The dark brown stallion studies Willow Fall, the rim of his straw hat shadowing his green eyes in the dim of the bar. “I might’ve heard the name, indeed I might’ve. The question is, what’s the mare to you?” The old stallion’s voice is rough, and somehow it reminds Fall of worn-out leather.

“I told you already; I’m looking for her so that I may find my friend, Reg Syllable.” Fall’s voice remains calm, but under the reasonableness roams a beast of frustration. You’ve already drunk four big ones for my loss, old-timer. It’s time I get some bloody answers.

“Funny thing. The fellow who came to me about a week ago told me the same story. Was looking for a friend, he was, not the mare, not as such.” The grey stallion’s eyes shine like jade, hard and cold. “I told the bugger nothing. Why should I treat you any different?” He takes a long sip of his beer, never once taking those emerald eyes off Fall.

Fall blinks a couple of times, just to make his companion believe that he is getting the better of him. “Let me guess: The bugger you talk of was grey like ash and acted like he’d swallowed a bucketfull of the stuff? And his cutie mark was a broken chalk?”

The brown stallion grunts, and a coarse grin spreads on his face. “You’ve met the fellow, then. Ai, he tried acting all high ‘n’ mighty on me, telling how he’s all big professor and whatnot. A typical unicorn, I might say.” The grin melts away into the crinkles of his face. “I told him to go buck himself.”

I only wish I’d been there to witness that. “Don’t mistake one horn for another. I haven’t acted arrogantly towards you, have I?”

“Nope, you haven’t. Makes you a bit proud, doesn’t it?” A mocking smile rises from the gorges of the old stallion’s face.

A slight blush of embarrassment, spiced with anger, colors Fall’s expression. “You’re the one who is mocking me, not the other way round!”

The stallion chuckles, and the voice sounds like he had gravel in his lungs. “Hehheeh, yep, might be I am toying with you a bit. Whatcha gonna do about it, though?”

This is a trap, isn’t it? He is testing me for some reason, trying to agitate me. But why? Fall smiles a forcedly. “How about I buy you another drink and wish that you drown in it?”

More gravelly chuckling. “Nah, the next round’s on me. Oi, Feathers! Bring us a couple more, will ya?” The grey stallion knocks the table with a hoof and looks at the pegasus mare behind the bar, who answers: “Sure thing, Jade!”

Fall furrows his brows. “Jade? Your actual name is Jade?”

“Blah! Just a stupid nickname these youngins like to call me,” answers Jade. “Ya gotta problem with that?”

Fall rolls his eyes. “Stop trying to pick a fight with me; it’s starting to get annoying.”

Jade empties the rest of his drink, and when the glass hits the table, something has changed in his eyes. It’s as if a layer had peeled off them, revealing a speck of sympathy behind. “I’m sorry about that, buddy. I just had to know how easy ya are.”

Fall raises an eyebrow. “Easy? I’m not sure you really know what you mean with th–”

“–easy to ignite, ya fool!” Jade coughs as a few surprised glances turn towards their table. “You have to be careful, you know?” he continues with a calmer voice. “Play it smart and so on.”

The pegasus bartender flies over their table and sets two fresh pints between them. Jade goes for the frosty drink at the moment it hits the wood, but Fall only keeps on frowning at him.

“Can I get anything else for you guys?” asks the mare cheerily. Her wing beats make the beer in Fall’s glass ripple.

“We’re fine thank you,” he says, without taking his eyes of Jade. He continues only after the pegasus has flown on her way. “What do you mean, ‘play it smart’?”

Jade lets out a contented sigh as the cold glass departs his lips. His eyes seem indeed softer now. “How about we begin fresh, lad? Ya seem like an upright colt to me – for an unicorn – so me thinks it’s okay for me to lend you have hoof.” He bends over the table, and lowers his voice. “I’ve met that Chillburn mare alright. Gave her a lift around New Year’s Eve.”

Fall’s gaze lights up instantaneously. “Where did you drive her?”

“Trainstation.”

In one hopeless moment, Fall’s shoulders collapse with his whole form as he almost melts into the floor, only barely staying on his chair. “Oh,” he whispers, the desperation evident in his tone.

