Little slices of life around a little village in Equestria, as recorded in the journal of its weather captain. (Text story/ask blog, main story updates M/W/F, asks/side content Tu/Th.) From the beginning
Had a bit of a squall blow through after we finished getting the carriage settled.
It’s funny. Before this trip, I’d have been one of the first in the air the moment the weather turned bad. When we first left Horseshoe Corners, it was still a really strong habit to fly off and deal with bad weather – even when I was in harness. Now I’m used to letting the local weatherponies do their own job rather than rushing to do it for them.
So, naturally, we wind up somewhere the local weatherponies – well, weatherpony – didn’t exactly spring promptly into action.
I knew unruly weather drifted in past Witherby from time to time, but I think some part of me chalked it up to the Ravenous Reef and there not being many ponies here, and left it at that. By the eyerolls and vaguely exasperated mutters, they’re used to this from Stargazer. And she did eventually put in an appearance and shoo the storm away from town before it got really awkward for me.
“No harm done, in the end,” somepony said afterwards. And I suppose that’s true – this time.
On the one hoof, weather’s easier to deal with before it gets a chance to build up force, so catching it early – say, before it swoops over town – is always the way I’m used to it going. There was a chance that Stargazer’s general distraction from her nominal task could get somepony hurt someday.
On the other... I’m not her boss. And I may normally be in charge of weather for the region, but right now, that’s not my job – it’s Comet Trail’s. And just as I needed to let weatherponies do their work for the length of this trip – Silver Shoes aside – I have to trust him in that overseer’s capacity.
Maybe I should talk to Stargazer sometime – though what I’ll say is beyond me so far. But I don’t think that day’s today.
Who’d have thought that Cold Front would be good with foals? Or, more to the point I guess, that they’d be good with him?
The handymare, Measure Twice, didn’t seem too happy about being yanked from repairs-in-progress for some of the locals to go tend to a shuttered building. Cold Front surmised that the so-eager messenger must have put more import behind the errand than it really called for because of who it was for, and explained that we really didn’t need much - “Just let us in the barn, and unless there’s some trick to getting the windows open, we can do the rest.” He even offered to lend a hoof to make up for the interruption, and though she demurred, at least she seemed to appreciate the courtesy.
Once the doors were open and Measure Twice trotted back towards the farm she’d been working on, Cold Front endured Flame’s barrage of excited questions, sneaking in a few quick replies whenever the colt paused for breath. And he did it without ever once pointing out that somepony local was right there hanging up the harness, or even suggesting that he go bother one of the other guardsponies.
Kind of makes me wonder if he’s got somepony waiting back home. Or maybe, one day in the past, he was the colt who’d been so excited by the uniform and the armour and the... the weight, the gravity, of the job. Or the colt who’d sit or stand opposite one in a hallway, mimicking him, hoping one day to be in his horseshoes.
It was a more positive side of him than I’d previously seen, anyway – something other than the prim-and-proper curmudgeon who resented somepony just acting the part of his important calling.
Introductions continued from there. Hearthfire had already spoken up; then, in no particular order that I could tell, came the O’Nettles who ran the cafe we’d stopped next to – Silver, mother of the very excitable Flame; her husband Wooly; and their daughter Marie. Then the doctor, Patch, and a helpful-pony-about-town who went by the name Puppydog Tails. Rodeo Glitz – the one who’d made that largely unsuccessful bid to instil some civilized graces in Snapdragon – and Rodeo Buck, the ranchers, and their mother Country Chique; a few more from the family were apparently up at the ranch yet, along with the handymare. And also present for the go-round of introductions were the tanner and leatherworker, Oakseed and Saddleblaze. Absent were the mail ponies – Rush Delivery and Sleet-and-Snow, both of whom I’ve met on their way through Horseshoe Corners – and the weather pony, Stargazer, whose absence was dismissed as “probably kicking back on a cloud somewhere, watching the sky.” And not said in a tone of voice that suggested any vigilance about the actual weather.
My professional speculation on that matter was curtailed by Star Bright continuing with our side of the introductions. “The two that went off with that Snapdragon character are Heartsblood and Crimson Tear – Crimson Tear being the one with the rough voice,” he explained. “For all that peculiar sense of humour that leads them to occasionally delight in startling ponies, they’re actually quite good-hearted, in a ‘tough love’ sort of way. This, as some may have already heard, is Cold Front, and he’s been a fixture in the Royal Night Guard since before I came to Canterlot.”
He paused, casting a glance my way. I shrugged; trying to be secretive didn’t seem to have much point with how Flame had carried on already, dropping my name here and there as he went. Star Bright apparently read my meaning there, saying, “Stormchaser here is not technically of the Guard at all – one of my regulars had a tussle with some nasty beast just outside Horseshoe Corners, and left me in somewhat dire need of help if I was to reach my destination in time. As he was close enough in size and built to fit poor Cloud Cover’s gear without needing extensive work, and a close match for my team’s overall colour scheme – or lack-of-colour scheme, anyway – he graciously offered to assist.”
That litany made it all sound rather more impressive than I remembered it being. “Well... maybe not all that graciously,” I confessed.
“You agreed within minutes of me making the need known,” he pointed out. “As for myself, I am Star Bright – not a Prince of anything, but a candidate; I might yet become one if I’m very good and eat all my vegetables. And if there turns out to be need enough for such a thing.”
A momentary silence fell after that; then Hearthfire said, “Well! We should get you all settled in. Now, even if you’re spending nights up at the barn,” this to Cold Front and I, “please do feel free to come my way for breakfast.”
With that, we set off. With just the two of us, the carriage was a hefty burden – and it wasn’t a form of work we’d actually done all that much of lately, compared to flying with it – but it was manageable. Cold Front had gone from chilly to cordial, no longer phrasing his remarks to me in as few words as possible, as rarely as possible, but I still didn’t dare try to escalate that to being really sociable – especially when we had to spare our breath for hauling.
Which meant I had plenty of time to think, and it belatedly occurred to me that Oakseed and Saddleblaze had in fact been introduced as a couple.
It had been very quick and offhand - “Oakseed and his beau, Saddleblaze” - in the midst of saying what they did. It wasn’t anything neutral like “partner” which could have been confused for a professional relationship, and sure, the two stallions had certainly looked the part of a couple, but the introduction has been so casual. Just throwing it out like it wasn’t a big deal. And apparently, for these ponies, it wasn’t.
Just as Star Bright was about to start on introductions, there was a fresh stir at the edge of the... well, “crowd” might not be a very good word for it, but the group of ponies around us.
It was a Diomaredes – had to be. In overall form she might be mistaken for an earth pony, though I hadn’t exactly seen many mares that powerfully built. Not all that many stallions, for that matter. The fangs were another definite clue.
