Three knocks on the front door echo in the dim house, sinking into the walls in seconds. After a short pause, four more carry in and break the quiet; this time, they incite movement on the living room’s couch. A figure stirs in the darkness, fumbling with its limbs as it stands up and looks at the door’s direction. Chillburn’s head sways slightly as a third set of knocks, the most demanding thus far, reaches her ears. The mare walks to the door, her steps, even in their uncertainty, making not a sound. “Yes?” she asks with a sleepy voice as she gets close enough. “Who's there?”

“Thunderlane,” answers the voice beyond. “Can I come in?”

She blinks in the dark, and a moment of indecision imprisons her for a second. As she returns to the living room to get the key from the table, she hits her knee against the hardwood. She curses, and returns to the door. When the metal finally meets its home and turns with a click, Chillburn sees the familiar form of the pegasus greeting her on the doorstep. The moonlight reveals a bandage wrapped around the base of his right wing, yet fails to illuminate his face.

“Does the bird need some honey for his hurt wing?” asks the mare sweetly, the roughness in her voice now less noticeable.

The pegasus’s sniffs the air around her, and pulls his face away a bit. “Are you...drunk?”

“I might be,” continues Chillburn with a heavy, dreamy voice. “The real question is, how’re ya gonna exploit that…” She takes a wavering step back, bending her back as she does. “That’s what you came for, right?”

The amber eyes remain clad in shadows. “I’m not in the mood right now, really. I’d just like to talk.”

She stops bending her back before him, a confused look intruding her bedroom eyes. “Why not? Don’t ya like me anymore?”

“It’s not that,” sighs the stallion. “Look, maybe it’s better that I come back tomorrow when you’re sober. We can talk at the picnic.” He turns to leave.

A rush of panic fills her face. “No, don’t go!” She hurries outside and circles around him. “I can be sober rig–what the hay happened to yar face?”

A few bruises and a bandaid decorate Thunderlane’s body in the silvery light of the rising moon. “We can talk about it tomorrow,” he says, avoiding her gaze.” I’m kind of tired now, too; I shouldn't have come…”

“I’m not tired!” continues Chillburn with a voice leaning towards whining. “Please, talk to me…I can’t sleep if ya leave me like this, now.”

A shade of annoyance covers the amber eyes as he studies the mare in the dim light. “Fine. Let’s talk.” He turns and walks for the open door.

Chillburn hurries after him. After closing the door, she blurts: “Did Reg do that to you?”

“He did,” answers the pegasus as he walks to the living room. “Can we get some light here? I can’t see a th–” His sentence ends in a mix of a curse and a grunt as the table makes its acquaintance with his knee.

“Hold on, I’ll light the lamps…as soon as I get some oil for them at the shop…”

“Just forget it,” mutters the pegasus. “I can manage.”

Chillburn chews her lip and watches as Thunderlane’s figure settles on the couch with some difficulty. “No you can’t,” she says. “Besides, I want to see you properly.” She heads to the bedroom, the stairs creaking under her hooves. Soon she returns with a faintly glowing oil lamp in her teeth, the light revealing her blushed cheeks. She sets the lamp on the table, turning the flame brighter. “I keep this one filled in the bedroom, just in case,” she explains proudly. Her pleased expression vanishes when she looks upon his face again.

“He came to the weather drill today,” said the stallion quietly after a while. “I don’t know how he found me…but it was pretty clear why he had come. He might've as well cut the small talk and moved straight to the punching.”

“Oh, sweetheart…I’m so sorry.” She moves closer to him on the couch, caressing his neck and back. “How badly does it hurt?”

He glances at his right wing. “Won’t be flying for at least a week, the doctor said. You mentioned Reg is a boxer? He must be a devil in the ring…” His gaze travels back to the bright flame. “Funny, though…what reason you have to be sorry for what your ex has been up to?”

The mare keeps on smoothing his neck, gently touching his mane every now and then. “Did he…say that we’ve been together?”

He snorts, still staring at the flame. “He didn’t need to; it’s obvious that you two have a history, and I’m not talking about some little foal’s play here. He is mad for you, and that’s why he attacked me today; because I’m in his way to you.”

Since when did his shoulders get this tense? “You have nothing to worry about, hun. Reg and I do share a history...and nothing more. I’ll never leave you for him.” She leans closer to him ear, her lips chasing his ear.

He moves away from her, shaking off her hoof. “If that was all I cared about, I wouldn’t have come tonight. I didn’t come because Reg attacked me today…but because I attacked him.” He turns his eyes off the light, into the umbra of shame.

