Chronicles of Equestria II: The Magician, the Toy Maker and the Past

“The Great and Powerful Trixie!” proclaimed the stylized poster in magnificent yellow and red letters, bent over the image of the blue showmare. The room in which it hung was still the same: The not very roomy living compartment of a show wagon. Still, the room seemed a bit different recently. Since the wagon stopped moving and took an uncharacteristically permanent place a few hundred yards outwards from the outermost houses of Ponyville, its sole tenant started spending much more time inside it, sleeplessly laying on the bed mostly. As she spent more time inside - and not just the nightly hours - she decided to use her time to pretty up the formerly chaotic interior. After the dozens of reshuffelings of the small decorative items, the tiny living space finally started to look a little homey; and even though the mare who would have called it home didn’t enjoy thinking of it as that, it looked rather impressive as far as wagons like this go; almost good enough, that should the prudish poster and the caricature on it have maintained the ability for emotions, they would have found the accommodations acceptable to their obvious greatness.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie!” was also the name by which the blue unicorn who lived in the wagon used to announce herself proudly a long time ago, when making her appearances in various towns and opening her shows of wonder. These days however, she wasn’t always sure who Trixie really is. Nevertheless, that was the name everypony knew her as in the nearby town. The first day when she got herself a real job with real payment, and the reality of her new permanent residence had hit home in her head; she had visited a small café which doubled as a low profile restaurant called “Café á la Dessinatrice” - whatever that foreign title may have meant. The waiter recognized as- and called her “Trixie”. She never went back to that place. Instead, the only place she frequented in town aside from her newfound workplace was a little grocery store where she picked up some food to get her by and since the first two failed attempts to start a conversation with her, the checker figured out that she doesn’t want any of that, making her visits a quick, sleek exchange of food and coins, and nothing more, without any of the unpleasantries. Just as she wanted it.

The case with her new employer was strange though. She expected the odd stallion to talk more - or at least more than nothing whatsoever - they were working together after all. But no, the stallion kept it all professional and never said a word that didn’t relate to the job she was employed for. He gave her a bit of “training” so to speak, explained to her a few spells that essentially enchanted various carving and crafting tools to perform specific tasks. With some cases, once enchanted, she didn’t have to do anything and the tools provided her with the finished “product”, without any extra assembly required. Granted, the spells weren’t the simplest - some requiring her to basically breathe life into puppets - but oddly enough, she had no problem performing them, making it feel like she’s just an unnecessary bystander at some times. Oakleaf, her employer himself, said that all the ease of the spells prove is that she infact has a knack for this school of magic, but that didn’t help her feel belong there anymore than she did before, as the only reason the stallion needed here there was that allegedly he couldn’t trust himself to perform the same tasks as well as they should be. Still, the fact that she could do something - if boring - where she’s not being made a constant mockery of and also gets paid for doing so, had a certain good feeling about it which she didn’t experience in a while.

She also had to realize, that all of a sudden, her life had an odd routine to it, something she used to take pride in not having during her shows, always improvising and going with the flow of things. These days were all the same. She got up, headed to the Toy Shop where Oakleaf was already waiting with a small breakfast which she could eat in privacy if she wanted - and as she always chose to-, a copy each of a local paper called “The Ponyville Post” and of “The Equestrian” - both of which she could “borrow” at any time she wanted - and finally a list of the things she should make by the end of the day to keep on quota. Then she’d walk into the backroom, check if the materials are there, enchant the tools - or check the small book of spells Oakleaf left her if she didn’t remember - and continue doing this until the day was done, taking a break only to eat lunch, which Oakleaf also provided without a word. When the day was done, she’d get half the coins earned that day and walk home, dropping into the aforementioned grocery store, buying something for a quick dinner and then go back to her wagon, eat and lay in her bed with her thoughts until she falls asleep.

It was dreadfully monotonous, and kept feeling like she was just waiting for something. But what? That pipedream of a plan to go in motion, when she saves up enough coins to move away from Equestria for good and do “something” else? Granted, the only thing that changed in her days was the amount of ponies visiting the shop, meaning more and more foals heard of it, more and more parents decided to treat them to some special toys and she got more and more coins in her half of the deal, but it still wasn’t amounting up to anything, and even if it was, she still wouldn’t know what she’d do if she left. The irony of the fact that the same town that destroyed all of her opportunities in showbusiness and her willingness to be a part of it, was also the town where her only remaining chance to make a living resided, was bitter and yet tasteless at the same time,

