It all began with a sniffle.
"Yeah, I hear you, little buddy," Hitch sniffed to clear his own nose. "My nose doesn't like the cold weather either. Don't you worry, we'll be back home soon." He ruffled Sparky's… Well, Sparky didn't really have anything atop his head scales to ruffle, but Hitch went through the motion anyways.
Sparky gave a hooting sound, which was kind of a weird thing for a baby dragon. Maybe. Hitch was learning new things about him every day.
"Yup. Last stop today."
Sparky's eyes lit up like the small door sign at their destination: Spice's Rack. Gaily sparkling, Hitch stopped to give the familiar sign a good, long looking over. There was something about… He shrugged, distracted by memories of all the shopping trips he'd made here. Inside were all the familiar, delicious, nose-enrapturing scents of the alchemical wizard who allowed Maritime Bay's cooking scene to operate, as well as three ponies browsing wares.
"Morning, Damselfish."
The umber fishermare waved back.
From behind a row of dry tins an unfamiliar cyan pegasus stallion waved as Sparky introduced himself remotely. A quick sidestep kept the exuberant dragonling balanced atop Hitch's back.
"Ginger," he nodded to the proprietress.
The admittedly cute orange-ish mare smiled brightly. "Gingerbread time already?"
"Yup!"
They both turned, parting ways amongst the isles like a well-oiled… couple of ponies, picking this and that from the shelves. It was so satisfying to be such good friends that-
"No, Sparks. Sorry, but we don't need cumin for gingerbread. Or cayenne. Or carbuncle root." Shopping with Sparky was definitely a new tradition, and keeping the little guy away from one thing just put him in range of another. "C'mon, little guy, we don't need-" grab, "...or-" snatch, "...and definitely not-!" pull.
Which meant that Ginger beat him back to the counter, beginning to ring him up ahead of him. He hadn't even yet had time to- A quick, surreptitious glance around verified that nopony was looking at him right then. Two steps left and a quick swipe finished off his collection. Ginger cocked an eyebrow, smirking, as he laid out most everything, leaning against the counter with a forehoof curled protectively around the last item just so.
"You know you don't need to hide-"
Hitch hissed, leaning in, "Then what's the point of being the 'secret ingredient?'"
She giggled, rolling her eyes-
-right as Sparky moved. Hitch turned at the scrabbling of claws on wood just in time for the plop of dragonling hitting the counter. He should have expected the sneeze and green poof; the pot of azaleas that replaced a bag of sugar he could never have.
"Heh… Heh… I can fix that!"
Ginger's eyebrow rose again.
Sparky sniffled.
There was something strange going on. The big, wide outside was cold again, and had been forever, which meant staying inside also forever. That was just fine because the less big, closed inside was still warm. Hopefully it stayed that way. Being inside meant all the same old things - the soft climables, the hard harder-to-climbs, the high-ups, the low-ups, the swing-ways, and scootables were all the same and just the way dad liked them. All the same smaller things that could be moved, pushed, grabbed, or snootled were where dad put them or where he'd left them for dad to move back. But that's where the sameness ended.
There were new things - many, many - everywhere he could find, all moveable or takeable, scattered about the climables, high- and low-ups, and even on the smooth-ground. Dad never let movables stay on the smooth-ground, but these were strange times. Some were shiny, some sparkled, some were even both! Some tasted fun, and others definitely didn't. Some made noise and those were the best of all, because he never knew what to expect until it happened!
Toing-ng-ng-ng!
"No! Sparky!"
Toing-ng-ng-THOK! Dad's hard-stompers bonked the blocky moveable back down, obscuring the sound of amazingness.
"Hey, little guy, please be careful with that."
Dad's eyes were soft, and his expression wasn't mad. Okay, things were okay. He grabbed dad's hard-stompy and cooed to show he understood. The toingmaker couldn't toing right now. Maybe later when the toing was right.
"Here. How about you play over here for a while." He got lifted, drifted, and plonked on one of the soft-flats covering the smooth-ground. "How about, um-" dad spun, knocking a round shimmery moveable right into his claw reach, "I don't think you can hurt this. I just need some time to figure this out." Dad trotted in place, slowly turning and looking around. "I don't like this. Winter Wishday should be at grandmother Figgy's place - that's the way it's supposed to be - but she really, really wanted to see what everypony did around here. And… And now I have to figure out how all of this is supposed to work here!"