“Wh-what? But you said–”

“He came to me with words, asking for a fight, but it was I who crossed the line. And that’s all that matters.” He looks into her eyes, the honey aflame amidst the dark-grey face. “And the thing that bothers me the most...scares me more than anything else...is that I don’t feel as bad about it as I know I should.”

The confusion makes her eyes flicker like the fire inside the glass prison. “What do you mean?”

Their hooves touch on the couch, his moving over hers. “Reg said some things about you. Bad things. I couldn’t let it pass, not even when I knew I should’ve done just that.” A smile of sorts creeps on his lips. “I love you, Chillburn. And it scares the hay out of me.”

Her head sways slightly farther away from him. “Why would you say th–”

“–Because I’ve known you barely for a month!” bursts the pegasus, his smile burning. He searches her eyes for understanding, but all he finds is more confusion dressed in fear. “I’m not playing a love sick colt here; I’ve dated mares before…but you…you don’t get just under my coat. You are my coat.” The stallion’s smile dies twitching slightly. “Without you, I feel bare.”

She pulls her hoof away from him. Not quickly, not slowly, but with care hastened by instinct. He looks down on her limb, the flickering flame shading his perplexion. She glances at him, and then focuses not on the lamp on the table, but on the circle of light where it stands sovereign. The silence is deafening.

“I’m pregnant with Reg’s child,” she whispers.

“What?”

She turns her sad, shimmering eyes at him. “I should’ve told you earlier. I don’t know, the last few days have been so vexing…” She wraps her hooves around his neck, and buries her head between his neck and shoulder. “I should’ve told you…” Her voice breaks while her shoulders shake uncontrollably with sobs.

Without thinking about it, the stallion accepts her embrace, his hooves moving on their own to comfort her. In his eyes, Thunderlane is less sure about himself. “It’s okay… I’m not mad at you. I’m just… I don’t understand.” His muzzle sinks into her mane, breathing in her scent. “Why you’re telling this to me now? Why not before?”

“Because it wasn’t supposed to matter,” she says amidst the tears that flow down his coat. “This is my child, not anypony elses. I wasn’t trying to fool you to become my husband, I swear! I just…I…want to be a mother…” She digs deeper into him, right to the point where it starts to hurt.

“Okay, okay…” hears Thunderlane himself saying, speaking into her gorgeous mane. “I’m not sure I follow. How about you start from the beginning.”

Chillburn detaches from him hesitantly, and dries the tears with a hoof. “I’m sorry about this…must be the alcohol that’s affecting me. I don’t drink that often, not this much at least.”

The stallion smiles tensely, as if half of the feelings that he has ever known tried simultaneously to squeeze into the same family portrait. “It might not be the best idea to say this now, but aren’t you supposed not to be drinking at all while carrying?”

Her blank expression lasted for four seconds before being washed away with one of dread so vivid it was contagious. “I’ve ruined my baby!” she wails, burying her face into her hooves. “I’m the worst mother there is!”

He hastens to extinguish her anguish. “Wait, I didn’t mean that! I’m sure a few drinks won’t matter, I’m sure! Please stop crying!”

With ardent efforts, Thunderlane manages to calm Chillburn down enough so that she can start her story, beginning from the night she first met Reg Syllable. As the words pour from her mouth, some more easily than others, her frantic sobbing gradually ceases. In its stead, a sense of tranquility descends. He lets her open herself to him, listening without interrupting. In the end, she ends up telling him not only about the events six months past, but her whole life starting from the day she heard that she wouldn’t be able to carry a child inside her, ever.

It’s only when she gets to the part where she sneaked out on Reg in the Canterlot Castle that Thunderlane interrupts her monologue. “You just left him like that? No wonder the guy went nuts.”

“So you think I shouldn’t have?” she asks quietly, looking at the flame that has almost run out of fuel by now.

“I’d rather stop flying than tell what you should’ve done. What you did, you did, and there’s nothing anypony can do about it now. I only meant that I can understand Reg a bit better after knowing what he has gone through.” His hoof caresses idly her curls. “I still don’t feel bad for what I did to him, though. He shouldn't have called you a…” his voice dies down before the word.

She looks at him with a glint of curiosity. “I’ve always wondered…why do you stallions think ‘a whore’ is the worst name you can call us?”

He cringes at the name. “Uhm, isn't it just that? It’s disrespectful, degrading, dirty–”

“–okay, okay, I get the idea,” interrupts the mare, her voice regaining some of it’s characterizing sharpness. “But I asked why you thinks it’s so? I don’t get it, really.”

“You don’t?” he asks, amazed.

