasped in horror at the sight that greeted her.

Two foals—a filly and a colt—crouched clinging to the Spirit’s foreleg. Sunken and dirty, their features were warped and aged. The filly’s bright orange mane was disheveled, her bright yellow coat matted with dirt, her horn cracked and nearly broken in two. The colt’s deep brown mane fared much the same, his coat so covered in oil and grease Snowfall was unable to tell if the off-white she perceived were his true color. His wings, much like the filly’s horn, were shredded, only one or two feathers remaining on either appendage.

Their blue and brown eyes—what should have been alight with life on the young faces—were sunken and dull, yet exuded an anger so deep-set Snowfall wondered if she herself had personally offended the two creatures.

“What…who are they?”

The Spirit looked upon the two as if she had known them her whole life. “This colt is the Destruction of Innocence. This filly is Covetedness. They follow in my shadow, and many feel their touch.” The Spirit’s eyes, now hanging with bags, rose to Snowfall’s. “You’ve known them many, many times, Frosty.”

The voice that used to be filled with joy was now as cold and hard as the biting winter that hosted the wondrous holiday. The Spirit’s mouth twisted in a grin of perversion to the glee it had held not so long ago.

“Their goal is to win internal battles and claim victory in wars of the Soul. Avoid them, Snowfall Frost, and take care that they don’t claim you…”

Snowfall Frost swallowed, nodding at the warning. No sooner had she done so, the ground beneath her violently shook. A bell resounded, and the Spirit cried out, her body rearing up and dissipating in a cloud of ash and mist. Destruction of Innocence and Covetedness were left without shelter, and lashed out at the only pony they saw.

Snowfall scrambled backwards as the foals threw themselves at her, snarling like dogs. Just before they would have collided with her face, they too disappeared in a puff of smoke, and silence reigned.

Snowfall looked around for any sort of presence, only for her eyes to land on a looming figure in the corner of the darkness.

It took a step toward her.
> Chapter 4: The Final Spirit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowfall trembled as the figure withdrew itself from the wall, the shadows themselves seeming to fall onto its figure and form its cloak. The hood it wore moved as it seemed to raise its eyes at Snowfall Frost. A long, slender horn protruded from its hood, a dark muzzle peeking out from its shadows. From deep within the veiling shadows of its hood, two cold, icy blue, slitted eyes returned Snowfall’s gaze.

Legs trembling, Snowfall knelt as the figure approached, reverently bowing her head so as to avoid the chilling gaze. “Am…am I in the presence of The Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come?”

She received no answer.

Snowfall Frost swallowed the lump rising in her throat, and gathered what little courage she had to bring her eyes up to the Spirit, which now loomed over her, its piercing gaze cutting through to her very soul.

“Spirit,” Snowfall gulped, “I must confess I fear you more than any of the other Spirits I’ve seen tonight. But I know…I know your visit is for my own good…s-so…I am ready to follow you wherever you so deem to lead me.” Snowfall forced her legs into motion, and brought herself to as precarious a stance as was possible.

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come watched her rise, but offered no indication of having heard her. Its eyes seemed to slowly pulse with a radiating light, and regarded her coldly.

Still, Snowfall insisted, “I…I am ready. Please, Spirit, lead on.”

With an audible snap, the Spirit unfurled a feathery pair of wings. At its command, the world around Snowfall shrank away, overcome by the shadows from every corner and crevice. Snowfall raised a foreleg to shield herself from the tearing wind she suddenly found herself surrounded by, and at once looked about when she saw the Spirit seemed to have disappeared.

Snowfall startled as right before her a city grew from the darkness building by building, shifting and creaking into place before darkness seeped away into the cracks of cobblestone she suddenly found beneath her hooves. The remaining wisps of shadow swirled, stretched, and morphed until they were the shapes of ponies, before these, too, gained depth and movement, painting a scene of a street with scarce milling-about ponies.

A chill breathed down Snowfall’s left cheek, and she twisted to find the Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come standing behind her. An ornate, dark hoof rose from the cloak and pointed to Snowfall’s right. Upon following its direction, Snowfall’s eyes fell to a small group of ponies dressed in business garb. Their features unfamiliar to Snowfall, she approached, leaning in to listen to their quiet conversation.

“I don’t really know what exactly happened, nor do I care!” chuckled a mint-green unicorn with a mint and white mane. “I just know she’s dead.”

“Well, when did it happen?” asked a blue unicorn with a cobalt and grey mane.

“Sometime on Hearth’s Warming,” replied the first.

“I heard she died the same way as her old partner,” piped up a cream-colored earth pony with blue and pink mane.

“Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest,” mumbled a yellow earth pony with a curly orange mane. “She was rich, right? Where’s all her money going?”

“Next of kin, more than likely,” shrugged the blue unicorn. “It’s not going to any of us, I’m sure.”

The small group shared a laugh in the joke. “Will anypony even pay for the funeral? I don’t know of anypony who would actually want to go.”

“I might go…” confessed the mint unicorn, much to the surprise of her friends; to which they gained clarity when she added, “If there’s a snack bar.”

More uproarious laughter rose from the group, stunning Snowfall with appall. The ponies before they bid each other farewell with giggles upon their lips.

Before Snowfall could question the Spirit about the bizarre conversation she had witnessed, shadows flurried about her vision, obscuring the town around her before quickly falling away again to reveal a pauper’s living room. 

Snowfall looked about the space in confusion, eyes landing on a table lined neatly with folded sheets, outfits, bed curtains, and linens. A stallion trotted in, carrying a clipboard with a pencil gripped in between his teeth.

He placed it down. “How much do you think we’ll get for the curtains?”

“Window or bed?” came a voice from the other room.

“Bed.”

“Ha! Who knows? No telling how much she paid for them to begin with.”

“I still can’t believe you actually took them while she was laying there,” said the stallion, looking over his shoulder toward his partner.

The partner scoffed. “Why not? She doesn’t need them anymore. And you need to be willing to do the uncouth to go far in this business.”

The stallion barked out a laugh. “There’s uncouth, and then there’s uncalled for!”

The laugh was returned from the other room. “You should have seen what she put others through! You wanna talk about uncalled for—HA!”

Snowfall gawked at the scene playing out before her, disbelief nearly paralyzing her very thoughts. “Spirit,” she spoke dryly, “I understand…whoever this pony was lived a dismal life and died an even more dismal death. The life I’ve lived thus far is on much the same path, and my death will be much the same if I do not change.”

