Winter started about two weeks ago. The Pegasi were eager to come off of their clouds and bring some snow to Equestria. In fact, it seems they were a little too eager; within three days, every road was covered in five feet of snow. That’s why I’m stuck in this seedy tavern on the outskirts of Canterlot for a couple more days until they clear the roads the Pegasi so shortsightedly filled.

“Damn it all,” I mutter under my breath. “I need to be in Baltimare by tomorrow.”

I sigh, thinking about how this current bit of ill luck is going to set back my schedule. This next performance was supposed to be the unveiling of particularly interesting new trick that might draw some new crowds.

“Lousy luck that this would all happen now,” I think as I sip the remaining dregs of apple cider in my mug.

I suppose I should reconsider my pervious “seedy” classification for this tavern. It’s actually not that bad of a place. A bar brawl now and then, yes, but it stays pretty quiet on the whole. The tavern is dimly lit, with the smells of oak wood and dinner’s tulip soup mingling overhead. I have stayed here on several occasions, and know a few of the regulars by name. It’s a relatively small place, but it’s still big enough to hold a decent crowd. It sometimes becomes a destination for caravans travelling between Baltimare and Manehatten, so its size is justified.

I’ve taken my usual seat by the window so as to maintain my view of the crystal clear night sky. Probably a token attempt by the Pegasi to try and help with the road problem. My seat is close enough to the roaring fire to keep my flank warm, yet far away enough from the bar to keep inquiring ponies from attempting to strike up a conversation. The tavern is fairly empty compared to most other times that I’ve been here. Strange, considering the conditions outside. Only a couple ponies linger in the hall; the rest have drifted into the realm of dreams, comfortable in the straw beds of the tavern’s accommodations.

  The owners are friendly enough. The wife, the mare that’s tending bar, has a nice green tint to her coat with a lovely short curly yellow mane. The stallion, who seems to be off the floor tonight, has a bright vivid red coat with a clashing blue mane. They’re truly in the business of hospitality, which is nice; a lot of taverns only care about making a little extra money where ever they can.

I give a small laugh to that and think about just almost everypony is out to get money. Even myself, whom I consider to linger on the right side of honest, has been known to swindle a few bits here and there. Those occasions, of course, were emergencies. I do live from show to show.

My thoughts are interrupted by the chatter of two fillies as they run by. One of them bumps my table; whatever was left in my mug tips and spills on to my lap. As I look down at my now sticky wet coat in disgust I hear a soft young voice behind me.

“Girls! Look what you’ve done.”

I look up to see the two stop, look around in confusion, and, once the source of the voice was located, stare at the ground. Both of them gave a mutter of apology before scurrying off to resume their esoteric game. I too turn to look at where the voice is coming from, and am presented with a young mare in a light grey coat and a jet black mane that cascades down to cover half of her face. I put her at my same age, maybe a few seasons older. She glares at the two fillies for a moment before turning a pair of great blue eyes upon me.

“I’m terribly sorry for them. I’ll be sure to get you a new mug and something to clean you up.” She says with a small apologetic smile.

“Why? It was neither your fault for spilling the drink nor your responsibility to take care of it.” I  give my freshly ruined coat a quick shake. Seems there was more in the mug than I had thought. As I assess the damage, I notice that some had sloshed on to my had, which I had previously set on the table. I quickly grab it so as that it doesn’t get ruined even more by the cider.

“Oh no not my hat!” I said with a small ting of anger in my voice. But realizing that the grey mare was still there I quickly recomposed myself.

“Well… my Mom and Dad own this tavern so I like to help out if things go wrong or they just need an extra hoof to help out.” she says looking at me with a little bit of question as to why I get so angry over an old blue hat.

Funny I didn’t know that the couple who owned the tavern had a daughter. But then again I never really paid too much attention to the people in this tavern to begin with.

“Well then Trixie would be very grateful for that, thank you.” I say with a smile.

And with that she turns and walks off towards the kitchen. What a nice girl, she must have gotten that from her parents, I think to myself. I then walk over to the fire and set my hat by it so as to help it dry faster.

“Those to fillies are just lucky that a mare such as I can fix this.” I mumble bitterly under my breath.

I then return back to my seat and stare out the window thinking of those two fillies and how they reminded me of my fillyhood. My, what a long time ago that seems like. I went through so much as a filly; what and all with what happened with my family…