//------------------------------// // Cold War // Story: Agate's Vigil // by Wingnut //------------------------------// It took a few more days after the seals came for something to happen. A storm suddenly rolled in from the south, a stunningly violent one for a calm spring day. The clouds were dark and charged with lightning, the water droplets practically moving sideways due to the force of the wind. Grinning wryly, Thundersnow strutted outside, taking a long whiff of the air before ushering the regular ponies to their igloos. "They should have stuck to their birds," She shouted over the noise to Agate and Wind Whisper, still smiling. "I'd have far more trouble with those than the air spirits. Oh yes, they have been my friends before I could even talk properly. Wind Whisper, you just watch and listen, no need to expend your strength. I'll deal with this." The young mare nodded, having to struggle a bit just to keep her grip on the wet ice and not get blown into the sea. Agate kept silent, not really having anything to say. Glancing around, she took in the weather, trying to figure out how to spot the differences between a natural and a shamare-summoned storm. Besides its sudden appearance, though, it looked like any old storm. Taking another deep, deep breath, Thundersnow performed her wind howl, getting the wind spirit's attention in their own language. Agate kept her ears perked as the shamare continued her conversation, but the bits she managed to catch just sounded like more wind noises, such as whistling or leaves shaking in the branches. This went on for a little while, Thundersnow employing all kinds of ways of communication, from whistling to dancing around, gesticulating wildly all the time. As with most shamaric magic, it looked incomprehensible to Agate, though Wind Whisper was watching with rapt attention, her eyes wide with wonder. The odd thing was that the winds not only didn't seem to be calming, but they were getting even more violent, if anything. Thundersnow's shock-white mane and tail were getting tossed about in every possible direction despite getting wet, the entire storm's fury concentrating in a small space around the mare. A bolt of lightning even struck the ice floe not too far from them, briefly blinding and deafening the pair of observers. Thundersnow's demeanor was still calm, though, the mystic smiling serenely as the wind almost lifted her off the ice. She was clearly in her element. When it came, the climax of Thundersnow's efforts was oddly sudden. The winds kept raging around the shamare for a bit more, until it all just... Stopped. The small island of violence became an island of tranquility, everything around them coming to a deathly still. They could still hear the storm howling in the distance, but their immediate surroundings were as calm as calm can be. "Huh," Agate breathed quietly, impressed by such a complete turnaround. That wasn't all, though. After taking a few moments to catch her breath, Thundersnow began dancing again, whistling and gesticulating southwards. It wasn't hard to guess that she intended to return the summoned storm right back to its senders. Gradually, the wind picked up again, the grumbling clouds getting pushed southwards at the shamare's behest. She watched them go with a satisfied look on her face, the storm becoming even fiercer than it was when it came upon them. Though she looked mostly spent, her legs shaking a little and her breaths heaving, Thundersnow still stood strong, arching her neck proudly as she gazed upon her hoofwork. Absently brushing some water out of her coat, she looked around for any damage. The lightning cracked a good chunk of ice off the main body and the rain melted off a thin layer from the surface, but the damage to their vessel was superficial, given just how massive the ice floe was. "That should send quite the message," She finally spoke, turning towards the encampment. Cheers arose from the direction of the igloos, a number of pony's heads peeking out from the entrances. While they did take shelter, they clearly wanted to see the whole thing go down, opting to observe discreetly instead of just waiting it out. Now that the worst of it was over, they came out, wonderingly looking around. Though the wind was blowing hard, it was now their familiar northern wind that was on their side, rather than the southern one that assailed them moments before, and they greeted it with smiles. "What exactly did you do, Thundersnow? Just send the storm back, or was there something more?" Agate inquired, trotting up to walk alongside the tired shamare. "Nothing more than what they tried doing to us," She replied with a shrug. "I convinced the spirits to go back to the ones that called upon them in the first place, though I did add a bit of a kick to the storm. Those fools should hope that their homes are sturdy, or they'll get their roofs ripped right off. I told them back in Snowpitt what would happen if they dared to attack my tribe again. They chose not to heed my warning, which they are free to do... As they are to suffer the consequences for their actions." With a nod to the onlookers, she made her way to her igloo, clearly intending to take a nap. Respectfully nodding back, the ponies went back to their tasks, chattering excitedly about what they just witnessed. Wind Whisper, meanwhile, remained where she stood before, ears perked as she listened to the wind. ❅ ❆ ❅ Thus began what snowpony lorekeepers later referred to as the "Spirit War of Woods and Ice", though the northerners actually had some trouble with the ice part. The journey from Snowpitt to Smoky bay and then going southwest took almost two months, not to mention the time Thundersnow spent preparing back in Green Land. Spring was in full swing, with summer looming on the horizon. And summer meant warm weather