There is Nothing Harder than Just Going On

Dusk caught up with his quarry two days later, around noon. He looked down at the group of ponies currently gathered around a bend in the river that ran south from the Neighagra Falls. Settling his story in his head, he began pulling the wagon down towards the group slowly.

There were a couple of close calls when he was sighted, not at him but further into the camp, but he made sure to keep his approach steady and waved at the group of stallions gathering between him and the group.

As soon as he was close enough to speak with them, he detached himself from his wagon and blocked off the wheels before coming close enough to be heard without shouting.

"Hello," he said to the four stallions looking him over with steel, his voice naturally nervous and breaking. "My name's Pastel Night. I'm looking for someplace to rest for a moment, refill my water and rest the legs."

The group looked at each other before nodding at one of them, who took off into camp while another stepped forward.

"Hail, Pastel Night," the gray-blue pegasus said roughly, his tone unpracticedly accent-less. "You'll need our leader's permission to rest with us. Otherwise, there's plenty of water downstream."

Dusk chuckled, shaking his head. "I've traveled like you do before, and I know what happens upstream when there's a gathering."

The other two stallions chuckled, and the one in front of him cracked a grin as he said, "Gotta wash the dust off, right?"

"And empty the bladder if the foals are swimming," Dusk replied, and all four of them shared a laugh.

"Fair 'nuff, fair 'nuff," the pony in front of him said, dropping his formality as he said, "Tha's a lovely wagon there, looks nice and taken care of, even if it’s a bit small."

Dusk let his gaze drop and his eyes water, the smile wavering as he said, "Yeah, uh, my dam and sire took good care of it. I was lucky to have it givin' back after the, uh, unicorn thing."

There was a moment of silence before the stallion nearest him surprised Dusk by looping a foreleg over his shoulder and pulling him into his chest. Wavering on the edge of real tears just from the touch of another, friendly pony, Dusk couldn't stop his legs from wrapping around the other stallion's neck as he pressed his face against the other pony's neck.

After a moment, he pulled away and sniffed heavily, blinking as he wiped the almost unshed tears from his eye sockets. "Wow, sorry about that," he started before the stallion patted his shoulder.

"Colt, there's nothing to be sorry about," he said, rubbing Dusk's shoulder gently before taking a step back. "Tartarus, we all lost ponies to the blasted uprising. I lost a brother, and the entire caravan lost our leader near the beginning. We follow his sister now." He chewed on his cheek for a second before asking, "Who all'd you lose, colt?"

Dusk felt the events of the last month roll across his eyes, even as he shut them tight.

"I've lost everypony," he murmured, sniffling.

"Well, that's reason enough for me," came a soft feminine voice, solid and sure, making Dusk blink open his eyes slowly.

Looking up, he saw a wisp of thin, dirty white hair floating across a pair of pale green eyes and a smiling, sunny yellow muzzle. She was shorter than the stony blue stallion but taller than Dusk was at the moment.

"'Lo there colt," she said, giving him a gentle smile. "My name's Drifting Hollow. I understand you want to share some space with the caravan?"

Dusk sniffed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Mine's Pastel Night," he said, offering out his hoof.

Reaching out, Drifting tapped hers against the offered hoof before nodding at the ponies around her. "You've met Shale already, and this one's Comet Strikes, and this is Dark Charge," she said, pointing a hoof first at the light blue pegasus, then the dark gray unicorn. "The other colt's called Lightning Hoof, but he's busy trying to find a space for you by the stream."

Switching his name mentally, Pastel chuckled and nodded gratefully. "I appreciate it, ma'am. I don't need much. I was just going to refill my little water cask and maybe wash some dust off the hooves."

Drifting Hollow chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, nah, no need to be shy. We don't see many singular travelers, and stories are our currency. You stay around for dinner at least, and I'd hear your tale before seeing you go off."

Pastel let himself swallow and gave Drifting a shaky smile. "Uh, I'm not sure I'm ready to go telling my past right now..."

She nodded slowly. "I think I can guess most of it, honey," she said gently. "Can you tell me the numbers, at least?"

"Uhm, mom, dad, little sis, and we were traveling with three other families, eighteen more ponies," he said softly, blinking rapidly and looking down at the grass between them.

He heard her walk up to him before she wrapped a hoof around his withers and pulling him into a short hug. "It's alright, honey," she whispered before gently pulling him towards the camp. "How many made it?"

