Rarity woke feeling warmer and safer than she had in quite some time.

She lifted her head slowly, so as not to disturb the pony sleeping next to her. Rainbow Dash was still dead to the world, sprawled out on her back as though she were trying to cover as much of the bed with her body as possible. Each of her six limbs somehow pointed in a different direction, and her tongue lolled out of her open mouth. Quiet snores filled the room as her chest rose and fell.

She looks so peaceful. Like the pain that everypony could see around her had fled while she slept. Rarity reached out and carefully brushed a few strands of that garish mane away from her face. Dash's ear twitched as her hoof brushed it, but her sleep continued undisturbed.

It didn't look like Dash would wake very easily, which was perfect for Rarity's purposes. She slowly eased her way toward the sleeping pegasus, and in the stark light of morning took a long look at Dash's body.

She probably weighed less than Sweetie Belle. Pegasi were slight creatures as a rule, but Rainbow Dash existed at the extreme end of the spectrum. Her coat stretched taut over bone and muscle, with not an ounce of fat anywhere on her frame. Rarity could count her ribs when she inhaled. The twin arches of her pelvis were clearly visible above her cutie mark, even lying down. Every single muscle in her legs and back showed through her skin.

She wasn't starving. She wasn't emaciated. Spare. Lean. Hard. Rarity frowned at each thought. They were all correct, but none of them could sum the pony sleeping in front of her. Even for a sleek, speedy racing machine, this couldn't be healthy. There was trim, and there was this: iron bands wrapped around a wood frame. Rarity prodded her shoulder with a hoof; even asleep, Dash was stiff as clay.

We have time. Make sure she eats. Stuff her if you have to. Get Pinkie to help. Good ideas, all. Rarity hummed quietly, her mind spinning with dozens of plots and schemes to add a bit more flesh to Dash's bones and hopefully draw her back into the world as well. Ideas to pull her out of the well she had fallen into. Rarity was no psychologist, but she could tell when a mare had problems.

Yes, you have a lot of practice with that. Maybe you should put some energy into solving your own—

Rarity coughed, then froze as the sound seemed to stir Dash. The pegasus mumbled something, twitched her ears around and rolled onto her stomach, which was quite a process with those wings. Rarity ducked to avoid an errant wingtip.

Slowly, carefully, Rarity crept out of bed. It was a skill she had plenty of practice with, though not one she would have bragged about. This time, there was no shame, though; no desperate eagerness to escape from a nameless stallion who was nothing to her but a cock and a resemblance to a certain prince. This time, she simply wanted her friend to enjoy her sleep. When all four hooves were safely on the floor, she smiled to herself and padded to the door.

Now for the second part of her act. She peeked out the bedroom door across the hall. Sweetie Belle's door was still closed. She let out a silent sigh of relief and trotted down the hall and stairs to the parlor. She could catch a few more winks on the couch, and no pony would be the wiser when they finally woke. Assuming, of course, that Dash could keep her mouth shut. She'd have to sneak a quick word with the pegasus before Sweetie had a chance to—

“Good morning, Rarity!” Sweetie Belle's high voice was filled with joy. The kind of joy that came from catching one's sister red-hoofed in the act of something embarrassing.

Well, pony feathers.

“Good morning, darling!” Rarity spun in place, her face as serene as ever. Not even the barest hint of evasion could be heard in her words. “Why, I didn't realize you were up already. I was just upstairs checking on Rainbow Dash, to make sure the poor dear is well.”

“Mhm. I wondered where you were when I came down.” Sweetie glanced at the conspicuously empty couch, a huge, victorious grin on her face. She was sitting at the kitchen table and had a large spread already laid out for them. Waffles, again. Rarity's figure was in for a bit of a ride, it seemed. “And how is Dash? Awake yet?”

“Ah, she's still asleep, actually. I didn't want to wake her.” Rarity kept her face composed. She could still win this. Ignoring her sister's grin, she took a seat at the table. “Thank you for setting out breakfast, by the way.”

“Oh, it's the least I can do for my guests. But you can imagine my surprise when I came down and didn't see you on the couch!” Sweetie's eyes went wide. “I was worried. I had no idea where you were!”

Rarity sighed. At least the waffles looked good. She took a dainty bite from one. Not bad at all.

“I was so relieved when you walked down the stairs,” Sweetie continued. Her face twisted into a look of mock confusion. “But, wait a minute! If I was down here, and you were up there, then—“

“Oh, fine,” Rarity said. “I slept upstairs. We both did. And it was harmless. Just two mares sharing a bed.”

“Of course. Harmless.” Sweetie polished off another waffle in three bites. Still at that age when she could eat anything without worrying about her flanks. Rarity sniffed quietly and took another small bite.

“Why, you and Rainbow Dash!” Sweetie continued. “That's just silly.”

“Completely silly,” Rarity agreed. There was nothing between her and Dash but the love of a true friend. So maybe she'd had a few fantasies about the mare, but that was hardly unusual. Dash was such an exotic, athletic specimen of a pegasus; why, it was perfectly natural to imagine a bit of fun with her in bed.

Dash opened her eyes, surprised, as Rarity gently pushed away her hoof, exposing her crotch. Her lips, wet and shining, lay open like the petals on a flower.

Rarity blinked. True, she had never imagined such things about any of her other friends, and she'd certainly never pleasured herself while doing so. Why was her mind filled with such lascivious images of Rainbow Dash? What was it about that crude, crass, obnoxious, egotistical, stubborn, brave, loyal pony that made her think such dirty things? Rainbow Dash rolled onto her back, her legs splayed obscenely wide, hiding absolutely nothing. Thick, clear fluid slathered—

“Rarity?” Sweetie's broke Rarity's reverie. The smug amusement had fled from her voice.