Jade chews his lip for a moment, and his eyes study Fall in a new light. “Now, either you're a rising star of the Canterlot Main Theatre or you really want to find that mare. The last time I saw a colt that downstruck was when my nephew got his favourite kite lost in a river. Was a sad day for him, it was.”

Fall’s head looks like it might fall off at any minute. “It’s not the mare I’ve lost, but my best friend. I told you this already.” The noises of the bar fill the silence that settles between the two stallions.

Finally, Jade speaks. “I happen to know where she was heading, ya know.”

Very slowly, Fall’s head rises from the depths of despair. “What?” he whispers.

“I said she mentioned where she was heading. Well, more like I figure that out by myself, but still, I’d pawn my old coach for that hunch.” A smug grin surrounds Jade’s smile.

“Why in the hay didn’t tell me this in the first place!” shouts Fall, spilling some of his beer as his figure is electrified. His behaviour attracts a few more disapproving glances.

“Calm down, lad. I told ya already, I needed to be sure that you’re on honest business with that mare.”

A fine red begins to spread on Falls face along his throat and neck. “I said it a thousand times, It’s not about the mare, it’s about my friend…”

“Ai, that’s what ya keep on telling me. The problem is, I’d be betraying my oath if that was all it took for me to crack my lips.”

“What do you mean?” asks Fall in baffled voice. “What the hay are you on about?”

Jade sighs deeply. “I guess you've passed enough tests. Ya see, this Chillburn was kind of on edge when I met her, about a half a year ago. I reckon she was more than that, even. Frightened to the bone she was, although she kept giggling a bit, too.”

“And?”

Jade stretches back on his chair, apparently entering into a story-telling mode of some sort. “Well, it kind of struck strange to me, that restlessness in her. It was early morning and a New Year’s Day no less, and usually customers are all laid back then. But no, not her; that mare was about to jump out of her coat!”

“So we ended up talking a bit, ya know, about stuff. I did my best to take that edge off her, but no, she’d only sink deeper into the pit when I asked what was the matter with her. Mentioned something about some stallion, she did. Anyway, I took her to the station like she wanted, and dropped her off there. By then she’d calmed down a bit, enough so that she remembered to pay without me having to mention about the fact.”

“I know what you're thinking now. ‘How can I know where she went if that’s all she told me?’ Well, the thing is, just as she was about to go, she made this remark, this kind of weird remark, in my mind. Ya want to hear that remark?” Jade’s grin spreads to his ears.

Fall breathes deeply in and out. “Yes.”

“The last words I heard from those pretty lips was, ‘May the Mother watch over you,’ and then she left.”

For a while, Fall says nothing, but only stares at the those dim emerald eyes. “That doesn’t really mean much to me, but I suppose you’re more than eager to enlighten me.”

“Nah, I just thought to explain. ‘May the Mother watch over you’. A funny thing to say to a stranger, isn’t it? Or it would be, were it not for the fact that it’s a common way to say goodbye in Haytown, where I come from.”

“Haytown?” asks Fall, puzzled. “Where the hay is that?”

Jade’s eyes narrow down. “It’s where it’s always been: About 200 miles East of here, near Baltimare.” Jade takes another sip of his beer, and continues: “I moved from there as a wee little colt, but the lingo never left me. Most like she recognized that and decided to stirr up her own roots, too. I might also mention, she had her native tongue mighty well in check.” He takes another sip to care for his throat.

Fall’s drink, on the other hoof, remains untouched. “I’d hate to doubt your honesty… but to me it seems kind of strange that you would remember one night so vividly after over six months.” He leans closer to Jade, nailing his eyes on him. “Moreover, what does it matter where the mare was from? I need to know where she was going, and more importantly, where she is.”

Jade takes in his starring and doubts like they were nothing to him. “Ain’t ya a clever one, now. True, it might be that she isn’t in Haytown anymore. Frankly I’d be surprised if she was, there ain’t that much to stay for anymore.” Jade’s eyes flicker suddenly. “But mark my words, lad, Haytown was where she was going. How can I know? Because the train she stepped onto was heading East. There ain’t much reason to travel East nowadays except to visit home or get to the seas. And she didn’t seem like a seapony to me.” A mischievous grin that looked weird as hell on his face suddenly lights up. “And how can a relic like me remember all this? Because the mare wasn’t that hard on the eye, and a relic like me cherishes all memories like that. That’s why I followed her until she got into the train.”