The round shimmery moveable was new. It had something inside that made its roll all wobbly. The wobbly rolling made funny sounds. But…
Dad was upset, and that was new too. He didn't want dad to be upset. He knew what to do! He made the tummy wriggle, and despite the scratchy throat - that was an unfun kind if new - he snootled the round shimmery. It promptly poofed and- Well, the flimsy-looking bird-shape of thinness and pointiness was not at all what he'd been expecting - he hadn't really been expecting anything, but that always worked out great anyways - but it was colorful, with fun patterns, and just the right amount of shiny. He held it up to cheer up dad.
Dad blinked and stared. "Of course…" Dad took it and looked it over intently. That meant it was really good! "A… swan? How do you even know about ori-? Never mind. Well, thank you, Sparky, but-" He shook his head. "Never mind. Again. Just please, play over here for a minute while I-" And dad was gone.
His throat itched. He didn't like that, but dad rushed past again. That was much more interesting than moving the same old moveables, because dad was doing something and he couldn't figure out what because it kept changing. It was like dad had finally learned how to play properly. Except dad wasn't doing it with him. That was okay, he could figure out how to play whatever dad was playing. He just needed time and vantage. Fortunately his claws were more than enough to overcome the closest hard harder-to-climb.
Looking out across the inside, the cold outside visible through a distant clear-look, dad was already playing more thoroughly than he had ever seen dad play. Dad was rolling around very un-dad-like, play-fighting with a green not-vine that bore crunchy glow-fruit blooms all along its length. The vine seemed to be winning. That meant the game was afoot, and he was in the perfect position to join the fun! He launched, and bounced, skidding into the unengaged mass of not-vine. With a battle chirp he-
The chirp hurt, itchiness spread right out to his eyes. With a heave, he snootled in pain, yellow flickers washing along the not-vine and all around both of them, every colorful, crunchy glow-fruit erupting into an equally bright flower.
"Oh, no… Sparky?"
The itchiness lessened, but didn't recede. This wasn't nice. This wasn't fun. He sniffled and that just made it worse.
"Come here little buddy. Are you… sick?"
"Come on, come on!"
The warm bundle shifted around the middle of Hitch's back as his hooves drummed the sidewalk, leading him back and forth while his eyes darted.
"Come on!"
Where was she? He needed her right now! He knocked again, a free forehoof buzzing against the doorframe of the boutique.
A white mare opened the door, blinking at him. That wasn't-
"Jeeze, what's the-? Hitch?"
"Zipp? Oh good you're here too I needed to see you anyway because I need youmfffpf!"
She didn't remove her hoof, even when Hitch leaned back a little.
"Slow down, bucko. You look wound up like my sister on shampoo shopping day, so how about you take a breath and then tell me what's going on, nice and slow."
He sucked in a breath. Then he let it out. Both through his nose. Only then did she remove her hoof from his snoot.
"Right. Sure." He fidgeted and she cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, so Maretime bay is getting ready for Winter Wishday and I'm supposed to be making sure everypony is getting the right things done-"
"Breath, Hitch."
He did.
"-on time to be ready to go. Something's come up. Can you make sure the aerial displays will be all ready to go before tomorrow? And I need Pipp to follow up with the Canterlogic Decorations Commission to make sure everything will be up and-"
"Breath." She smirked.
He did.
"-lit on time for celebrations to start so that nopony misses a thing."
"Yeah. We got you, Hitch. What even is-"
"Thanks! You two are the best!" He bolted, frenetic energy driving him on to the next emergency he needed to head off.
"Sheesh. It's too early for-" A door clicked shut somewhere behind him.
The wind against his face was brisk and chilling as his hooves ate up the cobbles, a sharp wake up call to his senses as the sky gained its first swaths of color. His breath fogged with the heat he was building, yet the bundle bouncing against the straps across his back was warmer still. He strained to move faster. This was taking too long!
And yet as the Brighthouse loomed, cheerful scintillating light gradually overcoming him, there was already a Sunny standing there, the door open just enough to admit her forequarters into the cold morning. Her mane was still tousled like it had lost another fight with her pillow, but that wasn't important.
"Good! You're already awake!"
"Well, yeah. Zipp chimed me, and it's kinda' hard to miss a pony going four gallops a minute toward your home. What's got you in such a rush, Hitch?"
"Is Izzy in?"
"She's…" Sunny's ears drooped as her head took on an awkward cant. "...recovering from an… let's call it an unfortunate over-tinselling. Heh. She-" Sunny glanced over her shoulder without letting Hitch see past the door, "-might be a while. Heh."
