...I'll Give It All to You
Babs Seed had never been afraid of windigoes, or at least, she shouldn’t have been. She’d left those childish fears behind along with everything else the minute tragedy struck, the minute she realized she’d have to live on her own. Even after other ponies had taken her into their lives, there’d always been other things to worry about. Fearsome figures, she knew then, took far more familiar shapes than the ghostly figures other fillies her age shuddered at.
In hindsight, perhaps that’d been why the windigo had come to her, and not to somepony else. It was far smaller than she imagined it’d be, nowhere near as large as the hulking dragons she learned about in school. Yet she could still remember staring at it in frozen awe, as if it was already working its magic. Seeing something, it seemed, was enough to make somepony really fear it.
However, as she looked into the blizzard beyond, she could recall one thing in particular--the windigo was hers. It’d bonded to her, made a deal with her, became her familiar--it’d never actually spoken to her, so the details weren’t quite clear. But what mattered was that, in the storm, Babs had managed to survive like always, with the windigo trailing her all the way. As the days blended into months, she was never quite sure what to do with her abilities, and so she wandered the lands of Equestria searching for some sign of life until it happened.
One of the villages, it turned out, still had a survivor. But any relief Babs might’ve had about finding a kindred spirit faded as soon as she saw his green mane, his yellow fur, his windigo.
Even still, all she could do was grunt in response. This was a stallion she knew how to deal with, an unknown voice inside her said, and somewhere, somehow, she’d met him before. She couldn’t remember anything before the windigo invasion, and yet seeing him brought her pure revulsion. In an instant, just long enough to glance at his face one last time, Babs found herself exploding with anger. And, strangely, purpose.
As the windigo stared strangely at her, she muttered, “I don’t want his spirit. I want him gone.”
Even she was surprised by the coldness of her voice as she said it, but she could already feel herself losing control. With a single wave of her hoof, her windigo sprinted towards the stallion with the orange on his flank.
That had to be his name, she figured, and names had power in this world. She struggled with the other part for a few seconds before coming to it by magic itself.
“Mosely Orange,” she pronounced with a voice that commanded beyond its years, “this ends now.”
As her eyes fused into his sight, bonded into his own, Babs Seed felt nothing but satisfaction. She couldn’t hear the words Mosely had whispered before she attacked. She couldn’t see the winds closing in around her. She couldn’t feel the ice molding her body until it was too late.
Her inner voice went into overdrive, and she realized it hadn’t been the first time he’d pulled something like this on her. His heart lacked the fire that hers had, and as long as it did, his windigo would always be stronger than hers. And, really, that should’ve been a good reason to fear windigoes all together.
Because, no matter how much they might seduce her with promises, they’d never get her any closer to beating somepony like him.
****
The dream had ended hours ago, yet Babs was only now starting to realize what had brought it back. In the heat of the moment, it’d seemed especially out of place, a nightmare the likes of which she hadn’t had in six months. Though she couldn’t say the stallion hadn’t crossed her mind before, Mosely hadn’t shown up in her dreams since the fateful trial, the last time he’d shown his face in civilization. Even though she’d been terrified out of her mind, she still spent the rest of the morning and the rest of the day digging up her old masks and making sure nopony she loved knew about the night before.
On any other occasion, she’d think herself above this sort of deception, especially since she and Coco were practically the most open and honest family in Equestria. But the minute Hearth’s Warming Eve came along, she’d made a promise to herself: no worries, no drama, and above all, no Mosely. It would’ve been an impossible task just a matter of months ago, but for the most part, it’d gone off without a hitch until last night. Until yesterday, when she came across the one thing she never thought she’d see.
Once school got out, Babs retraced her steps to a boutique just a few blocks away from Coco’s theatre, where a few ties had caught her eye. Just gazing at the one from yesterday had brought her goosebumps all season long--it was made from perfectly woven jet black silk and had tiny red-and-blue stripes that matched Coco’s mane. After saving up her allowance for weeks, she’d finally gone in and bought the thing. With all that in mind, she told herself, there was really no reason for going back there. Yet, somehow, she still couldn’t help but pause and trot straight in, as if under a siren’s spell.
