Part 2
“Of course, nopony knew it at the time,” Tannenbaum related. “We were all in tents and huts outside, doing our best to ignore each other. The leaders were alone in the cave, that seemed fair. But then we felt this... it was the most incredible warmth.”
His hooves waved about excitedly as he spoke—at least, as much as they were able while still clutching the blanket around his shoulders. The swallow was perched on the tip of his hood, trying its best to remain balanced as Tannenbaum moved about.
Tannenbaum was seated on the edge of the stone pit in the middle of the longhouse. The tower of stones in the center shimmered with heat, radiating outward to warm the four ponies around it. Occasionally, while Tannenbaum paused for breath, one of the others would pour a ladle of water over the stones, resulting in a soft hiss and puff of steam. Maize did so now, and Tannenbaum paused his gesticulations to hold his hooves over the steam.
“It hit—well, it hit me, at least, like a wave,” Tannenbaum continued. “I’m sure it must have felt the same to the rest of the ponies—I could see it on their faces. It was as if, all of a sudden, we just... forgot about the cold, and the hunger, and the loss. As if, for a moment, everything was alright.”
He laughed and rubbed his face. “I felt like I had to see what had happened, so I went up to the cave... and there they were. The six leaders, side by side, hoof in hoof. And that was when I knew... that everything would be alright.
“After that, everypony managed to band together. There were still some ponies who refused to get along at first, of course, but eventually they relented. And when the summer came, we started building again. It’s almost a whole city now, on the outskirts of the forest we used for wood. We call it Everfree.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Maize said. “I can only imagine what it must have been like, forcing all three tribes to come together. Even in circumstances like that, it must have been a miracle all on it’s own.”
“Imagine, nothing,” Squall said, leaning in and holding his wingtips up to the heat. “He’ll have plenty of time to tell us the whole story.”
Weeks had passed since they had pulled Tannenbaum out of the blizzard, and the storm still showed no signs of letting up. Snow piled up along the Longhouse, reaching up to the windows, and barring all but the main door. Even then, that too would have been sealed shut had it not been for Squall’s constant vigilance in keeping it cleared.
Even on the rare occasions snow was not falling, bitter winds whipped it up and made it seem to be falling all over again. The cold was desperate, and intense, and none of them dared step outside for longer than necessary.
Borealis rubbed his eyes. He had been working himself ragged, scrying hour after hour. His horn glimmered briefly, adding more heat to the stones. “It took everything we had to keep everypony from each other’s throats long enough to build the Longhouses,” he added.
“Oh, no,” Tannenbaum said, as though he were taken aback by the very idea of it. “There was no miracle about it. Well, not of everypony banding together at least. Once the leaders agreed to work together, everything sort of fell into place. It seemed that everypony just... wanted to believe it could work.” He tucked the blanket tighter around his shoulders and tugged down the hood of his coat. “Maybe whatever happened in the cave had a hoof over it, but I believe that everypony was just looking an excuse to stop the fighting.”
“Sounds like a miracle to me,” Maize said. “It’s been almost three years since the break, and it seems like everything is business-as-usual, here. Ponies calling us Mud on one side of their face and begging for food on the other.”
“Oh, yes,” Borealis sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, we should all be terribly thankful the Earth Ponies have deigned not to let us starve to death. And not out of the goodness of their hearts, either—you know very well you need us to keep you alive just as well.”
“Excuse me?” Maize laughed. “This, from--” she began, but Tannenbaum interrupted her.
“Maize, Borealis, please,” he said. “You all managed to come together and make The Gate, didn’t you? You must have worked together to build these longhouses, surely that’s something to be proud of together?” He gestured to the building around them, and said, “It’s a beautiful building.”
“Well, for various definitions of together,” Borealis said.
“We all did our part,” Maize said, giving Tannenbaum a nod.
“Yes,” Borealis said, “But we did them individually. The Pegasi took down the trees, and the Unicorns put them together, and the Earth Ponies…” He waved a hoof vaguely.
“We moved the logs and treated the soil,” Maize said. She peered hard at him. “We needed those trees back, or your would have felt the wind. Not to mention the months it took me to cultivate a plot to grow the Aloe Vera plant that helped your colts burns last year.
Borealis began to object, but paused. “That was you?” he asked.
“Of course,” Maize said. “The rest of the healer’s went south. They needed to follow the ponies who needed them.
Borealis nodded slowly. “And you remember my foal?”
“I make it a point to,” Maize said. “But yours was easy. He was very brave.”
A smile flickered across Borealis’s face. “He is,” he agreed. “He has my talent for Scrying, as well. The colt could easily take over for his Old Man in the watchouse, some day.” He swelled with pride for a moment, but soon deflated. “If there’s any point to it by then, I suppose.”
“There will be,” Squall said simply. “Long as the winters are this bad, even if nopony else comes down we’ll need your magic to find ponies lost out in storms, or in accidents.”
“There, you see?” Tannenbaum said. “You have so much to be proud of together--and you’re building it all yourselves. This an incredible settlement for just a few short years!”
Tannenbaum paused for a moment. “Actually,” he said with a laugh, “now that I’ve said it out loud, I suppose I don’t know—Here, it’s been almost a month and I haven’t seen any of it outside this building!”
Squall smirked, and even managed a chuckle. “Probably wouldn’t call it incredible if you could,” he said. “Our little home ain’t anything special. There’s not much here but this, and three other Longhouses. And this is the largest of the four.”
“There’s maybe a hundred ponies here,” Borealis said. “There used to be more, but most of them continued south.”
“Really?” Tannenbaum asked. “What for?”
The three ponies stared at Tannenbaum for a moment. A gust of wind howled through the cracks in the shutters, punctuating their point.
“Oh,” Tannenbaum laughed. “Yes, of course. I suppose that does make sense. But then, I suppose the question is why the rest of you stayed? Squall, I know you were telling me just the other night you were an Outpost Watchpony back in the old Crystal Empire?”
“Mmm,” Squall confirmed. “This is just life, for me. Can’t speak for the rest.”
Maize and Borealis looked at one another and shrugged.
“We settled here in the summer,” Maize explained. “We didn’t realize at the time how harsh the winters were. By the time we realized, we’d already made our home. Most of us just decided to brave it instead of being uprooted again, and so soon.”
