“Like a foal,” Twilight Sparkle had said.
Which certainly didn’t explain much. Tempest Shadow lingered languidly in the lobby of one of Twilight’s private offices. The one in the Friendship Castle this time, as Twilight invariably inhabited this one around Hearth’s Warming even though she’d assumed the rulership of Equestria three years ago.
Canterlot suited Tempest more, and Twilight always dispatched her on missions from there anyway, so she’d rarely wandered down to Ponyville. Except something had caught her attention: an extra spring in Twilight’s step upon announcing her visit this year.
Had she acted the same in previous years and Tempest had simply missed it? Possibly. Her mind merely managed military might and informed international intrigue, but the extra light in her liege’s eyes finally registered with her and made her ask why.
Tempest let out a sigh and pushed open the doors that led outside. Pinkie had plastered posters and draped dainty decorations all over town, and when Tempest had glimpsed them all out Twilight’s window and cracked a smile at it, she had wondered what worked everypony up so. And thus came Twilight’s answer: “Like a foal.”
She remembered her own foalhood, of course, but still, she could never quite surmount the mental block that told her it had been nothing but a time of misery and rejection, even though she knew better. “Leave it in the past,” Twilight had said. “Have a new Hearth’s Warming this year. Make magnificent melodies in your head, let lovely lyrical language live in your heart, wallow in the whispering wonder of the season.” Then came the biggest smile she’d ever seen on Twilight, which was saying a lot. “Like a foal.”
And darn it, Tempest was trying. All day long, alliterative song, the words in her mind left adult things behind, and she was trying. But it failed to foster festive feelings, so Twilight had asked her to make that her main mission for the day.
Pinkie Pie seemed the easy route. Only she could use “Fizzlepop Berrytwist” without earning a scalding glare in return. Well, easy in a way. Pinkie could leave anypony in high spirits, though often a bit confused as to why.
So Twilight had suggested Sweetie Belle, and to her knowledge, Tempest had never met her before. If it didn’t work, then an invitation to have holiday dinner at the castle with Twilight would do, and the princess would explain everything, but of course learning the lesson by herself would make it sink in more. Tempest did understand that.
Time sure passed quickly when Tempest found herself deep in thought. Here she stood, already staring up at a rather nice clubhouse on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. Not too structurally intimidating, but still the tactical high ground—no, no! She tip-tapped a tentative hoof-tip to her tête. Like a foal.
What a wondrous hidey-hole! One could gaze upon the scenery all around, have a nice secluded spot to do some coloring, or—well, hang out with friends, though a frowny face formed. Yes, she’d made her peace with Glitter Drops, but she still couldn’t quite envision herself engaging in any childlike pursuits with her. Alone, then.
She walked up the ramp to the sounds of faint humming from inside. A voice as clear as a bell, and the tintinnabular tinkling tantalized her ears to the point she could even wrap her thoughts around the melody. Oh blow, winds, blow, the drifts of snow will ne’er our friendships chill. The stars’ soft glow will let us show the love’s warmth we hold still.
Twilight’s admonition helped her get in the mindset and form the little sing-song silliness that could let her experience the holiday in a way she never had, or maybe forgot. But to feel them, to mean them… she hadn’t gotten there yet.
Tempest poked her head through the doorway. “Hello?”
Sweetie Belle looked up, her mouth slightly agape.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tempest continued. “I should have knocked before entering.”
“No problem,” Sweetie Belle replied with a swift, swishy smile. “Twilight told me to expect you.”
That didn’t bode well. “And… what did she put you up to?”
“She didn’t say.” A frilly flick of her hoof beckoned Tempest in. “Usually I help ponies with their cutie marks. Were you having some trouble with that?”
Briefly, Tempest glanced back at her flank, covered as it always was with her tactical bodysuit. “No.”
Sweetie Belle’s own eyes wandered that way as well. “I don’t think I’ve seen your cutie mark before. What is it?”
“That’s not important.”
“Then why did she send you to me?”
Tempest hadn’t exactly planned on getting anypony else too involved. If Twilight had wanted to send her on a cloak and dagger mission to retrieve some piece of insight, fine, but not even informing her contact? She quickly let the center of her vision blur and evaluated what she could see in her periphery. Out the window, no surveillance. No magical listening devices present, either, just this… this child.
Like a foal.
She sat down in one of the empty chairs. Why couldn’t she shut down the part of her brain that endlessly told her to beware what lay around the next corner, to regard even her closest comrades with suspicion, to take her job with her wherever she went, whatever she did? “Twilight said I didn’t understand what Hearth’s Warming was about.” Tempest blinked once and gazed over the pages strewn about the table: crayon drawings of Santa Hooves. “She said I’d lost my connection to my childhood.”
