Dreamwalker's Tale: An Anthology

Infinite possibilities. That sometimes sounded really nice. Like: The good guys always win. It sounds exhausting as well, because it means that there is just so much of everything. But in the end, there is an inherent issue with ‘infinite possibilities’. Nothing means anything anymore. And if we are truly speaking of infinity, then we are speaking of infinite failure, infinite defeat and infinite suffering as well.

There is this saying that we are all just stardust. That we are the universe, entertaining and amusing itself. To some, this saying is soothing. It seems to lift a heavy burden from their shoulders and allows them to breathe easier. To me? To me, it was always terrifying. The universe apparently has a wicked and twisted sense of humor. And the cruelest mechanic it ever created for itself was that one can reach something good through experiencing something bad. The cruelty of that mechanic lies in its inherent uncertainty. The bad times might just go on forever. They could, after all. It is perfectly possible. Or the good thing on the other side might not be worth what one had to go through. Or better still — that bad thing? It might be the last thing as well.

I am cursed to endlessly wander this Celestia-forsaken void. It is dark. It is cold. It is lonely. And he, oh well. He is cursed to forget and repeat, to end and start in an endless cycle, to truly experience infinite possibilities.

My name is Dreamwalker.

It is the first conscious thought I remembered. It was accompanied by the first conscious sensory input: Everything was spinning. Which was quite impressive, given that I laid on the ground. Still, it was too much for my empty stomach. It twisted itself into a knot and forced bile up my throat. I coughed, my body shook and I spewed what little liquid was brought up out of my muzzle and onto the ground.

I tried to open my eyes on instinct. With such awful vertigo, surely seeing something, focusing my eyes on a fixed point, would help. But as soon as I cracked them open, everything got that little bit worse. A flood of muted colors assaulted my brain. It felt like needles piercing my eyes. And why in Celestia’s dawn would I know how that felt…?

So I closed my eyes again. Pressed my lids firmly shut. And resigned myself to weather the storm. And after a couple of seconds — or minutes maybe, who could tell, really — I realized that my idiom might be more literal.

It rained.

It completely baffled me how I had failed to notice it earlier. The soft pitter-patter was quite noticeable now that I had realized its existence. With my eyes closed, my other senses sharpened. I felt the small droplets bombard my coat like siege weaponry. Every drop that hit my temple sent a little jolt of pain into my skull. Worse still were those that hit my horn.

Horn. Right. Unicorn.

I tried to distract myself by thinking. I tried to remember. It was clear that I had names to throw around. Sky, dawn, Celestia, Dreamwalker, unicorn, rain, bile. I could label things. That was already worth a lot. But my head was a jumbled mess otherwise. I smelled my vomit nearby, even though the rain had probably washed it away or at least diluted it significantly. Or maybe I smelled my own breath. My ears tried to train themselves on each and every sound, which — given the rain — was a bit of an issue as well. My stomach growled, both in hunger and still upset about all the vertigo. And to top it all off: I was freezing.

No wonder there, really. I laid in a muddy puddle. My entire left side was drenched by ice-cold rainwater. Blades of grass tickled my backside. My mane and tail were dripping, limp messes sprawled on the ground. I almost felt stuck. Glued to the floor.

All these continuous distractions made it so much harder to focus on any conscious thoughts. What was I doing out here? Where exactly was ‘here’ to begin with? Had I hit my head?

“I need to get up,” I croaked. And truly, my own voice startled me for a moment. It sounded hoarse, strained. Tired.

I pushed past all this as best as I could. I had faced worse. I was sure about that, even though I could not name anything specific. I could not remember anything. Just names. And a strange flood of bits and pieces, as disjointed scraps of vague memories flew by. I heard voices I could not label with a name. With my eyes closed, I even saw occasional blurry images rush by. Of places. Of ponies I might have known. Or was supposed to know? Most of them smiled. And for some reason, that was a relief as much as it caused my heart to ache.

“Come on,” I tried to psych myself up. “On three. One. Two. Two and a half. Two and three quarter.” I summoned whatever strength I had. It felt like grasping at straws. But it somehow worked anyway. I managed to roll onto my belly. Water and mud slid down my side. The feeling was disgusting and made me shudder. Then again, how could I tell? I was shivering the entire time anyway. “Three.”

As I hoisted myself up onto my legs, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. For about four seconds, until my legs buckled and simply gave out. I collapsed back down to the floor. At least there were a lot of muddy puddles to soften my landing. What a great relief. “Ew.”

Standing did not seem like much of an option right now. But! The mere attempt to stand up had done something for my nausea and vertigo. I opened my eyes again and did not immediately feel the need to vomit. The world even seemed to slow down somewhat. And I managed to focus my gaze on a point in the maybe-near distance.

