Promise of a Better Tomorrow

“Limestone! Over here!” cried a tiny gray filly, her dark, flat mane bouncing loosely as she jumped on the spot.

A second filly—bluish with a gray-white mane—had her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she eyed the sky. Not a second later, a little striped ball fell upon her, and she headbutted it towards her anxious playmate.

“Oh! Oh! This way, Marble!” called a bright pink filly. Her poof of a mane bounced gleefully as she waved her hooves high. The dead brown grass of the field seemed to brighten around her.

Rearing up, the gray filly rushed forward and slammed the ball in her sister’s direction, giggling as she tumbled to the ground.

“Limey, go long!” The pink filly ducked her head down until her muzzle touched the dirt. As the ball arched over to her, she sprung back up with lightning speed and immediately careened into a double-backflip.

The ball rocketed away from the pink blur in a massive arc, missing the bluish filly by a literal half-mile. It soared over a distant gray-green hilltop and out of sight, its blue and yellow contrail being the only evidence it had ever existed at all. In moments, that too faded.

“Whoa,” Limestone said breathlessly, gawking at where the ball had vanished. Marble was at her side moments later, staring slack-jawed at the same point in the sky.

“Girls! Girls!” the pink filly called as she rushed to join her two sisters, spitting out a clod of dirt along the way. “What happened?! Did I win?! Where’s the ball?! What are we looking at?! Why are you—”

“Pinkie… how did you…?” Marble said, the question falling limply back into her throat.

“The ball…” Limestone said. “The ball went over that hill.” She lifted an uncertain hoof towards the far-off mound. She hadn’t blinked once since the ball had sailed over her head.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go get it!” Pinkie hopped gleefully past her two sisters and towards the hill, but screeched to a stop a second later.

“Oh, and before I forget!” She turned and beamed at her sisters. “Could you two ask Mommy to make her superriffic peas and carrots for dinner tonight? I’m starving! Thanks!” Without missing a beat, she turned tail and continued on her way as she hummed a song only she could hear.

The two remaining sisters remained rooted in silence for a minute longer. Limestone blinked once at the sky and said, “Think we should tell Mom about...?”

“No,” Marble replied, “but I do kinda want to ask Dad if he has a physics book we can read.”

***

It was a matter of minutes before Pinkie reached the hilltop, and her bouncy stride never slowed the whole way. She stopped upon the crest of the hill and squinted down at the other side.

“Now where could that ball—” she froze on the spot and her eyes widened “—huh, would you look at that?”

Sitting just a stone’s throw away from the bottom of the hill was a small, rural cabin. It groaned loud and long with the sounds of achy wood, audible even from the hilltop. Its splintered exterior reeked of age, and its colours matched the dark, dull browns of the dead trees scattered about the field beyond. Not a single light shone from the windows, and not a pony was in sight. In fact, no other houses could be seen for miles. The large hill blocked the nearest settlement—Pinkie’s home—entirely from view.

As Pinkie looked upon the dreary house, her eyes landed on a single blue and yellow dot sitting just by its porch. Her bright grin returned and she galloped down the hill.

“Found you!” Pinkie exclaimed as she leapt for the ball, giggling when she bounced off of it and landed on the porch with a thud. Just as she turned around to pick up the ball, a harsh creak sounded out behind her.

“What?” said a low, resolute voice. Pinkie turned around to see a gray stallion with a rugged brown mane standing in the doorway. He glared at her with stone eyes from beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat.

“Hiya, Mister!” Pinkie said, beaming. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bug you. It’s just that me and my sisters were playing with our ball and it went like whoosh”—she threw her hoof in a quick arching motion—“over the hill. I just came over to get it.”

The stallion’s eyes flicked to the ball just off the porch. “There. Now leave.” He turned back towards the inside of the building without casting a second glance in Pinkie’s direction.

Pinkie’s smile dropped into a tiny frown. “Mister, wait!” she called. The stallion stopped but didn’t turn around. A sweet grin grew across Pinkie's face. “My name’s Pinkie Pie! I live with my mommy, daddy, and sisters—their names are Marble and Limestone—just on the other side of that hill! That makes us neighbors! So, what’s your name, neighbor?”

“Get off my porch.” His tone betrayed nothing. He walked back inside and kicked the door shut, its slam echoing across the landscape.

Pinkie stared at the door in silence, blinked once, and broke back into a frown. She slowly turned around, nestled the ball in the crook of her back, and trotted up the hill. One of her eyes remained fixed on the house until it fell out of sight.

***

A pale gray mare made her way around the dining table doling out small portions of peas and carrots across five plates. Three of the chairs were already occupied by the sisters Pie.

“Go ahead and start eating, girls,” the mare said, taking her own seat. “Your father’s just finishing up the afternoon rotation. He’ll be in soon.”

Marble and Limestone began nibbling away neatly at their meals, but Pinkie just frowned at her plate. She used her fork to push the peas idly back and forth.

The mare paused just as she took her first bite, looking over her glasses and across the table. “Is something the matter, Pinkamena?”

“Mom, who’s the pony that lives in the house over the hill?” Pinkie asked, not so much as looking up.

Her mother frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“I met him today when I went to get our ball from the other side of the hill. He didn’t seem like a very happy pony.” Pinkie looked up at her mother. “I didn’t do something to make him upset, did I?”

“Nonsense, Pinkamena,” the mare said, smiling a little. “You couldn’t upset a pony if you tried.” A tiny grin crossed Pinkie’s face too, but it faded just as quickly.

“Then, why was he so grouchy?”

“That’s just the way he is, I’m afraid. Your father and I couldn’t even get his name when we went to make his acquaintance a few years ago.” The mare picked her fork back up. “Best not to worry about it, Pinkamena. Some ponies are just born that way, and there’s not much we can do to change that.”

Pinkie sighed. “I guess.” She lifted a remarkably small portion of food to her mouth and proceeded to chew it for the next five minutes.

Not another word come from Pinkie for the remainder of the meal. Even when her father came in and bid her hello, all she could manage was a ghost of a smile. She left the table sooner than anyone else, more than half of her dinner still sitting on her plate.

***

The early night moonlight silhouetted a distant hill outside of the Pie sisters’ bedroom window. Pinkie had been staring at the hill for the better part of an hour. She sighed, breaking the rhythmic snores which filled the room.

“I don’t care what Mommy says,” Pinkie whispered. “Nana Pinkie told me there’s always a way to make anypony smile, no matter what.”

She flipped on her back to face the dark ceiling. “Someday, I’ll make the pony in that house smile too. I promise on my Nana Pinkie.”

A moment passed in relative silence, then Pinkie smiled and giggled softly. “A Pinkie Promise! Heh, that could catch on.” With that thought, her eyelids fell shut and the choir of tiny snores welcomed its newest member.