Lilly Pad had been very small when her Momma died.

It started as nothing at first. A simple cold, Momma said. But that didn’t stop it from getting worse and worse. Lilly tried to help her just like Momma would when she was sick, but it wasn’t enough.

One day, a pony in a white coat came to help Lilly. She was only there a few times a week, and her visits were short, often shutting Lilly out of the bedroom. She was always bringing more food and a stern face, telling Lilly that her Momma would be okay, and that things were just fine. She seemed cold and uncaring, never having the time to talk to Lilly. It made Lilly feel sad and helpless to watch her mother while being able to do very little.

She tended to her mother day and night. While some fillies and colts went outside to play, Lilly was at her Momma’s side every second. She didn't understand what was wrong, but she knew she was very sick and it worried her. Every morning she replaced the blankets like she had been told, fed her soup and bread, and read her a story. She seemed to like that, always telling her she was a good girl. As her mother grew weaker and increasingly sick, Lilly grew more and more scared.

One day her Momma wouldn't wake up. It wasn't the first time she wanted to sleep in; Lilly remembered being scolded for barging into the room and leaping upon the bed before sunrise one morning long ago, when she had been too excited for the day’s events to sleep. But this time was different. Momma slept all day for three days, never waking up to eat food or hear Lilly’s stories, even though she read anyway just like she would have wanted.

After the third day the pony in the white coat arrived. She seemed very grim, but Lilly couldn’t understand why. She kept asking the mare what was wrong, but she wouldn't say a word. Soon after a group of what Lilly recognized as nurses arrived and pulled her Momma onto a cart and took her away. That was the last time Lilly ever saw her. Confused and alone, she sat and read every day, waiting for her Momma to come home. She never came back.

The nice mare had instructed Lilly to stay; that someone would come by later to take Lilly to her new home. Lilly didn't want a new home, she wanted her home. So Lilly ran far away.

Her mother always said that if Lilly got lost, they could find each other: it was a Mother’s gift. So Lilly searched and searched, but Manehattan was a big city that was not for little fillies, and Lilly was all on her own. For years she looked for her mother, struggling to understand why she would forget about her only daughter.

By her tenth birthday the filly had made her home under a dumpster in an alley. She slept there at night, her only belongings being the cardboard box she slept on and her only teddy bear, barely protected from the cold and occasional harsh wind, while by day she braved the cruel city to scavenge for food in the nearby alleys and trash bins: such was her life.

On this particular day of her birthday, she had been in one such graffiti-stained alleyway, nose stuffed in a heap of garbage. It was a crisp autumn’s day and the junkies and other homeless didn’t occupy this part of the city much. The scent of Italian food and leftovers had attracted her, and she knew by this time of day the patrons would just be finishing lunch. Often the kitchen staff would sneak her a fresh bread roll, and sometimes a plate of pasta, if she got lucky; Lilly loved pasta.

As she dug, a little bird had landed on the bin beside her, curiously watching what she was doing. Lilly hadn't even noticed it at first, but as she lifted her head out of the trash to make sure she was alone, a piece of bread in her muzzle, she caught its gaze. It looked as hungry as she was, and it regarded her with cautious interest, maybe even thinking the same thing.

Lilly watched it wearily from the corner of her eye as she plopped down on her hindquarters to eat. Opening her mouth to take a bite, she was startled as a clang echoed beside her. The bird was now perched atop the trash bin she had been digging through not moments before, watching her with a tilted head. It certainly didn't seem threatening or dangerous. As Lilly watched, she got the feeling it was just like her: alone and hungry. She tore off a small piece of bread with her hoof and held it out to the curious bird who, eyeing her with suspicion at first, snatched it up and quickly flew away, ending the short interaction of filly and bird. Lilly didn't see it for the rest of the day.

The next day, returning at precisely the same time, Lilly was rewarded with a stroke of fortune: fresh bread and salad, courtesy of the friendly waiter. He didn't have time to talk to her today, but she didn't mind. It was often the case that ponies chose to ignore her and pretend she didn't exist, so she had become used to it.