The one, dim highlight of her day was something that she just couldn’t explain, it was also the only reason why she’d allow herself to accept breakfast from her employer after the first day. It was that strange “Mauvette” tea that she’ve never heard of before and which Oakleaf kept preparing with every breakfast. From whatever past of hers beyond the horizon of memory, it brought an unplaceable nostalgic feeling to her spirit. Everytime she drank from it, she knew she had this tea before, but was never sure when, only that it was long ago, at a time when everything made sense. At times, she even wished to ask Oakleaf what this “Mauvette” is, and how she could get some of it, because at passing glances she didn’t see any of it in the windows of the many stores that riddled the street through which she made her way between her wagon and the shop, but since the stallion kept so silent, she remained so as well.

She never was sure about Oakleaf either. Whether him keeping silent was just proof that he didn’t really have the highest regard for chatting, or that for one he actually did understand and respect her cloudy disposition towards social interaction, she couldn’t tell, but - even if not particularly grateful - she was glad for the fact that he didn’t probe her with chatter, unlike Oakleaf himself was probed by another. This “Colt Smith” character just didn’t sit well with her. There was something about him, his walk, his talk, his very being. She always knew then Smith was in the shop, if for nothing else, for the fact that he always was. The noise chatter between him and the shopkeeper echoed through to the backroom, almost as loudly as the breaks which came when Oakleaf tended to the customers or those simply looking.

It was rare that she actually would have seen Smith, mostly just when he duties took her out of the backroom, but she would always notice the way he looked at her. She was disturbing and hateful to the stallion, it was written all over him, though he seemed to want to hide it. There was something about him and the way he carried his eyes around the room, like if he’d examine if everything in the world is where he wants it, and then when his sight fell onto her, it was obvious that she failed to be at whatever far away little forgotten place he’d like her to be.

It was infuriating to be subject to the judgment of some nopony who thinks he has the insight to know who she is, or the right to decide whether or not she should be. She hated that stallion with a passion, though she knew no more of him than his name and that he was of the pretentious breed of science fiction writers, no doubt blindly proud of his own ability to foresee a future which will never come. Still, on some days...

She had to question herself, she hated a stallion over nothing but the way he looked, she hated him without once talking with him. Was she truly right to judge him for judging her? What if he wasn’t even judging her? What if she’s just blinded by her own hatred? But why wouldn’t she? This damned town took everything from her. She has all the right to be mad at it and any pony in it she damn pleases to be mad at. Starting with that no good, purple parade of-

“No.” she kept repeating to herself when such thoughts came through her mind. She kept repeating it when she had the strength to, but if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that most of the time she was weak. Trixie’s proud hatred of those who cast her aside infected her like an incurable plague, clouding her mind. She knew this, but Trixie did not accept it.

It used to be so easy. She’d just put on a show, entertain the viewers, get a round of applause, feel good about herself and then move on. A new day, a new show, the same naive enthusiasm for bewildering the eyes and minds of of everypony in attendance. So what if she was perhaps a bit too proud? She was proud to entertain! But whom? She was proud to entertain the same ponies who now gave her those looks all the time. She was proud to entertain these two faced creatures? She was proud of nothing.

And here she was now. Spending her days in a small claustrophobic room and another, somewhat more spacious one where she made small constructs for a stallion who didn’t speak to her. She didn’t speaking with anypony, she didn’t do anything. She would have read books to pass the time, but she knew who ran the town’s library and she dared not go there, buying books on the other hoof would have been a waste of the precious bits that moved her ever so little closer to her plans of leaving this place far behind.

Clearly, she was but waiting. But why? She could no longer tell.

“Elements of Harmony to Perform at Hearth’s Warming Eve Pageant!” read the headline of the new issue of The Ponyville Post. “Ponyville’s own Elements of Harmony (Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, [...] ) are to star as the protagonists, in the tradition re-enactment of Equestria’s founding. The pageant which will be held next week, will take place in Canterlot’s illustrious...” The article which the mare glanced over while eating her breakfast went out of its way to explain in detail who the Elements of Harmony were and why Hearth’s Warming Eve was one of the most important holidays in Equestria; basically everything anypony in Ponyville, who was old enough to not even read, but just understand what the words meant knew already. Trixie read the article scornfully, making note of the way it went out of its way to praise every individual Element, Trixie thought to herself that perhaps the writing just goes to show that the stallion who wrote it is this desperate for a date. That thought made Trixie feel a little better, before throwing the paper away and resentfully making her way to the backroom of the toyshop, where she’d begin her work.