“Er, yes, dear?” Rarity looked up sharply, her usual smile back on her face.

“You, uh, you looked like you were thinking about something really hard, there.”

“I was just...” Just what, exactly? Sorry, darling, I was just imagining Rainbow Dash panting with arousal, my tongue halfway up her— No, that wouldn't do at all. She coughed into her hoof before continuing. “Just thinking about what I should do today. Can you... can you keep a secret?”

Sweetie raised an eyebrow. The expression seemed oddly familiar on her face, and it took Rarity a moment to remember where she saw it so often – the mirror. She took a sip from her juice to hide her momentary lapse before speaking.

“Yes, of course you can. It's about Dash.” Rarity glanced upstairs. All quiet. “You probably noticed, but she's not doing very well.”

“We all noticed. If it weren't for the mane I wouldn't have recognized her.” Sweetie frowned down at her breakfast. “It's been six months. Isn't that, you know... enough time?”

“I don't know, dear.” Rarity lowered her voice to a whisper. “But she needs more help than she's getting in Cloudsdale. Can she stay here for a few more days? I think being around friends will help her.”

“Of course, sis. As long as you need.”

Rarity frowned. “As long as she needs.”

“Right, that's what I meant to say.” Sweetie's face was a study in innocence.

Right. Rarity held the frown for a moment longer, then returned to her breakfast. The waffles were sinfully delicious, and—blueberries! Rarity sucked in a little breath when she saw a bowl full of the little fruits and promptly spooned a heap of them onto her plate. Fresh blueberries were almost impossible to get in Fillydelphia. Sweetie grinned at her across the table, and except for the sound of contented munching, they were quiet as they ate.

“So, what are you doing today?” Sweetie dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, I was going to see if any of the girls had some time for us. You know, just to hang out.” Rarity scratched her chin with her hoof. “Maybe they'll want to go to the spa?”

“Uh, that might be a little too soon for Dash,” Sweetie said. “Besides, I've got a better idea.”

“Really? Well, don't keep me in suspense.”

“Go visit Pinkie.”

Rarity waited for more. Sweetie simply smiled at her. Rarity sighed and was about to press for details when hoofsteps caught her ear. They turned to the stairs, which Rainbow Dash was descending in all her disheveled glory. The pegasus saw them and gave a sleepy wave with her wing.

“Uh, hey girls. Ooh, waffles!” Dash sped up her trot to the table, took the third seat and immediately tore into her plate. Rarity could only watch in awe as she seemingly inhaled her food.

“Morning, Dash!” Sweetie said. That accursed grin was back on her face. “Sleep well?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah we slept just fi—” Her mouth closed with an abrupt clack of teeth, and her eyes darted back and forth between Rarity and Sweetie.

“She knows,” Rarity grumbled. “I already told her. I also told her that nothing happened.” She directed the last few words at her sister, who sniffed.

“Heh, yeah.” Dash took another bite and swallowed most of it before continuing. “You and me! Can you imagine?”

Vividly, as it happened.

Sweetie said nothing more about Pinkie Pie or her plans for the day, and Rarity couldn't invent any plausible excuses to grill her for details, not with Dash sitting there listening. Instead they made more small talk about the town and the changes it had gone through. There was word of adding new rail routes, or maybe just putting more trains on the tracks that already connected Ponyville to Fillydelphia and Canterlot. New roads had been mooted at city council meetings – not dirt paths like they currently had, but actual streets with cobblestones, just like in the big cities.

There was even talk of adding a real cloud neighborhood above the town. Although Ponyville had always been known as an earth pony town, enough pegasi were living here now that a permanent place for them in the sky was warranted. As permanent as anything was with pegasi, Rarity mused.

Dash nodded along, but had nothing to say on the subject of clouds or homes therein. Sweetie Belle, dear insightful Sweetie Belle, didn't press her.

In short order Rarity found herself walking through the bustling streets again, with Dash trotting along by her side. Ponies waved or smiled at them, perhaps fondly remembering their years as some of Ponyville's most famous residents. Or, she considered, they might simply be grateful for the excuse to have held such a huge party. Not that Pinkie really needed excuses.

“So, darling, did you have any plans for the day?” Rarity cast a glance over her shoulder at Dash. By all rights, the pegasus should have been floating everywhere, unable to use her hooves for more than a few seconds at a time. Walking was as unnatural to the old Rainbow Dash as it would have been for a fish.

Still need to ask her about that.

“Eh, not really.” Dash gave her a casual, fluid shrug. “Anything's fine, you know?”

“Mm, how about we see what the girls are doing?” Rarity made a show of looking around, her gaze stopping on Sugarcube Corner. It was a ruse, of course; she'd waited to ask the question until they were less than a block away. “I'll bet Pinkie's in.”

“Huh, okay. You think she's busy?” Dash gave the bakery a look, then began trotting toward it.

Ask Sweetie, apparently she knows something. Rarity stepped quickly to catch up. “Well, no more than usual, I'd imagine. Unless there's some great rush for cakes all of a sudden, she should have time for us.”

With that thought in mind, Rarity pushed open the door and entered pandemonium.