“Besides,” Borealis said, “Somepony had to be here for stragglers from the Crystal Empire. A hoofful of them managed to make it south during the first winter. Most only had the clothing on their backs—if that. They needed somepony to help pick them up so they can make the journey further south.”
Tannenbaum nodded. “Do any still come through?” he asked.
“You’re the first we’ve seen in months,” Borealis replied. “Even so, somepony needs to keep watch. You never know when the last ponies will come.”
Tannenbaum nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I saw a few ponies left while I was travelling... very few indeed. There’s hardly a sign that the old Empire was still there...” For a moment, just a moment, he looked lost, adrift. Then his smile returned. “Still! You’re right. We have to hope for the best, for those who remain, right?” He looked at each of his hosts in turn. “And here—you all believe in it, and you’re all helping, however you can. Isn’t that something you can connect with? You’re not so different after all.”
Maize laughed wryly. “More or less,” she said. “But it would be nice if what we did was more even. Our food and the Pegasi’s weather-keeping helps everypony, but the Unicorns are just here to guide their own.”
“You can tell yourself that while you’re freezing to death, if you care so little for us,” Borealis said. He tossed a splash of water onto the tower of stones, punctuating his statement with the hiss of steam. “Or did you think those rocks heated up on their own?”
“We’re all very grateful you’ve saved us the trouble of having to build a fire,” Squall grunted at him. “Frankly, if it weren’t for the storm I’d rather we used to fire, to free you up for something more worthwhile—if I thought you would actually do it. Least this way, you can’t get away with shirking.”
Borealis bristled. “You’re one to talk about shirking!” he said as he rounded on Squall. “Who is it that’s leaving this storm to bury us all?”
“I’ve already told you, pinhead, this storm is Magic!” Squall said, leaping to his hooves. Borealis leaped up to meet him, but Squall continued before the unicorn could get a word in. “Maybe you should be putting that magic you’re so proud of to work finding a solution, you’re so damned determined to lord it over all of us.”
“And meanwhile,” Maize said, “the Earth Pony is left to do the real work, as usual, while you two bicker about who gets to wear the fanciest hat.”
Both stallion turned on Maize. “Real work?” Squall demanded. “What, exactly, have you done here?”
“I haven’t seen you lift a hoof to help around the Longhouse the whole while we’ve been here,” Borealis added.
“So you think your food just shows up in your bowl? Anyways, I’ve kept a sick stallion alive, is what,” Maize shot back. “Either of which is more than either of you can claim.” She threw up her hooves. “Just like always, we do the work and you penny-and-dime us on how much we deserve for the privilege of having done it!”
“We used to have a system, in the Empire,” Borealis said, jabbing a hoof at her. “Before you Pegasi and Earth Ponies ruined it by focusing on what you could get out of it instead of how to help us all.”
“Yeah, great system, back when you were in charge,” Squall snorted.
“I’m sure we’d all be happier going back to playing Unicorn Slave,” Maize added icily. “No wonder you haven’t noticed what I’ve been doing around here. I’ll tell you what the real miracle is, and that’s that you can see anything with your head shoved so far up your own--”
“Enough!” Tannenbaum roared, jumping to his hooves.
The fighting stopped immediately. All three ponies froze, staring at Tannenbaum. Tannenbaum looked at them each in turn, then sighed, and lowered himself back down.
“I’m... sorry,” he said. “I’m tired. That story took more out of me than I thought. I’d like to sleep now, please.”
“Of... of course, dear,” Maize said. She jumped out of the pit, helping Tannenbaum up and out of it. “Do you need anything?” she asked.
Tannenbaum shook his head. “Just quiet,” he said. “So I can rest.”
“Of course,” Maize said. She walked him back to the beds, where she eased him down and settled the blanket over him. “Rest well, Tannenbaum.”
Tannenbaum smiled faintly, but did not answer. After a moment he drifted to sleep, and his smile faded as well. With a low sigh Maize straightened up and turned back to Squall and Borealis. The two were still bickering, albeit in hushed tones.
“--least you could do is help keep things clear in here,” Borealis muttered as Maize approached.
“It’s all I can do to keep things clear off the main door,” Squall replied. “We’re going to need to get out eventually.”
“Enough,” Maize hissed. “Tannenbaum is sleeping, so let’s keep the squabbling to a minimum. Anyways, instead of fighting over what we haven’t done, it’d be better for all of us to focus on what we can do.” She turned to Borealis. “Have you been able to find the settlement?”
The unicorn sighed and shook his head. “Whatever magic is keeping Squall and the pegasi from clearing out the storm is keeping me from scrying through it.” He rubbed his forehead. “It’s like... my magic is bouncing off of the snowflakes. It’s like looking in a broken mirror. The best I’ve managed is to get a general direction.” If it were possible, he took on an even more sullen expression. “I can tell you what lake the water the snowflakes are made of comes from, though,” he said.
“Direction won’t be enough,” Squall grunted. “It’s a whiteout. If I get blown off course—and I will—I could miss it by miles.”
“Well, I’m sorry I can’t do the impossible,” Borealis snapped. “But it’s comforting to know that even if I could, you’d still be as useful as tossing a doll into the gale. How do you expect to even get the message there, if you expect to be blown off course?”
“Because,” Squall growled slowly, as if he were explaining to a child, “I’ll be able to readjust to the right course if I know where I’m going. I just need more specific directions than ‘that way-ish’.”
“Well, I need more to work with than the five feet around the Longhouse,” Borealis replied. “If you want more information, then pull your weight! You can’t clear the storm, fine, but can’t you at least open the area around the Longhouse so I can get a better view?”
“Great idea!” Squall said. “While we’re at it, why don’t you just scry harder and see through the snow?”
Borealis snarled and readied a response, but Maize stepped between the two stallions.
“Enough!” she snapped. “I won’t have you two waking up Tannenbaum. He still needs his rest.” She looked at Borealis, then Squall. “Look,” she said. “I’m as worried about all of this as you are—and don’t give me a line about the Earth Ponies being safe. You’re right, Borealis: you might be a stuck-up twit, but I’m not going to let the Unicorns or Pegasi just starve to death.”
“How gracious of you,” Borealis muttered, but Maize ignored him and carried on.
“But fighting isn’t going to get us anywhere. Is there any way you can scry through the snow?”
“No,” Borealis said. “But... if I focus, I might be able to put all the pieces together into a clearer image. Having more open room to work with would help, though.”
