"Three days. It's been almost three days and that child has been crying almost non-stop. I'm truly surprised there is any breath left in that foal. Sparks rose from the bed, once again missing any chance of sleep. What is she doing to the boy, dipping him in boiling oil head first!?" This had gone on long enough, he was going to fix the problem, if not for his sake then the kids. His body was heavy and sore from insomnia, but Sparks got up, stretched out each limb, and shook himself somewhat more awake. After freshening himself up in the lavatory and munching down an apple or two, it was time to go to "work".

"Before I get started, where'd I put that damn Spellbook?" he muttered to himself with a lazy yawn. Electricity arced from where his skull and horn met to the tip, causing the whole horn to glow a pale blue. Sparks stretched his consciousness through the energy of the spell, grasping in the dark for anything "Book" shaped. Why not turn on a light? Many reasons, mostly given the fact he was moving today and was foolishly in a rush to deal with his soon to be noisy former neighbors and catch a train to the east before the sun got too high in the sky. Speaking of sky, Sparks almost facehoofed when he remembered it was a full moon tonight. Without even a thought, Sparks used his magic to fling open the curtains on his only window.

The light shined in, casting a pale light through the room. Sparks apartment was what some would call "cozy", other more supposedly sane ponies would have used the term claustrophobic or tomb-like. It was a single room kitchen/den/bedroom, comprised of a sink and stove for the kitchen, a foldable table and plush pillow seats for the den, and a single bed and window for the bedroom. Only the bathroom was hidden from view, tucked away as simple closet space. For a bachelor and a student, this would be more than enough room to survive. Sadly, Sparks was a collegiate wizard graduate; so naturally, almost all of the floor was covered in papers, books, and dirty laundry. In lieu of a shelf, journals, textbooks, all manner of literature and other massive collectives of the written word were stacked straight to the ceiling as faux support beams. Sparks couldn't help but mentally sigh, "Such are the joys of a hermit."

Now able to look over the disaster area of a war zone he called "home", "Ah-HA! Found you at last!" Sparks cried in triumph, levitating his prize. The book was huge, well over three hundred pages with inserted notes and bookmarks stuffed the mystic tome. Reworked and rebound time and again, the spell book's faded green form had seen better days and worse ones. The beaten metal corners and weathered lock stood with little contrast to the deep golden etchings of runes and signets covering the book.

Sparks took some pride in the old thing, he made this book before he was even an apprentice. It had survived the test of time, though hell and higher water to be there and take in his blood, sweat, and tears through the years. After coming back down from his minor victory, an old bad habit reared it goofy head.

Sparks just groaned to himself and turned to face the window, "I see the moon, and the moon sees me~! Luna loves the moon, and Luna loves me~!"

What was a colt's nursery rhyme to ward off nightmares had almost become a superstitious ritual or a nervous tick with Sparks, this would be a thing for concern if he didn't like doing it, this "habit" of his was only brought on by the legends of Luna, one of the Royal Pony Sisters. In the depictions he had seen of her one thing almost always stood out to him, both he and Luna had the same midnight blue coat. That and she was gorgeous, while he wasn't entirely hideous. Despite his small crush on a more than likely fictional character, it was mostly that the moon just brought him some peace with its beauty.

The piercing cries of the foal brought him back down to earth from his astral reverence. With a heavy, weary sigh, Sparks continued his "morning" ritual. Sliding the books magical lock down the length of his horn, Spark's aura enveloped the book and energized the sealing runes. Then the book began to spin around the spiral of his horn, locks rhythmically coming undone as the book ascended. After the main lock that sealed the book snapped open, he flipped it and layer it flat in midair as if setting it on a table. Turning his attention to his cupboards, he rooted around for a few things for breakfast. Despite popular opinion, Sparks could cook to save his life. It just wasn't fancy. At all. After setting up the folding table, he set out a mug of cider, a few carrots, a small wedge of cheese, and his own recipe; buttered beer bannock and a few squares of honey hardtack. 'A good enough early breakfast" he thought and got down to study. One of the first things you learn about magic; it is the Mages curse that you must spend a certain amount of time each day, studying and recommitting your spells to memory.

After breakfast and his spell study, it was time to pack. Though moving out was still an annoying task most any pony is loathed to do, being a wizard does have its perks. Through a quick cantrip, a wave of energy swept through the room like a gusty torrent; bundling papers together, stacking books into more convenient less concussion-inducing heights, and tossing dirty clothes into a recently exposed hamper. For now, at least the room had a sense of "organized" chaos about it. After prepping his belongings, Sparks pulled an inconspicuous pair of saddle bags out from under his bed and set it down in front of him in the middle of the room.

