A Story Worth Telling

by Elkia Deerling

Words

Special paths had been made, which were kept snow-free and salted so that every patient of the Ponyville hospital could enjoy a little walk. As I said, nature is good for the mind. The mountainous surroundings treated us to beautiful valley after beautiful valley. It looked as if even the trees had been made snow-free, to show some green in the otherwise monotonous white of the snow and the grey of the mountains.

“I had never really bothered taking one of the walking paths,” Sunray said as we walked a relatively flat path. “I mean, I couldn’t see any of the scenery, and not being able to see while walking on a mountain path might get a tad dangerous.” He breathed in deep, letting fresh mountain air into his lungs. “But I’m glad we can go outside together, Sweet Tooth. You honor your name.”

“How so?” I said.

Sunray chuckled. “Well, because you are so sweet.”

To that, we both let out a burst of laughter. Laughter… I couldn’t even remember the last time I laughed. It seemed so long ago. When was the last time? Maybe after I got drunk in the Buckingham Bar? No, that was not real laughter; that was drunken giggling. This was real laughter: sharing a funny moment with a friend.

As we took a bend in the road, walking between the pine trees, I realized that Sunray was the first friend I ever had. Sure, I did have my mates in the Buckingham Bar I always played cards with—and I usually won—but Sunray was different. All of the thoughts and memories I had shared with Sunray I couldn’t possibly have shared with my mates in the bar. Those ponies were too… simple. Not that being simple is a bad thing, it is just that Sunray had a unique view of the world and the ponies in it. He was deeper than my mates. And I was proud to call him my friend.

I held his hoof in my own, so Sunray didn’t need to use his walking stick, which he normally held in his mouth. That way, he could talk with me, and I warned him of gaps or rocks on the path which could make him trip. Our cooperation skills were quite good, as Sunray hadn’t even tripped once. I was his seeing-eye-pony.

“Oh, this is a nice one,” I said, as we rounded the corner. There was a beautiful valley below, and I was going to give Sunray a nice description to make the valley even more beautiful. We stopped.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Sunray said. “Is it to the left or to the right? Then I’ll pretend to be looking at it.”

As we chuckled, I put his nose in the right direction. Of course, he couldn’t see a thing, but it’s the effort that counts. And besides, maybe this made him feel a bit more normal.

“Down below, the valley stretches out like an enormous bowl filled with snow. It almost looks like a bowl of yogurt. The rims of the valley are flanked by enormous spruce trees, waving in the air as if they greet the mountain breeze. Below there is a frozen lake, an infinite mirror of which I think it wouldn’t just reflect your appearance, but also lay bare the depths of your soul. “

“Ha, imagine that,” Sunray said, “a mirror that reflects your soul. A magical mirror-lake.”

I talked to Sunray, but still kept my gaze glued to the beautiful valley below. “That could be nice. Maybe the lake has even more magical powers. Maybe it could reflect your future. Maybe the future is as bright as the light of the sun, reflecting off the lake.”

And so we dreamed away for a while, standing on the path and gazing into the valley. Suddenly, I saw an owl taking flight from one of the nearby trees. It let out a hoot as it scanned the snowy ground below, searching for prey.

“Oh, what’s happening?” Sunray said, perking up his ears.

I smiled. “A lone hunter of the unwary, with eyes as sharp as the wind, with an agility that puts graceful to shame.”

“Good one, Sweet Tooth. It’s an owl, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I said.

Sunray let out a moan. “Oh, now you’ve made me jealous.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, if I had the eyes of an owl, those big, yellow, hunter’s eyes, then maybe I could see some more of Equestria.”

We laughed for minutes on end, filling the valley with the sound of our voices. The owl must have thought we were mad. And maybe the beast was right; we were in a mental institution, after all.

But things had changed. The time spent in the Ponyville hospital felt less wasted somehow. No, not somehow; there was a very clear explanation for that. My time in the hospital had given me a friend, my first and only friend. Things seemed better when I was around Sunray. His good-natured—and sometimes cynical—humor kept us both standing. But there was more than that, because I had a complete picture of Sunray. I could look past the jokes and the laughter and see the fragile pony beneath that. That was not a bad thing; it made our friendship feel more genuine. Good friends share happy moments; best friends share every moment, no matter how dark or gloomy.

Sunray pulled on my hoof. “Let’s go and see what else this mountain has to offer us.”

I nodded, and together we shuffled on.

We were faster than you might expect, and I felt myself almost walking at my normal walking speed. There were many gaps and rough parts on the path, but very often I didn’t even need to warn Sunray about the obstacles; he just stepped past them. It was as if he had a sixth sense, as if his lack of sight was made up to him by giving him something else in return. I know it sounds silly, but you should have been there.

We entered a patch of spruces and pines, which belonged to a whole part of wooded terrain, nestling snugly on the mountainsides.

Perhaps Sunray could feel the needles underneath his hooves, or perhaps he smelled the scent of pinecones and tree sap and bark. He turned his head around, and he sniffed the new scent. “Are we in a forest now, Sweet Tooth?”