Babs only had to look at the back table, and the shopkeeper knew just what to do. He pulled a delicate red saddlebag out of the display and let the filly try it on again, just like the day before. Not even he knew where it’d come from, just that it’d shown up one day a month or so ago already embroidered with a particular cutie mark. One that, as it so happened, was Babs’ own.
After all, that’d been what drawn her to it in the first place. From Coco’s experience in the fashion world, Babs knew that saddlebags were often custom-ordered, completely blank until the colt or filly received their cutie mark. There could’ve been any number of rational reasons for such a thing showing up in the shop--Coco might’ve ordered her one for Hearth’s Warming Eve, and the shopkeeper had simply been too dense to hide it. But from the way the velvet caressed her back, she knew that the material was too exquisite for even Coco’s tastes.
And that, in turn, had to have been where that crazy dream had come from. When she’d reached out to open it before, she’d found a photograph of her old family--a tiny filly in a green Hearth’s Warming dress, an orange mare in a reporter’s hat, a yellow stallion in a tuxedo. Like many things in Equestria, it was something that shouldn’t have existed, a piece of time that’d been Mosely’s greatest shame. All this time, Babs had thought for sure he would’ve destroyed any traces of these moments.
But today brought an even stranger discovery. Instead of the photograph she’d come to expect, there was a letter. One that’d clearly been signed and dated from another time, but one whose message rang true all the same.
I have a feeling that we’ll be separated before you get your cutie mark, and if you do, I want this to be a reminder. No matter what happens between the two of us, or how much high society gets in our way, I want you to know that I will always be proud of you, and you can always come back to our house for Hearth’s Warming Eve.
It went on and on, waxing poetic about promises that had already expired. The date had been just a few months before the kidnapping, the last Hearth’s Warming she’d spent with Mosely. A date that, by all means, she should have forgotten.
In any other case, Babs would’ve known that the letter was just more of Mosely’s pretty lies, an indication that he’d been planning her abduction for far longer than anypony could’ve realized. In any other case, she would’ve been satisfied with Coco’s care and known that, no matter how much he talked about the two of them being “forced” apart, the decision had always been his choice and his alone.
Instead, Babs let the velvety saddlebag caress her fur, took the photo and letter out, and treated them like they were the finest treasures. The windigo crossed her mind yet again, reminding her of her real feelings, but the filly just stared at the mementos, almost sobbing at the realization.
Windigo summoners can only freeze the ponies they hate more than anything. And even after everything...I still miss him.
****
In the months that’d followed Mosely’s scheme, Babs had often been the one to comfort her mother, rather than the other way around. Ponies had asked about that a lot at first, but later, they figured such a thing was natural--mares like Coco were just more sensitive than others. Foals like Babs were supposed to get over things as quickly and smoothly as possible, and for the most part, she’d managed to jump through all the right steps. She’d cried herself to sleep the first week, forgotten about it, and moved on like a good life-hardened filly would.
Hearth’s Warming, though, made that whole thing at least ten times harder. It’d been three days, and Babs still couldn’t stop thinking about how Mosely should’ve been there, watching the lights and gazing through the trees. All she could do was chalk it up to the season, since she’d never spent one with Coco before, but deep down, her heart still doubted. As soon as that clock hit midnight on Hearth’s Warming Eve, would these dumb feelings stay the same? Was she actually close to forgiving the pony who’d caused her enough grief for three lifetimes?
On the third day, she forced herself to push on and moved straight past the shop, flooding her mind with positives as she did so. She and Bambi had finished their shopping and all of Coco’s presents were present and accounted for. Just thinking of the pun was enough to take her out of her train of thought, or at least, it would’ve been if it wasn’t for one other detail.
Somehow, even with her comparatively subpar acting skills, she’d managed to land the role of Smart Cookie in her school’s Hearth’s Warming play. She’d get to play one of the few ponies in the entire production with actual brain cells, not to mention one that several members of her family had played. Yet, with all her mulling over Mosely and excitement over getting the part, she hadn’t been able to memorize her last few lines.
Practicing in an actual Bridleway auditorium was a strange experience, to say the least, but over the last month or so, Babs had gotten used to the feeling. Most of the other actors--the good actors, she couldn’t help but mutter to herself--ignored her and went on with their own performances, and with Spellshock approaching its first anniversary, Babs figured that was understandable enough. Still, she scooted herself into the tiniest corner possible, hoping nopony could hear her reciting her lines--or get close enough to see the conflicting emotions on her face.