She worked for at least three hours, but the thought of the upcoming Canterlot play didn’t leave her mind for a minute. It would have been a laugh really, if she had still retained the ability to laugh. What claim did the Elements have to being actresses? There are ponies who dedicate their lives to the stage, ponies who hear the calling of showmareship from foalhood and who dream of a chance to take part is such a grand ceremony. Ponies who actually work for this chance. But no, the Elements save Equestria and all of a sudden all glory goes to them. It’s of no matter that they’ve ruined the last Grand Galloping Gala before, oh no the article makes no mention of that. They’re now in the graces of the public and nopony should dare dream of greatness while they can just drop in and take the glory. But again, why should Trixie feel bad for all the actors and actresses who are shoved in the background? Why would they be better than anypony else? It’s a cruel world and if somepony disagrees, their number just didn’t come up yet.

She never really wanted to be part of that show, she never felt that her talent would be to enact stories made by others. She used to be her own mare and then, just like now for the actors of Canterlot: The Elements fell into her life. Especially that cursed purple poser. Already, in the back of Trixie’s mind a nameless voice buzzed echoing “No.” to her. that she shouldn’t go down that path, but Trixie didn’t care.

The “Princess’ Prodigy”, “the youngest mare in recent memory to be taught by Celestia personally”, “the greatest unicorn”. Bah! No doubt she was born with an enchanted spoon in her mouth! Hidden powers given to her through the lottery of birth and boosted by the Princess who took her in as her new favourite. Trixie didn’t need to be born with immense power! She didn’t need royalty lead her to greatness! She was clever! She knew how to make less into more, the dim into brilliant, the small into gargantuan! This “Twilight”? She never did anything but read books and follow orders! No matter how nicely the papers worded it, that was the truth. It was Celestia that sent her where she needed to be, and it was the ancient artifacts that defeated both Nightmare Moon and Discord! As if using such powerful objects for their intended purpose was something to be awed for! No doubt, should she, Trixie get her hooves on something as powerful, she could easily show over the pompous little Princess’ pet. But then again, Trixie is above such petty cheats. Trixie needs no aid to be the best she is.

In her anger fueled march of thoughts, she barely noticed that she miss enchanted a small little pegasus stallion figurine which wasn’t quite ready yet - it’s wings being nothing but the copper framework at the time - and wasn’t even ever meant to fly, however, thanks to her mistake: it didn’t know that. Before she could react, the hoof sized construct jumped to its feet before her on the worktable and started galloping towards the edge where it leapt off and flapped its incomplete, fragile wings twice before crashing into a shelf next to the table and causing it to tip over, creating a pile of tangled pieces of tin, copper and other metals out of the previously well organized components.

Trixie first groaned annoyedly at the situation, but her responsibility swiftly fell down upon her shoulders and the mare started to analyze the damage, devastated by the knowledge that it will probably take the better half of the day to sort all of this out. Before she could have even take in the true size of the job she created to herself, the whole pile shook and miraculously, the runaway pegasus crawled out without a dent on it. The mare gave it a furious look and stepped closer, to which the little toy appeared to be almost scared - or at least as much as a lifeless automaton can be scared - and tried to launch off the ground again, but this time, it couldn’t even jump an inch, as a large copper rim from the pile got hooked into its wing’s frame and shackled it down.

The mare grabbed the toy in a magical grip and unhooked its wing. Part of her just wanted to smash the stupid thing, but there wouldn’t really have been any point to that and in reality, it was really her fault. She wondered for a moment what she should do, but before she could come up with anything, the workshop door opened up, and a teal unicorn hung his head in.

‘Is everything alright?’ Oakleaf asked the almost obligatory, though rhetorical question. It was obvious that he saw the piled up pieces and the franticly wiggling and rattling pegasus toy, which was still trapped in the mare’s azure bubble.

‘Uh-’ the mare hesitated. A side of her said that she should just dismiss the old coot, after all, she can handle this, but an older, more honest part of her knew that she should just say what happened. ‘I-I made a mistake. With this toy I mean! It jumped off the workbench and crashed a shelf. I’m going to fix it! I’ll fix everything.’

With that, she quickly flew the toy back to the workbench, and started replaying in her mind everything the toymaker told him about these enchantments, trying to remember an undo spell, which would take the life out of this troublesome gadget. Before she could have done that however, the toy flew away from her. Something in her yelled that she cannot let this all slip out of her control and pulled the toy back, before realizing that she just went against her employer. She quickly let go of the toy and went into a fearful and shame filled silence as Trixie in her screamed at her incompetence.