“We are,” I said.

“What does it look like? I bet it’s beautiful.”

“It’s dark, for the sun is having a hard time penetrating the crowns of the trees. They are fresh, healthy spruce trees and pine trees, standing around us and looking us over. Maybe they are silently wondering what a fresh, young colt as myself is doing alongside an old stallion like you.”

“Hey! That’s not what they’re thinking,” Sunray said.

I whinnied with a mocking smile on my face. “I don’t know that. You’ll have to ask the trees.”

Sunray nodded. “Fair enough. You got any more?”

“Oh yes. The forest is a bit darker than the open valleys we have come across, but that doesn’t make it any less beautiful. We could chop down and take away one of these spruces; it doesn’t even matter which one. Whichever tree we choose, it is sure to make a nice Hearth’s Warming tree.”

Tapping his chin with his hoof, Sunray said, “A forest full of Hearth’s Warming trees, huh? It’s a shame we didn’t take any axes with us.”

We chuckled, but then I quickly continued my description.

“An aura of mystery surrounds these trees. Who knows what is lurking in these woods, observing us? What’s a forest to us is like a village to all of the animals.” My story was interrupted by a couple of squirrels, dashing past us and disappearing between the trees. I decided to include them in the tale. “A few squirrels skitter about, stressing and panting, hurrying to hide enough acorns to survive the winter, and always hoping that no other animal will find them first.”

Sunray laughed. “You make the forest sound magical.”

“Perhaps it is,” I said. “Perhaps the mystery of this forest is an ancient source of magic, or a den with a vicious monster which needs to be conquered. The way this forest just envelops us, I would almost believe it.”

“Jeez, Sweet Tooth. You’re giving me goosebumps with your story.” Sunray shivered to illustrate his words.

I grinned. “That’s the whole point.”

“Can you guide me towards one of the trees, Sweet Tooth? I want to feel the bark.”

So I did. Just a few paces off the path, and Sunray stood directly opposite of a large pine. Slowly, almost reverently, the old pony touched the bark with his hoof. As I observed this strange ritual, I noticed how much Sunray’s skin looked like the bark of the pine. “What are you doing?”

“Just feeling,” Sunray said, as he moved his hoof up and down. “I like the feeling of bark. It is rough and strong, able to bear an enormous load of needles and pinecones, getting them as close to the sky as possible.” After some minutes, he put his hoof down once more, and we walked towards the path together. Sunray wasn’t tired yet, when I asked him. No, quite the contrary, Sunray seemed more alive than ever. He didn’t even pant or sweat or anything. Right now, as we walked together through the forest, I could hardly imagine he was the same pony I had seen sitting in the solarium day by day, staring into nothingness. This Sunray was funny and tenacious and energetic. In my eyes, he seemed to grow years younger. Maybe, when we would finish the mountain trail, he would be as young as me.

“I like nature, Sweet Tooth,” Sunray said. “It is always so perfect. Every critter and every plant is designed to live in perfect harmony with the rest of the world.” He took a deep breath and then sighed contently.

“But then why are we not?” I said. The words left my lips before I could call them back.

The ever so thoughtful Sunray had difficulties with the question. I could almost hear the rusty cogs in his brains working and turning. The old pony took a few deep breaths and looked around—or listened around. We were silent for a while; Sunray clearly took the time to mull over my question, letting it linger in his mind. His ears kept turning around, as if one of the trees would whisper the answer to him. Slowly, almost stuttering with hesitation, he gave the question his best shot.

“I think we ponies are created with a purpose, dear Sweet Tooth,” he said. “It has to do with fate, luck, and destiny. The fact that one door is shut doesn’t mean that you should wait at the other side, trying desperately to open it. There are other doors, other possibilities. If I hadn’t been blind from birth, I would maybe have been a painter or a writer. But because I was so good at listening and understanding, I became a social worker, and was able to help so many ponies.”

I snorted, although I didn’t realize I did. “I don’t believe in destiny or fate. They say your destiny is on your flank in the form of your cutie mark. I don’t believe that. Destiny is as fake as cutie marks.”

Sunray was silent for a minute, then nodded. “I understand that you see it that way, given your situation. But that actually brings me to my second point: challenge.”

“Challenge?”

Sunray nodded. “Yes, little Sweet Tooth, challenge. I think everypony is born with something he or she has to overcome. With me it is my lack of sight, with you—and I apologize for my directness—it is your vague cutie mark. Maybe for somepony else it is not being able to hear, or not being able to walk. If there is one thing I have learned from my stay in the Ponyville hospital, it is that everypony faces difficulties in their lives.”

Sunray suddenly stopped walking, turned his head towards me, and grabbed my shoulders with his hooves.

“Sometimes these difficulties are very hard to overcome, but we have to overcome them. Only then will we become our true selves, stronger than we were before.”