Rather like this chair. Its height placed her far closer to the floor than she was accustomed to; she might as well have simply sat on the floor, and then her more… adult-sized haunches wouldn’t hang over the edges. She took a deep breath and scooted up to the table.
Like a foal.
“Well, grab a crayon and join in!” Sweetie Belle replied, already diving back into her task. “Apple Bloom and Scootaloo did some of these with me before school, but now they’re home helping their families get dinner ready.”
Tempest idly took hold of a crayon in her shaky, shimmery magical grip, and scratched out a silly stick-figure Santa. “Don’t you have to as well?”
“Not yet,” Sweetie Belle said with a shake of her head. “My sister Rarity insists on a proper feast, and while she could probably make something to those standards, she prefers to order it from a fancy restaurant, so I don’t have to leave until it’s time to help her carry it home.”
“Oh, Rarity’s your sister?” Tempest asked. She squinted one eye and stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she attempted a more accurate drawing. “I didn’t realize.”
Funny, the little loopy lines on her page had her smiling. The day’s good cheer had brought her here for such a special time of year, as Twilight said, but in her head, she’d rather be alone instead. But not so fast—her distant past had sparked a memory at last. But blurry yet: a pirouette of steam from yummy chocolate. “Do you smell hot cocoa?”
A small giggle escaped Sweetie Belle’s lips. “Yep! I came here straight from tutoring at the School of Friendship, and I brought a couple cups of Headmare Starlight’s empathy cocoa. I thought they just might come in useful. Would you like one?”
“Mmhmm.” Santa’s hat didn’t have quite enough of a fluff puff. She gave it a nice tufty tip, and wouldn’t it look better if she glued a cotton ball to it? It would do, though. She took a swift swig of the steaming beverage in front of her. “There,” she said with a final stroke of her red crayon, “as instructed.”
Sweetie Belle gave a goofy grin and glance. “Nice. But it’s not like this was homework.”
“No, I didn’t…” With a frown, Tempest held a hoof to her chin. Had she only followed orders, those of Twilight and Sweetie Belle? She’d certainly sat down to her task in such a manner. But there was something else, just beyond her grasp.
Sweetie Belle’s mouth opened, and she tensed her jaw just a bit, but whatever had been poised to spill out instead rested on a languid smile. “Is the cocoa good?”
“Yes, though I can’t say I’m experienced enough with cooking to identify all the flavors. Peppermint, I know, but… cinnamon? Nutmeg?” She took another tantalizing taste test and breathed in the sparkling sumptuous steam. Something about it loosened the muscles all down her back.
Which didn’t go without notice, as Sweetie Belle followed the ripple of relaxation. “I’d thought about making some cards for my family, too, but—” she pointed out the window “—it’s starting to get dusky. Do you want to watch the Windigo Patrol?”
Tempest sat bolt upright. “Do they need help organizing a defense?” Then she leaned in and hissed, “I thought windigoes weren’t real, though.”
“Well… yes and no. The Patrol is just for show, to commemorate the way they were banished long ago. It’s for the foals. Don’t you remember?”
Had she heard that before? “I guess… yes, once when I was over at Glitter’s house. She looked out the window trying to find pegasi just before dark, but she never really explained why.”
“Just like the weather service reporting on Santa Hooves sightings. It gets kids excited. Or those who are kids at heart.”
By Tempest’s reckoning, Sweetie Belle qualified as a kid, period. But Tempest did follow her beckoning over to the window and pulled up a cushion.
The evening light softened all to a pleasant painted purple, and… hm, she could blend in well right now. It would make excellent camouflage. No, no, no!
Like a foal.
She peered up as the darkness crept in with visible speed, the upper points of the taller buildings still awash in the last bits of orange, and the cloudless sky so clear that each individual star shone like little spear points. Never moping—hoping, yearning, feathered wings all sloping, turning, Luna’s night will keep her sleepers, safe from harm, from jeepers creepers…
For a filly-sized moment, Tempest’s heart fell. The little songs had risen in her heart, and she’d gotten close to what Twilight wanted for her, but this song, it—
Luna, helping to keep everypony safe from danger. The same Luna she’d betrayed and imprisoned.
Then a thrill ran down her spine. Movement! “Did you see—?”
Sweetie Belle followed her extended hoof and giggled. “Yeah, that’s Bulk Biceps. He volunteers every year.”
“Another!” Tempest cried, her breath partially fogging the window as she leaned forward.
“That’s Thunderlane.”
“There they go! Are they chasing one?” Another giggle sounded from beside her. Yes, she remembered, peering over the rooftops with Glitter Drops, the pegasus flight holding back fright, keeping count—who would win? Glitter had seen three, but Fizzy could swear she’d counted the same one twice.
