A Game of Homes.

A letter by a beloved one.

Curryfeather take the huge wooden spoon with her right wing and mashed the oats under the boiling water.

Today was soup day and she was late. In the weatherfactory was lunch hour in two hours and she began just now.

With her mouth she gripped a bunch of spice, while she stirred well the soup.

She shoved the mortar nearby with her front hoof.

Now her left wing was lifting vegetables from a chopping board and threw it in the pot.

She ground the spices with the pestle firmly in her hooves and

added more piece of vegetables to the soup with her wings.

She was so focused on her work, that she failed to hear the doorbell and looked up first,

when a grey pegasus mare stand directly before the counter.

“I'm not ready with the soup. But if you wish I can make something else.”

She spoke so pleasant as she could, however sounded harried.

She threw repeatedly her glances amongst the pot and the guest.

First she struck the cap and the yellow mane under that.

“I hm...I've to only submit a letter.”

The mare whispered scarcely audible and smiled gently.

Curryfeather smiled back and paused for a moment. The bright eyes of her guest starred both past her

and were rolling involuntary to the ceiling and to the ground. However she hadn't time for additional observations,

the boiling soup was catching her full attention and she stirred farther.

“I've a sandwich and a little cup of tea from breakfast. Please take a cloud. I will be there for you in a moment.”

She didn't listen and prepared her soup much further.

She was adjusting down the heat on the stove with her left wing,

was laying with mouth a cap on the pot and was fluttering to her guest a notably comfortable cloud with her right wing.

She was flying aloft with a few flaps, was taking a plate, who like always stand above the pantry, with her teeth

and was landing again. Than she was gripping the sandwich with her right wing.

She was pushing a cup on the pantry in position with her hooves and was placing the plate besides.

Together with the sandwich she was pouring the Tea with her left wing and as the guest was finally served completely, she smiled.

“Excuse my lack of attention. I've never seen you here. I'm Curryfeather owner of the Curryparadise Cloudsdale.”

Pride and strain clinked both in this speech, even she managed to resonate a little kindness within.

Her guest was lowering herself unassertive on the cloud and took the sandwich with her mouth.

She was taking a bite, holding the Rest with her forehoof and chewing slowly.

Her eyes were while wandering independently around in the diner.

Gray Cloudwalls were delimiting the diner, only interrupted from red curtains. The center of the diner was the pantry,

a wooden plate onto white clouds. Behind the pantry stood a dozens piles of plates, dirty cups and a few pots on a metallic sink.

On the straight opposite stood a Cloudstove, a very special object. It was filled with the pegasimagic,

lightnings were sparkling within it and were heating the iron pots with their power.

The gray pegasus swallowed her first bite and was licking her lips. She closely beheld the sandwich

and was snuffling very interested onto the spread. She smiled again.

“That tastes very good. What's that?”

Curryfeather was glancing a fast look to the sandwich and smiled too.

“Oh, that's just my own jelly. Lemon with ginger and a wisp of cinnamon.”

Again she was distracting from the pot, his cap began to clatter. Again she was adjusting down the heat

and looked afresh to her guest.

“Curios. It tastes like apples.”

The gray mare licked a little jelly from the sandwich and was starring dizzied to Curryfeather.

She paused again and was examining the sandwich. She was fondling her mane with the right wing

and took a few sweat bead with him. She exhaled and was recovering herself.

“Yes, it's right. This is the applejelly. Sorry about that.”

Her guest smiled and was shrugging her shoulders. Her eyes caught the dirty vessels for a moment,

than were drifting to his own dirty plate. She hesitant put the sandwich back and gripped the cup.

“I'm arriving on a poorly moment.”

Her voice got hardly through the pantry, but Curryfeather was shaking her head.

She take a cup for herself and poured tea in. She drank and smiled.

“It's okay. Really. I'm simply not minding. That's all. How may I help you to feel more welcome?”

The gray mare smiled too and gripped the sandwich again. She ate up and emptied the cup.

Than she was turning it in her hooves for a while and seemed to ponder, if she have to speak.

“I'm feeling very well. Usually I am rarely in Cloudsdale. I wasn't good enough for the weatherfactory.

However, I've found a labour and have won good friends.”

Curryfeather was now listing very carefully, was blocking her chore and was looking encouraging to the pegasus.

She loved this part, once her guests were opening and speaking from themselves.

She was good enough as cook, that other ponies were feeling secure and were lowering their defence.

“I understand. I was feeling the same. I was unsure for a long time,

whether I really had to work as weatherpony. However I've found an other labor.”