And the fact that she had actual blood on her actual face was a dead giveaway. I may have already come to the conclusion that some of my traveling companions fed on blood – and had it confirmed – but having it inescapably right there in front of me was another matter; I probably boggled a bit in spite of my best efforts to let it pass.
“I’m here, I’m here,” she said, and paused to look over the carriage – and presumably Star Bright next to it; I wasn’t quite sure which one she was referring to when she went on, “Huh. Fancy! So this is what all the excitement’s about? You lot are making as much noise as a— ”
Perhaps fortunately, the substance of her simile was cut off by one of the mares hissing, “Snapdragon! Couldn’t you at least wash off a little, first?”
The newcomer heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Can’t you make up your minds? First your little anklebiter says it’s super important to come right now—”
“That’s my little anklebiter, you know,” the exasperated mother cut in.
“Whatever. He says that kind of thing a lot, so at first I didn’t think much of it, but when I saw this many ponies around I figured he might actually have a point. So I drop what I’m doing and get over here – and something’s probably found my lunch by now, thanks – and you say I should have waited instead? And missed out on whatever’s happening here? Come on, Glitz!” Then she grinned. “Besides, I’m sure they’ve seen worse!”
Somehow, the grin wasn’t actually that bad. Maybe I’d already got the biggest shock out of my system; maybe being around the bat ponies, and their befanged grins, had made me a little numb to that particular shock. Snapdragon had nastier teeth than both the bat ponies put together, yet nopony flinched.
Heartsblood and Crimson Tear grinned right back. “Getting blood properly out of your coat takes forever,” Crimson Tear rasped in reply. “And I’ve definitely seen worse, but I’m not so sure about better!”
“Well, hey, you know how to greet a mare!” Snapdragon laughed. “You two like shark?”
“We’ll just have to find out,” Heartsblood purred. “Assuming you or some uninvited guest hasn’t already finished off the good part.”
“More where that came from, if so,” she said philosophically.
Crimson Tear, meanwhile, glanced over at the rest of us; Star Bright sent the unspoken query over to Cold Front with a look of his own, and the pegasus waved a hoof. “Two of us can handle the carriage on the ground,” he said.
Considering how distant he’d been for a while, that “us” was actually kind of encouraging.
“Go on, then. Have fun,” Star Bright said with a laugh. Then, to Snapdragon, he said, “Don’t rough them up too badly, hmm? I still need them to get home if I don’t want Princess Luna to have sharp words for me about losing the carriage.”
“No promises!” she half-sang.
Star Bright heaved a heavy sigh of his own. “I lose more guards that way,” he drawled as the bat ponies slipped out of harness. Heartsblood said something that it was probably for the best that I didn’t hear clearly; the other two laughed, and the trio went off towards the beach.
Silence reigned for a few moments. Everypony was looking at everypony else, as though nopony quite dared to ask if what seemed to have just happened really had done. Finally, Star Bright said, “All things considered, from what I’ve been told my first meeting with a Diomaredes could have gone rather worse.”
We aimed to set down in the middle of the densest part of town. There were some buildings scattered farther out – farmhouses and such that looked to be tenanted, as well as some of the closed-up ones – but that cluster seemed like the best place to meet the locals.
We made a neat landing on the path, though we didn’t bother with the fancy sliding stop; we hit the ground running and just slowed our step from there. And seemingly before we’d quite done so, something small, green, and very excitable was practically underfoot.
The colt was talking so fast, and bouncing around so much as he did so, that I couldn’t clearly make out what he was saying. I could identify “Royal Guard” because he put some special stress on it when he said it; other than that, a few names – Dewdrop’s, and my own.
Obviously we’d come across Dewdrop’s young penpal. And he seemed to be under the impression that Cold Front was, in fact, me.
Star Bright, leaning out of the carriage, apparently did at least as well as I did at following him. “That’s not Stormchaser,” he pointed out. “That’s Cold Front, and he’s been in Luna’s guard for years.”
If he thought that would defuse the colt, he was mistaken. “Really?! Have you had to fight a lot of monsters? Were they scary? Did they—” And on he went in that vein.
Cold Front, for his part, seemed more bemused than anything. And the colt’s rapid-fire babbling didn’t even give anypony enough time to answer his occasional queries and set the record straight. Before he ran out of steam and risked things getting really awkward, a small group of ponies had emerged from one of the nearby buildings, a cafe of some sort by the look of it – and one of those ponies cut through the din with a raised voice. “Flame O’Nettle! You leave those poor ponies alone this instant!”
“But mooooom—”
“Don’t you ‘but mom’ me! Come over here, now, and let these ponies say why they’re here.”
For all Star Bright had talked about shelving the formality, staying formal seemed like the safest course until we’d at least been invited to stay. Not quite so rigid as usual – the bat ponies pointedly looked back towards the carriage, and after a moment, so did Cold Front, so I felt no qualms about doing so myself. Everypony’s attention (except that one colt’s) seemed to be on him, actually, as he stepped down and shook out his wings.
“I’m sorry for the commotion,” he began. “I’m Star Bright, of Princess Luna’s court. I was out west on some pressing business, and on my way back, Princess Fauna sent word suggesting I stop by here. I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for us to visit for some days?”
“Princess Fauna?” one of the nearby stallions, with a mug and a muffin on his flank, repeated.
“Yes,” the alicorn confirmed.
“Asked you to come here?”
Cheerfully, “That’s right!”
“Well, imagine that! A genuine Princess sending ponies to little old Witherby! Hearthfire’s the name – I’ve got a few rooms spare, it wouldn’t be a bother at all to put you up in one...” The stallion trailed off into silence as he looked the rest of the party over.
Cold Front put in, “We don’t need much. If there’s spare space in a barn or something where we can put the carriage, that’d be fine, we can stay with it. It was the longest speech I’d heard from him in days, and it was all I could do to not stare.
“Oh! That, certainly – we’ve got a few places that aren’t being used, but our handymare keeps them in good shape. They shouldn’t need more than a bit of airing out. One of them’s got a barn attached.”
“Flame,” said the colt’s mother, “go find Measure Twice and help her get the empty barn ready for the Prince’s guards.”
The colt looked from us to his mother and back. “But, Mom...” It wasn’t quite the plaintive wail from before – torn, if I was any judge, rather than disappointed.
“You want to help them, don’t you? Go on, go! I think they needed her help up at the ranch.”
“Okay!” And just like that, off he went.
There was a moment of silence. One of the mares looked from Cold Front to me and back, then to me again. “And you are...?”
Considering what Flame had been going on about at first, the implication seemed pretty obvious to me. Might as well put it out in the open. “Stormchaser, yes. Of Horseshoe Corners, sort of filling in. Good to meet you at last.”
We had a bit of a briefing session before we headed out for the day.
“What do you know about the Diomaredes?” Star Bright asked me.
