//------------------------------// // Snowbound // Story: Ice Iris // by Albi //------------------------------// Zephyr paced in front of the bedroom door, his face scrunching and unscrunching at every about-face. To Sunset’s surprise, there had been no shouting from him whatsoever; of course, that could have been out of courtesy for her sleeping mother. He ushered them out the room and proceeded to pace. “What if I went, and you two… stayed here and took care of your mother?” His tone wavered, a sure sign he knew his daughters wouldn’t agree to that. Sure enough, as he looked up at their resolute faces, he heaved a submissive sigh. “I just don’t like the idea of sending my girls out to someplace so dangerous.” “Dad, relax,” Spitfire said. “We’ve done dangerous things plenty of times before.” “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or advertently send you into harm’s way.” Sunset let a few sparks fly from her horn. “We’ll watch each other’s backs the entire time. My magic and her wings? We’ll be back before you know it.” Zephyr ran a hoof against his beard and closed his eyes. “You’re both adults. Technically, I can’t stop you.” His eyes opened and he looked at them with the plea of a desperate father. “Just be careful. Flower or no flower, come back to me.” “We will,” Sunset said firmly. “Just keep Mom… until then.” The absence of the word hurt more than if Sunset had spoke it aloud. “If we hurry, we can catch the evening train out to the Crystal Empire,” Spitfire said. “The sooner we leave, the better.” She gave their father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be back by Hearth’s Warming Eve. Count on it.” Four days, not counting the time it would take to get to the Crystal Mountains. Sunset admired Spitfire’s drive, but it would take more than that to pull off this holiday miracle. They broke off to their rooms, Sunset grabbing a saddle bag and packing it with any quick essentials she could think to bring. She rummaged through her bookcase, finding an atlas of the Crystal Mountain region. It was dated by about fifteen years, but it was better than nothing; if they wanted to catch the train, they couldn’t afford a trip to the library. She cantered downstairs and filled her bag with packets of dried oats and a loaf of bread. So much for enjoying home cooked meals. She met Spitfire by the front door and wrapped her red scarf tight around her neck. “Ready?” Spitfire adjusted the goggles atop her head and slung on a scarf to match Sunset’s. “Ready.” Zephyr saw them out the house, kissing both his daughters on the forehead before they walked into the chilly evening. “Be careful,” he stressed. “If anything goes wrong, just come home.” Sunset tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong and just nodded her head. ****** The neighborhood had fallen silent, asleep under the dim sky and a blanket of snow. Hoofprints of colts and fillies could still be seen weaving through the streets. Thousands of tiny lights popped to life across the rooftops and shone like illuminated gemstones. Neither sister spoke on their trip back to the train station. Sunset’s ears would twitch whenever they caught wind of distant laughter or singing. Then the silence would return, reviving the tension that had dogged them since they left the house. Somepony had dried the station platform off, for Sunset didn’t have to cast another traction spell to keep from sliding about. A hoof-full of ponies milled about, dressed in winter cloaks and carrying bags of gifts beside them. Spitfire planted herself right in front of the yellow warning line, fluffing her feathers every few seconds; Sunset wanted to say something, but knew how hypocritical it would be if she told Spitfire not to worry. The seed of uncertainty had already sprouted, and its vines coiled around Sunset’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She had pulled off miracles before, but none of them had ever been so personal. None of them had such a merciless time limit with a measurable fatality if they failed. One life. Their mother’s life. Sunset took in a gulp of frigid air to stop the vines from stretching further, then took another as she reached out and put a hoof on Spitfire’s back, making her jump. “Try to relax, Spits. We can do this.” Cliché though it sounded, it was the best Sunset could think of that didn’t sound preachy or patronizing. “I know we can do this,” Spitfire said with her usual confidence. Her wings fidgeted again. “I hope we can do this…” “We can. We just have to do what we do best.” Spitfire tilted her head. “Fight and argue until one of us snaps and does something she’ll regret?” It took a second for Sunset to pick up the dry humor in her sister’s voice; she punched Spitfire on the shoulder. “Be awesome. With all the things we’ve both accomplished, this should be a piece of cake.” Saying the words aloud gave Sunset a spark of confidence that ignited the vines and allowed her a little breathing room. Spitfire looked down the track. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “you’re right. We got this.” Sunset had hoped for a more confident answer, but a loud whistle blew before she could press one out of Spitfire. The train rolled out of the mountain tunnel and pulled into the station, a cloud of steam billowing from its smokestack. The sisters boarded, finding it sparse with passengers; they took the back compartment and had it all to themselves. As the train descended the mountain before heading north, the setting sun broke through the clouds, its light against the snow-covered world blinding to Sunset. Her eyes sighed in relief when the train entered the tunnel. Spitfire made herself comfortable on the bench. “So, tell me something about the other world. Something that doesn’t involve monsters or magic. What’s it like?” Sunset settled in across from her, going through her slow ritual of trying to find a comfortable sitting position in her old body. She settled on her stomach and tucked her legs beneath herself, but knew it wouldn’t last long. “Well, it has a lot in common with this world. And I mean more than just having parallel versions of everyone here. They have similar holidays and traditions, place a high value on friendship, that kind of thing. But they don’t have any magic. At least they didn’t until—” She caught herself and cleared her throat. “Until recently. They rely a lot more on science and math and have come up with some crazy inventions.” “Like those ‘car’ things you wrote about?” “Yeah. And then, they have things called ‘airplanes.’ They’re like airships, only made of metal and you can’t move around as much.” “Pfft, that sounds boring.” Sunset fidgeted her shoulders. “I’ve never been on one. But the coolest thing they have in that world is the internet!” “In-ter-net?” Spitfire asked, enunciating each syllable. For the next twenty minutes, Sunset explained with as much detail as she could the technological marvels of the computer and the internet, sitting up and gesturing with her hooves. Spitfire bobbed her head along in interest and astoundment. “So, this thing’s like a magic encyclopedia that can tell you anything?” “Yeah, that’s one way to describe it. But, a lot of people just use it to post videos about themselves or their cats.” “Why?” “Humans are weird.” The train snaked down the mountainside, weaving its way in and out of tunnels until it leveled out on the snow-covered plains and headed north. They traded stories while watching the winter wonderland rush by, frost creeping across the windows until the outside world resembled nothing more than a blurry blue photo. Sunset chronicled Spitfire of the more mundane things she and her friends got into, while Spitfire told her of Wonderbolt life, including Rainbow’s first official stunt show. “That sounds like a disaster,” Sunset said when her sister got to the part about the cotton candy. Spitfire threw her head back and laughed. “It was! And it was all over a dumb nickname! I can’t believe it bugged her that much and she didn’t say anything. In hindsight, it’s hilarious, but believe me, I was mad when it was going down.” Sunset changed positions for the fourth time during their conversation, hanging her front legs over the seat. “Rainbow Crash isn’t even that bad. I’ve called you way worse things than that.” “That’s what I told her.” Some of the mirth left her eyes, and her shoulders fell. “I mean, tradition is tradition, but I guess we should have made it more clear it was all in good fun. She could have also told us that was a childhood trauma for her.” “Rainbow isn’t one to share feelings voluntarily,” Sunset said with a nostalgic smile. “In any world.” The transition from evening to night was hardly noticeable, told only by the compartment lanterns turning on. Sunset put her horn to the window and applied a simple heat spell, melting the frost off the other side. Outside, shadows of evergreen trees flickered by the windows, their details lost in the night. They were already near Vanhoover. Sunset stifled a yawn. It felt nice to just talk with Spitfire without a journal between them; even before their schism, it wasn’t something they did frequently. The simple act of talking kept the anxiety at bay, yet in its place, Sunset felt a twisted sense of guilt. How dare she be laughing while her mother was dying! She was on a mission! But if she didn’t laugh, if she didn’t try to carry on like they weren’t on borrowed time, she would freeze up and cry. They had to relax just a little bit. There was no sense in fretting now when they were at the mercy of the train’s speed. “So, should we be dumb and head out to the mountains tonight?” Spitfire asked, following Sunset’s gaze out the window. “Or wait until morning?” Sunset’s breath fogged up the glass, and she traced her hoof in it. “The irrational part of me wants to say, ‘let’s just go for it!’ But we should at least wait until we can actually see where we’re going.” “Fair enough. Sooo, did you bring enough money for a hotel?” “You’re the Wonderbolt. Shouldn’t you be loaded?” “Normally, you’d be right. But my bit pouch wasn’t the first thing I thought of when packing for the Crystal Mountains.” “And I just came back from another dimension. Yeah, I’m swimming in bits.” Spitfire leaned back into her chair and crossed her hooves. “Then I guess we’re roughing it. In the snow.” Sunset pulled her face away from the window. “Not necessarily. The Crystal Heart keeps the snow out of the empire all year round. We’ll have something green to sleep on tonight. Better enjoy it while it lasts.” The train pulled into the station an hour later, steam hissing as it came to a final stop. Stepping outside, Sunset felt not the bitter bite of winter, but a refreshing, brisk springtime breeze. The sky overhead was clear, and a crescent moon smiled down on them. Instead of heading toward the glittering spire and the crystal-hewn buildings like everypony else, Sunset and Spitfire headed south, crossing the green pastures that bordered the city. When they crested the hill before the two crystal towers that marked the edge of the Crystal Heart’s forcefield, Sunset stopped and dropped her saddlebags. “Get cozy,” she said, pulling out two bed rolls and blankets. She closed her eyes and saw the teal glow from her horn from behind her eyelids. A warm bubble expanded at the tip, then detached itself with a small pop. Sunset looked upon her handiwork, a blue orb of fire floating between her and Spitfire. “A fire bubble,” she said, seeing Spitfire’s curious eyes. “A substitute if you don’t have a real fire.” Spitfire raised a hoof to it. “Not as warm as a real fire.” “That’s why it’s a substitute.” Sunset spread her bed roll out and collapsed onto it. This wasn’t how she’d expected her first day home to end. Decorating the tree, baking gingerbread ponies, a snowball fight in the backyard. Stargazing on a bed of grass on their way to find a rare flower was low on her list of ways her vacation could go. Her eyes picked out the constellations native to Equestria, like the Bell of Tambelon, and the Star Swirl, named after the great wizard himself. Spitfire crawled under her blanket and settled on her stomach, watching the mote of fire bob up and down like it was riding a gentle wave. “So, what else can you tell me about this flower?” Sunset drew from her studies of rare Equestrian flora. “It only grows in a place called Frost Valley, which is in the eastern part of the mountain range. Like I said before, they aren’t the most common thing to find. It’s winter though, so there should be some in bloom. But they’re white, and they barely raise their petals above the ground, making them a chore to find.” “Of course,” Spitfire said dryly. “Because why would anything be easy for us?” She rested her head and closed her eyes. “Well, get some sleep. We’re moving out at first light.” “Yeah.” Sunset laid flat on her stomach, spreading her legs in all directions. Good enough. She watched her ball of fire drift around in a hypnotic fashion. The mesmerizing blue light lured her into a slumbering embrace. Guess asking for an easy holiday was a little too much. ****** Spitfire tucked the end of the ribbon into the folds of the tree, then flew back to admire her handiwork: golden bulbs and silver bells, ribbons and pearls, hoof-made ornaments crafted by Spitfire herself, a pair of wings made of clay, a ring of multicolored beads, and a Wonderbolts insignia painted orange and gold. “Spitfire, you did such a good job!” Dawn gushed, putting her last ornament on. “Look how pretty our tree looks!” “Twee!” Sunset said with a happy giggle. From her place in front of the couch, she reached her tiny hooves for the shiny baubles near the top. “Twee!” Zephyr came and scooped her up, bouncing her up and down as she squealed with laughter. “You wanna put the star on the top this year, Sunny?” “Hey!” Spitfire pressed a hoof to her chest. “I always put the star on the tree!” Dawn took a red-and-silver box out from amidst the other decoration cases. “You have to learn to share, Spitfire,” she said patiently. “You put the star on last year. Sunset gets to put it on this year.” Spitfire huffed and crossed her