“But I gave up,” I said. “I gave up trying to find the meaning of my cutie mark, trying to overcome my burden.”

Sunray pondered for a minute. “Yes, yes you did. But that doesn’t matter, because more often than not, we need other ponies to help us overcome these obstacles. We need friends; everypony needs friends. And, if you want, Sweet Tooth, we can find the meaning of your cutie mark together.”

I felt tears sting in my eyes. “That means a lot to me, Sunray.”

“Good,” Sunray said, letting go of me and walking forwards. “Then we shall begin immediately.”

I caught up with him and took his hoof, pondering over his words.

The forest was smaller than I thought. Ten minutes later, we could already see Celestia’s sun filtering through the roof of needles. Once again, the ground became rocky, and trees had a harder time finding places to put their roots. Very soon I knew there would be lovely viewpoints from which we could enjoy the little valleys. The path began to climb upwards, becoming progressively steeper. But Sunray walked onwards undaunted. Surely he must have felt the path climbing. What did he want to do? Scale the mountain together?

“Sunray, maybe we should head back,” I said. “This path seems a little steep.”

Sunray whistled. “Pha! You can go back if you want, then I’ll go on alone.”

“That… might not be such a good—“

An enormous rumble filled the air, as if lightning bolts struck mere meters away. Sunray’s knees buckled, and he fell down. I caught him just in time, placing him carefully on the ground. The rumbling was followed by a distant whooshing sound, sounding almost as if a whole Wonderbolt squadron of Rainbow Dashies was practicing aerial stunts in the distance.

“What’s happening?” Sunray said. He didn’t even sound scared; he just sounded surprised.

I turned my head towards the sound.

“An avalanche!”

Sunray’s hollow eyes went wide. “Oh! Describe it for me, quickly!”

Of course he would want that. I looked at the distant mountainside, from which the snow was falling down. Here we go… “It’s such a magnificent, majestic sight, yet also frightening. It looks as if the mountain is pulling off a jacket made of snow, letting it fall down on its feet. The puffy snow rolls down the slopes of the mountain like moving clouds, becoming bigger and bigger. It is the raw, unyielding force of nature, to which nothing that ponykind has ever made can compare. Not even the most gorgeous of castles in Canterlot, because this is pure, raw power and strength, and there is nothing more impressive than that.”

And everything I said, I meant. I had never before seen an avalanche, although I had read about them in Daring Do and the Frozen Kingdom. Yet my description was completely different from the one in the book, for my description was a unique product of my mind, fueled by an impressive eye-witness account of an actual avalanche. It was beautiful.

I looked up to the left, where the mountain we were walking on continued to rise until it reached its rocky peaks. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be in the mountains anymore, for the avalanche had laid bare a sliver of fear in my heart. Luckily, Sunray shared my thoughts.

“Maybe we should go, Sweet Tooth. I am… eh… feeling cold.”

I snickered. “It doesn’t take an extraordinary sense of hearing to figure out that you’re afraid.”

Sunray turned around, shaking his head. “I’m not afraid, I’m cold. And besides, I think I’ve heard enough.”

I took his hoof and walked back down the sloping path. Apparently, Sunray had heard enough descriptions from me. Perhaps he became bored by my voice, or maybe the words I chose weren’t exciting enough. My ears drooped down as I drew my conclusion: I had bored Sunray to death.

I decided that I wanted some conversation, if only to chase away the bubbling negative feelings. “Hey, Sunray?”

“Yes?”

I looked at his cutie mark for a moment: a shining sun, casting its light in diagonal beams over his flank. “Why did your parents name you ‘Sunray?’”

“What, because I couldn’t even see the sun?” Sunray chuckled. “They named me Sunray because I was as great a gift as the light and warmth of the sun to them. Even though they knew that I would never see, they loved me so much. They cared for me with joy in their hearts, and I guess they had taught me to care for others as well.”

“What a beautiful story,” I said, feeling a pang of jealousy. You really were a product of your surroundings and the norms and values your family imposed on you. But if that was true, then why is my family one of winners, of rich ponies with a booming business, while I failed whatever I tried?

“You are special, Sweet Tooth,” Sunray said, completely out of the blue.

I made a small jump. That caught me off-guard. Had Sunray read my mind? “Why do you say that?”

“Because you are.” Sunray let go of my hoof and put his on my shoulder. “The way you described your family, there isn’t an ounce of compassion and love inside them. They probably hated you, giving you a boring job like that.”

I nodded shallowly.

“And that is why you’re special. You defy them by not becoming like them. You are nice and kind and creative and smart; everything they are not. You defy them by not being at home, not being their slave, and being with me. Those parents of yours? They have probably never made a friend as you did, and I reckon they will never make one. I bet the closest things to ‘friends’ they have are business relations. Cold, calculated business relations, who like smiling towards each other but wishing each other to be broke in their minds. Competition they call it. No, Sweet Tooth, you’re nothing like them, you’re special.”

Once again, I felt tears dripping down to the ground. :EN-US'>
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