I saw a lot of green.

It should not have been too much of a surprise, given that I laid in a wide field of grass, but that green over there was different. Darker. Not just because of the dark gray sky overhead, but darker in general. Broken up by bits and pieces of brown. It took me an embarrassingly long time to find the appropriate labels: Trees. Wood. Forest.

The Everfree.

I immediately grimaced. A flood of broken memories managed to tell me the basics: I had more than enough reason to be as far away from that dreadful place as possible. And yet I felt a certain… sorrow. I felt like I missed something. This isn’t right! Something should be here. There. Whatever. My eyes scanned the treeline. The canopies of these twisted and gnarled trees. What was I missing? What was I searching for?

A bird. A song.

Not a song, no. Just… noise. There was supposed to be this one bird, this very annoying one that I always heard when—

When what?

I had no answer. Maybe I came here regularly? It would make sense, right? After all, Fluttershy’s cottage was not too far away. She could probably even see me if she were to look out of her front window.

Fluttershy.

Another name. A face. Her pale golden coat. Cyan eyes. Gentle and warm. Full of patience. And kindness. Maybe she would be able to help me? Maybe she could help me piece together what had happened. Who I was. Why I was here.

Maybe she had a towel or four.

I needed to get up. I managed to crane my head around enough to even spot her cottage and truly, it was not that far away. I needed to get up and walk over there. Somehow. “On three.” I tried to trick myself as I summoned whatever strength was left in the nooks and crannies of my body. “Aaand… three!”

I stood again. And I could already feel the unwillingness of my legs crawl up to my knees again. “Oh no you won’t!” I firmly planted my legs a good distance apart from each other. It probably looked absolutely ridiculous, but at least it made it impossible for me to keel over. And if, by some miracle, somepony was actually out here and witnessed my poor display of bodily control, maybe they would take pity on me and come over to help me. After all, just about any and all residents of Ponyville were really lovely ponies, always helpful and cheery and—

Ponyville.

My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks and I once again carefully craned my neck. I could see the little rural village in the distance. Those houses looked really pretty. Cozy. I saw the town hall and carousel boutique. And I saw the crystal castle.

Twilight.

My throat tightened. I had no idea what was happening. Or why. But within seconds, tears filled up my eyes and spilled across my cheeks. Hot streams ran down to my chin, from where they dropped to the floor and mixed with rain and mud. I did not feel sad as such. No, I felt heartbroken. I felt lost. I felt cold beyond mere temperature. I felt loss.

I took a couple of shuddering breaths in a futile attempt to reign myself in. With my body being this cold, I already had to worry about catching a cold for good. And the hot tears only served to remind me of how much I could use a towel, a blanket, a hot chocolate or tea or a good fireplace. I would gladly have welcomed all of that, actually.

I waited for another… what was it? A minute? Two? Five? The vertigo and nausea might have receded slowly, but I still had difficulties gauging the passing of time. I felt more confident in my legs. And I wanted to turn around. To take a few, careful steps to test them out. And to get closer to that cottage. Fluttershy usually had open windows, I remembered. But she rarely locked her front door. Just in case some of her many animal friends needed emergency help. The bigger ones especially usually used the door. Like Harry.

Harry.

Harry was… no, not a dog. That was Winona.

Applejack.

Oh for crying out loud, this doesn’t get me anywhere useful right now! I huffed and tried to use that anger as fuel for my legs. And it would have worked, probably. But the very moment I attempted my first step, I heard something else.

I heard somepony humming. The melody was strangely off-kilter. I knew that voice. She could sing so beautifully. My ears swiveled around and focused themselves on her direction and my eyes quickly followed. Her pale mulberry coat, her dark blue mane with that one purple and raspberry streak. This time, my heart and throat were in perfect sync when they tightened. “Twilight,” I croaked so quietly that I honestly did not even hear it myself.

There was an overwhelming flood of memories. Of fondness and warmth and the expectation that now that she was here, with me, everything would work out. Everything would be sorted out. Everything would get better.

She noticed the dent my body had left in a particularly large puddle. Her brows furrowed and her beautiful violet eyes lifted. Our gazes finally met.

She looked surprised. And there was a bit of misery barely hidden behind that surprise. She was not especially keen on walking in the cold rain out in the open. I noticed those saddlebags slung across her back. Probably a trip to Zecora for some alchemical—

Zecora.

Yes, yes. Zebra, an alchemist, lives in the Everfree. I slowly got the hang of this remember-bits-and-pieces thing. But that was not important right now. She was. “Twilight,” I repeated a smidge louder. This time, I heard myself. Despite the rain. And I hoped she had heard me too.