Fall looks at him for a moment longer, and then rubs his forehead with a hoof. “Is that all you can tell me, then?”

Jade shrugs. “Just about. My turn to ask questions. Is that mare in trouble?”

Fall looks at his glass, looks at how the beer foams quietly, tempting him to quench his thirst with it. “I don’t know, Jade,” he says with a tired voice. “And neither do I care. Thank you for your time and answers. You can have my beer, too.” Fall begins to stand up, but Jade’s voice stops him.

“Because I reckon she is,” continues the old stallion as if Fall had said nothing, “and I reckon that it’s some stallion who's to blame, and seeing how you’re the second male who has come asking me about her, I’d wager that I’m right.” The two stare into each others eyes, Fall with indifference, Jade with determination of granite. “I told you this much because you passed my tests. But let me tell you. Had I smelled something funny with you, you might’ve as well tried asking questions from my coach. Haytowners stick together, everytime, everywhere.” Jade ends his words with another long sip of his beer.

Fall blinks, and tries to think something clever to say, but can’t find the words. When he steps out of the door, a hail of fierce rain pulls him into it’s embrace, soaking him in seconds. For a moment, he considers casting a rainproof spell to protect himself from the malicious weather, but the thought drowns in the din of the storm. He lets the water drench himself completely from mane to tail, lets it beat his face as he walks out on the open and gazes at the raging sky. The street is empty, although Fall can’t see it, just as he can’t see more than ten feet in front of himself. He stands there still as a stone for good ten minutes.

And after that, he leaves the scene without a hint of haste.

***

Two short knocks on the door wake Honey Lake from her book, which she leaves on the bed as she walks over to the hall. As she unlocks the door, a smell of wet coat fills her nostrils.

“Fall… Did you drop into a gutter or something?” she asks from the drenched unicorn, whose short and soaked mane covers one of his eyes. He is dripping all over the staircase platform.

“I needed a shower,” he answered bluntly, and tries to enter into the apartment.

“Oh no you don’t!” says the mare as she blocks his path. “I’ll get you a few towels. Or a bunch. Wait here,” and she disappears back inside, but shouts after a moment. “And don’t even think of shaking yourself in the staircase!”

Fall waits patiently as his marefriend scours the cupboards. The sound of dripping water mixes with the deep sound of pouring rain that carries behind the nearby window. After a few minutes, Lake returns with a pile of colorful towels, which she hooves over to him without making a sound. A faint grey glow captures the pile and spreads the cloths of varying sizes and colours all over Fall. It doesn’t take him long to get most of the dampness off.

“I’ll hang these to dry,” he says quietly, and walks into the apartment. Lake raises an eyebrow behind him, but says nothing before closing the door. “It didn’t go that well, did it?”

“Nope,” says Fall before he disappears into the bathroom. “Please tell me you at least have good new.”

Lake bites her lip, and lets the silence answer for her.

“I see…” Says the voice from the other room. When he comes to the livingroom, where Lake is now sitting on the couch, a placid expression on his face. The sight makes Lake’s heart sink.

“I found the middlepony that had sold Chillburn’s apartments, but he told me that he had no idea where she might be,” she says. “He did seem awfully tense, though…”

Fall crashes on the same couch, the only one in the room, and turns to look at her. “You think he was hiding something?”

Lake rubs her front hooves together, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know… Maybe. It seemed that he was scared, very much so. When I mentioned the name ‘Chillburn’, he practically jumped.” Her brow furrows slightly when she raises her eyes to meet Falls. “You think Chillburn might’ve threatened him not to tell where she is?”

A white cat with black stripes emerges from nowhere and jumps on Lake’s lap, eager for some attention. Fall watches as she begins to absentmindedly stroke its fur. “Anything is possible,” he says. “I wouldn't be that surprised to find that to be the case. From what I’ve heard from Reg, there is no telling what that mare might do to get what she wants.” But what she might be willing to do to get rid of the things she doesn’t want? “I’ll visit that middlepony myself tomorrow. Exchange a few words, see if he’d be in a more talkative mood.”

