Redbird

by Chimpso

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 11336

Even those whose roiling warmth keeps ponies together still feel the cold and the misplacement when doors are closed, and their own principles fight against them.

Heat keeps ponies together, creating new opportunities for conversation and connection when the chilling nights come around. But perhaps the pleasant heat posses a certain moronic ignorance of the world around it, and a venture into the chilling cold helps it realize what its intellect was telling it all along.

Cover and interior artwork by the wonderful DawnMistPony/Wolf-Goddess13.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-24 15:20:02 UTC

Redbird

Redbird

By Chimpso

Artwork by DawnMistPony

It was the beginning of spring in Whitetail Woods.

Winter had been wrapped up, and the frost and snow had been cleared away, but there was still an ever present chill and gentle fog as far as the eyes could see. The forest was not known for being eerie or foreboding, its greenery normally warm and welcoming, but as the first cold days of spring graced the land, Whitetail Woods was the last place most ponies would want to be; alone and cold.

It was the only place Kindle wished to be.

Her steady gallop down the trodden forest path was unhindered by the weather and maddening quiet. While the chilling cold pierced her topaz coat and attacked the skin beneath, her gait was not hindered, and she barely registered the cold as she flicked her normally flowing golden mane – the strands now flailing wildly in the wind – from her face. Her destination was not premeditated, it rarely was, it just mattered that she ran. That she ran in defiance of the obstinate cold and encroaching forest, in defiance of the weather's hindrance of her freedom, and life's forced dictation of her actions.

Not today. Not on this cold, cloudy afternoon. She was in control now.

The trees, most scraggly skeletons of the past winter, some sprouting new leaves, sat unmoving despite the wind. With few leaves to rustle through, it was all quiet, too quiet, maddeningly quiet. The birds, those that had dared returned so early, were silent. Not a single peep, not one chirp. In the forest, Kindle felt as if she were the only thing left alive, and that was just fine with her.

Slowing as she approached a clearing – her hooves scraped and crushed the fine dirt of the forest path. Scrub lay on the fringes of the open space, which was barely large enough to permit a small carriage. It would make a fine spot, a fine spot indeed.

Breathing heavily from her run, her breath flowed from her mouth as a fine foggy cloud. She sat on the grass, then, her heavy breathing and pounding heart demanding rest, eased onto her back. She closed her eyes, feeling the soft grass strands that had penetrated her mane brush up gently against her cheeks. The wind, now hindered by the low shrubbery surrounding her spot of rest, gently lifted strands of her mane across her face as the chill made itself known; her nose feeling congested and cold.

Kindle felt her breathing slow as a rare calm beset her. Raising a hoof, she pushed a strand of hair off of her nose and brushed the rest out of her face. The cold was apparent now. She could feel the shivers starting, but had also forgotten why she was out here, why she had gone into the cold in the first place. The silence and brief calm had caused her wayward mind to momentarily lose it’s footing.

Forcing herself into a more upright position and opening her eyes, she sighed through her nose and shivered again as the gentle howl of the wind passed her ears, signalling another breeze. The woods were in a sorry state; caught in the midst of conflict between two different seasons. It was struggling to pick a side, but spring would win. Winter’s time had passed.

Reality's stubborn claws grasped her mind with every passing gust of wind as her mind gathered itself. Every shiver caused those claws to squeeze, every gust saw them sinking in deeper. The emotions began to flood back in. The run had expelled them, like a sneeze would expel dust. But like a cockroach, they found another hole and wormed their way in. Nothing could stop them, their grasp inescapable, so painful, so stubborn.

Her frustrations culminated, compressing into a ball as her mind tried to will them away, to efface them from its gathering illusion. But the attempts were futile, and the failure only fueled the fire more. Failure begat frustration, frustration begat anger, anger manifested in a scream: piercing and indirect.

Kindle heard her shout resonate through the forest, though no echo was to be heard. She shivered violently now, and not just from the cold. From her sitting position, she put her weight forward and onto her forelegs as she felt herself wanting to throw up; as if her body believed it could solve her dilemma by emptying the contents of her stomach.  Swallowing several times, she tried to force a calm to return to her once again rapid breathing. It wasn’t going anywhere however, she could feel her body giving in, it wanted this, her mind was hopeless to stop it.

A chirp.

It had been so sudden, so unexpected, that her body forgot its troubles from the sheer shock. The perfect silence, save for the blow of the wind and the almost inaudible rustle of what few leaves the trees had, was broken by a series of chirps and peeps. She put her weight further forward, her hind legs rising up as she held herself on one foreleg, the other retracted against her chest as she scanned the grass around her. The sound had come from below, not above. And no bird would have nested in the barren trees. What was a bird doing there so early in the spring?

She stretched forward, peering around the greenery, when she spotted a speck of red in the unanimous green grass. Moving forward to peek over the blades, she saw it.

It was a young bird, sitting stock still yet rocking gently in the breeze. It’s feathers ruffled as her head moved in closer, and it tentatively took a few steps back. It kept one beady black eye focused on her as she shook her hair out of her own eyes to take a closer look at the featherball.

A Redbird, and a young one at that. It looked old enough to fly, but hadn’t taken wing at her approach.  It was still a fledgling; too young to be away from it’s mother. What was it doing on the forest floor?

Laying down on her stomach, Kindle rested her chin on the ground and brought herself relatively eye level with the bird. She didn’t want to move up any further, as she wasn’t particularly keen on risking the bird taking a jab at her eyeballs with it’s shiny black beak, but she was still close enough to see every feather on it’s chest and wings. Said feathers ruffled up again as another gust of wind whipped past, blowing Kindle’s mane into her eyes once more. Grunting, she shook the strands away, and sat to watch the bird.

It wasn’t much of a show, apart from minor movements of it’s head and the rapid darting of it’s eyes, the bird stood still. Kindle couldn’t determine whether or not it was frozen from the cold, fear, or both, but it simply stood on it’s short black legs, head to one side, staring straight at her with one beady black eye.

Taking a dare, Kindle scooched in a little closer. The bird countered by shuffling back against the rough brown bark of the tree behind it, but it had no further room for retreat. She brought her hooves forward, one approaching either side of the bird. It slinked up against the bark, but couldn’t move further – its escape avenues all denied.

Her hooves were now on either side of the bird, slowly closing in. It tried to open it’s wings now, but they were stopped. She felt their fluffiness as she gently clasped the bird between her two hooves and sat up once again. Drawing the bird up to her chest, she held it there as it once again was still, resigning to its fate or just not knowing what was going on.

