Author's Note

Merry Heart's Warming Day and Happy New Year, everypony 🌲🍾🥂🍰🎉🎊🎁🎇🎆

P.S. There is clop scene bottomly 👦🌃🗽🌲🎁📻🥂💕✨🔞

Heart's Warming Day

Bronze closed the ledger with a rustle of pages.

"Well, friends," he said. "For a month of work our profit is four thousand one hundred eighty bits. In this number I included the earnings of all of us, except Steel. As you can easily calculate, this is less than half of what we expected.

Remy sighed. She looked thoughtfully at the scratch on the workbench she was sitting at.

We settled down in the same Bronze workshop where we tested refills and mixed inks. In the dim light of the fireflies, the switched-off machines looked like some ancient dinosaurs sleeping along the walls. The parts laid out on the tables gleamed dimly, and the rags hanging from the cupboard trembled in the draft.

I tapped my fingernail on the table.

“Bronze, is this taking into account the sales of paintings or not?”

“Of course not,” the pony responded. “This is Alyatara's earnings, I think it belongs to her. Or do you disagree?”

“She doesn’t agree and demands that the proceeds from the paintings be counted as part of the general income,” I chuckled. “But I think you’re right. It’s more honest.”

The pony left to meet her parents two hours ago. On a train, at the sight of which my masculinity whined and tucked its tail. At the sight of this bright pink (!) train with heart-shaped windows (!), from the purple, yellow, pink, green roofs of the carriages (!) decorated like cream cakes (!) I physically felt my blood sugar rise. Holding back my horror, I hugged the unicorn goodbye and, as soon as the train started moving, I hurried out onto the city streets. Moderately noisy, moderately dirty and moderately gray.

Just the thing to balance out this steam-belching gingerbread-candy glamour monster.

“Then we’ll put the question off until she returns,” Bronze bowed his head. “Well, let’s get back to the bits.”

I paused, calculating in my mind.

“At least we're not in the black. The loan payment and rent have paid off, we've even come out a little bit ahead.”

“That’s true,” agreed Bronze. “But there’s no point in even thinking about expanding the business under these circumstances.”

Remy's head snapped up.

“We've only just started working! It's too early to talk about expansion, don't you think?”

“I'm just stating a fact for now. We've earned something, but from the point of view of the business owners, not its workers, it's unprofitable.”

“I agree with Remy here,” I intervened. “While the distribution channels are being established, while they haven't found out about us... Let's wait at least three months before drawing conclusions. Although, if you want your share in full, Alyatara and I won't object. You're an investor, you're investing in equipment and spare parts.”

Bronze turned his head and looked at himself.

“Does it look like I've grown a beak, feathers and a tail with a tassel? Let's divide it fairly, between four and equally.”

"Speaking of distribution channels," Remi interjected before I could clarify the point of the joke. "Maybe we should look for other options? Besides an ad in the newspaper and handing out business cards?"

I shrugged.

“Everything else is an expensive pleasure. Next month we will try to run through other editorial offices, offer stylomechs with their symbols in exchange for a discount on advertising. Although we need to be careful here. As I understand Alyatara, their competition is tough, if they find out in the "Manehattan World" that we cooperate with some "Manehattan News", we will instantly lose our supplies and discount.”

Bronze snorted skeptically.

“Any other ideas?”

I could only throw up my hands.

“We were trying to know the price for radio advertising. It's definitely out of our budget for now. One monthly commercial would eat up all the profit, even if we take pictures. Maybe later...”

“But your idea with the Hearth Day symbolism worked well, by the way, it’s a pity we thought of it too late,” Remy noted. “Maybe we’ll try it for Hearts and Hooves Day?”

• Hearts and Hooves Day?

“It’s lover’s holiday,” Bronze enlightened me.

Oh, of course. Another mysterious similarity between worlds. I wonder what they think in Committee about this?

It's not that I was eager to find out from them.