The cat purrs happily as she pets it behind the ear. “You’re not going to do anything stupid to him, are you?” she asks, smiling a bit, only a bit.

Fall says nothing, but looks deep into the cat’s blood red eyes.

“Fall?” she asks, a tad more sharper than she intended.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not going to do anything stupid to the middlepony, are you?”

“Of course not,” he says shortly after. “I’m just going to talk with him. That’s all.” Only the cat meows for a while after that.

“So, what went wrong with the coach drivers?” asks Lake finally. “Had none of them seen Chillburn?”

“One had, actually. He even told me where she might've headed.”

Suddenly, the mare forgets the cat in her lap. “Uhm, what?”

Fall explains the details of his encounter with Jade, the last name on the list that they had copied from Axiom’s office.

“I’m sorry, but how is that not good news?” asks Lake after he finished. “I mean, if that’s not a lead then what is?”

The unicorn sighs deeply. “It’s certainly something, but I’d be a fool to believe that I’ll find Chillburn, or Reg, with that tip alone. Even if Jade was right and Chillburn was heading to Haytown, there is no telling how I’m going to find her there. Neither can I say if Reg has indeed found her, or that neither of them is in the town anymore. There are a lot of ‘ifs’ there.”

The cat rubs its back against Lake’s chest, but she ignores the feline’s pleas. “So… You’re not going to travel to Haytown?”

Fall snorts. “Of course I will. If there is but a sliver of a chance that I find Reg there, I’ll jump to the first train that leaves tomorrow. But I’m not going to lull myself into believing that I have the odds on my side.” A shadow unfamiliar to Lake momentarily dims his eyes. “I know too well where that road leads,” he finishes.

Now the cat is scratching at her, but she only pushes it off her lap. The animal meows angrily and disappears into the kitchen. “I’ll come with you,” Lake says.

He looks at her into the eyes, looks at her as if it was just now that he saw her. A faint smile lights up his face when he sees the determination in those sincere eyes orange as peach. “I excepted that you would,” he says, his voice lighter now. “But I don’t think that you should.”

“Why not? I’ve got some holidays from work to spare, and it’s kind of quiet in the theatre at the moment. And it’s not like you yourself don’t have studies or anything.”

From the kitchen, a sound of newspapers getting ripped to shreds echoes. Neither of the two pays noise any attention. “I’ve almost graduated, so it’s easy for me to get a few days off school,” responds Fall. “And what ever happened to the Twelfth Neigh from which you’ve tried to get the lead role for months now? Aren’t the trials in next week?”

The mare cringes, and averts his gaze. “Oh, you remembered… First time for everything, I guess.” Her lower lip begins to quiver as if she suddenly felt very cold. “It’s… it’s just one play. There'll… be more…”

With gentle calmness, Fall wraps his front hooves around her, and just like that, they break into an unbreakable embrace. The sofa, the room, and the beating rain are left outside of the equation that only has room for two figures. She burrows deeply in between his hooves, into his chest, and he lets his muzzle be drowned by her ever so smooth mane. They linger in the following silence as long as they can.

“We don’t need to decide this now, sweetheart,” says Fall quietly. “Who knows, maybe the middlepony has found his courage by the time I meet him.” The scent of her mane drives a lance of euphoria through his being.

“Yeah…” she whispers, digging her front hooves into his tough coat. “That sounds good…”

The cat returns from the kitchen, a piece of newspaper stuck between its claws. The feline slits wonder at the sight of the two ponies entwined around each other’s bodies, the red eyes reflecting the scene like a coloured mirror. The crimson pools of predatory intellect witness as the embracement intensifies step by step, they see as she plants the first kiss on the middle of his throat, then another under his strong jaw bone. The mare’s lips, hungry but delicate, adore his coat with promises, with hints, with tenderness brought by years of coexistence. The stallion’s breathing grows slowly heavier, more controlled – it turns from a function into an invigorating experience as such. Her mane falls on her face as his lips search the coat underneath the curls.