“I am sorry, are you…” She stopped herself and looked back down at the vaguely pony-shaped dent in the ground. And then at my left side. Most of the mud was gone by now, of course. The rain never stopped. But I suspected she could still notice something that told her that yes, that was my favorite puddle to lie down in. Because she was smart like that. She was the smartest pony I knew. And I had always been attracted to intellig—

I violently shook my head to dislodge the thought. That was certainly not what was important right now. I took a few careful steps. Away from the cottage, yes, but what did the cottage matter now? I found her. I found Twilight. Everything would be fine now. There was no doubt in my mind about that.

“I need your help,” I started. Her expression morphed into worry. She saw every wibbly-wobbly step I took. I, however, barely noticed the tremor in my legs anymore. I was so laser-focused on her. I ingrained her facial features into my memory. And at the same time, I remembered her. I remembered her smile. The many, many different smiles she had. The smug one when she knew something better and was about to lecture me on the finer points on some topic. And I felt a smile of my own tug at my lips just from remembering that.

Or the happy one. Oh, I felt like I had seen that one a lot. And I had been the reason for it a lot as well. But not just me. All of our friends. Our friends. We had so many of them. Good friends. True and trusted. Bonds forged over years and years.

I remembered her cheeky smile. A rare one indeed. It had taken her quite some time to get comfortable enough to actually develop a persistent, recognizable smile for that. Nothing she did consciously, of course. Although that would have been a Twilight-thing to do. I remembered categorizing her many, many smiles with Pinkie at one point. Twilight had rolled with her eyes, but she had smiled. A happy one.

Suddenly I remembered another smile of hers. One reserved for a private setup. The ‘come get me’-smile. I remembered lying next to her. In the same bed. Under the same blanket. Soft moonlight filtered in through the gap in the curtains. It somehow made her even more beautiful. I remembered barely daring to breathe so as to not disturb this moment. She closed the gap… and kissed me. I vividly remembered that feeling of her warm, soft lips against mine. I remembered pulling her closer. How I dared to deepen that kiss. How I dared to let my hoof wander along her side. Over her pretty wings, which in turn rustled in barely contained excitement. I remembered how I wished that this moment would never, ever end and that I could kiss her for the rest of my life.

I kissed her.

Fractions of a second passed by before I realized the error. These memories, they were powerful stuff. I had completely lost myself in their alluring warmth. I had leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. And I kissed her. I tried not to panic as I withdrew from her. “I-I’m…” —sorry.

Say it.

Say it!

But I could not. Somehow, a voice in my head popped up instead. A heavy accent laced each and every word and I loved that voice and that accent so very much. Now, be honest, sugar cube. I did not know whose voice that was. A friend of mine, I suspected. But the very moment I heard those words, they became a mantra of mine. An irrefutable guideline for my life. I could not disobey this maxim.

And truth be told: I did not regret kissing Twilight. I could not. I could never.

But the timing of it all was just horrible.

I saw her grimace. She took a step back, then another. Her face hardened. Darkened. Wings. Castle. Crown. As my head rushed along to connect the dots, I was scared to ask. What was she thinking right now? Who did she think I was? What did she think I did that for?

“I know you!” I rushed ahead in an attempt to prevent the worst.

She barely nodded. “Oh I can imagine,” she spat. Literally. And only now did I remember the bile and smell and I felt even worse. “But I do not know you!”

I don’t care about your crown! I don’t care about your title! I’d very much prefer you without it. I just want you to—… to… I just want you!

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Terror was freezing my throat, my voice… and eventually gripped my heart. I saw that ship sail by. And I did not even do so much as wave at it. No, I botched it. Botched it all. And I was doomed to witness every agonizing second as I failed. As I lost her.

I am losing her.

Again.

Again?

I swallowed hard as my eyes glazed over again. I wanted to stop her. I wanted to beg for her forgiveness. A second chance. To start over. Do it right this time. The way it was meant to happen. But whatever I wanted to say, she shook her head. I swallowed hard as her raspberry magic enveloped her horn. “Whatever you need ‘help’ with, I am not sure I am the right pony to help you.” She grimaced. “Or that I even want to.”

That last statement hit me like a cart. One of Applejack’s carts. Laden with full barrels. Twilight never gives up. It was an irrefutable truth in my mind. She did not give up on a friend, any friend, ever. She did not give up in the face of adversity. She did not let any problem ever go unsolved. Because that was just who she was.

But she was willing to give up on me.

She did not even know me yet.

“I-I’m—“

A pop. The smell of ozone hit my nostrils quicker than the popping noise, for some reason. The bright purple flash meant I was blinded for a few seconds. And left was… nothing. An empty space where she had stood.

“—s-sorry,” I choked out.

She was gone.

Twilight was gone.

I had botched it. I had lost her. How could I have allowed for that? How could I lose her? Everything would have been fine with Twilight.