“We still need to work till it,” I shrugged. “But we’ll certainly try.”

"Speaking of distribution channels," Bronze remarked, "what were you saying about the weather team contract?"

I chuckled.

“So far they've ordered two dozen, to try. But Mike asked me to tell you that his bosses like the idea of frost- and water-resistant stylomechs. Remy, what do you think?”

The blue earth pony ruffled her bangs.

“I can increase the proportion of crystal violet in the pigment,” she said. “The color will change slightly, but the ink will hold up better. At least the lines won’t run if they get wet. But as for frost resistance…”

She pulled out her notebook and rustled the pages.

"I was thinking about going back to glycerin," she said. "But it's possible that we'll have to repeat the whole testing cycle all over again. I'm not sure that the new ink will work with the old refills, so we'll have to re-select the channel widths."

Bronze and I shook our heads at the same time.

“For a constant supply, it would make sense,” the earth pony said. “But for a few dozen… I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Remy turned the page.

“I have another idea. About five or ten years ago, the Canterlot shipyards were working on a high-altitude airship project. They were planning to use glycol additives to prevent the coolant in the tubes from freezing. But they didn't succeed.”

“Glycols?” Bronze asked. “But…”

“Yes,” Remy picked up. “The mixture turned out to be too toxic and corrosive. But we are not going to fill the refills with it in its pure form. A small addition of glycol to the solvent is enough to lower the freezing temperature by a good ten degrees, without significantly changing the properties of the solution. At the same time, its amount in one refill is fifty times less than the dangerous dose.

“I see one nuance in this, even two,” Bronze said gloomily.

“Which ones?” I asked.

The earth pony lightly tapped the table.

“Corrosivity, that's one. How long will the tip last with such an additive?”

Remy flicked her tail.

“Longer than the ink runs out. Even with reloads, I suppose.”

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes again.

“Well, I wouldn't advise heating the rod. It can esterify the lubricant and ruin the ink.”

Bronze stopped her with a gesture.

“I don't understand this anymore, my point is mechanics. If you say it should work, then let's try and check. But there is one more minus.”

"I see it too," the earth pony nodded. "No one will let us work with it in the living area. Only a separate building, with an exhaust hood, a runoff, and special clothing."

I sighed.

“Then that's not an option either. The expenses...”

Bronze raised his hoof, stopping me.

"What if we contact Torsion?" he said thoughtfully. "She has a laboratory for working with mercury. And if I promise her a discount on the next order, she'll let us use it for a couple of evenings even without paying. And the refills themselves can be recharged in our workshop, it's not a concentrated substance.”

I picked up a pencil, ready to do some calculations.

“How much will this affect the price of reagents?”

“The bit somewhere,” Remy wrinkled her forehead.

The red earth pony thought.

“Let me chat with Torsion first, then I’ll tell you for sure,” he finally said.

I nodded.

“Okay, then we'll wait for an estimate on the money. Remy, then, once the issue with the lab is resolved, will you do the experiments? Once we understand that the samples work, we'll contact the weatherpony and announce the price. In the meantime, I'll tell Mike that we're ready to cooperate, but some preparatory work is needed.”

Both my companions nodded.

I frowned, wondering if I had missed anything. Some thought was crossed my mind and wouldn’t go away. Something related to recent events… Something related to Alyatara…

Coffee.

Thermos.

Or rather, a flask enchanted to keep the coffee hot.

“Bronze! What about these magic mugs with refrigerators? Can this magic be cast on the refill?”

The earth pony sighed.

“Unlikely. The object is too small to apply runes to. Even if there was a unicorn with a magnifying glass and the necessary skill of micro-embossing on crystals, the spells would start to overlap and interfere. You wouldn't want the ink to boil and freeze all at once, would you?”

“I see you understand this as well as a unicorn,” Remy noted.