She shakes her head. “Certainly some mares must think the word as obnoxious as you, but it never got to me like that. It’s just a word; a profession, to be exact. And to be honest, even in my wildest days as a whore, I never felt that bad for myself. Not for the name, at least.”

He gives her a long look. “Ahem. I see. Well, I guess there are worse names for a mare than a...whore.”

But you don’t really believe there are, do you? Males; always so stiff when it comes to sex. “I’m glad that you agree,” she says. “Mind if I carry on?”

He yawns widely, and nods afterwards. “I’d love that, Chillburn. I can catch some sleep during the day before the afternoon’s proceeding.”

“Proceeding?”

“Oh right, I didn’t mention it yet. When the Mayor gets back from her trip tomorrow, we’re going to go over the fight with Reg with her.”

The mare raises an eyebrow. “You mean, there is going to be a trial?”

“No, nothing that serious. We’re just going to talk it over, settle and bury the thing for good. That’s the Ponyville way of handling this sort of stuff.”

The mare sighs in relief. “Oh, good…for a moment, I thought that this affair was going to get public…”

He lets out a short, awkward chuckle. “Oh, I didn’t exactly say that there wouldn't be an audience. Did I once mention that Ponyville is very communal? Well, there are two sides to all coins, and often these kinds of cases attract some outside viewers around here.”

“Some?” she asks pointedly.

He rubs the back of his neck, pondering. “Most of the weather team will come for sure, and then there’s usually a few scores of outsiders who might get the rumour in time. Unless Pinkie Pie throws one of her reconciling parties; then we’d be talking of about a hundred tails.”

“Oh dear Celestia,” moans Chillburn, sinking into the couch. “Terrific. Soon the whole village will know what’s going on between me and Reg.”

He looks at her empathetically. “It will never come to that, I swear. Not by my mouth, at least; I’ll talk with the Mayor tomorrow and tell her that I’d like to keep this in the inner circle. I’m sure she'll understand.”

“But Reg might–”

“I’ll handle Reg,” interrupts Thunderlane calmly. “He is officially my problem now, too.”

She looks at him doubtfully. “What are you going to say him?”

An easy smile, one more familiar to him, lights up the pegasus's face. “I’ll figure out something before tomorrow. I may not have a degree in psychotherapy, but I’ve experienced a heartbreak or two in my life. We’ll come to an agreement, mark my words.” Or maybe we just end up crashing the Mayor’s office. Either way, I’ll be damned before I let him hurt you anymore. He extends a hoof on her neck, brushing the delicate coat there. “Trust me.”

The conspicuous distrust on her face lingers a second longer, but then it fades and disappears, replaced by one of her warmer smiles. “I will. In fact, I trust you well enough that I won’t even bother coming to the Town Hall tomorrow.”

“You don’t think seeing Reg could be helpful to both of you?”

“Depends; considering the state of my mind, I’d call it the opposite of helpful. And I think that goes for Reg, too.”

The stallion flicks her curls with a hoof, letting them fall on his ankle. “Okay. You still want to finish that story of yours?”

Chillburn blinks. “Right, that. I can’t recall where I stopped…”

“To the night when you left Reg and jumped into the train to…”

“Haytown,” finishes the mare. “I went to Haytown for a couple of months. My mother lives there, along with the ones who’ll rather die than move away. I felt the need to...tell her what had happened and then move on. For whatever reason, I stayed with her longer than the planned few days.” She leans against his hoof, closing her eyes. “I almost settled there for good. But in the end, I couldn’t. If you don’t mind, I’d save that story for another time.”

“Of course. Was that when you moved to Ponyville?”

“And met you.” She draws him closer, digging tenderly into his lap. “That was a good day.”

“Yeah,” says the stallion as he puts his other hoof over her chest. “It was.”

The flame goes out without a sound.

***

The windmill almost looks sinister, the way the setting sun paints the stony structure with eerie red and yellow. Willow Fall eyes the thing as they approach it with the clerk, almost galloping as they cross the field. “My name is Tin Key, by the way,” says the clerk in a friendly tone. “Most call me just Tin, though.”

“Willow Fall,” says Fall without taking his eyes off the mill. “I’m not seeing the guards of whom you spoke.”

“They must be inside, then.”

“Does the mill have storage rooms or something?”

“A large cellar, I’ve been told,” says Tin Key. “I’d wager that your friend is safely shut there.”

Safely for whom, I wonder. “What exactly happened with him today?”

Tin Key shrugs while walking. “I don’t know much about the details, sorry. Apparently he exchanged some blows with one pegasus in today’s weather drill.”

“You have any clue what caused that?”

He shakes his head. “He hasn’t talked much since we locked him up. Nothing worth remembering, at least.”