I broke down. Quite literally. I saw no reason to keep standing and my legs ached anyway. I fell to the ground and welcomed the numbing cold as it immediately got to work sucking all the warmth out of my body again. I did not mind the water. Or the mud, or the cold, or the misery. Seemed like good company right now. The only company I had.

The floodgates never closed again, it seemed. I still felt her lips on mine. The sensation was now an intermingled experience, both reality and memory fusing together. It felt right and wrong and right again. I could not make heads or tails of this dichotomy. She was the one, was she not? There was a chain of events supposed to happen here. A very specific chain with a very specific outcome. But now that she left and I missed my chance and I botched it all, my memories suddenly took a left turn and tried to tell me of other scenarios.

How could my own mind betray me like that?

How could you?

And what use was it to mull this over? She was gone. Not just gone home, oh no. I saw her face right before she teleported away. It was a miracle that she had not slapped me. Twilight almost never resorted to physical violence. But she almost slapped me. I had seen the indignation in her eyes. That betrayal of trust she felt. Ponyville was supposed to be different. She was supposed to be safe here. Safe from all those leeches. And I had popped that bubble.

Or maybe I was just reading too much into that.

At this point, I honestly had little idea of what to trust and how to proceed. I was deeply grieved. I had lost something important. Somepony important to me. Would she be willing to talk to me again? Ever? How was I supposed to reach ‘ever’?

Despite my emotions still running high, I tried to think. I tried to clear my head, tried to figure out what to do.

“Uhm… mister?”

My silent sob lodged itself in my throat when I heard her voice. And I tentatively dared to hope. She was the kindest pony I knew. She would be able to help me. Surely she would be able to help me. I raised my head out of the mud and craned my neck to look in the direction of her voice. Her lovely, soft, melodic voice.

Fluttershy stood maybe a dozen feet away. She used one of her wings as an umbrella for her pale, rose-colored mane. The other one shielded a towel from the water. She was always so thoughtful. She always tried to accommodate others. She was always nice.

“Are you okay, mister?”

My first impulse was to snort. But I kept it in. She was sensitive and easily scared away. “No. No, I’m not.” I hated, hated, hated how defeated my voice sounded. How lost and miserable.

She quickly glanced over to the point where Twilight had vanished from, but she did not say anything about that. If she had witnessed it to begin with. Her gaze instead returned to me. “Would you, uhm… like to come inside? It is raining. I could make a cup of hot chamomile tea, if you like?”

Kindness incarnate. Her offer was the one ray of sunshine I needed right now. She had always been such a good friend. And she was a great listener, was she not? Maybe that would help sort all this out. Maybe she could give me some advice. Maybe even help me by talking to Twilight? Maybe she could explain to her my situation. I would need to explain it to her in the first place, obviously. But I was looking forward to that. A nice, hot cup of tea. Fluttershy made great tea. I knew that from memories. Weird, jumbled memories.

And I allowed myself a smile. I hoped it conveyed even a fraction of the deep gratefulness I felt.

We would spend some time together. We would talk. I would get to curse Angel’s name under my breath again and was strangely looking forward to that. And she would get to know me. Again.

Yes. The more I thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. Not everything was lost. I could fix this. I could at least try. I would try. After all… I did that a lot.

“Thank you, Fluttershy!”

Distant thunder rumbled. And Fluttershy took half a step back. It took me a second to realize that she retreated from me. “How—? H-How do you know my n-name…?” Her eyes were wide. Her wings tucked closely to her body. Her now limp, drenched mane hid half of her face. And I noticed her gaze quickly shifting to the point where Twilight had stood.

I could see her connecting all the wrong dots. And I panicked. Again.

No, no, no, no, no! I can’t lose you too!

“Fluttershy, please!” I begged her, “Listen to me!” But she shook her head. Almost violently. As if my words were poison. She stared at my non-crooked horn. At my holeless legs. At my wingless back.

How long had it been since the wedding in Canterlot?

“Fluttershy, please! I’m not a—“

She turned around quicker than my eyes could follow. The movement was a blur to the point where she zipped back to her cottage. The door was only slightly ajar. The gap was enough for her to slip in and ram it shut.

I stared at that distant door for a good, long while.

My bottom lip started to quiver. Fresh tears welled up. I wondered how many more of these I had in store. My blurry gaze dropped and I noticed the towel. It lay in a puddle, drenched with water and sticky with mud. Just like me.

“Puddle-buddies,” I croaked quietly. It was such a stupid thing to say. And for some reason, it was enough to break the dam again. This time, there was no dignity in it. No restraint whatsoever. I did not try to hold anything back. I just sobbed and cried and pretended that it was all just thunder and rainwater.