Glitter—no, Sweetie Belle—she leaned in front of Fizzy—Tempest—and smiled. “The first time I ever stayed up to look for them, my sister Rarity had a better time just watching me than paying attention herself.”
On a whim, Tempest returned to her Santa drawing and folded it in half before scribbling on the outside: “To Twilight Sparkle, Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
“How late do the pegasi stay out on patrol?” she asked.
Sweetie Belle momentarily scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know. I’ve never stayed up late enough to be sure. We could ask Rainbow Dash, if you really wanted to know. I bet she could tell us.”
“No, it’s not important.” She rested her chin on a hoof and scanned over the drawing Sweetie Belle had completed. Beside Santa stood a large tree. Some tinsel to pop and a star up on top, with the strings of bright lights holding off the night frights of the frosty foes roaming through windigoes’ gloaming…
She must have begun humming one of the Hearth’s Warming carols, because Sweetie Belle had added her lovely voice, but now stared at her. “Why’d you stop?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Under the waxy tree lay an array of cheery packages. Gifts? “Was I supposed to get a present for Twilight Sparkle? Or—” her cheeks ran cold “—was I supposed to bring one for you? I’m sorry if I should have! I didn’t realize—”
“It’s alright,” Sweetie Belle said, holding up a hoof. “It’s not expected at all. You’re new to this, and everypony understands that.”
“No, no, I do remember gifts from when I was little. I just didn’t think…”
“It’s alright,” Sweetie Belle repeated. “That’s not the point anyway.”
“Then what is?”
Sweetie Belle only gave another of her mysterious grins. “I should go soon, to help Rarity carry dinner home.”
Tempest’s answering smile faded. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
But Sweetie Belle had paused in the doorway and extended a forehoof back toward her. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”
“I… But you don’t even know me.”
“Twilight said you could have dinner with her if you didn’t make any other plans, right?” That grin warped into a smirk.
“Yes…”
“How did that make you feel?”
At the time, it seemed more like a work thing. But now that she thought about it… “I appreciated that she wanted to spend time with me.”
Oh, but that meant—“I don’t want to spurn her invitation!” Tempest said.
“Think about the way she told you. It sure sounded like she thought it would be good for you if you did make other plans. So why don’t you have dinner with my family?”
Twilight had mentioned something about not being alone on Hearth’s Warming. “You don’t mind?”
“It’s a time for friends!”
Tempest began to open her mouth. Yes, Sweetie Belle didn’t know her. And if it felt that good to have Twilight ask, then how much better for somepony who had no motive at all? From Sweetie Belle’s nod, she’d anticipated just that question.
“A-alright,” Tempest replied, suddenly feeling very light on her hooves. Outside, the fluffy flakes fell in downy diamond drifts. A curl of snow, a swirl wind blow—long ago! She plowed through pearlescent peaked piles, then stopped and flopped, on her back, although her lack: no wings to flap, yet sings, mayhap, her arms suffice, make wings of ice—
Yes. W-with Glitter Drops, she used to make snow alicorns. The songs and rhymes used to run through her head then, too.
“And thank you, Sweetie Belle.”
“Rarity will have a present for you. I told her you’d probably be coming along, so she thought it proper to make you something. Even if you didn’t come, she would have dropped it off at Twilight’s castle for you.”
By the twitching of the filly’s nose, she knew more than she let on. “What… what is it?”
And her nose twitched even more, her ears joining in as well. “You’ll see when you open it after dinner.”
“Oh… okay.”
“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t drive yourself nuts wondering about it.”
Tempest frowned. “But why would I…?” Then she grinned. Like a foal. The piece she’d lost her grasp on so long ago. The piece Twilight wanted her to find. The piece she had found here without even realizing it! The drawings, the cards, watching the Windigo Patrol, dinner with friends, agonizingly anticipatory attention awaiting her gift. “Because it’s fun.”
Sweetie Belle doused the light and led the way down the ramp through the soft, silent snow sponging all sound. But even in the dimness, Tempest could see a broad grin on her.
What could her gift be? Say a hat or a cloak—it could mask her like smoke! No, less work and more play, hm, some nice gourmet hay? Or a book, or a ring! It could be anything! But it didn’t depend—she could share with a friend.
“Thank you,” Tempest said again. The music in her head: how had Twilight known? Though maybe in Equestria, everypony had songs running through their minds all the time. That seemed to fit. Except she’d forgotten hers long ago, and it had only emerged once since then, when she…
When she was with Twilight Sparkle. As her captor. And now her friend. It had returned.
Like a foal. “And call me Fizzy,” she said.
Author's Note
For those who haven’t read the comics, Glitter Drops is one of Tempest’s childhood friends shown in the movie.