She was drifting her glance through the diner and smiled.

“Here I may try out many recipes and I am helping my guests by their problems,

however I've nopony for.”

She was discontinuing and looked briefly to the pot. She lifted the cap and stirred the soup.

Than she returned to the pantry and was nipping on the cup without any reaction for her dismantled sentence.

“Which actual work do you have?”

Her voice was sounding harassed and was taking her inner rufflessness with it.

The gray pegasus seemed to be far away

and her eyes were drifting independently of each other again to the ceiling and to the ground.

She returned quickly and shook her head. Her eyes were hitting back to the normally position

with a hoof and she smiled hesitantly.

“I'm a mailpony from Ponyville.”

She was pushing her cap in position with certain proud  and lifted the cup with one hoof. But now she realized,

that it was dead. Curryfeather emptied the last pot in her cup and shook her disappointed.

“Do you like more tea? I could make some new and.”

The gray mare was shaking her head and ge laid her head askant. Her eyes were shining gently

and her same gentle voice was sounding clearly over the pantry.

“For what you don't have somepony?”

Curryfeather was pausing and turning to the gray pony with an open mouth.

Despite her obvious strange eyes she was carrying and being attentive for other ponies.

“Me. Nothing which I'll tell you.”

Her voice was sounding so offended and she was feeling in her words the harassment, which she should have to lock down.

She wanted, that her guests was feeling well here and all were going the normal way.

She was being the helper for everypony.

“What's with you, you have said you aren't often in Cloudsdale. Why?”

Again the gray pegasus was interrupting her and seemed to understand more,

than Curryfeather wanted to understood.

“I believe you have problems. May I could help you?”

The great yellow eyes were piercing both her forehead and her chest, but the voice was sounding again so gentle,

that Curryfeather had to avoid herself.

“Why should I talk to you, a stranger.”

Her own voice was sounding so high and fast, she was laying her hooves onto her mouth and was stroking herself.

“I believe, that somepony strange could be the best help. Like a cook, which listens. Or the mailpony, which comes with a letter.”

Again the voices was calm and without urging undertone, that Curryfeather turned over

and was losing herself in the eyes of her opponent.

“I've to send my child to Ponyville. She want's to be there, because we here are only looking pitiful at her.”

Her voice sounded louder, than she wanted, but the gray pegasus was only smiling and nodded.

She was remaining silent and lifted the cup, almost so, that she would may elicit more words out of Curryfeather.

It was working.

“I've told her, I would accompany her. But she didn't want it. I was looking at her pitiful too.

That she has been said to me. I've only wanted to help her.”

She was breaking up and turned over. Her wrought up would broke free, but she had them under control.

The gray mailpony stood up and let subside her head. Her trait made a slip for moment

and her mouth became very small.

“I'm sorry. I don't want to force you in the corner.”

She drew back and her voice sounded so quietly, she got hardly over the pantry.

However Curryfeather was able to understand her. She shake her head voiceless

and was trying to open her mouth, but only a sighing sound escaped her lipps.

“I don't like to be so dopey. I'm just trying to help. But I believe I've been making it worse for you.”

The gray pegasus closed her eyes and turned over. Her cutiemark seven bubbles appeared under the mailuniform

and she went to the door.

“Wait, please. I am sorry. A good host shouldn't bother his guest with her problems.

But maybe I could make you more than a guest. What's your name?”

Curryfeather have being in control of her voice just in time. She made it, the gray pegasus didn't pile off the diner.

“I'm Derpy. Derpy Hooves and actually I have to deliver a letter,

which has been entrusted to me. Scootaloo has told me, that I should hurry to bring it up here.”

The gray pony lifted a hoof and was pulling out a letter of her saddlebag.

She stepped hesitantly to the pantry and was laying it onto. Curryfeather looked to the Sender and read:

“Wingdaloo, Ponyville, Sunny Rays cottage.”

She was looking her over and a guarded smile appeared on her face.

Her voice sounded a little bit faster, but not so harried at all.

“Thanks Derpy.”

She couldn't say more and was gripping the letter with shaky hooves. Derpy was once looking into her face,

she was fast retracting to the door, as she saw the tears in her eyes.

She gripped quickly into her saddlebag, laid a bit on a nearby desk and opened the door.

“One is happy to be of service. Now I'm letting you alone with your letter. Good bye, Curryfeather.”

“Dear mummy,

I've arrived Ponyville safely and...”

Curryfeather was reading the letter twice and

looked pondering to the painted picture from her daughter.

Than she was looking out of the window and thought.

“Dear Scootaloo,”