Silver's Lining
Silver Edge was a grey Unicorn Stallion. He worked as a well respected Blacksmith in central Trottingham. His metal-crafting business earned more than enough income to get by, considering he still received bits from the Equestrian military, as well as the occasional order or repair work. During this tough economic climate in Equestria, ever since the banking collapse in Neigh York, only the strongest of businesses had survived. This caused massive unemployment and a steady increase in poverty. Silver was a lucky one, not having to resort to brutal practices to stay afloat. Although becoming jaded was a severe side effect of this new lifestyle.
Along the high-streets, shop windows were covered in chipboard. Their entrances decorated with sad memorials to the previous owners. Only convenience stores, gambling houses and alcohol shops remained. The 'booze' sellers had already attracted the younger audience and the convenience stores had become the only toy retailer. As well as deserted buildings, litter clogged the drain covers and broken glass was left around in the overflowing bins.
Police presence had increased since minor disturbances had worried the struggling families. Some looting had also occurred, arriving alongside the poverty that had rained upon the city. In some districts and many of the more troublesome neighbourhoods, a curfew had been imposed. The curfew sparked a large uproar amongst its residents and created some of the worst nights of riots Trottingham had ever seen. Silver, always in the know from his customers, learned that three Police Officers had died on a single occasion.
As per usual, the streets were ripe with the stench of urine and decay. Ponies had taken less pride in their city. Treating it like a dump and blaming the mess on the ones in charge. Their perceived righteousness had annoyed the still working Equestrians to no end. Including Silver. Broken street lamps and occupied cardboard boxes carved a route to the Unicorn's home. No luminescence was shown in the shopping district any more; too expensive.
Silver took the long route home this time. Depressed by the living conditions of ponies he recognised as Bakers, Stall-traders and office workers. Charity was next to impossible. If you gave to one, the others would pounce on you. Silver was a witness of such an event. Seeing a Stallion's generosity ultimately lead to the charitable pony living amongst the poorest of the masses. The Blacksmith still in deep thought, took it upon himself to avoid the large gathering mass of shady (and skinny) individuals on his home journey. Taking the route over the communal gardens.
The two story town house was a welcome sight. Especially since no windows were broken or locks pummelled. Silver, once inside, had no desire for food. His mood killing any appetite. Sleep was a number one priority. Hammering metals all day can take a toll on a pony. Thanking Princess Celestia for a roof over his head and praying to Luna for a restful sleep, the Unicorn lay down upon his bed. Silver Edge was having trouble sleeping as of recent. Sirens were going off at all hours. The sound of screaming pierced his sleepy ears. Glass shattering caused Silver to lurch up more than once before finally drifting into unconsciousness. This same procedure happened almost every night.
Mornings were no better in the Edge household. Waking up with sore limbs was something you never got used to. Breakfast was generally the same. if you could even get hold of the ingredients to begin with. Convenience bread is just not the same as a good baker. Shop-keepers cannot afford to stock jam and the butter was never butter. In addition to the breakfast, it was more the lack of change in every aspect of day to day life that bothered Silver the most. Before the complications, anypony could just talk to somebody else. In this age of poverty, ponies were shy, defensive and always after another's coin purse.
Another day, another bag of bits. Silver's working hours were uneventful. A wealthy family with a young foal had stopped by the Blacksmith to get their vegetable knives sharpened and purchase a new kettle. A Police Officer came to collect his new and improved decorative rapier. The working Unicorn had also found the time to begin prototype construction of a new line of lightweight-high-protection boots that the Canterlot military had shown an interest in during the planning stage.
More and more squatters were occupying the abandoned retail buildings following a sudden downpour that hit mid day. Soaked cardboard was now a filth ridden carpet across the cobbled paths. Splintered sheets of chipboard were laid to waste and to rot in the doorways that lead into the stolen accommodation. Silver was concerned, as many ponies were, mainly with how the ponies were able to find food. Overly dramatic rumours of cannibalism hung about the ponies who still lived in their homes.
