//------------------------------// // IV - Xanthoria parietina // Story: Here Comes the Rain Again // by A Hoof-ful of Dust //------------------------------// Travel though the underground was slow meticulous work. The passages did not reach deep into the mountain, built with the assumption that ponies could travel freely through the open sections of Canterlot to reach different levels. Finding a clear path required significant amounts of retracing steps, backing through tunnels to take a separate fork because the first one chosen was collapsed or blocked by roots or simply went no further. At every point when it became necessary to venture outside, they paused by the opening, listening for the sounds of the timberwolf pack. It felt to Twilight like they were spending hours standing still in silence and darkness, waiting for a distant howl to cut through the rain. On their second “night” of travel, the passageways took them past granaries and pantries, emptied after the winter. What supplies would normally be there were consumed by the spreading fungus, spores swelling sacks of flour and barrels of oats until they burst. A vat of grain had spilled its contents over the floor, and from each separate pod grew a thin filament stalk topped by a tiny white cap. It looked like some obsessive pony had come by and marked each grain’s place with a long fine needle, in case they needed to be put back the way they were. They rested in a dead end a long distance from the last branch in the tunnels. Twilight lay her head on a patch of dry moss, looking at one of the protruding roots covered in mushroom caps. “Luna,” she asked, “if you weren’t a princess… what would you do?” “I… am unsure of your meaning, Twilight.” “Well, just say weren’t a princess any more. That you didn’t have to raise the moon, or look into other ponies’ dreams, or anything. What would you do?” Twilight could hear Luna considering. “I don’t rightly know.” “Oh.” “Perhaps I would work on reclaiming my title,” Luna said at last. A long moment of speechlessness passed between them, the sound of dripping water echoing up the tunnel. “I know what my sister would do,” said Luna, and when Twilight failed to respond, added: “She would knit.” “Knit? Like, making socks and things?” “Yes. She is quite taken with knitting.” Twilight tried to picture Princess Celestia with a pair of needles and a ball of yarn. “I’m having a hard time imagining that.” “She does not have opportunity to indulge her hobby often.” Another long pause, then: “What would you do, Twilight?” Twilight sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, although she did. “Perhaps you also want for equilibrium,” Luna mused. Her voice was calm, even. “Perhaps you simply wish for things to return to the way they were.” “Maybe,” Twilight whispered. “Twilight,” Luna said, resting a hoof on Twilight’s flank with a light touch, “look here.” Twilight turned her head. “Is this an image of the moon?” “No, it—” “Or the sun?” “No.” “Or a heart?” “No, it isn’t.” “No, it is not. It is an image that represents magic itself. Magic and all its aspects are an inseparable part of you, and it will always have led you to the road you now walk. This is and always has been your destiny.” “Did Princess Celestia know that, when she took me as her student?” “She may have suspected.” “Then why not just tell me?” Twilight asked. “I would have been prepared, so then…” She trailed off, finishing the thought in her mind: So then I wouldn’t be so afraid of doing something wrong. “Twilight, have you ever read a single story of a pony who knew their own destiny and was better off for it? Given great power and foresight, the wisest course is often to let events play out on their own.” “…That’s the sort of thing I’ll be learning, isn’t it?” “That is the sort of wisdom that comes with experience.” Luna looked into Twilight’s eyes. “You have the makings of a wise and just leader, and a great princess. I do not have my doubts that, in time, you shall surpass us all.” A shadow of a smile appeared on Twilight’s face. “…Does Celestia really like to knit?” she asked. “Never insinuate that your horn is ever cold,” Luna said with utmost seriousness, “or you will be wearing a procession of gaudy horn-warmers for many winters.” Twilight’s smile blossomed, and Luna smiled with her. She was able to perfectly picture Luna with a wooly cone perched awkwardly on her horn. After sleeping, they followed the crooked passage back out to where it led to an open area covered in the leathery plants with the orange flowers. The smell of rain was a welcome change to the musty underground of earth and dripping roots, but there was a second scent lurking beneath the rain, one of rot and decay. Both Twilight and Luna noticed it, and wordlessly they pressed closer against the walls, waiting. It wasn’t long before they saw the first timberwolf pad among the ugly flowers, green eyes shining through the haze of