They arrive at the mill’s shadow, and step in through the small door. Inside, a pegasus and a unicorn stallion sitting by a table interrupt their board game and look at them. The dim light of an oil lamp hanging above gives them a somewhat grim appearance.

“Hello, guys!” says Tin Key cheerily. “Everything okay here?”

“Who’re you?” asks the pegasus sharply from Fall, ignoring Tin Key.

Fall stops a few feet away from the table. “Name’s Willow Fall. I came to see the prisoner.”

The guards glance at each other, then at Tin Key. “What’s this, Tin?” asks the pegasus.

The clerk gives a short, tense laugh. “Heh, nothing special. Fall here is a friend of our little troublemaker, and they’d just like to share a word or two. No harm in that, right?”

The pegasus narrows down his eyes, and looks at Fall again. “Kind of late to come for a talk, isn’t it?”

“I just arrived to the town,” explains Fall politely. “This is very important for me. Please, I won’t cause any trouble.”

The small, dark room holds its breath for a few seconds.

“RD didn’t say that we couldn’t let in guests,” says the unicorn guard at the other one.

“That’s because nopony was expecting any,” says the pegasus without taking his eyes off Fall. “Very convenient for you to arrive to the town just as your ‘friend’ gets into trouble.” His wings stir gently.

“Come on, Dart,” says Tin Key pleasantly. “We’re only talking about a few minutes here. I can stay until then, okay?”

The pegasus gives him a condescending look. “You won’t be much of a use if two unicorns start rumbling around.” When his eyes return to Fall, the mistrust in them is strong enough to be mistaken as aggression. “It’d be two horns against one. Can’t take that risk.”

By Celestia…what on Earth did Reg do to get these guys so jumpy? “Look, I’m a scholar, not a member of the Royal Guard,” says Fall and points at his cutie mark; a roll of aged parchment.

“And Archy here is an architect,” says Dart dryly, nodding at the other guard who only shrugs as affirmation. “None of us are destined to this,” continues the pegasus. “That’s why numbers are the only thing that counts.”

“You know, even if it would come to that, there’s still three of us and two of them,” says Tin Key carefully.

Dart snorts at him. “There could be five of us and it still wouldn’t matter. Horn beats hoof and wing nine times out of ten; we all know it, there’s no point in pretending otherwise.” He sneers quickly at Fall. “Who’s to say you didn’t come here to bust your pal out?”

Now that you mention it, the idea is starting to somewhat tempt me. “There must be a way we can make this work,” says Fall calmly. “Can’t you get more unicorns here? Or chain me?” Fall weaves his most persuasive expression on his face. “I’ll submit to anything as long as I get to have a few words with Reg.”

“Listen to him, Dart,” says the other unicorn, nudging the pegasus with a hoof. “The guy is desperate. RD would understand if she was here.”

Fall searches intently for any signs of giving up from the pegasus’s face, but he might as well be studying solid rock. Then all of a sudden, the one called Dart throws his hooves into the air. “Fine! You can talk for ten minutes. After that, you leave.” He glances at Tin Key and the other guard. “And if anything funky happens, I’m not the one who tells Dash about it.”

“Agreed,” says Fall relievedly. “Now, where is he?”

The guards stand up from the table, and the unicorn floats the furniture away with his horn, revealing a small hatch underneath. “In you go,” says Dart as he opens it with a creak, revealing a staircase leading into darkness.

Fall’s horn illuminates the earth walls as he makes the descent. Solid earth greets him as he finishes the short trip to the bottom; around him, shelves packed with sacks and some tools hide, more tightly packed earth behind. At first it seems that the small room is empty.

Then a faint voice carries from behind him. “Turn down the light. You’re burning my eyes.”

Fall dims his horn a bit, and turns slowly around to see a bruised, dirty ruin of a light-brown unicorn slumping against bare wall, his mane hanging sadly over his eyes. A low whistle escapes from Fall. “Reg…what the hay are you doing here?”

“The same that every other living thing is doing everywhere. Dying.” His voice crawls along the floor, low and quiet. “I heard most of your talk above. Did you really come to bust me out?”

The bigger unicorn settles down onto his stomach opposite to his friend, trying to get a glimpse of his eyes that shun the light. “Is that what you want? To cause more trouble?”

“What if I do?” A chilly laugh echoes in the cramped storage. “Maybe all the years I spent fighting with Axiom have turned me into a walking machine problematique. Maybe troubles are all I’m good for anymore.”

This is even worse than I feared. “I suppose Chillburn hadn’t prepared tea and biscuits for you, then?”

More laughing emerges from some depths unknown to reason. “Oh, she offered me tea alright. Practically more than I could handle.”

