A Heart's Warming Carol

Epilogue

Winter mornings were beautiful for some ponies. The clean white glow of the sun on a fresh crust of snow, glistening icicles, the smell of cinnamon toast and hot chocolate warmed over a fire and the crisp sound and feel of the breeze tugging at a warm coat. That's the way it was for most ponies anyway, but not for all of them. It wasn't that way for Rose or her foals. Winter mornings were a matter of struggling to get a fire started despite the wind, aching joints and beds of frozen ground, or pavement if they were fortunate.

Thankfully, the blizzard had ended a few hours before dawn, but most of the night had been wicked. Their "home" would have been piled with snow if not protected by the buildings it was sandwiched between. Her two colts were tucked to one side, and her filly to the other, having moved inside the crate's shelter at some point after the fire had gone out. At least with the wind settled, it wouldn't be as hard to get the fire going again to heat the porridge left from last night. Out in the street, she could hear the laughter, play and chatter of all the other ponies and foals with far fewer cares in the world.

The sound of hoofsteps crunching through the snow in the morning was nothing new to her, so when she heard a new set approaching, she paid it no mind to begin with. It was only when they came close and stopped by the alley that she looked up. Standing there, dressed in a neatly-tended business coat with a stern, appraising set of eyes, was a champagne unicorn stallion. He said nothing as he looked at them, seeming particularly focused on her oldest colt, with a brief glance at their collection tin which was more full with snow than it had ever been with bits.

"Can I... help you, sir?" she asked, a little cautious of this stranger at first. She wasn't new to the world, and unknown ponies stopping by was not always a good thing. To his credit, though, this stallion seemed far too serious to attempt something bad. He seemed thoughtful, even oddly reflective.

Finally, he bobbed his head in greeting. "Good morning, Ms.—" He paused and pulled a small note from his coat in a sheath of gold magic, checking himself, "Rose Horizon. My name is Perignon, from the wine shop on the east edge of town." He tucked the note away again and leveled his gaze with hers, giving her a very serious, but very sincere look.

"I'd like to offer you a job. It includes a house."

Author's Note

While it might look like I was jumping on a common Christmas bandwagon by writing a story based on the famous novel "A Christmas Carol," I promise that I wasn't. This is just where my inspiration took me. I don't claim to have written anything earth-shattering, but here's hoping it's still a good read for you.

From talking to people, I seem to have gained something of a reputation for writing "gut-wrenching" or "heavy-handed" stories. That wasn't the goal here, so it should be lighter than my usual fair, even if it comes with its dose of emotions. Here's hoping that it's still a good story regardless. In any case, I hope you enjoy, and that it's meaningful in whatever way that it can be for you. The title is a play on words, not a typo, and my little stab at the holiday name (which I suspect might be!) - but don't tell anyone I said that ;)

Oh, and Fangwarden, I didn't forget the happy ending I owed you.

For those interested (because I love writing while listening to music) this was written while listening to One Last Wish from the soundtrack of "Casper".