The unicorn held the small bird there, trying to keep it warm. The mystery of its presence causing her previous worry to fade. Her attention was focused solely on the ball of feathers pressed against her chest as she gently stroked the softness of it’s wings. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Good question!”

Yelping in surprise, Kindle quickly shifted her body around and almost dropped the Redbird, who squirmed in her grasp once again and extended a wing which draped over her clutching legs.

There at the entrance to the clearing, the same one through which she had entered, stood a pegasus. His coat and mane were not unlike her own; his fur and wings a light tan while his mane was a deep and rich chestnut. He wasn’t old, but he certainly wasn’t young, and the green and white checkered sweater he wore didn’t make him seem any younger. He stood there watching her, the beige scarf around his neck completing the fogeyish look and billowing upwards as another gust of wind graced the forest.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. But are you alright? I heard a scream.”

He spoke with an accent that Kindle couldn’t place; seemingly refined and yet with casual inflection. Canterlot? Manehattan? Both? Breaking free from her shock, she gathered herself, the bird still clutched to her chest.

“Umm, yes. Sorry about that,” she stammered meekly. “Everything is fine.”

“Is that a Redbird?” he asked, sounding surprised, before chuckling merrily. “The winter has been too long, It feels like years since I’ve seen one of them. He looks rather young, did you find him by himself?”

“Him?” Kindle asked, “How do you know it’s a Him?”

“He’s red. Female Redbirds are not. Rather strange name for them to have. Regardless, I’m assuming you found him here alone. I wonder how he got here. I also wonder how you got here. It’s going to be raining soon, and it’s cold enough as it is. You probably should have put something warm on before you came out here.”

Kindle head drooped down. She was shivering again now, and she could feel the claw of reality slowly creeping back onto her consciousness. “That didn’t exactly occur to me at the time.”

“How long would it take you to get back?”

That was a good question. Kindle was fairly certain she had never ventured as deep into the woods as she had that day, but as long as she kept the path in sight, she’d always be able to find the way back. She had no idea how long she’d been running for. “I don’t know, half an hour or so?”

“Half an hour? You’ll have frozen half to death by the time you arrive back! If you’d like, my house is not far from here, you can rest there while the storm passes.” His gaze switched to the bird clasped between her hooves. “You could take him with you as well.”

Kindle raised an eyebrow. Experience had taught her not to be as trusting as most ponies were, but the pegasus appeared to be no threat. His kind and verbose demeanor had intrigued her – distancing herself further from her problems as her mind had another quandary to tackle: Take his offer, or not?

Another chilling gust of wind and the plink of a raindrop on her muzzle made up her mind. He was right; she didn’t want to be caught in a rainstorm on such a cold day, and if the run there had taken half an hour as she guessed, then the deflated walk back would take much longer.

“Ok,” was all she said, as the muffled boom of thunder echoed in the distance. It was going to be a thunderstorm; all the more reason to go.

The pegasus simply nodded, then shook his head and scoffed. “Silly me, all this time in the woods isn’t doing my people skills any favors, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Goodwill, and you?”

“Kindle. You have a rather fitting name if I may say so myself,” she smiled and moved to get up, then remembered the Redbird was still clasped between her front hooves.

“My parents were quite the philanthropists, and always looked on the bright side. I guess they hoped to inject some of the positivity into me,” he chuckled again and moved over to her, partially unfolding his left wing so that there was a small amount of space between the feathers and the fur of his body. “Put that little guy in there, I don’t think he’ll react well to you carrying him with your magic.”

Kindle nodded – gently lifting the bird up and placing it in the crook created by Goodwill’s wing. It’s countenance didn’t wane – it still appeared stoic and forlorn, but she imagined it must have felt much warmer. He, she thought, It’s a he.

“Come along then, my house isn’t that far off the beaten track. I know what you’re probably thinking: who would build a house out here? I suppose it’s because it gives me every phase of life really; hot, jubilant summers; quiet, cold winters, all encompassing and immune to the tinkering of other ponies. Autumn is still a treat though, Running Of the Leaves and all. I feel the shakes from my house.” Goodwill watched as Kindle stood up, looking slightly overwhelmed as she did so, and he chuckled nervously. “Apologies, I do ramble. I don’t go into town as often as most and am not usually graced with visitors.”

“That’s quite alright, it’s a fascinating idea,” Kindle said, now standing, “There is so much change in this place, I do remember coming here in the Autumn. It was so different.”

Goodwill nodded, indicating their direction of travel, and they began the walk down the path and out of the clearing. Kindle continued.

“Winter is so different. There are no birds, no sound, just the wind. You can’t even hear the trees rustling.” She looked up at the trees along their path again, many of them still bare; the absence of leaves extending the view of the sky above. “I guess you can see the sky better, but it’s always cloudy and...” she stopped and lightly tapped a hoof on the ground a few times as she tried to find the right word, “tumultuous. So dark and grey and— oh!”

She rubbed her eye from the impact of the raindrop as their presence became more apparent. She could feel the impacts on her head and back; small, but increasing in intensity.

Goodwill chuckled again – she noticed that he did that quite frequently. “Don’t worry, we’ll soon be there.”

Kindle nodded as she once again cast her gaze on the Redbird nesting in Goodwill’s wing. It seemed to have taken notice of the rain and had buried itself in Goodwill’s feathers, allowing the wing to almost close completely despite the fact that it, he, was in there. Kindle smiled, hopefully Goodwill’s home would be as welcome to her as his wing was to the bird.

Rustic. It was rustic, yet strangely sophisticated. The pegasus’ home was nothing short of breathtaking. It had the appearance of a forest cabin, but none of the characteristic moss and tarnish to its fine wood that most aged cabins would have had. It looked as if had been built the day before.

The inside followed the same theme. The amenities were mostly polished wood – classy and sleek. A fireplace sat dormant at the far end of the room. The fabrics of the couches and chairs were checkered and color-coordinated. Everything was a green, or a dark red, or both, topped off with the polished wooden floorboards, picture frames, and a dainty little mahogany coffee table. More green and red on the floor carpet, and glass cabinets filled with collectibles and cutlery; fine china and the like.

Kindle's mouth fell open. It was interesting to say the very least.

Goodwill huffed as he shut the door and hung up his slightly damp scarf on the nearby hanger. The rain had begun to fall in force as they neared the house, and Kindle could feel the dampness in her coat and mane as a single drop of water rolled through her hair and tickled the side of her neck. Dispersing the droplet with her hoof, she watched as the pegasus moved over to the fireplace.

