Chapters An unexpected guest makes a promise
Somepony was here.
It had been so long since she had encountered another pony that she was a little starstruck as he hobbled inside. At least, she thought it was a stallion. She wasn’t sure how mares and stallions were supposed to look anymore. Sure, she knew she was a mare, or at least had been, but she hadn’t seen herself in years, so her judgment was lacking. In any case, a pony was here, and she had no idea what to do about it.
The pony had shoved open the front door and crawled inside, trailing blood behind them from their hobbled leg. The howling sound of timberwolves came from outside, and the pony limped as fast as they could go up the rotten stairs and into a bedroom.
She watched in silence, her form invisible to the naked eye and her hooves made no sound as she trotted around the pony, examining them from all angles. The pony was wearing a set of simple clothes: Blue denim overalls that had a large tear down one leg, a white shirt that was now covered in dirt and blood, a large straw hat, and a pair of bent spectacles. The pony might be a farmer, judging strictly by the clothes, but she wasn’t sure she knew what a farmer looked like anymore.
“How queer,” she said.
The pony looked around in a panic. “Hello? Is anypony here?”
She jumped and scuttled back a few steps.
Had the pony heard her? Animals ignored her, but that might have been because they’re animals and didn’t care what ponies say. She hadn’t tried to speak to anypony in a very long time.
“I need help, please! Somepony?” The pony struggled to stand and stuck their head out the door, looking down the stairs and the hall.
The sound of timberwolves barking and howling got closer, and the pony ducked back inside the bedroom. The pony tried to shut the door, but it was jammed on some fallen debris from the roof, so they just ducked behind it and cowered, shivering in silence.
She observed the pony panicking for a minute, but couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong. The pony was scared of something, and seemed to think somepony was around. She was here, of course, so the pony was right, but something about that seemed odd, and she wasn’t sure what.
Timberwolf noises drew her attention, they were almost at the door.
“Oh! Of course!” she exclaimed.
She trotted down the stairs with ease, skipping most of the steps by leaping down, and slammed the door shut right as the timberwolves arrived. They had smelled the trail of blood and were intent on reaching its source. They scratched at the derelict door and stuck their noses in the broken windows. They couldn’t fit, and this was her house, so she could hold the doors with more strength than they could bring to bear. Despite their efforts, they couldn’t get inside and with one last snort of frustration they gave up.
She peeked out the window to check that they were truly gone, then loped back upstairs to check on her guest. The pony had exhausted themselves in their panic and had passed out on the dirty carpet behind the door in a small pool of their own blood. She was sure that was bad, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She reached out to pick them up and found that her hooves passed right through.
“Oh! Well that’s even more queer. Are you a ghooooost?” she asked the sleeping pony.
She got no response, but brought over a filthy blanket and dropped it on top of them. Then she shut the door and wandered around her house as she was wont to do. At times like these time passed in a blur for her. She thought about nothing at all and just wandered without a care in the world, spending all her time just looking, seeing, and wondering.
She was brought out of her mindless reverie by sounds coming from her house in the early morning hours. She raced back inside to see what was going on, only to find that there was a pony at the top of the stairs!
“What are you doing in my house?” she yelled.
The pony at the top of the stairs scanned the building from the landing. “Hello? Somepony brought me a blanket last night. I’m sorry for invading your house, but I was being chased by timberwolves. I’ll just, leave this here on the banister and be on my way. Thank you again,” the pony said.
She thought for a moment. Somepony had brought the pony a blanket… Oh! That was her! She had even driven off the timberwolves!
“Well you’re welcome. What were you doing in the woods so far from home, anyway?” she asked.
The pony didn’t respond. They just draped the blanket over the banister, then began limping down the stairs. They headed for the front door, intent on leaving.
“Hey!” She ran over and slammed the door. “I still don’t know why you’re here! Answer me!”
The pony jumped when she slammed the door, and looked around, frantic. The pony shivered as she yelled.
“I’m sorry! I was leaving! Why do you want me to stay?” the pony said.
She noticed the pony was looking everywhere but at her. The pony’s eyes were flicking up to the top of the stairs, the doorway to the living room and the bedrooms, even toward the kitchen and the bathroom, but never at her.
“Weird. Are you blind?” she asked.
The pony quivered and pulled at the door, trying to open it. “Look, I can hear you whispering, but I can’t understand you. I’m really sorry for trespassing, just let me go, please. I’ll, I’ll come back to pay my respects! I promise!”
Respects? That hit a chord she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Nopony had paid respects to her for years, but it was important, and she didn’t know why. She opened the door and let the pony leave. She hoped they’d come back.
She didn’t know how much time passed before she saw a pony again. Time passed in a muzzy blur for her, but sometime later she was sitting at a broken window staring at nothing when a pony came to her house carrying flowers. The forest was dark, but even in the muted light of the forest, she could tell they were beautiful. The pony placed them on the doorstep, uttered a short prayer to Celestia, and bowed at the bottom step.
“Thank you for saving my life. I’m sorry it took me so long to return,” the pony said.
Oh! She remembered this pony! They had stumbled in after being attacked by timberwolves, bleeding and scared. Had she saved them? She must have. They were alive. She could see no trace of injury, but she remembered the pony being injured. How long had it been? She moved away from her window and crept downstairs to the front door. Her house creaked around her as she moved, rustling the remaining furniture and kicking up a small amount of dust. She opened the front door, and the pony backed away.
“Hello? Uh, I’ll assume you’re there. Doors don’t just open by themselves. I just-uh, wanted to thank you an-and pay my respects!” the pony said.
“Well thank you very much. Your respect is appreciated,” she said.
When she spoke, a chilly and powerful wind blew from her mouth, buffeting the pony and sending the flowers rolling away from her house. The shutters that remained on her house rattled in their hinges. She clapped a hoof over her mouth and the wind stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
To the pony’s credit he or she did not run away. The pony picked up the flowers and moved back up to the porch of the house. They looked up at the open front door with a fearful gaze, placed the flowers on the top step, then hustled backward.
“I hope they are to your liking. After that night my dad always told me that I needed to repay Tikbalang for saving me. I kept putting it off and putting it off,” The pony said. “My mother said she kept it at bay with her charms, but after my dad died she stopped making them, and I’ve had nothing but bad luck since. The orchard is experiencing a lot of trouble, and my mom says my lack of thanks is the cause.” The pony took a deep breath. “So here I am. I’m sorry again for taking so long.”
Tikbalang? Was that her name? She was pretty sure that wasn’t it, but then, she hadn’t thought about her name for a very long time. She looked at the pony below her at the bottom of the steps. He was male, she was sure of that now. He had a small beard, and he was wearing dingy overalls, a plaid shirt, and a weather-worn straw hat. He was very stocky in build, but he still had spectacles on that looked far too small for his face.
Tikbalang, as she decided to refer to herself, placed a hoof on the flowers to keep them from blowing away. “Thank you. I do not mind that it took you so long. Please, make yourself at home.”
The cold wind blew again when she spoke, but she managed to hold the flowers in place. The stallion below watched the flowers withstand the wind and a small and thankful smile crossed his face.
He bowed again, deeper this time. “Thank you Tikbalang. I’m happy to have pleased you with this gift. I’ll take this information to my family, and I hope you’ll give us good luck in the harvest.”
He turned away, bowing multiple times as he went, and she smiled as she watched him go.
She tried to pick up the flowers he had left, but couldn’t grip them, and only succeeded in rolling them about. She decided to leave them there and just look at them.
Time passed again. Her flowers wilted in an amount of time she couldn’t fathom, and when the snow came and disappeared, not a single trace of them remained. Her house was cold, but she didn’t feel it. It snowed, but it didn’t touch her. Her house creaked, but she held it up, even under the weight of winter.
One cold and blustery day during the snowfall, she was once again staring at nothing out of an upstairs window when she saw a pony approaching her house. The pony looked up with a hoof over their eyes and jumped back, startled. The pony was looking at her window, and she stared back, their eyes meeting. The pony started to turn away, but squared their shoulders and continued their approach. The pony stood in front of her house, just at the bottom of the front porch steps.
“Tikbalang please, I beseech you! My younger sister has become lost in your forest, and I’ve been searching for two days! You let me go even after I trespassed, and you gave us a good harvest!” He was looking up at her window as he yelled, focusing on her face. “If she has wronged you I will make it right! If you will allow it, I will come back and with these two hooves, I will repair your home! Just please let my sister go!”
Oh, it was this stallion again. He was confused, wasn’t he? This wasn’t her forest, was it? She didn’t remember much about herself, but she would notice if she was controlling the forest, surely. She was able to leave her house, but she didn’t see much need to do so. But still, if he would repair her house, that was worth some trouble. Her house was in dire need of repair.
She walked downstairs, opened her front door, and galloped past the stallion off into the woods at all speed, a blizzard blowing up behind her as she went. Tikbalang blew between the trees, over logs, under bushes, and across frozen ponds. The branches rustled and trees swayed in the wind of her passing as she hunted for a pony in the deep, dark corridors of a forest blanketed in white. She passed by what looked like a village in her search, lights glowing from windows even this early in the afternoon. Nearby, she traveled through a series of trees that were arranged in neat rows. These were things she didn’t remember seeing before in her forest. She wondered about them for a brief moment, but galloped on her way.
Night in the forest of Hollow Shades always came early. The canopy hid the forest floor from the light, even in the summer months. Winter wasn’t any better, with the snow adding to the sameness of the forest, showing nothing but white in all directions a pony could look. It wasn’t until after night fell that Tikbalang found a lone pony, stumbling through the darkness near the mountains south of Hollow Shades.
She trotted closer to the lost pony, and the ever-present wind at her hooves blew around the mare, causing her to cover her face. Tikbalang could see that she had a lantern at her side, but it had gone out, leaving her in darkness. Tikbalang tried to put a hoof on her, but it passed through the mare. She pulled back in thought as the mare shivered in the dark. She needed some way to show her where to go.
Tikbalang thought about ways to make herself known. For some strange reason ponies didn’t seem to see her, and every time she opened her mouth, a cold wind blew over her, muffling her voice. She didn’t want to cause the mare any further discomfort, but how else could she show the mare the way?
It was then she remembered a trick she had used a long time ago. She lifted up a hoof, and blew on it. A chilly breeze passed through the forest, and a cold blue flame appeared on the tip of her hoof, burning with unnatural light. Tikbalang reached back and placed it on her withers, where it burned without consuming anything, a point of light in the snowy landscape surrounding the two ponies.
The mare fixated on the light, calling out for help. “Hello? Can you help me? Hello? Anypony?”
Tikbalang didn’t respond, not wanting to cause her further discomfort, but instead blew a soft and chilly breeze toward her, then started walking toward the town.
The mare stayed where she was for a moment, then scrambled through the snowdrifts, following Tikbalang. “Wait! Don’t go! Please, I’m lost!”
Tikbalang walked along on top of the snow, weaving in and out of the trees just ahead of the lost mare. She kept up as best she could, but Tikbalang could see she was already exhausted. The poor mare’s energy was failing, and pushing through the heavy drifts was sapping her strength. They had only made it halfway to the town when the mare toppled over, shivering.
“Get up,” Tikbalang whispered, blowing a cold wind over her.
The mare couldn’t pull herself up, though she tried. She had been lost for far too long, and it had taken its toll on her. She wasn’t going to be able to save herself anymore.
Tikbalang looked at her one more time, then galloped away, a frozen wind in the night. She wove through the trees until she saw the lights of the town. Once there, she stood just outside the lights of their fires and the warmth of their community. She understood implicitly that she was unwelcome inside, and couldn’t enter even if she wanted to. But she could make herself known.
Tikbalang inhaled nothing, and blew. She sent an icy wind passing over the town, rattling windows and shaking doors in their hinges. A large fire built in the town square flickered but was undeterred from burning hot in the night. She saw a few ponies who were out and about stop in their tracks, but they didn’t stop for long, only sparing the wind a passing glance.