“Little enough,” I confessed, “though more than most ponies in Horseshoe Corners. They’re predators – haven’t heard any word of them eating ponies, but it still makes some ponies nervous. More of them than there are, uh, ‘common’ ponies around Witherby. And they’re all mares – not sure what they do with colts, or if they just don’t have any.”
“Send them off to live with their fathers, as I understand it,” the alicorn replied smoothly. “Or whomever they can find to take them. Luna passed along some advice from Fauna overnight,” he explained, “but what we know is scant enough that every little bit helps – she had not mentioned, for instance, that they outnumber the ‘everyday’ ponies of Witherby.” Then he turned his gaze to the bat ponies.
They shrugged. Heartsblood said, “That’s all more than I knew. All I can remember is tall tales from my foalhood.”
“Well, they’re likely to have an especial interest in you two,” Star Bright advised them. “Stallions who have anything in common with their diet may be something of a novelty. Just don’t expect much in the way of lasting affection.
“On a related note, Fauna surmised that any of them which interact with other ponies regularly may enjoy trying to shock us. Feel free to turn that on its head if you’re so inclined. I’ve decided that I’ve had enough of formal appearances for the time being, so I mean to treat this as a vacation – for all of us.” He glanced at me. “Though if you’d rather stay incognito, it may not be entirely a bad thing to keep at least some vestige of the usual trappings.”
In some ways it was an appealing thought... but was it likely to be worth the effort, really? It was entirely possible that somepony there would know or figure out who I was anyway. I shrugged. “Might have to play it by ear.”
“Fair enough. But certainly the rest of you – from the moment hooves hit the ground, you’re free to be yourselves. There’s no need for the parade – if it’s been a rough flight, you’re free to show it. I’m not expecting you to exaggerate it, of course, but let yourselves be approachable.”
“If the Diomaredes like to unnerve them,” Crimson Tear mused, “they’ll probably not have much trouble with us.”
“Other than that, I suppose we’ll have to... play it by ear, indeed. That said – shall we go?”
So we went. We swung out towards the coast in a bit of a crosswind, and then we went along it from there, with that crosswind becoming a tailwind. We got a good view of the Ravenous Reef – and a storm brewing over it, though it went out to sea and became nopony’s problem by the time buildings came into view.
At first I thought my estimate of Witherby as small even next to Horseshoe Corners might have been in error, just by the number of buildings in the place. Which could mean that either my knowledge of there being more Diomaredes than other ponies might be in error, or that there might be a lot of Diomaredes. But by the time we swung low enough to watch for a landing place, I noticed that every last window on some of them was shuttered – not a single one open to the sunshine.
It wasn’t the dilapidation of Silver Shoes, but maybe there was something to Princess Fauna’s concerns about the place after all.
A little while later still, he murmured over my ears, “So what about you?”
“Huh?” My brain struggled to cycle back a bit – we hadn’t been much concerned with that conversation over the intervening time.
“What do you enjoy doing when you’ve a moment to be yourself – and can be convinced to take it?”
“Oh!” Context thus reestablished, thinking became a little easier. I hadn’t had an answer at the time I asked it, but even without really focusing my attention on it, an answer of sorts had come together anyway. “Honestly, part of the reason I do keep at work as much as I do is that I like flying. The harder the better. There’s nothing quite like running down a storm.”
“Mmh. That race must have scratched quite an itch for you,” he observed.
“Did it ever.” I tilted my head up to look at him, not that I could actually see him in the darkness. “What are you going to do with that brandy?”
A shrug; even without seeing it, I could feel his shoulders shift. “Throw a party in Witherby, perhaps. Or, failing that, once we get you back home.” After a moment’s pause, he asked, “So in light of that fondness for flying, have you considered trying to follow up with the Wonderbolts?”
It was a good question, and not one to which I had a ready answer. If I liked tricky flying, that would be a path worth following, wouldn’t it? It’d be a lot more of it than I’d get handling weather, a lot more often. It’d change from a humble thing that didn’t always get noticed to something where getting noticed was the point, and I’d have to be good and ready to have ponies watching what I did.
Could I get used to that? I’d been glad enough to turn into a showpony in Silver Shoes. I hadn’t even given the crowd of onlookers a second thought in Summerbreeze. And Celestia knew ponies looked at me – and the rest of us – everywhere this entourage went.
It hadn’t really been such a bad thing, had it?
“You’ve got a point,” I said at last.
“Well. It’s much too late to be making life-altering decisions.” His wing curled a bit tighter around me. “I should let you rest.”
He also had a point with that. “G’night,” I returned, nestled back against him, and closed my eyes.
I was expecting thoughts to keep me awake for a while. Instead, I drifted off right away. And despite being right there next to him, I didn’t dream about him, at least not much at all – I dreamed of racing through the skies of the places we’d visited, usually with Comet Trail, sometimes with anonymous ponies in Wonderbolts uniforms, and once, yes, with Star Bright. They weren’t all what I’d call happy dreams – sometimes everything went wrong, in ways either common or improbable.
But even then... the flying felt good.
With the last vestiges of those images still dancing in my mind when the wake-up call found us, I was pensive, maybe even a little subdued. I really have some thinking to do when I get back home.
“So what do you do,” I asked a bit later, “when you’re not finding wishes worth granting?”
There was more than enough of a bite in the air to justify setting up the tents; of course, with magic, that was the work of seconds, rather than minutes, making it an even easier decision. And while the carriage was so elaborate I sometimes felt like I was making it go down in value just being near it, the tents were simple affairs. Technically three of them were packed along, each suitable for two ponies, but since one of the other three will be on watch anyway, one consequence of my finally being bold enough to talk to the stallion that’s been so much on my mind has been that nopony felt a need to clear ground for the third tent. The bat ponies greeted that decision cheerfully, since this campsite’s a little short on actual smooth ground and that meant they didn’t have to squeeze in too much to fit all the tents; Cold Front accepted it calmly enough that I could actually believe he might be coming round on the whole business.
Still not going to muddy the waters by pressing him about it, though.
Now it was full night; a vague spot of light on one wall of the tent marked the fire, scarcely more than coals by now, and otherwise it was pitch dark. Knowing exactly where he was lying next to me, I could make out Star Bright’s outline in the gloom, and that was about it.
“The honest truth is, I do a great deal of studying,” he replied with some rue. “After all, ‘be careful what you wish for’ is one of the oldest refrains in Equestria. Some of the old tales are the stuff of fancy – myth and legend that have grown in the telling even if they weren’t tall tales to begin with – but there’s still a great deal of verified fact dealing with the unintended consequences of even the best-intended acts.”
“Just studying?” I pressed. “I thought you came from a high court in Canterlot.”