"O… kay…"
"Yeah."
He perked up. "Maybe you can help. I need somepony to check with the unicorns from Bridlewood and make sure they're ready with the snow. Make sure- Let's see, there are six of them, so…" He tried to do some mental math, but there seemed to be no math for what he needed so he just kind of… went with what sounded right. "No more than three frosty shivers each. We'll see what that gets us, then they can go for more if we need more. Okay?"
"Sure."
"You're sure you're sure."
"Yes, Hitch. I can handle that." She amusedly quirked her brow upward toward her bare forehead. "Alicorn, remember?"
He did now! "Yeah."
She looked at him. He looked at her. A bird chirped nearby.
"Okay thanks Sunny!" He spun and bolted again. That was everything, right? All the right ponies were filling where he couldn't. He was mostly sure of it. But what if he'd forgotten something? Were all the wreathes going to be delivered to the right homes? Was the Pastry Association going to be in the correct plaza? Was Sprout going to have the trolleys on time?! Were there enough candy canes?! Gah! It was too much! But the warm lump on his back spurred him ever onward.
Buildings flew by right until the moment he skidded to the door of a wide, brightly-lit entrance. He pushed the door, cantering across the lobby and right into the surprised face of the mare behind the reception counter.
"Sheriff?"
He twisted just so, straps unstrapping, then bucked, gently catching the now airborne bundle with the top of his head. Then ever so carefully he slipped it onto the counter. A flick at the knot on top allowed the blanket ball to bloom like a flower, revealing the blearily blinking and mildly surprised face of Sparky, who even inside his swaddling was all bundled up in full winter gear. Hitch pointed dramatically with both forehooves.
"Help! Purple!"
The receptionist blinked. "What? Your dragon? Hitch, this is a vet."
Sparky sneezed and a gout of yellow-green fire shot across the room.
"We'll do whatever we can."
Where had it all gone wrong? Somewhere along the line, the cold, big, wide outside had gotten into the less big, closed inside. It was horrible! He couldn't figure out how to fix that, even with the occasional burning heat of an involuntary snootle. Not that he wanted to- His snout kept wanted to snootle again all on its own, but the grating itch told him everything he needed to know: snootling was the last thing he wanted to do.
Dad didn't seem to know what to do either. Dad had wrapped him up in more warm softies than he'd ever seen in one place, from the small ones that fit his wiggly-grabbers and wiggly-padders, to the ones he normally wore into the big wide outside when it was cold, to a literal mountain of soft-flats that were cushier than those covering the smooth-ground. He didn't know where they'd all come from, but after he and dad had visited that other animal-smelly place right after dark-sleep, and dad had tried a freezing soft-flat to his head, dad had instead buried him in the things. Dry ones, thankfully. Some smelled like other ponies he couldn't quite remember with his head so soft and fuzzy on the inside.
Muffled opening was followed by the equally fuzzy sound of voices. One was dad's. Maybe dad had found a way to help! He wriggled his way through the soft-flats piled and squiggled up deep all around. The cold, less big, closed inside wasn't far, and soon he was blinking against the light of the revealed familiar space. His vantage from the base of a small mountain of soft-flats wasn't great, but dad was by the swing-way to the cold, big, wide outside, with energetic lavender poofy friend just outside. He liked her. She played well.
"No, Izzy, I um…" Dad kept shifting his hard-stompers. He would have tried comforting dad, but the raw cold and distressing snout itch made the gulf between them too great. "Early isn't actually helpful. I wrote the Wishday Gift Chart for a reason-" dad motioned to the wall, "-I need you to get Pipp's gift here in time for her to pick it up without you seeing your own! Please, please, please just follow the chart! You don't want to spoil your surprise, do you?"
"Hmmmmm. I dunno'..." Lavender friend considered dad intently for a long, dramatic moment. "No, I guess not. Winter Wishday wouldn't be as fun if I was the only pony unsurprised!"
"Thank you! Just be back here-"
"Wait, who is that? Did you hatch another dragon? Where do you keep finding their eggs? Wait-"
"What?"
Energetic lavender poofy friend had made it past dad. Dad jumped, stopping her by getting his hard-stompies on her poofy swishy.
"Izzy."
"What?"
"No, that's Sparky."