The Spirit’s eyes seemed to narrow, and it snapped open its wings. From them snuck about several tendrils of shadow, crawling and stretching and twisting until no more light pierced Snowfall’s vision. Snowfall shook, a pale beam breaking through the blackness and lighting upon a wooden floor, crawling across the dust until it climbed upon a bare four-post bed with nothing more than a plain sheet draping it. The light slid across the sheet, and Snowfall felt faint at what was revealed to her, a distressed gasp escaping her being.

A mound lay upon the bed, covered head to hoof by the dreary sheet, obscuring the body from the prying eyes of those who may look upon it. No pony—not a friend, not a child, nor parent, nor sibling, nor spouse—stood or sat beside the body. No pony felt the need to give it company in death, nor did anypony feel the need to care for their belongings, the bedchamber dull, dark, and empty.

The Spirit stretched out a hoof, gliding across the floor and coming to rest with its hoof directly over the head of the pony—a unicorn, if anything could be implied by the pointy bump where the pony’s head would be.

“Spirit, please,” Snowfall breathed, “let’s leave this place. I believe I’ve seen enough.”

The Spirit did not move, it’s hoof seeming to stretch closer to the sheet, its implication obvious.

“I know what it is you want me to do,” Snowfall nearly cried. “But I can’t. Believe me, I know what it is you want me to know, and I won’t forget. Please, let us go.”

The Spirit did not move. Snowfall swallowed against a rising lump of fearful dread, and looked back down upon the figure, legs beginning their trembling once again.

“If…if there is anypony moved by this mare’s death, please…” Snowfall begged, “please show them to me.”

The Spirit’s brow seem to crease in anger, and shadows flew at Snowfall, enveloping her at once, brushing her legs and tugging at her mane and coat.

The shadows stretched, forming a long space before melting away into walls, and floor, and a ceiling. With a flap, the darkness converged into a single shape, and a grey pegasus with a blonde mane hovered about the hall, golden eyes looking about nervously, unable to uniformly focus on a single spot.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and the mare rushed to the brown earth pony that had entered.

“How’d it go?” she asked at once. “Are we going to be okay?”

She received no immediate response, the stallion’s blue eyes alight with something nearly unreadable, a self-suppressed glee he almost could not hide.

“Well?” the mare insisted. “Is it good news or bad news?”

“Em…bad news, I suppose,” the stallion admitted.

The mare landed in shock and worry. “Oh no…are we…are we going to…”

“Now now, my dear,” the stallion soothed, taking her hooves in his. “It’s not that bad.”

“A-are you sure?” she questioned. “Did she extend the deadline?”

“The due date is dead,” the stallion said, the spark lighting up his eyes. “As is she.”

The mare gasped in delight, her hooves flying to her mouth as she immediately chastised herself for such a reaction. “The debt wasn’t transferred to anypony?”

“It will be,” continued the stallion with a smile. “But by then, we’ll have everything. And even if we don’t, no pony can be as cold-hearted as she. We can sleep easy tonight, my dear.”

The mare shouted in joy, embracing the stallion. He returned it with a laugh of his own, the two spinning in delight in their hallway.

“Please, Spirit!” Snowfall begged. “Isn’t there anypony connected to death in mourning?”

The Spirit seemed to pause, before quickly plunging into shadow, darkness whipping around Snowfall as she fought to shield her eyes and maintain her bearings.

The scene around Snowfall dissolved into mist, the ghostly vapors twisting and turning, morphing into the shapes of ponies before gaining depth. They solidified, the darkness rushing away to leave Snowfall Frost in a small living room. In stark contrast to the happy determination she had left, her ears perked to the sound of quiet weeping.

For a moment, she was relieved the Ghost had found somepony who would mourn the one under the sheet, only to stop when she saw who it was that was crying. Her stomach sank with the dread that filled it, her heart forming a lump in her throat.

Huddled together on the tattered couch sat four ponies, two mares and two fillies, holding each other tight through their tears. The dreadful air that filled the space between them chilled Snowfall to her very core. Leaning on each other, Rose Bloom and Carol Belle quietly wept in each other’s forelegs; their guardians, Merry and Flutterholly, silently wiped tears from their own cheeks as they tried to comfort their little sisters.

Snowfall Frost tore her eyes away from the depressing sight with immense difficulty, setting her sights upon the Spirit of Hearth's Warmings Yet to Come. She opened her mouth to ask the dreaded question that plagued her mind, only for her voice to catch in her throat, entangling itself in the lump her heart had formed.

The Spirit regarded her silently, its cold gaze piercing her from beneath its hood. Slowly, a dark hoof appeared from the cloak, raising and pointing it to a tiny staircase leading to the second floor of the tiny abode.

Snowfall gulped, her stomach sinking to her hooves and effectively weighing them down to the point where she felt she would be unable to move them even if she wanted to. Not wanting to see what her mind was already telling her, she instead opted to ask:

"Where is—" she was cut off by the opening door, the biting wind swirling flurries of gray snow into the small house, following the hooves of the pony who had made her way home.

Snowdash’s eyes swept across the room, glistening from the outside chill as a strained smile pained her face. She took in the mournful faces of the mares and fillies making up the room, and met them all with a joy so plainly and terribly dying.

"Come on, now," she spoke softly, her cheery voice carrying about the room emptily, as if the pegasus that stood before them were no more than a ghost, herself. "There won't be any of that on Hearth's Warming Eve."

She regarded the four with the warmth of a fading ember in the midst of snow. As she stepped toward the tiny staircase, the glow within her flickered, and she swayed suddenly, catching herself on the wall. Flutterholly, letting go of Rose Bloom, made to meet with her at the base of the stairs, only to be stopped by a held-up hoof, the smile returning at half its first strength.

Snowdash regained her composure, fragile as it was, and trudged up the stairs. Snowfall glanced at the pointed hoof of the Spirit, stepping silently, unseen, after her clerk.

Snowdash came to a stop at the first door in the hall, hesitating. Pulling up the last of her resolve, she pushed open the cracked door to face what she was so afraid to see. She forced herself forward, each hoof seeming as heavy as each of Miracle's chains. With each step, her face and composure melted, her hooves stumbling until she collapsed onto the edge of the bed, clinging to the little hoof resting upon the chest that no longer held a breath.

Snowfall watched on in astonishment, her own heart clenching at the wail that clawed its way out of the other mare’s throat. Snowdash gasped as if she were drowning, her body trembling under the weight of her own heartbreak. She allowed herself only a moment of weeping, her hoof traveling to the still, peaceful face of the filly. She planted a kiss on the forehead that would nevermore crinkle in a frown, nevermore crease in sorrow, nevermore furrow in pain.

She pulled herself up, her smile returning, her warmth shimmering deep beneath the ice that had formed from the events of the day. "Don't worry, Scootaluge," she promised, "we'll have just as good a Hearth's Warming as we always do."