Giving the room one final survey, and nodding with satisfaction at the results, he began. Sparks closed his eyes to concentrate; his horn grew brighter steadily, giving off the sparks he was named for until everything in the room was covered in the blue light of his magic. Shaking and twisting his head a few times made all of his stuff levitate as he held open his bags. A dim glow from inside showed that they were far from normal. He began to steadily feed his things into the bags, each time something entered the mouth of a bag it shrank to fit and fell fast sounding as if it had been tossed into a strong wind.

The entire chore was done in a matter of minutes, Sparks now stood in the bare room like he never lived there for the past few years. "Years. Huh, it must be close to five or six years since we last saw each other." Sparks moment of inner reflection was cut short yet again by the sound of the crying child. "Best not leave my little neighbor wanting, or me brothers for that matter." Spark levitated a pocket watch, his coat, and glasses from either side of his magic saddle bags.

"I wondered why I was starting to get a headache reading my spells," he said kicking himself for his own tired stupidity. After dressing in his coat and specs, Sparks looked at his watch and made a mental note for when the next train was due. That done he strapped on his saddle bags and was finally out the door. Locking his door and pocketing the key, Sparks angled himself towards the crying. The complex was a forest of multi-storey brick and steel, cookie cutter cubes ponies could live in. Each one varied in price from occupation to number of occupants, mostly not the way it was intended. A family of six living in a flat for two, while some big name "Well-to-do" Merchant or what/whoever, lazed about in a suit fit to hold over a hundred!

Sparks just closed his eyes tight and shook himself violently like a soaked dog, best not to dive into that can of worms if you can help it. Not right now, and especially not today. Muttering a quick arcane phrase, a light blue disc of energy materialized over the railing of the walkway. He took a half a step back then leaped on top, like a big blue cat jumping up on a table top. Refocusing himself towards his destination, Sparks slowly walked forwards, then he moved with a steady trot. Trying his best not to blink or look down, Sparks made his way quickly so his fear of heights wouldn't come up to bite him in his current predicament; floating eight stories in the air on a spell with a short duration.

He wouldn't stop crying. The Earth mare Ginger Crisp paced back and forth, steadily cradling and bouncing her foal in one arm. Stopping now and again to rest on her haunches, and cuddle and coo in vain just to get him to rest. He wouldn't stop crying. The night was waning on, and work was coming with the dawn. Not a wink of sleep in almost two days. Or was it three. She could barely keep her eyes open let alone remember anything. Nodding off again, she startled herself awake feeling her boy slipping from her grasp. One of the many times she almost dropped him in her exhaustion. Her head and body ached, a chill ran through her body almost constantly now as she felt her strength leave her with every breath. He just wouldn't stop crying. Tears slowly form in her eyes from what little fluids she had left.

Suddenly there was a knock at her door, snatching away her attention from her child. She wiped her eyes and carried the two of them to the door. 'Someone else complaining about the noise", she thought. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know anything at this point.

The knock came again as she approached the door. Looking out the doors peeping glass, she could make out what looked like a mass of blonde and gray hair with a dark blue horn sticking out of it. "It's just me, Ms. Crisp." came from the other side.

Almost instantly she recognized the voice of her distant neighbor. Unclasping and opening the door confirmed what little suspicion she had as; if it wasn't for the full moon and his coat, she doubted she could have seen him. "Mr. Thunderhead?" she said, more than a little surprised to see her distant neighbor.

"Please ma'am, call me Sparks," he said regarding her with plain professionalism. The big stallion just stood there in the doorway looking her over coldly, almost bored like. "Mr. Sparks, what . . ." before she could ask anymore, his horn lit up and so did her baby. He lifted the baby up to eye level, panic ran through her like a shot. "Please Sir, I know he won't stop crying, just . . . !"

"Pttttthhhhr! Hur-hur-hur!"

Out of nowhere her had just blown a razzberry and nickered without even changing expression. The babies crying had slowed to sobbing hick-ups. Ginger was shocked, not only at the random noises coming straight faced from her reclusive neighbor, but the babies crying had lessened.

"Come on stud, time for beddy-bye," he said walking into her apartment. Her mouth hung open, she didn't know what to make of this. Had she passed out, or passed away? Ginger's jaw would have gone through the floor at what happened next, he started singing.