And I shut down, in a way. I buried my muzzle on the ground, under my hooves, and I simply expelled the rest of the world from my mind. It was completely steeped in misery. What was the point? The point in trying? The point in standing up again? What was the freaking point in hoping?

Misery seemed like all there was. Just pain and disappointment. Trying and hoping only made it worse. Attempts could be thwarted. Hopes could be crushed. Why not just lie down? And stay down? Why should I not just simply stay in this stupid puddle and wait for the rain to drown me?

It would be a hilariously daft ending. Drowned in a puddle. Drowned by rain. Maybe somepony with an appropriately dark humor would get a chuckle out of this.

How long until Fluttershy would get impatient? Unwilling to wait any longer for Twilight’s summon. Until she would fly out, over to the castle, to inform her friend of the impending invasion attempt or whatever story she spun for herself. How long until the Elements of Harmony would show up and blast me with rainbow lasers? Would it work? What was being a statue for a thousand years even like?

I wallowed in my self-pity for entirely far too long. I simply could not escape that pit of pain and despair. Not on my own. And I once again failed to gauge how much time had passed until somepony else strayed into my area. I heard the approaching hoofsteps due to the squelching sound they made in the mud. They were not timid like I would have expected from Fluttershy, but they were careful. Almost cautious.

A short while later, somepony sat down next to me. “Hi.”

I felt like this one word alone should burst. It had to be so full of energy, it should pop like fireworks. But my memories once again betrayed me, or tried to. My ears told a different story. It was a friendly greeting, sure enough, but none of the exuberance was to be found.

And I could not help but grimace. It was the next best thing after recoiling in horror, which really was not an option. I wished she would stand up again. I wished she would walk away. I could not afford to lose another one of my dear friends. My heart could not take it.

Please, please, please, Pinkie. Go away.

But Pinkie was nothing if not tenacious. “I thought I was the only one who likes to take a stroll in the rain,” she continued as I failed to give her a proper greeting.

I sighed silently. My first attempt to speak failed. My lips felt glued shut and I had to poke little holes in between them with the tip of my tongue. I smacked my lips together and tried not to mind the rainwater too much. “You—“ I started and immediately cut myself off. There was a little voice in the back of my head, softly issuing a warning. I had been about to tell her that no, she did not like strolls in the rain to begin with. I knew that. Because I knew her. But that little voice insisted: There were details. Little things that changed every time. Personal preferences being one of them.

I had no idea what that meant. That favorite colors might change over time, sure enough. Favorite foods, pastimes and hobbies, stuff like that. But what was this nagging voice getting at with ‘every time’?

I pushed the thought aside. It was not helpful right now. And I finished my sentence with something that had immediately come to mind as well the very moment she sat down beside me. “You are going to catch a cold.” Pinkie had a very adorable sneeze. Not as cute as Fluttershy’s, but maybe cute in a different way. That obviously did not change the fact that being sick sucked and that I did not wish for my friend to get sick in the first place.

“No I’m not, silly.” It somehow baffled me how easily she disagreed. With the persistent rain being this cold, the ground being muddy all over the place and her rump firmly planted in a puddle, how could she disagree?

I felt a sudden change as my upper body half was no longer assailed by the droplets from above. It was enough that I finally tilted my head and looked at her. And there was a tug at the corners of my lips for a second. She wore her ridiculous, rainbow-colored umbrella-thingy on her head and she leaned over me enough to shield me from the rain.

Baby-blue eyes and a coy smile greeted me. It was actually hard not to smile in return at that point. Hard, but not impossible.

“Why are you so glum?” she asked. Her eyes shone with the same innocent curiosity that her voice conveyed.

I sighed again. I knew Pinkie. Details might change, but I knew her. She would not let me be. “I lost two friends.” And my family, as a voice in the back of my head revealed. It only made my heart ache more. It was difficult to pretend those were raindrops when Pinkie shielded me with her umbrella. “I was supposed to do something here… but I can’t… I c-can’t remember correctly what and… and I botched it and now they… I’m not… I mean…” My thoughts got scrambled. The more I tried to explain my current predicament, the less sense anything made.

She watched me for a moment. And that moment stretched. I tried to calm myself down. I even closed my eyes and took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. With mixed results. Eventually, I looked up to her again. It was easier to get lost in her eyes. It was strangely soothing.

“Life doesn’t have a recipe. And even if it would, that doesn’t help much,” she eventually replied.

I was at the height of my eloquence as I answered. “What?”

Her little smile grew just a smidge larger. “Most ponies follow recipes when they make a pie. Everything’s written down. All the ingredients and their amounts and what to do in which order. But life doesn’t have a recipe. There’s all kinds of stuff and chaos and ponies mixing in weird ways all the time. And even if you had a recipe. Have you ever tried making a pie with a recipe? They never turn out the same!”

