The trek downstairs wasn’t a cozy one, stepping into the kitchen with trepidation. Pumpkin was already hard at work, humming away as she added another log to the wood-fired oven.

She turned to face Arin, her smile widening until she noticed the diary in his hands. Immediately, her mood began to change. He couldn’t place it, but it felt like he was crossing a boundary he never intended to cross.

“Hey uh, Pumpkin? You left this upstairs,” he said, pressing the journal into her hooves. She accepted it, looking over the green cover with curiosity. When her eyes settled on his again, they seemed worried.

“I… wanted to tell you. About last night. I may have… peaked. A little.” The Seraph broke his gaze, running his fingers over a nearby counter top. As if examining the wood would help.

The shock settled into her features, and instantly – he felt like he cornered her. The innocent mare simply watched him in shock, her tail bumping the unlit oven behind her.

“I just wanted to say… Well, it’s still complicated at the castle. And I do find you sweet, but I don’t know you well enough to make a decision on how I feel. I uh… know you enjoy some of the more mature novels. But those are hardly real relationships. Love at first sight isn’t a real thing. Sure, I find you adorable – beautiful, even, but I have to work out my own problems before I can really tell you how I feel. And right now, I feel bad. I shouldn’t have poked around, but… I did. I’m sorry.”

The tiny mare held her book to her chest, hat tipping over her face as her vision shifted to the floor.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested, Miss Spice.” He kneeled down – she was waist height after all – and gave her a genuine smile. “Let me work out my problems, and we’ll see where I stand. Alright? You’re definitely not the first that’s shocked me with the thought. Though you’re a lot more genuine, I can tell.”

He offered her arms to her in a hug. She looked up to him, staring with disgust. Of course, he was doing this simply to comfort her, but...

“I don’t want to hug you. Not after you read my diary.” She glared through soft tears. “That… w-why would I? Y-You… don’t you realize you just… you just s-stomped through my heart and my thoughts?”

“Wait! Hold on a second, I didn’t do it to hurt you. I just wanted to know more about you, that’s all.” Arin gasped. Was he really that emotionally deaf?

“You… Y-You could have just asked.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she darted for the stairs, ignoring his call. The door slammed shut with a thunk behind her, leaving him in stunned silence.

He didn’t know what to feel about that. Not only did he shoot her down, but he also just admitted to spying. Why? Why was he an emotionless, dumbfounded idiot? With a sigh, he pressed his head to the nearest wall – right by Vee’s nosy snout.

“Good work, Tall-fry.” Vee said from the kitchen’s window. “It’s hard to be honest about something we feel guilty about. That’s why we lie.”

He nodded, dragging his eyes up to meet her. “A friend once told me that lies are for the guilty, so you’re not wrong.”

“Oho! And where do you think she learned that from? Trying to snoot up business in my shop with a disguise, d’ohoho~ That was a few hundred years ago. She learned her lesson quickly with me! And you’re gonna learn it here, too. My feathers can feel every bit of snooting and trickery that happens in my Magic Emporium. With a bird-demon’s help of course.”

“Well Vee. You got me into this mess. How do I get out?” Arin shook his head, leaning a hand against the counter to prop himself up and look at her.

Her response didn’t come until she gave him a firm glare. “You got yourself in this mess, Jerk-face. I’m simply correcting it! But if you want a tip, the tip jar is empty. Because I’m broke. Instead, let me give you advice.”

“There’s a difference between an accident and a mistake. An accident is a slip of the tongue, a flick of the feathers – and boom! You’ve got spilled coffee. No sense crying over it, get the old feathers to dry the floor and have Pumpkin clean it up later, d’oho~ But! A mistake is different. It’s a lapse of judgment. You simply didn’t put that brain beneath the mane to use, or you used it poorly. Acknowledging it is just the first step of fixing it; and you do that with a sorry.”

“Alright. Well, I’m at that part. How do I fix this mistake, then?” By now, the Seraph had picked himself up enough to keep eye contact with her.

“You have to prove it won't happen again, Tall-fry. Back in the old days, a snooty snooter would clip a hole in their ear as a sign of betrayed trust on the mend. But! I don’t think Pumpkin would get it, she’s only a Small-fry after all. I remember the day I adopted her, all those years back – from the Vanhoover orphanage, of course! She had a sniffly nose from the cold and needed a few too many cupcakes to put meat back to her bones.”

