The sun was falling in the sky, losing what little winter heat it possessed. Those who flew high above the ground knew the heat faded before the light, and could guess the time without having to see the sun.
Pony cities typically had their weather teams make idyllic snowfalls on Hearth’s Warming Eve, and all those clouds had to come from somewhere. Out above near-untamed wilderness, the sun shined brilliant and white in a sky so clear it looked like a painted roof.
Gabby Griffon squinted against the unfiltered light. One last parcel to deliver, way out here in the middle of nowhere. An address for a hamlet so small it appeared on no maps. A job Gabby wanted as she overheard the Griffonstone postmaster complaining about it. Any other member of his crew would make a cursory search then mark it undeliverable, if they even bothered with that on the night of Blue Moon.
They didn’t give it to Gabby. She volunteered.
At least she had a postal code. Other deliveries to better-known villages gave her directions. A curious, quiet region of the north – mostly earth ponies, but with some of their crystal cousins from the nearby empire, with clouds managed by griffon neighbors. A crossroad of cultures too far from the beaten path to actually be a crossroad, just gradual osmosis of individuals and families from three close neighbors.
A pony lumber camp directed her to a griffon rookery, who pointed her to the hamlet. A deserted place they said was only inhabited in the fall months for truffle hunts. A small cluster of wooden shacks, most not even built with panes in the windows. No address on any of them, but her destination was clear: a proper little cottage, with its front path raked clean and a tiny garden of ice carrots and other such winter plants in the back.
Gabby knocked. No answer.
“Miss Mistmane? Package for you!”
She knocked again without much hope. Something was wrong. No smoke from the chimney. Darkness inside. Hoofprints in the snow going out and into the forest.
Nothing wrong, per se. The occupant just wasn’t home. Certainly, any other mail carrier would leave their package on the front steps and return home, proud of the difficult delivery and anxious to start their own holiday.
Gabby shivered – not so much ‘from’ the cold as to test it. Definitely cooler than it was fifteen minutes ago. Still bright outside, not for much longer.
She was already moving. No one here to ask after Mistmane, and wasn’t she an old mare? If something happened…
A long, slow glide followed the hoofprints, though when they reached the trees she became obliged to walk. Strange – here and there a flower bloomed out of one of the prints. But she supposed that given the pony in question it wasn’t strange at all. The bright breadcrumbs sped her chase, and soon the old mare came into view.
She was already turned to face Gabby, the griffon having not at all been discreet in her pursuit. The gray-blue eyes in the gray-purple face poked from a fully-gray overcoat complete with hood and (gray) scarf.
Gabby spoke first. She had a habit of doing that. “Miss Mistmane! Miss Mistmane!”
She pounced, ancient predator instincts lending themselves to an altogether innocent show of enthusiasm. The old mare smiled with polite confusion, not even flinching as Gabby landed on the snow before her.
“I’m Gabby Griffon, I’m your biggest fan!”
Mistmane raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s–”
“And I brought a package! That’s the Griffonstone Mail creed, for you. ‘You get what you pay for.’ And Star Swirl wanted your present...” Gabby pawed at her satchel, then winced. “Wait, I left it on your doorstep.”
“Thank y–”
“Yeah, I got worried because the sun’s getting low and you being an old mare out here by yourself I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened.”
Mistmane’s smile twitched. “I’m not–”
“Anyway, I really like your story, even more than the other pony pillars. See, I always loved reading about ponies and we have a library in Griffonstone that has a lot of books on them. At least I used to think it was a lot until I was old enough to actually travel to Equestria and learn you have wayyyyy more books. And it’s even better because your libraries don’t charge you to check them out!”
Gabby took a breath.
Silence. Mistmane’s gaze remained upon her, above a pleasant smile.
Gabby breathed out. She clasped her claws and bowed her head. “Sorry. I’m a blabber-beak, I know.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, child.” Mistmane said, humor dancing in her eyes.
“Ooh, you talk just like how I imagined!” Gabby gushed. “But, uh, it’s going to be dark soon. Why are you out here?”
Mistmane gestured with her head to the surrounding woods. “Call it a passion project, now that my responsibilities have lifted enough that I may chase them. I wish to catalog every flower in Equestria and compile them into a sketchbook. Most have come easily – one has not. A mystic flower called Friendship’s Bloom, which paradoxically is said to only grow in secluded woods on Hearth’s Warming Eve. Supposedly the ashes from that first great flame became seeds and drifted across the land. Local legend says one was seen around here, and every now and then a forager stays into the winter to try their luck. None have succeeded. I decided to try my hoof.”
“Great! I’ll help.”
Silence. Gabby beamed down at the pony.
One of Mistmane’s eyebrows rose. “On Hearth’s Warming – sorry, Blue Moon Eve?”
Gabby’s smile shrunk at the margins. “I can’t just leave an old lady alone in the cold, can I?”
“I’m not actually that old, you know.”
“Aren’t you all, like, over a thousand?”
Mistmane barked a low laugh. “Touche, but physically I didn’t turn myself into an old mare. I just look like one.”
“Come on,” Gabby wheedled. “Four eyes will find it twice as fast. I’ll be worried all the way home if I don’t stick around.”
A wind cut through the trees, earning a shiver from both and ending the debate.