rain. The pack moved silently through the underbrush; Twilight made an attempt to count their numbers, but gave up when some of the sets of floating, glowing eyes doubled back across the patch of ground she could see. She had made it into the thirties, and was fairly sure she had marked less than half of them. What were timberwolves? She hadn’t seen any other animals around Canterlot, even though an area as heavily covered in jungle as this should have been teeming with wildlife. Whatever had caused them to go into hiding had clearly not done the same for timberwolves. Perhaps it was because they were more plant than animal? Maybe, as creations of the chaotic Everfree Forest, they were both and neither at the same time. She waited a long time with Luna, wondering. After three intervals of travel and sleep, they emerged from the underground on the level of Canterlot closest to the ground. The last they had heard from the timberwolves had been far in the distance back up the mountain, but they were still cautious stepping out into the rain. Twilight recognized the pattern among the bricks between weeds and roots: it was the grand road that led up to the steps to Canterlot Castle, which meant they were near the gates to the city. They were making their way past a fallen column covered in moss and mushroom spores when Luna paused in her tracks. Twilight paused, about to ask why Luna had stopped, but then noticed what she was fixated on. Through the hole the fallen column left in the canopy, Canterlot Castle was visible in the distance, wrapped and bound in vines and creepers. “It is difficult to see Canterlot in such a manner,” Luna said, her voice devoid of emotion. “This was the fate of our first castle. We built it within the heart of Everfree in a misguided effort to keep the region stable. It rebelled, and turned the gardens and the wildlife against us. It was then Celestia decided it would be prudent to leave the observation of the Everfree Forest to a safe distance.” “It won’t stay that way,” Twilight reassured her. “It shall not,” she agreed, and she started to walk again. Past the column and around the next corner lay a rusted tangle of metal, its golden color nearly impossible to see through the coat of moss. It was half of the gate at the entrance to Canterlot, fallen from its place while its twin hung from the city’s walls only by lashings of vines. Beyond those walls, the jungle waited. After leaving Canterlot, the ground still sloped away for some distance. Twilight knew this, though it was impossible to see where flat ground began through the dense jungle. In the city, the walkways and halls had been choked by vines and creepers; outside, in areas that would normally have been covered with clean fields of grass, grew giant trees. Their trunks were nearly the size of the magically-adjusted Ponyville library. Their thick canopy blotted out the sky, but the rain found ways down to the ground. It flowed down the trunks of the trees and sprayed off the vines growing there; it cascaded down the base of the mountain, forming turbulent streams that eroded the soil at the base of the great trees to expose a layer of roots. The rivers looked like they may have been possible to wade through despite the current, with some effort, but neither Twilight nor Luna were willing to take the risk on the steep decline. They proceeded down at a slow pace, silent and with heads low to avoid the stray showers of rain and to concentrate on every step. Twilight envisioned an easier terrain at the point when they reached flat ground; still covered with plants, but less dangerous to move through. This turned out to not be the case. When the surface looked as if it was about to level out, Twilight and Luna were greeted with a swampy undergrowth of moss that greedily drank in all the rainwater. It bloated and swelled at the edges of the streams, and deflated with a wet squelch if either pony put a hoof too close. Twilight feared the ground away from the mountain would be covered in the absorbent moss, but the reality proved more difficult; she and Luna arrived at the edge of what appeared to be a giant lake where she knew no such lake existed. All the rain had collected in the natural basin that lay outside of Canterlot, and now a body of water stood between them and Ponyville. Between them and the tree-colossus. “How should we proceed?” asked Luna. “It might not be too deep,” Twilight said, trying to sound hopeful. “We might be able to wade across. Or, if it’s deep enough, we might even be able to swim.” “Shall we try?” Luna asked. Wading through the shallows of the lake was easier than stepping around the moss. The water was dark, black in the stormy night. Twilight and Luna’s passage left ripples in the wake of their passage, but the rest of the lake was deathly still with the exception of a few stray places where steady streams of bubbles eked to the surface. Twilight made sure to give