Maize nodded and turned to Squall. “Anything you can do about that?” she asked.
Squall grumbled and scratched his chin. “I can get... maybe ten, fifteen feet in the general direction of the other Longhouses,” he said. “But it’s going to take a lot, and I can’t keep it up all the time.”
“It’s something, at least,” Borealis said.
“Alright,” Maize said. She nodded to them both. “Just don’t kill yourselves.”
“Not unless we can save the rest of the Pegasi and Unicorns,” Squall replied with a grunt. “I’ll work in shifts—hour on, hour off. Can keep that for maybe a week, with good rest.”
“Likewise,” Borealis said. “After that...”
Maize looked down and hummed. “After that,” she said, “it may not matter. Depending on how much they’re eating... the provisions in their Longhouses will last them four, maybe five more days.”
Her words hung in the air, casting a gloom over the already pallor Longhouse.
“I’ll get to work,” Squall said, turning on his hoof.
“Yes,” Borealis agreed.
Both stallions retreated to their sides of the Longhouse to make good on their promises. Squall went out into the storm whenever he could manage, for as long as he could manage, to keep the Longhouse clear. Though he beat his wings with all of his might, and put everything we was into it, there were scant meters of calm air surrounding the Longhouse.
Borealis scried near-constantly, hoarding what scraps of information he could gleam like a miser, in the hopes of somehow piecing them together into a greater whole. Although he wracked his mind, the pieces he needed eluded him, leaving the visions with more hole than image.
The storm, for its part, raged. With each passing hour it seemed to grow even more intense, as though spiting Squall’s attempts to calm it. The winds howled louder, the snow fell heavier, and the cold grew so intense even the shelter of the Longhouse did not protect them completely.
As the hours stretched into days each of them began to believe, in their most secret of thoughts, that the storm seemed alive, and malicious. No matter what they tried, no matter how they strained, the storm only grew worse and matched them step for step with a brutal, unfeeling ferocity.
Still they fought. Borealis and Squall poured themselves into their work, putting every last ounce of energy into the effort. It had begun to show on their faces, drawing deep lines of exhaustion and fear for all the world to see. Including Tannenbaum.
They were gathered around the central stone pit once again, as far away from the cold as they could manage. Squall and Borealis had allowed themselves a rare break for a meal, which Maize was ladling out.
Tannenbaum accepted his bowl with a nod, and looked between Squall and Borealis. Both were silent as they ate, staring into the middle distance. After several minutes of the silence, Tannenbaum cleared his throat.
“I may be wrong,” he said, “But if I were to guess, I would say that this village is about as far south as Equestria. The winters in Equestria only last two or three months. Would you say it’s about the same here?”
There was an almost audible return of attention, as both Squall and Borealis realized that he was speaking to them. “Ah,” Borealis said, rubbing his eyes. “Yes, I—well, more like three or four months.”
“Five, depending on how you count it,” Squall grunted.
In spite of barely being able to keep his eyes open, Borealis managed to squint at Squall. “What, you mean wrongly?”
Squall grunted again. For a moment he looked as though he were unsure about whether or not he should respond to Borealis. His expression quickly darkened, however, and he asked, “What’s that mean?”
“How, precisely, can you count the seasons differently?” Borealis asked. “They’re the seasons.”
“You’re the expert on weather, now?” Squall said. “Maybe you can do something about it then.”
Borealis tutted and rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s the problem then,” he said. “Winter has nothing to do with the weather. It’s astronomical and magical—to do with the position of the planet and the sun, and what the environment needs.”
“So,” Squall replied around a mouthful of stew, “what you’re telling me is: Winter is when it’s cold. The weather.”
“That’s a very simplistic way of viewing it,” Borealis said.
“Simpleton explained it,” Squall retorted, shrugging.
“Personally,” Tannenbaum cut in, “I’ve always measured it by the coming and going of migratory birds. It is, after all, their instincts...”
Borealis ignored him. “Only a Pegasus could mistake an education for being simple,” he said. Then he smirked. “Then again, I’m not surprised. As Tannenbaum said: You’ve got the same idea as a stupid bird.”
“Well, most birds are actually quite intelligent--” Tannenbaum began, over the angry squawking of his swallow, before Squall cut him off.
“Damned sight more intelligent than a stuffed-up Unicorn,” Squall grunted, jabbing a hoof at Borealis. “Even you must have something more useful to do than whining about the definition of a season.”
“I could say the same for you,” Borealis retorted. “At least I’m keeping the rocks warm.”
“With a head full of hot air!” Squall said.
“Enough, colts!” Maize said, slamming her hoof down. “If you two have to fight, at the very least don’t do it over dinner.”
“You’re one to talk!” Borealis snapped. “Whatever good he might be doing, at least Squall is trying to help!”
“Oh, are we back to claiming I’m doing nothing?” Maize asked.
“No, we aren’t,” Tannenbaum insisted. “Maize, you’ve been very helpful—I’d be dead for certain if it wasn’t for you. For all of you.”
The three carried on, ignorant of Tannenbaum’s interjection. “You don’t like it, maybe try not doing nothing,” Squall said. He rubbed his neck. “We both been working ourselves ragged, doing every gods-damned thing we can think of to solve this problem, while you’ve been sitting on your backside playing nurse!”
“I’m not playing a damned thing!” Maize shouted. “Tannenbaum’s condition needed help to stabilize, much less improve! If I hadn’t been paying attention to him then he could have slipped back, or died.”
“Congratulations,” Squall growled. “Saved one stallion, and killed the rest of The Gate to do it.”
“Except, of course, the Earth Ponies,” Borealis added. His face, like his tone, was as dark and dangerous as the storm outside the Longhouse.
Maize ground her teeth. “One time,” she said. “One time, I bring up that Earth Ponies provide the food, and you treat me like I’m a murderer. It’s not as if you never brought up the weather, or the Sun and Moon. But one time we try to push back--”
“Hold on!” Tannenbaum shouted. He pushed his way to the centre of the stone pit. “Now just, hold on! What’s all this about?”
“It’s about respect!” Maize said. “It’s about Earth Ponies finally being appreciated for what we do, instead of treated like two-bit labourers for somepony else’s benefit!”
“No,” Tanennbaum shouted, with enough ferocity to knock Maize out of her rage. There was a sudden hardness in his eyes. “You said, there was a problem.” He turned his gaze to Borealis and Squall. Both of them winced away from it. “You said, ponies would die. What’s going on!?”