He shook his head and forced a hiccup before saying, "I think one group made it into the forest when they attacked us, but I haven't heard from them. I haven't heard from anypony, and I'm afraid—"

He cut himself off with a sniff before saying, "I mean, I know that dad fought back pretty hard, but I got knocked out by a spell before I could help anyone. Then I was in this pen, with my wings tied down, for what felt like a week before Celestia came back—"

He stopped talking, shaking his head as Drifting led him deeper into the camp.

"They gave me dad's wagon a couple of days later, but they couldn't find any information about the other families. I guess the unicorns didn't pay attention when they split us, and there wasn't anything left over about where they picked us up or what they did to us." He sniffed and finished by quietly saying, "They wouldn't tell me what happened to my sister."

He felt Drifting shiver against him, and his heart twitched in his chest at the deceit.

"I'm so sorry, hon," she whispered, pulling him against her as she walked him through the camp. "If you wanna give us their names, we can send out fliers? The pegasi flocks have been keeping up with our people over the last two weeks, and they send out missing ponies lists that we can add some names onto."

He sniffed and chuckled dryly. "Thank you, ma'am, but I know where my family is, and I'd like to move on with my—" He forced a choking sob before saying, "I'd like to move on."

She murmured and gave him another firm squeeze, and he nearly rolled his eyes at how over-the-top he was acting.

Still, he was being taken in, just as he'd hoped, and maybe in a day or two, he'd receive his invitation to travel with the caravan.

It wouldn't be home, but it'd be something, and he wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Pastel Night woke up groggily, looking around the bed of the wagon before yawning and rubbing his eyes with the frogs of his hooves. Shifting under his blankets, he poked his head out of the cloth flaps that kept the rain out and peered around the predawn campsite.

He was surprised to see only a few ponies, mostly mares, moving around outside the wagons and preparing morning fires for morning meals.

Drawing his blanket around his shoulders, Pastel tumbled out of his wagon and started preparing his own campfire and cookery. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw ponies watching him in their free time between preparations. Pulling out his kindling he'd cut from the Everfree, he used his wings to stack some firewood and strike the flint and steel together before settling back under his blanket to let the fire come to life.

"That's a cute pot you got there, Sweetie!" one of the nearby mares called out, waving at him as she flicked the streak of white in her mane behind her ear. He nodded and waved back before looking over the copper cauldron he'd made.

I guess you could call the scroll-work cute, he thought as he rolled it over in his hooves and looked over the simple design. Peeking over at a nearby campfire, he saw the pot was blackened near the bottom, and the soot was creeping up the side. Looking at the black iron stand he used to keep it out of the direct fire, Pastel realized that he'd accidentally had something a snooty Unicorn would've had.

"Thanks," he called back. "They gave me it back clean and threw in the stand as well."

The brown pegasus mare winced a bit, nodding before she picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the pot on her fire. She muttered something under her breath that Pastel couldn't hear before looking over at his kit. "What's for breakfast, sweetie?"

"Oh, I've got some leftover bread and plenty of water now; I was thinking of making a soup out of the stuff I was able to forage," he said, standing and pushing the top of his body through the tent flaps. "I've got some wild mushrooms and some fiddleheads. Throw in some daylily roots, some dandelion, and it'll stretch all day."

He pulled out the mentioned foraging and looked into the mare's sorrowful eyes with some surprise.

"...I also have some wild blackberries?"

After a moment, she said, "Honey, c'mere and share some grass with us. You don't have to eat that emergency stuff; we have oats for meal and some gathered berries."

He felt his ears flick back, and he looked down and away for a moment before looking back at the mare. "I'm okay," he said softly.

Her eyes narrowed, but her voice was still soft as she said, "Honey, sorry if this is pushy, but I wasn't really asking. I'm not gonna let a colt go hungry when I've got plenty for my two and then some. Now, put your kit away and come grab some grass."

Pastel started to argue, but when he looked into her eyes, he saw nothing but the kindness and generosity he recognized from two of his best friends.

Biting his bottom lip, he took a couple of breaths before nodding and starting to put away his food, letting the embers in the fire pit he'd dug die a bit before using a hoof to finish them off.

Walking over with his blanket still over his shoulders, he nodded to the mare before sitting where she pointed.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Don't worry too much about it, honey," she said lightly, stirring the food he could now see to be porridge. "We take care of our own, and if Hollow let you sleep here, then you're our own."