Silver stopped by an open store on his return journey. Picking up the latest newspaper along with some essentials. Every coin he handed over to the shopkeeper added a brighter glimmer to their eyes. It was sad. Outside of the beaten up shop, heavy rain had begun. Replacing the small puddles with rapidly growing bigger pond sized ones. Thunder was brought with this rainfall. The diminished strength of the weather patrols had lead to a decrease in weather quality. Silver Edge sighed, leaving the convenience store to greet a torrent of stinging wetness. Waterproof magic could only be localised to the shopping bags, after his magic was spent on the new boots that took longer than expected to complete. Dealing with a two-pony job with only one Unicorn can present problems.
'The authorities had again improved the security.' The newspaper read with an uncertain tone. 'Trottingham takes the brunt of economic meltdown, homelessness at record high'. 'Princess Celestia to open new orphanage in Neigh-Orleans.' The same apathetic mood resonated from the opinion pieces. The Liberals and Conservatives were at each other's throats again in bitter and foalish attempts to berate the other. 'Wanted' Posters filled up a good half of where the music and sport articles used to dominate, although overshadowed by portraits of the beautiful Octavia. The electric DJ-Pon-3. The 'Magnificent Wonderbolts'. The super-rich were the only ponies not feeling the hard times.
During the night Silver contemplated renting a spare room for cheap. Not just to earn a few more bits, but to bring company into the otherwise lonely house. He was conflicted with thoughts of being killed in his sleep amongst other terrible things that could happen to a vulnerable unicorn. Isolation was ultimately decided to be a positive alternative to the potential, killer, downsides of letting somepony live with him. Silver was additionally plagued with the idea of being caught or kidnapped by the gangs that ruled the streets, or his shop being vandalised with no warning. Sleep was now a rare commodity, and good coffee was hard to come by. Silver constantly fought an internal battle to keep his sanity in check, it was also surprising he had no hallucinations with this amount of stress.
*Knock*
*Knock Knock*
A filly’s voice echoed through the slim slit of a letterbox that cut through the front door.
“Is anypony there?”
Silver’s nightmares finished with his abrupt awakening. He quickly got to his hooves and draped himself in a dressing gown prior to descending the tall staircase. Rubbing his eyes as he trotted.
“I can hear you!” The same filly bore a more serious voice.
Silver opened the door on the earth pony foal, she was a scrawny charcoal furred creature with a jet black messy mane. The filly stared intently at the stallion that was Silver. Focusing on the small, straight scar that crossed his eye at a horizontal angle. She was holding a ragged backpack with rips and tears throughout. Hanging halfway out of the bag was a well used violet rabbit plush which the child guarded in a tight lock between her hooves when Silver focussed his eyes upon it. With the guarding stance came a worried yet aggressive face.
“Mister, do you any food?” Changing to a saddened and embarrassed pose, the foal crossed her hooves.
Without a word, Silver was going to shut the door on the poor wretch. Remembering the consequences of being a good person. That was until he saw a nasty infected gash on her flank. The wound covered a blank flank and looked like no accident. Her sad eyes showed despair, loneliness and pain. No hope of any kind. The filly’s fur was a congealed mess of dried sweat, filth and an obvious result nights of restless, rough-sleeping.
As a larger Stallion, it would normally be expected to help a mare in need, especially a foal. Definitely in simpler, better times would chivalry and common courtesy be the norm. But when your livelihood and home is at stake for something a simple as helping one another, this filly would be no exception to the self set rules of social interaction. If orphanages had the funding they needed in the first place, this encounter probably wouldn't have happened. She was definitely from an orphanage; Silver knew the type.