Snowdash looked upon the little figure a final time, wiped the remaining tears from her eyes, and left the dismal room. Snowfall allowed the mare to pass through her, feeling a deadly numbness as nothing now kept her from a full view of the little pegasus in the bed. Snowfall nearly forgot how to breathe, her own tears blurring the peaceful smile she observed on the filly’s face.

Finally, she closed her eyes, pulling her gaze away. She felt the chill of the presence of the Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come over her shoulder, and inquired, “Spirit…please…tell me who that pony was. Tell me what pony is connected to all the others you have shown me. Who, in their death, has affected them in this way? Who has this kind of influence?”

She opened dripping eyes to look at the Spirit. Its robes stretched down and across the floor, enveloping the room from floor to ceiling in its shadows, before it, too, seemed to blur out of existence.

Snowfall shivered, a flurry of white flakes passing over her eyes. With their motion, the shadows were pulled, chased away by the whipping wind and unfolding scene before her. Snowfall found herself following the moving curtain of shadow, the movement–and her gaze–ending upon a lonely slab of stone, marking a grave. Snowfall once more felt a trembling within her legs, a sickening dread like she had never before experienced overtaking every other emotion she could possibly feel.

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come rose from behind the grave, glaring down at Snowfall Frost.

Snowfall Frost forced herself to gaze down at the tombstone she stood before, seeing the name it bore was covered in a layer of snow. Shock numbing her legs, she fell to her haunches, tears beginning anew in her eyes as she brought them up to the Spirit.

“Spirit,” she called over the howling wind, “before I reveal the name on this stone, please…tell me…” she gasped, “are the things I have seen as set in stone as the writing upon this grave, or are they simply the shadows of what could occur? Please, tell me these can be changed!”

The only response the Spirit gave was an unfurling of its wings. With it, the wind’s direction was changed, and it attacked the grave, blowing away the snow to reveal the name of the pony it sat above:


Snowfall Frost


With a frightened cry, Snowfall Frost took in the carving. “No, Spirit! Was that…was that me under the sheet?! Please, Spirit!”

The Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come offered no consolation, its icy eyes pulsing with a deadly luminescence.

Snowfall Frost threw herself over the tombstone, gripping the cloak of the Spirit. “Spirit, I beg of you! I am not the pony I was! I will keep Hearth’s Warming in my heart all the year long. I will live in the Past, Present, and Future all the rest of my days. Please tell me, by doing so, I can change what I have seen. Please tell me that by changing myself I will change what is written on this stone!”

She removed her face from the Spirit’s cloak, bringing her gaze to its face. The Spirit of Hearth’s Warmings Yet to Come looked upon her with eyes no longer slit. Its gaze having softened, a warm smile rose upon its muzzle.

Snowfall braced against the onslaught of wind whipping about her, the shadows of the Spirit’s robes enveloping her once again. The Spirit’s robes morphed in her hooves, and Snowfall watched its face fade into the darkness, the shadows taking on a familiar pattern in the midst of their deepness.

All at once, the shadows melted away, and Snowfall was met with the sight of her own bed curtains.
> Chapter 5: The Next Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowfall Frost froze, the light of morning seeping in and lighting up the vibrant colors of her bed curtains, the hoof rest of her bed digging into her stomach in the same manner as the dreary stone from before. No sooner had a breath of relief escaped her than her hooves slipped, and with a shout she met the floor with her cheek.

Groaning out her sudden startle of pain, she picked herself up and rubbed her face, becoming more aware of the fact of morning. A pause passed through her head, until at once a shock passed through her very soul, and she arose with a shout, throwing herself to the window and flinging open the shutters.

Her eyes passed to and fro across the street before her. Holly garland hung from the streetlamps, and ribbons and wreaths made up the doors of houses, strings of lights weaving back and forth across rooftops and chimneys and windows.

“It sure looks like Hearth’s Warming,” Snowfall muttered to herself. Laughter grabbed her attention from below, and she looked down upon a small grouping of foals running along the sidewalk.

“Hello!” she called to them. One foal, a young pegasus colt, looked up to her. “What day is it?”

The eggshell colt’s brow eyes peeked out from under his cap. “Hearth’s Warming!” he called up innocently.

Snowfall pulled in a sharp breath. “It’s Hearth’s Warming. It’s really Hearth’s Warming! All of that happened in one night–of course it did, the Spirits can do whatever they want!” She beamed down at the colt. “Thank you, kind lad! And Happy Hearth’s Warming!”

“You as well, miss!” the colt called out before galloping along to catch up with his friends.

“There’s still time,” Snowfall breathed. “There’s still time!”

In a sudden burst of energetic motion, she pulled her window shut, prancing about her room with shouts of joy rivaled only by the Spirit of Hearth’s Warming Present.

“I’ll do it!” she declared to no pony. “I’ll live in the Past, Present, and Future all year long. For the rest of my life–oh, this wonderful, wonderful day!”

She changed into her best suit, intent on running across town to the party that would take place that night, only to realize it was still morning. “I…what am I to do until then?! I can hardly wait! Oh, how long has it been since I’ve been to a party–much less a Hearth’s Warming party?! Do I bring gifts? I don’t know! Hah! Will it matter?”

With a flare of her magic, each and every candle in her house was lit, chasing away every shadow and highlighting every curve and edge therein. “Well, look at that! The walls really are that color!”

So great was her overflowing jubilee, she nearly sent herself down the stairs via the bannister, only to hold herself back when it occurred to her the pain that may be felt should she slip and tumble. She nearly tripped anyway, with the speed with which she ran down them. Snatching her tophat from the coat rack, she unceremoniously plopped it onto her head, straightened it, snuffed every candle, and threw open her door. She had nearly taken the first step down her front steps, when she turned to her door knocker.

“I promise, Miracle,” she vowed. “You won’t hear one more scowl of genuine nature from me. Thank you for the chance you gave me, and I pray it gives you some peace.” With a solemn nod, she allowed her smile to return, and leapt from her porch.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming!” she greeted each pony she passed, many returning the salutation without realizing who gave it until they looked to properly address who had spoken. Upon seeing their greeter, they were promptly silenced by shock, to which Snowfall was unaware, as she had already trotted a ways down the street to hail the next pony.

Approximately halfway into the town, she spied a familiar purple unicorn–the same that had come into her warehouse yesterday asking for a donation.

“Excuse me, Starlight Shimmer?” she called, stopping the unicorn and her dragon in their steady trot.

“Snowfall Frost?” Starlight Shimmer returned with shock.