Bronze snorted:

“Do you think any of them ever thought of making a watch that used magic instead of mechanics? It worked out in all sorts of ways, of course. But unless you're a genius like the princess or Starswirl, mechanics are much more reliable. Springs and gears spin the way you made them, if you made them right. And spells work the way they want themselves, especially if you need them to work without the supervision of the unicorn who cast them.”

He pulled out the partnership's checkbook.

“Okay. Let's get to the good part.”

Filled out and tore out several bills.

“Here you go,” he said, handing us the receipts. “Eugeniy, will you give it to Alyatara yourself or shall we wait until she returns?”

“What's the difference?” I shrugged. Carefully put both bills, mine and the unicorn's, into my wallet pocket.

Bronze smiled.

“Well then. Since we're done with the calculations and plans... Merry Hearth's Warming Day, friends!”

He pulled three pairs of watches from his pocket, each on a thin gold chain. Not wristwatches, but rather round metal cases – I had only seen them on the Internet. Each case cover had a carved monogram. My copy had two crossed stylized ballpens, and the other one Bronze gave me had Alyatara’s cutie mark.

I burst out laughing.

Bronze turned his ears towards me questioningly.

“You read my mind!” I finally explained to him. “Alyatara didn't have time to finish before today, so she asked me to give you gifts. And as for me...” without finishing the sentence, I stood up and took a small canvas bag from the hanger.

“Happy holiday to both of you, from me and her!”

The bag contained two miniature portraits in carved lacquered frames. Alyatara had painted them with quick strokes of stylomech, but the portrait resemblance to Bronze and Remy was unmistakable.

Then two stylomechs appeared, just like the ones we painted every day in the workshop. One was light red with a tiny clock, the other was blue with a drop of ink.

Remy blushed so much that her face itself turned purple.

“Oh, colts, forgive me, for the Sisters' sake!” she exclaimed. “I also prepared something for you, but I completely forgot that you and I are unlikely to see each other tomorrow, Bronze...”

The earth pony smiled.

“What difference? You can give it back after the holidays, or whatever you prefer. In the meantime... How would you like to celebrate Hearth's Day at Lemon Cake's? They don't close for another hour.”

“I don’t mind,” Remy responded.

“Me too,” I joined in.

“Well then, let's go!” We all rose from our seats. The front door creaked, revealing the lights of evening Manehattan to our eyes. Bronze paused at the entrance, fiddling with the lock.

I threw back the latch. I grabbed the window sashes and pulled them towards me.

With a creak they parted to the sides, and fresh winter air rushed into the apartment.

I leaned against the windowsill.

A beautiful sight.

The whole city is sparkling with lights. New Year's (or should I say "Hearth’s"?) garlands are twinkling in the windows, shimmering with multi-colored magical light. Some houses are already completely hidden in clouds of magical glow. Someone in the neighboring block is already launching fireworks. If you bend over and stretch your neck, you can see the top of a fir tree, decorated in the neighboring square.

And a crowd of ponies under the windows.

I closed the window and carefully brushed away the few snowflakes that had managed to settle on the dry windowsill. I poured myself a cup of tea and sank into the armchair.

How nice it is to finally stretch out my legs and relax.

The holiday turned out to be a difficult day.

The ponies were running around the shops trying to buy forgotten gifts at the last minute. The batch of two hundred stylomechs, painted with snowflakes and fir trees, was gone in an instant, as were the landscapes of Alyatara. It took me all of last night to paint the personal orders, despite the selfless help of Steel Gear and Remy - by the way, I need to tell Bronze to give the guy a bonus. I was actually planning to close the shop at half past seven for the holiday...

Yeah, right. I left my workplace at ten o'clock in the evening.

It was also possible to jump up and show up at Phil's party - he invited me "to come in if you change your mind." And celebrate the holiday among your own biological species. But...

There was no desire.

I'm too tired to have fun.

