Title: Part 3: The early days with Vagrant Flame Author: Anonymous Pastebin link: http://pastebin.com/qKreDrm9 First Edit: Sunday 29th of December 2013 08:03:11 PM CDT Last Edit: Sunday 29th of December 2013 08:03:11 PM CDT For a while, things worked out.   You came to trust Vagrant enough that you could leave the house with her cleaning, so you could go get groceries. She had said she liked liquid foods the best.   "You can carry a bottle and drink while you walk. Or fly," she had said with a grin, hooves tapping together in front of her happily as she floated around you, "So if you have a big bag or a satchel, you can carry a bunch of containers of liquid no problem. It was what I was doing before..." she trailed off, antenna drooping, "Before I lost it."   You'd thought about it as you were in town, getting lettuce, carrots, oats...all the usual things you ate on a day to day basis in the land of pony-kind. Picking up extra broths, honey, and vegetables to try and make soups for Vagrant's  consumption, you'd spotted a store that specialized in travel bags. Whether saddlebag or an over the shoulder kind, they had it.   And so, after talking with the store keep, you'd made your purchase. A simple slung satchel. One that would, hopefully, not be a bother to Vagrant's wings, and was short enough it wouldn't drag the ground if she walked.   When you got home with your bags and the gift, conspicuously wrapped in parcel papers so she wouldn't see it right away, you had set the groceries on the kitchen table and taken the satchel to your room.   Vagrant hadn't greeted you as you entered. Had she left already, after only a few days?   But then why tell you what she likes to eat, or share any information with you at all?   Opening the door to your room, you were relieved to see her lying on the bed, napping soundly.   The bed sheets were folded nicely under her, and the room was remarkably clean. Other than the faint traces of pollen or dust that Vagrant herself shook everywhere just by being here. But it was faint enough you didn't mind.   The room was warm, you remember. Sunlight streaming in through the closed window, making her dark wings appear gray, but turning her dark brown tone into an almost fiery red and orange. She slept like any pony did; On her stomach, resting her head on her front hooves like a pillow despite being on a bed, but had her elegant wings spread out and folded downward. She was smiling in her sleep, the small grin setting your heart aching.   She was beautiful. And she hadn't left.   You weren't sure why it made you feel so relieved that she was still there, but it did.   It was the first sign of the inevitable.       ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------     You hadn't had the heart to wake her, so you'd gone about hiding the satchel in the living room, under the couch. It'd given you time to think while checking that the house was, indeed, clean.   You had no complaints. She had done a fantastic job. Better than you, even.   Scoffing gently to yourself, you went about putting the groceries away in the pantry and meager cupboards you had in the kitchen. The broths were shifted from travel containers to the ones you had in the kitchen, and you'd been debating making some oats with honey when Vagrant had floated into the kitchen, sheepish smile on her face.   "Oh, you're back already," she said bashfully, "Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep like that. The room was just so cozy I-"   You had waved her off with a smile of your own, assuring her it was okay. She'd done her job, she could take a nap if she wanted.   "You're too kind," she'd said before floating to your side near the stove, sniffing the air eagerly before rubbing her hooves together, "Are you making something with honey?"   You nodded, and she'd swooned, doing a dizzying back flip in the air and nearly kicking your ceiling as you jumped back in an effort not to get clobbered.   "I haven't had honey in ages!" she said excitedly, leaning over the stove and looking down into the pot, "Ah! But these are oats! You're mixing them together?"   You nodded, cautiously moving back to the bubbling pot while Vagrant watched over your shoulder.   "I can eat that stuff too, but only if it's thin and not chewy. Not that I can't eat it if it's thicker, but...I don't like my stomach feeling heavy. Makes me feel weighed down and less able to fly."   "It's just how I feel," she'd reinforced at your quizzical look, "I could still fly but it always feels harder like that."   So you'd made the oats uncharacteristically thin for yourself, making it more like a soup than a porridge.   "Can I have extra honey in mine?" Vagrant asked excitedly, "I'll organize your stuff for you tomorrow while I'm cleaning! Or I can help you take care of your yard or something! Please?"   She was too eager to ignore, and you'd given her an extra three spoonfuls. She was drooling, eyes glittering, by the time you'd finished. You started eating your liquidy oats with honey as she closed her eyes, muttered something under her breath, then opened them and started eating eagerly.   Or, drank, rather.   She lifted the bowl and started sucking down great mouthfuls of the oats in a brash lack of table manners that made you nearly sputter your oats back into your bowl with laughter.   "I guess traveling alone doesn't teach you how to eat without so much noise," you'd joked, laughing as she eyed you sidelong, not putting the bowl down to rebut you.   That meal was also when you got your first lesson of moth pony physiology.   When Vagrant had slurped and gulped down most the oats, she'd opened her mouth and started licking the bowl clean. You laughed at first, until she held the bowl at hoofs length and her tongue was still in it, stretching an incredible distance and still licking at the honey and oat scraps in the bowl.   Vagrant had given you a strange sidelong look that you didn't notice for a good few minutes as you stared at her tongue. It was thin and incredibly long, curling up over the edge of the bowl and licking the inside even as Vagrant turned the bowl to you and asked for a half serving more.   "With extra honey," she'd said happily, tongue still stuck out as you took the bowl from her and filled her request.   When you handed it back her tongue moved up and tickled your cheek playfully, a happy smile from Vagrant showing she didn't think it all that strange. And then she was burying her face in the bowl of oats again, noisily eating away at the meal.   Your appetite slightly lessened, you picked the bowl up and sipped what more of the sweet oats you could, figuring that if Vagrant was going to eat that way you might as well too. She got what you couldn't eat too, not afraid to eat after you.     That night's sleep was a little better than the last. You were more comfortable with Vagrant spooning you now, as she seemed to prefer sleeping while holding onto you from behind. She was a cozy cuddler, especially after spreading her wings out over you.   "Thanks again for being so generous," she said sleepily, yawning and smacking her lips gently before nuzzling her nose into the nape of your back, "You're the nicest anyone has been to me for a long while, now...."   Rubbing her hoof gently, you hadn't said anything. You weren't sure why you were helping her, truthfully, other than it just felt right. Despite having showed up almost randomly in your home, she was starting to feel like your friend. Hard to believe it had only been a few days since she'd arrived.   Had you known how things would go later, maybe you never would've given her that satchel. Maybe it sent the wrong message, in the end...   How had you known that she would leave even after the two of you had....   Sitting at the kitchen table, you shake your head. That particular memory still too fresh, too painful in light of Vagrant's leaving, to reminisce right now.   She hadn't called herself Flame for nothing, either.   Jotting down the memories into a journal, all personal thoughts exposed, you continue to work on the memo. Even with her gone, you never want to forget the nights spent with her. Not the early, kind of awkward ones. Or the later, more passionate, ones.   You'll get to those later.