“Yes,” Snowfall nodded, humility rising upon her face. “I…I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”

“That’s…quite alright,” Starlight Shimmer gave an uneasy smile, taken aback by the sudden total change in the mare’s demeanor.

Snowfall Frost gave an apologetically kind smile. “If you wouldn’t mind…” she leaned in, whispering in the other mare’s ear. Seafood Dinner, close enough to be in earshot, gave a surprised shout.

“My goodness!” Starlight Shimmer exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am,” Snowfall nodded. “Not a bit less, either!” She met the stunned expressions with a warm smile. “Come by my office tomorrow, and we’ll work out the finer details.”

Starlight Shimmer and Seafood Dinner gave a numb nod, and Snowfall Frost beamed, bidding them goodbye and prancing along the street once more, sending the greetings of the season left and right.

The rest of the day went on in much the same way. Snowfall Frost may have walked about the town ten times and not have cared in the slightest. Nor did the others she passed, many of which had seen her more than once by the time day turned to evening, and many gathered themselves together to attend the fellowship within town hall.

Snowfall herself, overcome by a small bout of nervousness, kept herself from going right away, and instead waited until many had already gathered within.

Snowfall Frost pulled on the best serious expression she could, realizing she had nearly forgotten how to do so. She thrust open the doors, a small gust of wind announcing her entrance. Ponies near the entrance—many of which had not seen her in the previous hours—upon looking to see who had disturbed the interior air, stopped whatever they were doing at once the moment their gazes fell on Snowfall Frost. The next second was a uniform turning away from her presence, the ponies wondering what reasons she had for coming at this hour, yet not wishing to incur whatever wrath she may have held.

Snowfall, for her part, pulled out her pocket watch under the guise of checking the time to hide a wave of glee that threatened to break her facade. Composing herself once more, she replaced the watch and scanned the room, immediately finding her clerk in the corner by the window with her two friends.

She exuded as much of an air of no-nonsense as she could muster, stepping towards her employee. Snowdash’s eyes appeared to gain size with every step she took, until they were as large as dinner plates by the time Snowfall Frost was right in front of her.

"I wish to speak with you outside," she implored curtly.

Snowdash sucked in a strained breath, something in her countenance breaking. "Please," she breathed, "please not tonight, Snowfall."

"Auntie, please," Merry joined in the effort.

Snowfall Frost aimed a glare at her niece, her heart skipping a beat as she did so. Her niece quieted, and she raised an eyebrow to Snowdash. "Outside. Now."

At once, the unicorn turned, heading for the door. Behind her, Snowdash looked back at her friends, each of them giving her a worried look, before she swallowed and followed her employer. From the other room, three fillies galloped in, giggling happily. The little orange pegasus in the group glanced over at the movement of familiar color, her steps slowing when she saw the retreating tail of rainbow being led out by her sister’s employer.

Outside, Snowdash stepped down after Snowfall Frost into the cold cobblestone walkway. Snowfall stopped a bit to the side—near the very window Snowdash had previously been standing by inside--and faced her clerk.

Again, Snowdash tried to appease the older mare. "Please," she begged, "don't do this, I...I'll come in early tomorrow—I'll come in tonight, I—" she was cut off by a raised hoof from Snowfall, who addressed her with all the seriousness of a priest servicing a funeral.

"Snowdash," she drew out, making the pegasus gulp, "you have made it clear you care about spending the holidays with your friends and family far more than you do about your work." She paused at the rising expression of panic worming its way through Snowdash’s face. "It is for this very reason...that I am giving you a raise."

It was here Snowdash experienced a rare sort of reaction, one that can only come about from a sudden, unexpected turn of events from something not at all intended in the way previously perceived. Such an event tends to leave one trembling from the body's building up of energy in preparation to fight or to flee, only to be stopped short by the mind as it desperately tries to grasp and make sense of the contradictory information it has received. This would, in turn, create an unusual form of confusion that leaves the individual with a physical dizziness, as if their very hooves were unexpectedly swept out from under them as they went about a leisurely stroll.

From this very confusion, Snowdash fought with her two conflicting emotions, and was only able to utter a single syllable.

"...what…?"

Snowfall Frost took a definitive step forward, repeating, "I...am giving you...a raise."

Snowdash's dizziness began to subside, her body realizing she was not in any danger. Still, her mind tried to work through the words, and demanded clarification. "Are...are you...serious?"

Snowfall could not contain her joy any longer, and broke out in the widest grin Snowdash had seen on just about anypony. "Of course I'm serious!" Her resounding chortle made her clerk flinch, snapping her out of her mental fog.

Now, Snowdash’s eyes widened for a different reason. But before she could think to express a proper reaction of any kind, Snowfall Frost outwardly contemplated, "Now, you do about twice the work as the average pony paid on your salary...so why don't we simply double it? Yes, that works, and that is final." With a smile like that of a foal on Hearth's Warming, Snowfall Frost decreed, "Beginning from the next time you come in to work, your salary is now doubled."

Snowdash’s jaw fell in an excusably uncouth manner, the mare’s dizziness once again returning. She fell to her haunches as she lost feeling in her legs for reasons unrelated to the cold. Her voice attempted to express her gratitude, but was only capable of escaping in broken syllables and malformed noises.

Snowfall smiled warmly, her secondary objective reminding her of its existence. "Oh! And…" she stepped closer to her clerk, voice dropping to a more secret volume, "I would like to make arrangements for that little sister of yours."

Snowdash’s jaw slackened once more, tears springing to the mare’s eyes and threatening to fall onto her cheeks.

“Come now,” Snowfall Frost sympathized in a cheerful tone. “There won’t be any of that on Hearth’s Warming Eve.” Snowdash hesitated, nodding and pulling herself together as Snowfall added, “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Snowdash sniffed, giving another nod, before she threw her hooves around the unicorn. “Thank you so much!” she cried.

Snowfall, startled by the sudden display of affection, hesitated before returning the gesture. “You’re welcome.” She smiled at the sudden feeling of warmth that began to fill her chest, spreading through her shoulders and legs and filling every part of her body from the tip of her horn to the toes of her hooves.

Finally, the two broke apart, and Snowfall suggested. “Shall we go inside?”

Snowdash rubbed a final tear from her cheek, nodding while a smile beautifully adorned her face. Together, the two trotted back inside, ponies both confused and pleasantly surprised by the smile they found upon Snowfall’s face. Her own warmth seemed to be felt by all others around her, and the attendants graciously went back to their previous conversations.

The mare’s walk was interrupted when Snowdash was bumped, a small figure grabbing onto her foreleg. Scootaluge looked up at her sister with concern, and Snowdash did not hesitate to scoop up the filly, laughing wholeheartedly as she spun, rising into the air, holding Scootaluge close to her chest.