"Go to sleep, you little baby; go to sleep, you little baby. Your mama's gone away and your daddy's gonna stay, didn't leave nopony but the baby. Go to sleep, you little baby; go to sleep, you little baby. Everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn didn't leave nopony but the baby.~" He elevated the foal, rocking him slowly side to side. His horn lit up a bit brighter as four balls of dim light danced around, orbiting the pair. The deep singing had calmed him a bit more, but it was the dancing light that had his undivided attention.

"You're sweet, little baby; you're sweet, little baby. Honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop, gonna' bring a bottle to the baby. Don't you weep, pretty baby; don't you weep, pretty babe. She's long gone with her red shoes on, gonna' need another lovin' baby.~" The baby was getting calmer, just as sparks pulled a baby bottle of milk and a darkened bottle with a dropper.

While the baby was distracted by the light show, Spark had put a shot of the medicine right down his throat. Before the baby could start crying again, the bottle was already in his mouth. The taste of the warm milk washing away the foul taste of the medicine had the youngster suckling in quiet contention. After humming for a few minutes and taking the bottle away, the baby started up again.

This time instead of crying he was coughing. Sparks held the boys back to his ear, nodding after hearing what he did and bringing a waste bin from the room in front of him, he held the baby head down over it and began rhythmically patting his back gently. A few moments later and the boy gave what could be described as a cross between a burp and a hick-up, and brought up a mass of green gunk that splatted wetly in the base of the bin. Sparks set the boy right side up and held him to his shoulder as he surveyed the bin contents. His eyes narrowed to an "I thought so," manner, as he set the bin aside. After all that, the baby was more than a little sleepy.

"Go to sleep, you little babe. Go to sleep, you little babe. You and me and Luna makes three, don't need no other lovin' baby.~" They made their way into what Sparks thought should be the bedroom; the mother not far behind, there was a crib by the wall next to a bed.

"Probably kept him near just in case." he thought. The little one was so sleepy. Reaching out to a nearby dresser, Sparks grabbed a new baby blanket and a small blue beanie. In less than a minute, Sparks had him re-swaddled and in his nightcap, slowly rocking him lower and lower to bed.

"Go to sleep, you little babe. Go to sleep, you little babe. Come and lay your bones on the alabaster stones, and be my ever-lovin' baby.~" Tucking him in with Teddy, to keep the monsters away. Spark let out a small contented sigh and turned to face the mother.

Ginger Crisp just stood there, eyes wide and her mouth almost as, "H-ha-ha-how?" she managed to say softly. Spark kept the same expression he had once he first came in, with a shrug he said, "I have a way with kids." Before she could say another word, he was shoving her out the door and closing it softly behind them. Walking back into the den, Ginger finally found her voice, and her wits, again. "I-I can't thank you enough, sir. He-He just wouldn't stop . . ."

"That boy is in a lot of trouble." he interrupted flatly. Ginger just looked at him wide eyed as he continued. "The child is sick. Right now it's just a case of the sniffles, but if you don't nip it in the bud right now it will end up as bronchitis or pneumonia." Panic started in again for Ginger, "Bu-but you..."

"The only thing I did was give him something to sooth the cough and expel the bad stuff, that's it. Take him to the doctors in the morning," he said sternly, interrupting again. "But I can't, I have work tomorrow. I've had to miss three days, they won't let me take a fourth. Who am I kidding, I'll be lucky to have a roof over our heads in the morning." Sparks eyed the place, it wasn't a clutter of discarded cider bottles or drug related pleasantries, the place was almost as sparse as his own room of no less that ten minutes ago. Here and there amidst what appliances and furniture there were scattered red tags showing what left was due for repossessing. Even the babies crib, if memory served. Probably had the child forced upon her by pleasure or pain.

Sparks just let out a heavy sigh, "I should have known this would happen," he said to himself more than any pony. "Had I planned ahead, I could have dug the hole and still had time to make my train." he rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly.

Ginger could only stare at him a moment, "I-I'm sorry, hole? What hole," she asked nervously.

Sparks just motioned and grunted as if just now noticing her, "Oh, why a grave for the baby, of course. Well, I suppose since it is a baby, I won't have to dig too deep."

Rage. Rage and horror filled Ginger, how dare this stallion utter such things; "You - You, how dare you say that about my son! I love him, I love him more than any pony in this world. I would do anything for him, even if it cost me everything, even my own life!" There was what he wanted to see, commitment. No matter the age, a mother is a mother. "If she hadn't said something along those lines, I really would have to dig a hole. But for two," he thought.