these spots a wide berth. The water was cool, but not all that much different from being out in the rain. She could have easily travelled towards Ponyville if the rest of the journey was like this, but it was not to be. A great splashing sound came from Luna’s direction. Twilight whipped her head around to see what had happened, and in doing so lost her footing and plunged into deep water. The ground had fallen away beneath her, the surface of the water concealing the drop-off. She surfaced and spat out a mouthful of boggy water, and saw Luna emerge in a similar state, wet to her newly-compact mane. “This is unfortunate,” Luna deadpanned. Something about the severe understatement of Luna’s words struck a chord within Twilight, and she couldn’t stop herself giggling. Being wet was unfortunate, the slow passage was unfortunate, everything was unfortunate. She saw Luna looking at her as if she had just sprouted a second head, which caused her to break into proper laughter. This was unfortunate indeed. Then Luna began to smile, the ridiculousness and sheer impossibility of the whole situation catching up with both of them, and Twilight laughed even harder. After worming their way beneath Canterlot, being back in the open was a catharsis she hadn’t recognized until she was floating, her hooves suspended from the bottom of the lake. Twilight took a deep breath, finally controlled. “How deep is it? Do you know?” “I can just touch the bottom, with some effort.” Luna sank a little to demonstrate, her head half-submerged. “So now I guess we swim,” Twilight said, shaking her wet mane out of her eyes. “Now we swim.” The calm of the lake was eerie. Trees grew from out of the water, rain from above dripping off the glowing mushrooms growing on their trunks. The heavy canopy formed a barrier against the storm, blocking not only the rain but most of the sound of falling raindrops and rolling thunder. Twilight almost wished there was less cover so there would be more sound; the silence broken only by their passage through the water and the mysterious bubbling from beneath the surface was the main cause in making the basin unnerving. Twilight lost track of time crossing the lake. It could have been hours, days, years. Each tree she had to swim around was a landmark yet each tree was the same. When they finally reached solid land on the far surface, Twilight staggered out of the water and collapsed among the spongy moss, exhausted. “I think,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath, “we should rest here tonight.” Luna lay down beside her, exhaling. “Will you take the first watch?” “Sure,” Twilight said, “I’ll do anything that isn’t more swimming.” They climbed among the roots of a tree by the edge of the lake, reasoning that anything that wanted to approach them would need to move through either the water or the mossy bank; either would make noise they would hear before anything got close. Free of the water and on a more exposed platform, Twilight found the air was cold, much colder than the passages under Canterlot. Any heat that collected here would just melt into the lake. As if to confirm, Luna gave a soft whinny and shivered as she lay against the tree’s trunk. If they stayed here, still damp from their marathon swim, they’d likely freeze. Twilight stepped over to Luna’s root and lay down right next to her, pressing in as close to her as she could. Luna’s eyes shot open. “Twilight, what…” she began. “Body heat,” she said, “we have to share body heat after being in the cold water for so long.” Twilight thought that Luna might ask her where she had learned this skill, or perhaps question her directness in applying it. Instead, she said after a pause: “Good thinking, Twilight.” “I’ll still keep watch first,” Twilight said. “Then you mustn’t fall asleep.” “I won’t,” she said, but this proved to be a difficult promise to keep: Twilight soon found her eyes falling shut and her head drifting off to the side. Luna was significantly more comfortable than roots and moss. Trying to blink sleep away, Twilight said, “Talk to me. Tell me something.” “What should I tell you?” Luna asked “I don’t know. Anything to keep me awake.” “I know a thing I would do if I were not a princess.” “What?” “I would not go hiking.” Twilight chuckled. “Me either.” “Though, I would not be adverse to taking part in an activity with you,” Luna said, “provided it required favorable weather.” Twilight could feel her breath brushing her mane. “Maybe we could watch the stars,” Twilight suggested. “I’ll bring my telescope.” “There was a pony I used to watch the stars with. He was very intelligent, gifted, to the point where he would often fixate on a minor detail and be unobservant of the greater situation. Kept his own counsel. He reminds me of somepony my sister spoke to me of, now that I pause to consider.” “I might know who you mean,” Twilight said with a smirk. “What was his name?” “Starswirl.” “Starswirl