Snowfall watched the exchange, the older pegasus sharing the good news with the younger. Her eyes fell to her niece, and she humbly approached the one she had scorned yesterday’s morn.

“Merry,” she greeted softly.

“A…Auntie…” Merry returned.

Snowfall searched her niece’s eyes, finding a familiarity in them she had tried to fight for so long, and now wanted nothing more than to embrace. “I am…so sorry for my actions yesterday…and for every time before. I’d like to spend more time with you and Carol Belle…if you’ll have me…”

Merry’s eyes widened at the show of kindness from her usually cold-hearted aunt. A small moment of wondering passed through her, and she quickly dismissed it, not caring what may have caused the sudden change, and being perfectly content to embrace it with every part of her being.

As such, she threw her forelegs around her aunt, capturing her in a tight embrace. “Bless me–of course we will! This Hearth’s Warming and every one after!”

Snowfall felt the newfound warmth within her swell, and elated tears dripped down her face as she returned the hug from her niece.

“Merry?” asked a small, unsure voice. Snowfall glanced down, meeting the eyes of her second niece, Merry’s younger sister.

“Oh, Carol Belle!” Merry shouted happily, hooves moving from Snowfall to embrace the youngest unicorn. “Say hello to our auntie, darling!”

“Hello,” Carol Belle greeted, once Merry had let her go.

“Hello, there,” Snowfall Frost returned, pulling her little niece into a tight embrace, unable to contain her joy any longer. “I haven’t seen you since you were just old enough to run.”

Carol Belle gave a nervous little chuckle, and over the filly’s shoulder she saw her oldest niece wipe a tear from her eye.

Snowfall rose from the embrace just as Snowdash landed, carrying her younger sister upon her back. Snowfall crossed to the duo, face nearly in a cramp, but her joy too overwhelming to allow her muscles a break.

“And you must be Scootaluge,” Snowfall Frost grinned, holding out her hoof for the little pegasus. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Scootaluge greeted shyly, shaking Snowfall’s hoof. “You, too.”

A shuffling to Flutterholly grabbed Snowfall’s attention, and she found the eyes of the little earth pony staring up at her in earnest, as if she were holding herself back from saying something she didn’t want others to hear.

Snowfall looked upon the little earth pony, recognition pulsing through her heart as two faces–one from her distant past, the other from much, much closer–made themselves known to her. She smiled at the filly, stooping a bit to her level. “You are Rose Bloom, correct?”

The little filly hesitated, then gave a shy nod. Snowfall smiled kindly at her, and brought her muzzle to Rose Bloom’s ear.

“If you would do me a favor: tell your sister ‘thank you’ for me the next time you see her.”

Rose Bloom startled, a sharp intake of air leaving her slack-jawed. Snowfall returned the look with a smile, humming a warm chuckle. The filly’s shock was nearly instantly replaced with joy, and a bright smile broke out on her face. Snowfall gave the foal a wink in time for a dance to be queued by the record holder.

Dances were had, conversations rose and fell. Snowfall shared many a tale of Hearth’s Warmings Past, shared in the merry fellowship of the Present, and joined in the hopes and dreams of the wishes for the Future.

Far too soon, the party began to draw to a close. Ponies began milling out the door, offering the host their thanks and wishing each other a Happy Hearth’s Warming.

Snowfall accompanied her nieces, clerk, and friends to the door, where she smiled upon the steadily-falling snow healthily covering the ground and lighting upon those who passed through it.

At once, she felt Snowdash stop. “Oh no…” the mare breathed. “We stayed out too late.”

Snowfall, in confusion, looked in question as to what the mare meant. When she was met with fear from both Snowdash and Scootaluge, she understood the grim implications snow could bring for the two.

Merry and Flutterholly stopped, as well, unsure how to help the two but not willing to leave them behind. With a thoughtful hum, Snowfall looked to the falling snow, and smiled contently.

“Allow me?”

Snowdash’s eyes whipped to Snowfall, and met their earnestness. A brief hesitation passed through her, before she gave a nod.

Snowfall reached out with her magic, and picked up Scootaluge. The little pegasus was transferred to her back, and she smiled at the filly, powering up a spell.

Steadily, the two were surrounded by a red glow, pulsing gently against the cold night. “Are you ready, little one?”

Scootaluge was unable to hide her unease in her eyes, but gave a nod all the same. Snowdash stepped with Snowfall as the unicorn moved out from under the balcony.

Scootaluge braced for the snow as if it would have struck her. The cold that reached for her little frame bounced away, deflected by the blanketing spell Snowfall had cast.

Snowdash watched cautiously, tension slowly fading when she noticed not a single sign of struggle from the filly, who then opened her eyes once she realized the cold could not reach her.

Snowfall looked back as the filly removed her face from her mane, staring in awe at the flakes that brushed and stopped upon her muzzle before melting away in her breath. A small chuckle escaped her, and she reached out, gathering more flakes upon her hooves before her gaze turned upward, and she marveled at the white flakes of frozen precipitation falling like a gift from the heavens.

“It’s like we’re in the stars!” Scootaluge laughed, stretching her hooves to brush as many snowflakes as she could.

Snowfall, hearing a sniffle, pretended to not notice Snowdash wiping joyful tears from her eyes. The older pegasus embraced the younger, still on Snowfall’s back, and planted a loving kiss on her forehead.

Snowfall Frost felt her own warmth pulse, feeling Hearth’s Warming coming to its close. But she knew, for her and for all her new friends, that this was only the beginning.
> Bonus Chapter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It happened nearly a month into the new year, during the coldest part of winter.

Snowfall Frost was burrowed into her covers, when her sleep was interrupted by a brash knocking. Stirred, but not entirely roused, Snowfall glanced at the clock.


2:31


Deciding she had simply dreamt the sound, she allowed herself to drift off again, only to hear it once more, harder this time. Sitting up, she looked around--a bit disoriented, mind you--to try and find where such a noise was coming from. It was then the bell--the very same bell that heralded Miracle’s arrival into her bedchambers--rang once, twice, thrice, then went silent. A horrid thought crossed her mind, and she couldn't help but call out to the silence of her room:

"Miracle? Miracle, is that you?"

She was met with silence. That is, until a different sort of tapping made her blood run cold.

Whatever was making the noise was tapping on her window now. The very window Miracle had disappeared through, the very window where she had been taken to the past. She didn't want to look. What manner of spirit was paying her a visit now of all times?

"Snowfall!" came a desperate hiss from the window. It was a voice Snowfall recognized, and it was certainly no spirit.

