//------------------------------// // First Stop: Distant Silhouette // Story: Journey: North // by AppleTank //------------------------------// Pure whiteness reflected the meager light from above. A massively thick cloud layer shed flakes of snow eternally in heavy silence. In the distance, a flickering yellow glow valiantly attempted to pierce the darkness. A black shape formed behind the tide of snow it punched through. Then the massive cylinder of the locomotive peeled the snow back momentarily when it bounced on its rails. Its superheated white blood leaked from frostbitten cracks. Clouds of insulation stubbornly clung the train’s body where it hadn’t shattered and been left behind hundreds of miles away. Sparks shrieked as the train’s wheels somehow found the rails again, wobbling, then continued on its journey. Its furious chugs from a throttle left wide open struggling against a massive weight echoed momentarily in its wake, then was soon smothered by Winter’s grip. After a few minutes, its path was indistinguishable from the dunes that spanned in every direction. The pony hissed as she shoveled another clump of coal into the boiler hole thing. Even with the door open, even while wearing a ridiculous amount of winter gear, she could still feel the chill beneath her hooves. Tendrils of frost grew, then melted, then grew again. She bit back a curse as the train shuddered underneath her hooves. Chunks of snow had been compacted hard enough to briefly shake the train as it pushed through, worsening the stability of a train already struggling to push through a meter and a half of snow. She glanced the dials in front of her with worried eyes, the one for pressure already in the redline. Despite it, the train was going nowhere near its max speed of eighty ... whatever that unit was. Now it was barely past fifty. The rest of the other dials bounced and wiggled, meaningless to her. “Come on, faster,” she whispered fervently. She glanced outside in frustration. She wanted so badly to go out and fly herself, but she knew that even her own resistance would do nothing more than delay death by fullbody frostbite by minutes. With a resigned sigh repeated countless times she dumped more coal into the fingers of flame, pushing back the spider-legs of frost that threatened her cabin once more. The pressure needle wiggled in a vaguely upwards direction. She leaned on her shovel as the featureless wasteland blurred past. There was a sudden deceleration. She lurched on her hooves, her eyes flashing across the dials. The speed dial dropped below thirty. The pressure dial shot through the redline--! Superheated steam punched rivets-- Flames and shearing metal-- A desperate leap through shattering glass-- A fist of air punched hard into her chest, sending her ragdolling across the dunes of snow. She finally bounced to a stop, smashing into the side of a frozen tree. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, taking several deep breaths before she could lever herself up on an elbow. She squinted at the burning wreck. The cabin was burning, and the coal cart behind it was starting to catch the flames. She grumbled unhappily at her ride being destroyed, and glanced at it one more time, seeing lines of frost spreading--! She dove into the snow bank as the rest of the train blew up, spreading shrapnel everywhere. After the ringing in her ears was gone, she carefully poked her head out. The only components left of the train were the wheels and the part of the coal cart. The rest was scattered across the snow, smoldering, freezing. So was the distant wave of freezing rain. “Wait, what!?” The pony squeaked when the snowfront got closer. She dashed across the snow until she came across a crystalline shard jutting out of the snowdrifts. She ducked behind it and began hastily digging out a hole. When it was big enough to fit her, she rolled in, then covered in the entrance with more snow. “Ah, just in time -- ack!” She flinched as the wall behind her shuddered, and she quickly pushed more snow onto it. The light from overhead faded dark, and the howls began to start. She sighed. “Waiting. The least awesomest part,” she said unhappily, and curled up to preserve her warmth. Six hours later, the landscape was scoured flat and clear. A weak sun peeked through the cloud cover. Only shards of frostbitten metal revealed where the train once rested. A red glow pulsed underneath one of the hundreds of snow drifts. Snow hissed, sank and caved in. The pony popped her head out gasping for air. A jagged crack in the lens of her goggles pestered her eye. She rubbed it gently, feeling the minute bump from where it shifted. It would have to hold. She swept her gaze around, and for a brief flash, saw the afterimage of a lost brick road. She lifted her scarf to rub at a golden chest plate buried within, and the red glow died. She followed the memory of that path. In the distance, a piercing glow in the mountains pulsed to her hoofsteps.