She blew again, sending cold winds through the alleys and over the rooftops, snow falling from the trees grown high above them, shaking those houses built in those same trees where some flying ponies lived. She blew again, and finally she started to hear some commotion.
“It’s unnatural I tell you. Something out there is angry!” a pony yelled.
She had their attention, at least. She blew again, and again, and again, until the commotion had filled the entire town. Finally, she saw a lone pony come galloping down the streets toward the forest where the wind originated from. The pony left the safety of the town, a lantern at their side, until they came to the edge of the wild woods and saw Tikbalang’s blue flame, floating in the dark.
“Tikbalang? Is that you? Have you found my sister?” The stallion asked.
Tikbalang did not respond, but trotted away into the woods. The stallion looked down at his lantern, then back at her flame, and extinguished his own light, following hers into the utter blackness of the woods.
She led him straight to the copse where his sister had collapsed, waiting next to her prone and snow-covered form. He scrambled up to her, clutching her to himself. He held a hoof up to her forehead and exhaled in relief.
“She’s alive! Thank Celestia!” he exclaimed. “And thank you, Tikbalang. She would be lost if it were not for you. I will keep my promise come the spring. Thank you again!”
He lit his lantern, hefted his sister onto his back, and followed his tracks back to town, leaving Tikbalang alone in the dark forest once more.
Tikbalang watched him leave, and when he was gone she stood there for some time. She extinguished her ghost-light and looked at his tracks, watching them disappear under a fresh coat of snow. When morning arrived, she realized she had been standing there thinking about nothing again. She turned to head home, her passage creating a small breeze that rustled the branches as she went.
Once she arrived she looked around at the derelict building she lived in. That stallion had promised to come fix it. That was important to her, but she wasn’t sure why. She lived here, sure, but there must have been a reason she lived here. There must have been a reason why other ponies couldn’t see her and she couldn’t touch them. Something important that she had forgotten.
She looked at the paintings on the walls, faded with time, and scoured by the elements that passed through the windows. She couldn’t make out many features on many of them, but she wondered if she was one of them. She couldn’t remember her own name or what she looked like. She had a new name at least.
“Tikbalang,” she said to herself.
It was an acceptable name. She didn’t have anything else to go by, so Tikbalang was good enough for now. Maybe she could find her own name while her house was being restored. He had better do a good job.
She reached out a hoof and touched the end of the banister, then looked at the paintings again and reached out to touch one of them. Her hoof met damp canvas, and she felt the oil paint under her hoof as she rubbed the portrait. She could touch things in her house, and interact with them, but outside it was a lot harder, and sometimes impossible. Why was that? Was she the ghost? No. That was ridiculous. She’d know, surely.
Tikbalang stood staring at the paintings on the walls of her home for a long time. She noticed the sun rise and set in the windows, but didn’t pay them much mind as days melted away, until the snow outside followed suit. She was roused from her reverie when a knock came at the door.
“Tikbalang? It’s me again, Plum Pudding. I don’t actually remember if I told you my name before, but if I hadn’t, that’s it,” he said from behind the door. “I’m here to keep my promise. I learned my lesson the first time, and I won’t be putting this one off for years.”
Tikbalang walked to the front door and opened it with a hoof, the rusted hinges squealing as she opened the door. Plum Pudding—as he was called—stood on the front porch in overalls and a plaid shirt. His glasses sat on the end of his nose, but he had no hat on this time, just a messy mane sprouting out the top of his head. Next to him he had a case of tools of all sorts she didn’t recognize, and a cart full of other supplies sat at the bottom of the porch behind him.
“Well I appreciate you coming,” Tikbalang said. “I don’t know where to start, but you’re welcome to work anywhere you see fit.”
As she spoke, a breeze blew through the house and out the front door, whipping Plum Pudding’s mane about. He smiled as he felt it and bowed to the open door, and also her, though he didn’t know it.
“Well I still don’t know what you’re saying, but I’ll take that as an invitation. Today will mostly be a quick survey and emergency repairs to make the floors safe for me to stand on, but I’ll work on it, and slowly but surely you’ll have your house back,” Plum Pudding said.
Tikbalang stepped to the side as Plum Pudding entered her house. He whistled as he looked about, and began pacing the first floor. He walked the length and breadth of the house, checking the floorboards and examining the windows. She followed him as he went, curious as to what he was going to do and how he would go about doing it.
“Who even builds a lone house out in the middle of nowhere like this? How old even is this place, Tikbalang? What in Equestria did your family do for bits?” Plum Pudding asked. “I mean, the place is old, but sturdy, and situated at the top of a hill, meaning it was constructed with money and knowledge.”
Plum Pudding made it to the kitchen and looked around. He poked at the basin, looked at the pipes, examined the stove and the oven, and checked out the cupboards. He moved to the living room, checking the furniture underneath the rotten sheets that had been draped over them. He looked at the sparsely populated bookshelves and lifted one of the books off, only for it to drop all its pages out onto the floor.
“Oh! Oh dear, I’m sorry Tikbalang. I didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said.
“It’s fine.” Her breath rustled the pages where they had landed.
He put the remaining pages back on the shelf and moved on to the stairs. He tested each one as he walked up, making sure they were all strong enough to support a pony’s weight. He passed through the bedroom, giving each one a glance, until he made it to the master bedroom. Contrary to the rest of the house, this room was still fully decorated. Drapes, paintings, a four-post bed, a dresser, wardrobe, vanity, and a full-length mirror. Tikbalang didn’t come here often. She didn’t know why.
Plum Pudding wandered around the room in awe. “Was this your room Tikbalang? This is beautiful.” He ran a hoof over one of the posts on the bed. “There’s even still clothes in the closet!” He disappeared into a door and Tikbalang could hear rustling. “They’re still mostly intact, too!”
Tikbalang hovered at the entrance to the room, unwilling to go further in. He was right, it probably was her room, but she didn’t like it. Something bad had happened here, she was sure of it.
Plum Pudding kept wandering around, sticking his nose in things—her things—and she felt the need to keep an eye on him while he did, so she stepped further in, following him as he moved from her closet to her wardrobe.
The wardrobe was filled with more expensive-looking items and fashionable things compared the everyday items that filled the closet. She was sure if she could smell they would smell of mothballs, dust, and mildew. Fur coats, jewelry, fancy boots and other accessories. They were in remarkable condition for having been abandoned in the woods for such a long time. The whole room was, compared to the rest of the house.
Plum Pudding moved from the wardrobe over to the full-length mirror, and looked inside. Tikbalang followed him and watched from behind as he wiped the dust off the mirror with a rag, he adjusted it to get a better look at himself, and then jumped to the side, looking behind him with a cry.
“Gah! I’m sorry Tikbalang! I’ll, uh, continue checking the rest of the house,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you by looking at your room. It’s fine. I’ll focus elsewhere.”
He scurried out of the room and shut the door, leaving her confused and alone. She looked back at the mirror. He had seen something that scared him in there. She moved closer, but could see nothing. Just a reflection of the room itself.
Tikbalang reached out and tilted it up and down, reflecting everything but herself. That wasn’t normal, was it? She should see herself in the mirror, because she was in front of it. That was common sense. She even put a hoof on the reflective surface, and couldn’t see any part of her touching it. It wasn’t there at all, and it should be. This was important, and as far as she knew this was the only mirror in the entire house. That must be why she didn’t come in here.
She felt a niggling thought at the edge of her mind, but she didn’t like the feeling. She tilted the mirror so it faced up, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Plum Pudding had already gone back downstairs, and had pulled out some parchment and a quill. He was scribbling down notes about her house, muttering to himself as he wrote.
“Hmmm… replace the floorboards here… nngh, maybe… then check that, and look at the… no modern plumbing. Oh!” He lifted his head and looked around. “Tikbalang, I heard the upstairs door shut, are you here?”
“Yes.” Her words blew through his mane and ruffled the parchment.
“Ah. Is there a well nearby? There must have been, at one point,” Plum Pudding asked.
Tikbalang thought for a moment, and breezed through the house out the back door, the banging portal indicating to Plum Pudding where she had gone. She traveled down the gentle slope of the hill to a thicket of brambles and stuck her head inside to see if her memory served her right. There, nestled deep within the thirsty blackberry bush sat a stone well, the wooden cover mossy and neglected like most things at her home. Plum Pudding came out the back door soon after, glancing around to try and find where she had gone, only to lay eyes on the rustling briar.
“Oh, of course! Look for the greenest plants, as my dear old dad always said.” Plum Pudding marched down the slope and pushed the thorny vines out of the way. “Ah, there we are. I wonder if it’s still good?”
Plum Pudding tried to lift the lid, but it was heavy and held down by the thick vines that surrounded it. It shifted, but wouldn’t come off despite his best efforts.
“Damn. I suppose I’ll have to bring a machete next time,” he said. “Well, at least I know it’s here. Thank you, Tikbalang.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
He climbed back up the hill and went inside, filling out his parchment with notes as he passed through the house a second time. Tikbalang watched him work as he replaced some stairs and certain portions of the flooring. He avoided her room. She assumed it was to avoid offending her, though she wasn’t offended. He had seen something that made him uncomfortable, and she wished she could ask him what.
His work was quick, and a bit hasty, but she assumed from what he had done that it was to give him access to the rest of the house in safety. All of what he had replaced had been on the floor.
When the sun began to set, Plum Pudding packed up his tools, but left the remaining wood he had brought inside. “I’ll leave this here, Tikbalang, keep it safe okay? I’ll bring more supplies next time now that I know what needs fixed. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it will be soon, okay? I thank you for your continued goodwill, Tikbalang.”
Plum Pudding hitched himself to his cart and walked down the slope along the overgrown road leading away from her home. Tikbalang watched him leave and looked at the pile of wood inside the front door of her home. If he was true to his word, she would have her home back soon enough. She shut the door and stared out the window, letting time pass.
Tikbalang didn’t have to wait as long this time. It was only several days before Plum Pudding came back with a cart full of more materials. He came, and bowed at the front porch before he walked up the steps. Tikbalang opened the door for him before he could knock, and he bowed his head as he entered.
“Good day to you Tikbalang. I hope it finds you as well as you can be. I don’t know how spirits are supposed to feel, I must admit, but I do wish you the best,” Plum Pudding said.
“I am… as well as can be expected,” Tikbalang responded.
At the breeze of her voice, he laughed in a good-natured way, smiling from ear to ear. “I have good news, Tikbalang! I have met a mare.” Plum Pudding pulled out supplies and piled them into the house as he talked. “Well, I met her last year before winter began, but I’m going to ask her to marry me. I think she’ll say yes. I’m going to propose in the orchard when the blossoms come in. You’ll wish me luck, won’t you?”
Tikbalang smiled. “Of course. I wish you the best of luck.”
He laughed and performed a little jig after dropping a pile of lumber. “Thank you Tikbalang. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Plum Pudding began his work in earnest and didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. He was focused and driven, and in love. His mind was elsewhere, but his hooves were sturdy. He went through the house and replaced more of the wood, sanded out lumps, scoured stones and counters, and tore up sections that were beyond hope. By the end of the day, Tikbalang’s house was missing a lot of sections, but she realized it was necessary to replace them if she wanted her house to be as it once must have been.
Plum Pudding left, and Tikbalang looked around at her house. It was being fixed. That was a relieving and frightening feeling at the same time. She didn’t know how well he could do, but the progress he’d already made was nice enough to look at. She just hoped he could get the colours to match somehow.
She went to stand at an upstairs window, looking out over the green and growing forest as it entered a new year, blooming and blossoming everywhere she looked. She, meanwhile, stayed the same, and waited, once again.
It was a little longer before Plum Pudding came back, carting behind him his tools and supplies. He had a smile on his face, and was skipping up the path to her home. He arrived, parked, and looked up at the windows with a smile and a wave. Tikbalang smiled back and waved, whether or not he could see her, then went down to open the door.
