Cosmic

Chapters

Chapter II – Rain
Chapter III – Stories
Chapter I – Vinegar

Chapter II – Rain

Serenade rubbed her temples and pinched her eyes, trying and failing to shunt the bleariness. She blinked rapidly a few times before glancing back down at the newspaper strewn across her table. Black and grey swam together and muddled her brain into a deep headache, her only relief in the little splashes of red that highlighted a few job listings. She levitated her marker and circled another one—a tutoring job—before collapsing against the back of her chair.

Her condo was dim at the best of times. It had only one window in the hall behind her, and even that tinted the light through a golden brown film on the glass that had come with age and neglect. Not that there was much light to begin with, as the storm churned through the night and blotted out all but the most resolute beams of moonlight. Beyond that, a single candle cast the kitchen in a feeble orange glow, fighting a losing battle against the darkness. The only other source of ambience was the rain perpetually hammering against the walls and roof outside like thousands of tiny drums. Loudest were the drops that hit the window, relentlessly pounding at the glass as the night wore on.

Her gaze lingered on the candle. It resembled an amorphous wax rose after how many times it had melted and cooled. I wonder if I should take that with us when we leave, she pondered. I don’t know how long it’ll be until we find a place to stay with proper lights. She shook her head. All evening her thoughts had been wandering to what she wanted to pack when they left. She hadn’t the slightest idea of where she even planned to go, let alone what she’d need when they got there. How was she meant to prepare for an unknowable destination?

Again, her eyes flickered shut. The cold, ruthless letters of the eviction notice still burned behind her eyelids.

Food. Her eyes slid open. I should definitely bring all the food I can. What do I even have left? Legs protesting, Serenade stood from the chair. She took a moment to stretch the wooden feeling from her bones before going to open the cabinet. Three cans of strained peaches littered the shelf, and a single can of creamed peas stood out among them. Beyond those were only stale crumbs and a single slab of bread, likely near the point of molding. Serenade sighed internally.

A little whimper tore her attention away. She absently grabbed the can of peas, extinguished the candle, and made for the hallway. Her magic slowly heated the can as she walked. A door stood open halfway down the corridor, just opposite the window, and Serenade turned inside.

Cadance squirmed in her crib, making the unhappy noises only foals can make. “Shhh,” Serenade cooed. She lifted Cadance in her arms, holding her close, and the filly quieted a bit. She rocked her gently back and forth. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Mommy’s here with yum-yums.” She sat on her own bed that lay a small distance away. The springs groaned beneath the weight.

With but a thought, Serenade popped the can of peas open. Steam poured out in a smokestack, and an odour like mortar with the afterburn of peas filled the room. Serenade lifted a baby spoon from the nightstand and scooped out a morsel of the green paste. “Nummy, nummy.” She smiled hopefully. The spoon floated near Cadance’s mouth. “Open wide!”

Giving the peas a little sniff, Cadance scrunched her face. She turned to Serenade with a frown and a tiny groan. Serenade gave her best motherly look. “Come on, honey. It’s good, I promise! And good for you, too. Lots of nummy nutrients!” She inched the spoon towards Cadance, but the filly held her mouth shut and turned away. The spoon maneuvered around to meet her again, but her head swiveled back as though magnetically repelled.

Serenade squeezed the exhaustion from her eyes. “Please don’t be difficult tonight, sweetie. Here, watch mommy.” She lifted the spoon and ate the peas herself. It tasted like wet paper that peas had been strained through, but it was better than nothing. She swallowed and beamed at Cadance, who blinked. “See? Easy! Now you try.”

The spoon dipped into the can and came back to Cadance with another—smaller—helping of peas. She eyed it strangely for a few moments. Eventually, though, she pressed her eyes shut and opened her mouth a fraction. “Good girl,” Serenade whispered. She hovered the spoon into Cadance’s mouth and slid it back out after the foal had clamped down.

Cadance instantly made a retching noise and spat the peas up all over herself. She unleashed a shrill wail, writhing in Serenade’s arms. Serenade bit her lip. She tried to shush Cadance as she scanned the room for a napkin of some kind. In the nightstand she found an empty pack of baby wipes and grimaced. As Cadance’s cries grew louder, Serenade tore a scrap of fabric from her pillowcase and set about wiping up the mess. “It’s okay, Cadance. Shhh, sweetie. Mommy will make it better.”

The cries settled as Cadance watched the peas disappear, but still she whimpered. Her little lips trembling, she rolled towards Serenade and pawed at her abdomen. Serenade frowned. She looked from Cadance to the can of peas to the soiled piece of fabric and was suddenly overcome with a nigh inexorable desire to scream.

She suppressed it, heaving a sigh instead. “Fine. Fine, Cadenza, you win. Today’s been hard enough as is.” She brushed back the hair that covered one of her teats, and Cadance latched onto it like a starved catfish.

Despite it all, the sight and sensation of Cadance feeding returned a fragment of a smile to Serenade's face. “I will have to wean you eventually, though,” she whispered. Finally back to a relative peace, Serenade ate another spoonful of creamed peas. Ponderous, and for a lack of anything to do, she allowed her gaze to roam.

The room had hardly changed from the day they’d moved in. Tiny cracks snaked all across the off-white walls as though they would flake away at even a harsh glance. Her bed was the same old cot the condo had come with—still as ratty and uncomfortable, too. Dingy hardwood covered the floor in lifeless slabs. It had the ashen colour of varnish that had spent too long underhoof, but Serenade never remembered the floors having varnish to begin with. A single oval rug formed an island for Cadance’s crib, and the crib lorded over most of the bedroom, its teak frame and colourful fabrics mystical amid the bleakness. On the crib’s far side stood a pair of closet doors, though they had been closed so long that Serenade accepted them more as wall furnishings than storage space. The nightstand rested between the bed and the crib as the crux of the room’s personality. It held two cards, a framed picture, and a skeletal lamp that lit the room with all the intensity of firefly light. One of the cards was a simple bit of ivory cardstock, folded in half and inscribed with black ink. The other was a patchwork mess of pink and purple glitter with bright golden letters reading HAPPY B-DAY SERI!!! across the front. The words shimmered like raindrops caught in sunlight.

Serenade smiled and levitated the birthday card over. She held it in the air just beyond Cadance and flipped it open. The card’s inside served as a performance stage, and a tiny illusion of Melody played the dancer, twirling about within. Magic-Melody hollered, “Weee!” a few times before facing Serenade and beaming with all her features. “Happy Birthday, Seri!” the illusion cheered, and Serenade giggled. “I couldn’t fit all of the birthday wishes I wanted into one card, so Madame Presto helped me enchant this one to say everything! Just close the card and open it again and you’ll get a new message! Neat, huh?” Melody resumed hopping all across the card. “Wee! Look, Seri! I’m an illusion! Wahoo!” Serenade chuckled again, and this time her heart was in it. A deep, true bosom-laugh.

A tiny pink hoof reached for the card. Cadance had stopped feeding, and her mouth made a small ‘o’ as she stared starstruck by the magic. Her hoof waved through Melody a few times before the illusion fizzled out. Cadance turned up to Serenade, the filly’s face still frozen in perplexed wonder. Something about that look simply melted Serenade, and she gently reached and bopped Cadance on the muzzle. The foal’s eyes crossed, and she chirped happily. Serenade giggled, but then Cadance’s face twisted into something sour. She writhed for a moment before burping up a tiny air bubble. She squealed with joy and clopped her hooves together, and Serenade giggled even more.

Laughter subsiding, Cadance leaned forward and poked at the birthday card. Serenade flipped it shut and reopened it instantly. A new Melody looked up at her with a crooked smirk. “Guess how much I love you, Seri?” She stood proudly on her back hooves and spread her arms wide. Then a great line of Melodys—seventeen in all—popped into existence and extended the length of the card, all of their hooves touching to form a small chain of little sisters. The two illusions at the card's edges stood with only one hoof on the card and wobbled as they tried to stay on board. “I love you thiiiiis much!” they chanted in unison. The Melody in the middle swayed as her balance began a mutiny against her. She blew a stray bang from her face and said, “Happy Birthday!” The illusion cut out just before she fell over.

Cadance cheered her foalish noises and tapped the card again, evidently hoping to coax the tiny pony back to life. Serenade rolled her eyes and flipped the card twice more. This time Melody had her back turned, and her head had vanished in a cross-section of blue magic. “Remember to stay in the rune circle, Melody,” whispered a mare’s voice—Madame Presto, Serenade recognized. “Your whole body has to stay inside the lines for this to work well.”

“Wait, we’re going already?!” Melody cried, wheeling her head around so that her face poked out of thin air. “But I’m not ready! Quick, stop the spell! And don’t put this one in the—” The image vanished abruptly. Serenade snortled. Again, Cadance smacked the card, nearly sending it pinwheeling. Serenade flipped the card another time to trigger the next illusion.

Two ponies appeared on the card this time; Melody stood astride a mauve pegasus stallion, and they both wore bold smiles. Ice gripped Serenade’s chest, forcing a gasp. Her magic winked out, and the card slapped against the floor as it swung shut and snapped the illusion away. The noise sealed the room in a sharp silence like the pinprick bang of a popped balloon.