And tomorrow I had a small quest ahead of me – to find cooked sausage in a city inhabited by herbivorous creatures. To demonstrate to Alyatara what our traditional Olivier salad is.

Not the real - the one with capers, ham and show-off. Namely, the traditional one.

And other holiday attributes in the form of tangerines and fir branches. Fortunately, this was easier in Manehattan.

But I had no desire to do this with a hangover.

Just like meeting Alyatara at the station with bags under his eyes and a hangover.

I caught myself involuntarily smiling.

Damn... or what a hay, as they say in Equestria. I really miss her company. Her cheerful, ringing voice, the light push of her shoulder into my thigh, the clatter of her hooves on the floor...

Damn, Zhenyok. What's wrong with you?

I went to the window again and pressed my forehead against the glass.

Actually, there is a very clear name for your condition...

Stop. Abandon. Terminate. Reset. Abort the function.

Don't be silly, Zhenya.

It's just... just the body's reaction. Shock, fear, stress, tension. Participation, help, empathy, gratitude. Ancient psychological mechanisms that have given out, as they say, a recognition failure...

And these mechanisms have a well-known name, right?

“Stop-stop-stop,” I said to my reflection in the glass. “Stop-stop-stop.”

You just have to ignore it. Let the wave of hormones subside. After all, I'm long past the transitional age when you feel like doing crazy things because you're not getting laid.

Tomorrow I will meet the unicorn from the train, we will walk home together, then the next day we will go to work. The emotions will subside, and we will remain just good friends, without any unnatural ulterior motives. The main thing is not to do anything stupid, not to blurt out something stupid like Phil, which could offend Alyatara... Not to blurt out or do... Not even think about leaning towards her lips when she raises her head with a smile to look at my face...

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. And I pinched my arm hard, until it hurt.

It seems to have helped – I began to notice the world around me.

The clatter of thousands of hooves on the cobblestones, music and singing, the hubbub of voices...

And the booming, resonant ringing of bells, spreading over the city.

Where did bells come from, I wondered at one point. I immediately remembered the tall bell tower at the old fire station a mile away, the bell towers above the city hall… And who knows where! There must have been a loudspeaker in the square, connected to a radio, judging by the tinny notes in the ringing.

The fireworks were already flying up in a stream. Sparkling fountains of Roman candles, pops of firecrackers, fiery streaks of rockets... Just like at home.

And then – at some point the city noise seemed to quiet down. Even the fireworks began to fly less frequently. As if Manehattan was frozen in anticipation…

And the bright points of stars in the night sky moved from their place.

They slid towards each other, forming the ligature of Equestrian writing.

"MERRY HEARTH'S WARMING DAY, MY LITTLE PONY!"

The star inscription blurred. It came together again, this time in the silhouette of a New Year tree. With stars instead of balls and nebulae instead of garlands.

It exploded into sparks again and formed into huge starry snowflakes floating over the sparkling city.

I realized that I forgot to breathe. From delight.

No.

Not at all like home.

I looked skeptically at the old brick walls, darkened by soot. Now, however, the soot was barely visible under a thick layer of fir branches, mistletoe, garlands and all that other stuff.

Come on, Zhenyok. Gather all your fragile masculinity and meet the trial face to face.

The station bell rang, followed by the locomotive whistle. The unnatural, mind-boggling, blasphemous hybrid of steampunk and confectionery was approaching. The wheels began to rattle on the rails.

And the chain of giant self-propelled cakes stopped at the platform.

A stream of ponies poured out of the carriages. In an instant, a small multi-colored crowd with elements of murmuration formed. I didn't know the carriage number, so I stood with my hands behind my back at the very beginning of the platform and watched the ponies. Trying not to attract unnecessary attention to myself (not that I was able to do it).

“Evgeniy!”

And the next second I didn't care about the ponies looking at me sideways.

Because she were hanging on my neck.