Borealis and Squall looked at one another, then at Maize. “Surely,” Borealis said, “you did... tell him?”
“There was never...” Maize said, waving her hooves vaguely. “I don’t know, I didn’t want to worry him with it! I expected you would have it fixed by now!”
“Have what fixed?” Tannenbaum demanded. “What is happening?”
An awkward silence hung in the air. Even this close to the hot stones, the air seemed cold. Eventually, Tannenbaum’s expression softened once again. “Please,” he said. “I want to help.”
Maize sighed. “It’s the storm,” she said. “The Longhouses where the rest of the ponies live have maybe a few days of food left. And unless they can communicate, or we can communicate with them, then they have no way of restocking in this storm.”
“What?” Tannenbaum asked. “That’s—you said there were almost a hundred ponies here! Why haven’t you done something?”
“We’ve tried,” Borealis said. “I’ve spent days trying to pick them out of the storm so we can make the trip back without getting lost.”
“Been doing all we can,” Squall said. “We all been working—even Maize—to work something out--”
“No you haven’t!” Tannenbaum shouted. The three ponies jumped back as one. Tannenbaum grit his teeth and continued. “You’ve been on opposite ends of the Longhouse the entire time I’ve been here! If you ever came together, it was to bicker like children!
“Did you ever even stop to think what you could have done, if you had been working together?” Tannenbaum demanded. He began to circle the inside of the put, pacing as he raved. “Of course you didn’t! Because each of you is so convinced that the others are useless! If you had ever thought, ever tried, maybe you could have done something! At the very least, you could have found another solution than sitting in your corners and brooding!”
“Tannenbaum, it isn’t their fault,” Maize said.
“Yes, it is!” Tannenbaum shouted. “It’s all of your faults!” He rubbed his head. “None of you have problems getting along with me,” he said. “Because you don’t know what tribe I am! And you don’t care! But the moment you see wings, or a horn, or neither, then suddenly nothing they say can be reasonable, or right.
“And I’ve listened to it for weeks,” he said. “For weeks, I’ve listened to you argue, and insult each other, and do your best to play yourselves up, convince yourselves that you’re the only one who matters. But I tried, so hard, to make you understand. I wanted so badly for you all to be able to feel what I felt. I wanted The Gate to have what Equestria has.”
All at once, his anger seemed to drain away. When it was gone, he looked empty, as though it had been all that was keeping him running. He looked desperately tired, moreso even than Squall or Borealis. “I hoped... but I was wrong. You’re all selfish, and petty... and now there are ponies dying because you can’t even imagine that the others could help.”
Tannenbaum breathed deep. “Well, fine,” he said. “If this is what you want to be for the rest of your lives—if you want The Gate to die like the Empire did, then fine. But I won’t.”
He leaped out of the pit, tossing the blanket from around his shoulders as he did.
“Tannenbaum, wait!” Maize said, but Tannenbaum ignored her.
Maize, Squall and Borealis moved as one as Tannenbaum bolted for the door. They jumped out of the pit and chased after him.
“Borealis!” Squall shouted. “Grab him!”
Borealis’s horn glimmered briefly, but flickered out. Exhaustion had taken its toll on him. He shook his head and panted. His brow screwed up with concentration, and once again his horn began to glow, but it was too late.
Tannenbaum reached the door, hauling it open with all his might. A great, howling burst of wind blew in. Maize, who was closest to the door, was knocked flat but the power of the gust, but Tannenbaum managed to keep his hooves.
“Tannenbaum!” Squall shouted. “You can’t go out in that! The cold will kill you!”
It was too late. Tannenbaum struggled for a moment, then through himself out into the storm. He disappeared into the whiteout in moments.
Squall swore violently and bolted after him. He made it two steps out the door before another gust of wind blew in, knocking him sprawling onto the steps. He struggled to rise, but he couldn’t find purchase on the ice and snow. In mere moment snow began to pile on him, making it all the harder to find his hooves.
The grip of magic enveloped Squall, and Borealis dragged him back inside the Longhouse and clear of the door. The wind roared and howled, but the three ponies were in shelter, for now.
Maize panted heavily, dragging herself to her hooves. “Tannenbaum!” she said. “He hasn’t completely healed yet, he won’t last ten minutes out there! We have to do something!”
“Do what?” Squall asked. “You saw what happened when I tried to fly out there, the wind is too strong. Even if it wasn’t, how are we gonna find him in all that?”
“Actually,” Borealis said. “I might be able to...” His expression became distant, and his horn began to glow. The glow intensified, and his face slowly morphed into a look of profound concentration. He held it for only a few moments, but he still gasped for breath when he finally broke it. “Yes—yes!” he said. “I can make out a trail! It’s already faint, but I think I can find my way to him. But...”
“But what?” Maize asked.
“It takes focus,” Borealis said. “I’m sorry—I’m exhausted, I can barely scry at all anymore. I can find him, but I can’t get to him.”
“Squall?” Maize asked.
Squall shook his head. “The wind is too strong for me. I can keep it at bay, but that’s it. Not strong enough to move through it.”
“That... that’ll be enough,” Maize said. The stallions stared up at her as she rose and set her shoulders. “If you can get the wind down, I can make it through the snow. If you can point me to Tannenbaum, I can get to him.”
“Are you sure?” Borealis asked.
“There’s no time to be sure,” Maize replied. She grabbed him, and hauled him onto her back. “We’ll just have to try.”
Borealis opened his mouth to object to being mare-handled, but hesitated. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it. Squall?”
The pegasi was already on it. On more solid ground, he finally managed to force his way to his hooves, and trotted back into the wind. He tottered unsteadily for a moment under the force of the gale, but eventually found his footing. He unfurled his wings and, with all of his might, he beat them.
All at once, the howling stopped. Snowflakes hug in the air as though suspended in glass. There was silence, and there was stillness. For just a moment, the whole world seemed frozen.
Squall staggered. Maize moved fast, propping herself against him to keep him upright. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “We need to go.” He took off, beating his wings again. Further outside the door, more wind slowed.
“Alright,” Maize said. “Borealis, where do I go?”
“Straight ahead, 20 meters,” Borealis said. “Then... 30 degrees left.”
Maize nodded, and pushed out into the storm.