“Don’t worry, I’ll soon have this thing going and it’ll be nice and toasty in here. I always worry about this old beast. Feels like it’s going to burn the whole house down every time I light it up. Would you like some tea?”

Tea? He must have been older than he appeared.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Kindle replied meekly, still surprised at the generosity of the stranger.

“Oops, almost forgot this little fella,” Goodwill gently opened up the wing covering the Redbird, who didn't seem too happy to have his warm home disturbed. “Why don’t you put him on the couch just there and take a seat, I’ll get everything done shortly.”

Walking over to him, Kindle gently maneuvered her hooves around the pegasus’ wing to pick up the bird. The whole process was awkward to her as she was so used to using her magic, but she couldn’t degrade the bird by treating it as she would a pair of scissors or afternoon snack.

Clutching it to her chest with one foreleg and supporting herself with the other, she made the awkward few steps to the couch and placed the bird against one of the pillows leaning against it’s backing. Green and red again, she thought. This couch was a different color at least; a deep royal blue. The bird seemed more than content to rest with it’s back facing the pillow as it’s head and eyes darted around once again, taking in its new surroundings. Kindle hopped up onto the couch and sat there next to it, watching it intently as she heard a match strike and ignite, followed by a gentle crackle as the fireplace sparked to life.

Goodwill briskly marched off into another room; likely to make the promised tea. The fire caught on rather quickly; its soft embers warming the room and repelling the cold attempting to seep in from the outside. The rain could be heard now in the form of gentle patters of sizable drops impacting the windows. Yes, it was most definitely a good idea that she had found shelter.

The Redbird let out a peep as he sat down, as if not trusting the couch to not swallow him up when he did so. Kindle smiled at it as the warmth from the fireplace washed over her, easing it’s way through her fur and gently warming her skin. The bird seemed a little more at ease too, and was now slightly more active. He would still dart his head around, but would also take the time to shuffle about slightly and clean under his wings with his beak.

The door bumped open as Goodwill returned – minus the sweater. He had a tray balanced on his back that carried two steaming cups of tea. Without the sweater she could see his Cutie Mark clearly: a piece of parchment with what appeared to be a wreath horseshoeing around it. Gently easing the tray onto the coffee table, he lifted the tea off and slid one of the cups in her direction. “There you are. I hope you enjoy it.”

Kindle smiled and nodded gently, “Thank you.” Levitating the cup to her mouth and enjoying the tea’s rising heat playing across her face, she took a small sip and blinked in surprise. Minty, but not overpowering. An excellent taste. “This is actually great.”

“Really? That’s a relief then. I don’t make tea much, it’s just in the winter really, so I usually have brands and flavors that went out of style long ago.” He moved to sit down on the opposite couch, and took a sip of his own cup, smiling as he swallowed it down. “Nothing better to warm you up though, especially in this weather.”

“Couldn’t have said it better, it’s really warm in here,” Kindle said rather cheerfully, taking another sip and allowing herself to relax a little more. She eased herself down to lay on her stomach. If she was going to be there for a while, and her host didn’t mind, she might as well make herself comfortable.

“Nothing better than warmth on a cold day,” Goodwill said, looking up to stare at the wall behind her, as if talking to it instead of her. “I used to wonder why I liked the cold so much, most ponies preferred the sun. I finally figured it out one day though; they like the summer because it’s warm, but I don’t. It’s too oppressive, and you can never escape it, you take it for granted. Winter isn’t like that – warmth is precious, and you value it much more. I guess you could almost say I like the cold because I like feeling warm.” He chuckled boisterously and sniffled as he took another sip of his tea, “And there I go, rambling again. Like I said, I don’t normally have visitors, so I apologise if I’m a little jovial.”

Kindle laughed, a sincere and gentle giggle that only managed to warm the room more. “It’s fine, we’ve nothing else to really do except talk, and I’m more than happy to listen seeing as you’ve let a total stranger rest in your house. That is of course unless you have a bowling alley in another room that we can use.”

He laughed. “I can assure you that it’s no bother at all. Like I said, company is a rare sight out here. It’s always nice to have someone to talk to.” He fiddled with the tea between his hooves, “You build a place out here to get away from everything for a while, and it ends up becoming a little lonely.”

“So why did you move out here then? You said you moved?”

“Well, yes. I did. I moved out of Ponyville some years ago and managed to secure some land here. I just wanted to get away from it all, you know, have some time to myself. Demands were high on my life. You might not believe it, but I used to be a professor!”

“A professor?” Kindle didn’t find it completely unbelievable, he seemed well-spoken, but also rather eccentric, a people pleaser if with the right crowd and a strange aberration if with a foreign one.

Goodwill nodded, “Yep, I’ve still got the tweed if you’d like proof.”

“Well, what did you teach?” Kindle folded her forelegs across one another, ready to listen. Knowing his disposition to rambling, she prepared herself. He certainly had the voice of a lecturer, though his frequent deviation from topic would have undoubtedly made for humorous classes.

“The only thing that would end up giving me a job teaching and not an actual career: philosophy.” His chuckle returned, though it was devoid of it’s previous mirth. “The sad thing is, all those ponies I would lecture to and teach probably went on to face the same lack of opportunity that I did.”

That was far more laconic than she had expected – Goodwill seemed to have deflated at the mention of his profession. He still bore his smile, but it was waned and was directed at his hooves as opposed to her.

There was a silence between them, and Kindle realised that he was done talking and was waiting for her to respond. Intrigued, she simply said, “Go on.”

“Heh, it’s a long story.”

“We have plenty of time.” She indicated the window, which had been rendered nearly opaque by the pattering rain.

There was another short silence as he thought for a moment, wondering if he should continue. But with a sigh, Goodwill went on. “I probably should have taken my parent’s advice, they said that philosophy would do nothing for me, that no pony needed a philosopher anymore, that I should have become a doctor, or a writer, but I wouldn't have any of it. I went along with it anyway, and what do you know, it was mostly for nothing.”

He took another sip of his tea, and rubbed under his chin with a hoof before continuing.

“I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not like we require people asking tough questions and challenging our ideas in this day and age. This is not the time of Discord or before the founding of Equestria; there is no oppression here. Everything is too perfect. There were stories from the wars ponykind had with the Griffons in the past, how pony diplomats would travel into Gryphon cities and be met with a perfect and blissful town with a happy population, only to find out when they returned home that it was all a façade. The Griffons had deceived them by setting up all those niceties along their route so they would think them less barbaric than they actually were. That's how I feel walking into town and seeing such happiness and joy everywhere, it just doesn’t make any sense. I feel like a puppet being led downstage, oblivious to what is beyond the curtains. All I have is my audience and my backdrop, and both are disingenuous.”