Alas, I didn't manage to catch the unicorn in a dramatic manner - I staggered shamefully and almost fell off my feet. Mainly because, in addition to the light Alyatara, two more saddlebags almost as heavy as her crashed into me.

“Oh.”

“Hello. Oh.”

“Did I hurt you?”

I laughed.

“Give it here.”

“Leave me one!”

“So that we both get twisted?”

“Hm. That makes sense,” Alyatara glanced critically at her luggage. “Okay, but I'm carrying half the way!”

After another check with the application of magic ointment to our hands (feet), we went out to the passage between the train station and the metro station, rode a couple of stops and got out on the escalator. The frost was noticeable - well, at least by Equestrian standards, and Alyatara wrapped herself in a warm red-green scarf. Although in fact, it was probably two or three degrees, but in the humid sea climate they felt like all ten.

Flags with outspread purple alicorn fluttered over rooftops and porches. Ice alicorns and simple ponies seemed to decorate every crossroad. Flags and garlands stretched from house to house, rising above passing carriages.

“What do you have there?” I asked the unicorn, glancing at the bags.

“It’s a secret,” she laughed loudly.

“Ah, I see. By the way, I gave Bronze and Remy your portraits, and they sent a big thank you. And here, take this,” I fished my wallet out of my pocket (with some difficulty - the bags hanging on my shoulders were in the way) and gave Alyatara the bill.

She ran her gaze over the lines.

“Hmm... I knew that sales would increase on the eve of the holiday, but not that much... Or... Evgeniy!” the unicorn stopped and measured me with her gaze.

I smiled guiltily.

“What did I say about profits from paintings?”

“So, listen! What has that got to do with us? It was you who had to be given coffee to drink!”

“I sell them in a shop that is equipped by common efforts! Where ponies come because we paid for the ads from common money!”

“In the newspaper you negotiated with, under the sign you drew?”

“Evgeniy! This is not fair!”

I just threw up my hands. We continued walking in silence while Alyatara sulked.

It lasted for about fifty meters.

“Evgeniy.”

“Ouch?”

“I'll take half, the other half goes to the general account.”

“Technically speaking, they're already in the general account. You can just not to cash them out if you don't want.”

The unicorn snorted and nudged me lightly in the thigh. I wanted to pat her on the withers, but I didn't dare do it in public.

Getting hold of cooked sausage was actually not that difficult. There were plenty of griffins and other predatory sentient beings in the port area of Manehattan, and there were a couple of stalls specializing in meat products. I did not find out how they got the goods, it was unlikely that they kept pigs for slaughter somewhere near the city, more likely they brought in carcasses in closed barrels under spells so as not to shock the ponies. One way or another, they found a stick of sausage.

Not particularly similar to what I'm used to, though - more fibrous, with meaty veins, a subtle lemon-honey flavor. But I decided that the salad wouldn't get much worse from that.

As for eggs, vegetables and mayonnaise, they were not at all difficult to obtain at the city market.

The knife clattered on the board. Alyatara, who was mixing pancake batter, poked her curious face over my shoulder.

“Listen,” I asked her. “Can you have that much meat?” – nodding at the pile of sausage in the bowl.

The pony chuckled.

“It's all right. We digest meat easily, if in small quantities. Especially pegasi, but such a portion won't threat to me, especially just once. You better watch your diet yourself!”

I nodded. Alyatara's advice was sound.

I once inadvertently tried a salad with one of the pony's herbal dressings - either timothy or alfalfa. The effect was... let's say, shitty in every sense, in general, I didn't want to repeat it, especially - to remember it before a gala dinner. But since then I have reread the Committee brochure given to me at registration much more carefully, especially the section "Food compatibility".

The dough sizzled on the hot frying pan. I couldn't help but admire Alyatara's smooth movements - wait a second, a flash of telekinesis - and the pancake flies up into the air, flips over and plops down on the other side. Yes, it must be convenient to flip pancakes without touching them.