Serenade took stock of herself. She was holding her breath, she wasn’t blinking, and the illusion of Wind Wrangler and Melody still ghosted in her memory. She exhaled a slow, heaving breath and allowed herself a few blinks, but she kept staring at the offending card. The longer she stared at it, the more heat built in her eyes, and the more she longed to open it again.

She heard a strained grunt. Looking down, Cadance was stretching her hooves towards the card and trying to worm free of her mother’s embrace. Serenade blinked and sealed her mouth in a taut line. She lowered Cadance to the floor and let the foal go.

Cadance scooted over to the card and smacked it with her hoof. When that didn’t work, she smacked it again—harder. The card stubbornly did nothing. Cadance pouted. She lowered her muzzle to the card and poked it, sliding it along the grainy hardwood. The card threatened to open as her nose caught it, but it closed when she pulled away. Cadance’s eyes widened a little, and she touched the card again with her muzzle—this time she purposefully caught the card’s opening and flipped it up. The card flew open, and another illusion began.

Serenade’s breath caught in her throat.

The illusion was a different one, but both Windy and Melody were still there. They stood face to face—well, Melody stood, but Windy was prone on his stomach so that he and Melody were eye level—and bore mock grimaces at one another. His eyes, Serenade thought. She bit her lip. Mercy, those eyes.

“Nuh-uh!” Melody bellowed. “I love Seri more!”

Windy pffft’d and rolled his eyes dramatically. “No way!” he said. His voice! “I love her more than anypony!”

“We’re sisters! There’s no love bigger or better!”

“She’s my wife!” That word. Serenade had to close her eyes. “She gave me a wedding band and everything!”

Melody barked out a laugh. “Wedding band, schmedding schmand. She buys me ice cream and braids my mane like all the time! Has she ever braided your mane?” Despite herself, Serenade chuckled. I did, once. You were asleep, you big lug.

There was a moderate silence, then Windy said, “Huh, good point.” He laughed. Laugh again. “I guess she really does love you more, Seri. Can’t argue with that!”

Serenade’s eyes popped open in time to see Melody pounce atop Windy’s back. They were both looking at Cadance—who sat transfixed by the magic sparkly ponies. “Just kidding!” Melody chimed. “We both love you the same!”

“Happy birthday!” they cheered together. Windy quickly flipped around and grabbed Melody. He tickled beneath her mane. She squirmed around and laughed uproariously. Windy seemed about to say something, then the illusion vanished.

A few tears had sprung loose from Serenade’s eyes. She allowed them to roll unabated—down her face and towards her smile, as though they were trying to push it back into a frown. Serenade sniffled and shook her head. “You were so good with her.”

She looked at Cadance—the foal was trying to flip the card again, but she just kept sliding it farther along the floor with her muzzle. Serenade breathed a half-laugh and reached down, lifting Cadance by her middle. “Time for bed, sweetums.” It stunned her when Cadance made no protest. The filly just looked up at her with shiny, blue-button eyes, then folded in on herself and snuggled against Serenade. Soft waves of warmth flowed over Serenade’s chest with each of Cadance’s breaths, like the tide on a cloudless summer night.

Serenade smiled. The thought of putting Cadance back in the crib never even crossed her mind. She cradled the foal near her bosom and very slowly maneuvered herself beneath the mothwing blanket. It was a scratchy, brown thing, but it did the trick. She scooched a bit to create a small gap between herself and Cadance, just enough to see her tranquil face. Serenade tucked a kiss beneath Cadance’s mane and whispered, “Good night, Cadenza.” She brought one arm around the filly and settled against the pillow.

Yet despite the exhaustion scraping at her eyes, Serenade found herself unable to fully close them. She had become fixated on the nightstand at the last moment. The second card—black, white, and formal all over—sat askew in the lamp’s mild glow. It was just barely too far away to be legible, so Serenade nudged it closer with her magic. Her eyes first caught the chicken scrawl at the bottom which read Happy 17th Seri! and she gave a ghost smile. Then she proceeded to read the card proper.

She got through the first page before the words jumbled into a slurry of cursive writing. A headache nipped at the back of her skull, and she could sense more tears lurking beneath her eyelids, so Serenade gingerly closed the invitation and laid it face-down on the nightstand. The words With thanks, the E.C.A.G. staff were inscribed on the back.

Serenade’s attention drifted lazily to the framed photo. The picture was as simple as they came: a vast green meadow under a clear sky with a white lattice archway as the centerpiece. But it was for this very simplicity that Serenade gave it her truest smile—one reserved for her own private use, and the same one she gave Cadance most every day. Her eyes traced the line where the windswept emerald field kissed the blue horizon. Everything about the image was just as she remembered it from the day she’d been there. It had been her and just one other pony, and they had stood together beneath that arch for a long while. Till death do us part, Serenade mused.

It was with this picture in mind—nothing of the eviction notice or the storm outside or the dwindling food supplies or the uncomfortable cot or the utterly uncertain future—that Serenade finally escaped into sleep. Just a meadow in her head and a baby by her heart.

Dry, stagnant air pinched her nostrils and throat, and Serenade coughed herself awake. She sat up—careful not to nudge Cadance—and slid out from beneath the blanket. She smacked her lips and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in her mouth, but the very act of swallowing grated her dusty throat. The only thought that formed in her head was that there was a sink in the kitchen and she needed water, so she plodded out into the hallway.

As she rubbed the sleep from one eye, her other eye spotted the window. It remained sealed as grey, mid-morning light trickled in, dulling the world to a newspaper shade. Tendrils of frost framed the glass, and Serenade could already sense the crisp, dewy atmosphere waiting to fill her apartment and free her from the mummified air. She reached out with her magic and pulled the window open.

It was too late that her sleep-addled brain noticed the mistake. Rainclouds still loomed large outside, and thin droplets tapped against the glass in an innocent staccato.

The humid autumn air flooded in, bringing the scent of still-fresh rain with it. It swamped Serenade’s nostrils and assaulted her brain, electrocuting all the drowsiness from it. A rasp wrenched itself from her. She fell hard against the opposite wall. Primal frenzy ripped through her conscious mind.

She didn’t even remember hitting the floor.

Twisted orange light. Blood.

It breaks. Burning wood. Discordant pain. Music, in fragments.

Crack-thud. Ozone, or gunpowder. Mother.

Music in fragments. Orchestral, and electric. Floral. Pink light. All is well.

Rain.

“Calm down, girl! Come on! Get a hold of yourself!”

Reality snapped back into place. Serenade lay on the floor mid-scream. She silenced herself and stared up into a pair of bright periwinkle eyes. She realized the eyes were attached to a pony—a mare—and that the stranger had her hooves firmly on her shoulders. Then she realized she was lying against the wall, and her side hurt from having slammed against it.

Then she realized that Cadance was crying, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

“You with me?” the mare began. “You alright? Say something—”

“Cadance!” Serenade tore away and turned sharply into the bedroom.

Cadance was sitting up on the bed. Her lips quivered and her eyes warbled as she looked all around like a lost child. She saw Serenade and immediately crawled towards her, but she reached the edge of the mattress and tumbled off. Pale yellow magic caught her just in time, but the foal only wailed louder. Serenade rushed forward and scooped Cadance up in her arms. She immediately sat on the bed and began shushing her despite the tears still present in her own eyes.

“Ohmigosh,” said the mystery mare. Serenade didn’t even look up. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear the baby and I wanted to make sure you would be okay and I would’ve checked here if I heard her I swear and—”

Through her sniffles, Serenade caught a whiff of the damp air still rolling in. She jerked her head at the mare and half-shouted, “The window!”

“What?!” The mare looked from Serenade to the window and back again. She frowned. “Yeah, that’s how I—”

“Close it! Close the window! Please!”

“Right! I can definitely do that!” The mare leapt out of sight and Serenade heard the sound of the window clicking shut. With that off her mind, she returned all her focus to Cadance and continued cooing softly.

Soon enough, the mare returned to the doorframe and said, “Okay, window’s shut. You alright?”

Serenade sniffled and swallowed, steadying her breaths. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment. Shh, Cadie. It’s okay. Everything’s okay…”

The minutes stretched on as Serenade rocked Cadance back into calmness. The filly’s cries descended into whimpers, and from there subsided into occasional groans. All the while the stranger stood quietly at the door. Aside from the occasional shuffle of her hooves, not a sound rose from her, almost as though she were a shadow or figment of the imagination.

Eventually Cadance’s eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing settled into a rhythm. “I think she’ll be okay,” Serenade said, and at once she was reminded of how dry and raw her throat felt. She looked up at the mare and said, “Could you get me some water, please? Kitchen’s just down the hall.”

“Got it.” The mare trotted off to the kitchen. Moments later she returned with a tall glass brimming with water. Serenade nodded and took it in her magic. She inhaled it greedily, and as she did she took her first real look at the stranger. Her faded lime coat blended well with her braided mane—just a shade darker than her ice-blue eyes. It was like mother nature had plucked the most delicate colours from a springtime forest and painted this mare with her gentlest brushstrokes.

The last of the water trickled down Serenade’s throat. She exhaled and said, “Sorry, I really needed that. Thank you, Miss…”

“Miss nothing.” The mare trotted over and sat down next to Serenade—the bed moaned under their combined weight. “It’s Jade. Jade Rosary, if we’re being formal.”

Serenade nodded at her. “Jade it is. Now… not that I don’t appreciate your help, but what are you doing here? And how did you get in, for that matter?”