Looking to the window, she found Snowdash, face pinched in worry, eyes glistening with tears—though Snowfall was unable to discern if this was from the cold or from whatever had brought the mare to her window at half-past two in the morning.

It was then Snowfall registered the blanketed bundle Snowdash held against her chest, and heard the muffled sounds of a coughing foal.

Instantly, she was up, her magic grabbing hold of the latches and throwing open the window. "What in Equestria are you doing out this early?" she questioned, half-shouting, as she beckoned the pegasus in. Her heart thundered when she heard the coughing, now louder, interrupted only by the desperate intakes of breath, the little filly in the bundle shaking as she attempted to fill her freezing lungs.

"We-we ran out of coal," Snowdash shivered as Snowfall ran to light a fire. "I thought it'd be okay to let it die out and get more in the morning, but now she can't stop!"

Snowfall gestured Snowdash over to the new fire, pulling away part of the blanket so she could observe Scootaluge. The poor filly's eyes were squeezed shut in pain, one foreleg hugging her chest, where no doubt she was experiencing the most agony, the other hoof held against her mouth. At her next cough, Snowfall felt her heart leap to her throat, noticing bits of blood pepper the filly's hoof. In an instant, she pulled toward them a blanket of a thicker sort, with which Snowdash replaced the thinner blanket.

As Snowdash rubbed the foal’s back, moving closer to the fire, Snowfall Frost hurried to her cabinets, plucking out the proper potion book, and got to work on a mild healing tonic. As she worked, she listened to Snowdash's quiet voice as she spoke the best comforts she could to the choking foal.

"It's okay, Scoots," she murmured. "Just try to breathe, okay?"

Snowfall Frost added the ingredients into the pot, quickly measuring the precise amounts. The potion’s color changed to exactly what she needed, before a thought crossed her mind. After checking and cross-checking, she decided her final, extra ingredient would not harm the original recipe, and added a pinch of it.

While she stirred, her ear pricked at Snowdash's breath hiccupping in her throat. The pegasus sniffed, the foal's hacking having not died down even a bit. Snowdash lowered her voice, unaware Snowfall was still within earshot as she spoke the only comfort she could to the filly.

"If it's too much, Scoots," she squeaked, "you just fly away, okay? You fly away as fast as you can. It's okay." The mare sniffed as she began rocking the filly, planting a kiss on the foal's temple.

Snowfall Frost swallowed the lump in her throat, her own tears threatening to fall. She shook her head. She wouldn't allow it. She’d make sure she’d be alright.

Finally, the potion turned to the final green she needed, and she poured out the proper dosage, galloping to the filly. “Give her this,” she commanded her employee.

Snowdash’s eyes widened in surprise, then did as she was told. Coaxing the filly’s hoof away from her mouth, she helped Scootaluge drink the combination during a lull in her coughs. Once she had drinken the concoction, the filly gave another cough, the potion already beginning to work, the filly blinking sleepily as her coughs died down almost immediately. Snowfall watched with concern as Scootaluge fell asleep quicker than she had expected.

Her expectations were at least better than Snowdash’s, whose breath nearly halted as the foal’s attack seemed to cease far too suddenly.

“Sc-Scootaluge?” Snowdash squeaked. The potion fell from her hoof, and she desperately tried to rouse the filly. “Scoots?!”

“It’s okay,” Snowfall reached out, halting Snowdash’s ministrations. “She’s asleep. I added a pinch of sleep-aid to give her some peace, it just worked better than I thought it would.”

The panic in the pegasus mare’s eyes flickered, dying away slas her shoulders slowly relaxed. She pressed an ear to the filly’s mouth, all tension melting from her body once she felt and heard the filly’s breath.

“What was that stuff?” Snowdash asked breathlessly.

“A mild emergency healing tonic,” Snowfall explained. “From the looks of it, her lungs were extremely irritated, which was causing the cough.”

As Snowfall launched into her explanation, Snowdash couldn’t help but stare at the genuine concern she found on the mare’s face. A welcome change of pace from the usual scowl she wore, Snowdash couldn’t help but wonder: “What made you change?”

“Hmm?” Snowfall snapped out of her tirade.

“What…” Snowdash croaked. “You…you changed…what…what happened? You said yourself that you didn’t care whether or not other ponies died, and yet…just now, you…you saved her life, what…?”

Snowfall gave the stammering pegasus a small smile. “Let’s just say…an old friend visited me and helped me change my mind.”

Snowdash gave a chuckle through her nose at the cryptic answer, figuring that was the best answer she would receive to her query. Another rose in her mind, one that had been bothering her for quite some time now. “If, uh…if you don’t mind me asking…”

“Go ahead,” Snowfall encouraged.

Snowdash bit her lip, absentmindedly adjusting her grip on Scootaluge. “What did you say to Rose Bloom on Hearth’s Warming?”

Snowfall’s heart skipped a beat, the events of that fateful night flashing in her mind all in one go. Gulping down the majority of the truth, she answered, “I…heard through the grapevine, um, about her sister.” Snowdash’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open in surprise. “I was just…giving her some encouragement in the matter.” A pang shot through her heart, and she added, “I know what it’s like to lose a sibling.”

Snowdash gave the mare a smile. “Well, thank you for trying to help her.”

Snowfall smiled, taking note of Snowdash’s crestfallen gaze. “Would you mind telling me about her? Uh…Applerose?”

The pegasus looked up at Snowfall, surprised at her interest. “Uh…sure.” Snowdash shuffled in her seat, clearing her throat. “Applerose was a really good friend of mine and Flutterholly and Merry. She, uh…” Snowdash blinked tears out of her eyes. “She loved Hearth’s Warming, and had this thing about saving the traditions of her family and passing them on. She always insisted on wearing her mother’s old dresses during the holidays.” With a chuckle, she added, “Her favorite was this light yellow one with apples all over it, with green lace on the hems. Said it reminded her of every pony in her family.”

Snowfall smiled warmly, unable to shake the image from her mind, lining up far too perfectly with another presence she knew. “How…how did she die?”

Snowdash hesitated, batting away a falling tear. “We aren’t really sure. Rose Bloom swears up and down that she was taken to the spirit world—especially the first Hearth’s Warming after it. We’re pretty sure it’s just the trauma talking.”

“Trauma?” Snowfall asked, immediately regretting the question once it was out.

Snowdash hesitated once more, eyes trained on the fire. “She got really sick around Hearth’s Warming. She had a really bad night, but seemed to bounce back. Even though she could barely stand on her own, she made all of us think she was gonna get better. On Hearth’s Warming, she was even more adamant about sharing stories and holding onto her family’s traditions. She hugged us all tighter than she ever had, and told us she loved us so many times.” Snowdash’s voice trembled with her jaw. “Part of me thinks she had to have known that would be her last day with us.”