‘It is alright.’ Oakleaf said in a calm tone and examined the pegasus, which now tried to cover its head with its wings. Of course this didn’t amount to much, considering the few tiny copper beams that together formed the framework barely covered anything. ‘It’s alright.’ Oakleaf repeated, but this time the mare wasn’t at all sure anymore if he was talking to her or the toy.

Strangely, the miniature equine seemed to react to the words, something she didn’t even know they could. She knew Oakleaf’s toys would know when ponies were around, but this thing almost seemed like it would understand what’s going on. The pegasus lowered its wings - still to no great effect - and let them hang in the air where it was kept levitated by the stallion.

‘This one’s an lively fellow isn’t he?’ Oakleaf said, but it seemed like his words are still more aimed towards the toy than her. ‘Rather fond of your wing for a flightless figurine, aren’t you?’ he continued, to which the toy seemed to attempt to stand up straight on thin air, and do something which would have been an angry huff, if it actually had lungs. ‘Alright! Alright! I see. You want to fly.’ Oakleaf seemed rather amused by this little toy. ‘It’s amazing how you managed to improve on the enchantment.’ he added turning towards the mare.

‘I-I did?’ she said unsurely. She thought she made a mistake, but... Maybe she didn’t? Maybe it was her grand talent in magic that helped her see clearer? Perhaps Trixie’s greatness is shown aga-! Oh no, no, no, no, no. She can’t write it off as her own brilliance. It was really just a mistake, as much as she’d like it to be not. ‘It was really just an accident.’

‘Many, perhaps even most great things are accidents.’ Oakleaf noted with a strange smile on his face which seemed to come from more than just the toy’s uniquity. ‘And it’s not at all unthinkable either, after all, our designs were based-’ he started but stopped quickly, the smile disappearing from his face, giving place for concern for a moment, before returning to a more intentional, but supportive smile. ‘Whatever it is, I think this little one is rather impressive. I don’t suppose you could repeat that accident on purpose, so that just makes him all the more special. You wouldn’t mind if I kept him?’ The teal stallion lifted his right foot and placed the pegasus on it so it could stand.

‘I suppose not.’ the mare replied. She wasn’t quite sure what right she would have had over the toy to begin with.

The toy which was now partially free, no longer held by magical forces, used its freedom for yet another attempt at escape by jumping off of Oakleaf’s hoof and attempting to crawl onto his back and run over him all the way to the still open door. To its great disappointment, it was suspended in a teal bubble before it could have even reached Oakleaf’s shoulder.

‘I’ll see if I can teach this little guy some manners. And perhaps some other things.’ Oakleaf mused on. A moment later he took a look at the chaotic pile of copper and tin components next to the tipped over shelf and added. ‘Come to think of it, I feel today is going to be slow, and I had enough of Mr. Smith for a day, so how about you take the rest of the day off? Feel free to take the whole register’s contents today, as a bonus for this interesting little thing, if you will.’ the shopkeeper finished, but barely audible he murmured under his breath a name which hit the mare’s ears, perhaps for the pegasus toy: “Silver Comet”.

This turn of events came unexpected to the mare, she thought she’ll be slaving over the mess she made for the rest of the day. In her mind, she knew when she’ll come back tomorrow, she’ll have to clean up anyway, and part of her wanted to just stay and fix what she did right now. Still, she didn’t feel like arguing with the shopkeeper, so just nodded and walked out of the workshop.

She wandered back in her mind to the thoughts that caused her to make the mistake in the first place, and a creeping shameful feeling crawled up the back of her neck. She was once again blaming the whole thing on that librarian, all of her ill treatment and misfortune on somepony who’s only sin was saving her own town. All this anger at her must be wrong, she can’t seriously blame Twilight Sparkle for doing what’s right. But then why does Trixie feel so much rage against the purple unicorn? And really, what if that Ursa Minor’s appearance was her fault? What if she put too much effort into her act and caused all that chaos, securing those two naive colts in the thought that she can handle the situation? For a year now she was blaming the world for everything that was wrong with her and her life, and for a year, everything fell apart around her as she did.

The mare walked past the register, giving it only a glance. Somehow she felt she didn’t deserve anything today, or just generally at all, no matter how amused Oakleaf may have seemed from what she created by complete accident. She didn’t even look at Colt Smith who was still standing there, waiting on the shopkeeper to return, yet still she felt the stallion’s piercing eyes follow her to the store’s entrance. Naturally, as soon as she stepped outside the door, she realized what an amazingly stupid thing she did by not taking the bits Oakleaf told her she could have, but walking back at this point would have just made things worse, so she just kept walking with the weight of that on her back as well.