Jade gave her a look betraying utter confusion—as though breaking into a total stranger’s home were the most normal, acceptable thing in the world. Then she blinked and said, “Oh! Right! I guess you didn’t exactly expect to see anyone once you calmed down from… whatever that was out there.”

At that, Serenade had to break eye contact. Her gaze fell to Cadance. “Um… yeah, it was kind of…” Struggling to find the next word, Serenade allowed the room to slip into a thick silence.

Jade cleared her throat. “Right. Well, I was just kinda walking by when I heard you start screaming. I didn’t really know what to do. I was just gonna keep going, but it just got louder and louder and… shriller, I guess. Nopony else was around, so I found which condo it was, saw the window open and climbed inside. Then I saw you and…” Her face tightened—almost a wince. “Well, we don’t have to relive that part. Eh-heh.”

Still, Serenade kept her eyes down. An interminable heat broiled behind her cheeks. “Yeah,” she whispered, “I’d rather not.”

“So when I saw you, I just did the first thing I could think of. I grabbed you and spoke as calmly as I could, trying to snap you out of it.” Jade shrugged. “Dunno if it helped at all, but we’re here now, so I guess it’s cool.”

“Mhmm.” They suffered through another silence. Eventually, Serenade managed to turn back to Jade and forced her best smile. “Well, thank you for your help. Most ponies probably wouldn’t have even tried.”

“Don’t mention it, uh…” Jade rolled a hoof through the air. She gave Serenade a hopeful look.

It took her a moment, but soon enough she blurted, “Oh! Sorry. It’s, erm, Serenade.”

Jade beamed. “Serenade! What a nice name.” She looked to Cadance, and her smile softened. “And who’s this little cutie pie?”

Against all odds, Serenade’s smile softened too. “This is Cadenza. She’s my daughter. Almost six months old now.”

“Daughter?” Serenade’s chest tightened at the tone of curiosity in Jade’s voice. “Seriously? I thought you were just, like, foalsitting or something. How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” Serenade shot. Too quick—she’ll know you’re lying. Pull it back. “Most ponies say I look younger than I am.”

“I’ll bet! Damn. Wish I’d looked so good at twenty two.”

“Heh.” That was all Serenade could manage. Anything else she had hoped to say was either blocked by the lump in her throat or swallowed by the pit in her stomach. Yet another break in the conversation followed, filled only by the remnants of the previous night’s storm still tapping on the walls outside. Serenade tried to focus on Cadance’s breathing, matching her own to the same rhythm.

“Hey.” Jade lightly touched Serenade’s shoulder. She flinched, but she allowed it. “Look, I know this hasn’t exactly been the best morning for you—and trust me, it’s not how I expected mine to go either. But you seem nice, so… why don’t we just forget all of this and start over?” She got off the bed. “I know a little place down by the Opal where we could get some breakfast. Might help get your mind off things. My treat!”

Serenade forced herself to look up. Jade smiled, softness in her eyes. Serenade did her best to return the look. “I appreciate the offer. Really. But I have a lot that I need to get done today, and I’m already behind. So—”

“I promise it’ll be quick,” Jade said. “And maybe I can help with whatever else you have to do too. You know what they say: eight hooves are better than four!”

A reply had already formed on her tongue, but Serenade paused. Her empty stomach ached, begging her to reconsider. And she almost did, but the bold letters of the eviction notice tugged at her like a shackle on her mind. Forty eight hours. And counting.

Hope sparkled in Jade’s eyes. “Well?”

“I…” Serenade shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jade, but I just can’t. I’ve already inconvenienced you enough as it is, and—”

“It’s no inconvenience, honest!” Jade took a step closer. “I didn’t really have much planned today anyway. Please, Serenade, I just—”

“Jade,” Serenade snapped—harsher than she’d meant to. She took a single, deep breath and spoke in as level a voice as she could. “Sorry. I do honestly appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I promise I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone right now.” She hung her head and held Cadance ever closer. “Thank you again.”

Gentle clops sounded as Jade took a few small steps back. “Right. Yeah. Of course.” She simply stood there for a few moments in stark silence. Serenade almost made to say something, but Jade’s hoofsteps resumed, and she kept quiet.

“I don’t live too far off,” Jade said, pausing in the doorframe, “so maybe I’ll see you again sometime. And hopefully I won’t have to break and enter to do it next time, heh.”

Serenade gave a small nod—she wasn’t even sure if Jade would be able to tell. The hoofsteps picked up again, growing quieter and quieter as they continued down the hall. There was a click, a door opening—briefly heightening the sound of the rain and wind outside—and the door closed again.

Collapsing sideways on her bed, Serenade exhaled a shaky breath. She gave the photograph on her nightstand a long look, getting lost in its colours. She absently stroked Cadance’s mane and waited for the rain to end.

Author's Note

Proofread by Absolution.

Chapter III – Stories

Serenade set down her powder brush and looked in the mirror. For better or worse, she could hardly recognize herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d put on makeup. The process had felt familiar, yet somehow wrong—like trying to fit into a dress she’d outgrown years prior. Regardless, her beautification skills had been second to none in her schooling years, and she evidently still had the touch.

She fluttered her eyelashes and feigned a smile. Just a little more. She took the powder brush in her magic and ran it along the inside of her rouge compact, scraping together the last scattered flecks of blush and powdering her cheeks. The difference was probably imperceptible, but it made her feel better all the same.

The compact clicked shut. She regarded it distantly—it was a black clamshell design with the golden letter L engraved on its back. It had belonged to her mother, once upon a time. Serenade twirled it in her magic for a moment before sliding it into her saddlebags. Just in case.

Leaving the washroom, she trotted down the corridor and stopped beside the window. She halfway wanted to open it again. The grey clouds had long since dissipated, and the heavy autumn sun was quick to warm the streets. Yet a wayward raindrop still clung to the glass, giving her pause. She inhaled, opened the window a crack, and continued to her bedroom.

Cadance’s mid-morning nap was well underway, the foal fast asleep in her crib. Serenade gave her a wistful smile as she stepped over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. It mostly contained the necessities for foal care—a thinning pack of diapers, a small sun hat, and a lone pacifier, all of which she magicked into her saddlebags—but a square of pale yellow fabric sat tucked away in the back. She pulled it out and allowed the mesh scarf to unfold, tumbling down under its own weight. She sat on her bed and set about wrapping the scarf around her neck while simultaneously reaching into her saddlebags and scouring for her pearl earrings. They were hidden away at the bottom beneath her five remaining bits.

As the scarf fastened around her neck, Serenade lifted the earrings in her magic and frowned. For months she had gone back and forth on whether or not to sell them—not that they would go for all that much, but every little bit counted. Windy had given them to her as part of a first date anniversary gift, yet surely he would’ve told her to sell them had he been there. He would have understood.

Then again, Serenade wouldn’t have been in this situation at all had Windy been there. She bit her lip and put the earrings on. The cold metal made her ears twitch.

Pushing the feeling aside, Serenade stood and stepped over to Cadance’s crib. She reached in with her hooves and gingerly lifted the foal out, blankets and all. Cadance squirmed a bit but did not wake. With slow and precise steps, Serenade made her way out to the kitchenette.

Even in the hot morning light, it seemed as dark and dismal as she had left it the night before—the marked newspaper still spread across the table, and the cupboards still open. Water dripped in slow, steady droplets from the sink’s faucet, plopping against the basin like an ancient heartbeat. Serenade quirked an eyebrow at it before remembering that Jade had come here to get her a glass of water earlier. Her heart pinched as she suddenly became aware of just how much the kitchen revealed.

Her eyes flitted past the newspaper, and her stomach twisted.

She reached her magic out and turned the faucet off. Her aura then shifted to the corner of the room where the baby carriage lay, and she pulled it over. She set Cadance inside and spent far too long adjusting the blankets until they were just right. Some of the foal-care supplies hovered from her saddlebags and settled into the undercarriage—Serenade spent a few long minutes double-checking to make sure everything was there. Then she triple-checked. Once she was satisfied, she stepped around the central table and took the three cans of peaches from the cupboard, meticulously checking their expiry dates before hiding them away in her saddlebags. She shut the cupboard doors and moved on to the fridge, which was empty save two bottles of milk she’d put in overnight. She took each bottle and methodically checked them for every minute detail she could think of—fullness, temperature, cleanliness, taste, even consistency.

Quit stalling, her mind chided. You’re on borrowed time, remember?

Finally, Serenade shut the fridge and tucked away the milk bottles. She shuffled over and sat at the table which dominated most of the room. The newspaper was still open to the classifieds, but she ignored it for the time being and instead pulled out her day planner—it had seen little use since her days had become so routine, but the process gave her peace of mind anyway. For lack of a quill or ink, she took the marker she’d used for the newspaper and scrawled out her to-do list.

▢ Morning - Attempt to find a job (Celestia help me).
▢ 2:30 - Meet Melody at school (early because Friday). Maybe take her to Comet Tail Park if there’s time.
~~▢~~ Sometime - Go to Wind
I can’t
I have to
I can’t
▢ Sometime - Go see Windy’s parents & ask about staying. Maybe go early so Gale will still be in school.
~~▢~~ Failing that, maybe talk to Mom & Dad
I actually can’t
▢ Failing that, find a really cheap motel. Think there’s one in Topaz? Not sure if shut down or not.
▢ Failing that…?
▢ Evening - Pack up & enjoy your last night here.