Goodwill raised his head to look up at his guest, who was still lying there on the couch and watching him intently as steam from her cup of tea gently wafted upwards. She was clearly listening, and so he continued.

“I didn’t realize it at first, but teaching was a release from it all. In those lecture halls and classrooms, it was almost like a break from the outside world. I made my living attempting to abolish ignorance, teaching my students to ask questions and make arguments, and they listened. But it wouldn’t change anything. No one was interested in that sort of thinking anymore. Introspection was a thing of the past. Everyone was too happy to care; we truly are an idyllic society. Our problems are so superficial that the only intelligent response to them is derision. We’re stupid; we’ve let it all get to our heads and have forgotten that we need to always be on our guard against unfairness and stupidity. But we are ignorant of that, because it makes us happy!”

He had devolved into a rant at this point, and once he realised, backed up, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He opened them to look at his guest once again, who he had pictured having her mouth open in shock from his outburst.

She was still sitting there.

She had not moved. Her eyes still watched him. She lay there on the opposite couch, watching, waiting for him to continue. One leg crossed daintily over the other in front of her, a demure smile on her lips. The Redbird against the pillow beside her observed their exchange, oblivious and unsure as its head darted back and forth between them. He turned to her and sighed. “I'm sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Go on.”

“You really want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The Unicorn sat up, now eye level with Goodwill. “Because it’s far more interesting than any other conversation I’ve had recently, I really don’t mind.”

Goodwill raised an eyebrow this time, appraising her countenance for any sign of emotion contrary to the nature of her words, but found none. He smiled. She wanted to listen.

“...And then I decided to move out here, just to take a break from it all. It’s been working out great so far, but it’s difficult to find the will to put work into this place when no one ever visits.”

Kindle had sat and listened to him the entire time, and it was quite some time indeed. At least half an hour must have passed, as the professor had quite a story to tell. He spoke of his career, his students, his family, and his general ire at how lax the society around him had become. Had it been anyone else listening, he’d have been dismissed as an rambling old fool, but Kindle recognised the intellectual depth of his words.

“So you came out here to be away from other ponies for a while?” Kindle asked.

“Not for a while, for as long as I need. I still have friends and former colleagues in town, but I can visit them at my leisure. I get to have the time to myself that I desired for years, and yet still make conversation when I feel like doing so. Moving out here was one of the greatest choices that I could have made, I get time to be truly alone.”

They had both finished their tea, and Goodwill stood up and returned the cups to the tray. Balancing it on his back and moving towards the door, he turned his head to look back at her, “I presume that was why you came out here as well.”

Kindle blinked – surprised that she had been brought into the story. As he went through the door, she realised that it was indeed quite true, she had come out to the forest for some time alone, but her reasons for doing so were nothing like his.

Or were they? She’d have to think about that,

Goodwill returned, minus the tray, and moved to sit back on the opposite couch. He didn’t waste any time getting to what he wanted to say next: “So, why were you out in the forest today?”

Kindle had been expecting the question. She knew it would come, but she couldn’t have prepared for it and concentrated on Goodwill’s story at the same time. She performed another appraisal of the stallion – he seemed trustworthy enough. He had invited her into his home, kept her warm, and shared his life story. Asking for her story wasn't an unwarranted request. While she would have felt more comfortable keeping her reasons to herself, she didn't want to deny her host after his generosity and openness.

"Whatever you do, don't say it's a long story. I'm curious to hear it." He grinned, and she watched as he shifted into a new sitting position: an almost exact copy of her previous one. He sat there now with his forelegs folded as he lay on his stomach with a small smile on his lips. Kindle couldn't resist it, she burst out in laughter seeing him in such an unfitting sitting position.

"What's so funny?" Goodwill asked, trying his best to sound seriously offended but failing miserably as his lips curved into a wild smirk and he joined in with his own accented laughter.

The brief exchange of mirth put Kindle’s mind at ease. The pegasus across from her wiped a tear from his eye and their laughter subsided. He returned to a less humorous position, and waited for her to begin.

“Well,” she began. It’s a long story. “Today was particularly rough. You see, I met this colt...”

The elegant nature of a Ponyvillian vista was unmatched; nothing could beat its wonderful display of the civilization of Ponykind in action. Families mingled about, merchants flaunted their wares with the proper inflection to ignite the caprice of any passing pony, and the pegasi’s aptitude for maintaining the sky was performed with the utmost of diligence. While other cities like Canterlot and Manehattan denied their inner selves and chiseled chasm after chasm between each other in their hubristic game of perfection and poise, Ponyville was more than content with simply keeping it’s residents happy. It had it’s pride and it’s dignity; it didn’t need to dress itself up in royal garb and thrust itself skywards like Canterlot did, nor did it need to display it’s technical and innovative prowess by erecting towering monuments to a tumultuous and dangerous market of despair and uncertainty as did Manehattan.

It just wanted to be happy.

But wasn’t it possible that happiness could be a divide as well? Was it not true that when the snotty nobles and ambitious entrepreneurs of the other cities visited the small town they were followed closely by a cloud of derision and discontent? Was Ponyville a victim of the very thing that it was attempting to destroy: the quest of ambition over the quest for happiness? Was happiness its ambition?

Kindle took a deep breath and calmed herself, her brain overheating from too much thinking as she began her trot down the path away from Whitetail Woods following her morning walk.

As she neared the town, she would find that her musings about it would fade away. It almost seemed disrespectful to judge it while she nestled safely in the warmth of its tender embrace. She reminded herself that if it did not exist, many ponies would have no place to live. The town was down-to-earth – literally and metaphorically – and it watched with a gentle smile as business went on as usual.

She shook her head as she approached the town square, wondering how she had managed to get there whilst being lost in thought and not paying any attention to where she was going without causing some sort of accident. It looked a treat; the refulgent sun shining off the manes and coats of the townsponies as the merchants hollered and shouted. A pleasant scene, though she knew better than to trust the town’s pleasantries.

The Java was a unique café; a sprinkle of Manehattan dumped into the center of Ponyville. It had a distinctly more modern feel, possessing a heated flair accentuated by patterns of orange and ash grey. It was relatively popular, surprising considering the preference for Ponyvillians to favor restaurants of a more friendly nature. The Java had its fair share of kind waiters, but it was far more focused on letting it’s food speak for itself, rather than the attitudes of it’s patrons being adjusted by overly friendly staff.