“Suit yourself,” Mistmane said, and turned away.
Even she didn’t fully know what they were looking for, but with the description in tow - ‘a very large and beautiful flower’ – Gabby didn’t think they could rightly miss it. She orbited the slower Mistmane, launching herself to branches for higher views while the unicorn prodded at the ground.
Perhaps a half hour later, the sun’s light began to dim, following its heat.
Mistmane gave an irate huff. “Look at us, this is silly. I can go back now if you’re still worried.”
“But we haven’t found it,” Gabby said.
“A fool’s errand that I’ve now dragged you into. You should be home with your family.”
Another moment of silence, this one from Gabby.
“You don’t know much about griffons, do you?”
A pause.
Then, “No, I suppose I don’t.” Mistmane gave her a kindly smile. “I do appreciate this, Gabby. Let’s make a deal: we’ll keep at it til the sun turns red. If there is still nothing, then we will have at least met someone new this day, a thing greater than any silly little plant. We will return to my cottage together, and warm ourselves with the tea and stew I have ready. And you will of course be welcome to stay the night rather than fly out in the dark.”
“I’d like that,” Gabby said, then laughed. “Especially with you! Not to get all celebrity or anything.”
“Mm, is that why you took a delivery all the way out here?” Mistmane teased. “Merely to meet a famous pony?”
“Oh, I always work my tail-feathers off for Hearth’s Warming,” Gabby laughed. “Every package that gets through is a present to be opened on the special day, not awkwardly getting delayed to the next week or more. Just like those puppet shows you ponies put on, you know? Like the reindeer or the good Windigo, saving Hearth’s Warming for all the kids. And I mean it’s not like I have any parties of my own to get… to…”
She trailed off, clamping her beak and focusing on the search, until Mistmane called up to her on a branch.
“That’s very good of you, you know.”
“What? Oh, er, it’s nothing.” Gabby chuckled, scratching the back of her neck. “Nothing compared to you.”
“What makes you say that?” Mistmane asked. “Near as I can see, we are much the same.”
Gabby glided down. “Are you kidding? You’re literally a legend! You were the most beautiful pony in all Neighpon, then you gave it up for the evil empress even though she didn’t deserve it.”
“First off: yes, she did,” Mistmane said sternly. “Second, it’s not like I needed my beauty to live. I gave that then, and now, it is you giving your free time.”
“That’s not the same at all!”
“Isn’t it?” Mistmane gave a coy smirk.
Gabby nodded. “Yeah. This is just an evening. You lost your beauty forever.”
“Young Gabby, beauty isn’t forever. My face always would have wrinkled, my good looks always would have faded. And you – one day you won’t be quite so mobile, yet here you are giving freely of your wings and speed. That is the important thing, be it beauty or vigor: to share what we have, while we may.”
They searched on a little longer in thoughtful quiet before Gabby replied. “Hoo wow, if you were trying to make yourself seem less cool, it did not work.”
“That’s fine, so long as you see the same in yourself.” Mistmane’s smile remained, though she gave a quiet sigh. “Look: the sun is red, so it is time to turn around. Yet I am not disappointed, for the better part of the evening remains to us. I am not boasting when I claim to be a wonderful cook, and soon you shall see as well.”
They turned, and began plodding back. The meager heat of the winter sun was gone now, and Mistmane gave a wincing shiver that did not fully pass.
“I suppose I am old,” she mused. “It is easy to forget, looking like this since my twenties. But now even ignoring my sojourn to the Shadow dimension I am seventy-one.”
And then suddenly there was warmth on all sides of her. A massive, downy wing draped over like the most wonderful blanket, and a soft, fluffy body pressed alongside.
Mistmane laughed. “Come now, Gabby, I’m hardly about to keel over. We’re almost home.”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabby said. “I’m just sharing what I have.”
“Gabby Griffon? Hmph, ‘Cheeky Griffon,’ they should call you,” Mistmane grumbled, but laughed all the same.
Then they stopped, for a pink glow shined through the trees before them. The pair hurried on, all the way back to the very edge of the woods before they met, where now a magnificent flower grew from the covered soil. Its petals stretched out a full meter, and the emanating pink aura gave warmth without melting the snow around it.
“I love it, but… how?” Gabby squawked. “I passed right by here. So did you! I was following your hoofprints.”
Yet Mistmane was delighted. “Of course, of course! A lone griffon, lone mage, lone foragers… all looking for Friendship’s Bloom! It takes two to find it, of course. Two friends…”
She crept close, and from her own worn saddlebag produced a sketchbook. Notes on the size and color, the shape of the stalk and feel of its glow. Only a few moments to get it all down. Then she put it away, and together they moved on – one’s wing overt the other, leaving the precious flower untouched.
Mistmane shared the stew, hot and hearty and delicious. Then the tea, then the hot chocolate. Gabby shared the warmth of her down as they cuddled on the couch beside the fireplace, rejuvenating the old mare with heat and comfort.
They fell asleep on the sofa together. Neither saw the pink glow that came from the fireplace that night, for a lifelong friendship had begun. Another seed was planted, and the next Hearth’s Warming another flower would grow.
Author's Note
Happy belated Hearth's Warming to all! And Nailah, I hope you enjoyed. 