Silver grudgingly invited the foal that called herself ‘Haze Etcher’ (as indicated by a name tag on the underside of her bag) into the house. The look on her small face was heart melting and unnerving at the same time. On a second glance, the little filly was dirtier than initially observed. Leaving a tiny mound of mud on the doormat before entering. Silver’s heart and mind were in panic-mode, looking both ways down the street to be sure that nopony saw what was going on. What he just did was too much of a risk to take lightly. Instant regret fuelled what was close to a full blown panic-attack.
As soon as the backpack was past the threshold of his home, Silver slammed the door shut. The sudden loud noise accompanied by a brief feeling of claustrophobia caused the filly to jump and cower at the bottom of the staircase. Silver did feel a little sorry for startling a child but not enough for him to show it. Instead he paced into the kitchen area still mostly asleep and starting to be visibly angered by his actions. A breakfast, so Silver imagined, couldn’t cause too much damage if the child was quiet about it.
Toast, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and glasses of milk adorned the kitchen table. The now formally introduced Haze Etcher was eagerly digging into her meal, making little eye contact with Silver Edge. Silver had barely touched his own plate. Preoccupied with work plans as well as fighting with his own conscience as whether or not to take the earth pony to a medical professional. Medicine costs bits; Silver had bits. Charity can be bad; a child could die. At least one pony was enjoying herself.
It was decided that the foal had to stay. For now. Silver couldn’t bear the thought of both her telling others of his self proclaimed kindness, as well as the terrible things that could happen to her should she be let back into the wild. The spare room was given a purpose; to house the temporary addition to the household. Needless to say, Haze was ecstatic at finally having a place to sleep. An audible cry was heard from her room as Silver left the foal to unpack what little she had. Silver had work to do and work had to come first. Even if he was charged with an injured, vulnerable filly his deals with Canterlot were increasing and with that monetary income. Haze looked after herself in the outside world, she should have the ability to live in a real home without too much hassle. That’s if she is not just a master thief and burglar.
The captain of the Canterlot guard was an unusual customer in Silver’s shop. Apparently attracted by what his lieutenants had said about ‘innovative defence systems’. The stallion named Shining Armour, after an hour of browsing, bought the right to make a thousand of Silver’s newly finished hoof-guard armour. At seven bits per production right, Silver figured he had enough bits to comfortably last him the rest of the year. Pleased yet unsatisfied with a shortened day’s work and downright scared of going home. Silver moved to his next project of designing a similar torso protection. All the while thinking about how his guest was getting along.
Posters were beginning to appear around the more affluent areas of Trottingham regarding a touring music festival. A little more happiness in a depressed city cannot be a bad thing. But with the common low degree of wealth, the turnout was destined to be low. Even with acts such as DJ-Pon3 and ‘Your favourite EDM artists’. Beggars and crime had been forced off the streets in this area in preparation for the festival. As well as providing the artists and staff with security, the ‘crackdown’ allowed for the newly designated city center to become a central hub for business. Kickstarting a much needed economic growth. Unfortunately Silver’s shop was not in this ‘good place’.
Commerce that was reserved for Trottingham’s middle class and upwards was quickly transformed during the day into an open market for anypony with the currency. Prices had dropped and customer numbers already increased. Alongside this sudden change came a more varied stock of goods. Notably the exotic pastries that Silver had purchased for the foal as a bargaining tool for keeping her muzzle shut. With the pastries, Silver also picked up the latest DJ-Pon-3 record. Him being a closeted fan of the talented DJ. Not that he had anypony to hide this fact from.
Upon arrival home, Silver was pleased to find that nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything of value was accounted for. No mess had been made. Apart from the odd bread-roll missing, the filly had been well behaved. Entering the guest bedroom, Silver noticed that Haze was hard at work ‘sketching’ in her tattered drawing pad with broken crayons and blunt pencils, barely sparing a second to acknowledge her host’s presence. Silver sat adjacent to the foal, watching her doodle and colour with mild interest, before grudgingly offering such aid as his professional sketching and rendering tools. Furthermore, Silver ordered the foal to wash herself before allowing her to eat the evening meal and surprise dessert.