Unlike every other week, she didn’t stick to the smaller roads and she didn’t stop by her usual grocery store. She never brought money from home, so she couldn’t have bought anything anyway and hiding away in less traveled places would have felt like she’s insulting the ponies of this town by denying them the right to judge her as she walks past them. And really, they probably did have all the right to judge her. She made a mockery of herself that day so long ago, and indirectly brought an Ursa into the town and then blamed the town and Equestria at large for resenting her. What’s worse, she went on to pick at every little thing in her mind. She picked at the Elements of Harmony for getting into a stage play, she hated a stallion for what she simply assumed he thought and deep down, a part of her, a part where The Great and Powerful Trixie resided, also resented Oakleaf himself for being able to live so normal, despite the fact that she knew that he had a life far worse than just being laughed out of a couple of towns.

That selfsame part of her now shrouded itself in silence. It wasn’t a silence of compassion, it wasn’t a silence of shame. It did not stay quiet so she may have a moment. It was a silence of resentfulness. That part of her was utterly disappointed in her, its pride unshaken, denying what her mind now saw as the truth. Trixie made no mistake and it wasn’t worth Trixie’s time to argue about such a thing. But the mare knew she did make mistakes. Everypony did. She however? She blamed everypony for them but herself for the past year and for that, she was worse than all others.

In this line of thought she slowly made her way to her wagon which now felt both too far away, and oddly too close to the decent ponies in Ponyville who don’t deserve somepony like her among them. As she didn’t buy dinner, and she left before the shopkeeper would have gave her lunch, she didn’t have anything to eat for the rest of the day but some leftovers from the previous day’s dinner. She didn’t give much mind to food however, she didn’t give much mind to anything. She simply walked into the little mobile hole and fell into her bed, facing the closer wall, closing her eyes and waiting for time to pass and maybe, just maybe some honestly good thing about her would surface in her mind, something born of more than pride.

As the night started to fall, though her stomach ached from hunger, she managed to drift asleep. As always, she knew all too well what was coming, her lucid nightly dreams being all but the same stories of fantastic adventures she’d have as Trixie, but she didn’t really want any of that. While she first drifted into the empty void before her dreams, she welcomed the tranquility of no longer knowing why her shoulders feel heavy with shame. Following tradition too was the presence of that beautiful smell. If she had a body in this pre-dream void of hers, she would have closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the nonexistent air to enjoy the strangely existent scent.

The dream came slower than usual, and she was glad for that. Every moment where she can be but a puff of nothing and wouldn’t have to worry about anything, seemed like a moment spent in paradise.

Drifting timelessly in the void, two words echoed in her without any reason which would be known to her. “Silver Comet”. For some reason, the words formed a somewhat blurred image to her as she wondered about them. A proud, silver pegasus stallion with a smug but friendly smile on his cheek. Without a warning, the void filled up with a strange fog, the pegasus disappearing. For a moment, the mare thought one of her Trixie adventure dreams will come on, but soon she realized that she doesn’t recognize whatever story is about to start, despite the fact that she knew every one of the dreams that kept repeating for her. Unlike most other stories though, this one was blurry, and not only because of the fog.

She was standing on grass, she could feel it under her hooves, and though the fog allowed little light, she had a feeling it was dawn. It was the oddest feeling for her, but she felt utterly and completely neutral. Her mind was at peace unlike in any other adventure where she’d be overtaken with adrenaline and a passionate need to fulfil some destiny or other. Looking around, she found she’s standing in the middle of a large area filled with flowering bushes that were larger than she was, all of the emitting a wonderful scent, and somehow she knew what they were without even having to go through the moment of recognition. They were all hydrangea. Off in a distance ahead of her, there was a gleaming teal light she was unconsciously walking towards while the source too seemed to move away, but it was fine, somehow she felt comfortable with the light. A moment later, a familiar voice she couldn’t place pierced through the fog from another direction.

‘Have you thought about my idea?’ the voice called from her right before a sound of flapping wings came from there and the thick, silver fog of dawn disguising the similarly coloured stallion were blown away. Though the fog was gone, she could still barely make out the details of the silver pegasus by her side.

‘What do you mean Silver?’ came from her almost automatically.

