Some days, when the sun sets and the moon lights the land. A little pony, hidden in the back, has a story she cries in the night. Her parents are gone, lost in time, and she was left alone. Adrift in a sea of clouds, mocked and laughed at for her shyness, she has only the worst of reasons to hold strong. For the times she cries, nopony hears her, and nopony helps, yet I listen. I've listened for years now, basically when we first met. I want to tell her how I feel but...she's hurting bad enough. I fear that this shy, withheld pony will never know how I feel or get over her pain. Yet I hope, someday, when it's right, I'll tell her, and I'll help her.