“Technically, I did,” he shot back. “Luna’s court. I know the sort you’re probably thinking, the glittering galas and all that, where, as they’re so fond of putting it, ‘everypony who is anypony’ wants to be seen. My impression, from the outside looking in mind you, is that they’re less grand and more gruelling than rumour would care to admit. But that is Celestia’s court. Princess Luna is of course welcome to attend, and often does – but her court is a much quieter affair. And until this journey, my very existence has been another such quiet affair. There’s still some pomp and ceremony – in some ways, rather more than Princess Celestia favours for her court – but the details of its goings-on are the stuff of dreams, of whispers from one pony to another, not the sort that get talked about openly by day. And while those galas and parties are work for those who attend them regularly, in Luna’s train no opportunity for a lesson was to be missed.”
I blinked. Oh, I personally hadn’t found myself longing for anything I’d heard about in courtly balls and the like, but it had seemed to me like some ponies enjoyed them; I hadn’t really considered that for some ponies, sociability might actually be the work of their lives
I definitely hadn’t considered just how much the Princesses might actually want to accomplish at court.
“All right,” I granted. “But when you can put the work aside... what then? What do you enjoy?”
He took a breath. Paused for a long moment. Then, distantly, he said, “Do you know, I’m actually not sure. All my adult life has been plunged into one form of study or another, and most of my adolescence, too.”
He said it so offhand, like it was so natural. That was part of what made it wrench inside me, and made me settle a hoof over his. “That’s not right. Alicorn you may be, but you’re still a pony. You should be allowed to be a pony, now and then.”
And maybe I should follow my own advice, too. Comet Trail would certainly say so. Rough Rider might not use those exact words, but it’d amount to much the same thing. Even Tumbledown had sometimes told me I ought to find more time in life to relax.
“I suppose I never really knew what I was missing, until... until these last few days, really.”
Oh.
And wasn’t that a fine thing to saddle someone with... I made myself draw a breath, slow, full, and steady. “Should... I apologize?”
“No,” he said, his voice suddenly sharp, before my last word had quite faded. Softly once again, he went on, “Perhaps my life may be more complicated going forward, knowing just how fine it is to treasure another pony’s company like this. But my life will be richer for it.”
Now that could go to my head, if I let it. And yet... “Wasn’t the same with the ones before, huh?”
“It was quite pleasant,” he said quickly. “And I should be sad to lose the good favour of those partners. But much as I enjoyed those moments of diversion, it was in part because I could go back into my studies with renewed focus. With you, it’s been... good for its own sake. It has still eased some distractions, but it’s not as though I’ve had much else to occupy my days since you spoke up, either.”
“Or nights, hmmm?” Not the cleverest quip anypony has ever made, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t my quick way with words that had caught his attention in the first place...
“Or nights,” he echoed, and pulled in a little closer.
I haven’t met one before, or even seen one, but I have at least heard of them, and there wasn’t anything else it could be – bird’s head, talons, and wing’s, cat’s body, tail, and hindpaws. The biggest surprise was that this one was rather smaller than I expected.
Once he’d been waved down, he shifted from circling overhead into a steep dive and a skidding stop that would’ve done the Academy proud, and that was when I find myself needing to suddenly look down. The top of his head, held high and proud as it was, came up to my withers. If that. Rather than the white head and tawny body that all the pictures I’d seen had featured, he had a black head with white around the eyes and on the bill, shading into a brighter yellow body with black spots all over, but it was the size that really caught my eye.
“The name’s Gunnar,” he introduced himself. “Fastest courier this side of Las Pegasus.”
After duly introducing the lot of us, Star Bright said, “Las Pegasus, hm? I would think we’re a bit out of your way.”
Gunnar shrugged. “Well, when the boss says ‘take this to Cedar Rapids,’ I go to Cedar Rapids. Besides, I’m not about to complain for the chance to run a new circuit for a while. But I saw the campfire, figured I’m not going to get there by nightfall anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt to touch down for a bit and get warm. Thanks for the invite, by the way.” He paused to reach into his satchel, pull out a bottle, and set it down near the fire.
“Any news from the east?” Star Bright enquired next.
“Eh... nothing you don’t probably know already,” the griffon confessed. “Winter’s about ready to roll out. Harvests this year have been decent – ponies aren’t going to starve for it over the winter – but not record-setting. You’re probably bigger news than any of that, yourself.”
Star Bright laughed. “Old news, by now, at least in Cedar Rapids.”
“So I don’t need to feel too put out about not mentioning you to ponies there,” Gunnar said with a laugh of us own. “I wouldn’t have, either way – unless you wanted me to; I’m a courier, not a travelling gossip; I wouldn’t be a courier if I couldn’t keep my beak shut.”
Star Bright took a breath. “So,” he said, slowly and carefully, “what are your plans for the night?”
The words were common enough, nothing remarkable there. But the way he said it gripped my attention, and it was a struggle to avoid being obvious about it. That was a pony who was definitely hoping for a particular answer – or not for one, maybe.
“Oh, nothing fancy. Still got an hour or two of light before I need to make camp for the night, so I just figured I’d warm up my stew and myself, catch up on gossip if there was any to be had, and press on a little longer.” As he said this, he stretched out his wings, holding them cupped towards the fire.
I thought Star Bright was going to invite him to stay the night. He’d already obviously decided against maintaining his serene, distant persona when he waved the griffon down in the first place, and again when he introduced the lot of us. He was pretty amiable when he could be, and sharing space by the fire wouldn’t cost us much of anything. Just a little bit of the all-too-limited time in private that he and I might have together, which is certainly why I was feeling a bit wistful about that expectation.
And yet he stayed silent for a few conspicuous moments. When he did finally speak, what he said was, “Well, I suppose you know your own limits better than a few strangers would.”
“I appreciate the thought behind that,” he said. “But it’s the principle of the thing. Even if I wouldn’t arrive tonight either way, the more progress I make tonight, the earlier in the day I’ll get there, and the more time I’ll have to enjoy the town.”
He stayed a few minutes more, then he took to the skies once more, heading more or less the way we’d come.
Star Bright put a wing over my withers. “Perhaps I should have offered such hospitality as we could offer,” he mused, confirming my earlier thoughts of him. “But I don’t think he’d have wanted to accept anyway, and this saves everypony stress of asking or refusing. And gives us a little more private time together.”
One more day should bring us to Witherby. The wind’s been neither with us nor against us, so we’re likely to arrive in the evening unless there’s a major shift in that department. Which could happen – this close to the Ravenous Reef, you can’t really count on the weather for much of anything, least of all being steady one day to the next. But it’s pretty likely we’ll be there by sundown tomorrow, even allowing for some headwind, as long as we don’t wind up completely grounded.