The bakery was chaos. Rows of carts held trays stacked with fruit pastries and a hundred flavors of donuts and flaky croissants drizzled with chocolate and cakes iced with a dozen rainbow colors and pies crusted with nuts. Tall rolling shelves held bushels of baklava glistening with honey or countless cannoli oozing thick whipped cream from their necks. A mountain of fudge sat on its own table in the corner, brooding over the shop like a sinfully rich dark lord. But more than the sights were the overwhelming smells: the frothy warm tease of milk, the tantalizing tug of sugar browned into gooey caramel delightfulness, the pure happiness of baking bread tapping away at her mind, whispering, “Yes, I know I'm not good for you. I'm such a baaad little thing. But one tiny bite won't hurt, will it?”

No, no it wouldn't. Rarity's eyes went on another long tour of the bakery. Her normal disdain for fatty snacks mewled on the floor of her mind, shocked into impotence.

“Whoa,” Dash said beside her. She hadn't even heard the pegasus come in. “I think she is busy, Rares.”

Busy or... something. Rarity stepped into the room. Around her were enough sweets and treats to feed the kingdom. The laden tables seemed to sag under their weight. A cupcake pyramid with at least a thousand individual cupcakes dominated the center of the room. At the very top sat a maraschino cherry, a shining red beacon apparently placed to warn away pegasi who flew too close.

“Busy?!” The sudden voice contained equal measures of shock and laughter. They turned to see Pinkie Pie poking her head over the counter, a white chef's hat perched high atop her mane. “Baking isn't busy, sillies! It's fun!” Her head vanished below the counter (except for the hat, which was too tall to conceal), and a moment later Pinkie trotted out to greet them, weaving her way around the carts and tables and occasional free-standing chocolate sculpture.

“Hey Pinks.” Dash bumped hoofs with her, then turned to the opulent display around them. “What's with the, uh, everything?”

“The festival, of course!” Pinkie looked between them with a huge grin that slowly faded in the face of their silence. “You know, the harvest festival?”

More silence. Dash and Rarity exchanged a glance. “Is that, like, a party or something?” Dash finally ventured.

Pinkie let out a dramatic sigh. The chef's hat atop her mane wavered dangerously with the deep bob of her head. “Oh, Dashie,” she said with the tone one might use on a foal who had just committed a social faux pas. “A festival's not a party. It's a festival!”

Ah, how she had missed Pinkie's particular brand of logic. Rarity counted to three before speaking. “Yes, dear, we understand that. What is this festival for, though?”

Pinkie gasped with her usual theater. “What is it for? What is it for?! The most important harvest of the year, sillies!” She paused, suddenly silent in thought. “Well, the only harvest of the year, I guess. But that makes it even more important!”

“Is that, like, new?” Dash asked. “Pretend we've been gone a few years.”

“Hm.” Pinkie scratched at her chin. “Yup! This is the third annual harvest festival! Have you... have you really been gone that long?” The usual frenetic energy in her voice seemed to die, replaced by the high, soft pitch of wonder and melancholy.

Even longer. Rarity hid the frown that tried to mar her face. “I suppose we have, Pinkie. But that's just life, I'm afraid. We can't stay fillies forever. The world called us, and we answered.”

“Yeah, but Ponyville will always be your home, right?” Pinkie stared at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

Lie. Make her feel better.

Rarity smiled. “Of course, dear. Why, the moment I stepped off the train, it felt just like old times.”

“Heh, yeah.” Dash smiled a smile that looked anything but happy. “Just like home.”

Pinkie looked between them, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Then, just as quickly, she was all smiles again. Her face filled with the joy and laughter forever bubbling in her soul, and she spun between them, draping an arm over each of their shoulders. “Oh, you girls! Of course Ponyville will always be your home. And that makes this your first harvest festival!”

There, all better. You're so generous.

“So, Pinkie.” Rarity lifted Pinkie's arm from her shoulder and stepped away. “Tell us about this festival? Is all of this,” she waved a hoof at the feast around them, “for it?”

“Yup!” Pinkie danced away, leaving Dash unbalanced for a moment. She spun around the tables of treats as she spoke, pointing to this particular marvel or that. “Every family makes something for the festival! Applejack brings cider, Bon Bon brings candies, Carrot Top brings... well, carrots. Twilight brings books.” She paused to sigh quietly and shake her head. “And the Cakes bring dessert! Everypony in town will be there!”

“Nice. When is it?” Dash stepped around a heap of danishes to inspect a sculpture as large as she was. The dark chocolate was carved in the shape of a pegasus, mortally wounded by a candy spear. Chocolate syrup ran from its wounds and collected in a small tray at its base, where some hidden mechanism recirculated it through the statue. She stuck a hoof in the molten flow and licked it clean. “Mm, not bad!”

“It used to be on the day before Nightmare Night, but Mayor Mare said that made things too busy.” Pinkie walked up beside Dash and handed her an orange slice. “Try that with the chocolate. Anyway, now it's held on the equinox.”

“The equinox?” Rarity blinked. “You mean, tomorrow?”

“Yup!” She handed Dash another orange slice, and another, then finally just gave her the rest of the orange. “Jeez, Dash. Don't they feed you enough in Cloudsdale?”

Dash ducked her head. “Well, uh, you know... flying takes a lot of energy.”

Rarity squinted at her, and Dash suddenly found something of interest on the far side of the room. Pinkie glanced between them, a vaguely confused look on her face.

“Anyway, we didn't mean to bother you on such a busy day,” Rarity said to break the awkward silence. “We'll let you get back to—”

“Bother!” Pinkie was in Rarity's face so fast she must have teleported. “Silly, friends are never a bother! Especially when they can help bake!”

Rarity blinked. Her sister's words, “Go visit Pinkie,” sounded in her mind. “I'm sorry, dear. Help bake?”

“Uh huh!” Pinkie began dragging Rarity past the counter into the kitchen. Dash followed along behind them with a bemused expression. “With the three of us working together, we'll be done in no time!”