Pastel felt some warmth stirring in his chest and pressed his hooves against his eyes for a moment to keep it inside before shaking his head.

"That means a lot to me," he said with a watery chuckle, sniffing before he got up and returned to his cart.

Shifting through his stuff, he found the small basket he'd woven and filled with berries before ultimately leaving the forest. Walking over, he pushed it towards the mare and said, "Here, I can at least contribute a little."

Her mouth firmed into a line, but Pastel opened the top and showed her the fresh food that nearly reached the top, and her gaze shifted down in intensity.

"Alright," she said with a small smile. "I'll take some. My name's Cherry Charm, by the way, and I'm sure you'll be meeting Shale Clip whenever he gets his flank outta bed," she said, raising her voice for the last sentence and lightly kicking the wheel nearest her.

He chuckled and offered out his hoof. "I'm Pastel Night. If he's the blue stallion, then I met him last night before Drifting Hollow had her talk with me."

She dipped her head, looking over the food before using a nearby ladle to fill three bowls. "Shale! Shale, get your lazy hide up and bring me another bowl!"

Grumbling, Shale poked his shaggy head of the back of the wagon next to Pastel. After blinking, he returned Pastel's small wave with a massive grin before nodding to Cherry. "A'ight, a'ight, 'm up," he grumbled softly before retracting his head and poking out a wing a moment later, offering out another clay bowl and an iron kettle. "I'll brin' out the tea," he muttered from inside.

"Make sure Rock Sugar's awake too," she called back, offering out a bowl of the gruel out to Pastel, topped with some blackberries from his basket. "You'll love Sugar. She's maybe your age," Cherry said as she tipped the blushing stallion a wink.

"I'm small for my age," Pastel told her with a smile as he took the bowl. "I'm already twenty-four."

"Hmmm," Cherry hummed, making a face. "Sugar just turned nineteen this summer," she said, frowning at him. "Five years ain't all that much, in the face of all things."

Pastel felt his face heating further, and Cherry laughed aloud and said, "Alright colt, you make up your own mind about it." She winked before leaning in to whisper, "She likes when colts compliment her mane. She's been growing it out for years."

Pastel didn't reply, just making himself busy with drinking the food from the bowl.

Shale tumbled from the wagon a bit later, more literally than when Pastel had exited his own, and Cherry fussed over him as he sat upright in front of the fire. Taking the bowl offered to him, he slurped at it for a few moments before looking over at Pastel.

"How'd the talk with Hollow go?"

Pastel sighed and finished off the food in his bowl before holding it in front of his chest. "Well, she said I'd be welcome with you while you were camped here, and she'd be talking with me throughout the time of the camp. We talked some about my family last night, and about the wagon they gave me, and what I was good at."

Shale took a moment to move closer and put his hoof on Pastel's shoulder.

Smiling at him for an instant, Pastel went on, "I'm a bit of a tinkerer. I like making little things like fire strikers and other tools. Dad specialized in fine detail, and he made everything from cross-staves to sundials. I was working on a water clock that measured minutes accurately until the unicorns took everything. I'm kind of reset now. Guess I'll try and start making stuff like dad's," he said, trailing off purposefully.

"Sounds like a lot of smarts work," Shale said with a chuckle. "Has Cherry told you about our daughter? She's about your age..."

Pastel chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, actually. She said that if I was interested, then I should say something like—"

At that moment, a mare poked her head out of the back of the wagon. Her fur was the same warm brown as her mother's, and her feathers were trimmed with the same cream color as the streak in Cherry's hair. Instead of the burgundy red, her long braid was a lighter shade, with a streak of her father's mane color running through from her ears to the tip of her ponytail. Her eyes were the same warm, loving brown, and as she gave Pastel a glance and a small smile, he couldn't help but speak out loud.

"I-I-I really like your mane?" he managed to squeak out.

Rock Sugar blushed and gave him a firmer look while her parents both snickered at him from behind hooves.

"And who in the hay are you?" she asked, and the quiet laughter turned into outright belly laughs.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

It took a little while for Dusk— No, for Pastel to integrate into the caravan. The ponies mostly welcomed him quickly enough, for sure, with even the most standoffish of ponies merely ignoring his presence instead of interacting with him.

After breakfast, he'd been placed into the middle of the traveling order, among the families and elders, with the stronger backs roving ahead, behind, and beside the caravan.