As soon as it was open Plum Pudding burst in with a laugh. “Tikbalang, I’ll give you three guesses as to her answer!”
“She said yes?”
“She said yes!” He performed his little jig again. “The wedding will be in the orchard in summer, hopefully when the fruit is ripe so the sweet smell of the harvest will bless our union. If it grows badly it will smell like rotting fruit, but we won’t let that stop us!” He stood up on his hind hooves and spun in a circle. “Oh, Tikbalang, if I could, I would kiss you for blessings you have brought on me and my family. As it stands, I will thank you by fixing your house. I cannot promise I’ll be here as often during preparations for the wedding, but I do promise that your house will be fixed. On my honor as the stallion of the Pudding family.”
Tikbalang said nothing. She was a little jealous of the mare he was marrying. He was the first guest she had had in a very long time, and it was rather nice having a regular visitor. But he couldn’t see her, nor could they touch, so it was moot. He was here, and he promised, and he had yet to break a promise, so she would wait and see.
Plum Pudding sang as he worked through the day, and when he left that evening Tikbalang waved goodbye as he disappeared down the trail. She looked at the work he had done and smiled a small smile. It was slow, and he had only started work on one room, but he was making good headway. It looked like he was even testing different stains, paints, and other colours to make sure the boards would all match each other. That was good to see. She went and stood next to the window upstairs, and waited.
She lost track of time again as she waited, and she was surprised to see Plum Pudding come galloping up the path to her home, dressed in a suit. He skidded to a stop at the front porch of her home and bowed low.
“Tikbalang! I am sorry I haven’t come recently, but my wedding plans and work have been keeping me busy. I wanted to invite you to my wedding. I don’t know if you want to, or if you care, but you have brought fortune to my life, and it would mean a lot if you would come,” Plum Pudding said.
Tikbalang was shocked. She didn’t quite know what to make of his offer. She could leave her house at any time, but she never saw much of a reason. She didn’t need to eat or drink, and visiting anypony or anyplace was pointless when they couldn’t see or hear you. Should she go?
Plum Pudding waited for the telltale breeze of her voice or for the door to open, and when neither one came come he started getting nervous. “Tikbalang? Are you there? Are you upset that I haven’t worked on your house? I’ll cancel the wedding if you don’t want to give me your blessing. I value your goodwill too much, Tikbalang.”
Oh, Celestia, the poor stallion was going to cancel the wedding. She needed to say or do something. She would go, if only to prevent him from thinking she didn’t approve. She did, she was just confused.
Tikbalang went down to the front door. As soon as it creaked open, Plum Pudding stopped talking and waited. Tikbalang brushed past him down the path that he always traveled up, hoping that would indicate she was ready to go to the wedding.
Plum Pudding grinned wide as he felt the breeze pass by him, headed toward the village. “Thank you, Tikbalang! This means so much to me! Wait till you see my wife, she’s lovely as a peach blossom, and sweet as the fruit it becomes!”
Tikbalang walked along beside him as he babbled on about his beautiful wife, and his plans for the wedding and subsequent honeymoon. He promised again and again that he would come back and work on her house after the honeymoon. He talked about his plans for the rooms and doors. He had a pony who could get him some glass for the windows for cheap, and all the different places he was getting the tools and lumber. He talked about how he knew the type of architecture that was used to build it, and he was looking up information on who the house belonged to and when it arrived in the area. Tikbalang heard him talk about all of it, but only partially listened. She was focused on what she would do at the wedding.
She hadn’t left her house much, and when she did it was to wander the forest or mountains nearby. She hadn’t sought out the company of other ponies for a very long time, and now she had a pony who considered her a friend of sorts, and he had invited her to his wedding. What would she do? Should she just stand there and watch? It wasn’t like she could talk to any of them or partake in any refreshment. All she could do was create wind. It probably wouldn’t go over well if she blew over any of the furniture or tables. That would be tacky.
After some amount of walking, trotting, and a lot of bouncing in excitement from Plum Pudding, the two of them arrived at an orchard of plum trees. Tikbalang had passed through here a few times, since she couldn’t go directly through the town, she went around, and the orchard was on the north side. It was large, and covered a lot of acreage, but it wasn’t the biggest orchard she had ever seen. She wasn’t sure what the biggest orchard she had seen was, but she knew this wasn’t it.
Today, however, the orchard was not a place of business, and was a place of decoration and celebration. Tikbalang smiled at the ribbons, flowers, tables, chairs, and ponies that dotted the area. There was a small stage set up where she assumed the two ponies would be wed, and seats set up nearby where the rest could watch. A lot of ponies were already seated, waiting for the main event.
Plum Pudding was accosted as soon as he arrived by five mares, one of whom was older than the rest.
“Plum where have you been? It’s your day, and you’re missing, come quickly!”
As he was dragged off, he looked around for what Tikbalang assumed must be her, and gave a little wave. Tikbalang stood at the edge of the crowd and waited for a few minutes, before she saw ponies crowding around the podium. She moved closer, a gentle breeze accompanying her hoofsteps.
“Mares and gentlecolts! We are gathered here today…”
Tikbalang stopped listening and looked around at the ponies gathered for Plum Pudding’s wedding. There were a lot of them here, and she discerned that he must be rather well-liked. Most of the faces were smiling, and there were ponies of all ages. He was likely a hard worker, being in charge of an entire orchard. The only orchard she knew of around the town. The decorations and food weren’t cheap either. Nor was his suit. Now where was his special somepony?
Tikbalang waited as the pony droned on and on and family and love, until he mentioned Plum Pudding himself. Off to one side, from behind a screen, Plum Pudding walked out to stand on the podium in front of the judge. He was looking rather dapper, having had himself cleaned up by the five mares who nabbed him. Tikbalang followed his gaze as he looked to another screen off on the other side of the area.
From behind it came Plum Pudding’s special somepony, dressed in a flowing gown of white and gold. Her mane was done up in a beautiful yet solemn bun, and decorated with golden chains and trinkets. She was led by a stallion Tikbalang assumed was her father, and trailed by two foals of different ages that she guessed were younger sisters. Tikbalang couldn’t help herself and moved closer, the gentle breeze of her passing causing the mare’s dress to flutter. Plum Pudding smiled wide as he saw it, but he stayed put, waiting for her to arrive next to him on the podium.
Tikbalang stood close to the mare and looked her over as the wedding proceeded. She felt a small surge of jealousy of the beautiful mare, dressed in her fine dress, and her mane styled, meeting her special somepony to get married and live happily ever after. It was a beautiful moment she could not properly take part in. She was happy for Plum Pudding and his wife, but sad that she could not congratulate him properly.
When the two ponies kissed to seal their marriage, the audience erupted in cheers and applause. Tikbalang applauded along with them, but avoided shouting. She didn’t want to blow everypony away by accident. The cake was cut, the two were congratulated time and again by ponies around them. Food was served, drinks were poured, and dancing was performed by everypony in a raucous and festive celebration.
Tikbalang stayed and watched, staring with envy at the two newlyweds. She’d had something like that, once upon a time. She was sure of it, but it was long lost.
Tikbalang decided she had had enough and walked closer to Plum Pudding and his wife. “Congratulations, Plum. Enjoy your honeymoon.”
Plum Pudding felt the breeze and smiled. He stopped dancing to wave in no particular direction, then turned back to his wife.
Tikbalang walked out of the orchard, then broke into a gallop when she was clear of the delicate decorations. She sped through the forest, blowing past trees and leaping over bushes, just running for the sake of running. She traveled through the forest a long way, uncaring of time and distance. She couldn’t exhaust herself, but she tried. After some time, she turned back toward her home, knowing instinctively where it was, and began walking, the turbulent feelings inside her spent.
When she arrived, she was surprised to see Plum Pudding there, working on her home. She always lost track of time, so it wasn’t unheard of, but she didn’t know how long she had been gone, and she thought he would still be on his honeymoon.
“Hello, Plum. Thank you for your work. How was your honeymoon?” she asked.
He turned to look at the source of the breeze and smiled. “Tikbalang! It has been a while! I was wondering where you had gone. My honeymoon was amazing, by the way. We traveled to Canterlot to see the castle, and stopped at Ponyville to see the Castle of Friendship. It was a wonderful trip,” Plum Pudding said.
Tikbalang smiled and sat down to watch him work. She didn’t know if she was jealous or not, but she had to admit she felt something when he talked about the time he spent with his wife. She didn’t want to admit to jealousy, but it was the most likely culprit. At least she had the time he spent repairing her house to herself. Unless his wife was a carpenter, it was unlikely he would bring her here.
Plum Pudding worked, and talked. He had finished filling in most of the holes on the first floor and had begun working on the second, which was a lot of progress for the time she must have been gone. The windows were still broken, but he promised to get those fixed soon. When he left, she watched him go and shut the door behind him, then walked to look at the patches he had placed in her home. It was excellent work, and the stain he had picked out was a near-perfect match. She ran a hoof along the new wood and sighed, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction upon looking at it. She couldn’t wait for him to come by again.
The next time he came, as promised, he repaired the windows. He wanted to protect the house from the elements, and the floors and windows were the most logical to that goal. He broke a pane of glass on the first trip and had to put that off for next time, and he had the wrong wood for another one, but he left it in until he could make a new frame for it. Over the next weeks, his progress slowed, until one day he showed up, galloping in an autumn rain to yell at the windows of her home.
“Tikbalang! My wife is pregnant! I’m going to be a father! Woohoooo!” He danced in front of her house for a few minutes, cheering and whooping before he ran back home.
Tikbalang watched him dance, but could not bring herself to congratulate him. She knew in that moment that she was, indeed, jealous.
Tikbalang didn’t see him again for a long time. The rain fell, then the leaves, then the snow, then more rain. Seasons passed without Plum coming back to work on her house. She did notice the passage of time, and she even counted the days. She was acutely aware of time, much to her annoyance. She didn’t mind its passage, but it was strange to her that she could keep track so well now.
It was two years before she saw Plum again, the summer vines climbing the walls of her house passing from a lively green to a solemn and darker one for autumn. He came not with his cart this time, but a strange package on his back, and he walked with slow and heavy steps. His beard was long, his hat was frayed, and his clothes unwashed. She went to open the door and greet him.
He watched the door open of its own accord and looked at her with sunken and unhappy eyes. He pulled the bundle off his back and cradled it in his hooves. “Tikbalang, I am sorry once again. In my foolish happiness I was blinded to the promises I had made to you as thanks for blessing my life. I forgot to fulfill my promise, and as punishment, you have taken my wife from me.” There was no malice in his voice, just a deep sadness. “I refused to come back after I realized what had happened, and for the past year I have sat blaming you for her loss. But it was never you. I made a promise, and I broke that promise.”
He held out the bundle, and Tikbalang could see that inside it was a sleeping foal, similar in colour to its father.
“I want you to meet my son, Glory Seed. I will come back, Tikbalang. I will finish what I started. I am sorry,” Plum Pudding said.
Tikbalang looked down at the foal in his hooves, and sighed. “I accept your apology.”
Tikbalang didn’t think he had anything to apologize for. He had a wife and a foal on the way. She wasn’t mad at him for forgetting her. In his position, she might have done the very same thing. She was a little upset that he thought she was the one who had punished him for his transgression, but there wasn’t anything she could say that he would understand. Her acceptance of his apology was what he had come seeking, and so she gave it freely.
Plum pulled his son back to his breast after he felt her speak, and hugged him close. He looked up at Tikbalang’s house, his eyes flickering over it and making assessments of where his neglect had left him. The windows were still intact, but the finish on the outside was even worse than it had been and the overhang on the porch was falling apart. It was only a little worse than it had been, but he still had a lot of work to do. Plum Pudding nodded to Tikbalang, then placed his son on his back, turned around, and walked away.