I knew that there was an invaluable piece of wisdom to be had here. That it could change the direction my life would take. The way I looked at things and dealt with them. But at this point, I simply did not feel ready for it. I was not ready to accept it.

So I kept quiet. And after a while, I tried to escape, in a way. I tried to ask her to just go home. “Please, I… I can’t lose y—“

She would not let me, however. Pinkie giggled softly and put a muddy hoof to my muzzle. I did not mind the mud as much as I did earlier. “You’re going to catch a cold. You’re coming with me. Up!” She did not even wait for my compliance. She withdrew enough that the rain splattered my face again and while I was blinking to get the water out of my eyes, she grabbed my foreleg and simply… yanked? There was a brief jolt of pain and an equally brief wave of vertigo, but when I opened my eyes again, I stood. So did she, right next to me. Her body radiated warmth and I tried not to bask in it too much. That became significantly harder when she closed that gap even more and we slowly walked towards Ponyville with our coats constantly brushing against one another.

She was warm and plushy and she smiled. It was not the over-the-top smile I knew from my memories. It was instead something more subdued. Something more… personal.

We did not talk on our way. We were simply content to walk side by side. And I felt her watch me as I took in the scenery. I recognized trees. Bushes. Streams. The bridge. Houses. So many houses of friends I had names for and sometimes even remembered the faces and voices of.

No other ponies crossed our path with the heavy curtain of the constant rain still assaulting the land. We arrived at Sugarcube Corner. The building was very much in-your-face with its theme. I did not mind. We stopped under the little roof overhang and got rid of at least some of the mud. My legs felt frozen and stiff. My entire body was completely drained of any warmth, even though we had walked over here. My hooves were numb and I still saw myself shivering, even though I did not feel it anymore.

We entered through the door. The ground floor was empty, as far as I could tell in the dark. Tables and chairs and benches without customers, a counter with nopony selling the goods and all the lamps were off. Pinkie grabbed me by my foreleg and blindly navigated the room with me in tow. “Careful, stairs,” she whispered. We went up a floor. And then another one. There was a single door leading from the hallway to what I remembered was her room. I remembered the Cakes now. And how they were surrogate parents for Pinkie, in a way. I remembered that they had two foals, Pound and Pumpkin. But that memory was contested within my own mind. Several different versions fought for supremacy. In some, no foals existed. In others, they did. Or there was just one. Or more than two. Or they had different names. It did not exactly get any less confusing.

So I resigned to my fate and just followed Pinkie into her room. She dragged me over to her bed. The stitched quilt had a repeating motif of balloons. It looked quite cozy. But I knew better. I was dripping wet and muddy, despite my best efforts.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to mop that up later,” she let me know. Maybe she had seen me stare at my hooves with a furrowed brow.

It took a few brief moments before I was once again assaulted. By a barrage of towels, this time. She had half her body buried in a closet, her shapely rump wiggled around merrily with her tail swishing from side to side as she threw more and more towels with astonishing accuracy at me. In the end, with her closet probably empty, she turned around, looked at the towel-monster I had become and giggled. And there it was. That never-ending energy. That smile that seemed to know no bad days.

I tried to smile. For her sake. It felt stilted. But I tried anyway.

She bounced over and took one of the towels. I followed her example and started to dry myself off and once I was done, half the towels went into a laundry basket next to the door. I didn't really get a chance to say much as she grabbed my shoulders, pushed me backwards and plopped my rump down on her bed.

“You wait right there. BRB!”

I had seen Rainbow leave her namesake in the sky when she flew fast enough. But I could not remember if I had ever seen Pinkie do the same. Just leaving pink behind, instead of rainbow streaks. “Bee are bee? What does that even mean?” I wondered aloud and heard her giggle from somewhere downstairs.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled faintly sugary in here. And lived-in. Which was not a bad thing, quite the contrary. With the cold slowly receding as the room temperature was higher than my current body temperature, I came to realize that only a part of that cold was due to missing body heat. It was considerably easier not to feel as lonely when your hooves were numb and your legs did not stop shivering.

And with the warmth slowly creeping in, I was once again faced with the consequences of my disastrous failure.

I kept my lips firmly shut, pressed together into a thin line as the first sob desperately tried to escape. I tried to tell myself not to be such a wuss, but that helped unsurprisingly little. Pinkie once again returned as my savior, my knight in shining armor, just in time.

Shining Arm—

Shut up.

She offered me a cup. Steam rose from the dark, brown liquid. And a single marshmallow drowned in it.

Rari—

I said: Shut up!

“Thank y-you,” I replied and tried to keep the stutter out of my voice. But with my body finally getting some warmth back, that was easier said than done. All my muscles seem to spasm out just to generate some much-needed thermal energy.