After dinner was eaten (or, well, drunk, I guess), the fact that I still knew next to nothing about my various companions really struck me. And this could be the last night I’d have away from other ponies to do something about it. Star Bright was discussing something with Heartsblood, and I wasn’t feeling nearly bold enough to approach Cold Front about it at this point, so that left Crimson Tear, who was giving the carriage a looking-over.
Well, that gave me somewhere to start that wasn’t completely wide open and lazy. I stopped within conversational distance, but out of the way, and asked, “Do you know a lot about wagons and such?”
“Only enough to spot some obvious signs of trouble and patch them up before they are trouble,” he replied, ducking down to inspect one of the axles. “I couldn’t fix a wheel if it breaks, but I can see a spoke that’s warping and reinforce it, say. Why?”
Honesty seemed like the best policy. “Just curious. I feel a bit strange having gone this far together, and been gone so long, without coming to actually know you all.”
He paused, looking over his shoulder. “You really want to know?”
It wasn’t a tone that said ‘no you don’t’ - he sounded surprised. Maybe even a bit gratified. “Yeah,” I replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Most ponies are uncomfortable around us,” he responded in turn. “Especially once they learn what we eat.”
I could understand that. But I wasn’t clueless enough to say so out loud.
He set me to checking supply stocks, and filled me in a little as we both worked. He and Heartsblood are cousins – not close family, but related – from a little colony of their kind on the edge of the Everfree Forest. Just inside it, specifically. The Royal Night Guard has had some of them in it since the Castle of the Two Sisters was in use, and they’ve come to that role again since Luna’s return. “It’s the best way we have to see the rest of Equestria,” he explained, “and if we sometimes make ponies nervous, well, in our line of work that’s not always a bad thing.”
I was trying to work out a halfway polite way to ask if his voice was more normal where he came from when he answered it for me.
“There was a fire when I was young. Nopony died, but some of us were hurt, and I breathed in too much smoke. I’ve sounded like this ever since.”
That made me wince. “Does it… still hurt?” I’d been sick enough, a couple times in my life, to sound pretty raspy myself, and at that point talking a lot did hurt.
But he shook his head. “Oh, no. Makes it hard to speak loudly, but just like this? It’s fine.”
“Oh, that’s a relief.”
A laugh. “Himself is right; you have a good heart. But – hold on...”
I blinked, and started to wriggle out of the tight space that was the back of the carriage. “What’s up?”
“Something moving above us, I think...”
And before I had any time to speculate on just what sort of something that might be, a voice called down from above. “Hello the camp! Got room by the fire for one more down there?”
Things are definitely a bit chilly with Cold Front.
Comet Trail will probably be greatly amused by that line, but I just can’t think of another way to put it, so it stays. He hasn’t said a single word to me since Cedar Rapids, and I’ve been following the advice I was given and not doing so either. He hasn’t been looking at me much that I’ve seen, either. Not that I’ve been staring at him, of course. I keep half-expecting another shoe to drop somewhere, but I’m hoping not to be the one that makes it happen by antagonizing him.
The tension’s uncomfortable, but, well, what else could I do? It was pretty uncomfortable having things with Star Bright hanging unresolved, too. Now, at least, even if it still feels strange if I stop to think about it, my situation with him feels good.
I’m not letting myself get distracted by thoughts of that while we’re flying, though. It only took the one close call at the Academy for me to learn to keep my thoughts under control in the air; all my other brushes with trouble in Comet Trail’s company were safely on the ground where there wasn’t any risk of getting somepony hurt for it. There’s plenty of time for warm, fuzzy feelings with all four hooves on solid dirt, or failing that, a good, stable cloud. And while it’s not for Cold Front’s sake that I’m keeping to that discipline, I don’t imagine it can hurt; if anything I can do at this point has a chance of thawing him out, it’s likely to be being professional enough to do the job right when I’m on the job, regardless of how close I’ve come to my boss since we set out.
I owe it to my teammates, I owe it to Star Bright, and I owe it to myself – in rising order of importance. Much though I’d hate to lose Star Bright’s favour now that I’ve gained it, that’s not the real reason I’m determined to do this right. It’d feel bad enough to just honestly be not up to the task, whatever the task in question; far worse if I could have been, should have been, but just plain screwed up in a way that was entirely within my control.
No. I may need to ask for a bit of help here or there – for Celestia’s sake, I probably should ask more than I do. I keep hearing there’s no shame in that, and Star Bright certainly hasn’t shown any qualms about lending his retinue a hoof, whether it be literally like that rubdown back in Bitsburgh, or something else like the pick-me-up he gave Crimson Tear yesterday morning. A bit harder to convince myself that it’s okay to ask, as Comet Trail has certainly tried to get me to see on more than one occasion, but if I stop and think about it, I do know that’s okay. I might even do things wrong, and while that won’t be a good feeling, at least it’ll be something I can learn from. But I will not allow myself to be negligent.
We’re a few days out of Witherby yet. The original plan was to zig-zag from town to town on the way back to Horseshoe Corners, spending a day or two in each; but as our stay in Witherby might be a bit more extended than that, we’re saving a bit of time by cutting straight across country. If the wind holds or turns in our favour, tomorrow should bring us into land that’s technically within the greater weather district of Horseshoe Corners, though only in the sense that the local ponies would turn to us first if something bigger than they can handle is in the making. We won’t be back in the range of daily weather work from Horseshoe Corners until after we leave Witherby.
It’s strange. Part of me can’t wait to be home, and yet another part wishes that homecoming weren’t looming quite so imminently. Not just the part that’s come to enjoy Star Bright’s company and attention, either. I want to learn more about all the ponies I’m with – what Star Bright enjoys in his free time, what he really wants to do with his life when there aren’t expectations being piled upon him; just how like more familiar ponies – and how different – Heartsblood and Crimson Tear really are, and what they’re really like beneath the standoffish attitude that I’ve seen enough cracks in to know it for a facade; what drives Cold Front to be so very correct in his duties, even as all those around him, including his kind-of-royal charge, try to relax a little.
And I’ve seen more of Equestria in the past few weeks than in the rest of my life put together, yet the maps we’ve been using tell me that even that is such a small part of the whole. Sure, the hills are becoming more familiar now, rather than less, and within the next day or two we’ll be in sight of the coast that’s marked a familiar border since I was first shown around the region. But even if some of the places we’ve visited have been under hard times to some degree or other, I can look back now and be amazed at just how different each of them was, despite being made up of all the familiar kinds of ponies.
I’m not sure I’ll ever really be content just minding the weather around one small town. And maybe that’s just as well for a pegasus that survived Wonderbolts Academy with a certain amount of distinction, but that weather work is all I’ve otherwise known in my life, and leaving it behind is kind of a frightening prospect.
There’s only so much I can do to avoid somepony when I work in harness right next to him.