‘About me and your adventure stories of course!’ came from the pegasus, who leapt up and hovered before her flapping his wings as they both kept going towards the moving teal light beyond the fog. ‘It’s no fair you having all the fun with the shows! Think about it, a dashing, fearless pegasus companion to your heroine would give some dramatic tension to some of those teeth clenching moments when you face off against those various monsters! They would love it! I could easily add some fantastical stunts to the whole thing! I could even have a cool name, like “Captain Comet”, and don’t you smirk at that. I might aswell be!’

The mare wanted to reply “I’ll think about it.” and even felt like she’d like to laugh lightly at the strange offer from this strange dream figure, but then she wondered what it would even mean. What would she think about? Who was this stallion anyway?

A moment later, the image of the frantic little incomplete toy entered her mind, vividly replacing the image of the blurred stallion and dispersing the fog, the hydrangea bushes and the teal light in the distance. As the memory of creating the toy came to her, she suddenly awoke, confused by what was the first new dream she had since she could remember.

Looking at the clock, the freshly awakened mare quickly found it’s only half past four in the morning. Her stomach still ached from hunger, but her mind had better things than to worry about problems it can’t solve at the moment.

She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dream. She really wasn’t sure what to make of it, since she couldn’t remember any dreams she had where she wasn’t re-enacting some made up story about Trixie, but this almost felt like it was something different entirely. Almost.

As her mind processed it, she started to think it to be some sort of self commentary. This Silver Comet seemed like a bit too proud pony, who wants to show off his greatness in some sort of a show, which he only mentioned as adventure stories. She herself kept telling adventure stories about Trixie and has been cast off for taking too much pride in her shows. Perhaps that was what it meant.

On the other hoof, Silver seemed to want all that for the fun of it too, perhaps he wanted to entertain for entertainment’s sake, if a bit proud, sort of like she used to be before a year ago. But why would her mind cast these things into some toy she broke? Perhaps it was her mind trying to tell her that she has broken herself, that she can never be who she used to be. Or maybe, she was broken from the start. Or it’s just a stupid dream and she thinks too much and should just clean her head.

The mare sighed and got out of bed. She had no food, but perhaps due to hunger, a thought most ponies wouldn’t ever come across entered her mind. She could just graze. Sure, almost nopony did that these days, everypony cooking home and going to fancy restaurants, and especially The Great and Powerful Trixie would never dream of such a thing, but then again, she wasn’t The Great and Powerful Trixie. Not anymore. Or at least, not right now. She was hungry.

She went for a walk and though it felt strangely primal, she did what everypony’s ancestors did with complete naturality: She grazed. The grass wasn’t exactly fresh, winter lurking just around the corner, but probably because how hungry she was, it felt good and familiar. She remembered precious little of her foalhood, could be she grazed sometimes in those days.

Because she was tired, or because she awoke from a dream different than any other, her mind was clear. The occasional thought about the strange dream crossed her mind, but she felt oddly neutral. In way, it felt like when she was in that field full of hydrangea back in her dream. Nothing bothered her, but because there was nothing around to bother her and neither did she bring anything with herself to bother her.

In her walk, around the time the sun started to shine up beyond the very distant Foal Mountain, she came across a single apple tree. She seemed to recall that there was an apple orchard in this town, but since that would have been on the other side of town, she didn’t believe it would belong to anypony in particular. Without much of a thought to it she simply plucked down a nice big apple and bit into it. If it was two days later, she couldn’t do this, as the weather ponies would have already begun planting the snow clouds, and no doubt the last fruits would have been collected up. This almost made it feel like the Apple tree was there just for her, which made the apple just that little bit tastier.

Wanding on, she across the lake by which she stopped when she first came back to Ponyville and on a unusual little thought she took a final bite from the apple and threw away the core, walking into the lake instead for a swim. It was perhaps the most natural of things yet it almost seemed unclean with the fancy pools and tubs of the day, yet it felt so much better.

After a few minutes when she was done paddling on the edge of the water, she crawled out and quickly dried and cleaned herself with a simple spell before laying down against a nearby tree. She couldn’t word why, but it felt very strange to do all this. Take a graze, eat an apple and just to swim in a lake as part of a morning walk would be something one wouldn’t think unnatural, but they also were something she never thought about. Sitting there, in the shade from the low hanging sun, she felt surprisingly... Normal.