“No.”

“But Rarity...” Pinkie whined.

“No.” Rarity set her hoof down on the floor. “I will help you bake. I will wear the apron. I will even get my hooves dirty with syrup!” She held a foreleg up to her head, her eyes closed to mime a swoon. “But I will not, repeat not, wear that hat.”

Pinkie seemed to deflate, a sorrowful pout dragging down her face. The dejected chef's hat in her hooves, so recently offered to Rarity, sagged down to the floor as if in equal despair.

And just as quickly she was back up, the chef's hat extended to Rainbow Dash. “Dashie, would you like to—”

“Sure!” Dash snagged the hat with her teeth and flipped it up into the air, managing to catch it perfectly atop her head. “Heh, neat! Look, Rares! I'm a chef!”

That remained to be seen. Rarity chuckled and shook her head, then trotted around the huge island counter to the stove. At some point while she was in Fillydelphia, the Cakes had invested in a new kitchen, and now they boasted one of the most complete collections of culinary equipment Rarity had ever seen. A massive stainless steel range dominated the room, flanked by cupboards and pantries filled with every imaginable ingredient. Barrels – actual barrels – filled with flour and sugar were stacked higher than she was. More chocolate than she had ever seen in her life occupied an entire closet. She could only guess what the ingredients stuffed into the dozens of casks and tins and cans were used for.

“So, what are we making?” she asked.

“Five hundred banana nut muffins!” came the muffled reply. Rarity turned to see Pinkie's rump and bushy tail sticking from a pantry. A moment later the rest of the pony emerged, dragging a huge sack of flour behind her. She pulled it over to the counter where the rest of the ingredients already waited. “You know how to bake muffins, right?”

Rarity thought back to her own attempts at baking with her sweet little sister.

“Rarity! The fire department's here again!” Sweetie called from outside.

“Ugh! Tell them I just need a minute!” she called back. The thick black smoke pouring from the stove made it hard to see, but she was fairly sure the timer had less than thirty seconds left.

“Ask if they would like some cookies!”

There was a moment's pause from outside. Something loud popped in the oven, and the torrent of smoke doubled. She crouched a bit lower, where the air was still breathable.

"They say you need to leave now!” Sweetie's voice returned.

She scowled. “Fine, but if these are underdone, it's their fault!”

“Of course I do, darling,” she said. “Why, baking is just like sewing. You take your ingredients and stitch them together. Then, uh, toss them in the oven.” She looked down at the sack of flour and gave it a little frown. That metaphor needed a bit of work.

“Great!” Pinkie turned to Dash. “Dashie, can you bake?”

“Not at all!”

“Great!” Apparently, either response was great for Pinkie. She dug through a drawer of implements and pulled out a mallet. “Can you break walnuts?”

“Can I?!” Dash grabbed the mallet between her jaws and stared around the room, looking for unfortunate walnuts to assault. Pinkie pointed to a sack in the corner, and Dash was on it in a flash. Within moments the loud crack of walnuts meeting a gruesome end filled the kitchen.

Sometimes enthusiasm really was a substitute for ability, Rarity mused, watching her. Pinkie, meanwhile, pulled an enormous mixing bowl from beneath the counter and set it up top. Rarity was fairly sure she could have taken a bath in it.

“Okay, we've got the flour,” Pinkie said. “Rarity, get two cups of baking soda?” She pointed a hoof to the opposite counter, where a variety of bowls and measuring cups were set out.

“Certainly, darling.” Rarity trotted over and looked down. Four bowls filled with seemingly identical white powder looked back. She shrugged and levitated a large measuring cup over and filled with two scoops, then walked it back to Pinkie.

Pinkie gave it a glance. “That's cornstarch.”

Oh. Rarity ducked her head and retreated back to the counter. She dumped the cornstarch back in its bowl, and refilled the cup from another.

“That's powdered sugar.” Pinkie barely even looked up that time.

Rarity frowned. How could she possibly tell the difference? She gave the powdered sugar a little sniff and sneezed.

Back to the bowls again. She dumped the powdered sugar and gave the two remaining bowls a hard look. One looked like more sugar, while the other seemed to sparkle in the light, almost like salt. She shrugged and scooped up the powdery one.

She hadn't even turned around when she heard Pinkie's voice: “That's flour.”

“Seriously?” Rarity dumped the 'flour,' if that's indeed what it was, then refilled her cup from the final bowl. “Haven't you ever heard of labels?”

“Whaaaat? Labels? That takes out all the fun!” Pinkie snatched Rarity's measuring cup from the air, gave it a quick glance, then dumped it in the massive vat.

“But what if you get something wrong?” Rarity asked. “Won't that mess up the recipe?”

“Maybe, or maybe you'll make something amazing!” Pinkie added a generous heap of butter to the batter. “Something nopony has ever never ever tasted before! Something...” She leaned down and pressed her cheek against Rarity's. Her breath tickled Rarity's ear as she whispered in a voice deep and smokey and just a little bit sexy. “Something wonderful.”

Oh. Rarity blinked at the mixing bowl, which was vibrating on the counter as the modern electric beaters slowly blended its contents into a smooth, creamy mass. “So, what was wrong with all those other things?”

“You need baking soda, Rarity. Duh!” Pinkie stuck the tip of her hoof in the mix and then licked it clean. She smacked her lips a few times, a considering look on her face, before pouring more milk into the bowl. “Dashie! How are those nuts coming?”