Just as she finished her final line, though, she heard a tiny clopping sound. Applause, but not the sort that the actors on stage received. All she had to do was look beside her, and the blue stallion by her side told her everything she needed to know.
“Scene?” she whispered. “Aren’t you supposed to be, you know, directing?”
“Any director worth his salt knows the job goes beyond the stage,” he replied. “Helping young actors with their roles is practically a public service for us.”
He placed a hoof to his chest, enunciating the entire statement as if in the middle of a performance. Once Babs stared at him skeptically, though, his cool expression faded as quickly as it’d appeared, and he gave his mane a few awkward shakes.
“All right, we were on break, and I noticed you had a script. Never thought I’d see you acting, but I figured I’d help all the same.”
“So how was I, then?”
While Babs imagined other foals her age would practically cringe at the thought of Bridleway’s biggest director judging her performance, she’d stopped taking the stallion seriously ages ago. For now, he was her mother’s eccentric coltfriend first, theatre sensation second. Besides, with only a few days before the play, she figured she needed all the help she could get.
“Pretty good,” he said. “I’ve seen enough Smart Cookies in my life for them all to blend together at some point, but yours stood out. I did get my cutie mark directing a Hearth’s Warming pageant, after all, and I’ll tell you that cast was some of the biggest bunch of slackers I’d ever seen. Anyway, to get back to you, I’d suggest working on your blocking a bit more, but other than that--”
Seeing nothing but confusion on the filly’s face, he added, “Move around more, I mean. Get out of that corner. Sometimes I forget not everypony speaks theatre.”
He blushed slightly and gently guided her towards a room she didn’t recognize, and even as he took care not to touch her flank, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Nopony stirred, and the chamber was so dark and musty that Babs had no clue what it was supposed to be, but once Scene flipped the switch, she knew exactly what she was getting into.
The room was a tiny facsimile of the auditorium Babs had come to see as a second home, complete with a stage nearly identical to the flashier one on the other side. With a slight cough, Scene took care to leave the door open, and she suspected it wasn’t just to let the stuffy air out. From the looks of things, she doubted anypony but him knew about the place to begin with.
“Are you sure about this?” Babs asked, looking from side to side. “I don’t really need that much more practice, and you should probably get back to--”
“You can’t act on a stage unless you practice on a stage,” Scene replied. “I admit the conditions aren’t quite the best in here, and the acoustics are as dreadful as anything built a hundred or so years ago, but I’ve been thinking of reorganizing the place anyway. Consider it an honor to stand where the first-ever Bridleway performers did.”
I’ve pushed one of his buttons, Babs thought to herself as she saw just how excited the director was to guide her through her performance. Still, she figured it was in the spirit of the season to honor the actors who’d stood in her spot, and with a quick sigh, she picked up her act yet again, keeping Scene’s techniques in mind.
“Wait,” Scene piped in just after she’d read her first line. “Wouldn’t it be easier on you if I read Chancellor Puddinghead’s lines?”
Absolutely not, she muttered to herself, dreading the thought of an already nutty director channeling an even more whimsical role. Regardless, she kept her comments to a quick shake of her head and continued onward, only to be interrupted ten minutes into her act.
“Not so good, huh?”
“It was better than last time, but both times, you seemed distracted by something. Your classmates and Coco might not be able to tell, but experienced actors can. And usually, when there’s something on your mind, it’s something pretty serious.”
Rather than the critical look she expected, Scene’s brown eyes showed as much concern as Coco’s often did. As much as she tended to forget this, he was probably the closest thing to a father figure Babs had, weird as her life was. That, in turn, meant her vow of silence also had to extend to him, seeing as he’d be just as ruined by the facts as Coco would be.
Then again, Babs never had been good at keeping secrets, and somehow or another, she knew she’d get a reasonable answer from him. After blowing her mane out of her eyes a few times, she was finally able to muster a confession.
“Do you ever really wanna see somepony during the holidays, even though you know he’s a total jerk?”
Surprisingly enough, even with the raw tone Babs’ voice was taking, Scene still managed to burst out laughing at the filly’s question. Once she realized how her admission could be interpreted, she found herself facehoofing at her utter incompetency.