It took her wholly too long to write, and rereading it left her feeling cold. Serenade shook her head and sighed through her nose. Having wasted more than enough time, she pushed the planner aside and began poring over newspaper ads.

The route to her first potential job led Serenade on an unfamiliar path through Elmshire. Much of her life had been lived between three places: school, her parents’ house, and Windy’s home—the Topaz District quickly becoming an ugly fourth. There had been occasional outings with her family, mostly to the theatres and galleries of the Garnet District, as well as date nights with Windy to a few nearby parks and restaurants, but she knew the city to be far larger and more diverse than her narrow slice.

It so happened that the quickest path to the Golden Horizons headquarters took her through one of Elmshire’s famed day faires. She knew that she couldn’t afford to spend the last of her savings on anything there, but she needed a distraction, and curiosity about these events had nibbled at her since she’d been a filly. Her father had always forbidden her from going. We don’t associate with mudhooves, he’d said.

Finally getting to see a faire with her own eyes, her opinion of her father only worsened.

Vibrant, upbeat music bounced through the streets. Most came from myriad phonographs set up beside the many colourful stalls and booths, and some came from live bands playing instruments Serenade couldn’t name on street corners and makeshift stages. It laid a foundation for the mess of voices that rose from the crowds, flooding the festival in an orderless scatterplot. Serenade was used to classical music played in precisely organized notes by an orchestra. The noise here was so much different—so much more alive. A symphony told a story—this cacophony told many at once in dynamic tempo. Stories of the entertainers who danced or sang or painted or juggled to the delight of colts and fillies. Stories of the vendors who hocked wares from every walk of life—funnel cakes, doughnuts, fresh lettuce, hot fried okra, juices and wines, wax sculptures and clay dolls, homemade jewelry and clothing, and even animals bred for prize or purpose. Stories of the endless onlookers, sweating under the late morning sun and sloshing through puddles left overnight as they pushed past one another to visit each individual attraction, hoping not to miss anything special. And every story was unique to this moment—this faire, in this part of the city, in a time that would never exist again. Serenade allowed herself to become lost in the stories, silently adding her own to the mix.

Most ponies were kind enough to give her a wide berth as she pushed her carriage through. Yet as Serenade watched longer and entered the thick of things, it seemed less like courtesy and more like the ponies were distancing themselves. She caught a few eyes following her in sidelong glances—some ponies gave half-smiles, others scowled and turned away, but nopony said a word. A lump slowly built in her throat as her mind raced to understand. Was it the makeup? The saddlebags? Cadance?

Her father’s voice rang in her memory like a cast-iron bell. We don’t associate with mudhooves, he’d said.

Serenade scanned the crowds again, this time observing the ponies themselves. She noticed the many mussy manes and bulky builds unique to earth ponies. She noticed a few pegasi fluttering about, keeping low but airborne. What she didn’t notice were any unicorn horns poking out above the sea of heads. Not a single one.

Except hers. A slimy chill rushed through her—she’d removed herself from society for so long that she’d completely forgotten the status quo. Serenade quickened her pace.

She veered away from the main thoroughfare and followed the sidewalk where the crowds were thinner. She found a relatively empty spot behind one of the vendor stalls and took a moment to breathe. Separating her mind from the faire, she glanced inside the baby carriage and was unsurprised to see that Cadance had woken up. The filly’s eyes were wide and glossy, mesmerized as though she’d gazed upon paradise. They moved to Serenade, and Cadance frowned. She wiggled her forelegs out from under the blankets and stretched forward, making little mumbling sounds that were barely audible in the festival’s hustle-bustle.

“Oh, dear,” Serenade said. She pulled her saddlebags off—conscious not to use her magic, as she still felt dozens of curious eyes on her—and pulled a bottle from one of them. She took it in her teeth and brought it up to the carriage. Cadance reached out and tugged the bottle from Serenade’s grip, quickly guzzling the milk within. Serenade sat down on the sidewalk and watched with a fragile smile. Feeling a bit more at ease, she let her gaze roam back out to the festivities.

Her eyes landed on a colourful fruit stand just a small distance ahead. A tall, husky stallion shouted to the crowds with a big smile, selling what looked to be apples, oranges, and pears. But what really pulled Serenade’s attention was the filly stationed just beside the stall—the vendor’s daughter, she assumed. She couldn’t have been older than Melody, though her hair and face were somewhat disheveled, so it was difficult to tell for sure. Her eyes were stark as she frantically glanced back and forth across the swarms of ponies, her body half-hidden behind the stand’s wooden frame. She looked more nervous than Serenade felt, if that were possible. Serenade wanted nothing more than to run up and hug her.

Then her heart froze. The filly slowly stepped out of her hiding spot and lifted a backpack from her haunches. She wandered up to a basket of apples resting beside the stand and pulled a hoofful of fruit into her bag. She cinched the bag shut, heaved it onto her back and took off down the street in a flurry.

Serenade blinked. She looked feverishly at the ponies all around, but nopony else had seemed to notice—many still keeping their eyes on Serenade herself. She looked back and saw a final glimpse of the filly’s tail as she disappeared beyond the crowd.

Pretend you didn’t see anything, her mind urged. You won’t catch up with her anyway. And you don’t have time to spare. Forget it ever happened.

The thought was fleeting. Serenade sprang to her hooves and levitated her saddlebags back into place. She lifted Cadance out of the carriage, separated her from the bottle, and cradled the foal in one arm as she tore after the filly.

Ponies bombarded her with annoyed grunts and damning looks as she ripped her way through the crowd, but Serenade did her best not to care. Her focus split between keeping Cadance safe and trying to spot the fleeing filly. She had expected to be overwhelmed by Cadance’s crying, but somehow the foal was giggling instead. Serenade shot her gaze down and saw Cadance beaming up at her, the wind tousling her exposed mane. Despite herself, Serenade managed a smile and kept on running.

It wasn’t long before she hit the edge of the fairgrounds. She swerved around the wooden barricade and halted on the street corner. The roads here were far emptier, and it didn’t take long to spot the filly—she had stopped just a short ways ahead after rounding the corner. Slumped over the curb and panting harshly, she clutched her backpack close to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

Walking in measured steps, Serenade approached the filly. She stopped a good few trots away and said, “Excuse me?”

The filly gasped. Her panic-struck eyes locked onto Serenade and she shuffled backwards along the street. Her tears sprung loose, flowing in rivulets over her flushed cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie.” Serenade offered her most delicate smile and chanced another step closer. “I just want to talk. What’s your name?”

The filly said nothing. She stared up at Serenade, unblinking and quivering from head to tail.

“Well, my name is Serenade. You can call me Seri if you want. My friends do.” Another step—the filly inched away. Serenade sat on the curb, still a couple body-lengths away from her. “This is my first time at one of these faires, you know. How much do I stand out?” She punctuated it with a light giggle.

Still, the filly kept quiet. As Serenade watched her, though, she saw her eyes shift slightly downward.

Following her gaze, Serenade looked down at Cadance and smirked—the foal was intensely preoccupied nibbling her own hoof. “Oh, yes. And this is Cadance.” She flicked her head in a sharp motion, allowing her ponytail to dangle just above Cadance’s nose. The foal’s hoof popped out of her mouth and she watched the ponytail sway hypnotically. Serenade’s eyes darted back to the filly, and she gestured with her head. “Did you want to come say hello?”

The filly sniffled. She rose to her trembling hooves and took a strained half-step towards Serenade before freezing on the spot—as if two equal forces were pulling her in entirely opposite directions. She bit her lip.

Her eyes screwed shut. She collapsed to her haunches and sobbed in short, timid bursts. Her backpack tumbled to the ground, and a few apples rolled onto the sidewalk.

Something twisted in Serenade’s heart. “Hey,” she said, closing the distance. She instinctively reached one arm out and huddled the filly close to her shoulder—the filly didn’t resist, continuing to cry as she pressed her forehead against Serenade. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re alright.”

Now that she was closer, Serenade examined the filly more carefully. Her mane and tail were clumped in places, and she smelled of sweat and sick. Parts of her body were pallid and frail—she could feel the curves in the filly’s spine as she held her. It made Serenade’s heart sink, and she said nothing more as the filly cried.

Eventually, the filly found her voice. “Why…” She choked out another sob. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Serenade said. She pulled back and tried to meet the filly’s eyes, but her head remained down. “I just want to help.”

“B-but, mama said…” The filly wiped her eyes with a forehoof. “Mama said unicorns are bad. They’re the reason we had to move, and why papa’s never home…”

Serenade suppressed the urge to bite her lip. Instead she caressed the filly’s shoulder. “Not all unicorns are like that.” Her eyes trickled down to the apples scattered across the pavement. “Were you getting those for your mama?”

The filly nodded. “Mama’s sick. So’s Squash. They told me to get as many as I could, but w-we don’t have enough money, a-and—” A hiccup cut her off. She fell forward against Serenade and continued weeping.

Gently rubbing the filly’s back, Serenade felt a burning weight in the pit of her stomach. She looked down at the apples again—four had spilled out, and the backpack held another five or six, she estimated. She hadn’t heard the vendor’s prices, but she knew apples weren’t that expensive. Five bits would be more than enough.