As he pulled his wagon along that first day, he found himself unable to do anything but smile at the groups of little colts and fillies running around wagons and underhoof. Though they were notably careful with both the wagon wheels and the grown-up hooves on the road, a lesson likely given early and often.

While his place in the traveling was easy and quick to be found, his place in the caravan itself wasn't either. While he had some little knowledge of how the little gadgets popular at the time worked, he didn't have any tools or real first-hoof experience with them.

He'd at least been able to repair a lighter used by a pegasus family. Or at least replace the flint used to spark the initial flame. He'd been finding that, along with their unfamiliarity with working with clouds and other air currents, pegasi just weren't used to moving their wings the same way. He was by far the most dexterous pony with his wings that many of the caravanners had seen.

He'd even managed to only drop one of three apples with his attempt at juggling, much less than his usual sum of 'all'.

"How you holdin' up, Pastel?"

He missed a hoofstep as he jumped into the air until the hitching that held the wagon to his sides pulled him back to the earth.

Ignoring the nearby snickering, he took a breath before glancing over at Rock Sugar.

"You nearly scared the skin off'a me, Roxie," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'm doing alright, although I guess I'm not as used to the walking as I used to be. My left front hoof is aching a bit."

"Not hard to scare a pony that's out in the fields like you were," she teased with a smile before nudging the fork of the wagon next to his side. "This isn't digging into your hide? I know you said that Canterlot tried to fix your wagon before giving it back, but this cloth looks like it'll rub you raw, or at least hairless."

"Oh no," he chuckled, looking back at the strap. "I didn't know that wagon-coat was a real thing. It should be fine; I sewed some padding into it."

"Still, you should be wearing something under all those straps," Roxie said, tugging on one of the pieces of cloth. "Then the straps will rub on that, instead of your coat. You should pick up a vest maybe, or just use a thin blanket."

"Won't that make me sweat?"

Roxie snorted, smirking at him. "You afraid of a lil' sweat, stallion?"

"I'm afraid of how I'll smell every night," he chuckled before shaking his head. "A vest, huh? What color do you think it should be?"

She looked him over and snorted. "I mean, brown will match the mane, and pink matches the coat. Maybe a dark blue? I'm not really the mare to ask about clothing."

"Just mane styling then?" he asked lightly, smirking at her.

She gave him a flat look that was ruined by the tinge of color in her cheeks, and she nudged him. "Hey now, just because I know how to take care of mine doesn't mean I'm here for all of your questions." They walked for a couple of moments before she looked away. "Besides, I like the rough cut anyway."

Pastel felt himself blush as he chuckled weakly and ran a hoof through his mane.

Then both of them flinched as somepony on the sidelines let out a wolf-whistle, and the rest of the surrounding ponies chuckled.

"Anyway!" Roxie said loudly, looking around before settling her gaze on the sky. "Mom wanted me to come over to invite you over to lunch. Guess I'll head back now!"

"I'll be there," he chuckled, nodding and watching her fall back towards Cherry in her own harness.

The rest of the morning's walk was uneventful, and Pastel sighed happily when the call was made to break formation. He parked his wagon in the grass field they'd stopped by, making sure to keep near Cherry's cart. Waving at Roxie, he moved over and asked, "Anything I can do to help set up?"

"Sure, honey, go with Sugar here and refill our water," she said, opening the wooden door to the back of her wagon and moving the cloth inside out of the way. "You can push a fifty-gallon barrel, yeah?"

"Ma, that's dad's job," Roxie said, frowning.

"It's a strong pony's, definitely," she said with a nod, smiling at Pastel. "Think you can handle it?"

He swallowed and looked at Rock Sugar. "I've got a little cask, can you...?"

"Easily," she smirked. "Don't hurt yourself."

Pastel nodded back, and while she walked over to his wagon, he stood on his back hooves and looked into Cherry's wagon for the first time.

He whistled lowly as he looked over the four panels with a narrow channel built between them as a walkway. Three held bedclothes and pillows, while the fourth was filled with cooking gear and bric-a-brac, with a rope curtain securing more items to the front of the wagon. Cherry was untying a large barrel from the wall and gently tipped it before rolling it back towards Pastel.

"It's still got a little water in it, but some fresh stuff will taste better," she said as he caught the rolling wood. It sloshed against his hoof, and he guessed it was maybe a fifth full.