“Kid, I ask myself that every Hearth’s Warming. Except I don’t really know who in your family could be a--”
He paused for a few seconds, noticing the situation was far from a laughing matter, and connected the dots as easily as a foal.
“Hold on,” Scene interrupted as soon as she was about to open her mouth again. “I get the feeling I’m gonna need Coco for this.”
Before Babs could object, Scene had already left the room, and so she went back to doing the one thing she knew would take her mind off the awkward situation. Fighting windigoes in the only way she knew how, even as they still reigned in her mind.
At least Smart Cookie never had to deal with Mosely Orange.
****
“I knew I should’ve picked that thing up when I got the chance,” Bambi muttered upon entering the theatre.
Somehow or another, Scene had managed to rally the entire crew into the auditorium, even though the rest of the actors seemed to be practicing on their own. Even more surprisingly, rather than the sympathy Coco and Scene had shown Babs, her older sister seemed more annoyed at the situation than anything.
“Wait,” Babs replied, “you knew about it? The bag and everything?”
Bambi’s face lay straight at the ground in hesitation, almost fearing the response she would get. While Babs’ sister did have a habit of tuning out at the strangest times, the filly couldn’t help but notice genuine remorse in her eyes.
“She saw you at the store last week, so she decided to pick up a present for you when you weren’t looking,” Coco explained. “There was a scratch on it, though, so we went back to take it in. Unfortunately, some things from my desk fell into it while it was still open, so that’s probably how Mosely’s things got in there.”
“I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear,” Bambi added, “but that letter was for something else. We have no clue what he was supposed to give you when you got your cutie mark, and frankly, it’s not something anypony really wants to think about. But we found it at the adoption office a week or so ago and wanted to throw it away.”
As weird as it was, it almost was comforting to hear such a thing, to know that Mosely had never gotten around to doing whatever he wanted to do. Not because the item would’ve been dangerous in the first place, but because it at least brought things back to the status quo. Life was simple, easily divisible into good and evil yet again. Yet just as she was about to finish Bambi’s job and throw both documents into the trash, Coco stopped her.
“I’d understand if you wanted to keep the picture,” she whispered, gently stroking Babs’ haunches. “It’s part of who you are. Even if it had a bad ending, you have a right to remember the happy moments, too.”
Babs stared up at her mother in confusion, yet Coco still had that same wise, comforting smile that she always did. Even though Mosely was every bit as much an enemy to Coco as he was to her, she hadn’t gotten angry or distressed, not even once. For the first time in a while, Babs couldn’t help but realize that maybe both of them had changed for the better after all.
“Hearth’s Warming Eve is a time for family. And, knowing that, I should’ve known it’d be a hard time for you. Even when a pony goes to college or moves away, a lot of them still miss their families around then. With one like yours, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. But I can definitely help.”
She eased Babs into a gentle hug, a feeling that the filly thought was even better than the red velvet saddlebag. The bag that now represented the love of her new family, and their willingness to accept her feelings.
“If you’re having trouble getting rid of your old Hearth’s Warming memories, why don’t we make some new ones together?”
It took her a few moments of hesitation, but just after hearing that, Babs finally worked up the courage to throw away the photo for good.
It’d brought her plenty of memories, ones she knew she’d never truly forget. But if it brought her closer to feeling normal again next Hearth’s Warming and made her heart feel as light as it did now, the tradeoff was more than worth it.
Hearth’s Warming Eve was a time for family, the family Babs had chosen for herself and the ones she would stay with forever. And as long as that light of love shone, she would always be able to keep her windigoes at bay.
Author's Note
I apologize for making this oneshot a bit more serious than the Halloween one, and I sincerely hope I'm not retreading territory I covered in IGYALL, but I feel Babs' family conflict is an important one to cover during the holidays. I haven't seen a lot of adoption stories take this approach, so I hope you all enjoy it. Look forward to the IGYALL sequel series, If You Have a Little Hope, coming soon. This story takes place slightly after the start of Hope, so the timeline goes Love-->Hope-->Faith.
Also, Scene's cutie mark moment was essentially a ponified Charlie Brown Christmas, and no one can tell me otherwise. 