Or, said a voice, crammed away in the back of her head, you could just let her go. These apples mean more to her than that salespony would ever understand. He won’t even notice they’re gone. Don’t waste your bits on this.

Serenade smothered the voice, burying it deep in her subconscious. She traced her hoof up and along the filly’s face, catching her chin and guiding her eyes up. She smiled into the filly’s tired face and said, “What’s your name, sweetie?”

She sniffled. “Primrose…”

“Tell you what, Primrose. How’s about you and I go back into the faire for a minute? You can apologize to the stallion, and I’ll buy those apples for you. Does that sound okay?”

Primrose’s eyes dilated, and she shook her head. “Uh-uh, I can’t go back there. He’ll be mad at me!”

“He might be,” Serenade said, “but you know what? I bet he’ll be even more impressed that you came back and told him the truth. And if he does get mad, I’ll be there too. I’ve got your back.” She winked, although it felt strange on her face.

“Uh…” Primrose looked back and forth between Serenade and the apples. She looked to Cadance too—the foal gave a happy squeal and reached a hoof out.

For the first time, Primrose smiled. She touched her own hoof to Cadance’s. “Okay.”

The knot in Serenade’s gut twisted and tightened with each step. Somehow she felt even more out of place than before as she guided Primrose back through the faire—she was certain that the crowds had grown denser, too. She did her level best to focus on Cadance’s soft breathing, ignoring all of the probing looks.

She glanced down at Primrose. The filly walked in small trots, her backpack weighing down her posture. Serenade nudged her. Primrose flinched and looked up into Serenade’s grinning face. She gave a tiny smile of her own before turning away again. Serenade’s smile dipped.

The two of them eventually made their way back to the fruit stall. The vendor had not slowed his sales pitch, and he was red in the face from bellowing. Some ponies loitered nearby, but none seemed to be paying him much mind. For that, Serenade was grateful—the last thing she needed was more attention.

As they drew close, the stallion met Serenade’s eyes with a broad smile—she could tell it was wooden, but it was still a relief. “Ay-howdy there, Miss!” he shouted. “Folks’d told me there was a unicorn in the midst. And a damn gorgeous one, I see! Ha! Well, thank’n ya for gracin’ my humble little shop. What can I do ya for? Maybe some vitamin C for the littl’un?” He lifted an orange at her.

Serenade faked a giggle and said, “Oh, you’re too kind! But I’m afraid I’m not buying today. No, it’s just that little Primrose here wanted to tell you something.” She looked to the filly and gestured her forward. “Go on, sweetie.”

“Uh…” she said, a distinct tremble undercutting her voice. For a minute she just remained rooted in place, staring up at the stallion like he were the end of the world.

“Aw, c’mon now, kiddo!” The stallion plodded out from behind his makeshift counter and ducked as close to Primrose’s level as he could. “I know I’m a mite big, but you don’t gotta be scared o’ me! Whatcha got?”

Primrose’s mouth sealed in a taut line. She methodically reached around to her backpack and plopped it in front of herself. “I, ah… um…” She unlatched the top and flipped it open, revealing the fruit within. Instantly her eyes squeezed shut and she winced away, as if bracing for a strike.

The stallion’s smile waned as he looked into the backpack. “’Fraid I don’t understand, kid. These mine?”

“Sorry!” Primrose squeaked. She darted away from the backpack and half-hid behind Serenade.

Frowning at the filly, Serenade turned to the stallion and cleared her throat. “She, er, took them, when you weren’t looking.”

The stallion’s face clicked in clarity. “I see,” he said, standing back up.

“But!” Serenade pushed the bag back to Primrose. “She really needs them, you see. So what do I owe you?” The clasp on her saddlebag flicked open.

The stallion turned to her and raised an eyebrow. His mouth hung slack for a moment before he said, “You’re payin’ for ’em?”

His words shot through her more fiercely than they should have. Serenade blinked back whatever emotion had been manifesting in her eyes. “Yes, I am. Is that so strange?” Not waiting for his answer, she pulled up the lip of her saddlebag and asked, “How much?”

It seemed as though the vendor couldn’t process what she’d said—like she’d spoken another language. His gaze shifted between Serenade and Primrose, his eyes narrowing as though he were trying to solve a puzzle.

Serenade stepped over, placing herself more directly between him and the filly, which seemed to snap him back to his senses. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head, then his smile returned. “Yeah, o’ course! Before anything though, how ‘bout I top up that li’l bag for ya?” He reached into his stall and produced a woven basket full of yet more apples. “Looked like y’could do wit’ another couple!”

Primrose poked her head out from behind Serenade—a watery film coated her eyes. “Really?”

He nodded slowly. “Least I can do for such a brave young’un. Took a lotta courage t’come back ’ere, y’know.”

Primrose stepped back out and took the backpack in her mouth. She gingerly stepped up to the stallion, who proceeded to put three more apples in the bag, filling it nearly beyond capacity. The filly beheld her newly full bag like it were made of gold. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “Th-thank you!”

“Anytime.” The stallion’s smile broadened. “But jus’ ask next time, kid. I always got spares, and y’don’t wanna make a habit o’ makin’ your sister pay for it.”

Serenade pursed her lips. “She’s, um, not my sister.”

With a tilt of his head, the stallion stared up at her. “Foalsitter?”

“Just friends,” she said, maybe a bit too quickly. “At any rate, how much?”

The look that he gave her skirted the line of understanding and enigma. He rose back to standing. “Two bits’ll do.”

Nodding curtly, Serenade whisked all five bits out of her bag and held them mid-air. Two of them fluttered over to the stallion’s counter, landing with a hollow thud. The other three floated in the dull hum of her magic, and her eyes drifted down Primrose.

She stood transfixed by the apples in her bag, her eyes full of innocent awe. Yet something still felt off. Sections of the filly’s fur remained caked in sweat and dirt, and she was so thin—the apples would only go so far.

Serenade’s eyes roamed back to her three remaining bits.

Don’t.

In an instant she became intensely aware of Cadance’s weight in her arm. Glancing down, the foal was nearly asleep again, her eyes lulling between open and not—Serenade had been unconsciously rocking her back and forth for some time. Despite all that had gone wrong in the past day alone, despite every misfortune great and small, the foal could still smile as she drifted off, cradled in her mother’s embrace. She was still safe.

Serenade smiled. What difference would three bits make, really?

“Primrose.” She knelt down beside the filly. “Listen, I…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I want you to take these bits, okay?”

The filly’s attention ripped away from her backpack. At first she stared up at the bits with the same glossy-eyed wonder, but it shifted to Serenade a moment later. “Are you sure?”

Serenade had to torture the next word out, but eventually she said, “Yes. I’m sure. I know it’s not much, but I want you to take it and use it for yourself—whatever makes you happy, okay?” The bits hovered closer to Primrose but stopped just out of reach. “On one condition, though.”

Primrose’s face fell. “What?”

Serenade smirked. “Don’t steal any more apples, okay?”

Primrose’s mouth curved up in a smile—small, fragile, but there. She threw herself around Serenade’s free foreleg. “Thank you, Seri,” she whispered.

“Oh, pfft,” somepony said. The voice was loud and sharp, cleaving through the faire’s music like hot iron through flesh. “Isn’t that the sweetest thing? Giving a poor little urchin your pocket change. How very generous of you.”

Serenade’s attention snapped sideways. A lanky grey stallion stood there, glaring at her through half-frame glasses. A mare had one arm hooked to his, and she stared daggers at the back of his head. Keeping her eyes on the stallion, Serenade rose to her hooves and said, “Pardon?”

The mare pulled at his arm. “Don’t make a scene, Char. Let’s go.”

“Nah,” he said, slipping out of the mare’s grip. “I don’t think so. I’m not getting another chance, so I’ma give this two-bit unicorn hussy a piece of my mind.”

Cold tension wracked Serenade’s body. “Excuse me?” she said, recoiling a step. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know you.”

“Yeah, and why should you?” he said, advancing on her. “I’m just a lowly mudhoof, aren’t I? Isn’t that what you lot call us? You got a lotta nerve coming to this stretch of the city, ’specially to one of our faires—dressed to the nines, no less!”

Serenade shrank in on herself with each word. She tried looking anywhere but at the stallion, but every pony within earshot had their eyes locked on the commotion. She did her best to cover her scarf and mumbled, “It’s just a little makeup…”

“Yes!” said the mare at his side. She stepped between the two of them and gave Serenade a too-wide smile. “And you look lovely, Miss. So sorry about him. We were just—”

The stallion shoved her aside and gave her a withering look. “Stay outta this, Rad. I’m just saying what everypony else won’t.” He pushed himself into Serenade’s face. “You think you can get away just waltzing on through here, looking like that, not buying a damn thing, and acting like you’re all high and mighty cause you gave a kid three measly bits?! Even I woulda given her more!”

Serenade squeezed her eyes shut, feeling heat gathering behind them. “It’s all I have!”

“Ha! Fat chance. What? Daddy cut you off?”

“Stop it!” Her horn flared with a heavy whump. Grunts, gasps, and a single shriek followed, as well as a wooden crunch. Cadance began wailing and kicking, her screams the only sound left alongside the faire’s upbeat music. Serenade opened her eyes.