In one elegant motion, the mare draws him into a passionate kiss that quickly turns into a flurry of famished tongues, grasping hooves, and moaning voices. They continue for several minutes before the mare whispers something into his ear, after which they detach from one another. The stallion gets onto his back on the couch, resting his head on the armchair, his erect cock already glistening with precum. She, on the other hoof, turns around, and settles herself atop him in the opposite way. It takes her awhile to align her hind legs comfortably around his head, but when she’s ready, the stallion does something with his muzzle, inciting a loud gasp from her. A series of wet squelching sounds follows, and the mare almost screams. The throbbing cock oozes more of the creamy liquid, and a flicker travels past her eyes as she notices it. Her mouth cracks slightly open, and begins to lower down onto his formidable member; her lips almost touch his tip…

…and then the cat loses interest.

***

Later in the evening, after they’ve shared a shower and a small supper, Lake rests her head on Fall’s lap as they lie on her bed. The bedroom window is half open so that the cool evening air can wash some of the heat away from the small apartment.

“I love you, Fall,” she says with her eyes closed. “I love you more than I have ever loved anypony else.”

Fall’s gaze, dreamy and soft, studies her neck and the way how her breathing makes her figure sway in the dim of the room. With a faraway voice, he recites:

“Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night.”

She purrs at his words. “Hmmm… You sure know how to spoil a mare…” She rubs her right cheek on his belly. A chilly breeze from the window blows in and makes the quiet of the room ripple.

“By the way…” begins the mare abruptly. “Did you ask from the drivers if Reg had come to ask advice from them before you?”

The dream in Fall’s eyes stirs a bit. “I did… None had seen anypony like him. Although…” His voice loses some of its softness. “Some of them mentioned having seen Axiom.”

“Wait, what?” Lake turns around in his lap, a worried expression on her face. “You mean that he has been looking for Chillburn, too?”

Fall nods slowly. “There was no doubt it was him.”

“Why on Earth… What does he want from her?”

I could make an educated guess, but it would only make you lose your happy dreams. “Beats me,” says Fall, and soothes her mane with a hoof. “I don’t care to know, really.”

Their glances meet shortly, and both blink at the same time. “Yeah…” she says. “I can agree with that.” Suddenly, a loud meowing carries from the hall. “Looks like the kitty wants his nightly round in the neighbourhood,” she comments and gets off the bed.

“I suppose it’s about time I leave, too…” Fall is about to follow her example, but she stops him with a loving smile.

“Just say the word, and my bed is yours tonight,” says Lake. Her features are partly covered by the shadows of the room.

“Please?” says Fall.

“That’s my stallion.” She plants a light kiss on his forehead, and leaves the bedroom, swaying her tail as she goes. Fall relaxes back against the wall, and crosses his front hooves behind his neck. Another breeze travels through the window, but he doesn’t mind the loss of warmth, he barely even notices it. As she returns, an almost sad expression shadows her eyes. She gets back on the bed and lies down on his broad chest.

“Fall… D’you think cats ever get lost, or will they always come back?”

He ponders for a moment, and then answers, “I think… that they'll always find company.”

Soon after, they fall asleep in one another’s lap.

***

On the far side of Equestria, roughly at the same time, a unicorn with sunglasses big enough to cover half of her face beats the air with her hooves, and shouts at the microphone floating in front of her mouth. “Ponyville! Ponyville! By Celestia almighty, I declare this party officially staaaaarteeed!” Her voice almost cracks during the final word. All around the stage on which she keeps on flailing and jumping like a madpony, ponies drenched with sweat stop their fervent dancing, and shout back at her. Their sore throats unite in a cacophony of primal glee, and Vinyl Scratch drinks the noise like it was wine to her. “Now let’s make friggin absolutely positively blatantly clear that Her Majesty herself, in the frigging Canterlot, hears us honour her frigging regime!” The chorus of unshackled frenzy that follows her words suffocates into the wildfire of dubstep that follows in their wake, only to unite with it in a melody of ear shattering electronic melody.

Chillburn tries desperately to cover her ears from the raging noise, but the music – if such a word even applies in this context – invades not only her head, but her whole body. She might as well fight against a hurricane with an umbrella.