She was relaxed and didn’t care about her mistakes or the mistakes of others. She just did what felt good, and she wasn’t sure when she did that last. Just relaxing herself and her senses, she noticed that the scent of the hydrangeas never left her. They were there, coming from nowhere, ever present in her mind, but somehow, they didn’t stand out. They almost felt like an internal part of this feeling she’s having. For a moment, the thought that perhaps the reason she can still smell them, is that she’s still asleep, but if this was a dream, she wasn’t sure if she ever wants to wake up.

But, she wasn’t dreaming. Just a few feet from her as she soon realized was the spot where she stood when she came across that crosseyed gray pegasus and that unicorn filly whose name she both forgotten. She remembered the way she felt when the filly didn’t recognize her. The white rage she felt for being forgotten in the town she then felt responsible for her misfortune. The town which may have been responsible. She was ashamed for the way she ignored them and she curled up a bit under the tree.

Those two probably had it right. No doubt both their lives were so simple and wonderful, frequenting this quiet little place away from the commerce, just enjoying the day for what it is and not caring about anything beyond. That’s probably why they didn’t even know who she is. Infact, why should they? The mare’s earlier thought that everypony should know who she is, even if it is for ill was rather laughable. Why should all ponies in this town care to know who she is? Why would she be important to them? Why would she be special enough for them to care? Perhaps it’s better to be unknown and at peace...

But then, if they have no reason to know her, they should have no reason to hate Trixie. New thoughts clouded her mind as a darker part of her awoke as well with the rising morning sun.

If they had better things to do, if their lives were oh so crowded and lively, why would they bother to make a mockery of Trixie? Why would they waste their time to pick on Trixie alone? Why would they not only allow but create a shockwave of rumors and mockery to launch from this place, plaguing all of Equestria and ensuring Trixie’s denial and unhappiness? Why couldn’t they just damn well leave her alone to do what she used to enjoy?

These filthy ponies didn’t just mock Trixie out of necessity. They didn’t mock her because she asked for it. They must have found some perverted pleasure in taking out their own frustration on Trixie.

Trixie’s gaze laid on the lake’s surface wishing to boil it and burn this whole cruel place along with it, but the mare would never do that. “No...” she whispered to herself soothingly. A very old voice spoke out to her from when she was a foal. “It’s alright...” The kind mare called her by her real name, but it felt like it wasn’t truly her own. Not anymore. And Miss Cotton Heart as wonderful she always was, couldn’t have possibly understood the feelings she had now. Or at least, the mare didn’t think Miss Cotton Heart could.

The mare’s thoughts wandered off to the broken wand in her drawers back in the wagon, but she knew that thinking about such things wouldn’t lead to anything. It’s not like she could make anything right. Her eyes were starting to feel hot, and she realized that she still had to go to work that day and there was a large heap of tin and copper she had to sort out in the workshop.

She stood up, walked over to the lake one more time to wash her eyes with a bit of clean, cooling water, started walking into town and took a deep breath of the air which - though she knew didn’t really smell of the flower - carried the aroma of what was now her personal plant of tranquility.

“Winter’s coming tomorrow!” read the headline of the new issue of The Ponyville Post. “It’s Written Script here again today to remind you that tomorrow’s the last day of Fall! It’s been a wonderful year with many good memories, but it’s time to say goodbye to green and brown and welcome the clear white winter wonderland! By tomorrow evening, the always vigilant Cloudsdale Weather Team will be here to deliver our first snow of the year’s end, so be sure to take one last stroll down to the flower park and have a good swim at the spa’s outdoor pool today! Of course, I don’t need to warn anypony to bring down their warm winter clothes from the attic as well. (I’m looking at you Dinky!) Speaking of foals, as you may know, I’ll be taking a two week leave from the column to go to Canterlot with my family (I’ll even play a minor role in the pageant, should some of you not have read yesterday’s article.) In my absence, the team will insert some extra articles from the fillies and colts of Ponyville who as you know also work hard on their own paper ‘The Foal Free Press’! I hope you’ll enjoy their stories and will have a wonderful time these coming day! Good bye!”

The article didn’t particularly thrill the mare as she sat there finishing up the breakfast Oakleaf left her, but it kept her occupied. She wasn’t quite sure where the stallion was, since she was a little late and the store label still said closed. She had a feeling that the stallion may have went to look for her, but she was only a couple minutes late and the doors were left open so that seemed a bit unlikely, and she never did check the quarter of the house which served as Oakleaf’s home, so that was probably where he was. Instead of intruding, she decided she’ll just go ahead and get to the workplace to start her cleaning up of the parts and pieces from yesterday’s accident.