She proceeded to the nearest empty booth, which happened to be nestled in a far corner of the café, right next to the front window. Sitting on the left side to allow her front to face the scenery outside, she fiddled idly with the salt and pepper shakers, passing them between her hooves as she waited for an order-taker to appear. It late morning, and so the restaurant was in the midst of a fairly busy rush, for its size and location anyways.

Kindle had thought herself unnoticed as she sat and waited, her golden mane neatly done up as to keep it out of her face. Though her position facing the window to the busy street made privacy a foolish expectation, she had certainly not expected what happened next.

Hearing the clopping of hooves approach her table, she readied herself to state what she wanted: Cappuccino, plenty of sugar. As she turned to face the approaching pony however, it was clear that he was not there to take her order.

The pegasus stallion, with a gentle cobalt coat and casual jet-black mane, stood before her with a hoof raised in apprehension. His Cutie Mark was that of an ornate green hat. The look on his face was dignified, but couldn't disguise the sheepishness that lay beneath. It had quickly occurred to her that turning her head to face him must have stopped him in his tracks, and his mouth was held slightly open as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

"Uh... hello."

Kindle raised an eyebrow, "Hello?"

The sound of her voice appeared to have waned his reserved state ever so slightly. Standing up a little straighter as if trying to instill some courage into himself, he spoke with a little more confidence: "I was just wondering if I could buy you a coffee, if it's okay with you of course."

Taken aback by the request, Kindle's mouth briefly fell open, but quickly shut once she saw the effect that it had on him as embarrassment played across his face. She hadn't received such a request before; she knew what he was asking. She quickly took stock of him; short, polite, and she'd be lying if she didn't say a little handsome. His shy demeanor almost elicited a giggle from her, and served as an attractive quality. Realising that the air was tense as he awaited his answer, she smiled and replied warmly, "Oh, of course you may."

The change in his face was near instantaneous, his ears perked up and an enthusiastic smile flashed across his lips for only the briefest second, but she picked it up. He strode over to the opposite facing booth chair and eased himself into it. Kindle kept her warm smile; he seemed nice enough, and despite the fact that he sat framed with the hullabaloo of the outside through the window behind him, she found herself more focused on his sky-blue eyes than anything else. She didn’t know what was going to come from this encounter, but saw no downside to sharing a table.

“Thank you. Sorry if I am a bother, I’ve just noticed you sitting alone here most days and well... I thought you might like some company.” His voice had reverted to what she guessed was its casual state. He extended a hoof to her, “Cobalt Wings, a pleasure to meet you.”

She extended hers and shook, “Kindle, and you have a very nice name.”

Cobalt chuckled, “You really think so? My parents were never known for their creativity, they were more of the land than the crafts. A very nice name you have also, it matches your mane quite well.”

“Really?” Kindle asked, feeling slightly embarrassed by the kind words as she ran a hoof through her golden locks.

“Yes. Haven’t you ever been complimented on your mane before? It really is a wonderful sight." He signaled an idle waiter who hadn’t seemed to have noticed them. “And it goes well with your coat, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Kindle felt her cheeks heat up, and hoped that the fur covering them would be enough to hide her countenance from the colt’s kind words, “No actually, this doesn’t exactly happen to me often.”

“I am honestly surprised, you really are quite a pretty pony.” Cobalt spoke the sentence with an air of confidence, but when he realised the corniness of his line, the infamous read hue tinged his cheeks. Kindle couldn’t help herself, the coy display made her giggle audibly.

A waiter jostled over, his face a completely deadpan that bluntly murdered the atmosphere for a moment. “May I take your orders please?” he asked, almost sounding bored despite how busy the café was.

She placed her order, and made sure to pay careful attention to what he decided to drink. He ordered the same as her, though with significantly less sugar. A trivial detail, but she took note of it.

As the waiter sped off to put their order down, seemingly annoyed by how small it was, they were left alone once again. Cobalt exchanged an awkward glance with her as the silence once again descended upon their table.

He seemed willing to speak first, and rose to meet her gaze, but Kindle was hardly going to be considered more shy than she actually was. Meeting his eyes and smiling gently, she asked the first question: “So, what do you do?”

Cobalt perked up again, hearing the exact question he had wanted to be asked. “I am a milliner, a creator and designer of the finest hats this side of Ponyville.”

“Hats?” Kindle asked, tilting her head.

“Yes. Not the most common occupation for a pegasus, I know, but my parents were both Earth ponies, I’ve always been closer to the Earth than the sky really.” He held the coffee cup between his hooves, and leaned back gently to take a long sip. Licking a bit of the froth off of his lips, he went on, “My parents were, well, still are, farmers. I think they’d have loved the idea of having some wings to help them out, but that just wasn’t me. I loved creating things; even when I was young I’d fill up the walls with cut outs of my doodles and drawings, my parents loved them. For the longest time I wanted to be an artist, but then one day my mother was invited to a rather important party here in Ponyville, and hadn’t the slightest clue what hat to wear.”

He chuckled, smiling and staring at his coffee cup while he continued, “We went through every hat she had, but none of them seemed nice enough for the occasion. We still had a few days left until it started, so I suggested to her that she go get one made just for it. She didn’t think it was a good idea, but I did. She probably would have settled for the plain white one she had, and that thing was atrocious. So I decided to design her a hat.

“I worked on it for two days; using that ugly white one as a template and sketching an elaborate design. Since mom probably would have thought it cute, but not worth following up on, I took it to dad and planned to have it made and surprise her on the night she had to leave. He liked the idea, so we went to the hat shop, and... I don’t know, I just loved it. There were so many wonderful designs in there! It was all I ever dreamed of laying my eyes upon.

“We had the hat made, and on the night she was due to head off we presented it to her. She absolutely adored it, and then suggested, sarcastically, that I should be a hat designer. I guess she was a little surprised later when I told her that was exactly what I wanted to be.”

“That was a very kind thing to do for your mother,” Kindle said warmly, taking a sip of her own coffee. “How did the party go for her?”

“She said it went well, but I think after we surprised her with that hat it was all she could think of the entire night. She still has it.”

Deciding that his Coffee wasn’t sweetened to his tastes, Cobalt picked up a sugar packet from the stack on the table and tore it open with his teeth. Removing the lid from his cup and adding the extra sugar, he smiled at her, “So, what is it that you do?”