Pale yellow light extended from her horn in a wispy thread, connecting to a magic dome that had formed around her. She could see the mare and stallion sprawled across the pavement in a dazed heap just beyond the barrier—the crowd behind them had backed off considerably. Whirling around, she saw that the edge of her shield had clipped the fruit stall, crushing the wooden corner. Primrose and the vendor stood just past the magic’s edge, staring at her with wide eyes.

Serenade fell to her haunches and lifted a hoof to her mouth, shaking. The barrier fizzled away.

“And that,” said the stallion’s dark voice, “is why you unicorns should keep to yourselves. Arrogant, spoiled, dangerous—”

“Sir!” boomed the fruit vendor. He marched past Serenade and presumably over to the stallion—Serenade didn’t dare look. She numbly rocked Cadance in one arm, staring through Primrose. “I think we’ve heard quite ’nuff outta you. Now ’less you want things to get ugly, I sugges’ you follow your mare’s advice ’n get goin’.”

“Are you joking? She coulda seriously hurt me! I have a right to—”

Something cracked—like bone on bone. Primrose gasped. Serenade winced and clutched Cadance closer.

“I said go.”

The crowd’s silence lingered—a corpse of the faire’s din. Serenade hid her head down and blocked out everything but herself and Cadance—the foal’s face still warped by horrible shrieks and puffy red eyes. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. She poured her everything into soothing the child, caressing her and inundating her with soft, wordless utterances. At first it seemed helpless, Cadance trying to wriggle free and staring up at her mother in fractured expressions. Yet time wore on, and through some combination of love and exhaustion, the foal began to settle. She buried her face in Serenade’s chest and continued sobbing in light bursts. Serenade released a shaky sigh, and her own tears rolled free.

A hoof on her shoulder pulled her from the moment. She looked over at the vendor as he frowned at her. “Y’alright, Miss?”

She blinked at him and looked away. The faire had regained a veil of normalcy—although nopony seemed to be looking her way, for better or worse. She glanced to the fruit stand and saw an empty space where a filly should have been. “Where’s Primrose?”

“I sent her home. Shame she had t’ see all that. She wanted me t’ make sure you were gon’ be okay.” He sat beside her—his bulk dwarfed Serenade’s small form. “Never gotch’er name. Mine’s Cortland.”

“Serenade,” she said, her eyes still locked on where Primrose had been.

“Well, Miss Serenade, I’m real sorry.”

She turned to him. Cortland’s head was bowed, and he scuffed the ground absently with one hoof. “Why are you sorry? I mean, you were the one who finally stopped that… that…”

“Arse.” He shook his head. “Shoulda done it sooner, ’fore it got outta hoof.” He looked ahead at his fruit stand.

Serenade followed his gaze and landed on the splintered corner of the wooden counter—now that she looked closer, it had charred in places too. Her stomach did a painful flip. “I’m the one who should be sorry. He was right.” She hugged Cadance tighter. “I shouldn’t have come through here.”

“Y’got as much a right to be here as anypony—more, if’m honest.” Cortland stood and lumbered back to his fruit stall. He started rummaging behind the counter and said, “I know it prolly ain’t much to a pony like you, Miss Serenade, but…” He hefted a small barrel onto his back—the top brimmed with apples and pears. He grinned—a real one. “On the house.”

All at once, Serenade felt like laughing, crying, and screaming. Instead, she stood. “Cortland… I can’t. After all the trouble I’ve caused—”

“Take it.” He took the barrel and set it in front of her. “A peck’s the leas’ I can offer ya. Ma always said I had a knack for readin’ ponies, and if’n I’m readin’ you right—” He nudged the container closer “—y’need it more’n me.”

She looked from Cortland to the barrel. Apples and pears filled it entirely, their skins gleaming like ambrosia in the sunlight. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had fruit that hadn’t come from a can. And with that thought, she realized just how massively, utterly, impossibly hungry she was. The sight of the food was nearly enough for her to break down and weep all over again.

Holding back the temptation to inhale an apple that very second, she rose to her hooves and walked over to Cortland. She gave him a half-hug with her free arm and smiled. “Thank you. You have seriously no idea how much this means.”

“Reckon I don’t,” he said, returning the embrace. “But I hope it makes a difference.”

“It will. Definitely.” She pulled back and gave him a quick nod, which he returned. Nothing more was said as Serenade lifted the barrel in her magic—heavier than she had anticipated—and made her was quietly back to the stroller.

Serenade made an effort to put Cadance back into the carriage, but the foal whimpered and clung to her chest. Her heart ached, and Serenade planted a little kiss behind Cadance’s ear. She indulged in the baby’s warmth and continued cradling her.

The cask of fruit just barely fit in the undercarriage, but it eventually squeezed into place. Serenade pulled a red apple from it and held it in mid-air, watching it like it were a dream she could wake from at any moment. She bit into its crisp hide. Sweet juice filled her mouth instantly, and bursts of freshness sprinkled her mouth each time she chewed the morsel. Nothing in her life had tasted better.

She took in the faire one last time as she finished off the apple. To a bystander, it would seem as though nothing at all had happened—the music still bounced, ponies still laughed, and the air remained awash with smells of fresh or fried foods. New stories blended together in the cacophony, uniquely defining the moment. Yet perhaps more important were not the stories themselves but how they lived on once they had been told. Stories that continued only in the silent places nopony cared to look. The story of the filly who had left home to tend to her sick family. The story of the fruit vendor who sat solemnly by his wares. The story of the stallion whose blood stained the pavement, and whose words stained the air. The story of the mare who had only wanted to listen but had not been able to keep herself out of the narrative. And the story of her child, who deserved better.

Swallowing the last of the fruit, Serenade looked skyward. The sun loomed directly overhead like a great judging eye. She pushed the carriage along and left the faire behind. Her day had only just begun.

Author's Note

Proofread by Absolution.

Chapter I – Vinegar

Rain scheduled for 4:30. BE HOME BY 3:30. Bring vinegar just in case.

Serenade flipped her day planner shut and slid it into her saddlebag. She leaned back against the cold bench and looked past the autumn trees across the street. A clock tower loomed over the houses just a few blocks away—three twenty-five. And as though on cue, a pair of pegasi flew through her vision pushing dark, ominous clouds skyward.

Part of her wanted to yell out to the pegasi—beg them to delay the rain. That would never work, though. Trying to postpone the weather was like telling the sun not to rise; you could only do it with power, influence, or a really good reason.

Listening carefully, Serenade heard her foal still sound asleep in the carriage next to her. With a light sigh, she levitated her saddlebags onto her lap. She unclasped one and peeked inside. Amid the fabric-tinted purple light she saw a bottle of milk, a small vial of vinegar, a pack of cotton swabs, the pair of pearl earrings she hadn’t been willing to sell, and precisely twenty-one bits. Some patches of designer makeup still stained the bag’s fabric. Frowning, she grabbed the vinegar and a cotton swab in her magic and shut the bag.

Crisp, earthy air filled her nose as she inhaled one last time, savouring the brisk, autumnal smell for all it was worth. She then uncorked the vial, and the swab slid in with all the practice and precision of a seamstress threading her needle. Once the cotton was thoroughly soaked, Serenade pulled the swab out and dabbed the hair around her nostrils. Pungent acidity instantly overwhelmed her senses, and she cringed hard. Better than the alternative, she reminded herself.

A school bell rang, and Serenade snapped to her hooves. She pulled the baby carriage with her as she stepped over to a gap in the chain-link fence. Her heartbeat quickened when she turned to face the elementary school. With her breath caught between her teeth, she waited.

A tidal wave of colour poured from the front doors as fillies and colts flooded into the field. Serenade scanned the sea of tiny manes, her focus never lingering for very long. She’d know the filly when she saw her.

The crowd finally dispersed, and Serenade found the hazel braid she’d been hunting. The cream-coloured filly was waving goodbye to two young unicorns, a big smile on her face. Serenade felt her eyes getting hot and her throat clenching. Her hoof shot skyward and whipped about violently, making some semblance of a wave. “Melody!” she cried.

Melody turned to face her, and the filly’s eyes grew nearly as wide as her head. “Serenade?!”

Hearing that voice for the first time in so many months… It had been far too long since she’d stood at the end of this path.

“Seri!” Melody’s voice cracked. She broke into a full gallop, her eyes drowning in tears. Serenade half-ducked, half-collapsed to meet her. She opened her arms wide and braced herself as Melody plowed into her, throwing her tiny hooves around Serenade’s neck. Serenade clutched her as though she might vanish at any instant. Everything about Melody came rushing back in a flurry. Her weight, her feel, her warmth, her breath—everything was so familiar that it hurt.

Everything except the smell. She smelled like vinegar.

Melody buried her face deep into Serenade’s shoulder and muffle-said, “I missed you so much, Seri…”

“I missed you too, Melody. I’m sorry I left for so long. I’m so, so sorry.” She squeezed Melody tighter. The simple act of hugging her made all of her problems blur into great nothings. And when the hug did eventually end, Serenade remembered herself and smiled wider. “There’s someone else here who wants to see you too, Melody,” she whispered.

Melody gasped and threw her head around, her braid whooshing through the air. “Windy?! Is Windy here?!”

Serenade’s smile faltered as reality hammered through her. A storm was coming, everything smelled like vinegar, and she needed to get home. But not yet, she thought. I need this.

She set Melody down and shook her head. “No, not Windy. Somepony even more special.” She stood up and levitated Melody onto her back. “Melody,” she whispered, stepping closer to the baby carriage, “meet your niece.”

