To be the last of something is much like being the first. Loneliness sets in after a while. Eventually, that loneliness will subside for both the last and the first. The first will have its loneliness crushed by the second, the third, the fourth, and so on. The last, however, will have its loneliness follow it until the last is no more.
It had not been a while, not yet, for the last of the remnants of kin. Loneliness would come. It would have its day to burden the mare, soaking her face and draining her soul.
Only ice and snow were meant to coat the mare's thoughts for now, that and the shape of stones that fit into a particular shelter.
There had been ruins of the era long ago not far from the home of the remnants of kin, but they had proved to be as useful as water to a fire. The mare, traveling in the direction of the rising sun, had known of another, far more taboo, set of stone structures of the lost era. The eldest had spoken terrors of the unseen that had destroyed the autochthon's dwellings. Nightmares that roamed the earth with numbers that could rival the leaves on all the trees of the land. They had caused much loneliness for those ancient ponies, just as they did for the mare.
Those forbidden, decaying hovels would provide comfort for the mare, but only if she could find the ruins.
It had seemed far closer during the seasons of rain and sun when the sky was only dark to nourish the greens. Now, bogged by snow and ice, the sun-bleached stones seemed like a lifetime away. Every few steps became halted by the sounds of crackling snow bouncing between hills and knolls. And every few steps, the mare was forced to hoist her saddlebag back up her spine.
There hadn't been enough time to gather all that she had needed, and their weight would have been customarily divided among two or three others. For the mare who was the last of the remnants of kin, she was forced to suffer the burden alone. Once she would find shelter, the lade would be lifted, and a new pain would surface. The ache of grieving, the ache of loneliness. So now, wandering her way through the timbered tundra, she would take the physical strain. Her mind remained focused on moving forward, though her heart begged to argue.
All the effort she had made was for pushing forward. Nothing else was allowed. Loneliness would come later.