One Hearth's Warming Eve, in the cold afternoon,
Inky stared in the hamper. She howled like a loon.

She woe’d and despaired, had a crisis or two.
The worst had occurred. What's a clotheshorse to do?

All her laundry'd been bleached! All her blacks were now white!
The most horrid of horrors—a Hearth's Warming fright!

“Lily!” she screamed to the boards overhead.
“You get your flank down here! I swear you’re so dead!”

A shuffle of hooves, a rumble, a bump,
And down stumbled Lily, a wool-covered lump.

“Like, what in Equestria's wrong?” Lily said.
She straightened the Santy Hooves cap on her head.

She looked like a snowmare, a big, fluffy hen.
Or perhaps more a yeti come out from its den.

“You’re... going like that?” Inky asked in dismay.
Lily frowned. “It’s, like, totally freezing, okay?”

A roll of her eyes, before Inky then sighed.
One of these days, she'd tan this mare’s hide.

But back to the present, the white linen and lace.
She thrust Lily a hoofful, A scowl on her face.

“Was this your idea of a silly, old prank?
To make me wear something not black on my flank?”

Lily’s mouth fell agape. It then snapped back in line.
She said simply, “I, um… I thought those were mine.”

“Are you kidding—” No. No time to be sour
With the Hearth's Warming Pageant in less than an hour.

A promise she made, and a promise it'd stay.
A promise she promised. She'd keep it that way.

No time to be angry, no time to complain.
For Mother was waiting, not waiting in vain.

She took a deep breath, counted one up to three.
She already could sense Lily bursting with glee.

“It’s Hearth’s Warming, Inky!” Lily said with a grin.
“Don’t worry, I got you. Besides, black is… like, grim.

“I can loan you a sweater. Remember that sketch?
The one from that mag. It’s so totally fetch.”

Before Inky could ask, Lily flew up the stairs
To get heaven knew what. Inky said a few prayers.

Lily trotted back down, a pink sweater in tow.
Was that… polyester?

Sweet Celestia, no!

It had bells all a-jingle and deer all a-prancing,
And when she looked closely, three sugar plums dancing.

She scrambled, she dove. She kicked and she flailed.
But her hooves and her wings against magic had failed.

She screamed as it swallowed her—that ghastly attire.
The itchy thing burned like her soul was on fire.

She seized like a statue, her mouth a thin line.
“Like, stop being dramatic, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Inky still couldn’t move. She shot Lily a look,
‘Cause she felt like Saint Nickerlas, straight from a book.

“You look totally cute.” Lily said, good to go.
But Inky glared death at her. Simply: “Yeah, no.”

“Oh, don’t say that word. Just trust me, you’ll see.”
Your mother will love it.” She smiled with glee.

That might have been true, but with no way of knowing,
“Whatever,” said Inky. “Can we just get going?”

And going they got through the thick falling snow,
The lantern light warm, and the town all aglow.

“It's so pretty outside, even with all the slush.
Hey, Inky, slow down! You’ve got no need to rush!”

But she did, Inky knew. They were well beyond late.
They weren't gonna make it at this lousy rate!

“Slow down, Inky Rose. Like, enjoy the walk there.
It's Hearth's Warming Eve. Feel the cheer in the air.”

“There’s no time to feel cheer. Do you know where we are?”
To that, Lily frowned. “Quit acting bizarre.

“Like, seriously, chill. We're just a tad late.
We're still gonna catch the first act at this rate.”

“But that’s not the point,” Inky muttered, annoyed.
To hurt Mother’s feelings, she preferred to avoid.

A promise she made, and a promise it'd stay.
A promise she promised. She'd keep it that way.

Lily glowered at her, as if she had been cranky.
“You’re lit’rally being a windigo, Inky.”

A windigo? Windigo? Was that what she was?
Some angry, old ghost made of snow just because?

Inky fanned out her wings, said, “Enough is enough.
We’re going,” and grabbed Lily’s coat by the scruff.

“Inky, let go!” Lily shouted aloud.
“I won’t ‘til the pageant show!” Inky avowed.

The next moment slipped by. It all happened so quick:
A patch of black ice and a moment of panic.

They fwomped in a heaping, wet pile of snow.
For Inky held tight, she still hadn’t let go.

She rose and she shook off the snow from their fall.
But poor Lily can't even—can’t even at all.

“Like, Inky! The hay? Just what did you do?”
Lily threw up her hooves. “What's the matter with you!?”

“I… I just,” Inky said, didn’t know what to say.
So she held up a hoof and she asked, “You okay?”

“No!” Lily shouted, expressed her dissent.
“I'm so TOTALLY done. Like, three HUNDRED percent!”

Her lower lip quivered. She squinched up her eyes.
The tears started coming—a pitiful guise.

“Tonight is about more than you and your mother.
It’s Hearth’s Warming, Inky—our first one together…”

With a bite of her lip, Inky wilted. She sighed.
“Lily…” She searched for the words. She tried, and she tried.

She traced Lily’s cheek with the tenderest hoof,
Thinking how in the world she had been so aloof.

It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, whether snow, rain, or sun.
It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, meant for family and fun.

“I’m sorry,” said Inky. “I lost sight of that.”
She straightened out Lily’s red Santy Hooves hat.

“We’ll get there whenever.” Their hooves she entwined.
“We’ll probly be late. I just hope she won’t mind.”

A sniffle, a chuckle, a genuine smile.
It split Lily’s face, and it stayed there awhile.

“You promise?” she asked. Her breath fogged in the breeze.
“I promise,” said Inky, her heart well at ease.

A promise she made, and a promise it'd stay.
A promise she promised. She'd keep it that way.

They dawdled so merry, even struck up a song
In the Hearth’s Warming spirit. It didn’t take long.

Giggles stifled by hooves, they entreated the door,
One shivering mess, but two smiles adorned.

They stole to a row toward the front of the aisle,
Where Mother was waiting, and so was her smile.

No questions, concerns—simply hugged them both tight.
“I'm so glad you could make it this Hearth’s Warming night.”

Nothing else needed said, not a word, not a letter,
Except a quick comment: “I love your new sweater.”

Inky felt Lily’s grin on the back of her head.
“I kinda do, too, Mom,” was all that she said.

A promise she made, and a promise it’d stay.
A promise she promised. She kept it that way.