While on her way, she heard a strange, thumping noise from one of the ground floor rooms which she believed to be his bedroom. A few seconds later, the door opened and Oakleaf stepped out, on his back a small little pegasus figurine with proudly stretched, though a bit oversized wings.

‘Ah! Good morning!’ he welcomed the mare in a merry tone and went straight on into the shop area.

The mare wanted to apologize for being late, but decided not to. She went on down the hallway to the workshop. As she opened the door, she was expecting the tipped over shelf and the heap of parts. Instead, she found the workshop completely organized and the shelf fixed.

Any other day, she would have just acknowledged this and moved on to complete her quota, but today was somehow different. She wasn’t sure why she felt so new and yet old, perhaps it was the dream, perhaps it was the grass or the apple, but today was different.

‘Mr. Oakleaf?’ she said as she walked back to the shop part of the house. The shopkeeper was just coming back from turning the window sign.

‘Yes?’

‘I just wanted to thank you for sorting out the mess I made in the workshop.’ she continued. ‘You didn’t need to fix my mistake.’

The stallion paused for a moment before answering. His face went through a quick change of unsure emotions from surprised to something similar to glad, but not exactly on the spot.

‘Ah, it wasn’t anything.’ he smiled. ‘I... I’m sensing you’re in a different mood today than usual.’

The mare paused for a moment as well before answering, slightly hurt because she knew how grim, resentful and bottled up she sometimes was, and she also acknowledged the slightly doubted fact that things are different. ‘I do.’ she said simply. At this point, she noticed the little - now finished - pegasus toy she created yesterday. It was looking down at her from the suspended rails on a section of the wall. It was the only toy “alive” at the moment.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.’ Oakleaf nodded. ‘And if I may say so, I think I should thank you too. Yesterday, I finished your figurine up, and though it took a while, it was quite fun.’ he whistled, to which the stallion took its eyes off the mare and leapt off the suspended rails, this time gliding through the air gracefully thanks to its large strong wings and not into the nearest shelf. It landed on Oakleaf’s raised hoof, then turned back to her. ‘This "colt" here is a very special thing.’ Hearing this, the little pegasus lifted his head high proudly and snapped his hooves next to each other as the guardsmen do. ‘His blatant enthusiastic pride actually reminds me of someone I knew. Hence the name.’ As the teal stallion said that, there was a strange, searching look in his eye, but perhaps the mare just imagine that. Still, thinking back to her dream... It still felt odd that she dreamt about the toy. And there was that teal light.

She wasn’t sure for a moment if she should speak her mind, but she decided to do it.

‘I actually had a dream last night with this toy. He- well, I called him Silver and he was a real pegasus. And... There was this teal light. Like you.’

Oakleaf’s face went through the same morph of surprised then glad again, but then quickly moved to thoughtful.

'I'm not sure where the name came from, but I think I know what the rest of the dream is.’ he said, then after a pause continued. ‘I already said you obviously have a talent for this kind of magic, but what many don’t know, is that magic can be a very personal thing. I think whatever you did yesterday, you poured a part of yourself into this little guy and hence the dream came.’

‘Is that dangerous?’ the mare asked quickly. She knew very little of magic, but taking a piece of herself and putting it into something didn’t sound like a good thing.

‘Oh no, no, no, no!’ Oakleaf laughed. ‘Not at all! Is an artist hurt while putting herself on paper or a canvas, or into a piece of rock? Nor is a scientist who bends her own mind to understand a difficult problem. Magic is someplace between the two. What you did wasn’t dangerous, and honestly, not even all that special in the grand world of magic, but it was definitely something wonderful.’

‘Thank you.’ Somehow, this little situation, as awkward and rigid it felt to her made her smile. Maybe it was for someone actually complimenting something she did, maybe it was her doing something actually compliment worthy, but she was happy for it.

There was a piece in her mind which just rolled its eyes at her making small talk with this old stallion and for getting glad over some stupid toy she made, but for the moment at least, that piece was shoved in the back of her head. It would of course get louder later. The mare knew herself all too much. There was an unsilenceable part of her which would never accept that she is now nothing more than a helping hand in a small unknown toyshop, as opposed to the supposed greatness she sometimes feels she’s capable of, but right now, she felt good about herself. And she hanged onto that feeling with all four hooves as she went on to make the items of the day.

Eventually, it came to her that she never asked Oakleaf about the teal light in her dream, but as she thought about it, it was his spell after all. If the spell really was the reason she dreamt what she did, then her following the teal stallion’s lead in the unclear world of magic, would make a lot of sense. That must have been the reason. What other explanation could be there?