“Awww, yeeaahhh!” shouts Thunderlane next to her. The dance floor is filled with moving bodies, with a sea of flesh, tails, and manes that pulse in the rhythm of absoluteness around them, inside them. “Deeee Jeeee Poneeh!” he keeps on shouting at the stage, imitating the movements of the marble-white mare there. “Vii-nyl, Vii-nyl, Vii-nyl!”

Chillburn glares at him while still trying to protect what’s left of her eardrums. She can’t hear a word he shouts, although she gets the message. “But the party has been going on for over an hour already!” She yells at him, referring to Vinyl Scratches latest announcement.

“Whaat?!” shouts Thunderlane back, his eyes wide and filled with music.

“I said, the show started an hour ago!” A swirling pink mare hops beside her, and accidentally bumps into Chillburn in the cramped space, saying something that she can’t make sense of.

“No no no no: That was just a warm-up!” yells Thunderlane. His wings vibrate as the air does, moved by the sheer volume of the sound. “Didn’t you hear Vinyl?! The party just got staaarteed!”

A shudder travels through Chillburn as another body stumbles into her, from behind this time. “I didn’t sign up for this! You said we would be going to a gig, not to get our frigging ears demolished!” She makes sure to form the words clearly with her lips.

Thunderlane only grins, and keeps on swaying along with the beat. “With Vinyl, first time might get a bit harsh! I told you to take earplugs along!”

“They keep on dropping off, and I already lost one!” As she speaks, a particularly violent wave, apparently caused by a falling bass, hits them and sends Chillburn’s already ringing ears over the edge, along with her one remaining earplug that disappears to the floor.

“Come again?” shouts the pegasus as Chilburn tries to stop her head from splitting.

“I said… Never mind!” Suddenly, she turns away from him, and starts to shoulder her way out of the dance floor. Thunderlane cringes a bit at that, and for a moment he loses his rhythm as a stinging feeling pokes his heart. But then Vinyl makes the record scream, and he loses the control of his body.

Chillburn makes slow progress through the current of ponies, but finally manages to push herself out of the mass and outside of the barn where the party is being held. The noise is awful also in the immediate surroundings of the large wooden building, so she quickly gallops several hundred feet away from it, to the orchards where the din is somewhat bearable. She breathes deeply in the fresh night air, and turns to look at the barn from afar.

The bright red building with gabled roof belongs to the Apple family, Thunderlane told her; apparently it fits for both the purposes of storing hay and eccentric music of gigantic volume. The flashing disco lights that have been set up all over the barn illuminate the night like an artificial constellation, like an inferno of electrical fire. It’s a wonder that such a simple structure can contain such forces, wonders Chillburn idly as the ringing in her ears lowers to an acceptable level. Heard from this distance, I might almost enjoy this particular song. Almost.

As she concentrates on the music, the mare fails to note the hoofsteps that approach her on the grass still wet from rain. It takes her subconscious a moment before she realizes that there’s somepony standing right behind her. With a sudden twist, she turns around, and shrieks.

“Hello to you too, Chillburn.” Reg Syllable’s voice is steady, oh so very elaborately steady. The apple tree that towers over them shivers gently in the wind.

“Syllable… what… how… what happened to your face?”

Not a muscle twitches on the stallion’s beat up expression. “Is it really the condition of my face that makes you tremble?”

Chillburn blinks, and realizes that she is indeed trembling from knees to neck. A sudden rush of panic fills her mind. “What do you want from me?!”

Steady as a tree, Reg stares at her without uttering a word for a while. “What do I… want from you?” The question seems to puzzle him greatly.

“You… you shouldn’t be here…” continues Chillburn. “I’m here with somepony. A stallion. He might come back at any minute now.” Thunderlane… somehow, anyhow, get over here right now.

An opaque look invades his face again. “You mean that pegasus with the ridiculous mane? I wouldn’t worry about him that much; he seemed quite busy getting his ears bleeding, the last time I saw him.”

“What… How long have you stalked us?!” Without any kind of warning, her words and frame stop shaking, frozen by anger.

“Only a few days,” he answers calmly. “And I didn’t peek through your bedroom last night, although it would’ve been very easy for me.”