"Uh, sorry, but how do I fill it?" he asked, looking at the corked top.

"There should be a unicorn around," Cherry chuckled. "You let them know it's for Shale Chip; it'll get filled." Her smile dipped. "If it's too heavy, you let me know, right? Don't hurt yourself on my behalf."

Picking up the barrel carefully, Pastel took a couple of tottering steps back on two hooves before placing the barrel on the grass.

"I should be okay," he said, returning her admiring gaze with a soft smile. "Besides, Rocks should keep me from doing anything too dumb."

"And then I know you'll get hurt," she chuckled before nodding over his shoulder. "Go on then, follow the line into the woods over there, and you'll find the stream that Lance spotted for us."

"Should I just... roll it?" he asked, and Cherry laughed before nudging him with a shoulder.

"You get it there and back however you like. Just watch out for rocks. These're hard to make and expensive to buy."

Nodding, he weighted the barrel again and lifted it onto his back, spreading his wings to keep it on top of his back. "It's not so bad right now," he murmured, wriggling his hips to get it to rest better. "Be right back then."

"Thank you!" Cherry called out as he began to move away. "And be careful!"

Pastel chuckled under his breath as he paused to wave a hoof back at her. Walking carefully to keep the barrel balanced, he started to make his way towards the trail he'd seen most of the caravan heading down.

"Wow, who're you showing off for?"

Snorting, Pastel glanced over his shoulder as Roxie trotted up beside him. "Your mom," he said before sticking his tongue out.

He snickered at her face as he turned back to the trail, his ears already picking up the trickle of water over stone. "I'm not showing off for anyone," he said, inching to the left to dodge a branch low enough to touch the barrel, "just proving that I can be useful."

"Just don't prove that you can break your own back," she murmured before shaking his little water cask. "Where'd you get this anyway? I don't think I've seen one this small that's this well put together."

"Used to be my grandfather's canteen," Pastel made up on the spot. "Big old stallion, he carried it around his neck with a rope sling. Emptied it with half a swallow every time he drank."

He glanced over at her and returned her look with a small smile. "It's just an old family pass-down," he chuckled.

"Mhm. You always sass mares?" Roxie asked, moving in to nudge him but backing off with a glance at the barrel on his back.

"Only the ones asking for it," he replied, pausing as they rounded a bend in the trail and seeing the small creek. "Hmm, let's go upstream a bit, the colts are already splashing, and I see some laundry drying."

She followed along and pointed him to a specific unicorn that was happy to fill their water containers.

"Alright, I didn't see any rocks in the path, so we should be able to roll the water just... fine..."

Roxie trailed off as she watched Pastel gently tested the weight of the filled barrel before lifting it back onto his back with a slight grunt. He let out a steadying breath before looking over at her. "By the way, ol' grandad was an earth pony." He turned away and started walking, mostly to hide the grin he couldn't wipe off his face.

After five steps, he heard her run up and past him, turning and stopping in the path back through the trees.

"Whoa, Pastel, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, reaching out and gently touching his front legs and shoulders. "I mean, even dad only carries this thing in emergencies. It's stupid heavy..."

"I'm good, Roxie, really," he said, throwing in a shrug. "I meant it about my grandad being an earth pony, and he was built. This is heavy, but if it were going to hurt me, it would've been when I picked it up."

She muttered under her breath for a moment before he started to walk forward. She let him pass by her and quickly kept his pace beside him.

"You drop that thing if something changes," she told him, still looking at his side and legs worriedly.

The rest of the walk back was silent, but for a small grunt from Pastel as he ducked under the same branch from before. He noted a few whistles as he passed, which he returned with nods, and few more appraising looks at him, which he ignored with a faint blush.

Cherry spotted him from yards away and stopped moving around the firepit to watch him slowly walk up to her.

"Put it down," she quietly said.

"Sure," he said, nodding to the closed door of her wagon. "If you'd open that, I'll have it back in place—"

"Put it down now," she said, a look in her eyes that Pastel recognized from his own mother.

Quickly bending his knees, he tucked in a wing and let the barrel roll off his back before straightening his legs and putting a hoof on the barrel. "Okay, down, now—"

She marched over to him and pressed a hoof down between his shoulders, raising herself to look over his back and running a hoof over the muscles that ran over his shoulder and down his right leg. Giving him a couple of nudges, she took a few steps back and looked at him carefully.