While Star Bright was saying farewell to the Mayor, I nerved up to ask Heartsblood (who had the advantage over Crimson Tear of at least a partial night’s sleep, after all) just what I should do about Cold Front. His answer was, “As little as possible. Focus on the task at hand. You’ll need to coordinate with him for takeoff and especially for landings; apart from that, try to pay him no mind. If he tries to give you trouble, talk to one of us – or to Himself. Most likely he’ll be studiously ignoring you, though, and in your shoes I’d do the same.”
Not exactly encouraging. But it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve needed to be coolly civil. Between those past events and his advice, hopefully I’d get through the days without major incident.
And he actually gave me a wing-hug to go with the advice. That was a bit of a strange experience, with those wings, but it helped lend some sense of camaraderie that was quite welcome. No more than that – he’s never given any indication that he wanted anything to be more than platonic – but friendly all the same.
It’s still so strange that the alicorn and the bat ponies are more approachable than the fellow pegasus.
Anyway, we left Cedar Rapids with not terribly much fanfare. I wasn’t sure if we’d really accomplished anything for the town while we were there, but it didn’t seem like we really needed to. Maybe accomplishing something for ourselves was good enough.
We found some flat ground to touch down and make camp on as the sun was edging towards the horizon; with the autumn chill in the air, nopony really wanted to keep flying, and it wasn’t as though we were in a particular hurry anymore. The bat ponies made ready to do their usual disappearing act as I was minding the campfire for dinner for the rest of us, and this time my store of newfound bravery convinced me that enough was enough. I was about to up and ask what it was they were still taking such pains to hide from everypony else when everything just slotted into place. What came out was, “It’s blood, isn’t it?”
Heartsblood paused. “Whatever do you mean?”
I blinked. Did anypony actually say that when they didn’t know full well what was up? Well… stories suggested Luna might. And they were from Luna’s court. And I had kind of skipped ahead to the conclusion. I looked up at him – looked him square in the eye, not flinching from that shocking red gaze – and he looked… curious. Maybe a little expectant. Testing me, maybe; his expression seemed like Page Turner’s when he wanted a student to explain how they’d come to some idea.
All right, then.
“You’ve never eaten in public, or even around the rest of us,” I started. “At least not since I came along. That suggests two things to me – first, that you need to eat something most ponies wouldn’t be comfortable with, and second, that maybe you can’t eat things we would.”
I thought over the next link in the chain, and went a bit sideways instead. “If I go by the example of bats – you’re obviously not just bats but it’s still somewhere to start. I’ve heard of three sorts of bats, mostly in light of farmers loving or hating them. They love the ones that eat bugs, but the ones that eat fruit can be a problem for orchards, and the ones that feed on blood can be bad for livestock. If it was fruit you went for, nopony would care, even if you wound up going for juice rather than eating it whole. So it’s probably not that one.
“So that leaves bugs or blood, either of which, sure, most ponies probably would be a bit uncomfortable around somepony who ate them. But you’ve both got fangs, and some pretty obvious blood references in your names and cutie marks.” Not that most ponies in public ever saw the latter, granted, what with the armour rendering them safely anonymous. “So that suggests to me you’ve got some blood preserved somehow in the carriage.”
“Are you sure you don’t want this job in truth?” he asked at last, flashing a toothy grin. “You’re right, of course. But even around ponies that know about it, we figure it makes things easier on everypony to not have it right in front of them.”
“You’ve probably got a point,” I confessed. “Still, you don’t need to be quite so cagey about me finding out, right?” He just nodded and continued out of my line of sight.
I was just starting to question the wisdom of the whole line of inquiry when Star Bright settled in next to me, levitating a pot over to the fire. “It might not change much right away,” he said as though he was looking straight into my head, “but it’s a step towards bringing down barriers. Even if we’ll be parting ways in the not-too-distant future, I appreciate you trying. It’s through such steps that the less-common races of Equestria can be brought into greater unity with the three tribes.” And just like that, he draped a wing over me and leaned in.
Apparently being out in the wilderness is “discretion” enough for him. Even if part of me still frets about Cold Front, overall I can live with that.
Star Bright set to finding quill, ink, and paper to write a response; I, meanwhile, took the time to get into my armour, and made sure to get it as right as I could. I may have marred the image somewhat by the way I showed up the night before, but I was determined to do it as much justice as I could – any job worth doing was worth doing right, as somepony or other has said.
In the end, after tying up his response with the ribbon the original letter came in and sending the bird back on its way, it was Star Bright who slightly tarnished his own fine image by wearing what was left of the lei, now more greenery than flowers. He obligingly looked over my uniform, helped adjust one of the haunch plates, and that was that; out we went to face destiny, or failing that, breakfast.
Heartsblood and Crimson Tear were in formation on either side of the door, and he nodded at them as he passed between them. Then, once I'd followed him and shut the door, he stopped, looking over his left shoulder at Crimson Tear. “I believe you were on duty yesterday evening,” he observed.
The bat pony bobbed his head slightly. “Yes, sir,” he rasped.
Star Bright squinted – and so did I; the object of his attention was looking a little droopy. “Have you been here all night?”
“Sir.”
“'Sir' is not an answer,” Star Bright pointed out, his voice droll. “'Sir' is an evasion.”
“Sir.” The stern facade cracked enough to admit a sheepish smile. “Thought Cold Front could use the night off, Sir.”
Star Bright looked from him to the door. So did I – at the door which, I recalled, a pony who wasn't keeping his voice down could be quite readily heard through. “And what time did you have this epiphany?”
“Just before you said no more visitors, Sir,” came the reply.
The alicorn considered him for a few moments more. “I see,” he said at last, and smiled. “Well, if you find yourself feeling the fatigue, do let me know, hm? I should be able to fortify you for the day – though you'll need a proper rest come the night.”
“Might be best, Sir.” Sheepish again.
Meanwhile, I was trying to conceal a blush. Which didn't actually get much easier when Star Bright took the wilting bat pony aside to work some magic over him, leaving me standing alone next to Heartsblood, who proceeded to nudge my side with a wing.
“Don't worry about Cold Front,” he murmured to me. “The both of you were looking better when you came out that door than I've seen either of you do in a while. You're good for each other, so we'll keep him in line.”
“I don't want to cause trouble,” I protested.
“You're not the one who I worry about causing trouble,” he replied. “No, I feel more like I should be thanking you. You two just do whatever it is you need to do; so long as you don't throw discretion over a cliff, we'll sit on that old bore for you.”
His words reminded me of Crimson Tear's own, back in Bitsburgh. Somehow, guiltily, it actually felt a little better to hear that neither of them was newly unfond of Cold Front, that there was some history there. I guess it was just knowing that I hadn't personally fouled things up between them. I mumbled some thanks, and then the other two were coming back, with a bit more spring in Crimson Tear's step and a bit more focus in his eyes.