Tikbalang saw Plum Pudding coming as soon as the sun was up the very next day. He had his cart, and he walked right up to the door. She opened the door for him and he walked in without a word. He worked through the day, fixing rooms on the inside of the house. He even brought the correct wood for the window he had made a mistake on two years ago. When the day ended, he had made a good amount of headway on the house. He was catching up on maintenance with as much haste as he could muster.
As he left, he turned to the front door and bowed deep. “Thank you, Tikbalang. I will make this right.”
“I believe you,” she said in response.
He left without saying anything more.
He came back the week after that, worked hard and in solemn silence, and left with a quiet goodbye. The week after that he showed up, worked, and left. The week after that, he brought a small bouquet of flowers and offered it to her in addition to the work he was doing.
Tikbalang noticed that he had forgotten to remove the note placed in it with his name on it. It was from a mare named Angel Food asking him if he would like to come to dinner at her place. Not very subtle, but a little bit flattering. Mind you, Tikbalang did not have the loss of her special somepony still fresh in her mind, so she couldn’t blame Plum for not wanting to go.
She watched him work, sitting nearby as he hammered, sawed, sanded, and stained. He was throwing himself into his work with a fervor that was a little intense. Trying not to think, Tikbalang thought. When he left that day he was tired, sweaty, and silent, leaving without even a goodbye.
He didn’t come by again for another month after that, and only showed up for half a day.
“The harvest is happening, Tikbalang. I will be gone for a month or two as we get that taken care of, then I will come by, weather permitting,” Plum Pudding said. “Winter is upon us soon, and it will be difficult for me to come by, but I will make the attempt. If I do not show, it will happen in spring. Please forgive me.” He bowed deep at her front porch.
“I do not mind. Take all the time you need,” Tikbalang said.
He straightened up, his mouth a tight line, and nodded. He turned and left, cart rattling along behind him. As he left, Tikbalang shook her head. He was working himself too hard, and he wasn’t taking care of himself. It was a delicate position he was in, and she understood, but he needed a reason to keep himself together. She didn’t know how to tell him, though.
Plum Pudding didn’t manage to come in fall, as the snows fell early, and the heavy drifts kept the town locked in on itself. Coming all the way out to her house would have been difficult and foolish for a lone pony, so she waited, counting the days.
It was odd that she recognized time was passing. She remembered passing the winter months here in a similar manner, a long time ago.
She stopped, alarmed at the thought.
She remembered.
She did. It was a clear memory, floating in isolation among the rest of her thoughts. Winter months spent playing in the snow, sledding down the hill nearby. She would drag the sled back up with her magic when she was older, horn alight with weak magic as she struggled back up the hill.
Magic?
She brought a hoof up to her forehead, and sure enough, there was a horn protruding from her head.
She was a unicorn.
She looked down at herself, and for the first time in a long time, actually looked and recognized herself. She had hooves. She was wearing elegant shoes and socks that looked expensive. Not the kind you’d expect a pony to wear out in the middle of a forest. On her body was a simple loose garment tied at the middle with a sash. She pressed a hoof against her face and head and found a circlet of some kind with what felt like a gemstone in the center.
She had really noticed herself for the first time in what must have been years. How long had she been here? Why had she been here? Why didn’t she ever need to eat, drink, or sleep? Why was she living in the forest in the first place? What was her name!?
Tikbalang fretted over the realization that she was a pony, or had been a pony at one time, who lived here for a reason. Try as she might, she could not bring to mind any further information about herself, or her reasons for living here. It haunted her all through the winter months.
When spring arrived, Tikbalang had had far too many months to ponder herself and her predicament. Despite having nothing but time, she could not remember any further details about her life. She was also starting to feel a bit lonely. The emptiness of her house was much more pronounced now that she had a regular guest like Plum Pudding coming around regularly.
She finally saw him coming up the road a few weeks into spring, and was surprised to see a foal trotting along beside his cart. He halted at his usual spot, walked forward to the edge of the porch, and bowed. The foal beside him tried to copy him, but couldn’t hold the bow and fell on his face. Tikbalang chuckled to herself, and went to open the door for him.
As the door opened of its own accord, the foal’s eyes went wide. “Wooooow!”
“That is Tikbalang, Glory. I told you about her,” Plum Pudding said.
“Ti’blong!” The foal tried to imitate his father, with limited success.
Tikbalang put a hoof to her mouth and chuckled. She stepped out the door and walked down the steps to greet the two ponies.
“Welcome back, Plum,” she said. “And welcome to your son. Glory Seed, yes?”
Plum pudding smiled at the feel of the breeze, but his son looked directly at her and nodded.
“Gory See!” The foal pointed at himself with a hoof.
Tikbalang leaned down to get a better look at him, and his eyes followed hers as she crouched down in front of him. She scrunched her muzzle in thought as she stared. He scrunched his back, eyes still staying with hers. She moved her head to the side, and he followed. She raised a hoof, and he raised a hoof.
Plum Pudding had been pulling tools out of the cart, but he stopped when he saw his son waving his head in strange ways.
“What are you doing there, Glory?” he asked.
“Mare!” the colt exclaimed.
Plum Pudding looked about, but his confusion indicated he had seen nothing. “Where?”
“Here!” The colt pointed at Tikbalang, and she straightened up in surprise.
“Oh. Yes, this is Tikbalang’s house,” Plum Pudding said. “I know she’s here too. I can feel her breath sometimes.” He picked up some lumber and his tools and walked toward the house. “Come on, Glory, it’s time to start working.”
The colt looked away from Tikbalang to his father, then back again. He waved a hoof at her and followed his father inside, leaving Tikbalang outside. She stood there for a moment, processing what the colt had said and the way he had behaved. Had he really seen her? Foals were considered to have much more sensitivity to strange things than adult ponies, but she couldn’t be sure. She was going to test it.
Tikbalang followed them inside and shut the door behind her. She walked behind the ponies as they traveled through the house to the room Plum Pudding was going to work on. Plum got to work, and his son pottered about, expressing intense interest in certain planks of wood and balls of dust. Tikbalang crept closer to him, her hooves never making a noise on the wooden floor, but he still turned to look up at her. He smiled and blew a bubble of snot out of his nose, the goo dripping down his muzzle. Tikbalang smiled back, and the colt wandered around the room some more, his attention on her having already waned.
She followed him as he wandered about, sometimes he’d pick up some piece of detritus and show it to her. She would smile and nod, and that seemed to satisfy him. Then he would put it down and move on the next amazing and interesting piece of something lying about. She was so engrossed in the foal’s ability to see her, she didn’t notice the foal had wandered to the stairs.
Undaunted, the foal began climbing the stairs with some difficulty. He wasn’t going to let a few difficult steps stop him from scaling this obstacle however, and kept gamely climbing upward.
Tikbalang thought about rushing off to fetch Plum Pudding, but that would leave the foal unattended. What if he fell? She realized the moment she had the thought that her hooves went through ponies when she tried to touch them. Her being here was as useful as nopony being here.
“Plum! Your son is in a dangerous place!” she called.
As usual when she spoke, her voice created a wind. This time it was inside the house, and her breath rattled the floorboards and pushed the little colt to the side. He stumbled, lost his hoofing, and tilted backward. Out of reflex, Tikbalang extended her hooves to catch him, realizing as she moved that the poor thing was going to go right through and hit his head on the steps.
She felt a weight on her hooves and opened her eyes. She wasn’t aware she had closed them, but there, in her hooves, sat a tiny pony, nestled halfway on each hoof, pulling himself to a sitting position.
Plum Pudding came rushing out of the room he was working in. He was in a panic, looking for his son, and found him soon after, sitting comfortably at the bottom of the stairs. Plum grabbed him before he could start climbing again.
“Oh, thank you Tikbalang. I didn’t realize he had gotten so far away from me. I appreciate you keeping an eye on him,” Plum Pudding said. “Please do let me know the moment it happens if it happens again.”
Tikbalang was once again dumbfounded. She had caught the colt with her own two hooves. The hooves that went through most other ponies. She swiped a hoof at Plum Pudding, but it passed through him as it usually did. It was just the foal that she could touch. She smiled to herself. Something good was happening to her.
Tikbalang watched the colt as Plum worked, up until he left that day. Glory was tired from his day full of exploring new things, and lay sleeping on his father’s back as the cart disappeared into the woods. Tikbalang waved, mostly to Glory Seed since he was the only pony who could see her, but the colt did not open his eyes. She stepped back inside her home and shut the door, and busied herself with looking about at the changes made to her house while she waited for the next visit.
The next week, Plum Pudding came back without his son, much to Tikbalang’s dismay. He greeted her, came inside, and began his work without much to say. Tikbalang followed him and watched, but she missed seeing the little colt. He could see her, and that was new and exciting.
“Where is your son?” Tikbalang asked.
The wind brushed over Plum Pudding and he turned around. “Hm? What is it Tikbalang?”
“Your son, I wish to see him again,” she said.
He stared in confusion, only able to feel her breath and not hear her words. “I’m sorry Tikbalang, I don’t understand.”
“Your son! I want to see him!” Tikbalang said.
The wind rattled the windows, trapped inside the small building as it was, it shook Plum Pudding on his hooves.
“I don’t understand! What’s different? Uhh… Uhhh… My son isn’t here?” Plum Pudding said. “You want my son?”
“Yes.” Tikbalang said.
Plum Pudding looked confused and wary, not sure why his son would be so important, but he agreed. “I’ll bring my son next time. His aunts and grandmother weren’t available to watch him last week, which is why he accompanied me. But if you want him, you will have him. You’re not going to hurt him are you?”
Tikbalang gave him a disappointed look she wished he could see. “No.”
He nodded to himself and turned back to his work, satisfied with the breeze of an answer.
The next week saw Plum Pudding return with Glory Seed. The colt looked healthier than the last time, and was following his father, stopping to investigate bushes, then dashing to catch up again. Tikbalang watched him with amusement, and opened the door to greet them when the cart reached the front porch.
“Good day to you, Plum and Glory,” Tikbalang said.
Plum Pudding bowed and his son followed suit. The colt managed the bow a little better this time, but he still moved as though not fully accustomed to his body. Tikbalang stepped in front of the colt and leaned down to look at him. He stood back up, eyes focused on her, then up to her horn.
“Yu’corn!” The colt poked his own forehead, then blew a raspberry and made an explosion noise with his mouth.
“Mr. Lights won’t be coming out here until the house is finished, Glory. That could be some years yet,” Plum Pudding said.
Tikbalang assumed there was some unicorn in town the colt saw that her horn reminded him of. She didn’t know about the population of the town, but if her horn reminded him of one specific unicorn, there weren’t very many that he saw on a regular basis.
She had other plans though. She wanted to see if she could pick him up. She thought about waiting until Plum Pudding wasn’t nearby, but she couldn’t wait! This was far too exciting! She reached out with her forehooves, grasped the colt under his, and lifted him off the ground. He didn’t fight back, and he didn’t panic. He just let her lift him up. He came up off the ground, giggling the whole while, and she lifted him up, and up, and up, over her head. Her face was split in a wide smile. The colt trusting her not to drop him. If she could have cried, she would have.
After she had held him for a moment, she lowered him back down to the ground, placing him on his hooves. He bounced and ran in small circles, poking at her and laughing the whole while. She looked over at Plum and saw him standing there watching with a look of intense relief on his face. If she had to guess, he was probably worried she was planning something awful for his colt. To him, she was an unknowable and enigmatic spirit, capricious and subject to whimsical changes in mood. To his son, she was just another pony.
She stepped closer to Plum and tried to place a hoof on his withers to comfort him. It passed through and she sighed. Still only the foal, but that would hopefully change in the future.
“Your son is safe with me,” she said. “Fear not.”
He nodded at the feel of her voice, and went back to pulling together his tools and supplies.