"He's purp-"
"Not feeling well! Turning purple must be a dragon thing, but I can't find anything on them and the vet doesn't know-"
He waved at lavendee friend, moaning a desultory greeting and apology for not glomping her.
"-either so right now I'm just trying to keep him comfortable and hope and Izzy!"
His friend waved back, suddenly obviously concerned. Could she help?
"Izzy! The surprise! You can see him later!"
"Oh. Right. Oopsie." Energetic lavender poofy friend escaped into the cold, big, wide outside. Why would she do that? It was bad out there. "Be back later!"
"Two! Remember the schedule!" Dad stayed there for a moment before closing the swing-way, shaking his head. Dad's eyes sought him under all the soft-flats, brightening then dimming. He held out his wiggly-grabbers to bring dad closer. Help? "You doing alright there-?"
The swing-way rattled again.
"Ugh! Not again!"
Exactly! Dad needed to stop being distracted so he could do something.
But no, dad opened the swing-way again, but only a little. A different, familiarly confident voice coming through. "Did I hear Izzy say something about 'early'?"
Dad bowed his head and applied a hard-stomper to it. Apparently there would be no help for poor, cold him.
"No, Zipp. She wasn't following the schedule. Neither are you!"
"Alright, alright! No need to-"
The red crawly that followed dad around and definitely couldn't be eaten slowly trundled into view from the side, carrying a round hard moveable that made faintly liquid sounds every time red crawly moved a pointy-padder. He really needed a better description for them, but that was a work in progress. Red crawly inched closer and closer, the whisps rising from the carried moveable drawing his eyes and enticing his senses. Though his snout itched and ached, the smell got through anyway, revealing the presence of prepared deliciousables. But those whisps. They called to him. He couldn't place the why, but he knew they were undeniably good, and he wanted them now. Stretching out into the cold only sparked discomfort, so he was forced to wait as red crawly moved slowly - so slowly - unbidden whimpers urging the critter to just hurry up and get there so he could… He didn't know, but he needed to find out!
He snatched the hard moveable as soon as his wiggly-grabbers could reach. There was liquid within, and as it splashed - just a little - it revealed its luke-warmness. No… The wisps, they had disappointed him! He needed something else. Something more!
Red crawly held up a small, thin, shiny moveable of a kind dad used with his food, pulled from… somewhere.
That's not what he needed!
"Ah, thanks McSnipps Alot." Dad plopped down right against all the soft-flats. Red crawly clacked. "Hey, buddy, let's try some turnip noodle soup. Grandmother Figgy always made it when I wasn't feeling well, and it helped, so… maybe?" He looked hopeful.
Well… It did smell nice. And it wasn't so cold.
Hitch was a flop. The day was over, simple veggie sauté was, well… it was simmering because he no longer had the energy to sauté properly, and everything was as thinged as much as he could manage. Winter Wishday was soon upon them all, and there was no longer anything he could do to change that; he'd done it all, or his delegation skill had. Or it hadn't. He was too tired to worry anymore about which it was.
No, he was now a flop. The rug was expansive and soft enough, so he was belly down beside the pile of blankets that housed poor Sparky, his legs sprawled every which way, chin on the floor and just enjoying the peace and ease that came from abdicating any further responsibility. The tree was up, gingerbread makings were arranged, cocoa fixings stashed at the ready, decorations, games, presents… Grandmother Figgy would visit and she would have the same Winter Wishday here that she loved so much at her place. He, Hitch, had managed it, and tomorrow would be perfect.
He squashed the alluring call of uncertainty.
The blanket mound rustled. "You okay in there, buddy?"
There was a muffled murp.
"Want me to get more soup?"
Nothing.
"How about a lozenge?" Would they even work on a dragonling?
A reddish plaid blanket shifted, and a distressingly purple Sparky blinked out at him. One small hand reached forth, so he put a hoof against it in a show of camaraderie. Sparky was warm, almost uncomfortably so - which was not at all right - just like he'd been hours ago. The blanket mound had turned into an amazing little heat source for the room, and Hitch could see himself being thankful for the little guy had he been less worried over what Sparky was having to endure. Which pointed out to him that the room was getting cooler. With sundown so soon, and - he checked the windows, which showed some very on-time light snowfall - appropriate Wishday weather, it made sense.
"I should have gotten a fire going hours ago, huh, little guy?"
Sparky gave a plaintive mraw.
"Yeah. I should have. And hey, once this is ready to go, we can make roasted crestnuts. Always did love a good crestnut."