Even with Squall’s help the wind was still buffeting. It roared all around them and cut through fur and flesh, slicing straight to the bone. It whipped at their faces and hides until they were numb, and yet even when they were the cold persisted. It froze their bones into bitter, fragile things that threatened to shatter with each and every step. They seemed to walk for hours, until their breath came in ragged gasps and spurts and their limbs trembled with exhaustion.
Still they pushed forward. Borealis competed against the wind, shouting commands until his throat was raw. He had no way of knowing if they were heard, or followed. His eyes were frozen shut by the cold, but he couldn’t have looked even if they weren’t. He grappled with his own magic, tearing apart his visions for any hint of Tannenbaum’s trail.
Still they pushed forward. The wind was picking up as they walked. Squall was struggling against it, a losing battle. Ice had begun to form on his wings and in his coat. It weighed him down, threatening to drag him to earth. Even in the cold his wings burned. He fought with all his might, knowing that if he stopped for even a moment, the storm would overtake them.
Still they pushed forward. Maize wheezed as she shoved herself through the chest-deep drifts. It took everything she had to keep moving. She was certain that, if she looked down, she would see her own blood on the snow. So she didn’t. She stared dead ahead, following Borealis’ instructions, searching for Tannenbaum as hard as she could manage. All she needed was one small sign, a single glimpse of his coat.
In desperation she called out to him. “Tannenbaum!” she screamed. “Where are you!?”
Only her echo responded. She took a deep breath and prepared to shout again, but paused. She had heard her echo, not the wind. She realized that she could no longer feel it, and though she could hear it, it was only distantly.
“Must be the eye of the storm,” Squall said. He landed shakily beside Maize.
“I thought there was no storm in the eye?” Maize asked. “It’s still snowing pretty hard.”
“Blizzards don’t have very strong eyes like other storms,” Squall replied. He stretched his wings, popping and settling the joints. “This is close to ‘out of the storm’ as we’re gonna get.”
“We’re close, at least,” Borealis panted. “I can feel him nearby.” He groaned softly and rubbed his eyes. “He’s... just twenty feet, now. Northeast.”
Maize nodded. With renewed vigour she ploughed ahead through the snow. She pushed so hard, in fact, that she almost stumbled over him.
He was half-buried in the snow. Only the tip of his nose and a ragged scrap of cloak were still visible.
“Tannenbaum!” Maize cried. She hauled him out of the snow pressed her ear to his chest. To her relief, his heart was still beating. She breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s alive.”
“Thank the gods,” Squall said. “Can we get him back to the Longhouse?”
No. You Cannot.
It was not a voice, exactly. It sounded as though the howling of the wind had, by some coincidence, formed words. The three ponies looked up, but could not find the source of the words.
Leave him be. He belongs to me, now.
“Who’s there?” Squall demanded. “Get out here!”
There is no need. You will go, and leave him for me. He is already lost.
“No he isn’t!” Maize said. “Tannenbaum is our friend, we’re not just going to abandon him out here, not while he’s still alive!”
It does not matter. He has fallen to despair. I have waited. Now he is mine.
“There!” Borealis said, pointing out into the storm. Maize and Squall followed his gesture, and finally saw the source of the voice. Thought the storm two enormous, gleaming blue eyes were visible.
I have followed him from the west, through the north, and now here. I have felt his hope ebb away, piece by piece. Now, finally, I can taste his despair. I can taste all of your despair. Now, finally, I will feed. He will be mine.
The eyes came closer, and the silhouette of an enormous creature became visible. It looked like a foals drawing of a vulture, jagged in places and bulbous in others, as though it were half-covered in ice. It dwarfed the ponies, standing easily twice, even three times their size. Although it did not fly, it moved with a ghostly grace.
Maize froze where she stood. Squall raised his wings, wrapping them defensively around the group. Borealis, however, rolled himself off of Maize’s back and landed heavily in the snow.
“No,” he said. “Tannenbaum is... too good a stallion to leave to the likes of some... worthless carrion.” He struggled to his hooves and demanded, “You want to eat? Fine. Take me instead. I’m on my last legs anyways. So take me, and leave The Gate!”
The beast stopped it’s approach and unfurled its wings.
No! I have come for the stallion you call Tannenbaum, and I will have him. Leave, now! Abandon him to the storm!
“Never,” Squall said, stepping forward. “Tannenbaum is a fine stallion. This place needs somepony like him a damned sight more than it needs another crotchety old pegasus. Take me, instead!”
The beast beat its wings furiously. The wind howled and screamed.
Enough! I am not here to negotiate with the simple and the callow! Give me the stallion this instant, or my storm will freeze you where you stand!
Maize stood up and looked to the others. They nodded in turn. There was no need to speak. There was nothing to say. She took their hooves, and turned back to the beast.
“Fine,” she said. “We’ve made our choice. We’re not abandoning Tannenbaum. You can go ahead and freeze me, but Tannenbaum stays here.”
The monster screeched and beat its wings. All at once the storm whipped up, turning the air around the three ponies into a terrible, frozen maelstrom. Wing and ice lashed at their skin and snow stung their faces. They drew each other in, and Tannenbaum, huddling close for warmth.
Warmth. The very idea of not being cold seemed like a cruel joke. Even huddled together, there was barely enough to feel. And yet, in spite of the biting cold and the lashing winds, they smiled. Each, in their own private way, was content. If they died, at least it would be among friends.
“Squall,” Maize cried over the din, “Borealis! I’m sorry for not doing more to help you in the Longhouse!”
Borealis laughed. “You did your part!” he said. “I’m sorry I was always such a prig to you both!”
“Prig nothing!” Squall said. “We gave you a hard enough time that we earned it. Did for you both! You deserved better than me!”
If it were possible, Maize pulled him closer. “Never!” she said.
“Never!” echoed Borealis.
Squall chuckled darkly. “Fine, then,” he said. “Never!”
They held each other close, and waited for the end. The storm grew more furious with each moment, until the snow pelted and stung their skin and the winds threatened to rip them apart. It was deafening, blinding and numbing. It was death itself.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the storm stopped.
Squall blinked, and looked up. Borealis followed suit a moment later, and Maize. The wind had ceased completely, and only a lazy snowfall remained. Soon, even that began to thin, and the air became clear.
Squall looked up, searching for the buzzard. It was nowhere to be seen. “What... happened?” he asked. “Are we dead?”