“Oh,” Kindle exclaimed, realising that it was her turn to share, “I’m not that spectacular really, I work as a secretary.”

“Oh, really?” Cobalt asked, “Well, I can see why somepony would want to have you around all the time.”

She felt embarrassed by the remark, and knew the redness on her cheeks was visible this time. “It gives me a lot of free time to think, so it really suits me.”

“I guess that’s the sort of job we all want, one that gives us time to ourselves while we perform our tasks. What was it they say? He twirled a hoof around his head as he searched for his quotation. “‘A task that keeps the body busy and the mind free is always a worth the time to do’, I don’t know. I’m sure I just butchered the words of some famous author right there. And I am rambling, forgive me.”

Kindle laughed and waved a dismissive hoof. “Don’t worry, I do it all the time. I think it’s one of the reasons my boss keeps me around. Once we strike up a conversation, it just won’t die.”

“What sort of things do you usually talk about then? We could use a different topic other than ourselves here,” Cobalt laughed.

“Oh, you have no idea...”

Their conversation had lasted for a good half hour. The emptied coffee cups sat back and listened to the banter of the two ponies they had served – their laughter and jokes a happy and joyous picture in the serene corner booth of The Java café. Their topics of discussion went from personal stories to personal annoyances to Equestria itself. Cobalt had particularly enjoyed listening to Kindle’s musings on the relationships between the major towns, something that had surprised her, as most ponies saw it as pointless nonsense to see each city as an individual with it’s own set of defining traits. That had always been Kindle’s preferred method however: build a profile of the city as if it was a character, a pony, and see what type of pony you get.

“So, Manehattan is a snappy, witty pegasus with a penchant for gloating, and Canterlot is an absurd but very beautiful unicorn mare who leads in all the stallions with her flashy looks and wit, but I have to ask, what is Ponyville then? You compared all three of them several times, but what sort of Pony would our fine town be?”

Cobalt’s question had Kindle rubbing her chin. She had tried in the past to think of a way to characterize the small inland town, but could never settle on something that she liked. Put on the spot however, she had to come up with something.

“Well, it would be an Earth Pony of course, because it’s such a down-to-earth town. A female too, because it’s a very gentle place.” She paused for a moment to think on her final creation. “She would be gentle, kind, and unassuming. She wouldn’t be like this restaurant for example; she’d rely on her kindness and generosity to lure people to her as opposed to any sort of skill or distinct talent she has. I guess you could almost say that she would lack any real ability or ambition, but would be loved anyway because of her kind nature.”

Kindle nodded, satisfied with her new characterisation, then added, “I don’t think I’d really like her.”

That simple, unassuming assertion caused the Pegasus across from her to shift awkwardly. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, staring at the unicorn as she stared into space; continuing to muse.

“Well, she disregards those from the cities who are successful and who have excellent careers and jobs as being snobby and selfish. She is so obsessed with being kind and nice that she excludes any conflict from her life and fails to recognise that those she considers selfish and uppity are the ones who have ensured she has all the luxuries that she does. They invented the heaters and designed the houses. They may not be kind, but their actions are their own merits. I just don’t like ponies like that. They can’t recognise that kindness is not the ultimate avenue to happiness and progress.”

And just like that, the attitude in that small booth changed.

Kindle hadn’t thought anything of her statement at first, expecting the colt across from her to respond with some sort of witticism, or a joke, or even just to nod and accept her explanation. Instead of this however, when she turned her head back to face him, he looked positively furious.

“What kind of cynical, twisted nonsense is that?” He snarled, his brows furrowed at her as his stance became rigid, almost as if he was preparing himself for an oncoming attack.

Kindle had been taken aback by Cobalt’s initial introduction, but his sudden change in attitude caused her to actually straighten up in surprise, “What?”

“You heard me. That’s just nonsense. We’re not like those other cities! Ponyville is not a useless town! We don’t prop ourselves up on our kindness and provide nothing else. We are a town of potential, and we do contribute. How dare you say that we’re useless!”

Kindle was visibly shocked now, but composed herself quickly. She was no stranger to such situations. “I never said that, and if you disagreed, we could have simply discussed it. There’s no need to get angry.”

“No need? You just insulted this town and all the people in it, that is simply offensive!”

Kindle could feel the eyes of several nearby tables on them, and although Cobalt’s words had caused her to feel an all too familiar anger starting to creep up, she did her best to keep her voice even, “I do apologise for that, it wasn’t my intention. I don’t believe that there’s anything wrong with this town, I just believe that it’s not as wonderful as it thinks it is.”

The pegasus scoffed at her. “Yeah, sorry we’re not all as amazing as you, sorry that we’re too ‘down-to-earth’ for your tastes.”

“Now hold on just a moment,” Kindle leaned forward, her forehooves placed firmly on the table as she supported herself on her front legs. “I never said anything of the sort, and you have no reason to be angry, so stop making a scene!” She realised as she uttered the final word that some of her anger had managed to slip out.

“What are you, my mother?” Cobalt sat up and hopped off of his chair. Scoffing again he took one quick glance back, his face that of derision and contempt, before turning tail in the direction of the café’s exit, but not before adding, “And pay for your own coffee!”

Strong, hearty laughter filled Kindle’s ears as she concluded her recount. Shocked out of the near-reverie state she had been in whilst telling the story, she looked up to see Goodwill with his back on the couch and legs flailing in the air above him, genuinely cracking up.

“What an idiot!” he managed to get out between his guffawing, “You seriously ran off into the woods because of that?”

Kindle recoiled at Goodwill’s unexpected reaction, and couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

“I... I don’t see what’s so funny,” she stammered, as Goodwill’s laughing fit finally began to tie up.

The pegasus composed himself, sat up, and attempted to return to his previous, thoughtful demeanor, but couldn’t keep that incredulous smirk off his lips. “I do, that was a completely unfounded overreaction, and you let it get to you.”

“Well, if you were in that situation, how would you have felt?” Kindle felt the anger flare again, but kicked it down. The pegasus wouldn’t agitate her, she knew this. He had been kind to her thus far, he would not.

“I would have laughed in his face. He wouldn’t have walked out, I would have.”

“We’re not all that crass,” she retorted.

“Oh, but you should be, considering that I’m certain what happened today wasn’t the first time you’ve had a troublesome conversation.” Goodwill sat back and smiled smugly, as if he had just figured her out.