The clock-like cracking sound from the other side of the kitchen stopped. Dash spun around with the mallet still in her mouth; countless walnut shell fragments were nestled in her mane or sticking to her face and shoulders. The floor around her was a veritable sea of walnut husks, and they crunched loudly beneath her hooves as she gathered up the few bits of walnut meat that had attempted to escape and added them to the pile on her counter.

“Uh, good?” She brushed the crushed nuts into a bowl with her wing and trotted over to Pinkie. “I think that's, like, at least a few teaspoons.”

Rarity gave the contents of the bowl a peek. It was nearly overflowing with nuts. “You mean cups, dear?”

“Whatever. I don't use the metric system.” Dash trotted back to the walnut graveyard to retrieve her mallet. “Need anything else broken, Pinkie?”

“Hm, nope. I think that's enough.” Pinkie slowly sifted the nuts into the mix. “Now we need bananas!”

The banana nut muffins were delicious – Pinkie insisted that they each try one, for “quality control” purposes. After the muffins came loaves of zucchini bread, followed by dollops of peanut butter fudge dipped in chocolate. Cookies frosted with buttermilk icing dyed in each of their colors rounded out the lunch hour. The early afternoon was spent making peanut brittle, which was a new experience for Rarity, and provoked a short argument over whether the brittle should be cut into neat squares or simply shattered carelessly into uneven fragments. Needless to say, Dash and her mallet won out.

Evening found them putting the finishing touches on a batch of caramel apples. Rarity valiantly tried to finish one, but her stomach rebelled before she was half done. An entire day of eating such sinful sweets finally caught up with her. She let out a quiet little groan of disappointment and set the half-eaten apple back on its tray.

Just as quickly it was gone. She blinked and looked over to see Dash happily devouring the rest, core and all. The pegasus was like a bottomless pit.

Well, you wanted to feed her more, didn't you? Rarity watched Dash in quiet awe, then chuckled. She owed Sweetie Belle a hug, it seemed.

“Whew! Thanks girls. This would've taken all day if you hadn't shown up!” Pinkie said.

“It was our pleasure, darling,” Rarity said. “I think I learned more about baking today than I did in my whole life prior to this.” For instance, she had learned how not to set the kitchen on fire. That alone made this day worth it.

“Yeah, and the snacks were awesome!” Dash burped loudly, then sheepishly held her hoof in front of her mouth. “Er, 'scuse me.”

“Manners, dear?” Rarity sighed. She would have scolded Dash more thoroughly, but years of experience had taught her the futility of that. Instead she simply rolled her eyes and took another shallow sip from her glass of water.

“Heh, sorry.” Dash looked anything but. She rubbed her belly with a hoof and flopped out on one of the cushions strewn about Pinkie's room, where they had retreated after the baking was done. There simply wasn't enough room for them downstairs with all the treats.

“So you two will be at the festival tomorrow, right?” Pinkie grabbed a pillow in her mouth and dragged it over to them. The look on her face was bright and attentive, but much more focused than Rarity was used to seeing from her. Apparently she had learned to switch off the randomness, or at least rein it in a little bit.

“Well, I hadn't given it much thought.” Rarity gave Dash a quick glance. They hadn't discussed any plans for tomorrow – so far, this vacation hadn't featured a significant degree of forethought. Each day's activities had been decided on the hoof. “It sounds fun, though. What do you think, Dash?”

“Sounds good to me. Didn't have any other plans, you know?”

“Smart choice, Dashie.” Pinkie leaned over to jab Dash in the ribs with her hoof, provoking a pained groan from the pegasus. “Everypony will be there!”

“So what is there to do at this festival?” Rarity settled onto her own cushion, careful not to get any of the chocolate syrup or powdered sugar or vanilla extract from her hooves onto the fabric. Somehow, Pinkie managed to keep a very clean home, which was amazing when one considered both her general temperament and the fact that a pair of twins still lived in the house.

“Hm.” Pinkie made a great show of thinking, scratching her chin while gazing up at the ceiling, as though somepony might have written the answer there. “There's a lot of food, and... mostly there's just a lot of food. And ponies! Everypony will be there!”

“Yes, you said that.” Still, it would be another chance to re-immerse herself in the small town life of Ponyville, and there was a lot to say for that. Also, it might be another chance to catch Sweetie out with whoever she was dating. She hummed quietly.

“So, are you bringing anypony?” Dash asked. The question, though harmless and directed at Pinkie, was enough to give Rarity a jolt of surprise. Pinkie, with somepony?

“Maybe!”

Dash and Rarity exchanged a glance, but didn't press the issue. No good could come of that. The extra moment gave Rarity a chance for a worrisome thought.

“Oh, is this the sort of event where couples are expected?” she asked. Normally she had no trouble finding a date for social events, even if her motives for dating them were suspect when viewed from a distance. Bright Mark, the unicorn whose bed she had shared just a few nights back, was merely the latest in a long line of stallions whose company she had enjoyed. But Ponyville lacked his type; there were, quite literally, no stallions in Ponyville she could imagine herself with.

Oh, now suddenly you're picky? Nopony here meets your standards, but by Celestia if one did you'd fuck them without a second thought. Maybe you ought to imagine yourself with sompony from this town. It would be healthy for a change.

“It is, but don't worry, Rarity. Everypony knows you two are visiting from out of town, and besides, you'll be together.” She finished with a small smile and her eyes narrowed in a very un-Pinkie Pie way. To Rarity's ears, there seemed to be an emphasis on the word “together.”

Dash, of course, noticed nothing. “Heh, yeah, you can be my date, Rares. We'll be the awesomest couple at the party!” She covered her snout with a hoof and snorted back a laugh.