“You’re welcome.” She sat down right next to me and cradled her own mug.

I took a sip and tried not to cough. The sugary goodness flooded my taste buds, it was chocolaty to the extreme. Or maybe my mouth was not used to chocolate yet. Either way: I had to take very, very small sips. I tried to focus on my sensory input. It was such a strange reverse to the prior situation. Think as little as possible, focus on everything else. My hooves prickled. It was right at the border of being painful. I held my cup in my levitation and wondered for the first time how I managed to do that. And just because I questioned it, I almost dropped my cup. I sighed a couple of times, quietly. And I did not realize how much I slumped against her until Pinkie giggled softly, because my mane tickled her neck.

“O-Oh… s-sorry…” I stuttered because of the cold. Surely.

I tried to straighten my posture, but she once again would not let me correct my mistakes. As soon as I tried to get away from her, she grabbed me with a hoof and pulled me back against her. “It’s fine!” she insisted. “You really are a worrywart, aren’t you?”

I gulped a little and sighed. “I guess.” According to my never-to-be-trusted memories, I had heard that title a lot. From many different ponies. So there had to be some truth to that, right?

We emptied our cups in relative silence, only broken up by occasional sighs and hums of contentment and appreciation. Our cups finally ended up on her bedside table and Pinkie smiled coyly again as she pulled the blanket back and crawled under it.

And I felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Like an intruder. I was not meant to be here. This was her room. She was tired, cold, whatever else, she wanted to sleep. I needed to get out. And I was about to get up when she spoke up in a surprisingly quiet voice. “Don’t make me drag you over.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly turned until I could look at her. She softly patted what little space was left next to her. This bed was not meant for two ponies. Sure, it could fit two. If they snuggled up close.

My gaze drifted from that space to her. She expected me to join her. Why? Why, why, why? I wanted to ask so badly. A part of me was even crazy enough to suggest that this might be some kind of trap. But what would she gain from that? And it would have been easy to get lost in all those speculations. But the important point was: I knew Pinkie. She rarely let her hair down like that. She rarely let others see her be so… vulnerable. Come to think of it: She had been like this the entire time. Soft-spoken. Walking instead of bouncing. A coy smile instead of her earth-shattering, sky-splitting beam. But her mane was fluffy and plushy. Not limp at all.

I gave myself a solid, figurative shove off the ledge and crawled under the blanket beside her. We lay almost muzzle to muzzle. Her bed smelled like all kinds of sweets. Licorice, ew. But also chocolate. Powdered sugar. Caramel. Glazed apples. Several kinds of fruits. Uh, pineapple, nice.

A minute passed. Then two. Our combined body heat made the bed even cozier than it had been already. The pillows were soft. And so was the blanket. And the sheets. And her. And my heart ached so much. “Why?” I finally dared. “Is picking up strangers — literally from the ground — a hobby of yours?”

It was a bad joke. And it did not work. But she smiled anyway, just to appreciate the effort. “I usually pluck them from the trees around town, you know? But I was in the mood for a change and Dashie keeps praising floor-fries…”

I could not help myself. It started with a very unexpected snort and the weird sound only contributed to me chuckling after that. And funnily enough, Pinkie snorted as well and chimed in with her lovely giggle. It was nonsense. Nonsensical. All of this.

And as I laid there, with her close to me, chuckling and feeling tension melt away, I did not even realize that my laughter slowly morphed back into sobbing. As soon as I noticed, I shut up. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

She scooched just a smidge closer and brought a hoof up to my cheek. And I leaned into that tender touch as much as I could. And that ached flared up tenfold. “It’s fine,” she insisted yet again. How many times had she already told me the same thing over and over again?

“Why are you so kind to me?” I asked her. You don’t even know me!

But when had that ever mattered to Pinkie Pie? A stranger was just a new friend to be had.

“I want to see you smile.” Her answer was simple. Really simple. Very in line with Pinkie, as far as I knew her. And yet despite this, I wanted to scream a little and pull at my mane. That was not an answer at all, was it? “But you can’t truly smile until you stopped crying,” she added belatedly.

Now you’re just ridiculous, Pinks! I shook my head. “But I’m not crying,” I insisted.

And she smiled that very particular smile. That one full of empathy and maybe a bit of pity, when somepony realized something a lot sooner than somepony else. I did not quite like that one. “Yes you are, silly. But you cry like Applejack.” She stabbed my chest with a hoof. “On the inside.” She sighed. “And you thrash around and howl in pain.” My eyes once again glazed over. I refused, though. I simply refused to let them spill. I bit down hard on my bottom lip to teach it a lesson about quivering without my approval, but it did little more than hurt. And quiver.