Sparks just smirked, his horn lit up again and levitated out of his packs a few strips of parchment and one of his hoof-made fountain pens. "Oh yeah? Prove it," he said as he jotted down something on the papers. Before she could say anything, he had thrust the papers under her muzzle. "Here is a bit of honest work, it's nothing shady or under the table, but it is hard work. Give your "two weeks" or quit when you go in the next time, your choice. When you go there, go to the mare in charge, no pony else! She is a little hyper on the job, but she's the understanding type. She may have more in common with you than I know. Give her this note," he said separating the two, "and talk to her honestly. She will help you, I promise." he said solemnly.

"Try to move in with relatives, if you can. If you can't," Sparks let sparks fly from his horn as his eyes grew a light, there was a low electrical popping sound coming from behind her followed by a bright flash. When she turned around, something new had been added to the room. There was a small, stiff padded, canvas recliner with a crocheted brightly colored blanket draped over the front and down the back of it. A carved cradle rocking on crescent moons, holding a blue blanket and pillow, and a large wooden lacquered chest at least five to six feet long. Ginger just looked back at him, eyes wide and mouth almost as big agape.

"Furniture's overrated. This should be enough to get you both started in a measure of comfort. The chest is locked with a CAM latch, push up to open and down to lock. It has preserved foods and an ice box full of milk and fresh water, two weeks worth of my emergency supplies." he said in a proud, "matter-of-fact" sort of way. As he did so he also flipped over the first page of notes to reveal a list. Tears were forming in her eyes.

"Wha-wha, this is . . . I-I-I just... thank you. Thank You!" she didn't know what else to do, but thank him and hug him as tight as she could. Sparks just blinked to himself as he hugged her and patted her back. He thought she would be grateful, but he wasn't expecting this. "Y-your welcome . . ." he said trying to compose himself off the back hoof. And failing miserably.

Ginger just kept on crying into his shoulder for a while, "*sniff* Sorry, I-I just . . . this is the nicest anypony has been to me in so long," she let go of him as she wiped her eyes, "I just can't thank you enough." He could only stare off into space for a moment before he gave himself a small shake and cleared his throat. "You can thank me by seeing to it, that he has another birthday," he said with feigned sternness.

Before she could thank him more, Sparks just pulled a pocket watch out of his breast pocket, what emotion was on his face had drained as he regarded the timepiece and returned it promptly. With a smirk, he chuckled to himself; "Y'all have a nice life darlin', I've got a timetable to keep" he said turning to leave. She had barely wiped a tear from her eye, one minute he was standing there surrounded by a blue aura, she blinked, and then he was gone.

A cold wind blew through the complex's courtyard, all was quiet except for the electrical hum. A small, sudden bright flash and there was Sparks, walking away as if he'd been there the whole time. "Hopefully that's enough to get her through," he thought. Sparks could relate to a single parent, he had been kinda raised by one after all. After finishing up his business with the complex management, he was at Shetland station plotting his course to pick up his three brothers.

"Hmm ...; first pick up would be Quake off of Sandalwoods, he's closest. Then it's half a day's trip to reach CrackerJack in Skyros city, and we should be able to grab Bron a few hours later in Coffin Bay." After jotting down a few notes for the course, Sparks took a moment to prep a few letters to his brother on his estimated time of arrival. Sealing each of the scrolls with a wax seal of his cutie mark, holding the three aloft he muttered under his breath making the burst into green flames. As if on cue, a gust picked up and carried the ash and smoke of the letters off to the east, with two traveling more north then the third. The smoke darted off into the horizon like snakes in a river, greeting the morning sun as they went.

Sparks smiled watching them go, no matter how old or better he got, magic still amazed him. Taking a backward glance confirmed that the train would not be arriving for some time still, "Time to kill? Time to read," he thought taking a seat on the station's bench. As he sat going over one of his many texts, he couldn't help but wonder what his brothers were up to?

"We'll just wait and see ..."

To be continued in Silent Springs

Author's Note

The first entry in what I hope maybe a series. I was inspired to do this cuz of the relationship I have with my 3 best friends turned adopted brothers and the madness that was cartoons in the 80's and 90's.
If anyone can name the references/skits used in the works; 10 points.*
Also, Introducing my OC (Thunderhead "Sparks") !

*WARNING! The points I mean made up Old Nerdy/Brownie points (i.e. Thumbs Up, Good Karma, House cup, etc.)
Not: DA points, Bitcoins, PayPal deductions, money in any way, shape or form. ~sorry