“What?” She stammered, unable to comprehend why he was trying to pressure her, “Why are you... Well, yes, this has happened before. But—”

“So why did you run into the forest then?” He interrupted, determined to milk as much information from her as possible. Kindle knew he was trying to build up ammunition to make a point, but wasn’t sure she wanted him to do that.

“I was angry, I needed to let off some steam and clear my mind,” she admitted, hanging her head as she remembered the Redbird; still sitting there and leaning against the pillow of the couch. She picked it up gently and held it with both hooves against her chest, as she had done before.

“Why were you angry? You did nothing wrong.” Goodwill sounded gentler this time, some sympathy returning to his voice.

“I know! But I don’t know what went wrong. We were just talking normally and he... I mean... He...” Kindle couldn’t find the words, and when she finally did, she wasn’t sure if had wanted to say them.

“He was an idiot?”

Kindle gasped as he completed her sentence.

“Yes.”

Goodwill nodded. “A pony that takes offense to things without even permitting an explanation can hardly be considered intelligent.”

He waited for her to acknowledge his words, but she simply returned a nod of her own as she stroked the bird held against her chest. Goodwill shook his head. “It’s a shame that those types of ponies are often the nicest you’ll ever meet.”

“Maybe he was right, perhaps I did assume too much,” she stroked the bird’s head gently with one of her hooves. It didn’t seem to enjoy it all that much, but permitted it, “perhaps I shouldn’t have made such a brash judgment.”

“No!” Goodwill leapt up from where he was sitting and bore his gaze into her from across the coffee table. “Don’t even think that, what did you do wrong? You gave your opinion on the town, an opinion that if I had heard myself, would deem eloquent and uncannily accurate. Instead of countering your observation, he gets mad and declares that you shouldn’t say it at all? To Tartarus with him!” Goodwill threw a hoof into the air to emphasize his statement, “Not everyone is worth the time to talk to.”

Kindle found herself feeling genuinely appalled, “What are you even saying? What sort of viewpoint is that?”

“What?” Goodwill asked incredulously, “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s... just wrong! What sort of outlook is that to have!” She was shouting now, and wrapped both legs around the bird, as if to protect it from some threat. “You act as if most ponies aren’t even worth the time acknowledging! What sort of pony are you?”

Goodwill stood still for a moment, and then she saw the smile. It started small, but soon grew into a huge, mischievous grin. Kindle was momentarily afraid, until Goodwill simply sat back down on the couch and chuckled the same jolly chuckle from before. “Well, this is familiar isn’t it?”

Kindle didn’t know what he meant at first, but then it hit her. Goodwill leaned forward again, speaking slowly and deliberately, accentuating each word with a tap of his hoof on the coffee table. “Prove. Me. Wrong.”

She didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t know what to do. Her run through the forest had replayed the scene from earlier in the day over and over in her mind. She thought about what she would have said to Cobalt, what she should have said, and how it would have went if it had never turned sour at all. But she had assured herself of one thing, that it had been a learning experience. She would never act like that colt had. Not ever.

And yet she just had.

Principle denied her the ability to get mad, she knew that wouldn’t prove anything. She couldn’t just walk away, unless she wanted to brave the storm and be seen as a coward. And she couldn’t fight back, because she knew she wouldn’t win. As much as she wanted to retort, to tell the stallion across from her that he was wrong and a fool, she couldn’t do it, because she knew. She had known for the longest time but had never realised it.

As Kindle felt the tears in her eyes, she shook her head and closed them. She would not cry. She would not cry. She, like everyone else, had cried before. She had cried after a sad performance, after the death of a loved one – but every bout of tears was different. Those tears were drawn from a pool of sadness and despair; emotions that could be justified and understood in the situation. But if she cried now, she would have no excuse, like a young child crying after some insignificant punishment from their parents.

Seeing that she was on the verge of tears, Goodwill was immediately apprehensive. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He moved around the Coffee table and sat onto the couch next to her. Kindle hardly noticed him, she was too busy fighting back the tears. Experience had taught her that they would probably come, but she had to fight them. She had to. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her hooves and hide her eyes from sight, but with her hooves clutching the Redbird to her chest, it was not something she could do. She didn’t want to let go of the bird, she just wanted to hold it, to keep those soft feathers brushing up against her chest...

She felt a hoof on her shoulder, but didn’t look over.

“It’s fine,” came Goodwill’s voice, devoid of it’s previous corrosiveness. “And I’m sorry.”

Kindle just kept breathing, it seemed the best thing to focus on. Breath in through the nose, out through the mouth; working to keep the tears at bay.

“To answer your question, It’s a bleak outlook to have, but there is a silver lining,” Goodwill squeezed her shoulder gently as he smiled. “When you find someone who is actually worth the time to talk to, it’s one of the greatest experiences of your life.”

Kindle stared intently at the bird resting in her hooves. She could feel it’s warmth and the bones in its wings as it shifted around uncomfortably. Where was its mother? Its family? What had become of them? It had been left alone and in the cold, that was its problem. She didn’t have the same problems as it; the Redbird had it far worse, and it was alive. Her problems were trivial compared to what it had went through, and she was sure that if it could, it would be laughing at her and uttering that all so common phrase.

“You think you got problems? Ha! Let me tell ya...”

Kindle looked up to see Goodwill sitting there next to her. He removed his hoof from her shoulder and still displayed that weak and sympathetic smile. Looking past her, he indicated the window with a nod. “Looks like the rain has stopped.”

Kindle’s ears perked back up. Sure enough, the patter of raindrops on the windows could no longer be heard, and the sun was just beginning to seep through.

“I suppose you would want to be going now, wouldn’t you?” Goodwill asked, a hint of disappointment apparent in his voice. She nodded, and he got up off the sofa and went back through the door to the kitchen, returning with his sweater on. “I suppose I should lead you back to the path then, and maybe we can find somewhere to put our little friend.” He indicated the Redbird. “How is he doing?”

“He’s... I don’t know,” despite herself, she laughed weakly. “It’s a bird. If I had to guess though, I’d say he’s fine.”

“Well, I guess he’s going for another ride.” Goodwill walked up to her and held open his wing once again. Kindle gently lifted the bird away from her chest and placed him in the crook of Goodwill's wing. If the bird was any happier in its new position, it didn’t show it, but at least it’d be warm.

“Alright then,” Goodwill said, dousing the fireplace and moving to open the front door. “Let’s get moving, it’s a little warm in here.”

Kindle just nodded, and followed him as he exited his abode and stepped once again into the Whitetail woods.