hooves. “She’s gonna break it.” “Have a little faith in your baby sister.” Dawn pulled out the golden six-pointed star from the box and brought it over to Sunset. “Okay, sweetie. Hold onto it very tight and put it on top of the tree.” “Star!” Sunset took it in her hooves, then immediately put her mouth on one of the tips. Spitfire rolled her eyes in an condescending fashion. Zephyr flew Sunset up to the tip of the tree and gently pulled the star from her mouth. “Go on, Sunny, put the star on.” Sunset looked from the star to the tree with wide-eyed curiosity. Blue sparks fizzled and popped from her horn, and a light glow enveloped the star. It wobbled just out of Sunset’s grasp, then shot up toward the ceiling, bounced toward the wall, then hit the ground, breaking into two even pieces. Sunset clapped her hooves and burbled in delight. “See?” Spitfire picked up the two halves. “I told you she’d break it!” Dawn floated over and took one of the pieces. “It’s still usable,” she said with a hesitant smile. “It just needs some glue.” She took the other half and hurried to the kitchen, leaving Spitfire to release an irritated sigh. Last year the holiday had been ruined by Sunset waking up in the middle of the night on Hearth’s Warming Eve and crying nonstop for hours. This year, she had broken their star! Adding to it, Spitfire was sure her present count had shrunk ever since Sunset had come. ‘You have to share’ and ‘be nice to your baby sister’ were phrases Spitfire heard a lot now. She was already sharing her parents, what more did they want? She crossed her hooves and huffed again, wishing it could just be the three of them like before. ****** Morning’s first light broke over the hills and forced Sunset to bury her face into the grass. Five more minutes, Mom. Mom! Her head snapped up, and she found Spitfire stretching her wings and neck out. “Oh darn,” she said, pausing to yawn. “I was hoping to use the bucket.” “You’re hilarious.” Sunset stood and rolled her neck out. With a flick of her horn, the mats rolled up and placed themselves in the saddlebags. “Okay, I’m pretty sure those shouldn’t be able to fit in there.” Sunset set the bags on her back. “Spatial compression spell. It’s sort of like a pocket dimension.” She rummaged inside it and pulled out a bag of chips from the human world. “I forgot I had these.” Spitfire took to the air. “Come on, let’s get started.” She flew toward the blue barrier separating them from the harsh winter. Scarf secure around her neck, Sunset moved up to the wall and ran a hoof through it. The forcefield felt like warm water. Bracing herself for the dramatic shift in temperature, Sunset pressed through, stepping ankle-deep into snow. The wind stung her face and filled her eyes with flurries. She forced them open and gazed upon the white-capped mountain range rising up before her, a row of teeth chomping at the steely sky. While not a full-on a blizzard, snow swirled around them, relentless in its assault. The wind hissed past her ears and numbed them. With a sharp exhale, Sunset saw her breath float away in a great warm cloud. Spitfire didn’t fare much better, though she at least had her goggles to protect her eyes. “I knew it was going to be cold,” she said, creating a stream of steam, “but I didn’t know it would be this flippin’ cold!” She beat her wings harder, inadvertently kicking up more snow. “We’re in northern Equestria. Don’t know what else you were expecting.” Sunset charged her horn and closed her eyes in concentration. While her magic welled up at her command, remembering and using spells she hadn’t practiced in years was a different matter; the swirling cold certainly didn’t help matters. Sparks and crackles came from her horn as she pieced the spell together. The area around her warmed up to an acceptable temperature, and the wind stop hitting her face. She opened her eyes and saw the world tinted through a teal bubble. Spitfire, hovering just inside its perimeter, stuck her hoof out, then quickly retracted it. “What fancy magic is this?” “A temperature controlled field. Just think of it like that bubble I made earlier, except bigger. It should keep us warm for a while, at least until I get too tired to maintain it.” Standing in place, the snow within the forcefield started to melt. Spitfire smirked. “Not gonna lie, this is pretty cool. Think you could make it a little bigger though? I’m flying close to the ground.” Sunset pushed ahead, bringing the barrier with her. “No. You can either walk with me, or fly as high as you want out in the cold.” Spitfire grumbled something as she landed next to Sunset and started walking. They made for the base of the mountains, the wind and snow erasing the hoofprints they left behind.