“What else did you expect? Leaving you six months past should’ve been clear enough of a hint, don’t you think?”

Reg sways his head aimlessly, and licks his dry, broken lips. “That’s what you all have been telling me… Princess Luna, Chillburn, Axiom…that stupid clerk in Canterlot…’what did you expect?’” His right front hoof raises dreamily from the ground. “‘You can’t succeed’, they said. ‘Let it go’, you urged.” He grabs Fall by the neck, and pulls his face inches from his own. “It never was about getting what I want,” Reg whispers. “But about getting what I’m not allowed to want.” He lets go of the other stallion, returning to his apathy.

Fall, a bit shaken by his companions sudden motion, narrows his eyes. “Are you now blaming others for your degradation? Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds?”

Reg sweeps the air aimlessly with a front hoof. “Was preaching all you came here to do? If so, could I get the summary and be done with this?”

“I came here because we’re friends!” snaps Fall in sudden burst of anger. “You think you’re the only one who’s affected by this farce?” He pauses, expecting an answer, but when none appears, he continues: “How can I help you if you won’t let me? There is a way out of this mess, and let me tell you, it doesn’t lie at the bottom. I’m offering you my hoof, but it’s you who needs to grasp it.” He puts a hoof on Reg’s limp shoulder. “Please. Stand up.”

Reg rises his eyes gradually from the stony floor, looking at the hoof touching him. “Deep down, ever since I woke alone in the Castle, I knew that I had lost Chillburn forever. I didn’t need anypony telling me that.” The hazel eyes travel over to Falls, shimmering. “It was the absolute certainty that I had been abandoned that made me fight against it. Had I been blessed with the tiniest speck of hope, with just the most insignificant amount of doubt…I could have lived by that. But I couldn't live in pure certainty.”

Fall gives him a long look. “Now there’s Reg the scholar that I used to know,” he says without the slightest hint of a joke. “I know you wouldn't sink so easily.”

A short, uncontrolled laugh burst through Reg’s tears. “I guess self-reflection makes for a darn good raft.” He puts his own hoof on top of Falls, and stands up along with him. “Thank you, friend.” The two embrace each other tightly in the cellar, almost losing balance in the clutch they share. “I’d kill to buy you a round right now…but I don’t think I can leave yet,” says Reg after a moment. “There are only so many holes that self-reflection can get you out off.”

“Indeed,” says Fall. “Also, I have a feeling that the visiting time is almost over by now, so…” They let go of the hug, suddenly a bit awkward. “...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” finishes Fall.”

“Come to the Town Hall in the afternoon; there is going to be a trial there.”

“A trial?” Fall asks doubtfully. “What did you exactly do to deserve that?”

Reg scrapes the stony floor with a hoof, his eyes cast down. “I’d rather not talk about it right now, really. I crossed the line, the line I thought I would never see.” He sits down against the wall again, although this time his back remains somewhat straighter. “The ring got the better of me, I think.”

A suspicious look crosses Fall’s eyes. “Well, there is not much anypony can do about that. I’m going to go now.” He enters the stairs, but before he gets out of the cellar, Reg’s voice carries from the darkness beyond his light.

“Have you seen her yet?”

The question, although casually presented, still sends a shrivel down the unicorn’s spine. “You mean Chillburn? Why would I do that?” he asks.

“For no reason at all,” calls the answer from the dark.

Fall steps out of the cellar without another word. In the room above, after the hatch has been closed behind him, Dart steps in front of him with a regretful look on his face. “We couldn’t help but to overhear most your conversation,” he says quietly. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for doubting your motives.” He glances quickly at Fall. “If you want to, you can talk as much as you like with him.”

Fall studies the pegasus, and then the two other ponies behind him, all of whom are having hard time meeting his eyes. “I appreciate the gesture, but that won’t be necessary,” he answers, keeping his voice down. “There’s not much for me to do here now, and I’d like to have a moment with my thoughts. Do you know any place I could spent the night in?”

“You should try the Apple family farm,” says the pegasus with a hint of relief in his voice. “It’s not far away and they’re very hospitable. Head to the South and you should find them in no time.”

Fall nods to him. “Thank you all for your help, and sorry about all this mess.”

“Oh, we’re used to little inconveniences in Ponyville,” says Tin Key when Fall’s already at the door. “After chocolate milk rain, ‘mess’ receives a whole new meaning.”

There not much else that Fall can do but smile carefully at that. Outside, he watches the sun gradually set on the horizon.

In the carmine glow, he can faintly hear a deep, soft voice whispering to him.

In the breeze, one could almost mistake it for a call.

***