the Bearded?” “The same. Though he was not called such when I knew him, for he wore no beard as a young stallion. I was quite fond of him.” Quite fond? What did that mean? A curious part of Twilight wanted to ask and clarify, but she was concerned that saying anything would draw attention to the heat rising in her face. “But,” Luna continued, “I do not think he ever knew the extent of my affections. Perhaps he may have suspected, some nights. I shall never know.” “Why didn’t you tell him?” Twilight asked. “Perhaps that I shall never know that, either. I’m not sure I would stay my tongue, however, were I to suddenly find myself in my younger self’s horseshoes.” “Why not?” “Because the consequences of risk,” Luna said, “are an easier burden than regret. Everything can be chanced, for everything is ephemeral. Nothing is permanent.” A long moment of contemplation passed between both ponies. Finally, Luna broke the silence and said, “I believe I am sufficiently warm.” “Me too,” said Twilight as she got to her hooves, thinking about just why it was she felt so warm. Keeping watch was an unentertaining process. Twilight tried to keep her mind occupied, but there was only so many times she could recite favorite passages of books she’d memorized before the cherished turns of phrase all turned to nonsense. She found herself wanting Luna to be awake more and more for her period as guard—which was ironic, for if Luna were awake then Twilight would no longer need to guard her. Twilight glanced back to Luna’s sleeping form, curled up beneath a tree. The stars in her mane shone with the light of distant fields of fireflies. She wondered if the stars beyond the canopy and the never-ending storm were still up in the sky, still the same stars she had watched. If we fix everything… if we get rid of all the plants and raise the sun again… will it all really just go back to the way it was? Will it be like nothing out of the ordinary happened? Would anypony be able to tell? Still looking at the stars in Luna’s mane, Twilight felt somewhere deep down they might, if they knew exactly what to look for. And then she heard the sound from behind her. Twilight whipped her head around in the direction of the unmistakable sound of a pony was pulling their hoof free from the boggy moss, and found herself looking at a shape in the darkness. This was no timberwolf, bristling bark hide and radiant eyes, nor was it any other beast native to the depths of the Everfree Forest. A pony stood with one hoof in the mire, watching her. Watching them. Then the pony-shape turned and bolted back into the shadows. “Wait!” Twilight called, leaping from the root she had perched on and wading through the moss. She could see the figure weaving through the trees, darting in and out of the ever-present low light of the mushrooms. Galloping as fast as she could through the thick forest, Twilight tried to keep the shadowy pony in view. She heard a splash; the other pony was crossing some separate branch of the lake. Twilight followed in rapid pursuit, calling out again. The other pony gave no indication they had heard Twilight at all, cutting through the water with a queer fluid grace, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Twilight was about to redouble her efforts when she heard it. The sound must have been faint and distant when it began, and it must have crept in beneath her conscious understanding, but now with panic beginning to take a hold of her she could hear it clearly. It was a buzzing, roaring sound that was suddenly everywhere around her. The sound of rushing water. The sound of a waterfall. “Luna!” she called. She was far from solid ground, she suddenly realized, and she could feel the water no longer being calm. Her eyes darted around for a tree to swim towards, something to hold on to so she wouldn’t be swept away in the growing current, but all of the nearby trees were disappearing in the darkness as she was carried along by the river. It was difficult to see for much of a distance. She was so busily hoping for a trunk sprouting out of the increasingly-rapid water that her eyes skipped right over the slick black rock. Twilight collided with the rock, and while she felt no pain it knocked the wind from her. She sunk beneath the water, and she fought to the surface, scrabbling to find some grip on the rock that would keep her in place. She burst into the air and took almost a full breath before being driven back into the lake. The roaring of water was a windy howling one moment, then a bubbling jet the next. She was turned by the sudden river, unaware she was upside down until a hoof kicked into the air. A wild crazy thought went through her mind that she wasn’t able to drown, not while time had stopped, and then the world shrunk to a tiny dot in the center of her vision the size of a pinhead. The rest was swirling and black. The last thing she was aware of was Luna’s voice calling her name.