And Pinkie simply pulled me in and nuzzled me. She closed what little gap had persisted between us. And I tilted my head forward and buried my muzzle on her chest as the walls came crumbling down again. Oh how little they had helped me. With every shuddering breath, I inhaled her sweet scent. She smelled of cinnamon. I loved cinnamon. Did she know? Maybe. She was Pinkie Pie, after all.

And I could not pretend it was the rain. I could not fault the weather for that damp patch on her coat, or the sheets. I could just dig deeper. Hide myself away from all sight and all ears as I failed to keep quiet. She held me tight throughout. “Don’t worry,” she whispered into my ear, “Auntie Pinkie takes care now.” I wanted to laugh, yet I could not. It was such a ridiculous thing. But very much fitting for her.

I felt safe with her. Secure. And for whatever reason, that made it worse. It made the tremors shaking my body worse. It made the volume of my sobs worse. It made the tears spilling forth without restraint worse. It made the ache in my heart worse. Like a festering wound that had been cut open again, everything had to get a lot worse.

And to top it all off, she started to hum and a brief moment later, softly sang.

“It's true some days are dark and lonely, and maybe you feel sad, but Pinkie will be there to show you that it isn't that bad!”

I could barely think straight. I could certainly not speak an entire sentence without stuttering like an idiot. But I could not keep quiet either. And I tried to follow up. “There is o-one thing that… m-makes me h-happy and m-makes my whole life… w-worthwhile…” And we finished in an awkward duet as she chimed in again. “And that's when I t-talk to my f-friends… and get them to smile…”

I want to see you smile, her previous words echoed in my head.

Smile for me, Pinkie. And I’ll try to smile for you.

A distant part of me wondered. Maybe Pinkie just did for ponies what Fluttershy did for animals. Nursing the wounded back to health. It mattered little as her hoof stroked through my mane and time trickled by unnoticed. I ran out eventually. No more tears in store. No more sobs hidden away in my throat. No more desperation and pain and fear. Oh so much fear. One could only experience so much terror before being tired and numb.

And I reached that point where I simply fell silent. The tremors had almost stopped as well. Only occasionally did I still shiver lightly. She tipped my shoulder and I understood without a word. I rolled over and scooched backwards, until my back was against her belly. She pulled the blanket up a little further and continued to hold me. The scent of cinnamon filled my nostrils and soothed my frazzled nerves.

The emotional fatigue and plain old bodily exhaustion finally combined to drag me into sleep and I slipped in with a final thought.

I love cinna—Pinkie.

I sat up straight in bed with a gasp usually reserved for drowning. My entire coat was matted with sweat, my breathing was going a mile a second and my heart was thumping in a panic. My head snapped around as I tried to reorient myself. Where was I? Who was I? When was I?

Large bed. Closet. Table with writing supplies. Window, curtains drawn closed. I could see a new moon outside. A few twinkling stars. The walls, the floor, everything was composed of crystal. The castle then?

“Are you alright?” a voice spoke up beside me.

My head snapped around with such speed that my neck actually hurt a little. I stared at Twilight wide-eyed. She saw my face and quickly dismissed what little drowsiness remained. “Breathe. Slowly. Follow my lead.” She sat up as well and inhaled.

Follow my lead.

I trusted Twilight. Without a doubt. I can do that. Right?

I inhaled and held my breath. And exhaled when she did. We repeated the process a few times. It helped massively and I eventually let myself fall back into the sheets. My head hit the pillow and I sighed deeply. Twilight laid down as well and scooched over. She laid her head on top of my chest and looked at me. I wanted to remark that I was sweaty, but on second thought: Either she already knew and did not care, or she had not noticed yet and would potentially retreat. I certainly did not like the latter option.

“Nightmare?” she asked calmly. I nodded without hesitation, even though I immediately started to question that. Had it truly been a nightmare? The memory was fleeting. It felt like another flash. One that had the unfortunate timing of arriving in the middle of the night. When I was sleeping instead of dreamwalking no less. But I had dreamed about Pinkie. That could not be too bad, could it?

“Want to talk about it?” she offered.

I considered it for a moment. But what was there to talk about? I looked at Twilight and I felt… safe. Safe and secure. I was with her, and everything was fine. Everything would be fine. I smiled and shook my head. “No. But thank you for offering. Sorry for waking you up.” I craned my neck and kissed her nose. The only spot I could reach in that position. She wrinkled her nose in response and giggled softly before she lifted her head. We had routines. We knew each other. We had been living with each other for years. She laid down on her side and I scooched right up against her back. And I spooned my lovely little peanut.

I sighed a final time before I let sleep reclaim my consciousness. And as I inhaled deeply, I smiled. Because my nostrils were filled with her scent. With the smell of paper and books and libraries, a tiny trace of dust and the metallic scent of her ink.

And the ghostly tinge of cinnamon.