//------------------------------//
// Interlude: Winter Pt. 3 
// Story: Luna Wants a Windigo 
// by Lazauya 
//------------------------------//

The colt sat awkwardly in the train car, constantly looking around for the stop at the Crystal Empire. He knew that it would be obvious when they got there, but he still couldn't be cautious enough. The inside of the car was lit well, and the only audible noises were the occasional cough of an old stallion reading a newspaper, and the monotonous drone of the wheels touching the rails.

Astatine couldn't help himself. He would glance at the only other passenger, wondering what his story was. What could he be visiting the Crystal Empire for? What was he doing so late at night on the train?

But it made him question his own story. What was Astatine himself doing? Should I have listened to her? Is this what I want?

And then, he remembered the face of the mare that he hated and the face of the mare who hated him. Does Ms. Joy really hate me? I... I don't see how she couldn't. I asked so much of her. But she said that she cared about me. But I guess that's her job, isn't it? To say that she cares. Maybe the only one... is her....

The stallion on the other side of the car sat his paper down. He breathed a sigh of complacency, probably at the boring state of the world.

Astatine went back to peeking at the stallion.





The train came to a halt. The conductor announced the stop, "The Crystal Empire," as everyone erroneously called it. Even Astatine wondered how just a single city could be considered an empire. History, he assumed. 

The colt exited the car, standing on the platform, gazing off into the void of the night. The storm that had once raged on eternally around the shining beacon of the crystal city was subdued. It seemed that the wind was not as strong, and the moon pierced through the clouds ever so often. 

Astatine waited. No one was allowed to see him leave. He knew this. What windigo had told him was not as clear as words; rather, it felt to him like he had spontaneously remembered the instructions of a complex plan. Something in him told him what he needed to do, and where he should go. And he knew this was the windigo's way of telling him what she thought he needed to do, even though she could not express herself by other means.

When the moment was right, when no one was looking, he slipped by. He leapt between the train cars, across the tracks, and into the night. And with him, a small blue windigo went.





The freezing wind ate at the colt, and yet, even with his bones chilled, he felt a sense of ease. It felt like all those times the windigo had barged into his room, demanding attention. There, in the wastelands of the frozen north, he felt at home.

But homeliness did nothing to cure his hunger. He had not eaten anything since his departure nearly three days earlier in Canterlot, and he was starting to feel it. But he would carry on. 





Another four days passed. The colt swore he could feel his blood curdling in his veins, and yet somehow he felt like he belonged where he was. But, still, it did nothing to quell his hunger. He felt like he was dying, and that only some strange magic was keeping him alive. He couldn't tell exactly why, but he knew he was under a hex. No pony could survive being that cold, he knew. What is keeping me alive? Why am not cold...? he asked himself over and over again. 

Finally, his hunger got the better of him. He collapsed in the snow, and the windigo rushed over to him. She could see the ice hanging off of him and his black veins bulging out of his face, but she thought nothing of that. Instead, she touched his forehead to find out the issue. When she found out what it was, she was shook. She had no clue what "edible" meant to a pony. How could she fill his stomach?

An idea immediately  struck her. It was stupid by any measure, but she did not know that. In excitement, she placed her hoof on the colt's forehead again. 

With his last remaining burst of energy, he shot up. "No!" he shouted.

The windigo could sense his unease. In her usual fashion, she refused to take no for an answer.

So she stuck her hoof in his mouth.

The colt was startled and jumped back. "I said no! I'm not eating you!"

But again, the windigo refused. She knew the colt was almost out of energy. It was simply a war of attrition, which he could not win. She jumped on the colt, making him fall back in the snow. He struggled some more, but the windigo managed to firmly plant her hoof in his mouth. His teeth graded on her delicate flesh, already causing abrasions. And yet he still tried to spit it out.

The windigo put her other front hoof on the colt's forehead. He reacted by struggling some more, muffled screams heard behind the windigo's hoof.

Eventually the colt stopped struggling, a frozen tear lining his eye. The windigo took her other hoof and placed it under the colt's jaw. With one strong push, she made him bite through her left hoof. She felt a twinge pain, but she also felt satisfaction that she could return the food he had given her.

As for the colt, a taste like no other erupted in his mouth. His vision went blurry for a moment as the windigo's astral blood filled his mouth. No other experience, good nor bad, had prepared him for that moment. He felt like the inside of his mouth was burning with fire and ecstasy.

The sensation didn't subside, either. All he could do was bask in it's evil divinity, eyes wide open. The windigo placed her whole hoof on the colt's forehead yet again, trying to inform him to swallow. Unfortunately, she didn't know a way to make him do that other than to ask.

The colt was stunned for yet another moment, but was slowly brought back to reality and managed to down the substance. At that moment, though, he was greeted with an oddly warm sensation falling down his esophagus. The warmth built up, until he could actually feel the heat radiating out from his stomach. For a while, it kept pulsating, the ebb and flow heating his entire body. But instead of feeling hot, he felt a new more intense feeling of zen, as if he was not truly warm before.

He stood up and stared at the astral creature. "You... did this for me? All this?" he asked the windigo curling her severed hoof. "Why? You hurt yourself for me?! I don't get it!"

The windigo looked happy; not amused nor simply complacent like before, but genuinely happy.

"Why...? Aren't you supposed to...?" he trailed off in thought. Something, he realized, was peculiar about that windigo.  "I understand... I understand that before... the reason you came to me was because I had so much hate and sadness. You used me... as food...."

He paused.

"And that's why... you gave your hoof to me. Because... you wanted to repay me for what I had given you...? Al-also, will I die? I mean, that's magic stuff," he shook his head, "Whatever. It doesn't matter. This warmth. It's not magic. It's my happiness, right? I'm... I'm so happy, that you gave me your... hoof....

"Gah! Why is this so weird?! Why is everything so weird now?!" 

The colt meditated some more, before speaking up again, "So is that it? Now that I'm happy, I guess you will leave, right? I'm no longer suitable food... because I like you."

The colt stared at the windigo, and the windigo stared back. It looked as though her blood had frozen by now. He had no clue if this was a bad thing or a good thing, but she didn't look to be panicking or in pain.

After some more time staring, the windigo floated over to him, and placed her hoof on his forehead, though she shivered a bit when she did so. Still, that strange feeling wasn't enough to deter her.

The colt was surprised when the windigo told him nothing different than before. She told him the location of the windigo caves, just as before. 

And with little thought on the windigo's part, they again continued on their journey.