“Oh, Rainbow Dash, you're so droll.” Rarity kept her eyes on Pinkie as she spoke. Pinkie, for her part, was all smiles. Innocent, her face said, no ulterior motives here, no siree. Just like Sweetie Belle. Rarity wondered for a moment if perhaps her friends were conspiring in some sort of match-making scheme, but almost burst out laughing. The idea of Pinkie participating in a conspiracy theory was simply too absurd for words.

“It's just for funsies, Rarity,” Pinkie said. She lay down on her pillow with a degree of calm and stillness that would have been remarkable for her five years ago. Now, it seemed, she was able to sit in one spot without bouncing around the room.

“Will all the girls be there?” Dash asked. She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up with her forelegs. Her ears were swiveled forward at full attention.

“Yup! Even Twilight comes, though sometimes she's late and she never eats enough treats.” Pinkie looked wistful at that, melancholy for her friend's obvious suffering. An instant later her face was again alight. “She's super fun to tease, though! And she has to bring her coltfriend this year!”

Now Rarity's ears perked up. Their homegrown princess was still a private mare, even if she had come a long way from the bookish, stand-offish recluse who came to their town all those years ago. She had been circumspect about her 'friend' when they spoke earlier, almost as if she were embarrassed to be in so emotional as a relationship.

“Oh yeah? Is she doing somepony?” Dash, being Dash, cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“Ahem! Dash, one does not gossip about one's friends and their love lives!” Rarity stuck her nose in the air and waited for Dash to make a disappointed sound, then grinned. “Ha! Kidding, of course. Tell us everything, Pinkie.”

“Hmmm...” Pinkie made a show of looking around the room, as though Twilight might be hiding somewhere amongst the toys and stuffed animals that littered her room. “Mm... Nope!”

“What?” Rarity jolted upright, treading on the border of affront from the abrupt denial. “Pinkie, you can't just bring up a topic like that, then refuse to talk! This is important information. We need details.” She leaned forward. “Lurid details.”

“Yeah, lur... what Rarity said.” Dash added. She was sitting up, her wings partly flared in sudden enthusiasm.

“You want lurid details?” Pinkie said the word slowly, as though tasting it in her mouth. She grinned and leaned forward. “Let's trade, Rarity. I'll give you a lurid detail if you give me a salacious detail about your love life.” She waggled an eyebrow at the unicorn.

That shut Rarity up. The mere fact that Pinkie knew a word like “salacious” and was able to use it in a sentence was stunning enough. Worse, though, was the knowing look in Pinkie's eyes. She licked her lips and cast about for some way out of the conversation.

Dash, blessedly, came to the rescue. “Ha! Good luck with that, Pinks. Rarity never talks about what goes on in her bed.” She gave Rarity an exaggerated wink.

And just as well, isn't it? We'd be here a while if you did.

“Discretion is a virtue for cultured mares,” she said. She tipped her head, snout high in the air, ears turned back. Still, she couldn't help the tiny grin pulling at her lips. “Usually, that is. Are you sure you can't tell us a bit about Twilight's beau? This... 'Turner'?”

“Sorry, Rarity.” Pinkie really did look sorry. “Buuut... he'll be there tomorrow. You can ask her all the questions you want, then. And him too!”

“So we sit around and eat and tease Twilight?” Dash asked. “Huh... sounds fun.”

“That's the spirit, Dashie!” Pinkie laughed and shot a hoof out to ruffle Dash's mane, provoking a short wrestling match between the two that ended with them both giggling on their backs on the floor.

Rarity watched their display quietly. Something about the scene tugged at the back of her mind. There was something unusual here, something strange, even though these were two of her closest friends. Two mares she knew as well as anypony in the world, but for some reason she felt oddly out of place. It took her several minutes of quiet contemplation, while Pinkie and Dash continued their play, before she realized what was different about tonight.

She'd never been alone with Pinkie and Dash.

In retrospect, it made sense. All six of them were strong friends, but even within those bounds there were demarcations. Twilight was the center of their band, the one who tied ponies as different as Rarity and Pinkie Pie together. But when Twilight wasn't around, they tended to spin apart into their separate orbits: Rarity and Fluttershy; Pinkie and Dash and Applejack. Without Twilight's arrival in the town, she might never have known these two as more than passing acquaintances.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face. Pinkie and Dash had stopped their tussling and were looking at her.

“Hey, you okay, Rares?” Dash asked. Her head was twisted at an angle, thanks to the mouthful of her mane Pinkie was tugging at. She struggled to free herself for a moment, then gave up and turned her attention back to Rarity.

“Yes...” Her voice caught, and she coughed into her hoof. “Sorry, yes. I was just thinking how lucky we all are.”

“Lucky?” Dash managed to wriggle a hoof between herself and Pinkie's neck and succeeded in prying the other mare off.

Rarity nodded and made a show of looking around the room. “All this, all you. I don't know what I did to deserve it. Was it just chance that I was in charge of decorations for that Summer Sun Celebration? Or that you, Dash, were in charge of the weather that day? Was it just happenstance that Twilight met us, and chose us to help her confront Nightmare Moon?”

“What? Naw.” Dash waved a hoof dismissively. “Look at us! We're the best friends that ever were! Even if Twilight hadn't met us that day, we'd still have found each other. It's, like, fate or something.”

They both turned to Pinkie, who was chewing on a stuffed alligator. She blinked at the sudden attention and spat the toy out. “Don't look at me! I throw parties for everypony, especially introverted hermit librarian ponies!”

“Well, regardless, I feel lucky,” Rarity said. “Maybe we'd have all become friends anyway, or maybe not. I just can't imagine life without you two or the others.”