“We’d know if we were dead,” Borealis suggested. “I mean... I think we would.
“Tannenbaum!” Maize shouted suddenly. “Did it get Tannenbaum!?”
The three ponies parted, revealing the limp form of their friend. To their amazement, he was grinning.
“N...o,” Tannenbaum breathed. “Still... here. Thanks to y...ou.” He beamed up at them. “All of...”
He slipped away again, sagging into Maize’s arms.
“Tannenbaum!” She shouted. “Stay with me!” She held him close, rubbing his face and neck to keep him warm. “We need to get him back inside, fast!”
Squall and Borealis leaped up as one stallion and began to search. It was not long before Squall called out to them.
“There!” He said. “Another Longhouse! It’s the unicorns’!”
While he returned to Maize and helped her lift Tannenbaum out of the snow, Borealis surged ahead. With the perfect union of terrified energy and mad glee he shoved the snow off the front of the Longhouse and hammered on the door.
“Help!” he cried. “We need help out here!”
***
Tannenbaum woke slowly. So slowly, in fact, that he wasn’t certain he was awake at all. In the place between sleeping and wakefulness, he had heard a commotion that drew his attention and slowly dragged him awake. When he did eventually reach wakefulness, he realized the cause of his confusion: there were too many ponies.
Tannenbaum groaned and tried to pull himself up to his elbows. However, a hoof on his chest gently pushed him back into the bed. “Honestly, Tannenbaum,” a familiar voice said. “You need to learn how to actually stay in bed when you’re sick.”
Tannenbaum blinked at the bleariness in his eyes until he could finally make out the speaker. “Maize?” he asked. “Where am I?”
Borealis approached from the side. A pair of colts dangled from his mane, giggling incessantly. “You’re in the unicorn Longhouse,” he answered. “And allow me to be the first to welcome you to my home. I’m glad to see you up and about. Relatively speaking.”
“The unicorn...” Tannenbaum said, finally glancing around. The building was much like the communal Longhouse, if somewhat smaller. The main difference was the sheer volume of ponies, filling every available surface. The majority of them were packed in the center of the Longhouse, seated along a wooden table that spanned the length of the building. Judging from the smells, the table was packed with food.
Tannenbaum laughed and fell back onto the bed. “We made it?” he asked.
“We did,” Maize said. “With the storm gone, the Unicorns managed to clear a path to the other Longhouses, and we were able to get enough food for everypony.”
“Thank gods,” Tannenbaum said.
“Thank yourself,” Squall corrected. He, too, had a colt on his back, though Tannenbaum was surprised to see it was a pegasus colt. “If it weren’t for you charging headlong into the storm, we’d’ve never found our way to it. The Gate owes you one. Not much we can do to repay you, but we’ll do whatever we can.”
“That’s... very kind of you,” Tannenbaum said. “But I don’t believe I did that much. In fact I… fear I may have been responsible for all this in the first place.” He sank back in tothe bed, as though shying away from a strike, and hung his head.
“What do you mean?” Maize asked. Her brow furrowed, but there was no anger in it as Tannenbaum had worried. “Do you know something about that monster?”
“Yes,” Tannenbaum admitted. “It was a Blizzard Buzzard. They create storms to disorient isolated ponies, and make them lose hope. They feed on despair, you see. Sometimes they follow Windigoes, hoping to pick up the ponies who get missed.” he shook his head. “I knew there was a chance they would be there, and this one must have followed me down.”
“But why?” Borealis asked. “If they want despair, why you? You must be one of the most stubbornly hopeful ponies I’ve ever known.”
“I tried,” Tannenbaum said. “I did my best. But I searched the Frozen North for months looking for any survivors, and found nothing. I cross the entire northern passage, and came south again… I had wanted so desperately to share the Hearth’s Warming, and I had begun to give up hope of ever finding anypony to share it with.”
“And then you found us,” Squall concluded, “Bickering like it was our jobs.” He chuckled softly. “Don’t suppose we can blame you for losing hope in us.”
“Maybe,” Tannenbaum said. “But I was clearly wrong to do so. When I saw the three of you working together, so save me--a perfect stranger--suddenly…” He said nothing. He simply smiled, a smile as warm as any fireplace in any home. The others could not help but smile along with him. “And, am I mistaken in believing that even the other tribes are here with us?”
“No, you’re right,” Maize said. “The Earth Ponies had to bring over the food, and the Pegasi needed to help clear the paths, and nopony really wanted to wait, and, well...” she coughed and gestured out into the hall.
All at once, Tannenbaum realized that the din had subsided. Every face in the Longhouse was turned to him. Some were joyous, some were expectant, and others still were cautious. But in each and every face, of every tribe and every age, there was a glimmer of awe, and of hope.
“We might have spread the tale a bit while you were asleep,” Borealis said gently. “Everypony is a bit excited to meet the hero of The Gate.”
Tannenbaum laughed awkwardly and tugged his hood down. His rich brown cheeks took on a tinge of red. “You’ve all done the real work,” he said. “You’re the ones who rescued me, and made sure everypony was fed, and brought everypony together. I should be thanking you--all of you.”
“Maybe,” Maize replied. “But we could only do it because you believed in us. And because we believed in you.” She patted his shoulder. “Now, we could argue back and forth about who’s the bigger hero for hours, or we can skip ahead to the first Hearth’s Warming feast.”
Tannenbaum looked like he would object again, for just a moment. Then, he laughed. “Alright,” he said. “Alright. I think… if that Buzzard came back, I could eat it!”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Maize said. With the help of Squall and Borealis--whose foals managed to reluctantly unhinge themselves from their fathers--she gently lifted him out of bed and led him to the table. His cloak was still wrapped tight around him, for warmth, and a mug of steaming cider was pressed into his hooves.
“Well, Tannenbaum?” Borealis asked. “You’re the Hearth’s Warming expert. Would you care to lead us in toast?”
Tannenbaum looked down at the mug in his hooves. He smiled, and the smile widened into a grin. “To hope,” he declared, “and to friends.”
A great clamour of approval rolled through the longhouse, backed by the thumping of mugs agains mugs and hooves against table, as Pegasi, Unicorns and Earth Ponies alike celebrated the end of the storm. Amid the din Maize, Borealis and Squall circled around Tannenbaum and followed suit. As one, they echoed:
“To friends.”
