A Little Touch of Sunshine

by Sorren

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Derpy Hooves, Slice of Life
Length: 1459

Sometimes, everything has its own place.

Sometimes, everything has its own place.

Published 2012-10-09 06:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-09 06:10:01 UTC

A Little Touch of Sunshine

The night was of dead silence. A thin layer of clouds covered the sky, the only exception being a thin break which allowed the tiniest sliver of the moon to shine down upon the thatched roofs of ponyville. The night was late, and everypony had since retired to their beds, all except a young, amber filly, looking up at the moon from the window of her room in a sort of silent wonder. There was a flash of gray coat in the moonlight and the amber filly jumped with excitement. Had she seen it? Had it really been?

“Mom!” she cried. “Mommy! I saw her!”

From the room adjacent to the filly, a light flicked on and a very tired, creme-colored mare rolled out of bed, her pink mane frizzled and unkempt from sleep. “What is it?” she asked, not yet fully awake.

The filly stared out the window, glancing expectantly up at the sky. “I saw her, Mommy!”

The mare half-staggered into the room to stand beside her daughter. “Saw what honey?” she stifled a yawn and peered out the window beside the filly. “What are you looking at?”

The filly looked at her mother, a twinkle in her eye. “I saw her. I saw the pegasus that makes the little fillies and colts come.”

Mom squinted her daughter a smile. “What are you talking about, silly?”

“She makes the foals come,” whispered the filly in awe.

“Who taught you this?” asked Mom, a little curious.

“Daddy.”

A light frown. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, I asked him where little fillies and colts come from and he told me that a pegasus pony brings little brothers and sisters at night, and flies down from the sky to leave them on the doorstep.”

The mare raised an eyebrow and half-chortled. “Really?”

The filly bobbed her head frantically. “Yeah! I asked him if I could have a little sister.”

“And what did he say?”

“He smiled, and then he said to ask you.”

The mare made a disappointed noise. “I’ll have to have a talk with him.”

The filly looked as if she had said something wrong. “Why’s that?”

The mare forced a laugh and tickled her daughter’s sides. “Because he wasn’t supposed to tell you till’ you were older.”

The filly sighed and looked down at the elaborate flower bed her mother kept, then to the cobbled stone walk and welcoming mat, which said in big loopy letters, wipe your hooves. “Do you think I’ll ever have a little sister?”

The mare smiled, eyes twinkling. “I can’t say... Maybe.” She cast a look up at the sky, then to the sliver of moon. “But it’s the middle of the night. It’s time for a little filly I know to go to bed.”

“But—”

She placed her hoof gently over the filly’s mouth, silencing her. “She doesn’t come if anypony is awake,” she whispered. “Now get back to sleep.” She wrapped the filly in a hug. “Okay?”

The little pony laughed. “Okay, Mommy.”

The creme-colored mare led her foal back to the bed. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

The filly nuzzled into the covers as her mother tucked them in around her. “Okay. Goodnight,” she said with a little sulk.

“Now, you sleep well tonight, and maybe, just maybe, there might be a surprise for you in the morning.” She backed slowly out of the room, smiling. “Goodnight.” The door closed with a soft click and all was quiet once more.

The filly stared at the ceiling, her eyes feeling droopy. No matter her suspense, she couldn't bring herself to stay awake. Had she known that just a quarter mile to the west, and seven-hundred feet above, a gray pegasus pony flew with uncertainty, she may have been able to keep her eyes open just a bit longer. But soon, her eyes drifted closed, and she was overcome by dreams of flying mares and little sisters.

Far away, a gray pegasus bought herself down on a small cloud and unfolded a map for the tenth time. “It has to be somewhere around here,” she mused to herself, brushing a lock of her blonde mane away from her eyes. She kept one wing over the tied, canvas sack beside her, sure to keep it in her mind at all times. She could feel the warmth from within, which was not quite as strong as it had first been. She should have been done with this delivery hours ago.

“I don’t see what’s wrong,” she said, scolding herself. “You’ve been going the right way all this time.” She frowned, then turned the map over. “Oh, nevermind. I passed it.” She folded away the map and picked up the canvas bag, once again taking to the skies, this time in the opposite direction.

It almost didn’t seem fair that her very first delivery had to be this hard. This was supposed to be a piece of cake. Instead, she had been at it for hours.

It didn’t matter now. A few more minutes and it would all be over and everypony would be happy.

She flew low over the clouds, allowing her hooves to skim over the tops and collect moisture. The warmth within the bag hanging from her mouth bumped lightly against her front, filling her with a tingly feeling at her first delivery. The moon shone lightly from ahead and she had to focus really hard to bring her eyes together well enough to see it in contrast.

She looked back at her cutie mark and smiled, loving the way they moonlight shone off the bubbles on her flank. They really were pretty in the moonlight. The precious package swayed a little precariously and she hurriedly, but carefully returned to looking forwards.

Feeling as light as a feather, she glided over a break in the clouds, catching a glimpse of several thatched rooftops. She flew on a little further, then brought herself to a quick stop. Had that been the street?

The gray mare brought herself back and peered down through the break in the clouds cautiously. The number one rule—she had been told—was to never, ever be seen. She had to close one eye to read the street sign from this distance, but she would have cheered were she not supporting the delivery. She had found the right street, which meant the right house was just below. It was of sheer luck that she hadn’t flown by it a second time.

The mare dropped, making her descent quick but smooth. If she were seen, the whole delivery would be ruined and she would have to try again another night. Luckily, she wasn’t spotted in her descent and she was able to land safely on a cobblestone walk, near an elaborate bed of flowers. She paused again to listen for movement, then started up the walk, painfully conscious of the clopping of her hooves. The thing in the package stirred and she forced back a little smile.

With as much care as possible from a single pony, she laid the bundle down upon a welcoming mat with two hooves stitched into it with a cheery message. Wipe your hooves. She undid the tie at the top, letting the white folds fall away. A tiny, orange, pegasus filly lay inside, her purple mane and tail disheveled and poofy from sleep and static. “You behave,” she said in a playful whisper, giving the sleeping foal a friendly nuzzle. “You gave me a lot of trouble, but I did it. I got you here.”

The foal made a little noise, then curled into a ball to shelter from the cool night air. Ditzy smiled. “But I have a feeling you’re going to grow up to be something very special.”

Ditzy Doo crept forward and knocked on the door three times, the sound shattering the still night air. “Goodbye,” she whispered, setting down a small paper in front of the door before slipping off into the night.

It was a moment before the door creaked open, slowly at first, then more quickly. The creme colored mare’s eyes widened at the sight of the little pony, then softened with compassion. “Hey,” she said, a little shocked at first sight. “What’s your name?”

The tiny pony yawned and looked up at the mare, sleepy eyes alight and full of wonder.

She noticed a small slip of paper resting near the doorstep, and picked up curiously, frowning at the sloppy scrawl. “Scootaloo?” she read off the paper. The foal at her hooves bounced and smiled up at her, like somehow, she knew.

The mare smiled and took up the little pony in a forehoof, holding her close. “Wait till’ your sister sees you.”