She smiled at the old memory, giving a sigh. “Fifteen years ago, right on her birthday, she visited my shop during the summer months. She loved to browse my trinkets, after all. I’d catch her eyeing this little glass pumpkin bauble I kept on the shelf, a little coin box that was much bigger than it seemed on the inside. She couldn’t really reach it, but she’d always try – and it would thunk her on the head when it fell! Magic things are sturdy, after all.”

She began to preen and dream, smiling at the good times. “She always babbled about how she wanted to be a witch, just like me. She would always place the little pumpkin on my counter and ask, ‘How much for this?’ even though I told her a million times! Oho, she was a cutie. But she never had the bits to buy it. But on that day, she was just so excited – it was her birthday, after all. She kept going on and on about how her little coltfriend was going to throw her a party at the orphanage, and she wanted something special to give him to keep. How he was going to be rich one day, and put all his bits back into charity so foals like them wouldn’t have to worry about food.”

Her cheery smile behind the feathers began to drift away, slowly settling into an all too familiar emotionless stare. “She wasn’t a very bubbly filly at the time; she didn’t have many friends, only the one colt. And there were a lot of meanie foals in that old home, too. I eventually gave in, and let her have that little pumpkin – it was well over two hundred bits, but I could spare it. Lots of coins from ponies coming in, lots of potions going out. All of that jazz. That sparkle in her eyes when I wrapped it up is something I’ll never forget.

“But the lowest places are the most cruel. On her way home, she ran into her coltfriend at the Vanhoover bridge – and unfortunately, a few of the more nasty foals as well. They both didn’t stand a chance, and a nasty red colt – oh how I hated him, too, always running amok – he tossed that little coin box into the water. And of course, her coltfriend jumped after it. It meant the world to her, to give him that gift. But he never came back up, not until the next day. Foals aren’t the best swimmers, and the river is no place to play during a chilly, snowy month like Cloptober.”

She stopped preening, clearly losing the mood for it as she instead hovered her coffee onto the window’s counter. “I adopted her that same night, after the police ponies had their words with her. Ever since, she’s been afraid to love. She’s thrown herself into romance novels, looking to fill that gap her friend filled. In some way, she’s never grown up. She still holds a naive belief that she’ll find her old coltfriend in someone else, and she’ll hold on to them forever. And they’ll hold her, and keep her safe and help make the world make sense.” A single stir of her cuppa followed, the husk of a mare finishing her story. She held no emotion anymore, none of her usual mirth. Only the distinct lack of it.

“When she can, she volunteers at the nearest orphanage whenever we move towns. I really think she does it to help any of the little fillies and colts who are being bullied, so they don’t have to suffer like she did. Time, bits, blood, sweat, tears – she doesn’t want them to suffer alone. The most important years of your life are the ones you’re raised in, Tall-fry. They determine who you will be.”

Quiet sips of coffee were the only thing to disturb the silence. She continued to stare at her drink, emotionless for a while. “If you want to make things up with her, I don’t know what else to say, Arin. This is a pain that runs deep. You broke her fragile trust, and really, even with all of my magic and centuries of knowledge – I couldn’t even begin to tell you how to fix this. I feel bad. I knew you snooted, I did. I could have said nothing, let the peace be kept – but honesty is important to me. I won’t keep you here if you’re not honest. Ha… write that letter to the Princess, why don’t you.”

Vee didn’t smile with her comment, and when she ran out of words to say – she turned back to the register to work on some sparse paperwork up front; simple bills, finances, faint hopes they’ll make another month without having to shut down a shop somewhere. Arin only continued to stare on in silence, the heavy history of the little mare weighing in on him.

He could make this right. And with that knowledge, he knew just how to start.

He made a beeline for the door – Vee calling out to him as the bell rang.

“Where are you going, Tall-fry? Aren’t you going to work on your fundraiser? Snoot up some bits, make the foals happy?”

“When I get back, yes – but I’ve got to do something first. I’ll catch up when I return, I promise.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Vee all alone in her shop.

“Ah, the good old days of being alone. Alone… mm. Not as good as I remember, definitely bad for the feathers.” She frowned, resting her chin on the front desk. Staring out the window straight ahead into the street; a sight she remembered all too fondly, years ago.