***
Peeler folded his hooves over his belly and settled back into his chair. “An’ there ya ‘ave it,” he said simply.
Diamond Tiara reeled forward slightly, as though a stool had just been pulled out from under her forelegs. “Wha-huh?” she asked. “Wait--that’s it?”
Pip laughed. “Told ya you’d get into the story,” he teased, giving her a nudge.
“Y-yeah,” Diamond said. She peered at him, then away, as she sank back into the couch. “That’s—yeah. That’s what it was.” After a moment she shook her head, and said, “But--I expected more. I mean, you didn’t say anything about sticking presents in ponies socks, or anything.
“Actually, I’m a bit confused about that as well,” Tealove said. “It was a beautiful story, but…” she shrugged.
Peeler’s face screwed up in concentration, and his moustache waggled from side to side. “Hum,” he said. “You know, you’re right. Pip, did I miss summat?”
“No, Papa,” Pip said. “The story’s always been like that, remember?”
“Well, course I did!” Peeler replied. “Was just… testin’, of course.”
“It’s ‘cause the presents aren’t just presents,” Pip explained. He tucked his forelegs up beneath himself, recounting the final leg of the story by rote, just as Peeler had--and likely, just as Peeler’s father had, when he was a colt. “They’re reminders. Uncle Tannenbaum came to Furheim in a cloak, and what he was, was a mystery. The ponies of The Gate hoped he’d be just for them, an’ in the end, he made them all happier. The presents remind us to hope!”
“For cool stuff,” Diamond Tiara said. In spite of her cynicism, however, she was smiling.
“Well, any tradition’s gonna get watered down,” Peeler admitted. “That’s what we got the whole story to tell, for.”
Pip turned to Diamond Tiara and beamed. “Y’see?” he said. “It was a good Hearth’s Warmin’ story after all!”
Diamond Tiara’s expression was distant, and her smile had faded slightly. Not enough to disappear, but just enough to notice. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess so.” After a moment she snapped back to the living room, and her smile came alive again. “I think it gave me a cavity, so I guess that’s definitely a Hearth’s Warming story.” She tucked her hooves up against her chest and asked, “You got any other cool Trottingham stories?”
Peeler opened his mouth to reply, but before he could there was a sharp, urgent rapping on the door.
Diamond Tiara’s smiled dropped in an instant. “Like, the entire history of Trottingham?” she asked. “In detail?”
Peeler chortled as he hauled himself out of his armchair. “That’ll ‘ave to wait for some other time, I suppose,” he said. He crossed the room and opened the door, declaring, “Evenin’ sir—oop! Beg pardon, evenin’ folks.”
“It certainly is,” Filthy Rich replied. “And a cold one, at that.”
“I’ll say so,” Peeler said. “Can feel ‘er from ‘ere. Why don’t you folks come in? I can put on some tea, help you warm up before you head out again?”
“That sounds quite nice,” Filthy Rich replied as he stepped inside. “Though I don’t know that we’ll be staying long.”
Diamond Tiara groaned and sank lower on the sofa, as though she were trying to sink inside it and disappear. “Great,” she grumbled.
Filthy Rich moved aside as his wife, Spoiled Rich pushed in after him. She gave a quick glance around the room and, without even bothering to wipe the snow off her hooves, bolted over to Diamond Tiara.
“Diamond Tiara!” she cried. “There you are! I’ve been worried sick!”
“Hi, mom,” Diamond Tiara said. She greeted her mother with all the enthusiasm with which most foals greet brussel sprouts. Whether Spoiled Rich did not recognize her tone, or simply chose to ignore it, Pip wasn’t sure. Whichever it was, she carried on just the same.
“What were you thinking!?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea how cold it is out there? You could have frozen to death!”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Diamond Tiara said. She wasn’t even bothering to look at her mother. Instead, she was staring numbly ahead, at the portrait of Tannenbaum.
“I should think not!” her mother said. “A fine pony would go around scaring their parents half to death by wandering around in the cold!”
“Um,” Pip said, coughing gently to catch Spoiled Rich’s attention. “She wasn’t actually outside. She’s been here with me an’ Papa an’ Miss Tealove all evenin’.”
“Yes,” Tealove confirmed, “for the past few hours.”
Spoiled Rich glanced down at Pip. For the first time in his life, he felt offended by an expression. “Oh,” she said. “You’re the Trottingham colt.”
“He’s the one who offered to let me come here,” Diamond Tiara said. Some edge returned to her voice as she did, but it was still duller than her usual. “He’s my...” she waved her hooves vaguely.
“Friend?” Pip offered.
Something flickered through Diamond’s expression that Pip didn’t quite recognize. Whatever it was, she sat up straighter and finally managed to look at her mother. “I would have come home sooner if he hadn’t,” she said.
“You should have come home right away anyways,” Spoiled Rich said. The concern that had initially filled her voice had begun to ebb away, replaced by a bite that reminded Pip of Tiara’s own, refined with age and experience. “Or at the very least called.”
Diamond Tiara searched for her words for a moment. Unable to find them, she eventually settled on a long, low sigh.
“Don’t give me that tone, young lady!” Spoiled Rich snapped. “It was unbelievably selfish of you to let us think you had just... run off! We had to call the police, and if Peeler hadn’t already known where you were, there would have been a search all over Ponyville! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Diamond Tiara sagged back down again. Pip watched her face. For a long moment she looked terribly exhausted, and beaten-down. Then, her hardness returned. Bit by bit, her expression turned once more to flint. “Well,” she said, “maybe you wouldn’t have thought I was trying to run away if you hadn’t given me a reason to.”
The words were like a slap to the face. Not just to Spoiled Rich, although her mouth was agape in shock, but to everypony. After a moment, Peeler coughed conspicuously. “I’ll, ah, get that tea then,” he said.
“I’ll help,” Tealove replied, slipping out of her seat. “Pip? Why don’t you... come pick out some biscuits?”
Pip stared at Diamond for a moment. Her face was hard, but if he looked at her just the right way, he thought he could see a crack; a chink in the armour. He reached out and squeezed her hoof before slipping down. He followed his Papa and Tealove into the hall, but stopped just around the corner. He waited a few moments, then peered back around.
“How... how could you say that?” Spoiled Rich demanded. “You—I—”
“Spoiled,” Filthy Rich cut in, putting a hoof on his wife’s shoulder, “I think we should give her a chance to say her side of things.”