“You… what… How dare you!” her voice is suddenly very shrill.

Reg begins to laugh. A dry, dead, joyless voice echoes around the orchard, mixing with the faint wind and music that carries over from the barn. I could run for it, tells the instincts in Chillburn’s mind. The barn is only some hundreds of feets away, and I’d get a surprise start. He wouldn't dare to use magic to stop me. He wouldn't. She stays still as if her hooves had grown roots.

“You seriously ask me that?” asks Reg sharply, the freezing laugh evaporating in an instant. “After what you did to me?” He takes a step closer to her. “After what you made me go through?”

After its short absence, the trembling has returned to Chillburn, although now it reaches her heart, too. “I… I’m sorry, Reg… It wasn’t easy for me, either!”

“Really? I couldn’t have guessed.” Another step closer. He is standing about ten feet from her now. “Why did you leave me, then? Why did you throw me away like a used tissue?” His eyes lose some of their steadiness, and begin to shimmer in the dim.

Because I was afraid. Because I wanted away. Because I don’t love you. “I was confused, Reg… I don’t know what I was thinking… It seemed reasonable back then, but I understand my error now.”

“I’m sure you do.” Seven feet now.

“Reg… Why are you here?”

“Why anypony is anywhere? Why do the Sun and the Moon rise? Because so is willed.” Six feet. A breeze makes the leaves above them shrivel. Her legs have stopped trembling; now they’re stiff as blanks. “I came for you, Chillburn. Why can’t you see it?” Five feet.

Run, Chillburn, run. Flee, sprint, gallop, escape, do anything but stand still like a damn tree. “That train has gone, Reg. Surely you must see that?”

He stops like a wall had risen in between them. He looks at her as if she was a complete stranger to him. Then his eyes travel to her stomach. “Does he know that you’re carrying?”

Chillburn’s confusement shines on her face. “Who?”

“That pegasus!” snaps Reg. Chillburn flinches and takes a step away from him. “Does he know that you carry my child?” he continues, his voice resembling a blade.

“N-no… I haven’t told him yet…” she says, and with a darker tone, continues: “Although that is none of your business.”

His eyes flare like a burning tree, but as he opens his mouth, something makes him strangle his answer before it can leave his tongue. His neck tilts upwards, and Chillburn follows his gaze. With a very quiet thump, a shadow build of wiry muscle and lean feathers lands in between them.

“Found you!” blurts Thunderlane to Chillburn, his easy smile decorating his lips. “Took me awhile to spot you in the dark.” He turns to look at Reg, whose expression is a mix of forced smile and fixated eyes. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” says Thunderlane to Reg, ignoring his slightly feral look and bruised face. “Name’s Thunderlane.”

“Reg. Syllable,” says Reg, his jaw clenched.

Thunderlane only smirks. “Are you a friend of Chillburn here? I say, she never told me that you’d be coming to Pinkie Pie’s Love-Your-Lizard party. But now that you’re here, how about we head back to the barn so that I can buy us all a round?” He flashes a wide smile and raises a questioning eyebrow. “I’d love to get to know you, Reg.”

Chillburn first looks at Thunderlane, then at Reg, and for a moment she is assured that the unicorn is going to do something irreversible, something inexcusable. With a terrified revelation, she finds herself holding her breath.

Then Reg’s posture releases some of its tension. “I’d hate to disappoint you, but… I myself promised to attend another party in my dreams. I’m quite tired, you see.” He smiles at Thunderlane, and then directs his eyes at Chillburn behind him. The shining in them makes her flinch. “I’ll see you around, Chillburn.” He gives one more look to the pegasus, who takes in his eyes without a hint of hesitation, and then Reg simply turns and leaves. The creeping night swallows him up faster than Chillburn could’ve believed.

Thunderlane looks at him go as long as his amber eyes can follow, and then he turns back to Chillburn, his smile gone. “You okay?” he asks.

The mare blinks, and before she can say anything, her legs fail her. It’s half thanks to luck that the pegasus manages to catch her before she hits the ground. His wings are the first to support her from the flank, and soon after his hooves follow, wrapping around her gently but firmly. Immediately she tries to straighten herself up again, but the move only makes her head spin more.