Snowfall Frost closed her eyes, the weight of the story threatening to send her to tears, as well.

Snowdash took in a shaky breath. “She said goodbye to all of us when we left, and fell asleep with her brother and sister beside her. The next morning…” Snowdash made a shrugging motion with a raised hoof, eyes blanking, “…she was gone.” With a grimace, she added, “Rose Bloom was the first one to wake up, pressed right up against her chest. She—“ Snowdash pressed a hoof to her muzzle, tears streaming down her face. “She woke up in Applerose’s forelegs, and couldn’t hear her heart beating.”

Snowfall bit her lip. “That…sounds awful. I…I had no idea…”

Attempting to wipe her tears, Snowdash added, “She wouldn’t talk for the first year after that. Then all of a sudden, on Hearth’s Warming morning, she started singing all these old songs Applerose used to sing, and kept saying she saw her the night before. None of us really knew what to think, and we tried to get her some help, but nothing’s changed.”

Frowning, Snowfall Frost suggested, “Maybe…you could look when she does? What if, since she’s so adamant about it…what if she’s right?”

Snowdash blinked. She stared for a moment at Snowfall, before the hints of half of a smile found her face. “Well, if you believe her…maybe I will.”

The pegasus smiled nostalgically down at Scootaluge. “You know, my parents used to say our loved ones never leave us. They stay by our side as spirits until we join them.” She ran a hoof through the little filly’s mane. “I always like to think about that every once in a while.”

Snowfall smiled at the sentiment, her brow creasing as she picked up a small detail. “‘My’?”

Snowdash glanced up at Snowfall curiously.

“You said ‘my parents’, not ‘our parents’.”

The pegasus paused, the observation catching her off guard. She looked down a moment, before nodding to herself and once again meeting Snowfall’s eyes, smiling at the unicorn as if she were peacefully confessing a secret.

Snowfall was expecting a correction of speech, an amendment of sentence, a chastization of the self. She was not expecting to be proven right.

“She’s...not your sister,” Snowfall realized slowly.

Snowdash’s peaceful smile gained a sad undertone. She looked back down to the sleeping filly in her forelegs, allowing Snowfall to grapple with her thoughts.

“Is…” Snowfall tried, “is she your daughter?”

Snowdash hesitated, before answering, “No.”

Snowfall tried to piece together the fractured pieces of information she was being given. “So, then...what is she to you?”

The pegasus’s gaze never left Scootaluge. “That’s...an interesting story.”

The lilac unicorn hesitated, before she smiled at her employee. “Well, I’d love to hear it...if you’re willing to share.”

Snowdash’s stare finally found Snowfall’s, and she returned the smile, though only one side of her mouth turned upward with the notion. “I...haven’t told anypony this before.”

“Oh, you don’t have to if you don’t want--”

“No, it’s fine,” Snowdash interrupted, holding up a hoof. “I trust you to keep a secret. You’re not one to gossip, even before Hearth’s Warming Eve.” Snowfall chuckled warmly, neither taking offence nor holding the reference against her clerk.

Snowdash let out a long sigh through her nose. “Well, it was about...twelve…?” She glanced down at the filly, brow wrinkling in concentration, her exhaustion finally beginning to show through. “Yeah...twelve…

“About twelve years ago, on Hearth’s Warming Eve, I was heading home from a party. We had just finished a round of caroling all around town, and it was almost midnight when I got home.” Snowdash’s gaze rose to Snowfall, and she held tears in her eyes as she continued. “Right when I was about to go in, I just so happened to notice this little box that hadn’t been there before at the entrance of the alleyway…”

Snowfall felt her heart fall, her mind already beginning to fill in some blanks. Snowdash carried on, “It was...just a box. Just...sitting there. I don’t know what told me to look inside, but I did.” Her voice wavered as tears rolled down her cheeks. “And when I opened it...I found a newborn pegasus filly.” Sniffing, she looked back down to Scootaluge, beginning to rock the foal as she slept soundly. “She was so still...she was so cold...I thought she was dead.”

As the clerk continued, Snowfall swallowed against a lump in her throat. “I pick her up, take her inside, wrap her in a blanket, and make a fire. I sat there for hours trying to warm her and wake her up.” Snowdash stared back at Snowfall, face melting in her memories. “I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. I prayed so hard...more than I ever had in my entire life.”

Her breath hiccupped, the mare barely holding back a sob as tears dripped down her face. “And right when I was about to give up, the sun rising on Hearth’s Warming morning...she moves. And she cries. She cries, and she cries...and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life.” Snowdash’s voice dissolved as she began to weep, holding her foal close and burying her face into the little neck as she rocked back and forth, overcome with her memories.

Snowfall’s heart clenched at the sight, and she discreetly wiped away her own tears as Snowdash pulled herself from the filly, trying her hardest to compose herself.

“I thought she’d be fine, but…she’s been sick almost her whole life, and…” Snowdash scrubbed her hoof into her eyes. “The cold brought her to me; and ever since, the cold’s been trying to take her away from me…and I don’t know why…”

Snowfall Frost let her gaze fall to the peacefully sleeping filly. “Maybe…it thinks you took her from it, and it’s still trying to take her…” She gave her eyes to Snowdash. “But I promise…I’ll do everything in my power to help you make sure she stays right here.”

A peaceful smile caressed Snowdash’s face, and the pegasus’s fatigue only seemed to multiply. Concerned for her clerk, Snowfall offered, “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Snowdash hesitated. “No, it’s okay…I…I’m fine, really…”

“Snowdash,” Snowfall Frost insisted, “please, as your friend...get some sleep. Let me watch her tonight.”

“Snowfall,” Snowdash protested weakly, giving the unicorn the best smile she could manage. “I’m fine, really. I’ve been doing this for years, I can…I can handle it…”

To say Snowfall didn’t believe her would have been an understatement. “Then as your employer,” she amended, “I order you to go to sleep. I can watch her just fine for tonight.”

This time, Snowdash hesitated for a different reason. Her head swayed a bit, and her eyes lazily drifted down to the filly she held before floating to the couch against the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I insist,” Snowfall repeated. “Pass her over, and go to sleep.”

The pegasus hesitated only once more, before she nodded, passing a hoof through Scootaluge’s mane. Snowdash gently passed the slumbering filly to her employer. She made sure she was secure in Snowfall’s forelegs before pressing a kiss to the little forehead, wobbling over to the couch, and falling onto it, almost immediately falling asleep.