She left him to his work and went back to following Glory about the yard. Plum Pudding accepted that she was watching over him, and had the capacity to keep him safe, and went inside, leaving her and Glory to themselves. True to her word, she kept him safe, lifting him away from brambles and other dangerous plants. Holding him up to look at butterflies and other interesting bugs. Smiling as he ate a few she didn’t catch soon enough, and helping him climb trees.
By the time the day was over, Glory was tired, and she held him as he slept until his father was done his work. She carried him back to the cart and laid him on his father’s back, where he curled up into Plum’s long mane.
“Thank you, Tikbalang. I am sorry I doubted your intentions,” Plum Pudding said.
“It is fine. I understand. Thank you for bringing him,” Tikbalang said.
Plum Pudding nodded, turned away, and pulled his cart toward home, leaving Tikbalang once again to herself.
The summer passed in a blur for Tikbalang. Plum Pudding kept bringing his son to work on her house with him, and she took care of the colt while he worked. She enjoyed her time being able to touch somepony else, and have attention directed at her instead of in her general direction. Plum Pudding made slow but steady progress on the downstairs portion of the house, and by the time summer was over, the bottom floor was nearly complete.
Fall was the harvest, and Plum Pudding couldn’t come to visit as often, but when he did come, he still brought his son. The foal was growing up quite quickly, although his weight did not make much of a difference to Tikbalang. Glory Seed was getting more verbose as time passed, and by the time they were on the cusp of winter he was stringing together awkward sentences as quick as you please.
Late in fall, Plum Pudding had said this day would be the last visit of the year, and Tikbalang watched the two of them arrive filled with melancholy. It was a delight to see them, but she didn’t relish having to watch them go, leaving her alone for the winter. She was waiting outside for them as they pulled up, the front door already open, and Glory galloped up to meet her.
“Tikbalang! Up!” the colt jumped in her direction.
Tikbalang caught her and hugged him, then rubbed his mane. “How are you today, Glory?”
Glory giggled at the breeze of her voice, and Plum Pudding watched them play with a smile on his face.
“If all goes well today Tikbalang, I should have the bottom floor complete. Then I can work on the upstairs come spring,” Plum Pudding said. “The walls are still holding, but I’ll assess the damage after winter is over. I may need to refinish them, but I think I can salvage most of it.”
“That will be fine, Plum. Thank you,” Tikbalang said.
He smiled and went inside, leaving Glory and her to play. The colt never tired of the wilderness around her home, and he had made up many games for them to play around it. Royal Guards. Pegasi. Power Ponies. Griffon invasion. Ghosts and goblins. In that last one she was always told to be the ghost. That bothered her for some reason she felt she should really understand but didn’t.
He was also fascinated by the well out back, because it was covered in brambles and had a heavy lid on it. He couldn’t lift the lid off, but he kept crawling into the brambles and using it as a hiding place, much to her frustration.
Today, Glory wanted to play Power Ponies, and so they spent the day running about and pretending to fight bad guys. Glory wanted to be Fili-second today, and was rushing about hither and thither. He told Tikbalang she had to be the Masked Matterhorn, so she pointed her horn at things and he was satisfied with that. She couldn’t cast any magic, and she felt like that should bother her as well, but it didn’t. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about winter, though. There was going to be nothing but time for introspection during the cold months.
Glory got tuckered out rather fast because of all the constant running to and fro he was doing, and as the afternoon went on, he got tired enough to ask her to pick him up. She obliged, and cradled him to her breast as he fell asleep. She carried him inside the house to where Plum Pudding was putting the finishing touches on the final portion of one of the walls.
“Your son has exhausted himself, Plum. He will not be troublesome on your way home,” Tikbalang said.
Plum Pudding turned around in alarm, his eyes, whipping about, until they settled on Glory. He didn’t reach for him, but he looked at his son, then up at Tikbalang’s eyes directly.
“Tikbalang?” Plum looked her up and down.
Tikbalang didn’t quite understand at first, but she reached out with a hoof and Plum followed it, but didn’t move. She touched her hoof to his cheek, and she actually felt it! She smiled and caressed his face, moving her hoof up and down, playing with his lips, and batting at his ears with foalish glee.
“Hello Plum,” Tikbalang said.
He didn’t react to her voice, and there was no breeze this time when she spoke. He watched her lips move, and nodded after she said it.
“Can you still not hear me?” she said.
He nodded again and she frowned. He still couldn’t hear her, but he could see her, judging from the way his eyes moved. She held his son out to him, then stood up and spun in a circle, showing herself off to him. He watched, and she got a sense of satisfaction from it, then she reached out to take Glory back. She pointed at the wall, and although he was still a little dumbfounded, he finished hammering the wood into place.
Once Plum was done with the wall, he turned back to Tikbalang and looked at her holding his son. He opened his mouth, failed to say anything, then opened it again.
“I was not expecting you to be a normal mare, Tikbalang. My whole life I was expecting you to be some mythical beast of legend; terrifying, otherworldly, and maybe a little cruel,” Plum said. “You are… much more beautiful than I envisioned.”
Tikbalang smiled at him. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but your son is tired, and you have finished your work, you should head home.” She pointed at his son, and the door. He got the idea, and packed his things up, then hitched himself to the cart.
“I will see you in spring, Tikbalang. I wish you the best,” Plum said.
Winter came, the snow fell, and Tikbalang was alone in her house. It was cold, though she could not feel it, and it was dark, though it did not bother her. During the time she had alone, she wandered through the repaired first floor of her home, and she admired the work that had been done. It had been decades since she had last seen her home in good condition, and she had spent most of her time before Plum arrived wondering when it would finally collapse. She had put forth her effort in keeping her own room protected from the elements, but it was an upstairs room, and if the foundation gave way then the entire thing would be gone. Now she did not have that worry gnawing at her.
Tikbalang looked up the stairs at the hall leading to her room, and wondered why she had worked so hard to keep it intact. Was it memory? She knew it was her room, and that was nice, but she never slept. Never changed clothes. Never even spent any time in it. That one time Plum had gone inside to inspect it was the first and only time she had gone in since… since…
Since when?
Why did she avoid it so much?
Tikbalang stared at the hall for a time, then climbed the stairs and went down to look at the door to her room. She didn’t have to worry about it collapsing anymore. She windows were intact, the door was solid, and the walls were all still free of rot and vermin. She could relax her efforts on keeping it intact.
Tikbalang felt some unknown exertion fall away from her, and realized intstinctively that she had been expending all her unicorn magic to keep her room safe. She hadn’t even been aware of it! How long had it been? Years? Decades?
Tikbalang was glad she didn’t have to worry anymore, but she had come up here for a reason. She reached out a hoof, and pushed open the door to her room. Dust had settled, but there wasn’t much of it, as her spell had been keeping everything out of the room that might accidentally spill, crawl, drip, or squeeze its way in. No bugs, mice, rats, water, snow, pollen, or anything else had been able to come in. Nothing except Plum Pudding that one time several years ago. Since he had begun repairs, he had dutifully stayed away from her room. Leaving it untouched.
She wandered about, following the same path he had taken. She looked at the walls, stared out the windows, opened the closets to peruse the clothing.
She smiled at the clothes, wondering when she might decide to wear them again. She’d been wearing the same thing for what seemed like forever, and she didn’t know why. She pulled an outfit down, held it over her back with her hooves, then realized she had magic now! She didn’t need to use her hooves! She lit her horn and lifted several outfits out of the closet, laughing with glee at the ability to move things without touching them. She spun the outfits around her, looking them over, and selected one. It was a frilly black gown, with gold fringes. She held it up, and realized she couldn’t get a good look. She needed a mirror.
Tikbalang turned to the full-length mirror in her room, and felt a chilly feeling of dread run through her. Plum Pudding had looked into that mirror and had seen something that scared him so many years ago. What had he seen? She had looked afterward and seen nothing. Not even herself. She didn’t know why, and it hadn’t bothered her at the time, but it bothered her now. Why was that?
Tikbalang approached the mirror with trepidation, her magic holding the dress next to her. She stepped closer, coming at it sidelong, and with a final quick movement, slipped in front of it.
There was nothing. Nothing except her black dress floating next to where she should have been.
Why was she scared of this? Was she scared of what she would see of herself, or was she scared of the idea that Plum Pudding had seen something inside it? Plum’s reaction had been worrisome, but she shouldn’t worry about something that didn’t seem to be there, should she?
Tikbalang reached out a hoof, her limb see-through and wispy as it always had been. She touched the mirror, running her hoof along its surface. It was clean, untouched by any element that might have sullied its pristine surface, including a pony that would look in it. It felt smooth, and was not any more remarkable than any other surface in the house.
Her limb was obvious in her vision, the transparent hoof, sock, and shoe all acted normally for her when she was touching her house, or when touching Glory Seed. It had felt normal when she had finally touched Plum Pudding, but something was off.
She shouldn’t be see-through, and she shouldn’t have problems touching anything. That wasn’t normal was it?
No, it wasn’t. ‘Normal’ would be ponies like Plum Pudding and Glory Seed. Normal was opaque flesh, flush with life and warmth. Weakness to cold, and hunger, and thirst. Normal was being subject to the ravages of time, the elements, and emotions.
She wasn’t normal.
What was she?
Other ponies were lively, cheerful, lusty, and full of… life.
Oh.
Oh no.
Tikbalang dropped the dress as her reflection appeared in the mirror. Her cheeks were sunken, her skin like parchment. Her eyes were dark circles disappearing into her skull. Her teeth were exposed around missing lips, and the rags she wore were in tatters hanging off naught more than bones.
She was dead.
Conversations about death
Tikbalang screamed.
It was loud, and horrible, and it shattered the windows and broke the mirror, sending cracks through the glass in front of her, pieces of it dropping to the floor. Her wail echoed out across the landscape, filtering through the trees. She continued screaming in anguish and fear. She wailed all through the day. She didn’t stop until she heard the front door opening and a voice called out to her.
“Tikbalang? What has happened?” Plum Pudding asked.
Tikbalang came out of her room, the door creaking as she stumbled out to stand at the top of the stairs. Plum Pudding saw her and recoiled, his hind hooves stumbling out of the door.
“I’m dead! I’ve been dead! For years! Did you know? Have you known?” Tikbalang yelled.
Plum Pudding looked up at the angry visage above him. Her sunken eyes bored into his, and he cringed at her words. He looked terrified, but he appeared to hear her, as every question made him wince.
“Tikbalang, I, uh, I can hear you, finally. And yes. I assumed you were. I thought you knew,” he said.
“Thought I knew? Did you think I chose to be dead, then just hung about in my decaying house for Celestia knows how long?” Tikbalang shouted.
“I thought you were a restless spirit, like the tales talk about. A spirit who was confused because the pony died of unfortunate causes. A disease, or something,” he said. “That would explain your room and why it was so immaculate. When you passed, they were afraid of the contagion spreading because they didn’t know.”
Tikbalang’s anger died down somewhat, the wind blown out of her sails. She died of… something, and her things were left behind. Her family abandoned the house to its fate, and her body to… wherever.
“Where is my body?”
“Tikbalang?”
“My body. My corpse. My bones. Anything! Where was I laid to rest?”
Plum Pudding shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t found it anywhere in the house, and it isn’t in your room. I don’t think they’d have dumped it down the well, but that’s possible. I can’t check until spring, though. It’s frozen right now and buried under snow.”
“You’re… you’re right. I’m sorry. It can wait. It’s not like I’m ‘dying’ or anything.” Tikbalang gave a rueful chuckle.
Plum Pudding started to laugh, but coughed to cover it up. “I am sorry Tikbalang. I did not intentionally leave you in the dark about your condition. My son doesn’t know you’re dead, and you didn’t hurt him, so I didn’t worry about it. To me you were a benevolent spirit, not a confused ghost.”
“Your son… he has been the highlight of my dead life from what I can remember of it. My memory has been coming back in these past few years, and it has been… rough,” Tikbalang said. “I don’t know what to make of it, and I don’t know what to do with myself, either. What does a ghost do? What goals do I make? What do I even have to look forward to?”