Haze exited the wash room a new pony. Of sorts. Her fur was clean but ungroomed. Her mane the same way. Haze’s infected wound was still as bad as ever and would definitely need medical attention. Much to Silver and his coin-purses’ internal protest. The most obvious and ‘new ponyish’ change to Haze was that she wore a smile upon her face. Proud to be clean as though it was a major accomplishment. The beaming filly allowed a smaller, damp towel to drape around her short neck as she returned to the guest bedroom to ‘finish the final touches’. Silver almost gave a smile at the foal’s extreme cuteness but stayed resolute in the mindset of the cautious samaritan. If Silver had given the smile, it would have been the first Haze would have seen.
Clean and with a hunger almost sated, Haze was busy dividing up what parts of her pastry to eat first. Her keen eyes bounced between pineapple and mango. Whilst also eyeing up the thickest of the golden flakes still left in the corner of her plate. At this point Silver had already passed the halfway point in his main meal. Slowly levitating heaps of green vegetables into his open muzzle and carefully watching the pony across the table. Haze had even brought her stuffed animal to the dinner table and insisted it be seated on a separate chair next to her. But failed on the plush having it’s own dinner. After the two meals were consumed and Haze filled up for the first time in Celestia knows how long, Silver managed to persuade the young Haze Etcher to part with her precious toy. For the purpose of giving it a thorough wash and a quick meeting with ‘mister needle and mrs thread.’ Of course, the foal was none too pleased seeing a sharp object pushed through the fluffy flesh of her friend. Protesting quite loudly at some points prior to noticing it slowly regaining what Silver hoped to be the plush’s original structure. When Silver saw the filly running to the guest room, laughing with the stuffed rabbit riding on her neck. He concluded that his mostly minor efforts had been a success. With Haze gone, Silver could finally focus on planning an inconspicuous visit to Trottingham General Hospital.
Upon returning from a dreary, semi-productive day at the anvil and more importantly at the desk drawing up plans, Silver found his ‘guest’ laid back upon the sofa surrounded by an array of various empty record cases, discarded disks and a still playing, new DJ-PON-3 vinyl that had only just been purchased the day previous. The Blacksmith, aggravated by the lack of respect for his belongings and the invasion of privacy proceeded to lecture the filly on guest etiquette and the proper way to care for vinyl records. Haze apologised to the best of her ability. Sincere and a little intimidated by Silver’s apparent terrible way with children. Dinner was another silent affair but with no dessert this time. Haze didn’t mind, Having a hot meal was good enough for her skinny figure. After food was eaten and the table cleared by both the wordless ponies. Silver broke the tense silence by explaining his plans to take Haze Etcher to see the doctor. Haze did not take well to the idea of being ‘attacked’ by ponies with sharp objects. Hiding behind her plush and under the duvet of her bed in what Silver guessed was just a simple case of a foal being unnecessarily difficult.
Unbeknown to Silver Edge, he was beginning to enjoy the company.
Work was postponed for the day for the intent of getting Haze seen to. Rather than putting the visit off and regretting having a seriously sick filly later. Breakfast was had with a good amount of conversation about Haze’s favourite DJ. Which then went on to how she had planned to sneak into a concert one day in the future and meet Vinyl Scratch in person. Silver found the words from the foal a good change from the mundane ticking of the clock and wheels of carts passing by outside, making him wonder why he had no motivation to meet anypony new before. Haze finished the last of the orange juice in the house and offered to clean the table herself. Realising for the first time what Silver had actually done to help her. Haze Etcher even agreed to meet with the doctor. But only if her rabbit could accompany her. Silver did not argue.
Fortunately, the long roads were relatively empty and the guards had done a fine job of keeping the ‘unwanted’ ponies away from anywhere that could compromise Silver and Haze’s hopefully unseen journey to Trottingham General Hospital. The area was already looking a lot better than in previous days. as if Celestia had blessed the land with a powerful recovery spell. The grass was greener, the light from the sun was brighter, and everything appeared less dirty. Large stallions and police-mares alike roamed the wide paths. Bags under their eyes from a relatively early shift. Silver was impressed with Haze being able to wake up so early. He put it down to the sugary foods that had gone missing from a food cupboard.