Pumpkin held one of her favorite plushies to her chest – a black kitty plush that she’s had since she was little. She had named her Midnight, the first gift she was ever given from a time long passed. On a nearby perch, Onyx watched the little mare quietly. A steady eye and a soul to keep her company – if odd bird demons even had souls.

A knock at her door stirred her from her poor mood. It was well after noon – Vee had probably made her hot cocoa to cheer her up; she always did when the little Pumpkin mare was down. She looked at the Raven and nodded, sniffling. He tilted his head, and clicked his beak – the lock popping open.

In stepped an absolutely soaked and cold looking Seraph. His cheeks and skin had shifted from their usual pale to a near icy blue, his boots squelched with every step, and water dripped on her floor.

“A-Arin? Why are you?…”

He pushed his left hand into his pocket, drawing out a palm sized glass pumpkin. A tiny slot in the top perfect for popping bits in when needed, it gleamed a gentle orange in the light. The mud had been washed away, cleaned in the river where he found it.

She stared, a swirl of emotions soon overtaking her. Shock, then sorrow – appreciation and gratitude – it all struck at once, as she hopped off of the bed. She examined the pristine magic pumpkin, fresh tears running down her face.

“I wanted to show that I was truly sorry for what I did, and so I asked Vee for some advice. She didn’t have much to say, but… she did tell me a little story. About a cute mare down on her luck.”

He placed the trinket in her hooves, and she held it close to her chest. Holding back tears, feeling the memories of old wash over her in a tumbling sea. Soon, her body relaxed, and the tension left her. Looking up to Arin with exhaustion in her little voice.

“Thank you, it’s been… I-I… I’ve been worried for so long. I never thought… A-Arin…” She eventually sniffled, wiping away the building tears. The Seraph leaned in, offering her a hug - which she calmly took regardless of the clammy cold.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that. Right? You’re a good soul, and… I’d hate to lose a friend.” He smiled, gentle wings embracing her. Despite the shakes running up his spine, the chattering teeth - he wanted to show that he wasn’t just some… emotionless monster.

“I-I know, it’s j-just… I’ve been h-hurt before,” the mare quietly sobbed. He continued to gently stroke her autumn mane, the tiny pony pulling away to look him in the eyes.

“I… You didn’t do it to hurt me. I know. It… I know it was a mistake. T-Thank you, Arin. F-For… trying t-to make things right.”

He smiled at that - giving her hair a ruffle. “Now, I hate to ask a favor right now, Pumpkin, but… I think I’m about to develop hypothermia. Think I can use your shower? Then afterwards, if you’re still in the mood for baking, we could pop a few batches out and earn some bits?”

“O-Oh! Right, y-yes! Here, um… give me your clothes, I’ll wash them f-for you. Just um… there’s towels under the sink, if that will help?” The little mare held the pumpkin to her chest, feeling it's cool touch against her skin. It still shined like the day she lost it, too.

The day progressed much like normal after that; a deep clean to scrub away the river was just what the doctor ordered. His spare set of clothes slid on nicely, his main set left by the fire to dry. A few minutes by the fire would cheer anyone up and air out his soaked clothes; something about the warmth and flare of flames just awakened a part of one’s soul, deep down. Even if there was a wall of laundry to block most of it.

Clean and fresh, he made his way back to the kitchen - happily joining the little mare once more to put together the Lunar Fundraiser. After all - the ‘general election’ couldn’t be too far off, right?... Maybe he should check the dates on that. It was still early Prancetember, after all. Didn’t Quill Shine say it was only thirty days away? That’d be in Cloptober, probably.

As the cart grew heavy and the excitement climbed ever higher, the duo once more set off into the world - bit bag jingling, the Seraph calling for attention, ponies quick to nibble at their delicious treats in exchange for coins. While they had half the stock as the other day, they had more than enough sales - raking in another five hundred shiny bits for the road.

Just as the final trio of cookies found its way into waiting hooves, a mysterious letter from above clattered against the Seraph’s head in a spark of purple light. Tumbling to the floor, he stooped down to scoop it up - looking over it curiously for several moments.

“Huh? I’ve never received mail before. Well, not like this - and not in Equestria.” Unfurling the star seal, he quickly looked it over, sighing.