All three of us fell in, and followed Star Bright as he went to face the new day.
On learning that I was familiar with Witherby – and that it wasn't so far out of the way as to be a major diversion in our course – Star Bright became much more positive about the undertaking. “The last thing I wanted to do was risk keeping you and yours apart for Hearth's Warming after all,” he said, tugging a flower off the candied lei we'd largely forgotten about the night before and hovering it over to me while he unrolled a map with his hooves. “But you say it's close to Horseshoe Corners?”
“Close enough for a pegasus to make a day trip of it,” I confirmed around my snack. “More of a hike by ground, the terrain can be a bit rugged.”
“And near the Ravenous Reef... ah, here it is.” His hoof tracked westwards as his magic plucked another dandelion for himself. “And here we are. Not so much of a diversion as I was fearing, indeed!”
“I don't really know as much about the place as I probably should,” I admitted. “But by that same token, I don't think anypony there would recognize me except possibly the mail ponies, and they go by ground – they're not always in town.” I shrugged. “Not sure how much harm it'd do even if they did spot me. It might dampen the mystique a little, but how much, really?”
“Quite likely little enough, it's true,” Star Bright granted. “The important thing is that I be seen expressing some royal interest in the place and its prosperity. We're not after some special event to shift the town's destiny like in Silver Shoes; my magic isn't what's important here. So the form of it is altogether much less important than it has been before.”
A somewhat-related memory dawned, catching me with my mouth full. “Mmm!” I swallowed. “There is one pony there who might know I'm with you – well, along with anyone he's told, if they listened to him. One of the colts in Horseshoe Corners, Dewdrop, has a young penpal there. I can't imagine he hasn't written about your memorable arrival – and your departure with me in tow. Anyone's guess as to how much of it he's talked about, and how much anypony there puts together from it.”
“Colts are something of a mystery to me,” he chuckled. “I know full well I was one once – not all that long ago, even – but somehow I'm not actually very good at figuring out how they think or what they'll do next.”
I didn't want to pry; however curious the messenger, Star Bright's mail was none of my business. But trying to leave the suite would either involve gathering up and putting on my armour first, or just make me come back for it all the more conspicuously later. By way of compromise, I stood over by the side table and nibbled on some mixed nuts.
But when his expression started screaming “bad news,” I couldn't just leave him to stew in it. “Something wrong?” I asked. I could tell that there quite plainly was, but I wanted to at least leave him a graceful way out of going into detail.
“Possibly,” he sighed. “It seems I should divert to another place rather than going directly back. Are you, by chance, familiar with a village called Witherby?”
“Witherby?” I repeated, and blinked; not because it wasn't familiar, but because it was. “It's in our weather district. One weather pony, right next to the Reef – we've had to help out with nasty weather now and then. I've never actually dropped in – I meant to, when I was new in my post, but there was always so much going on... Small place, and next to Horseshoe Corners that's saying something.”
“Hm.” He tapped his hoof against the paper hovering in front of him, making it flutter a bit. “Princess Fauna says there's a tribe of Diomaredes living nearby...”
Oh, right. That was why it had been so easy to put off paying a visit. “So I've heard. They don't seem to bother the Witherby ponies much.”
“Indeed not. And the Princess would like to see that this continues to be the case.”
“I didn't realize that was at risk,” I confessed. “We get mail from them every so often.” Not that Dewdrop's young penpal was likely to know about such details, but surely some message would have been sent if that relationship was showing signs of special tension. “I suppose it's possible Trade Winds just didn't think I needed to know, but it doesn't seem like the sort of thing she'd conceal.” The weather ponies got all around the region, after all – we would be the natural go-to ponies if something needed keeping an eye on.
“If she's worried about their relationship with Witherby, Fauna didn't say as much. But she is concerned over what may happen if Witherby turns into a ghost town.”
That sounded more plausible, now that he mentioned it. Witherby only had a couple families in it, and I hadn't heard of anypony moving in to live there – the Diomaredes scared ponies off, and the weather and beasts that came from the Reef did so even more. So if the ponies all dispersed, and the Diomaredes didn't have any ponies as immediate neighbours, who knew what they'd do? Chieftains came and went, and the next one might not see any point in being nice to ponies at large if they didn't have ponies nearby who might care that they did. I nodded. “Seems a hard thing to fix, though.”
“She's not expecting a specific solution, really,” Star Bright replied. “She's hoping the occasion of my visit – coupled with the message that a genuine Princess is interested in the place – may help kindle some interest in living there. Or at least visiting. After all,” he smiled, “a friendly enough visit can still help increase the population.”
For one confused moment, on the edge of waking, the warmth against me sent me right back home. To Comet Trail. It didn't last to the point that I could embarrass myself - the bed under me was a bit too soft, the form nestled against mine decidedly too big, and his breathing just didn't match.
No, by the time I opened my eyes I knew very well who that was. And the thought still gave me a thrill. But I didn't get to that point without first feeling a rush of homesickness.
Which, I suppose, told me where I really belonged in the long run. At the moment, though - after that rush faded - I was pretty happy to be where I was.
I made a mental note to thank Heartsblood as he stirred behind me, took a deep breath, and stretched. When he nestled back in, I was only too happy to nestle back, and at that point, he nuzzled over my ears. "Mmm. Rest well, dear one?"
There was something oddly formal about that endearment. Comet Trail didn't tend to be all that demonstrative with his affections; when he didn't address me by name, it was usually with something a little simpler. Or earthier, depending on his mood. But considering who was saying it, in that moment it sounded right. And endearment it was, I reflected - a bit wistfully, but without pain or conflict. "Yeah," I replied, and it was the truth; maybe it was just how tired I'd been, after the day's travel and what we'd got up to, but I don't think that would have been enough to keep me from a restless night if I hadn't been good and ready to sleep restfully. "You?"
"The finest I have in quite some time." Star Bright laughed. "Though I do hope Luna stayed out of my dreams. I'm afraid they may have been somewhat... indelicate."
My ears burned. Oh, everypony knew Luna could look into our dreams, even visit them, but most of us didn't really think of it on a daily basis, and that was just as well. "I don't even remember dreaming," I admitted. "But if they were, they were probably pretty similar."
"Just so." He touched his nose to the base of my jaw. "No regrets, I hope?"
"Not about us." What had been so frightening to even dare contemplate before it happened was an easy, pleasant memory now. But I chuckled as I went on, "Kind of wishing I'd taken the time to take off the armour before I showed up at your door, though. Somehow I don't think Cold Front thought very highly of the look I presented when I arrived. And just as I thought I might actually be earning some measure of his respect, too..."