The reception to the hospital was almost empty apart from the staff member working the front desk. Recognised for a reason that Silver did not wish to impart to Haze as of yet. He had to correct the working mare as to who the patient actually was going to be this time. Seeing her name written down, Haze Etcher cringed and pretended to be invoked in a serious playtime with the rabbit doll. The scent of disinfectant and cleanliness quickly elevated the stress visible in the almost terrified foal who was desperately hiding her flank from any doctor walking past. After ten minutes waiting, Silver and Haze were called to a Doctor Pulse Maker's office, in which the kind gentlecolt thoroughly examined Haze’s delicate and no doubt painful injury. Shakes of the head and nervous twitches were seen. Squeals of discomfort and calming comments could be heard. A lot of writing information that Silver could hardly decipher was observed. Making the atmosphere a little more uncomfortable, especially when numbers were being processed.
The doctor spoke to Silver about a severe infection showing signs of spreading that could only be halted and cured by immediate surgery. Naturally simplicity can never be an option and her left hind leg was now at stake. Silver had known Haze for just about two days. He had little say in what happened to a foal that he had taken in on a stupid error of judgement. Furthermore, health care isn’t cheap, anypony knows that. Especially Silver. What the doctor was saying, assumed that Silver was the caregiver when he was not. He was just caught in his own mess.
Haze just sat and listened to what Doctor Pulse Maker had to say, her face welling up with anxiety and regaining the hopelessness that she had possessed before meeting Silver. She knew that Silver Edge had no obligation to look after her or feed her. She was a smart filly after all. She also knew that she hadn’t the bits to pay the hospital to keep something to vital to her.
The only thing Haze could do was to look at both the doctor and Silver while hugging her rabbit tightly and silently praying to Princess Celestia that her problems be put behind her. She also had no regrets praying to stay in a warm home like she did before. Except the home being less like a run down orphanage and more like a proper one she had read about in storybooks. Like Silver’s. In the moments that passed with Silver talking to the doctor, Haze remembered how she had been dumped by her parents in favour of her wanted sibling. How she being an earth-pony in a pegasus household rendered her useless to them and the warm feeling of being accepted by a pony who sought nothing in return. Haze Etcher also recollected how an attack by a larger colt in the orphanage over a small bowl of rice caused her to flee the run down place. The filly didn’t like spending the nights on the cold roads and under the filthy bridges. Seeing shadows pass under the street lamps scared her, watching ponies fighting made her anxious and watching herself waste away played with her tear ducts. In front of the doctor and Silver, Haze broke into a sob.
“Mister, I don’t want to lose my leg.” Through matted fur, Haze spoke out loud.
At these words, Silver felt his heart thump. He had only taken her to the doctor in hope that a cheap bottle of antibiotics and maybe a few staples could help her out a little. Silver had done his best to distance himself from the child so that when he put her out again he felt little emotion towards the filly. Instead of the lack of empathy he had hoped to develop towards Haze, Silver could admit to himself that he had gained a fondness and appreciation of the earth pony. The Unicorn blacksmith stepped over to the foal and embraced her in a comforting hug, reassuring her and kicking himself for doing so in front of another pony.
Pulse Maker explained to Silver the cost of the treatment that Haze was required to receive. It was not cheap but was risk free and guaranteed to work. Pulse Maker even said he would carry out the procedure himself, to Haze’s delight. All the time Haze Etcher sat closely beside Silver. Also feeling the connection that was starting to develop between the two. The total cost of the treatment ran up to three and a half thousand bits. Pulse Maker said that being one of the only paying customers that the hospital had, Haze would receive the best care available. Again in a depressed mood, the young pony contemplated the amount of work she would have to do to pay back her new friend. That was if he even was willing to part with his money. However, to Haze’s shock and joy; Silver agreed to pay up.