“Well then, Twilight works faster than I thought. She said around three days, but it looks like her friends are already there - and she has exciting news to give me, too. Hopefully it isn’t a science lecture. I don’t think I’ll survive another one.”

“W-Wait! You’re… y-you’re leaving?” Pumpkin mewled, stopping the cart dead in her tracks. “T-To the moon, like you said earlier? You’ll come back… right?”

“I’d hope so, otherwise Luna will probably hunt me down myself for skipping guard duty. Again. But hey, in the meanwhile… We have a good heap of bits. Think you could do me a favor, and run these to a local orphanage - once we return to Canterlot? Get the news ponies, grab a microphone - something. Just announce that it’s being donated on behalf of the crown, and Luna’s own Knight helped make every bit in the pile. That’ll surely work. Right?”

Pumpkin clopped her forehooves together sadly, thinking. “W-Well, I can… but… you’ll be okay. Won’t you?”

“What? Me? Of course! I’m not afraid of the moon or… whatever. It’s just some snow and wind, I’ve handled worse.” The Seraph stated this confidently, yet he knew deep down that he could very well not leave the Lunar Plane alive. He may never find Celestia, or worse - he’ll find Nightmare Moon, first. If she really is up there.

“O-Okay… just. Be safe. P-Please?” She led the way back quietly towards Vee’s shop, the click of the cart rattling on the rough concrete slabs. Her steps were calm and quiet, drooping her hat over her head to turn her thoughts inwards.

The journey back wasn’t as cheery as the adventure out - and with a rattling bounce of the platform’s wheels, the bell ringed shut into the comfy cafe once more.

“Oho! That was fast - hey, Small-fry, what-”

Pumpkin blazed right past Vee without another word, shuffling around in the kitchen quietly to wash up baking sheets and mixing bowls galore.

“What’d you do now, Tall-fry? I’ll find another book! I’m not afraid to wingchop you! That’s my sister you’re bullying, Jerk-face!” She put up her hooves, ready for a fight - but Arin raised his hands in submission.

“I didn’t do anything, Vee; promise. I have to head back to Canterlot. That’s all. Think Onyx can take us there while I grab my stuff?”

“Hmhm… if the featherbrain isn’t too busy preening feathers in my feather pile, then perhaps! If not, best walk, Tall-fry.” The Purple retrieved a trusty wing in need of many more hours of preening. It seemed that no matter how many feathers she snooted out, somepony would sneak in to snoot more back in when she wasn’t looking.

Slipping past the kitchen, Pumpkin hardly gave him the time of day, ignoring him as he passed. Today just wasn’t going well for her. But his old set clothes were now comfortably dry, and he was quick to pack his bag up once more. Even during his tenure as King, his wardrobe was sparse - he was a former Inert after all, and cared little about what he wore to toil away.

The world flashed and churned, darkness seeping through the windows before quickly shifting to an all-too-familiar street. Canterlot. That definitely beats walking. He almost wanted to ask about the limitations of it, if you could just… set a door anywhere, and make it work. Now that he thought about it, probably not.

Just as he was about to pass through the kitchen entrance, he lingered with the thought of saying goodbye to the little mare. But when Pumpkin ignored him yet again - he made his way to the front. Just before the bell could ring on the Cafe’s front end, her soft voice squeaked to stop him.

“W-Wait! Arin!” she mewled, dashing across the wooden floors in a huff - nearly tripping over her own hooves as she did so. “I… I wanted to give you this, before you go.”

Plucking her hat from her head, she retrieved the glass pumpkin bauble from before - now polished and definitely well cleaned, she held it up to the towering Seraph, who oggled the toy.

“I… Pumpkin, I hunted that for you.”

“B-But it was never for me. I wanted to… g-give it to a friend. And… no matter what you’ve done, y-you’re a good pony-er… monkey, minotaur thing.”

“Seraph.”

“T-That!” she squeaked, holding it up higher until he gingerly accepted. He popped the root lid off, heart melting. Dozens of cookies rested inside, making him smile in delight. Fresh and warm, the magic of the trinket would surely keep them safe for weeks to come - even in the bitter cold he was sure to face.

“Pumpkin… you didn’t have to.”

“B-But I did! Please, just… come back safe. O-Okay?”

He nodded, holding the little trinket to his chest with a smile. “I will, Pumpkin. I will.”