“I cannot speak for you, but I think we should take it one step at a time. ‘Looking too far forward makes a pony miss what’s under their hooves’ as my Dad always said,” Plum Pudding said. “I’ll fix your windows, and then in spring we can investigate the well. Maybe we’ll find your body, maybe we won’t, but until we’ve reached that point, you should just relax as best you’re able. You’ve lasted this long haven’t you?”
“I have. You’re right again. I will wait. Thank you for coming to check on me,” Tikbalang said.
“Well… the rest of the townsfolk hear the scream too, and it sounded ominous. The only thing out in this direction that I knew might make a sound like that would be you, so I left my son with my family and came out as soon as I could,” Plum Pudding said.
“Well I thank you,” Tikbalang said.
The two were quiet for a little bit until Tikbalang broke the silence.
“Have I always looked like… this?” Tikbalang motioned to herself, bony, emaciated, with dark sunken eyes, wispy hair and covered in rags.
Plum Pudding nodded. “It’s what I saw in the mirror years ago. I was scared, but you helped me find my sister, so I knew you weren’t actively malicious, and when given incentive, could even be beneficial. Glory Seed doesn’t know ponies aren’t supposed to look like bones and be missing their eyes. To him you’re normal, and just a different shape. Like a Pegasus or unicorn,” Plum said.
“Well, I am a unicorn,” Tikbalang said. “Oh! Speaking of which, I can use magic again! I was keeping my room protected with all my magic, and I just wasn’t aware of it, like so many things in my un-life.”
“Oh? That’s great! Can you”—he motioned to the shattered glass—“fix the broken windows, maybe? Glass is expensive.”
“Oh! Maybe. I’ll try.”
Tikbalang looked at the nearest broken window, and all the glass laying on the floor. She lit up her horn and picked them up, turning them this way and that, and clinking a few pieces together. She shook her head and had to give up.
“I don’t know how to do that. I’ll try to figure it out during winter. I have time,” she said.
“I’ll come back with some covers for the windows so the snow doesn’t come in. I can probably make the trip tomorrow,” Plum said.
“Will you… will you bring your son? I would like to talk with him, now that you can hear me,” Tikbalang said.
“I can do that, yes,” Plum said. “Will you be fine until then?”
She nodded. “I have it out of my system. I just need to get used to it emotionally. I’m not used to having emotions. I kind of just… existed, before now,”
“I cannot even begin to imagine that. We can talk more tomorrow, Tikbalang, I must get home before night falls and the winds get colder,” Plum said.
“Of course. Thank you again for coming, Plum,” Tikbalang said.
“You’re welcome, Tikbalang,” he said.
Plum stepped out the door, and trotted into the snow, crawling through the drifts into the forest. Tikbalang shut the door and looked back at her poor house. She had shattered every pane of glass in the entire place with her unholy scream, undoing a good portion of Plum’s hard work. He had put his heart and soul into fixing the place, and now the snow was falling in the open windows. She felt awful.
Feeling awful was better than feeling nothing, she supposed. She had been barely more than an animal before, and now she was remorseful, sad, angry, and a little bit happy that she had somepony she could count on to check on her. It’s not like she even needed it. It’s not like she could die again. How would anypony even manage that? She chuckled at the thought.
Tikbalang looked at the windows, and thought about the spell she had used to protect her room from the elements. She could manage a spell like that for each window in the house. Much less than an entire six sides of a room, and she would be able to end it once Plum brought covers for them tomorrow.
Tikbalang lit her horn and concentrated on the windows in the house. She knew the house like the rear of her hoof, so she knew where, and how many windows there were. She remembered the spell for her room not as she had cast it, but as she had removed it, and placed that spell on the windows, making them impervious to the elements.
She went through the house once to check all of them, and clean up a bit of the snow that had fallen in. She didn’t feel it was fair to leave all the work to Plum. He’d already done so much for her, and she had created this mess herself.
Once the windows were sealed and the floors cleaned of snow and glass, Tikbalang went back up to her room to clean up the glass of her mirror. She kept all the glass safe, even pulling in the bits that had fallen outside, just in case she could manage to use magic to fix them. She picked up the mirror shards and placed them in a drawer of her vanity.
She looked at herself in the mirror one more time. She tried to smile, but it lacked some of the effect it should have without proper lips. She shouldn’t be able to speak normally without them, but then, she didn’t have lungs. Or vocal cords. Or a tongue. Or anything, really. Tikbalang shook her head and left. Staying in her room wasn’t doing her any good, and she needed to survive another day, then the entire winter.
Tikbalang stepped outside, making sure to close the door behind her, and trod along the upper crust of the snow. She followed Plum’s hoofprints to the bottom of the hill where they disappeared into the forest. She sat down on top of the snow and waited. She was aware of the passing time, but she tried her best not to think, and just waited.
Morning came, and it was blustery and stormy by the time the sun rose. The snow was coming down thick, and it was blinding. Tikbalang was worried, though. If the snow was this thick, it might be dangerous for Plum and Glory to come visit, and that might mean they wouldn’t visit at all! She didn’t know what to do. She could go to the town herself, but she hadn’t been able to enter the last time, and she didn’t know where in town Plum lived anyway. She wasn’t even certain of the path through the forest Plum took to get to her house, so she might miss them on the road.
Stuck on what she should do, Tikbalang stayed put and waited. Snow piled up around her, but she was rewarded when she saw a pony plowing through the snow, pulling behind him a sled with a bunch of sacks on it, topped by a colt. Tikbalang stood up and went out to meet them.
When Glory saw her approach, he stood up and jumped off the sled.
“Catch meee!” he yelled.
Tikbalang was startled, and reached out with her hooves, catching the bundled-up colt in her forehooves. The impact knocked her onto her flank, and she sat there on top of the snow, holding the foal.
“Hello Glory,” Tikbalang said.
Glory Seed looked up at her in surprise, eyes wide. “Daddy! Mummy’s talking!”
Now it was Tikbalang’s turn to be surprised. She looked in shock at Glory, then looked at Plum, who gave her a shrug and a rueful smile. She didn’t know how to respond to that at all. She put Glory on her back and followed Plum in silence up the hill to her house. Once he had brought everything inside, she set Glory down.
“I need to speak with your father, Glory. Do you mind playing for a moment while we talk?” Tikbalang said.
“Okay!” Glory waddled off, wrapped up in his winter clothes.
Once Glory was out of sight, Tikbalang spun around and looked at Plum Pudding with a confused expression. “Why does he call me his ‘mummy’, and why are you okay with it?”
Plum Pudding just shrugged again. “He’s been doing that for a while now, I thought he’d have said it to you by now. Has he not?”
“No, he’s never called me his mother before. You don’t mind?”
“Not… really,” Plum sighed. “I mean, I miss my wife, of course, but Glory never knew her. She died in childbirth, and all he’s known is my sisters and my mother. You’re really the only mare besides them that he knows, so to him, you must be his mother since we see you every week.”
Tikbalang looked at Plum for a moment, then looked away, staring at nothing. “You know I didn’t kill her, right? I don’t have the ability to do that.”
Plum nodded. “I have figured that out in the years since, yes. I’m sorry if my blaming you caused you any grief.”
“No, I understand why you said what you said now. It’s been a while since I had proper emotions, but I understand,” Tikbalang said.
There was silence for a moment, until Plum broke it with a sigh. “I suppose I should get to work. We can’t be out all day in this weather. I wouldn’t have come, but I promised, and breaking promises to you seems to be bad for my well-being.”
“Oh psssh! It’s just random chance. I don’t have it out for you.” Tikbalang waved a hoof in dismissal.
“I would rather not risk it. Your house will be fixed, and I came out to ensure that it doesn’t fill with snow over winter,” Plum said.
“Well thank you. I’ll go find Glory and watch him while you do that,” Tikbalang said.
Tikbalang found Glory upstairs in her room, where she had left the door open. He had not been in here before as she always kept the door shut, and over summer they usually played outside. He had climbed inside her wardrobe and was thumping about among her clothes. He hadn’t yet noticed her, and Tikbalang had a thought.
Ghosts were usually assumed to be able to walk through walls and the like, yet she had never attempted to do so. She had thought she was alive, but something ‘else’ than a regular pony, but now that she knew she was a ghost, could she do that?
Her hoofsteps were silent as she sneaked around to the side of the wardrobe and pressed her snout up against it. It felt solid, but she concentrated on going through it, thinking of herself as being ephemeral and, well, a ghost. She was rewarded a moment later when she felt herself get lighter, and her nose passed into the wood, and out into the wardrobe, Where Glory was trying on her shoes.
“Boo!” she said as her face appeared inside.
Glory jumped and squealed in delight as he saw it was Tikbalang. “Hi Mummy! How is your head in the wall?”
“I can do that because I’m a ghost,” Tikbalang said.
“Can I do that? Am I a ghost?” Glory Seed asked.
“No, you’re definitely not a ghost. You’re a lively little colt who’s messing with my things,” Tikbalang said.
“Oh… is that bad?” Glory Seed asked.
Tikbalang pulled herself the rest of the way through the wall of the wardrobe and made herself solid, then she crowded up next to glory. “No, it isn’t. I can’t wear them anymore anyway.”
“Why not?” Glory Seed asked.
“Because I’m dead.”
“So?”
Tikbalang opened her mouth to respond, but then realized that he had a point. She could touch everything in her house, and interact with it all like she could when alive. Why couldn’t she dress up?
“You’re a clever little colt, aren’t you?” Tikbalang said. “I’ll try something on then. Pick something for me.”
Glory looked around at the outfits hanging above his head. He couldn’t see any of them very well, but the colours were there, even in the muted light of her snow-locked home. Glory pointed at one that was yellow and green. A summer dress, by the look of it. She almost declined when she realized she didn’t have to worry, because she was a ghost, and she didn’t get cold.
“That one!” Glory said.
“Well… alright. Let’s pull it out and get out of the wardrobe so I can try it on,” Tikbalang said.
She let go of the spell on the house now that Plum Pudding was fixing all the windows, and lifted the dress off its hook. She stepped out of the wardrobe light as a feather and walked over to the broken mirror. She took the dress off the hanger and held it up in front of herself, then turned to the side and held it up there as well. It would look odd, hanging from her bones, but Glory wanted to play dress-up, so she would do it.
“Turn around and look the other way while I put it on, Glory,” Tikbalang said.
“Why?” Glory asked.
“It’s polite for a colt to not look at a filly when she’s changing,” she said.
“Why?” He asked again.
“It is a way for the colt to silently say he respects her privacy,” she said.
“Ohhhh.” Glory Seed turned around and waited.
Tikbalang used her magic to pull the ghostly rags and old shoes off herself. Being made of… whatever she was made of, they dissipated into nothing once they left her form. She then slipped the dress on over her head, pulling her hooves out the holes, and slipping it over her flank and pulling her wispy tail out the hole. She used her magic to fasten the drawstring on the back, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Despite the dress sagging on her skeletal frame, she didn’t look that bad. It would have hugged her just fine if she had actual flesh, which was some small amount of comfort, and although she wasn’t sure what colour her fur had been when alive, the yellow and green wasn’t awful on her transparent grey self.
“Alright Glory, you can turn around now,” Tikbalang said.
Glory turned around to look, and she slowly turned in a circle so he could see. “Yaaay! You look pretty! Let’s go play outside!”
Tikbalang almost told him no, because the snow would ruin the dress, but it had been a long time since any of these clothes had been anywhere. If she wasn’t going to use them, who would? “Alright, let’s go.”
Tikbalang followed Glory down the stairs to the front door, and the two of them went outside. Tikbalang followed along as Glory swam through the piles of snow, while she walked along on top of them.
“How do you do that?” Glory asked.
“I’m a ghost, I don’t weigh anything at all,” She said.