“What?” Spoiled Rich asked. “Give her a chance!? To--what? Spit on us? After all we’ve done for her--”
“Was one of those things ever listening to her?” Filthy Rich asked. He shrugged. “Because I don’t think I have, before.” he turned to Diamond and said, “And I’m sorry for that. I haven’t been the father I should be. Please, dear. Say what you want to say.”
Diamond Tiara looked between her parents for a while. Eventually she said, “That’s all I really want. I just want you to listen.”
“Well?” Spoiled Rich asked. Her voice was like ice, but the pain in it was still clear. “Go on, then.”
“Not just right now,” Diamond Tiara said. “Not just this one time, but all the time. I want to be able to do things the way I want, instead of always the way you want.”
“Are just a little filly?” Diamond asked. “Don’t know what’s good for me? Need somepony to show me the way? Is that what your mother said when you were my age?”
“Don’t bring my mother into this!” Spoiled Rich demanded. “How do you even know about her?” She paused, then shot a glare at Filthy Rich.
“You’re... you’re so convinced that your way is the best way,” Diamond said, “so convinced that you’re right, that you’ve never even bothered to listen to me. You never even considered that I might not be a stupid little filly anymore. That maybe I can start making my own way.”
Diamond couldn’t seem to look at her mother. She looked at the walls, and the floor, and her hooves, and anywhere but her mother’s face. She wrapped her forelegs around herself. “Ever since I was little, you always pushed me to... act higher than my station. And that meant looking down on ponies who weren’t as rich as we were, or didn’t have the connections we did. I saw the way you treated ponies, and I did the same.
“And the crazy thing is, I used to think I was doing it to make you proud. But now I think I was just afraid of you getting mad at me if I didn’t do it. Because ever since I decided to stop, you’ve pushed harder and harder, and...” Diamond Tiara rubbed her eyes. “I’ve hated it. I’m so sick and tired of yelling and fighting all the time. I didn’t come home because I just... didn’t want to have to fight anymore.”
She rested her hooves on her knees while her parents took it in.
“I...” Spoiled Rich said, “I just wanted what was best for you.”
“And the thing is... I actually believe that.” Diamond Tiara gripped her knees tighter. “I believe you want what you think is best for me.”
She finally managed to look up, and meet her mother’s eye. “That’s why I forgive you. I didn’t, before, but now I… I get it, I guess.”
Spoiled Milk opened and closed her mouth several times. “I just... I know you’re a smart filly,” she said. “I know you could move up in the world if you’d only try harder!”
“To do what?” Diamond asked. “Put everypony down? Impress other awful ponies, by being just like them? I know you’ve just been trying to help. I know you think your way is the right way. But… I don’t think it is.” She breathed deep, and sank back into the couch.
Spoiled Rich reeled back like she had been struck. She was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, “Do you… think I’m an awful pony?”
“I don’t know,” Diamond said. “I just know I’ve hated fighting with you, and... I’ve been happier since I started trying to be nicer. Ponies actually like me.” She shrugged. “Look... even if it doesn’t work out for you, can you at least respect me enough that we don’t have to fight about it all the time?” She shook her head. “That’s all. I’m just tired of the fighting.”
Pip couldn’t see Spoiled Rich’s expression from where he stood, but he could see the quivering of her shoulders. Filthy Rich slowly slipped a hoof over them and leaned close to his wife. “Well,” he said. “That doesn’t sound like something a silly little filly would say, to me.”
Spoiled Rich sniffed quietly and shifted from hoof to hoof. “Yes… you’re right. I’m so sorry, Diamond. I didn’t realize it--I--was hurting you so much. I can… promise to try.”
Diamond Tiara smiled. “Thank you,” she said.
Pip beamed as well. He ducked back behind the corner—and ran straight into his Papa’s chest.
“Oop!” Peeler said, catching the colt with a hoof. “Steady there, lookout. Is it safe to go back in?” He carried a tray of mugs, with enough for Diamond’s parents as well. Tealove was right behind him with a tin of Hearth’s Warming cookies.
Pip beamed wider, if such a thing were possible. “I think so,” he said.
Peeler grinned and ruffled his hair before trotting back into the living room.
“There we are!” he declared, setting the tray down on the table beside his chair. “Nice tea for everypony, to calm the nerves.” He shot a winning smile at Filthy and Spoiled Rich. “Everypony doing alright in here?”
Spoiled Rich looked at her daughter. She reached out and slowly wrapped a hoof around Diamond Tiara’s shoulders, as though waiting for the filly to pull away. When she did not, Spoiled Rich smiled. “I believe so,” she said.
“This is too kind of you, Mr. Plod,” Filthy Rich said. “We don’t mean to impose on a family evening.”
“Oh, not at all!” Peeler said. “Diamond’s a friend of Pip’s, which makes ‘er good as family, y’ask me. ‘Sides, you should be warmin’ yourselves up a touch a’fore you head back out into that cold.” He brandished the tray of tea at them until each of the Rich’s took a mug.
“Even so,” Spoiled Rich said. “I don’t think we should be staying for too long. I know we’d all like to be getting home--” She stopped, and closed her eyes. When she re-opened them her expression was soft, and more than just a little embarrassed. She looked down at Diamond Tiara and said, “I’m sorry, dear. Are you ready to go?”
Diamond tiara laughed, and smiled up at her mother. “I wouldn’t mind finishing the tea first,” she said.
She sipped deeply from the mug, and sighed. Once more, as it had several times that evening, her gaze seemed to slip away. This time, however, instead of a frown, or a furrowing of her brow, she smiled. “Hey, Pip?” she asked.
Pip blinked over his own mug of tea. “Huh?” he asked.
Diamond Tiara trotted over to him. She stood awkwardly for a moment, then reached over and nudged his shoulder. “Thanks,” she said. “For, uh… inviting me over tonight. I liked the story.”
Pip blinked again. Then he grinned, and nudged her back. “Naw,” he said. “Thanks for comin’ over. And for givin’ it a chance. See you next year?”
Diamond Tiara’s smiled widened as well, until the two foals wore identical grins. “Yeah,” she said. “Next year. I’ll teach you how to eavesdrop without being obvious about it.”
Pip blushed crimson, but Diamond Tiara just laughed. She held up her mug in a silent toast, and Pip clinked his against it.