"You may be right," Star Bright confessed ruefully, shifting against me as a woodpecker started doing its thing somewhere outside - at least the bird had had the courtesy to wait until both of us were awake. "Though if I've been reading them right, the other two will be sure he doesn't voice his displeasure. They approve of you - though I hadn't really dared contemplate what they approved of you for!"
"I'd hope they approve of me as a worker, too," I pointed out, because I was pretty sure they did.
"Celestia knows I do," he responded. And somehow, when he said it, it didn't quite fall on the ears as easily and casually as usual. Fortunately for my sense of balance in the world, he added, "Not literally, mind you. At least I don't think so; I haven't sent her a message, and I don't think Luna would have had any reason to discuss it with her. Mind you, I couldn't give an account of my journey without including your timely and effective assistance."
"You're going to do horrible things to my ego," I laughed, which helped keep the sudden surge of trepidation under control. I had to raise my voice to do it - that woodpecker was getting downright strident.
Then suddenly Star Bright stiffened. "Bide a moment. I think that's for me."
He got up and crossed over to the window. The moment his magic took hold of the shutters, the pecking stopped; gently, he eased them open.
It wasn't a woodpecker. It was, in fact, a blue jay. One which somehow gave the impression of being decidedly cross. One which had a bright red ribbon tied around it, the strap - if not the bow on its back - half-obscured by its folded wings, and which was perched on - and had, apparently, brought with it - a scroll tied with a very similar ribbon.
Happy ponies, it seems, will find more reasons to be happy.
Cedar Rapids isn't actually much bigger than Bridle Hill, as it turns out. But the cedar forest that gave the town its name is also the single biggest source of its prosperity: woodwork ranging from figurines to furniture, much but by no means all of it from aromatic cedar, draws in enough bits that the town doesn't lack for anything they need. It's not a place of leisure - even the foals seemed to be pretty busy when we arrived - but it can afford to take some leisure, and the visit of a royal carriage was an excuse for them to do just that. The difference between these busy but affable ponies and the hardscrabble lot in Bridle Hill was stunning.
And yet that very difference seemed to make Star Bright more than a little wistful. Not that I could blame him. The ponies of Bridle Hill weren't so far gone as the dispirited residents of Silver Shoes; they worked just as hard for their life as the ponies here, so far as I could tell, but they didn't get nearly the same rewards for it, most of it thanks to the fickle chance that had left their town almost bereft of resources - even food - while Cedar Rapids was blessed with plenty.
But then, it was obvious that the ponies of Cedar Rapids took great care of the woods that brought them their fortune. I had no idea what had led ponies to settle in Bridle Hill to begin with, so I didn't know how ther fortunes may have changed over the years - or what part they might or might not have played in that.
Cold Front and Crimson Tear got the first break after we'd landed and been introduced; Heartsblood and I shadowed Star Bright along the market lane, while the mayor, a surprisingly soft-spoken and forthright earth stallion despite his name of Silver Tongue, introduced him to some of the merchants and artisans. That a town this size even had a permanent market lane, it occurred to me, was telling in itself... but I tried to put that out of my mind and look serious and attentive.
That attention told me that Star Bright didn't bat an eye at the fancy woodwork, though his gaze lingered somewhat on a bunch of carved birds, arranged on a branch as though they'd come there to perch. His stride actually slowed a moment as he passed by a pony selling candied flowers - and though I couldn't do anything about it then, I silently made a decision.
Once we'd made our way through a gaggle of ponies and entertained some curious foals by (in mine and Heartsblood's cases) being impressive and stern, we wound up at the inn - not much bigger than the one in Horseshoe Corners, if home to more of the town's trademark fine furniture rather than the simpler fare back home. Star Bright exchanged guards, and said he counted me done for the day. I just nodded and made my way out.
It wasn't until I was out of his sight that I counted bits and broke into a trot back up the lane while there was still daylight.
When I got back, Cold Front and Crimson Tear were still stoically flanking the door to his room. Cold Front barely moved a muscle, though by now I'd been around him long enough to know the slight shift of his ears for the acknowledgement he permitted himself to show while he was on duty; Crimson Tear, on the other hoof, looked over me and my burden, and one red eye shifted in a ghost of a wink as he rapped a hoof on the door. "You have a visitor," he announced.
"Come in," came the muffled reply, just as blandly neutral, and without another word, the guard ponies shifted slightly apart, clear of the door.
I took a breath for courage, and let myself in.
The room looked cozy and comfortable - maybe a bit fancier than my own home, but not really fancy. Star Bright was reclining by the fireplace, reading; he looked up as I entered, taking a breath of his own, but then he saw who it was, and whatever he'd been about to say deserted him.
I swallowed, nudging the door shut behind me. "I, uh..." I tugged the lei of candied dandelions up from where I'd hung it around my neck - and a silly sight I must have presented, still in the armour that the waning daylight hadn't given me time to change out of, with that garland of flowers around my neck as I cantered back to the inn. "I thought you might want a bit of a treat."
"Goodness. I didn't dare - didn't expect..." Bemused, even flushing a little, he gave up on words for a moment, levitating the flowers out of my grasp and setting them on a side table near the fireplace. Except for one golden flower that he plucked free, holding in the air before him in a glimmer of dancing lights.
Finally he looked up to me again. "If I may ask... what prompted this?"
"Crimson Tear, actually," I admitted. "Sort of. Back in Bridle Hill."
"Ah?" Confusion warred with... something - hope? Or was that just my own frantic imagination? - in his features. "That matter he'd been not explaining to you?"
It didn't sound like he was fishing - more like he'd honestly not moved to get his nose into whatever our business had been. "Yeah," I said, and the word lingered in the air for a time.
Oh, for the Princesses' sake. If I didn't just get it out there, I was liable to panic and bolt out, and then I'd have nothing but embarrassment to show for it all. "He said... said he thought we might be interested in each other," I blurted. "And - and, well, I guess he was right about me, but I didn't want to impose, but I thought maybe I should see if he was right all around, and... and..." In spite of my frantic thinking, I ran out of words and stuttered to a confused and embarrassed halt.
Then I saw the look in his eyes.
He got up, taking the few steps between us slowly and quietly, and as I stared up at him, gently touched his nose to mine. "You say you didn't want to impose," he murmured, breath warm on my cheek. "I... feared that anything I said might be an imposition."
"Never." The word came out in a rush.
"We live such very different lives," he mused. "And to them we must return. I didn't want to seem like I might be toying with your affections... but I am glad our lives have crossed, Stormchaser, and that you've helped fill a needed post in my retinue is the least of my reasons." He came up beside me, settling a wing over my withers.
And then he turned his head. "No more visitors tonight," he called out.
"Yessir," came Cold Front's immediate reply.
"Now." The alicorn's free wing swept out towards the place he'd been sitting. "Let's you and I be comfortable and share that treat of yours, hmm?"
Feeling more than a little giddy, I followed along.