"That barrel should weigh over thirty stone right now if you filled it," she said, "and I can hear the water moving in there."

"My grandad was an earth pony," he said, shrugging.

Her eyes narrowed, looking him over and snorting. "Horseapples," she said, gesturing to his wings. "I've seen what happens when we interbreed. Your frame isn't big enough, and your wings are too big. I don't give a damn what stock you're from, but you aren't shaped right for that to be true."

Pastel breathed out through his nose slowly, his mind whirling and lashing out against itself.

Good job, Dusk old boy, you've shown off, and now you reap the benefits. Was it worth it? Saving, what, two minutes to not have to roll the damn thing? You idiot.

Letting another slow breath out through his nose, he deliberately shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Cherry," he said slowly. "I can pick up the barrel and carry it, and my wings are the size that they are. I can't ask the ponies who would know for sure."

Her eyes narrowed, but Pastel sighed and held up a hoof. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured, shaking his head. "That wasn't fair—"

"No, Pastel, it wasn't," Cherry cut out, frowning at him. "Are you really okay with bringing out your dead parents to make me stop asking you questions?"

He flinched and then hoped it looked like it was more about the parents and less about him being called on that.

"No," he whispered. "I'm not okay."

And with that, he turned around, pausing only to collect his cask from Rock Sugar, taking it and himself into his wagon and letting the cloth door fall behind him.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Later that same day, Roxie gently knocked on the bed of his wagon and pushed her head through the cloth doors.

"Hey," she said softly to the bundle of sheets, blankets, and pony that she found.

"Hey," it said back.

She watched the bundle for a bit before clearing her throat. "Want to talk about it?"

The bundle moaned before Pastel poked his head out. "No, I don't," he sighed. "I just want to apologize and move on from it. I didn't mean to make Cherry worry like that, and I shouldn't have been showing off in the first place."

"While that's true," she said, hauling herself into the bed of the wagon, "that's not what I'm here to talk about, and not what I think you need to talk about."

Pastel sat up and moved over to give her space to sit beside him.

"I don't know what else there is to talk about," he said, leaning back against the side of the wagon. "My parents, my friends, everypony I ever knew, is gone."

He had to stop himself from telling her that it was all his fault.

She was quiet for a while before gently slinging her leg around his shoulder and giving him an awkward squeeze.

"But you're here," she said quietly. "And while I know nopony will ever replace your parents, you can always make more friends, right?"

Pastel chuckled dryly before reaching over and pulling his canteen over. Taking a long swing, he twisted the stopper back in before he leaned into her shoulder.

"My first friend, my longest one too, was named Spike. He was a little brother to me, adopted after his parents left him behind. I was there when he was born, and we spent all of his life together," he started.

Taking only short pauses to drink and refill his canteen, Pastel told Roxie all about his first five new friends and some of the hi-jinks they'd gone through that made sense for the current time. Everything from AJ's stubborn pride eventually leading to food poisoning for everypony around her to Glimmer's accidental ensorcelling of the ladies when she was trying to make friends. The only thing he left out of every story was the names, only telling her Spike's.

After he'd been quiet for a long while, Roxie gently asked, "What happened to them?"

Pastel shivered. "The same thing, all of them. It doesn't matter what it is, what it was. They're all far, far beyond my hooves."

Roxie squeezed him gently. "Do you want to join them?" she quietly asked.

He snorted. "More than anything, but I'm not trying to send myself on to the next life," he said, shaking his head. "I can't imagine what they'd say or what they could do. So, yes, but I'm not killing myself to get to them."

He felt her nod, the bottom of her chin brushing one of his ears.

"You know," she said after a moment, "I might not be able to sew like your unicorn friend, but I do know a thing or two about taking care of my coat and mane. And, I don't know if you've met him, but there's a stallion named Zucchini Bread who likes making new pastries. We wouldn't be replacements, but... Well, we'd be friends," she finished, a bit awkwardly.

Pastel tried to think about that, about anything, but he was tired again, and he found himself merely nodding.

"I think..." He sighed, pulling away and giving her shoulder a friendly nuzzle. "I think I'd like that. I'd like to try, at least."

She smiled, returning the nuzzle before jerking her head to the door.

"The caravan awaits, then," she said, smiling gently.

Pastel took a deep breath, stood and let the blankets and sheets fall from his back, and nodded.