It was getting dark outside. We all sneaked out of work early today, asking Steele and Remy to take our place. It didn't do much harm to trade - it was a post-holiday lull, and ponies showed up at the shop once or twice a day.

A stack of pancakes was growing on the plate, I finished the salad and put the bowl in the fridge, to go with the cake and herring. Sparkling wine, of the same origin as the sausage, was cooling there too.

“I think that's all?” the unicorn covered the dish with magic, looked at it critically and, sighing, grabbed it with her hoof. I strained myself, dragged the table into the room and covered it with a tablecloth.

Soon the salads and pancakes, along with the plates and spoons, migrated to the table. We placed on the book table a rather unfestive jar with fir branches placed in it, which we jointly decorated with five balls, a glowing multi-colored crystal, and a figurine of the Princess of Friendship. And plopped down on the sofa.

“Well?” the unicorn reached for the bag that she had put away in the corner a couple of days ago, strictly forbidding me to look inside. “Shall we open gifts?”

"Okay, wait," I knelt down, pulling my package out from under the couch. I unwrapped the layer of wrapping paper over the gift box.

The pony smiled and held out the gift.

“Happy New Year.”

The unicorn tore the packaging with her teeth.

“You are wonderful!”

She yanked the lid open and stared at the rows of glass jars. She grabbed one with telekinesis.

“This is... A real Komon wolfenscoite! And Mistmane dragonblood! Evgeniy, where did you get them?!”

I grinned smugly.

“Know where you go,” in fact, I looked behind the scenes to the troupe of Agathe for old times' sake, and chatted for about ten minutes with the decorator. And received the address of the shop for artists, where she was shopping. From which I was sent to the next one, where they helped me decide on a gift.

“Well,” the pony put the paints on the table and picked up her bag. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Day!”

I rustled the paper. It seemed that there was something big inside, but light, oblong…

“Wow,” I stared at the insulated tarpaulin boots, exactly my size. Decorated with metal heels, straps and spurs, like a Marlboro cowboy.

“How do you like it?”

“Super!” I pulled one boot on my foot and made sure it fit like a glove. “How do you know my size?”

“Trade secret!”

I looked at the spurs again... Man, I bet they weren't made by a pony!

“Where did you get them anyway?”

Alyatara looked down charmingly.

“Well... I spent a day going to Canterlot. There's a small shop there that sells goods for humans that are hard to get in Equestria.”

"Probably meat," I thought, but decided not to elaborate. Nor to explain what those star-shaped wheels on the heels were for. The boots were cool, either way.

“I adore you. I'm really tired of wearing these half-valenki.”

Instead of answering, the unicorn hugged me tightly. I carefully ran my hand over her silky mane, touched her ears... so, Zhenyok, stop...

“And I brought something else from Canterlot,” Alyatara said, purring like a big cat. She freed herself from my embrace, skipped to the locker, and pulled out a large cardboard box.

“Caf you helf fe ofen?”

Wow.

This is the last time I saw radios like this... I've never seen anything like this anywhere.

A heavy varnished wooden case, massive fabric-covered speakers, a bronze card with an arrow under a convex glass in the middle. Not very clear abbreviations and numbers were applied to the disk. Several rotary verniers were located just below the disk.

"Can you set it up?" Alyatara asked, hope in her eyes. "I mean, this is human technology."

Oops.

I think I now understand what my grandmother felt when she was shown a smartphone. Only, so to speak, in a chrono-inverted order.

“How can I explain... In general, on Earth such things went out of use about fifty years before our time.”

The pony's ears drooped sadly.

“So we’ll have to use trial and error!” I quickly finished.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard to master the archeotech. Following the instructions, I inserted the lead-bar-like batteries into the slot under the back cover and clicked the switch. I waited until the light on the panel turned green and the speakers began to rustle. I started to turn the verniers, making the needle rotate.