As if sensing her guardian’s absence, Scootaluge stirred, her brow crinkling as she made a little noise of objection. Snowfall began rocking the foal as Snowdash had, bringing her lips to the child’s ear and quietly shushing her tired protests, lulling her back to sleep.

She glanced at the clock for the first time since her visitors' abrupt arrival:


3:34


She gave a soft sigh, which turned into a yawn. Now with both mare and filly sound asleep, she couldn't help but notice her own fatigue begin to creep back up to her.

Deciding it wouldn't hurt to rest her eyes for a moment, she cast a precautionary barrier spell at the entrance of the fireplace, and let her eyes close.


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"Miss Snowfall?"

Snowfall Frost’s eyes flew open at the sudden, small voice, immediately coming face-to-face with the filly she held in her forelegs.

She lifted her head, removing her chin from her chest and wincing a bit at the strain on the back of her neck. "Hello there," she smiled warmly at the filly. "How are you feeling?"

The filly hesitated a moment as she thought. "Fine," she said with a small nod.

"Feeling better?" Snowfall inquired, offering a more specific question for the sleepy filly to answer.

"Mm-hmm," Scootaluge answered, nodding again. "Where's Snowdash?"

"She's just over there." Snowfall Frost nodded in the direction of her employee, and Scootaluge followed with lazy eyes, landing on her caretaker, sound asleep on the couch.

"Is she okay?" Scootaluge asked, Snowfall getting the sense it was more than just a question regarding physical stature.

"She's alright," the mare smiled. "You gave her a bit of a scare, but she'll be fine now that you are."

Scootaluge seemed to shrink into herself. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Snowfall Frost insisted. "Your sister brought you here because she knew I could help, and I'm always happy to help the both of you."

Silence fell between the two for only a moment, before an idea came to Snowfall. "How about we go get something to drink," she said. "Do you like hot chocolate?"

Scootaluge gazed up at Snowfall Frost. "Can we put peppermint in it?" she asked, peeking out from her own shyness.

"You bet we can," Snowfall replied with a chuckle, lightly tickling the filly. Scootaluge gave a giggle of her own, trying to shimmy out of the blanket.

Snowfall pulled the blanket back around the filly and stood, levitating the little pegasus onto her back. "Ready?" she asked. At Scootaluge's nod, she headed for her bedroom door. On the way out, she glanced at her clock once more:


4:47


Line

"Are you warm enough?" Snowfall Frost asked as she placed the filly in a chair in the downstairs kitchen. She had to admit: it was a tad chilly in the lower floor of the house.

"Mm-hmm," Scootaluge answered, burying her muzzle under the blanket, where the air was warmer.

Snowfall lit the stove, followed by the oven for good measure. Scootaluge watched the older mare in silence, her eyes peeking out curiously over the edge of the blanket.

The two stayed silent as Snowfall worked, mixing the chocolate and adding the peppermint before she poured two mugs and gently passed one to the filly. “Don’t touch it just yet,” Snowfall instructed, “it’s pretty hot.”

She gauged the heat of Scootaluge’s mug with her own, jerking away immediately once the scalding liquid hit her lips. Cringing, she played off, “See?”

Scootaluge couldn’t help but snort. “You’re just as bad as Rainbow Dash.”

“Oho, really?” Snowfall teased with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Scootaluge nodded. “She tried to teach me to not touch the fire by…touching the fire.”

This time, it was Snowfall who snorted. “Well, I suppose she’d rather herself get hurt than you.”

“True,” Scootaluge shrugged. “But still, I think ‘Don’t touch the fire or you’ll burn your hoof off’ works just fine.”

Giving a lighthearted chuckle, Snowfall returned, “Touché.”

Another moment of comfortable silence fell between the two, Snowfall reaching out with her magic to stir Scootaluge’s hot chocolate.

“So…” Snowfall piped up, trying to continue conversation with the foal, “uh, how–”

She was interrupted by a thump over their heads. The two looked up as Snowdash’s voice called out, “Snowfall?!”

“Oh, dear,” Snowfall breathed, trotting to the doorway. “We’re down here, Snowdash!”

A flutter of feathers, a blur of rainbow, and Snowdash appeared right in front of Snowfall Frost. “Is she okay?”

“She’s right in here,” Snowfall assured softly, steering the mare into the kitchen.

At once, an exasperated sigh of relief flew from Snowdash, and she rushed into the room, enveloping Scootaluge in a hug. “Hey, kiddo,” she breathed.

Scootaluge’s head ducked into Snowdash’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I scared you,” the filly mumbled.

“Hey,” Snowdash returned softly, holding the filly’s face in her hooves, “you don’t ever have to apologize for that. You’re getting so much stronger, but you’re still healing. You’re gonna have bad days every once in a while until you’re completely better, okay?”

Scootaluge nodded sadly. “Will the next one be that bad?”

Snowdash’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know, Scoots. But we’re gonna go back to the doctor and see what went wrong, and we’ll get a different medicine, and things should start turning around, okay?”

The filly nodded, swallowing her nervousness. “Okay.”

As Snowdash pulled Scootaluge into another hug, Snowfall offered, “Want some hot cocoa, Snowdash? We kinda snuck down here to make some.”

“Sure,” Snowdash chuckled. She tussled Scootaluge’s mane. “One night with my boss, and suddenly you’re an expert in giving me a heart attack!”

Scootaluge giggled. “I said I was sorry for scaring you!”

“Mm-hmm,” Snowdash hummed, rubbing her nose against Scootaluge’s own.

Snowfall chuckled to herself, her mind presenting her with an idea that grew more and more appealing with every passing moment as she watched the two sisters.

“What is it?” Snowdash asked teasingly.

“Oh, nothing…” Snowfall trailed, swirling her mug. “I was just thinking…this house is, uh…a bit too big for just one pony. I think it could use a couple more residents.” She gave a pointed look to Snowdash as she took another sip.

Snowdash’s eyes widened. “Snowfall, no,” she said, “you’ve done enough for us already.”

“Oh, please, I insist,” Snowfall returned. She gazed out into the hall. “This house was never meant to be this empty…this cold. It…it could use some more life in it.”

A small smile crept up Snowdash’s face. “Okay, but…only if you let me help with rent.”

“The house is paid in full,” Snowdash quipped back. “There is nothing left to pay.”

Snowdash’s shoulders slumped, the mare thinking for a moment before finally a small smile crept up her face. She squeezed Scootaluge, looking down at the little filly. “Well…what do you think, Scoots?”

Scootaluge gave a shy smile, looking up at her older sister. “Okay,” she smiled contently.

Snowdash returned it with a small nod, looking back up at Snowfall Frost.

“Okay.”