Together they looked inside and saw a tiny foal at rest. Her body was huddled in a cocoon of blankets, but her smiling, pink face stood out. A puff of mane swirled around the side of her head in three colours—purple, pink, and yellow. The blankets rose and fell in rhythm with her small breaths. For a moment, Serenade lost herself as she watched the filly sleep, and everything was right in the world.

A quiet intake of air pulled her attention away. Melody’s face poked over Serenade’s shoulder, and she beheld the foal in sheer wonder. “What’s her name?”

Serenade reached into the carriage and swept a stray hair from the foal’s face. “Cadenza,” she said. “You can call her Cadance.”

“Why were you gone so long, Seri?” Melody asked, trotting beside Serenade as they rounded a corner. “Mom and Dad never walk me home, and walking by myself is sooo boring.” She frowned at her hooves. “You and Windy always made it better, but then you stopped coming. Why?”

Serenade split her focus between watching Cadance and the cloud cover darkening overhead. “It’s complicated,” she sighed. “Well, not really, I guess. But it’s still something you don’t need to worry about. All you need to know is that something… happened. Six months ago, on my seventeenth birthday. You remember that, right?”

Melody beamed and gained a little bounce in her step. “Yup! I made you that special birthday card at school. I got Madame Presto to enchant it and everything!”

“And it’s still sitting on my bedside table.” Serenade chuckled—something she had deeply missed doing, she realized. “But even though that was a wonderful day, something not-so-wonderful happened that night.” She stared distantly ahead. “I had to get away for a while.”

“What happened?”

Serenade shook her head. “You don’t need to know.”

“But—”

“Melody.” Serenade came to a stop, careful not to jostle the baby carriage. “Listen, sweetie. There are some things you just aren’t ready to hear about, and this is one of them. Someday, when you’re older, I’ll tell you. Promise.”

Melody shrank and looked up at Serenade through warbly eyes. “Big Sister Promise?”

Despite everything, Serenade smirked. She stooped down and nuzzled the side of Melody’s head. “The biggest Big Sister Promise that a big sister can promise!” Using her magic, Serenade moved the tip of her ponytail to Melody’s nose and flicked it gently. Melody giggled.

“Stop it!” she said between laughs. “That tickles!”

“You did always love that when your were younger.” Serenade pulled away, wrapped the baby carriage in her magic again, and continued down the street. “So are you still doing well in school?”

“Yuh-huh!” Melody chirped, bobbing her head like a paint-shaker. “Madame Presto says I’m doing a lot better with my magic than last year, and I got the highest score on our magic terminology test last week!”

“That’s awesome!” Serenade said, leading Melody across the street. “I loved those little quizzes when I was in school. What kind of terms did you have to define? Semi-permeable thaumic node? Primordial leyline? Essentia Hypoxia?”

“Seri, your geek is showing.”

After a quick analysis of the conversation, Serenade realized that her inner geek had, in fact, been showing. She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. You know how I get about magical theory.” Instead of crossing the next street, Serenade guided herself and Cadance around the corner toward the market district.

“Uh, Seri?” Melody said, her hoof dangling over the street. “Home is this way.”

Serenade grinned over her shoulder. “But the ice cream stand is this way. Unless of course, you don’t want any ice cream.” She shrugged and kept walking. “More for me.”

Melody was by her side in a flash. “I thought ice cream was only for special occasions!”

“I’d say this counts,” Serenade said, smiling softly at Cadance. “Anything else new lately? School, friends, Mom and Dad? I’m all ears.”

“Lemme think.” Melody tapped one hoof on her chin as her bottom lip jutted out—clearly very deep in thought. “Oh!” she blurted. “Maps!”

Serenade raised an eyebrow. “Maps?”

“Maps!” Melody hopped. “Dad got me this real big map book for my birthday last month. He was all like, ‘Make sure you study the map of the city, Melodious. You don’t wanna get lost on your way home from school like a big dumb idiot, Melodious. Stop playing with my moustache, Melodious!’” Serenade stifled a giggle at the impersonation. “At first I thought it was dumb, but maps are actually really cool! All the neat places with all the silly names and all the different ways to get to the neat places. Geography class is the best now!”

“That’s… very you,” Serenade said. “Still, cool! I’m glad you found something to be passionate about.”

Melody started skipping, her braid bouncing to her own personal rhythm. “I’m super good at it, too. I memorized the whole map of Elmshire, then the one for the whole entire country! Next I’m gonna try to memorize someplace far away, like Equestria. That place sounds neat.”

“Memorized the whole city, huh?” Serenade peered up at a street sign: Mustang Avenue. “Okay then, smarty pants. What’s the fastest way from here to the Elmshire Contemporary Art Gallery?”

“Well…” Melody pulled in a mighty breath, sucking in air until she seemed fit to explode. Then she said, “You gotta go west down Mustang Avenue for six blocks so that you’ll be on the Fillibuster Thoroughfare that leads all the way across town and you follow it north towards the entertainment district for seventeen blocks exactly and on the corner there you’ll see this big flashy building called the Bridlehorn Theater which is right across the street from Swan Song’s Amphitheater but you don’t cross the street to the amphitheater instead you follow Clopton Boulevard west for two blocks then cross the street and you’ll be at the corner of this big field called Cantering Queens Park and if you cut across the field to the northwest you’ll be just across the street from the Elmshire Contemporary Art Gallery just like you wanted!” She came to a stop, smiling wide and panting hard. “Gimme a challenge next time, Seri!” she wheezed.

Serenade blinked, and blinked again. “Wow. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you memorized the whole map, huh?”

Melody beamed. “Everything from Augur’s Aisle to the Zircon District!”

“Impressive.” The sisters rounded another corner and found their destination—a colourful little wagon sat halfway down the sidewalk, a portly stallion standing next to it. “What kind of ice cream do you want, Melody?”

“The usual.” Melody’s eyes suddenly lit up. “But can I get a double scoop?!”

A pang of regret washed through her, but still Serenade said, “Of course!” She did some quick mental math, recalling that she only had twenty-one bits on her. Twenty-one bits, period, she lamented. She shook the thought and approached the ice cream vendor with a light smile. “Good afternoon!”

“What can I do ya for?” the stallion grumbled, not even looking their way.

“A double scoop of strawberry swirl and a single of vanilla, please.” She magicked open her saddlebag and levitated out nine dull bits.

“Eighteen bits.”

Half of the bits fell back into her bag as Serenade’s magic flickered. She gawked at the stallion. “What? Last time we came it was only three bits per scoop!”

The stallion jerked his head to a sign on the cart. 6 bits = 1 scoop. “Times change, lady. Gotta make a living somehow. Eighteen bits.”

Serenade sighed through her nose and frowned. She looked to her side. Melody wasn’t paying attention—the filly was standing on her hind hooves and peeking into Cadance’s carriage. “Fine,” Serenade mumbled, her gaze frozen on her sister. “Just the double scoop of strawberry, then.”

The stallion shrugged. “Twelve bits.”

Serenade hovered the money over and turned away as the stallion prepared the treat. She stepped over to Cadance’s carriage and knelt down next to Melody. They both looked at Cadance. The foal’s blanket had drooped a little, so Serenade readjusted it. Cadance wiggled in her sleep and settled back into the blanket. “Isn’t she the sweetest?” Serenade whispered.

“Where’s her horn?” Melody asked.

Giggling, Serenade said, “She doesn’t have a horn, silly. She’s not a unicorn like us. She’s a pegasus.”

Melody gasped. “Like Windy!”

The name punched her in the gut, and Serenade bit her cheek. “Yeah. Just like Windy.”

“Oh, I bet her wings are just so tiny and pink and cute!” Melody stared up at Serenade with big, hopeful eyes. “Can I see them?”

“Maybe when she’s awake, okay? Right now she needs some sleep, so let’s just try to be quiet and leave her—”

“Strawberry swirl!” the vendor bellowed, although they were the only ponies remotely within earshot. “Double scoop!”

Serenade took the ice cream cone in her magic. “Thank you,” she said. She hovered the frozen treat down to Melody and smirked. “A double scoop of strawberry swirl as per your request, milady.” She bowed.

Melody laughed. She offered her own dignified bow in return. “Why thank you, kind miss.” Serenade chuckled. These were the moments she had missed.

Melody suddenly shot up and let out a squeal of excitement. “I bet I can even carry the ice cream all by myself this time, Seri! I’ve been practicing lots. Watch!” The filly widened her stance and glared at the ice cream. She squeezed her eyes shut, and her horn came alight with a pale green aura. The same aura illuminated around the ice cream cone, and it hovered in place.

The magic winked out not a moment later, and the ice cream went plummeting. A yellowish aura caught the treat just before it impacted the ground. Allowing herself to release the breath she’d apparently been holding, Serenade said, “You’ve definitely improved, but why don’t I hold it for you this time?”

Melody shrugged. “’Kay.” The two of them started back down the sidewalk toward the residential district. Serenade hovered Melody’s ice cream and pushed Cadance’s carriage in her magic simultaneously.

A glance up at the sky quickened Serenade’s pace just a little. The clouds had grown thick and dark. “Let’s hurry, Melody. We should get you home before the rain hits.”

“But I love the rain!” Melody inhaled a big whiff and smiled. “It’s so much fun to play puddle jump! And the rainy smell reminds me of Windy.”