The year of no work would be cut to half a year. But who was he kidding anyway? Silver was not going to quit work for a year. He had nothing else to do. Silver had nopony to see, let alone any activity besides work that he enjoyed. Haze needed this money for a chance at living a normal life. Silver was not prepared to take that away from her. The blacksmith was also not ready to give her up. He just didn’t fully realise that yet. Three and a half thousand was rather steep though. Even the doctor admitted that he would understand if Silver couldn’t pay. That statement was almost a contributing factor that did make Silver decide to pay. The look on Pulse Maker’s face was a hilarious mixture of ‘i’m getting paid’ glee and ‘maybe i should apologise for what i just said’ guilt.
Almost immediately after Silver filled in the paperwork and signed a cheque, as well as a brief interrogation as to his motives, (Silver being neither an adoptive parent nor biological parent) Haze was carted into an empty pediatrics ward by eager staff members. Smiling the whole way there, Haze Etcher repeatedly thanked the closely following Silver, promising she would make it up to him and asking the mare pushing the bed various questions about her line of work.
Haze’s room was a modest space with many machines and wires everywhere. The ward surrounding was decorated with childish drawings of the hospital and painted in bright colours that would make any foal feel more welcome. The filly’s bed on wheels was directly attached to the room’s equipment. Haze in particular was already hooked up to a heart monitor and a saline drip. Silver had no idea what this meant but was relieved in the knowledge that the doctor kept his word about Haze being treated well. To Haze’s excitement, she had been given a room with a television set that had a built in VHS player. The Princess Bridle was already in the player. This was incidentally Haze’s favourite movie from the rare orphanage screenings where she had seen but a few films.
After being told by Doctor Pulse Maker that Haze’s operation was scheduled for the following morning, Haze began to develop the pre-op jitters. Complaining about small annoyances and even of problems that were not there. Haze even tried to convince Silver that maybe losing a leg wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. But was quickly put off that idea when Silver Edge explained what an amputation entails. That night, Silver was forced to stay by a relapse of Haze’s crying when he tried to leave, as well as a fit of anger from an accusation of abandonment. For such a small filly, she had a strong left hook. Haze’s lashing out only helped cement Silver’s fondness of the earth-pony as she genuinely (and cutely) thought that he owed her something more. Now that he had given her a chance at keeping her limb. She was right. A pony does not fork out that much money for somepony they intend to throw back to the streets. Silver had lost that intention.
So that night, he stayed, watching over the foal as she slept comfortably, not getting any sleep himself. Silver stared at the star painted ceiling contemplating if what he felt was the same as a biological parents reaction to their child going into surgery. He shrugged it off, blaming the feeling on the five empty cups of coffee that littered the bedside cabinet. The feeling that was there however, lingered and clawed at Silver’s mind in all the hours that passed. Never in all his years had he gone through Luna’s night without having something to do. Silver usually slaved on his drawings, listened to endless playlists of music from all genres or wrote short stories for the sheer fun of writing. This night was for the filly. Nothing else mattered.
The morning inevitably came around and Silver was as awake as he was when he first came to the hospital. Haze had approximately two and a half hours until she was to be taken to theatre so she figured she had enough time to watch another movie. This time she pointed to the tape that read Daring Doo: Raiders of the Lost Stable, and rapidly lost herself in the plot. Once Silver finally found the worn away ‘play’ button. At the conclusion to Haze’s fantasy fuelling video-tape, she once again became nervous. Nervousness is justified when one has nurses prodding and poking you and doctors writing words that you neither understand nor want said out loud. When the time came, Silver escorted Haze down the corridor with an entourage of nurses. They traveled across the hospital and up a cramped elevator to the sterile, strong smelling theatre. Silver Edge watched as the terrified young earth pony was rendered unconscious by the anaesthetist. Haze finding her stuffed animal as the only comfort in her last, brief, moments of consciousness. Silver could not lie about feeling an emotional attachment being tested to the limits as he was moved away and back towards the elevator. He felt guilty for leaving Haze behind and felt worse in the knowledge that there was nothing he could do. Anything could go wrong in the surgery. Haze was an underweight, injured and fragile earth pony. The fact that Doctor Pulse Maker said that there was no risk to the surgery meant little to Silver. He wanted to be there. The only thing he could do was to wait and try to eat what he could keep down.