“Whoah there, take it easy,” says the stallion soothingly, taking some of her weight on his wings.

“I’m fine, birdie, just fine.” Since when did my voice sound so… frail?

“No you’re not, and don’t you argue with me now. Here, let me carry you.” He moves his left front hoof around her neck, expecting her to lean on it.

His unexpected act of chivalry makes a short laugh escape her. “Uhm… you sure that’s necessary?” she asks, now smiling a bit. She doesn’t resist his hoof that envelopes her neck, yet she doesn’t submit to it either.

“Trust me; I know a mare in distress when I see one. Wouldn't be the first time I carried a beauty, either.”

A curious look lights up her face. “Oh? That must be quite the story…”

His steady expression feels a tiny crack. “Uuh… Yeah, it’s a story alright. Not exactly what you might think, though.” His smile returns as if it had never left him. “C'mon. Let me be your wings.”
In the dim, the amber meets the carmine, and for the very first time, Chillburn sees something else than reckless joyfulness in those golden eyes spiced with honey. Without a word, she lets her figure fall on his hooves, her gaze trapped in his. “I’ve never flown, you know,” she whispers.

The amber twinkles upon hearing that. “How does it feel like, then?”

“Well, you might consider getting us into the air first before ask–” A leaf brushes against her cheek, and cuts short her sentence. She looks right, and sees a thick growth of leaves just in front of her face. Her body literally locks around him as she realizes that they are already ten feet off the ground. A surprised gasp flees her lips.

“Yep, a common reaction from an earth pony,” says the pegasus, his eyes still lost in hers. “You might want to ease your squeezing a bit, tho. I won't let you go.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Her wide eyes stare down at the ground that keeps on growing more distant. Still, her grasp loosens up a bit, turning from crushing into clingy.

“Thanks. Now, how high you want to go?”

Her head snaps back at him. “I thought you were going to carry me back home?”

His smile turns from easy to mischevious. “No I didn’t. But if you want to, I can get you there in no time.”

Her brow wrinkles, and she glances down again. They’ve already way past the treetops, and the view is starting to dawn on her in all it’s serene beauty. The barn bathing in electrical light, the more quiet lights of Ponyville on the distant right, the waking stars and moon above them… they all seem to smile at her, enticing her to lose herself into their caress in the nightly sky. The music emanating from the barn has changed into a somewhat slower tempo, and the notes whisper their secrets on the mare’s ears. But despite the disco lights, and the village, and the music, even against the stars and moon above, the most intoxicating shining she sees are the amber flares that glow only for her. And then he whispers:

“The night has only just begun, Chillburn.”

The seven simple words, in all the innocence with which he says them, cast aside all the massing feelings of doubt, hesitation, and fright in her, they make a play of them, a comedy with a recurrent punchline that she can’t quite get. And that is exactly what formulates the beauty of it.

“Thunderlane,” she says, their gazes intertwined. “Make me ashamed of walking.”

His smile is the most ecstatic revelation Chillburn has ever seen. The beats of his wings double in intensivity, they lift them into heights unimaginable, and into the night unleashed of its earthly bounds. They fly as if the heavens belonged to them alone.

In the ground, a pair of bitterful eyes follows them disappear into the velvety fabric of reality. Syllable cancels the concealment spell, and leans heavily against an apple tree. The rough bark scratches his coat, but he makes no attempt to realign his position. The orchard echoes with the tunes that carry from the barn, but otherwise only the moon and the trees keep him company in the growing darkness. His eyes sweep the ground, and spot an apple that has been missed by the harvesters. The lone red orb, partly rotten already, seems out of place in the surrounding greenness. With a flick of his horn, Reg makes the fruit float in front of him, studying it against the rising moon. In the pale light, one could almost mistake the ripe red color as dark orange. Very purposefully, very ponderously, the unicorn increases the thickness of the grey aura that surrounds the apple.

And within one moment, crushes it into a pulp.

***

Author's Notes:

The lines that Fall recite to Lake are from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. I don't know a good pony equivalent for Shakespeare yet, but if you wan't to help me out with that, I'd be overjoyed.