As Lilly ate with the satisfaction and glee of a foal at Hearth’s Warming, the little bird returned, perched atop the same garbage bin as before, watching her intently. Without a second thought, Lilly offered it some bread, and was surprised when it suddenly flew to her side and took the bread directly from her hoof, pecking at it from a few feet away.

Watching with wonder and amazement as she ate her own meal, Lilly thought about the bird and if it had a home or a family of its own. As if detecting her thoughts, it paused from its eager pecking to turn and gaze at her, peering into her thoughts. The moment lasted not a second longer before they both returned to eating. The bird seemed happy as it bounced around and devoured the crumbs piece by piece. Lilly decided that it had to have a home for it to seem so carefree.

Lilly arrived the next day fully expecting her new friend to be waiting for her, only to find the same empty alley. It’s probably off somewhere with its family, she thought with a hint of envy, and quickly went about her regular tasks of looting the garbage bins. One by one, each yielded few results, until but one remained, standing closest to the door to the restaurant. She wasted little time in bounding over, making a little game of skipping over the already overturned pieces of garbage that littered the ground. One, two, a skip and a hop, three, four, followed by a jump and a twirl. Laughing, she made her way to the bin, standing on a box so that she could peer over the side once the lid had been knocked off.

Inside, on top of a heap of garbage, was her little bird friend. One wing had been knocked askew and its feathers were matted with blood: it didn't move. Frightened, Lilly scooped it up and quickly made a makeshift bed out of discarded newspapers, prodding it repeatedly.

Lilly sobbed, giving its small lifeless form a shake. It didn't react. Its eyes were closed and its body was limp. It simply would not wake up. Tears streaming from her eyes she darted around for anything that could help. A paper towel for a bandage, a piece of cloth to act as a blanket, and some bread for food. Lilly spent hours tending to her bird friend just as she had tended to her mother. It never woke.

The mid-afternoon sun melted into night and Lilly grew tired. Maybe the bird just needed some rest? That had to be it. Lilly fell asleep slumped beside the garbage bin well into the morning, her hunger gnawing at her with a dull ache. The sound of the nearby door opening quickly caught her attention and she awoke with a start, met by the face of one of the staff. She was an old mare, her face wrinkled and troubled, and as she saw Lilly’s tear stained face and the makeshift bed which held the bird, she sighed.

“The bird is dead, my dear,” she remarked coldly as a few bags of garbage were tossed into the bin. “One of those damn dogs snatched it and crushed its wings. Killed it instantly.” Lilly simply shook her head and blinked.

“D-dead?” She asked in disbelief. She became painfully aware of a feeling of dread overcoming her, her hooves becoming heavy and cold. The mare gave another heavy sigh and walked to Lilly’s side.

“Sometimes, when it’s time, a creature passes. It passes from this world and simply leaves its body: it is no more. Just like the dirt it came from, it will become dirt again. Do you understand?” She spoke carefully and with certainty, as if this was a subject she had explained to many foals in the past.

Lilly’s body was numb, everything around her became clouded and dark, but she nodded anyway. It wasn't long before the old mare gave her some leftover bread and a cookie for good measure, sending her on her way. Not knowing what else to do, Lilly returned to her makeshift home and laid down.

Gone. Dead. Forever. The words rang through her head again and again. There was the thought of something. A realization that was on the tip of her tongue. The bird wouldn't wake up, it wouldn't move, and it wouldn't eat. It wasn't the first time Lilly had seen those symptoms. She wanted to cry, wanted to weep because the only friend she’d had in years was suddenly gone, but why couldn’t she? Why was her body so numb? As she lay on her side, cradling her beaten up and dirty old teddy bear, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She thought again of her mother, as she often did, and where she might be right now. Her mother had once told her that if she got lost, she would find her. A mother always knew. So why hadn't she found her yet?

Then the realization struck, hitting Lilly with the force of a thousand bricks that knocked the wind from her chest and a thousand needles that exploded inside her heart.

The bird was dead…

...and so was her mother.