His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Oh! That’s what my aunties say! They always tell me my Mummy’s a ghost!” He grinned like he’d just figured something obvious out.
“Well, uh, yes. That’s correct.” Tikbalang didn’t want to correct him. He was technically right anyway.
“How do you become a ghost? I want to walk on the snow like you,” Glory asked.
Tikbalang’s eyes widened in shock. This was not a good thread for the conversation to take. She didn’t want him getting any dangerous ideas. She sat down next to him on the snow pile and looked him straight in the eye.
“Glory, listen carefully,” she said. “Ponies only become ghosts when they die, and dying is bad. You don’t want to die. It hurts, and it’s unpleasant, and you can’t do all the fun things you like to do right now, nor can you eat any of the good foods you like. What’s your favourite food?”
Glory Seed thought for a moment. “I like to eat macaroni and cheese.”
“If you’re dead, you can’t eat it anymore. What’s your favourite game to play?” Tikbalang asked.
“I like playing tag,” Glory said.
“You won’t be able to touch anypony anymore, and they won’t be able to see you, so you can’t play that,” Tikbalang said.
“But I can touch and see you!” Glory protested.
Damn. He was right. “That’s… that’s because we’re—“ Tikbalang closed her eyes and apologized in silence for what she was about to say. “—family.”
“Ohhhh. So if I were to be a ghost, I would only be able to play with you, and never eat anything.” Glory Seed tapped his hoof against his chin in intense thought for a moment. “That’s not a good trade for walking on top of snow.”
“No, it isn’t. You’ll become a ghost when you’re older, but right now, you need to enjoy what you have. Like macaroni and cheese. Not to mention, you lose a lot of your skin and fur.” Tikbalang pointed to her face and her distinct lack of lips.
“Aw, it’s okay Mummy, you look very pretty without lips,” Glory said. “Besides, I can still play with you! Pick me up and walk on the snow!” Glory held out his hooves to her.
Tikbalang smiled and stood up. She lifted him out of the drifts with her magic and placed him on her back. His snow-covered hooves made a mess of her dress, but it wasn’t important. She had convinced him to stay alive, and that was far more important than a dress.
Tikbalang ran along the top of the snow drifts. She picked up speed until she was running at an unnatural pace through the forest nearby, whipping past trees as Glory laughed in delight on her back. They ran for a while, and played for a time, then went back inside to see how Plum Pudding was coming along with the repairs.
Plum had taken some time out of his work to start a small fire in the fireplace. It was the middle of winter, and the house was quite cold, so Tikbalang couldn’t blame him. She took Glory Seed off her back and placed him in front of the fire.
“I’ve covered all the windows. Not much snow should get inside during winter. If it does, I’ll just have to fix it come spring. You’ll try to fix the glass with your magic, yes?” Plum Pudding said.
She nodded. “I’ll do my best. I don’t know if it’s something I’ve ever done before, so I cannot promise much, but I’ll have all winter to study.”
“Thank you Tikbalang,” Plum said.
“No, thank you, Plum. You’ve put up with me for far longer than I expected somepony would treat a ghost,” Tikbalang said.
“Well, Glory Seed likes you very much, so it has not been one-sided at all,” Plum said.
“Oh, speaking of Glory.” Tikbalang pulled Plum Pudding away from the fireplace for a moment to whisper to him. “He expressed an interest in becoming a ghost today.” She put a hoof on his shoulder to calm him down. “I talked him out of it. I told him he couldn’t eat macaroni and cheese if he died. That seemed to convince him, but keep an eye on him okay?”
Plum Pudding nodded, and they both walked back to the fireplace to sit next to Glory Seed. They sat and stared at the fire for a bit, with Glory snuggling up to Tikbalang at first, but sadly, she wasn’t warm enough. He crawled under his father’s hooves and curled up. It wasn’t long before he was asleep.
“It is late. We should get going,” Plum said.
Tikbalang nodded, and used her magic to lift Glory up onto his father’s back.
“I like your dress, by the way,” Plum said.
“Thanks. Glory picked it out,” Tikbalang said.
“I will see you in spring, Tikbalang. Enjoy your winter,” Plum said.
“You as well, Plum. Goodbye.” Tikbalang shut the door, leaving her once again alone.
Tikbalang went back to the fire and watched as it burned itself out until just the coals were left. She walked back upstairs and pulled off the summer dress she was wearing, hanging it back up in the wardrobe. She spent some time looking through her selection of clothes, both in the closet and the wardrobe. She pulled out a few winter ensembles, trying them on and looking at herself in the mirror. None of them hung well over her emaciated body, but they looked nice. A lot of them looked expensive. Her life must have been rich before she died.
She pulled out a garment and stopped as her eyes fell upon it. It was a uniform, of that she was certain. It was an elaborate outfit, and very fancy. Exotic even, if she had to label it as anything. With small chains and clasps, and tiny silver bells along the fringes.
Tikbalang pulled the outfit out of her closet, and looked underneath it. She found four shoes that she recognized somehow as matching the dress, and she brought those out as well. She slipped on the dress, the many clasps and drawstrings causing her some trouble, but she managed to tighten it enough that it didn’t drag, even on her hollow frame. She then put the shoes on, and fastened them tight. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt a spark of something in her memory.
A song started playing in her head, and she knew there was a set of steps that went along with it. She started slow, tapping her hooves in time to a silent beat, and then spun around, stamping hard on the floor. Her shoes made a loud CLACK on the floor, and she kept going, speeding up her steps as she hummed the song to herself. She didn’t remember the words if there were any, but the tune itself was clear as a spring pond.
Tikbalang danced.
It felt freeing, and time passed her by. The song went on and on, and she wasn’t sure if it began again, or if it never stopped, but she danced. Maybe it was even a different song sometimes, but she didn’t know, nor did she care. Her hooves stamped the ground in an angry cadence, then tapped feather-light as she reached a quiet portion of the song. She stepped away the cold winter nights, and passed the chill winter days, dancing without end.
By the time she stopped, her shoes, which had been pristine and new when she put them on, were scuffed and worn. They weren’t broken, but they had seen an entire winter’s worth of dancing all at once after a period of disuse. Her dress was still in good condition, it didn’t have a real body to rub against, and was instead just shaken a lot. A couple bells had fallen off, but that was due to age more than activity.
Spring had arrived, and with it, then snows had almost fully melted. She realized she had spent her entire winter in a trance, and had not actually practiced trying to put the glass back together! Tikbalang pulled the pieces of mirror out of her vanity and held them up in front of her. She didn’t want to disappoint Plum Pudding if she could avoid it. He had already replaced the windows once, he shouldn’t have to do it again.
She looked at the glass, then tried to rearrange them in the mirror where the pieces belonged. Some of the shards were very small, and she didn’t know if they should go somewhere specific, or if she could fudge it somehow. She didn’t even know where to begin trying to fuse them back together. Should she heat them? That seemed dangerous. Maybe just imagine they were back together and they would do it themselves?
Tikbalang fussed with the glass, then decided to just blast them with magic and order them to put themselves back together. That sounded like how a spell to repair something might work. You imagine it, then tell the thing to do it, and ZAP, it would do it. Like turning something into a teacup.
Tikbalang imagined the mirror repaired, then cast the spell as she imagined it would go. The shards would find their places on their own, and fuse back together. To her surprise, it worked! The shards floated to their respective places and fit together like a puzzle, and stuck themselves back together, giving her a clean reflection of herself.
Now that she could see herself in the full mirror, she had to admit, then outfit looked really fetching. Even moreso than she had imagined when she had put it on. The shoes were delightful, and very exotic. The whole thing looked like something out of a fairy tale. She couldn’t wait to show Plum.
With her newfound knowledge of how the spell worked, Tikbalang went to fetch the glass where she had stored it, and repaired each window in the house she had broken with her scream. One by one the shards of glass placed themselves in the frames, filling out the windows with new, and very clean, glass.
When she was done, she nodded at the last, pleased that her house was once again proofed against the elements. She stacked up the covers next to the front door, and went outside. The snow wasn’t quite off the ground yet, so she just decided to try and make up a new dance while she waited for Plum and Glory to come by for the first time in the new year. She wouldn’t mind showing off her dancing skills. Maybe she had even been a dancer in her previous life, before illness had taken her life. Maybe she had danced for important patrons or dignitaries, which would explain the money that she must have had.
Tikbalang heard the appreciative stamping of hooves after a spin, and stopped dancing to see Plum Pudding and Glory Seed applauding from down at the bottom of the hill. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but there they were, applauding her dancing.
“Very nice, Tikbalang! Where did you learn to dance?” Plum asked.
She trotted down the hill to meet them. “I don’t remember, but I was going through my closet and found this, and the memories of dancing came back to me all at once.”
Glory Seed laughed at the jingling of her dress and grabbed at the silver bells that decorated it. “I like your dress, Mummy. It’s noisy.”
“Thank you, sweetie, I like it too,” Tikbalang said. “Plum, I managed to fix the windows, so they won’t be a problem. How was your winter?”
“Cold and snowy, as usual. The trains that pass by had an accident with one of their plows at one point, and we had to help dig them out, but it was uneventful with the exception of that scream in the middle of it. They still talk about that, by the way,” Plum said.
“You didn’t tell them what caused it?”
“Oh, Celestia no. Then they’d be all over your house and you, and who knows what that would lead to.”
“But don’t they already know you come out here to fix my house?”
“Yes, but they think it’s a pet project of mine. They don’t know there’s a spirit living in it.”
“Well I appreciate that,” Tikbalang stopped as she considered the implications of what he’d said. “Wait. Do they assume you’re going to live here when you’re done the repairs?”
“My family does, yes. But I’m not going to impose on you.”
“Oh…” Tikbalang thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
“I appreciate that, Tikbalang, but let’s wait until we’re done before we start making more promises. I have learned many lessons about making promises over the years. This last one has taken up a good portion of my life,” Plum said.
“Hah!” Tikbalang laughed. “That’s very true. Since before little glory here was born.” Tikbalang reached out and rubbed Glory Seed on the head.
They climbed up the hill and Plum Pudding got out his tools and supplies. He went inside to start working on the upstairs portion while Tikbalang and Glory Seed played. The day went by, they stopped for lunch, then worked and played some more, until the sun was beginning to set. Glory Seed and Plum Pudding went home, and Tikbalang waited.
She changed her clothes as the spring passed by, wearing different outfits every day when Plum Pudding and Glory Seed came to visit. Some were normal, some were exotic. Some were not fitting for the season. It just felt good to change clothes. When summer arrived, Plum had finished a large portion of the upstairs area.
“I have learned a lot about construction over these years, and since this is somewhat of a hobby, I suppose I’ve gotten faster at it,” Plum said.
Tikbalang looked at the upstairs rooms, and marveled at how clean and efficient his work was. “You’ve certainly gotten better at it. That much is obvious.”
“I think I should have the interior complete by the end of summer! If I can make sure the well is functional, Glory and I would be able to move in come fall,” Plum Pudding said.
“You mean it?” Tikbalang tried to sound a little less excited than she felt.
“If, and only if, all our amenities are met. I’d need the well to provide water, and I’d need to find a place to build an outhouse, since the place doesn’t have any facilities I was able to locate,” Plum said.
“Oh, of course. I… haven’t ever needed that kind of thing like this,” Tikbalang said.
“Well, just a little more time, then. We’re making good progress!” Plum smiled at Tikbalang.
She’d be lying if she said her heart wouldn’t have fluttered a little bit if she had one. He’d been nothing but kind to her since they first met, and although a lot of that had come from his misconception that she was a spirit of bad and good fortune, his learning that she wasn’t hadn’t changed his attitude that much. He was still kind to her, he still wanted to rebuild her house, and he even wanted to move in with her. It all seemed to be a little too much too fast sometimes.
