Winter’s dark chill had crept into the world, and Roseluck wondered if the spring would ever come again. The last leaves had fallen the other week, and now the pegasi had posted a notice for inbound snow. All that remained now were a few precious evergreens, and what little she had in the greenhouse out back. And it’s only December… Rose sighed, looking at the flat grey skies beyond the flower shop’s windows. At least we might get a white Hearth’s Warming.

It was a cold comfort... Literally.

“This really is the worst time of year...” muttered Rose, eyes drifting over the mostly empty tables of the shop from her vantage point at the cash register.

“What was that?” asked Lily.

“Rosey is just jealous we’re hogging all the work.” Daisy said, pointedly, as she breathed on the windows, trying to defrost them. Lily was supposed to be cleaning up the muddy hoof marks on the floor, but was more concerned with her own hooves’ cleanliness. There was a reason her two cousins usually left most of the shop maintenance to her.

“I’m definitely not jealous,” said Rose, “I’m bored! Except the poinsettias, we’ve got no flowers in stock. And the only other things ponies are buying from us right now are mistletoes and wreaths. There’s no sunflowers, or poppies, or tulips, or anything…”

“What’s wrong with poinsettias?” asked Daisy.

“There’s nothing wrong with them, Daisy. It’s just… We’re supposed to be the best at flowers, and we hardly have any! Don’t you think we could have a little variety?”

“I’d love to, but unless you can convince the Princess to get rid of the seasons, I don’t think it’s gonna happen.” Lily shrugged apologetically. “At least our stock of herbs is healthy.”

“I know, I know…” But I’ve got nothing to do with herbs… Rose looked around the shop again, and then outside. The day was cold enough to keep most ponies indoors; the prospects of further customers was dwindling with each hour. “Can you two look after things for a bit? I’m going to check in on the greenhouse.”

“Go right ahead.” said Lily, as she frowned at a speck of mud on one of her hooves. Rose slipped into the back hall, and out the door.

The flower shop’s building served a two-fold purpose: the ground floor was for retail, the top floor was for living. Almost all the other buildings on this block were designed similarly; and over the years Ponville had been around, they’d clustered together, wall to wall. And in the middle of this cluster, and many others in the town, was an enclosed, open area that in theory was free to be used by all the inhabitants. In practice, Rose and her cousins had set up a greenhouse and a garden that took up most of the space. The other ponies were placated with entitlement to free flowers.

Daisy said they were lucky to have a greenhouse, glass panes weren’t cheap, but Rose always thought it was too small. Two benches held all kinds of exotic plants, and the space between them was barely wide enough for a pony to walk through, let alone turn around in. Still, the warm and humid interior was a pleasant change from the biting cold of winter.

“Let’s see…” Rose mumbled to herself. The orchids were alive, the pitchers for summer fly control were alive, everything was alive. But that was it; outside, everything was dormant. She didn’t even need to water anything, she’d done that the other day. For a few minutes more, Rose stood in the greenhouse, basking in the heat. It wasn’t easy to force herself back into the cold reality of Ponyville in December.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Few customers came, and those who did mostly came to chat with Daisy and Lily, as ponies were wont to do. And to chat with her too, of course, but she wasn’t feeling responsive at the moment. By the afternoon, she was looking forward to closing the shop and getting back to her reading. But Carrot Top had dropped in, to talk about… something. Rose wasn’t really listening, and that’s when she asked the question.

“Are you feeling okay, Rose?”

“What?” she asked back, blinking in confusion. “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You sure?” Carrot Top raised an eyebrow in concern. “You’ve been frowning off out the window the whole time I’ve been here…”

“I’m fine, really.” She even perked her ears up to try and reassure Carrot. At the time, Rose thought nothing of it, but Daisy and Lily shared a slightly worried look.

“You have been more quiet than usual today, Rosey.” Lily said that evening, as they had a dinner of hot soup and warm bread.

“It’s been a quiet day.” she replied.

“Hmmrphmmm.” grunted Daisy as she chewed. Whatever it was she said, Lily nodded silently.

After dinner, the doors were locked, the shutters closed, the floors swept, the table and kitchen cleaned. The three argued over who got to use the one washroom first, a nightly ritual which usually saw Daisy’s victory. “Can’t we just add another?” Lily asked. “Everyone else in town has added more rooms to their houses than they started with.”

“It’ll never happen.” said Rose. They’d brought this up with Daisy before, but nothing ever came of it.

“Oh, don’t be so dreary.” Lily scolded. But the wait went on.