And yet, you left them anyway. You don't have to imagine life without them – you already have it.

Dash must've been thinking something similar. The cocky smile slid from her face, replaced by a distant, pensive look. Her wings settled back to her body, and the tips of her ears seemed to wilt. Pinkie glanced between them, a frown growing on her face as the silence stretched out.

“C'mon, pouty ponies! Smile!” She reached around Dash's head and pulled her cheeks back, contorting her face into a painful grin. Dash shoved her off, and just like that they were back to wrestling.

Rarity chuckled at their display. Some ponies were simply impossible to be unhappy around, and she had always counted her friends in that category. She was a lucky pony indeed.

The wrestling continued, with Rarity playing a mostly uninvolved observer. The one time Dash and Pinkie attempted to include her in their games, she squawked and protested until they let her be, though not before her coat was smeared with the syrup and flour and other remains of their day baking. The grime didn't bother her for once.

Eventually they tired, or had their fill for the day of hoof-twisting and mane-pulling. They talked of old times, of their adventures and follies. Again, seeing them laugh together, Rarity was reminded how out of place she was. But tonight she felt included; she felt at home.

By the time the stories began to run dry, the sun had set and it was clear they would be spending the night. A “baking sleepover,” Pinkie called it, though the baking was long since done. Rarity could have easily walked home, but the novelty of sleeping at Pinkie's house was enough of a draw to stay.

Besides, Dash would be here. And Dash needed her. She told herself that over and over until she began to believe it.

“Well girls, I'm afraid it's time for little pink ponies to go to bedsies.” Pinkie stood from her cushion and stretched. Although she was the largest and roundest of the six, she still managed to move with an almost feline grace. She was, Rarity was forced to admit, as confident with her body as Rarity herself, without the obsessive upkeep and pampering.

“I'll take the first bath,” she continued. “Dashie can have the second. That way Rarity can take as long as she wants.”

“Sounds good,” Dash said before Rarity had a chance to act affronted. Pinkie darted out of the room before Rarity could so much as give her an arch look.

“Really.” Rarity sniffed. “I don't take that long.”

Dash shrugged. “Don't look at me. I prefer bird baths.”

Bird baths? An image of Dash splashing around in a shallow stone fountain, jostling for space with sparrows and bluejays, stuck in Rarity's mind. Her prismatic mane, slicked back against her head, sparkled in the light of Rarity's imaginary sun. The sound of running water from the adjacent bathroom gave the thought an additional realism.

“So, tomorrow should be fun,” Dash said, breaking Rarity's train of thought before it could go anywhere interesting. “We haven't all been together since the, uh...” She paused for less than a heartbeat, her eyes glancing off to the side. “Since... you know.”

Right. Rarity followed Dash's gaze out the window, where silver-rimmed clouds collected around the setting moon. Dark clouds, as thick beneath her hooves as wet cotton, beaded with each step and left hoof-shaped puddles behind her. The blustery wind was cold and heavy, and she shivered whenever she came to a stop. The pegasi around her, adapted to the chill of the high empty skies, gave her an occasional sympathetic glance. She smiled her appreciation at them and continued forward. Up ahead, at the edge of the cloud bank, Twilight and Fluttershy stood close beside Rainbow Dash. The Wonder Bolt's coat appeared almost gray, her normally colorful mane lifeless and wan. A thick splint wrapped in gauze entombed her left foreleg, and she held it awkwardly against her chest. But worse than the physical wound was the look on her face – lost, like a foal torn from her parents and tossed into the wide, dark, unforgiving world.

“Yes, since then.” Rarity cleared her throat. The sound of water in the bathroom tapered off, followed by a quiet melodic sound that she assumed was Pinkie singing to herself as she washed. “You know, I was thinking earlier. I never spent much time with you and Pinkie before.”

“Heh, yeah. Weird, isn't it?” Dash turned back from the window and gave Rarity a small smile. “I guess we didn't have much in common back then.”

And you think you do now? You're still fooling yourself.

“Well, we've been through a lot together. And friends... well, friends are rare in Fillydelphia.”

Dash's ears swiveled toward her. “Whatcha mean? There's, like, a million ponies in that city.”

“Yes, but the crowds I travel in...” Rarity traced a circle on the floor with her hoof. “Ponies aren't there to make friends. They're getting famous, or getting rich. We're all just climbing the ladder, Dash.”

Bright Mark didn't seem like he was 'just climbing the ladder.' Maybe the problem's not with other ponies. Maybe the problem's with you.

“Wow.” Dash gave her wings a little flap, stirring a breeze that set the curtains across the room rustling. “That's, uh... nice? You like that?”

Rarity gave her a perfect smile. She knew, from years of practice, that her eyes would betray nothing. “Of course, dear. It's the price of a glamorous life, after all.”

Dash had nothing to say to that. She looked down at the floor, an unreadable expression on her face. Rarity waited a moment for her to respond. Nothing. She shrugged and let the silence drag out. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward – more like the quiet calm that accompanied their massage sessions, or the few minutes in bed the previous night before either had fallen asleep.

The silence was broken by Pinkie's return. She trotted in humming and dripping water, her mane wrapped in a huge towel that seemed to grow with every passing moment. Even Rarity, who had a considerable collection of large towels, was amazed.

“Okay Dashie, your turn!” Pinkie grabbed a cushion with her teeth and carried it over to Rarity for her seat. “Try not to use all the hot water. That's Rarity's job.”

“Ha! Touche, Pinkie.” Rarity held a hoof over her chest to mime a mortal blow. Dash rolled her eyes at them both before she trotted off to the bathroom. Within moments the quiet rush of faucets occupied the silence.

