	"Hollow Shades is a really neat town. It has most of its residential sector built way up in the trees. Wooden bridges span from tree to tree, which have immense platforms built on and around them. The trees themselves are huge; the canopy of the forest is dense and blots out the sun almost everywhere except the very center of town. Nearly every tree grows some kind of fruit too: mangoes, cherries, pineapples, oranges, grapefruits, apples; you name it, a tree somewhere nearby probably has it. A small creek also runs through the floor of the forest, beneath the tree-loft town. Nearby sits the old, rustic train station and a seldom-used track.
	At night, the town is incredibly active. Bat-ponies run around taking care of their nightly chores and tasks. During the day, the town is almost completely silent aside from the occasional tourist, the few nurses and doctors at the hospital, and some ponies working in shops. There is often very little point in coming to Hollow Shades during the day, if one has seen the town at night. There is, obviously, less to do in the day than in the night.
	This town means a lot to mama though. It's where she was born and raised, it's where her sister lives, and it's where her parents currently reside. She likes to visit as often as she can, even though she never sees her sister or visits her old house. The only thing she does is visit her parents.
	This is also the first thing we do when we arrive in town. The five of us sit in a small clearing just outside of town, beneath a large oak tree. We laugh, we smile, we have a good time, but a twinge of pain and sadness pulses through my heart.
	Papa places a hand on my shoulder and smiles. He whispers, "She needs this." I smile back and nod as I look at the two granite slabs. One says "Angel Tear" and has a winged heart depicted on it, similar to mama's cutie mark. The other reads "Brick Kindler" and displays a chisel laid over a brick. Mama always tells me that her parents loved each other a lot. I've seen pictures of them. My grandma was beautiful; moreso than mama. She had the same dark gray coat as mama, but her hair was a darker shade of blue, almost like the night sky. Her eyes were a soft blue, nearly the same color as a clear sky. I wish I could have met her. From what mama's told me, grandma was a much better mama than she is.
	Grandpa, from what mama tells me, was a very strong, very smart pony. He made an honest living making bricks. Mama rarely says much about him, though. She says he favored her sister, despite still loving her very much. It makes me happy that I'm an only child, as selfish as that is.
	"Sirocca." I look up as papa's voice catches my ears. "It's time to go." His voices carries sorrow. I look over at mama, who tries to smile, despite tears streaming down her cheeks. I swallow hard, run up to her, and press myself into her side. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and mutters to herself. I barely catch her words, but I know she said something about trying her hardest to keep me safe, and to always protect me.
	"I love you, mama." I say as I tuck my nose into her shoulder. She covers me with her wing as we walk away from the clearing, back into town. She's strong. She doesn't sniffle, she doesn't bawl, her tears stop, and she smiles. She is stronger than I will ever be; I don't know what I'd do if I lost her or papa. It's a scary though that I push out of my head almost immediately.
	It doesn't take long for us to get back to town. We venture around, almost aimlessly, until we stop at a small fruit stand in the center of town. I look around while mama and papa talk to the vendor. On the other side of the empty square, I see another bat-pony trotting around. She would not really be notable at all under normal circumstance, but she is awake during the day. What is even more alarming is that she has a pale purple coat, curly, frizzly, light purple hair, and if I'm not mistaken, because I cannot see very well from this distance, bright blue eyes. My heart and mind race, and something within me twinges. Before I know it, I'm running toward her. I don't know why,  but something deep inside me is telling me to go to her. I don't know if mama and papa notice, or follow, but I don't care.
	The bat-pony sees me and, by the look on her face, I can see an accumulation of sudden fear. She turns and takes off. I continue my chase and rush down the wooden roads. I get a good look of her flank. On it sits a crescent moon with three strings strung from one end to the other.
	"Wait!" I shout, "I need to talk to you!" She doesn't stop running. Neither do I. We turn a sharp corner, then another. My legs feel like they're on fire, but I don't stop. She banks into an alley between two shops and, as I follow, I notice she's gone and the alley dead-ends.
	"Who are you!?" I scream. A door at the far end of the building on the right creaks and closes. I rush to the door and try to knob. Locked! Frustrated, I stamp my hooves on the ground and screech.
	After taking a moment to calm down and collect my thoughts, I study the door. A small plaque is nailed to its sturdy wooden form that reads: "Stairwell to apartments A-1 through C-3." Beside the door, a large three-by-three metal box with nine locked compartments is built into the wall. Upon closer examination, I can make out a few names: "Aurora," "Pomma Granite," and "Nectar." The others are either scratched out or too wind-worn to read. I try the door again. Still locked.
	I look around the alley for something that can help me. A slab of wood, some nails, a mango pit, and a rusty iron bar will most likely not help me into this building. I trot around to the front of the building. A large sign above the door reads: "Nectar's Flowers." Is her name Nectar?