Through the skeletal trees, Celestia’s sun was finally freed from its blanket of cloud. There was still a chill in the air, but the breeze was far gentler. Kindle felt her locks lift gently from the chilling gusts, but they didn’t encroach upon her face this time.

Goodwill had been silent in the few minutes since they had left, a silence that Kindle found welcoming, yet a little uneasy at the same time. There was much that had been left for her to consider, and she was sure that the pegasus understood this and was more than willing to leave her to her thoughts.

“There was something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Goodwill stated, and then was silent for a few moments as their hooves crunched the wet dirt beneath them. “Your Cutie Mark, what does it mean?”

“Oh,” she replied, looking back at her flanks. “I’m not certain, I don’t think anypony who knows me really is, but I have a rather good idea.”

“Do tell, It seems rather unique to me,” Goodwill said, his interest stirred.

“Well, I got it during one of our family gatherings; we have them every few years. The two sides of the family never really saw eye to eye on anything, so there would always just be little pockets of ponies talking within their little family groups and never venturing further than that.”

She groaned and came to a stop as one of her hooves landed in a mud puddle. Wiping the dirt off on some of the damp grass along the path, she continued, “I was quite young back then, and was off playing with the other foals. We didn’t care who was who; we just wanted to have fun.” She chuckled at the memory. “It’s strange, the adults were always so childish in avoiding each other; it was the children who actually went out and met others. Anyways, they were mostly colts, so they were playing their usual boyish games and I wasn’t interested, so I went to talk with the adults, more specifically the adults from the other side of the family.

“They were a bit apprehensive about a child coming up to talk to them. I guess they saw me as some little cretin coming to beg for some candy or food, but I had a much better sense of humor back then. I told them jokes.”

“Good ones?” Goodwill asked. Kindle laughed.

“No! Of course not. But they were so goofy coming from a child that apparently the whole group of ponies I had been with at that time had laughed so much that the rest of that side of the family had come to see what the fuss was about. Then the other side must have saw what fun the others were having, and so came over to join them. Next thing I knew, everyone was shaking hooves and introducing themselves. I went inside to get something to eat, and my mother gasped and pointed at my flanks before tackling me into the tightest hug I’ve ever received. I had no idea what was going on, until she finally managed to tell me that I had gotten my Mark.”

Goodwill nodded, “That’s the story then, but what do you think it means?”

Kindle looked over her shoulder at the Cutie Mark on her flank; the smooth glass ball smouldering a gentle, swirling heat. “I honestly didn’t know for the longest time. My parents both offered theories, but none of them made sense. One day though, in my teenage years, I was reading through a school history textbook and saw one of them.” Kindle indicated her Mark with her nose. “A heat core: A minor heating spell encased in glass. It was used many years ago, when heating spells weren't as easy to cast for the general unicorn population. A group of traveling ponies would often ensure that at least one of the unicorns among them would be capable of casting these spells, and they fashioned heat cores to keep the arcane energy contained while still allowing the heat to radiate out. The spell could be fed more mana to make the core anything from mildly warm so that you could keep it under a coat for warmth, to blazing hot, so it could literally produce as much heat as a small campfire. After I read that, it all clicked. What do ponies do around campfires?”

“Toast marshmallows?” Goodwill joked, as Kindle put on her most convincing ‘not amused’ face.

“No, they talk. The heat brings them together, allowing them to form new bonds. I guess that was what I managed to do that night; bring the whole family together, at least for one night. I hardly see how it's my destiny though.”

“Live as if destiny does not exist. After all, you have no other options.” Goodwill smirked, and Kindle shook her head with a smile.

“So, what about yours? Tell me about your Cutie Mark”

“Well, I would, but we’re here.”

Kindle stopped. “Where?”

“Back where I found you,” Goodwill replied. Sure enough, Kindle recognised the clearing that she had rested in earlier that day. “The path back should be just over there.”

“Thank you for leading me back here,” Kindle said, forcing a weak smile. “And thank you for giving me some shelter during the storm.”

Goodwill chuckled easily; a welcome sound to Kindle’s ears. “It’s not a problem, if you ever get lost out here again, just scream.” He chuckled again, and she couldn’t help but return one.

“Well, I guess that—”

The sound of shrill chirping cut Kindle off and completely startled Goodwill, who jumped at the noise before opening up his wing to reveal the squawking Redbird. Its head was pointed skywards, the sunlight bathing it’s gentle red form as another squawk could be heard further off in the distance.

Kindle stared at Goodwill, puzzled, but he seemed to know what was going on. He motioned for her to come over. “Take him out and put him down. Gently.”

Kindle nodded and carefully pried the now very active bird from Goodwill’s wing. It struggled and squirmed in her hooves, trying to open it’s wings and fly out of her grasp. Once she put it on the ground however, it hobbled off on its short black legs through the wet dirt before coming to a stop in the middle of the clearing and continuing its skywards squawking.

She was about to ask Goodwill what was happening, but before she could, another, somewhat larger bird flapped to the ground beside the Redbird. It was light brown, small, but Kindle immediately spotted the crest on its head and remembered what Goodwill had told her about the Redbird. Female Redbirds are not red.

“Is that...?”

“Its mother? I think so.” Goodwill sounded pleased, and he breathed a contented sigh as the mother poked her shiny black beak around the Redbird’s body, almost as if she were inspecting the condition of his wings and feathers. When the mother finished, she spread her wings, an action mimicked by the Redbird, before she took wing, the fledgling following her as they disappeared through the leafless branches of a nearby tree.

Kindle and Goodwill both watched their departure with gentle smiles on their faces, the chilling breeze forgotten for that short time as the birds disappeared behind the trees.

“They’ll be back soon, spring is just around the corner,” Goodwill said, turning to her. “I guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Yes,” Kindle replied; he had sounded disappointed. “I wanted to tell you something. I was thinking, and I—”

Goodwill raised a hoof to silence her. “Kindle, what you want to do with your life is your choice and yours alone. Don’t let me tell you how you should live, just... think about what I said. And...” He thought for a moment, trying to find the right words to use. “Always give them the benefit of the doubt, give ponies a chance, they may be more than they seem.”

Kindle nodded, then realised it was the first time he had actually used her name to address her. She smiled, “I will, and thank you Goodwill.”

“Will you be coming back here during the spring?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Come visit me sometime, I could always use the company.”

Kindle nodded, smiling. “I’ll do that.”

With their goodbyes said, and a final smile exchanged, Kindle turned towards the path and began her walk back down the blooming forest path through the breeze of the dying winter.