His legs creaked as he managed to extricate himself from the soft, comforting floor, and it took some shaking out to get full feeling back. There was ample firewood - his planning had been satisfyingly thorough - and starter materials easily at hoof, so a small pile of logs and kindling were soon glowing merrily and smoking suitably. As the first licks of flame found their hold he leaned back, tail curling.
"There we go. What do you think?"
Firelight glistened in the curious eyes just visible from deep within the blanket pile. A chuff and a whisp of more greenish fire spat forth. Fortunately nothing else poofed, which had been Hitch's primary worry for the blankets bravely holding the line between sick dragonling and the outside world.
"Just relax, buddy. This'll keep us nice and warm." He paused, considering their broader arrangement; he could just drag his mattress and bed dressings in here to camp out. It seemed very appropriate given what eve it was.
He slid the fireplace screen into place, rising after. "Now there's a plan."
Another questioning murp emerged from the blankets.
"We'll camp out, Sparky. It'll be fun!"
Veggies got tended, soup was put back on, toast went about toasting, and just when he was pondering the logistics of mattress moving, knocking occured from the door. Hitch couldn't think of any reason for it, since after some initial exuberance, the day's plan had ended up being followed. And from what Sunny had said when retrieving her freshly-wrapped gift from him, her deputization to help with town organization had allowed everything to go smoothly. Mostly. There was apparently a little argument between the bakers and confectioners, but Sunny had promised the Pipp had it handled. So, who could be calling on him at this hour? He had a sick dragonling who needed uninterrupted tending!
"Hey, Hitch," chimed Sunny when he cracked the door.
He wilted. "I knew it! There had to be another emergency! I said to myself, 'I know you think the girls can handle-"
"What?" Her ears folded for just a moment. "No! No emergency. Well, unless you count a sick Sparky." He kind of did. "Nope, I'm here because I know that with him being sick you've been under a lot of stress. I thought you should have a friend here because that's what Wishday is all about: spending time with the ones you-"
There was a scraping sound, like lightweight metal on a hard surface. Hitch had heard that sound before… Recently! Energy flashed back into his bones as he cantered backward to get his eyes on Sparky's blanket fort.
Sparky was out!
He was in front of the fireplace!
"Sparky?"
The screen was pushed to the side!
"SPARKY!"
Hitch dove liked he'd never dived before, clearing almost the entire room in one sprawling leap, but he was too late! Sparky was in the fire! Sparky was on fire!
"OH, MY GOSH!" Sunny's outcry echoed Hitch's own raw terror.
SPARKY WAS… padding in a circle, bodily pushing logs and coals into small ring around him, completely unconcerned that blazing hot flickers of angry orange and yellow wreathed his entire body? Hitch didn't dare breathe, and a quick pleading glance up at Sunny showed she was in a state of similar breathlessness.
"What do we do?!"
"I don't know!"
Sparky finished his looping only to plop down right in the middle of his new nest of very deadly burning wood. Contrary to his circumstance, when his eyes met Hitch's, he let out a much too cheerful mrawp!
"Should we even do anything?"
Hitch had no answer.
"He looks… surprisingly comfortable in there."
"A-bwuhhhh?" was all Hitch could manage.
Sparky's eloquent rebuttal was roll onto his side, absolutely coating himself in searing coals, and then sigh. He did look amazingly relaxed now. And when he invariably sneezed at all the cinder dust kicked up by his actions, the burst of fire merely merged with its wood-born siblings, disappearing into the same ether with them. He did appear to be enjoying himself for the first time that day, which was a salve to Hitch's frayed emotions in a weird way. If Sparky was… good - in the fire - then Hitch was… He decided he'd get back to himself after he'd had more time to process.
"Maybe this is exactly what he needed," Hitch offered from his place still on the floor.
"Maybe. Ooo, are those crestnuts?"
"Uh-huh. Salted and honied just like Grandma Figgy makes them."
"Do… you think Sparky'll mind?"
"Over an open, burning dragon?" He checked. Sparky appeared to already be snoozing, the poor little sick guy.
Sunny snickered.
Hitch was just too exhausted to argue with the hoof that life had dealt him. "Ehhhh… What's the worst that could happen?"
Author's Note
And nothing else actually went wrong. Sunny and Hitch spent a quality Winter Wishday eve bonding. Sparky enjoyed being nice and warm (and felt much better for it). The crestnuts were tasty.
..and Grandmother Figgy loved it.