The spacious cafeteria was a generic buffet layout with one pony manning the food and another on the cash register. Patients well enough to come down, families of hospitalised ponies, and Staff alike gathered together in a collective of mixed emotions and together ate an ironically unhealthy menu of food. Silver, feeling down from an unwanted wave of anxiety that tore away at his insides. Found the fried foods a rather good tool to ease his stress slightly. The untold wonders of a well made batch of fried tomatoes, greasy mushrooms, and potato-hoof-waffles fulfilled Silver Edge’s appetite as well as greatly reducing his sanity threatening melancholy. Soon after spending time doodling in the remains of different sauces that covered his empty plate, Silver returned to Haze’s ward and room. Making little eye contact with anypony else and instantly falling asleep upon the soft cushioned furniture.
The Unicorn awoke to the sound of a beeping heart monitor and the image of a sleeping filly. At first Silver couldn’t comprehend the situation, having just woken up after surviving twenty-four hours of being awake. Soon after his mind became active, Silver Edge realised that Haze was once again with him. Barely three days of knowing this filly and Silver had already thrown himself upon her in a tight embrace. It could have been the prolonged solitude that made Silver so quick to take to Haze, or that the filly gave Silver the chance to care for another rather than just do his job of making the means to kill. Whatever it was, Silver was overjoyed to have Haze Etcher back.
Eyes fluttered from the elevated bed.
“Hi mister, my head hurts.” The Earth Pony awoke from her anesthetic feeling groggy, disoriented, and with a throbbing headache.
“Call me Silver, Haze.” Silver smiled towards Haze, resting a hoof above her head.
Silver couldn’t have planned that first interaction better.
Briefly chatting to Silver, Doctor Pulse Maker explained the success of the surgery and the ‘At home’ care that Haze would require in time to come. The doctor also informed Silver of his obligation to inform Foal Protective Services of Haze Etcher’s location and status. To the F.P.S. aspect of the conversation, Silver openly outed his concerns. Relaying what Haze had said about the circumstances leading up to her and Silver Edge’s introduction. Heartlessly, the doctor ignored the argument and played the ‘I have your money, i can do what i want.’ card. Obviously without realising the repercussions. In a civil retaliation, Silver spoke about a certain Canterlot military connection. Trying his best to sound important and therefore throw Pulse Maker off his game. It worked. Lying about how he got his scar helped quite a bit too.
For a week, Silver stayed with Haze in the hospital. Only leaving when absolutely necessary or to sneak some food while the filly was sleeping. Over that period, Haze Etcher and Silver Edge bonded greatly. Sharing their life stories in all the graphic detail they could bring themselves to admit. Pulse Maker did not follow up on his ‘obligation’, so Silver sustained no visual grudge against the doctor. In the last days of the hospital stay, the two mutually agreed that adoption was the only option. Haze was incredibly mature in the matter. Mostly in fear of returning to the orphanage that was most certainly not Silver's home. For adoption to happen, one of the nicer nurses explained that Silver would have to visit Trottingham orphanage to sign a vast array of legal documents. Then pass a screening phase. After that Haze would have to be willing to go with Silver, which she was. Haze, delighted with the prospect of living with her ‘favourite pony in the world’, interjected into the conversation with a detailed description of one colt in particular. To which the Unicorn with extensive experience dealing with difficult customers made a special mental note of.
And that’s how Equestria was made. At least for Silver and Haze.