Tikbalang watched Glory Seed over the weeks as Plum worked on the house. She’d watched him grow from a tiny foal to the strong young colt that he was now. He was nearing six years of age, and he’d have to go to school soon. She could imagine him running down the hill off to school in town, and she felt a little surge of happiness at the though. It would almost be like they were a family.
Summer days passed and Plum Pudding was right. He finished his work on the interior with several weeks to spare before harvest. He left her room alone because she had preserved it well enough with her magic that nothing needed replaced.
“It even came fully furnished!” He laughed. “I’ll touch up the exterior slowly, but it’s still insulating well enough, and the plants and vines growing up the side haven’t breached anything. I’ll need to watch them over the years, but it’s in good shape! We just need to dig a spot for an outhouse, and clear off that well to test the water.” He looked down the hill at the brambles that covered the stone well. “I’ll bring a machete next time, and some rope and a bucket. Probably a lantern, too, so we can see what’s down there.”
“Great! You need to make sure the outhouse doesn’t seep into the water supply, though,” Tikbalang said.
“Yeah, can probably get a unicorn to prevent that if necessary. But that hinges on what I find when I dig next time we come by. No shovel and no machete right now, and it’s late in the day,” Plum said.
“Alright. I’ll see you next week Plum.” Tikbalang bent down to ruffle Glory’s mane. “And you too, little stallion.”
“Yup. See you Tikbalang,” Plum said.
“See you next week Mummy,” Glory said.
The two ponies left, leaving Tikbalang in her fully repaired home. There was minimal furniture, and no decorations, but the floors were swept and solid, the walls were painted, the windows functional. The stairs didn’t creak, the banister was polished, and when hooves besides hers tapped on the floor, they tapped on solid hardwood. It was beautiful.
She went into her room and looked at the freshly dusted and swept surfaces. Her clothes had been aired out so they no longer smelled like musty mothballs, and her shoes had been polished to a fine sheen. Glory helped with those. There was even lighting in every room. Plum had brought some lanterns and lamps to place around the house, so even at night they could see. Not that she needed it, but the other two ponies did.
Tikbalang had nothing to do for a week, so she waited in her room, trying on different outfits. That only lasted her a single day, so she idled about the house, sitting in one room, then another, for hours on end, imagining what kind of furniture she might like in each one. She even looked at the kitchen, which Plum had lovingly re-tiled and scrubbed down. She wasn’t sure she knew how to cook, and wouldn’t know how the food would taste anyway, but it was fun to imagine.
The next week, Plum and Glory arrived early in the day, spade, shovel, machete, rope, and bucket among other things were piled in the cart. She went to meet them outside and all three went to the backyard to investigate the well.
Plum hacked and slashed through the thick vines until the entire thing was cleaned for a few feet around it. Glory and Tikbalang moved the vines and brambles as he worked, piling them off to the side to be burned later. Once the well was clear, Plum put the machete down and grabbed the bucket and rope.
“Okay Glory, I need you to be careful. This is a very deep well, and we have no idea what’s down there, so you can’t get too close without one of us holding you, alright?” Plum said.
“Okay Daddy,” Glory responded.
Satisfied, Plum grabbed at the lid and hefted it with all his might. Tikbalang used her magic to help, but she was quite rusty at telekinesis, and the lid weighed a considerable amount. With much effort, they shifted the lid up. Insects scurried out of the now exposed cracks, and they dropped it to the side of the stone well with a heavy thud.
Plum lifted Glory to look down the well with them, and all three stared down into the darkness. There appeared to be a slight reflection coming from below, but the pit was very dark. Tikbalang lit her horn and cast her light downward, illuminating a reflective surface far below.
“Looks like there’s still water. That’s good.” Plum put down Glory, grabbed his bucket and rope, wrapped one end around his hoof, and tossed the bucket down into the well.
The bucket hit with a splash that echoed upward, and he started hefting it back up, hoof over hoof. When the bucket arrived at the top it was full of good, clean water. Plum sniffed it, dipped a hoof in and licked it, then tilted it to have a drink.
“Oh, that’s delicious!” Plum said.
“Let me try, let me try!” Glory hopped up and down.
Plum lowered the bucket for Glory and he slurped some of the water out of it.
“Mmmm! That’s delicious!” Glory mimicked his father.
“Would you like to try Tik… ah.” Plum pulled the bucket back and looked away, scratching his beard.
Tikbalang grinned at the error. “Did you just try to offer a ghost water?”
“Ah… yes?” Plum shrugged.
“Well I do believe I would love a drink of water!” Tikbalang said
She used her magic to pull the bucket from Plum’s hooves, then tilted her head up and opened her skeletal jaws. She poured the water out, and it, of course, passed right through her, soaking her clothes and splashing on the ground beneath her.
Glory laughed almost immediately. Plum stared in confusion for a moment, then he started laughing.
“Mmmm. Delicious!” Tikbalang said.
The bucket was emptied soon enough, and Plum Pudding placed it next to the well with the roped coiled up beneath it.
“We have our water, and the latrine would have to be deeper than it to avoid poisoning the water supply, but I’m not sure I want to dig a latrine that deep,” Plum said. “I’ll probably put it on the opposite side of the backyard, and get a unicorn to enchant it. It’ll be cheaper and safer that way in case anypony falls in.”
“Ewwww, doody swim,” Glory said.
“Yes, you certainly don’t want to do that,” Plum said.
“Wonderful. Will you be moving in then?” Tikbalang asked.
“I think we will. My sisters have all been married, and one of them can take over the house with their husband while Glory and Myself move out here. I’ll start moving in furniture soon, though I think I’ll need some help. How would you feel about other ponies coming to visit?” Plum said.
Tikbalang didn’t know how to respond to that. “I… I don’t know. Nopony knows about me, but I suppose they’ll need to find out soon enough.”
“It won’t happen immediately, but my mother will want to see the house now that it is finished. I don’t have to bring anypony other than her,” Plum said.
“Let’s keep it to one or two ponies at first. I’m not exactly somepony you’d bring home to mother,” Tikbalang said.
“Ahhh, I suppose you’re right. I’ll get the house furnished first, and invite her after that, okay?” Plum asked.
Tikbalang nodded. Plum spent the next few days moving furniture, building the outhouse, and getting things set up. He brought a unicorn to enchant the latrine, but he never came inside, and Tikbalang never went outside to see him. He was only there for a brief moment. The house soon enough looked like a place a pony could live, with furniture, amenities, beds, dishes, and pots and pans. It was an old-style house, and so running water wasn’t available, but Plum intended to fix that over time. For now, it was good enough.
The day finally came when Plum was going to bring his mother to see the house he had worked so many years to fix. Glory and he had moved in, and Glory had his own room now, and Plum had his own as well. Both of them respected Tikbalang’s privacy and left her alone in hers when she needed it, but today Glory was in her room sitting on her bed while she paced back and forth.
“You’re sure the dress looks good?” Tikbalang asked again.
“Yes Mummy, it looks fine. Grandma will love you,” Glory said.
“But what if she doesn’t?”
“She will.”
“But what if…” Tikbalang was interrupted by the sound of the door opening downstairs. “Oh no, I’m not ready. My skin is still missing!”
“Just wait until Daddy mentions you, then come down, okay?” Glory said.
“Glory, your grandma’s here, come down!” Plum yelled from below.
Glory Seed hopped off the bed and trotted out the door. “Coming Daddy.”
Tikbalang was left alone up in her room. She’d put on a nice dress and fancy shoes. They were in some old foreign style, which was another reason she thought she must have been from outside Equestria before her death. Or she spent a lot of time traveling. But she looked nice, with her mane done up, her dress clean, the only part of her that was unpresentable was, well, herself, with her skin missing.
She waited, listening as Plum took her around the house. The older mare commented on the excellent work he’d done in revitalizing the place, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as they went. Eventually she asked the question Tikbalang had been waiting for.
“But this house is huge. Is it really just going to be you and Glory living here? We could fit the whole family inside this place. What do you plan on doing with all the space?” The mare asked.
“Ah, well you see mother, the house isn’t really mine,” Plum said.
“You mean something legal? Then why can you live here and not the rest of us?” The mare said.
“Not exactly, the old owner still lives here,” Plum said.
“But the place has been abandoned for decades. Did they come back?”
“No, she’s been here the whole time. Do you remember that winter when Plentiful Posies got lost in the woods, then the whole town saw a ghostly light in the woods?”
“Yes, I do. It led to your sister and you never explained… wait… you don’t mean?”
“Mother, I would like to introduce you to the Tikbalang who cursed and blessed us all these years,” Plum Pudding said.
At her cue, Tikbalang stepped out onto the upstairs landing, and slowly descended, Plum’s mother staring at her with her mouth wide open. To her credit, she didn’t scream in fright, nor did she yell at her for all the blame she must have placed on Tikbalang for her family’s misfortune. She just looked, and closed her mouth in thought after a few minutes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Tikbalang, as your son has named me. My own name has been lost for many years, so that one will suffice,” Tikbalang said.
Plum’s mother kept staring, her eyes flicking between Tikbalang’s hollow sockets and her jagged exposed teeth. “Plum, may I have a word with you outside?”
Plum Pudding took his aging mother out the front door, leaving Glory and Tikbalang inside. Plum came back in after a moment and picked up Glory seed, probably at his mother’s urging, and Tikbalang was left to herself while heated voices argued outside the front door. It went on for several minutes, until all three stormed back inside, with Plum’s mother in the lead.
She came up to Tikbalang and stood with her head held high. “Plum tells me you aren’t actually a natural spirit, but the ghost of a pony who lived here, is that true?”
“It is.” Tikbalang did not address her with any honorifics. It didn’t feel ‘right’. She was much older than this mare, and giving her an inch wouldn’t be acceptable.
“My son tells me you helped us many years ago, and all these years you’ve been here watching my grandson while Plum worked to repair your house, this is also true?”
“It is.”
“Well, they’re both very much alive, and our orchard is healthy, they have a new house to live in that is much more grand than the old one. I suppose I have you to thank for his change in attitude since the death of his—“ her eyes flicked down to Glory and she cleared her throat “—since death brought him so much grief.”
“I do not claim that, but I appreciate his company, and he seems to appreciate mine. Glory and I get along very well,” Tikbalang said.
“Then… I have no other complaints. It’s an unusual circumstance, but nopony is worse the wear for it. You are welcome to your new home, Plum. It is a work of art and you should be proud of it.” Plum’s mother turned and marched out the front door.
Once she was gone down the hill, Tikbalang turned to Plum. “I can’t tell if she liked me or hated me.”
“She liked you well enough. Mother has always been very superstitious, and seeing an actual ghost has probably confused her. She’ll warm up to you eventually.” Plum grinned. “She won’t let us stay here alone during Hearth’s warming, and this house is much bigger than our old one, so she’ll probably ask to spend it here, despite your presence.”
“Hearth’s warming. That would be something,” Tikbalang said.
“I think it would be lovely. There are enough rooms for my entire family, an impressive fireplace and kitchen, and if I can get plumbing working before then, it will be a cozy Hearth’s Warming indeed,” Plum said.
It had been years since Tikbalang had ever spent a winter with anypony but herself for company. This would be a welcome change of pace, no matter what they thought of her appearance. Now that she had three ponies vouching for her goodwill, there was less chance somepony would freak out at her and call on a witch hunt.
“I would like that indeed,” Tikbalang said.
“I would love that! Now I’ll get so many more presents!” Glory said.
Tikbalang felt a warm sense of happiness fill her. She didn’t know the circumstances of her death, or where she had been buried, but now, with all of this surrounding her, it no longer mattered. She had a family, and despite her appearance, they didn’t care either. They had each other, and that was what was important.
Even if years down the line they all passed away or left, even if she herself one day went wherever ghosts were supposed to go, she had this for now, by hook or by crook, through richer and poorer, through their sickness and their health, as long as the building that enclosed them stood, the house would remember.
And that was enough.
The End.