Rose’s bedroom was tucked away in corner, through a hall so narrow that they’d had to take apart her bed to get it in here when she moved in. She kept everything neat and tidy, from the dried and pressed framed flowers, to the board of ribbons from the annual rose festival, to her assortment of books on the shelves and her desk. The first edition of Lady Clementia Mentha’s Historia Plantarum, written entirely in classical Alicornic, was her most prized volume. Rose didn’t understand most of it, excluding words like historia or plantarum which obviously had descendents in common Equestrian; but it was filled with beautiful hoof-illustrated pictures of said plantarums. She was very careful with the elderly tome, but even so, it was in need of repair, preferably the magical kind. Maybe Twilight could help with that?

Most other books she owned also had to do with her favorite subject. One of those was an eighth edition of Historia Plantarum, wholly translated to the common tongue, and with the wonderful pictures replaced with boring black-and-white woodblock prints. But speaking of Twilight Sparkle, their eternally excitable librarian, Rose had a new interest on her mind: poetry! Well, it wasn’t really poetry. On accident, Twilight had checked out a book full of griffon songs to her, called Traditional Folk Songs of Frithland: An Equestrian Translation.

Sadly, the book didn't come with any hint on how the songs should be sung, so she just treated them all like poems; which wasn’t actually that far off from the mark according to the book’s forward... Rose had no idea where this “Frithland” was, exactly, but the book turned the notion of the dumb, brutish, carnivorous, griffon barbarian she had previously held completely on its head. Sure, many of the poems were about the brave warriors and mighty kings of old, as expected, but there was more to it than that. Gloom was ever-present, yes; but where there was despair and loneliness, there was nobility and spirit. Rose absolutely loved it; she tasted a world completely unlike her own. She’d even written down her favorite poem-songs, as she’d have to return the book tomorrow. Before she went to sleep, Rose put down one last passage in her notebook…

“I’ve been thinking about how Rosey was acting today.” Lily said, keeping her voice low. Of course, their cousin couldn’t hear them over in Daisy’s room, but it paid to be cautious.

“Do you really think something’s wrong with her?” asked Daisy, frowning.

“There has to be!”

“Hmmm...” Daisy fluffed up a pillow on her bed, not saying anything more.

“Carrot Top got me thinking: Rose has seemed a bit down for a while now.” said Lily, pacing about. “Look at how she was today! Mumbling, and sighing, and not being friendly; and just this evening she was being all moody! That doesn’t seem like our Roseluck, does it?”

“No,” admitted Daisy, “not really. Maybe there is something wrong with her. She seemed almost… sad.” The two sisters started at each other for a moment, before looking in the direction of Rose’s room.

“You don’t think..?” Lily trailed off, raising a hoof in apprehension. She’d heard of ponies who got depressed in the winter, but the very thought of that happening to Rose sent shivers down her spine. That word was so serious that Lily didn’t dare to say it.

“I don’t know, Lily. We’ll talk to her tomorrow and find out what’s going on. If Rosey is unhappy, we’ve got to make things right!”

“There we go!” Rose whispered to herself, finishing her transcription. I really wish I could just buy this, but Twilight would say no. She read over the entire poem-song-thing again, making sure there were no mistakes. And then she looked at her favorite stanza again, circling it as she read:

Fettered by cold

were my feet,

bound by frost

in cold clasps,

where then cares seethed

hot about my heart,

a hunger tears from within

the sea-weary soul.

Grim, but so stirring! There was nothing like these tales in the Equestrian literature Rose had read in school. Perhaps she should have been more suspicious of this outlandish language and foreign darkness; ponies were a bright but inward folk by nature, herself included. But be it winter dreariness or just plain boredom, Rose found this new thing enticing rather than fearsome. She doubted very much her cousins would understand, or anyone other than Twilight, for that matter… Best to keep this to myself.

Unfortunately, at such a late hour, she was only half-aware of that sentiment. Rose forgot to close the notebook, and that despairing passage was what Lily and Daisy found the next day.

Author's Note

Unlooked-for and unhoped-for, John Hood finally writes a short story about his waifu. For new friends entering my magical realm, welcome, and feel free to voice any gripes you have with the story, I do try to act on them. Provided the story is in progress and your gripes are with current material that I can still change without huge effort.

To John Hood regulars, yes, this takes place in the same continuity as everything else, but is that relevant? Beyond condensing the sprawl of Ponyville, stabilizing the schizo tech-level we see in the show, and my shameless stealing of The Seafarer masquerading as a griffon song/poem, no, not really. And we hopefully won't diverge too far from our regularly scheduled programming.