Alone, with Pinkie Pie. When was the last time this happened? Rarity cast her memory back through the years in an attempt to recall such a meeting. She had seen Pinkie for dress fittings, but that was a strictly business engagement, even if no bits had changed hooves. Not a social gathering, like this. Not voluntary. Rarity hurriedly combed through years of friendships, thousands of nights spent with her friends in search of a single other instance she had sat down, alone, with Pinkie Pie.

Nothing else came. Aside from their unfortunate time spent together on the train cart back from Dodge Junction, Rarity had never willingly spent time with this mare.

“What’s wrong, Rarity?” Pinkie asked as she settled down on the cushion next to her. “Already partied out?”

Is she thinking this too? Does it bother her? Rarity frowned at the thoughts and tried to shove them away. “Sorry, darling. I was just thinking that you and I never spent much time together, back when I lived here. Isn’t that odd?”

“Hm…. Nope!” Pinkie was all smiles.

“Oh.” The quick response caught Rarity flat-hooved. “Don’t you think that’s a little unusual, though? I mean, we’ve always been such good friends...” She trailed off. Such good friends that what, exactly?

“Are we such good friends?” Pinkie tilted her head; the question seemed addressed as much to herself as Rarity.

Rarity gawked at her. “Pinkie!” She tried to summon indignation into her voice but found herself at a loss. Instead she stumbled forward, grasping at flimsy threads. “Well, of course we are... We’re always there for each other, and we... we’ve gone on adventures together, we confronted dragons, saved Equestria... Isn’t that friendship?”

“Maybe.” The smile was still there, but the expression on Pinkie’s face was penetrating, as though she saw past the careful illusions Rarity clothed herself in. “Or is friendship going to the spa with somepony every week? Or taking tea at the castle on cold winter days?”

“Or attending baking sleepovers?” Rarity countered.

Pinkie grinned. “Or attending baking sleepovers! Maybe there is hope for us.”

Rarity exhaled and felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Of course, darling. We may not have been as close as some of the other girls but, well, look at us now.” Rarity glanced down at her sticky hooves, smeared with flour and syrup and chocolate and even a few bits of smooshed zucchini. “You know, I think I would have enjoyed this back then, too.”

“Mhm.” Pinkie’s smile never wavered. She glanced briefly to the side, where behind a thin door they could hear Dash splashing in the bathtub. There would be no shortage of cold water pooling on the floor, Rarity feared. “You and Dashie never spent much time together, either.”

“Yes, well, not every pony shares the same interests. We didn’t have much in common.”

Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t?” The unspoken question hung between them.

“And as for now...” Rarity continued after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Well, ponies can change. I mean, look at me! Here, at a baking sleepover!”

Pinkie nodded slowly. Rarity would have called the expression on her face thoughtful, if such a sentiment weren’t wildly out of character for the Pinkie she knew.

“You think you can help her?” Pinkie asked, her eyes still on the bathroom door. Her voice was far quieter, almost a whisper.

Rarity frowned at the tone in Pinkie’s voice and turned her head to the door. She thought about her answer for nearly a minute before speaking. “I don’t know. But we have to try, don’t we? What kind of friends would we be, otherwise? She’s hurting.”

“She is,” Pinkie said. The slosh of water ceased behind the door, followed by the creak of floorboards. It was almost Rarity’s turn in the bath. “And what about you?”

Rarity glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean, dear?”

“How is Fillydelphia treating you?” Pinkie’s expression was all innocence again. “I never had a chance to ask. Are you happy?”

Right. Rarity willed herself to relax. Her life was perfect, as far as everypony else was concerned. None of her... troubles had ever bubbled through to the surface. “Why, just fine, of course. My shop there is more successful than I could have dreamed. The social scene in Fillydelphia is simply to die for. I am quite comfortable.”

“But are you happy?”

Rarity let the tiniest scowl mar her face. “I just said, Pinkie—”

“You said you were comfortable. You said you were successful. But are you happy? Are those words syn-on-y-mous?” Pinkie stretched the last word out, tasting each syllable in her mouth before speaking them.

“They’re close enough,” Rarity snapped. She would have said more, but the door finally opened, and a clean-but-damp Rainbow Dash trotted into the room.

“Whew, that felt good,” she said, oblivious to the tension in the air. “All yours, Rares.”

“Wonderful, darling.” Rarity rose to her hooves, pointedly ignoring Pinkie. She gave Dash a smile as she passed her into the bathroom. The quiet mumble of indistinct conversation resumed as soon as she shut the door, but even that was lost as she twisted the faucet on with a brief touch of magic. She liked her baths hot.

A few minutes in the tub left her feeling both cleaner and a tad remorseful. Pinkie Pie was just being Pinkie Pie, and there was no need to get snippy with her. Her uncanny ability to guess or intuit things that were best left unsaid was annoying, but ultimately had no great impact on the world. What was one secret, between friends?

Between friends. Rarity mulled over the words, rolling them around in her head. She settled into the water, until only the tip of her snout stuck above the surface, and let her worries simmer away. Her mane floated like a cloud around her. It would be a pain to dry and style, but despite her best efforts earlier to keep it safe during their baking adventures, it had picked up its share of flour and syrup and even a bit of chocolate. Normally she considered chocolate a mare’s best friend, but never when it was in her hair.

A burst of laughter sounded through the door. Rarity sat up and strained to hear what might have provoked it, but their conversation was too low to comprehend. After a moment, she settled back into the water and let her breath out in a long, slow sigh.

At least Dash was enjoying her evening. For tonight, that was enough.