For a while we heard only static, now softer, now louder. Once an irritated voice broke through: “… Nineteenth to Second, carriages gathering at Forty-Eighth and Kiger Streets, come in! Nineteenth…” Then there was more noise – and suddenly, with another turn of the handle, the following burst into the apartment:

“... are you planning on doing in the new year, Cheese?”

“The same thing we do every night, Pinkie. TRY TO MAKE LAUGH THE WORLD!!”

“Oh, seriously? Wait-wait-wait, did I say "seriously"? Oh-oh-oh, this is okie-doki-loki-nonawecoolsome! Cheese, check right now if the aliens have taken me over this morning, because if they have, then I'm not Pinkie, and if I'm not Pinkie, then there's no one to host our show tonight! And that means Equestria will be entering the new year without the last Radio Party of the year! Cheese... Cheese... Promise me you won't let that happen! For our children, Cheese!»

“Well, right now. You're pink - check. You're curled - check. You're jumping - check. You're definitely a real Pinkie, which means Equestria can celebrate in peace.”

“Wait, what is this? A list? You have a list and you check points off? Twilight, take off the illusion and tell me, your friend, what did you do with the real Cheese?”

Alyatara giggled quietly in her hoof. I smiled too, not even because the unknown DJ's joke seemed funny.

I just got into the festive mood.

“So, our plans for next year are to make all of Equestria laugh, because now, with our Radio Party, all of Equestria can finally take part in our parties! Do you agree, Cheese?”

“What about those who don’t have a radio?”

“Who don't have a radio? Come on! Remember before Hearth's Day, we asked everypony at the end of the show to write to us if they listened to our show? Well, not one letter we got said "I don't have a radio"!”

This time I giggled too. I wonder how many more old jokes have somehow magically crossed the line between worlds?

“And now, everypony, let's listen to the composition "To the Moon" by the famous band "Ponies at Dawn". Well, Pinkie and I will continue our New Year's Super Party after a short rest! Party on Radio Everhoof - stay on our frequency!”

The sounds of violin and piano poured out of the speaker. I grunted, lifting the radio and placing it on the top shelf. I didn't risk putting it on the table, afraid that it wouldn't hold the weight.

By that time we were hungry. The salads had not yet warmed up, but the pancakes had to be put in the oven. However, the delay was short-lived, and after a while they were back on the table.

Alyatara scooped up a spoonful of sour cream and a spoonful of blueberry jam, spreading it on the pancake and rolling it into a tube. She looked thoughtfully at the result.

“It’s not really a pancake flag anymore,” she said. “At least it’s an old-fashioned pancake flag. But to keep the tradition… Or to create a new one? Well, we’d have to take… I don’t even know. Aronia jam? Or sunberry?”

I raised an eyebrow. Silently – because I was cosplaying Gogol's Patsyuk. Only instead of a varenyk a second pancake flew into my mouth.

“Mmm,” Alyatara chewed her pancake. “Listen, I don't think Her Highness will be angry with us if I eat pancakes according to the old customs! They are too delicious! By the way, how do you like Mom's jam?

“Excellent,” I said honestly.

We finished the pancakes and gave the salads their due. Alyatara appreciated the Olivier, and also praised the herring under a fur coat, although I'm afraid it was out of politeness - I did something wrong, either undercooked the beetroot or chose the wrong fish. In short, we put the bowl with the uneaten salad in the refrigerator. We got out the tangerines.

A familiar mixture of pine and citrus scents… The shimmer of a crystal in a spruce tree… Quiet music from the speakers…

Now it really feels like home.

Muffled pops of firecrackers, laughter and stomping could be heard from the neighboring apartments, although the merriment did not reach the same scale as on the first festive night. Fireworks flew up over the roofs occasionally, and the glow of the lights also died down.

