Swift Wanderings

I awoke early the next day. The sun was shining, it was a lovely day, not a cloud in sight. Not. A. Cloud. This was getting ridiculous.

It was very dry out, the late spring heat made sure of that. Being dry meant a much higher risk for fires, which was not good, especially in the pine forests surrounding Smokey Mountain, as I’ve said before.

I heard a knocking on my door.

“Come in!” I called.

Cider peeked in, a hoof over her eyes. “Can I look at ‘cha?” She asked.

She knew I hated ponies seeing me without my hat. I quickly pulled it on.“Yeah, I'm good.”

“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen, okay?”

I sniffed the air.

“Is that . . . It can’t be . . .”
She smiled.

“Bacon.”

“BACON!? SWEET CELESTIA! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!” I shot out the door, and into the small kitchen. Most ponies, I feel the need to emphasize this again, while perfectly capable of eating meat, found it barbaric. I, on the other hoof, found it delicious. When I first went to the Smokey Mountain Settlement, I learned that lean crop harvests made hunting the less sapient animals a necessity, and some even developed a taste for meat.

Cider laughed, a clear and happy sound that filled the air. “Well, don’t hold in your enthusiasm!”

All of a sudden, the door swung open. A small unicorn mare burst in. She was wearing plain black glasses, a golden ring on her horn, and carrying a large book. She was a very light purple, with a dark blue mane. Her cutie mark was an inkwell, and she looked particularly happy. I looked at Cider, and did a double take. That necklace was not there last night.

“Cider . . . something you want to tell me?” I teased.

“Uh . . . I proposed to Inkscape?” She grinned sheepishly.

“Oh my gosh! Congratulations!” I exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Y-you’re not mad that I . . . you know . . . like mares?”

“I may or may not understand on a personal level,” I said. “When’s the wedding?”

She rubbed her hooves together nervously.

“Oh, yes. I forgot you liked her. As for the wedding, I have no idea. Do you know when you’ll be in town next?”

I shrugged. “As long as it’s not in the next five months, I can be there. EEEEH! I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!”

She patted my back. “I’m . . . happy . . . too . . . air . . . please . . .”

I dropped her. “Oops! Sorry!”

“Sooo . . .” Inkscape batted her eyes teasingly. “When are you asking out Joy?”

I sighed. “She doesn’t like me like that.” Bacon sizzled and popped in the background. “Is that burning?”
Cider turned to the bacon. “No, it just needs to be flipped.” She grabbed a spatula, and flipped it, all while talking to me. “Now, don’t change the subject. From what I can tell, you really love this girl. Why don’t you ask her out?”

“It’s like I said.” I grumbled. “She doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?” Inkscape asked.

“Joy’s very outgoing. She would have asked me already.” I slumped down, head in my hooves. “Can we please not talk about my romantic failures?”

“Sorry.” Cider set a plate of steaming bacon in front of my despondent face. “Here, bacon solves problems.”

“But not mine.” I mumbled, grumpily munching on a piece of bacon.

Inkscape pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry that we made you feel bad. What about a shopping trip?”

Cider looked up from her plate. “I could do that.”

I checked my bit bag. “I’m down for that.”

Inkscape laughed. “Come on! Lets go!” She ran out the door, Cider not far behind.

Glancing between the door and the bacon, I sighed. Grabbing remaining strips, I stuffed them in my mouth. “Wait for me!” I called, trying not to spit bacon bits as I ran after them.

***

We had been shopping for a few hours now. I’d bargained quite a few good deals, trades and other things. Cider and Inkscape were heading back to the tavern, so I’d figured that I might as well tag along.

I trotted inside. It was strangely dark, but I could hear a rustling -

“SURPRISE!”

I jumped, leaping a good four feet into the air.

Tiller came to the front, his big hooves clopping joyfully.

“We got her!” He called to the back of the room.

I smacked him playfully.

“Yes, you big lug, you got me. Now, since this here is a party, I’m assuming that there’s free food?

Tiller laughed, his deep voice echoing around the room. “Yes, there’s free food.”

“Hear hear!” Somepony called from the back of the room. Everypony turned around, revealing a completely innocent-looking pegasus walking around with the punch bowl. She smiled. “Free food!” She cried, hoisting the punch to the sky.

Everypony cheered, rushing towards her. I smiled, and went for the chips.

***

It was late evening, and most everypony was at least a bit tipsy from all the punch. I have no Idea what Cider put in that punch, and I get the feeling that I don’t want to know.

Speaking of Cider, she was one of the few sober ponies left. She was standing by me, a heavily inebriated Inkscape leaning on her. We were laughing at the ponies on the dance floor, as they all stumbled around to the beat of the music.

Inkscape hiccuped once, and then fell asleep leaning on her. Cider smiled. “I think that’s my cue to help her to bed.”

I laughed. “I’ll come too then.” I bid Tiller good night, and we walked upstairs to go to sleep, as it was very late when we collapsed, possibly early morning. Cider gave Inkscape her bed, while she took the couch. I went back into the guest bedroom.

I couldn’t fall asleep, so I watched the stars.

Are you thinking about me?

***

It was late evening in Manehattan, and an artist was rushing home. She adjusted her glasses, wings twitching nervously as she took another turn. The artist skidded to a stop in front of a small art shop, opening the door.

Ignoring the paintings dotting the walls, she trotted along, behind the desk that held a beaten cash register, and through an old wooden door.

Behind the door was a staircase that wound in a tight spiral. The artist climbed it, paying no heed to her tail thumping against the railings as she rushed up.

She crawled into her small bed, snuggling under the bedsheets. The city lights glinted off a framed picture of herself and a significantly shorter creature.

“Goodnight Swift, wherever you are.”