Serenade inhaled, absorbing the still-powerful scent of vinegar. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

They stopped beside a thick, well-trimmed hedge. Serenade quickly looked about, making sure they were truly alone. “Okay,” she said, looking down at Melody. “You remember what to tell Mom and Dad?”

Melody chomped the last bit of waffle cone from the air and nodded. “Yeah, but do I have to, Seri? Lying always feels so bad.”

“Lies aren’t always bad, Melody. Sometimes it’s easier for ponies to be happy if not everypony knows the truth, and this is one of those times. Now, what do you say to Mom and Dad?” Melody sighed and hung her head. A few seconds of dismal silence passed, like the moment before a horrible truth is told. Serenade knelt down in front of Melody and settled her hooves on the filly’s shoulders. “This is important, Melody.”

“I’m late coming home because I stayed after school to finish some homework,” Melody recited in a flat voice. “Don’t mention you. Don’t mention Windy. Don’t even mention the walk home.”

Serenade smiled and wrapped Melody in a soft hug. “That’s my girl.”

“Can I tell them about Cadance?”

Ice shot up Serenade’s limbs. She held Melody at arm’s length and firmly shook her head. “No. You can’t. You can’t say anything about her. You remember how bad things got when I told them I was having a foal in the first place, right?”

Melody kept her head down. “Yeah…”

Pursing her lips, Serenade moved a hoof and tried to tilt Melody’s chin up, but the filly jerked her head sideways. Serenade sighed. “I know this must be so hard for you, Melody. Trust me, I hate it too. But this is how things have to be, at least for now, okay? I made some mistakes, and now—”

“It’s not a mistake!” Melody cried. She whipped her head up and glared at Serenade through firm, wet eyes. “It can’t be a mistake! Don’t you dare say it is! You love Cadance, and now I love her too! How can anypony say that’s wrong?! Mom and Dad are the wrong ones! They… They…” Melody hiccupped into a sob.

Serenade pulled her sister in close. She stroked Melody’s mane and worked her mouth silently, trying to say anything, but words failed her. The filly sobbed into her shoulder, and Serenade felt heat building around her own eyes. She squeezed Melody tighter and simply whispered, “I’m sorry.” The sisters clung to one another for minutes. A cool autumn wind rolled over them.

“Take me with you,” Melody croaked. “I don’t wanna stay with Mom and Dad. I wanna come live with you and Windy and Cadance.”

The hug finally ended as Serenade pulled back and smiled down at Melody, wiping a hoof across her eyes as she steadied her breathing. “You know how much I would love that. But I can’t. Mom and Dad, they love you—I love you too much to do that.”

Melody shook her head. “If they really loved me, they’d let you come back home. They don’t care about me at all.”

Serenade grabbed Melody’s chin and forced her to meet her stare. “Don’t you ever say that, Melodious. Our parents love you more than anything. They only want what’s best for you, and no matter what you or I say, this is what they think is best, and they know better than either of us. Never doubt their love for a second, you hear me?”

Melody sniffled. “Okay…”

“I mean it, Melody. That love is more valuable than you realize.” Serenade peered past the bush at their side and saw the edge of her parents’ house. Her heart twisted. “Don’t lose it, Melody. Promise me.”

“I won’t,” Melody said, shaking her head. “Promise.”

At last, Serenade cracked a smile. “Good. Now let’s dry those tears before you head inside.” She levitated the tip of her ponytail up to Melody’s eyes and wiped away the moisture. Melody brought her own hoof up and rubbed at her eyes. “Feeling better?” Serenade asked.

“Just a little.”

“Alright.” Again, Serenade leaned forward and took Melody in her embrace. “I’ll walk you home again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. I can bring my map book to school tomorrow too and show you if you want.”

“I’d love that.”

The sisters held their embrace, and eventually Serenade had to force herself to let go. Melody propped herself up to look into Cadance’s carriage and whispered, “Bye, Cadance.” She turned to Serenade and smiled lightly. “Bye, Seri. See you tomorrow! Love you.”

Serenade returned the smile. “Love you too, Sis.”

With that, Melody trotted around the hedge and into her parents’ front yard. She took one last look over her shoulder at Serenade, then she cantered out of sight.

All the tension in Serenade’s body flooded away, and she collapsed to her haunches with a frown. She gazed past the hedge again and released a slow, rattled breath. She closed her eyes and listened as the breeze whistled through the leaves. She tried to inhale the scent of the freshly manicured lawns surrounding her, hoping to trigger some nostalgic memory, but all she got was vinegar.

She opened her eyes and looked sideways at Cadance. The foal still slept soundly beneath her blankets, an innocent smile defining her face. Serenade smiled. She stood, took the carriage in her magic, and walked off.

Serenade navigated mindlessly to the Topaz District. The line between the district and the rest of Elmshire could nearly be drawn straight on the ground. It began where the houses went crooked and the sidewalk turned to gravel. A distinct aroma of filth permeated the place, and although Serenade couldn’t smell it herself, just the memory of the scent was enough to make her nose crinkle.

Her gait slowed as she entered the district so as to keep Cadance’s carriage from jostling on the uneven ground. Serenade kept her head low and her eyes on Cadance, doing her very best to ignore the surroundings. Someone coughed from across the street, and another pony shouted something in the distance—just a few of the ambient noises she’d long become accustomed to.

Weaving through the narrow streets as quickly as she dared, Serenade rounded her usual corners on her way back home. Her gaze flicked ahead—a building that ran most of the street’s length stood ahead of her, a dozen brown doors marking its front. She kept her pace towards the condominiums.

“Afternoon, Miss Serenade,” said a voice like sandpaper. Serenade stopped and looked to the side at a sturdy old stallion who smiled her way. His coat was storm cloud grey, and his white tail was tangled and frayed like an old broom. A patchy black bowler sat over his mane.

Serenade spared him a smile. “Good afternoon, Mister Diamond.”

“I told ya a thousand times. You call me Dutch.”

“Only once you stop calling me ‘Miss.’ Just Serenade’s fine.”

Dutch Diamond shook his head. “Ain’t proper to a lady.” He smiled over at the baby carriage. He gestured and asked, “An’ how’s li’l Miss Cadance doing?”

“She’s fine. Enjoying her nap as always.” Serenade shot a look up at the black clouds looming overhead. “But she’ll be decidedly less happy if we don’t get home before the storm.”

Dutch gave a quick, curt nod. “Course. I just wanted to ask ya quick if y’can spare any bits today.”

Serenade’s heart took a nosedive. Nine bits, she reminded herself. That’s all you have. Don’t be an idiot. “Sorry, Mister Diamond, but—”

“Please, Miss Serenade.” He reached into a large bag at his side and pulled out a thick stack of papers. He held it close to his chest. “The novel’s nearly done. Just one more inkpot’ll do it, but I ain’t got enough. Four bits is all I’m asking.”

Serenade bit her lip. She looked from the manuscript to the stallion and back again. Finally she sighed and opened her saddlebag. “Only if you promise me that I’ll get the first copy of that novel when it’s finished.” She slowly levitated the bits out one by one.

Dutch flipped his hat off, revealing a wiry, white mane. He gave a slanted grin as the bits landed in his cap. “I’ll dedicate the whole damn thing to ya.”

A chuckle managed to escape Serenade’s lips. Muffled thunder clapped in the distance, and her smile instantly fell away. “I really do have to get going,” she said, mostly to herself. She grabbed Cadance’s carriage and trotted off. “Nice talking to you, Mister Diamond!” she called. If he made a reply, she didn’t hear it.

The condo doors were all shut tight, some of them not having been opened in years or longer. They were identical, and none of them had number markings anymore, but Serenade still located hers without issue. She glanced up at the door as she arrived, and what she saw there froze her dead.

A piece of paper was nailed to the door.

Serenade stood mid-step, paralyzed by the sight of the note. She closed her eyes and breathed a trembling breath. “Please,” she whispered. “Not today.” Leaving Cadance at the base of the stairs, Serenade made a slow march up to the door, her gaze locked to the ground. Each step felt heavier than the last, and it took a small eternity to finally reach the door. She lifted her head and read the note.

EVICTION NOTICE

48 HOURS

There was more to the notice, but those words were all she could focus on. She ripped the paper from her door and hovered it closer to her face. No matter how deeply she stared into them, the bold, black letters still said the same thing.

Serenade collapsed. She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head. The ambient hum of her magic and gentle whispers of the wind were all she could hear.

Thunder rolled in the distance. She gritted her teeth, and the magic holding the eviction notice burned a bright gold. The paper exploded into flame. Its ashes fell to her hooves, and she launched them from the landing with a primal scream. She dropped, cradling her head in her hooves, and wept in harsh, anguished waves.

A different shriek split the air, and Serenade was on her hooves in a heartbeat. She leapt down the stairs and ducked her head into the carriage, shushing Cadance even as tears leaked from her own eyes. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she cooed, forcing a smile. “It’s… I…” Cadance’s cries only grew louder.

Serenade bit her lip. She looked away, and a single sob wrenched from her chest. She reached into the carriage with her hooves and lifted Cadance out, holding the wailing foal close to her heart. She caressed Cadance in one arm and trotted up to her condo, magicking the door open. With a thought, she levitated the baby carriage in behind her and slammed the door, just as the storm’s first raindrops fell.

Author's Note

Proofread by Absolution.