But we had lights too – and we didn’t even have to look for them for very long. The light went out, sparks hissed and flew away. The unicorn, laughing, tried to snatch the sparkler from my hand, I raised it higher, then she grabbed the second one and brought it close to mine. In a spray of sparks, in the semi-darkness, I allowed myself to openly admire her joyful smile, her swift movements, her huge eyes… stop, stop, stop…

The clock hand had almost reached midnight. I looked away with difficulty and took a bottle out of the refrigerator. I unwound the wires on the neck. Alyatara took out the glasses.

“Usually at this time we listen to the congratulations of the head of state,” I told her. “And you don’t have such a tradition?”

“The princess addresses the people on Hearth’s Night,” the pony shook her bangs. “I don’t think she’ll repeat the address for us, even if we decided to celebrate later.”

“Well, okay,” we both looked at the minute hand. There was no sign of the chimes or bells ringing, but we froze anyway, huddling together and looking at the clock. As if, like in childhood, we were waiting for something wonderful.

The hands touched midnight.

The cork popped.

The sparkling wine hissed.

“We say, ‘with New Year, with new happiness,’” I whispered to Alyatara.

“With New Year,” she repeated quietly. “With new happiness.”

The aquamarine head snuggle my shoulder. I reached to put the glass down, half-turned, looked at the unicorn throwing her front legs back at me, and put my arm around her shoulders. I smiled, and her face lit up with a smile too. I wanted to say something, but instead leaned closer.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

What am I doing?

What is she doing?

Because…

The taste of wine on the lips. Another, different sensation under the lips and tongue. From the lips of Alyatara, who was leaning forward.

What…

Who of us has gone crazy?

Who cares?

I finally found the strength to break away. Or did I run out of air in my lungs?

I looked at Aljatara.

“Are we sure we're not doing anything wrong?”

“I have no idea,” she breathed out. And, wrapping her pastern around my neck, she pulled me to her.

The hands found a will of their own. They slid along the back, feeling the flexible, strong body move beneath them. The fingers lightly touched the base of the tail, slid to the cutie mark - Alyatara visibly shuddered. They dove into the soft fur on the tummy, lingered...

The light from the fir tree lantern reflected in her eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed very quietly into my ear. “Yes.”

Delicate soft bumps under the palm… A damp shuddering warmth, different, unlike, somewhere wider, somewhere stronger… A quiet cry. The shirt that is pulled off me by hooves. A flapping tail, touching… Alyatara wriggles, awkwardly trying to give me space on the sofa and lie down on her side…

When I come in her, she did not scream – she only jerked her whole body, biting the pillow. I froze, and felt movement towards. Now there was a groan, short, sharp, more, more. It was awkward, strange, wonderful. I buried my face in the blue strands, moved my palm slightly down and to the side… Alyatara arched, gasped, the horn flared…

“Evgeniy!!!”

“Aly...!!!”

…

Blue-green sparks hissed quietly on the pillow.

…

I woke up suddenly, with a jerk, as if I had emerged from great depths. I opened my eyes.

It was pitch black all around. Even the magic crystal must have been discharged. Alyatara was breathing quietly under my hand.

Slowly, trying not to disturb her, I removed my hand. I moved away and sat on the sofa.

I straightened up and walked to the window.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.

What am I doing?

What am I doing here in this world?

Among alien creatures. Far from all humanity, except for a handful of madmen.

Am I trying unsuccessfully to pretend to be one of the locals?

I clenched my teeth, trying not to groan.

A rustling sound behind me.

Quiet tapping on the parquet.

Warm touch.

“Evgeniy? Is everything okay?”

I slowly turned around and looked at Alyatara.

I knelt even more slowly and held her in my arms.

“You’re amazing,” I whispered into her trembling ear. “I’m sorry. It’s… a severe attack of homesickness. You’re wonderful. It’ll pass in a moment.”

Instead of answering, Alyatara leaned forward and hugged me tightly, snuggle her muzzle into my shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered quietly. “Tomorrow will be a new year and a new day. Tomorrow… Everything will be tomorrow.”