Butternut shivered and inched closer to the small fire. She stared into the coals, trying to imagine that she was sitting at home by the hearth, watching chestnuts roast on a flat stone. But the fantasy was quickly vaporized as a crude wooden bowl of brown stew was thrust at her face.
She looked up. “Rations.” Grunted the pegasi, before moving on to someone else.
She ate the stew slowly, trying to savor what little flavor there was. This time, she stared off at the horizon. The setting sun cast a dull red glow on the lower half of the sky, and she could see the jagged mountain peaks in the distance, like teeth in the mouth of some foul beast.
The Scar was roughly the halfway point of their journey, and also the most arduous part. They had struggled through the forests and hills for nearly a month. Each day she carried two barrels of wheat on a crude leather saddle. It was uncomfortable and bulky, and anyone who split their cargo was flogged. The pegasi who drove them were quick to anger, and each of them was in a foul mood about having to walk the entire way. There were rumors that the detail was some punishment for them, and Butternut could believe it.
She reached the bottom of the bowl, and kept licking at the wood until it was thoroughly clean. They were fed twice a day, and it was nothing like what they considered food. The stews and hay were supplemented by a crude flatbread that some of the earth ponies had been making in secret, but the whippings if one was to be caught with it made it almost not worth the trouble. Butternut was certain that the confiscated “contraband” went straight into the pegasi guard’s stomachs as soon as they were out of sight. They too were under strict orders to not touch the spoils from Storm’s Break and that only served to worsen their demeanor.
She wondered what she would find at The Scar. She had never been that far west before, but she had heard from those that did that the crossing was treacherous and cold. A traveler could expect to combat steep climbs, rockslides, and an incessant icy wind that could quickly take one’s ears and nose.
She strained to look south, where she knew that the straight mountain chain would branch out and form a circle where the Unicorns lived. She thought she might be able to see the magical wall she had learned about, but all there was in that direction was more trees and a few wispy clouds in the sky.
She supposed it was perhaps a good thing. She had been taught that the Unicorns were a dangerous race to be feared and that their magical powers could level entire armies. If it were not for dragon attacks on their strongholds they could have conquered the world. Now they hid behind that wall and she had never met one. She wondered if perhaps the rumors were wrong, and they might actually be friendly.
“Fires out! Get in your bags!” Came the gruff command, and Butternut bitterly muttered that she would prefer the unicorns over the situation they were in now. She unrolled the roughly-sewn sleeping bag they all carried along with their supply cargo and kicked dirt over the fire, struggling to break the frost layer on the ground. She squirmed to try and get warm in it’s absence, focusing on staying still to stop the shivering. She turned over on her back to watch her breath rise, looking at the brilliant sky, speckled with bright stars.
Each of them was a sun like their own, she had learned. She wondered if more worlds like this may be out there among them. She hoped that if there were, whoever lived there was having a better time.
She drifted off to sleep with thoughts of a faraway alien civilization feasting on white bread and rich golden hay, and frolicking under a warm summer sun.
Butternut’s sleep didn’t last long. Seemingly as soon as she closed her eyes, a rough kick woke her suddenly. “Up!” commanded the voice, and Butternut obliged as fast as she could, crawling out into the unwelcoming cold and rolling up the bag.
The camp was a flurry of activity. The sun was just rising and the camp was shrouded in mist. She walked to get in line with the other prisoners to receive their cargo. This time, she was saddled with a barrel of apples, strapped across her back. It wasn’t nearly as light as the oat sacks she had carried before. The command to move out came, and they were headed west once more.
As they walked, Butternut sensed someone coming up behind her. She turned, expecting a pegasus there to roughly command her to go faster, but found to her relief that it was just Marigold, a mare older than herself, who she had gotten to know in the weeks of their journey. Talking was forbidden, but conversations could be had among the laborers if they were careful enough.
“How are you doing?” Asked Marigold, her voice hoarse.
“Fine. I hate carrying barrels. At least the sacks match the contour of your back.” Butternut grunted.
“I know.” Responded Marigold sympathetically, she herself with a barrel of unknown contents. Potatoes, perhaps. “What do you think it’ll be like?”
“The mountains? I suppose it’ll be difficult going.”
“No, no. When we get there. To their city. What do you think they’ll do to us?”
Butternut realized she hadn’t really considered that. She and everyone else had been so focused on the long journey and the looming mountains in front of them that she hadn’t thought of the end result.
“Well, they expect us to grow food for them. We may not be treated fairly, but they’ll keep us alive.”
Marigold was quiet from then on. They walked, eyes glued to whoever was in front of them. They passed stands of trees and frozen lakes, and most torturous- a hot spring. They had no choice but to trot past it, each of them freezing and sorely in need of a bath.
Eventually the sun began to set, and the command came to set the camp. Pegasus soldiers observed from above as they set about collecting firewood and pitching tents.
Butternut herself was on firewood detail. She prefered this most as it allowed a little time alone from the others, and she could walk without the weight on her back.
She plodded through the forest, picking up dry sticks and adding them to a stack she was building nearby.
As she moved towards a spruce to collect it’s pitch, something caught her eye. She thought it may be one of the others, but quickly she realized that this was no pony.
She struggled to make it out through the trees, and it was some distance away, but from what she could see, it was a creature that could not be of the earth. It looked like it was made of ice. It floated, but not with wings like a pegasus might- instead, this thing was wispy, like a cloud, and yet solid at the same time. The most clear feature was the eyes- a piercing, evil blue.
She stood there, stock-still, terrified. The monster seemed to freeze her with it’s very gaze. It seemed like an eternity, but eventually, another noise snapped her out of it. She whipped her head around to find a soldier- one of the younger, kinder ones.
“What are you still doing out here? Come on, grab that wood and let’s get back.”
She turned to look for the ice creature again, but it was gone.