with lots of sun, which meant bad news for the slowly melting ice floe. Fortunately for them, the northern tribe's shamares knew how to manipulate ice well enough to make weapons out of it, so magically reinforcing a good chunk of the ice floe to stop it from melting wasn't too large of a task. Still, that did mean spending effort fighting both the seasons and the westerner's attacks, which put even more responsibility of Thundersnow's shoulders. That was not to say that Wind Whisper didn't carry her weight. The young trainee spent lots of time listening, both to the spirits and to her elders. "Hmmm..." "What's the matter, Wind? Do you hear something coming?" Thundersnow inquired, absent-mindedly examining the ice around them. "It's... Already here, elder. Can you feel that gentle breeze from the south?" "Yes, though it's not particularly strong, so I don't see what- Oh! Oh, I think I know what you mean. It's warm, isn't it?" "Yes, that is my concern. I can hear the faint whispers... I think the wind spirits were nudged to blow this way, though it was done very subtly." "Well now, how impressive! It took them this long to finally do something that's actually clever for once. Instead of attacking us directly, they're trying to melt the ice right from under our hooves. Heh heh... Let's see, then. How about we work together on this one? You gently nudge the spirits to blow, say, a bit more east, and I'll call upon the northern winds to come to our aid," Thundersnow suggested, tossing her mane back with a flourish and sitting down in a meditative position. Perking her ears, Wind Whisper nodded slowly, her expression not entirely certain, but still determined. "Very well, elder." Since they were not in a rush this time, their respective rituals were far more calmer and orderly than when dealing with violent weather. Bit by bit, the gentle breeze slowed to the point it was barely even noticeable, getting overtaken by a more vigorous wind blowing in from the north soon after. With a smile, Thundersnow proudly patted Wind Whisper on the back, the young mare giving a small smile in return. ❅ ❆ ❅ That wasn't the only trick the westerners tried to pull. A few weeks later, one of the ponies that came with them, an old, faded-brown colored stallion that simply introduced himself as Stout, trotted over to where Thundersnow was meditating. "Pardon me, shamare." "Hmm? Was there something you needed, elder? Any trouble in the water, or the air?" Though Thundersnow was the leader of this expedition, the regular ponies were pretty much doing their own thing and acting as support in the background rather than taking direct orders all the time, so they developed their own hierarchy, with Stout becoming the leader of the non-mage ponies by virtue of being the most experienced among them. "Not exactly as such, but water might be the issue. Looking at the sky, I believe we are moving eastwards, with a touch of north. Now, there's no currents here that go that way, we spent enough time fishing around here to learn that. None that go there naturally, anyways." "Ahhhh... So they are trying to get rid of me by simply shoving me away," The shamare grinned, though she was interrupted by a yawn. "Blast it, I'm too tired to deal with this right now... Then again, why bother? Let's use this to our own advantage." "How do we do that?" "I'll nudge the water spirits ever so gently, so that they take us by some islands where we can do some trading. And when we're done and I catch my breath a little, I'll send us floating right back to the westerner's shores. Remind me again, which ones were the biggest in the region, specifically to the east of us?" "Hmmm..." Agate, having listened to the conversation, butted in. "There's only one really big one, I think, called Curved Shore, though Shell Island is quite populated despite its small size, and it's popular with traders." "Excellent. Thank you, Agate. Your scouting flights really are invaluable at helping us navigate these unfamiliar waters. Now then... Shell Island, perhaps? Agate, could you give me a direction?" "Sure. Give me a moment." "No rush. This thing moves like a glacier, after all. Heh." Once they got close to their goal, the fisherponies and the rest paddled off with fresh catch that they got with the help of the seals, coming back with small bundles of wood or other necessities. At some local's requests, they even traded off chunks of the ice floe, drinking water being in high demand on some islands. Once they were done, Thundersnow did her thing, and they were moving west again. The westerners tried the same thing a few more times, and though it greatly tired Thundersnow, she still managed to bring the Battle Glacier back to the western shore, making sure to get the most use out of it every time, letting the ponies get their trading done before moving out. Eventually, they gave up on shoving the ice floe back and forth, and went back to their previous methods. ❅ ❆ ❅ Though sending storms at Thundersnow seemed like a fool's errand, given her affinity to wild weather, the westerners still tried it on occasion. Perhaps it was pride - they didn't want to admit that she was their superior in that regard, or perhaps they were simply trying to wear her out. On the latter choice, it was working, whether it was intentional or not. "Hooo... That'll... *Gasp* Show them. Ugh..." "Are you alright, Thundersnow?" Agate inquired, eyeing the quivering shamare with a critical eye. "I am fine, Agate. Just... Phew. Need a breather. Wrangling storms this big is not easy, even if I make it look like it is," The shamare waved it off, though she had to immediately put that leg back down on the ice to keep her balance. "Go take a rest, then. Nothing ever happened right after we beat off another attack, so I don't think anything is going to happen now. We'll keep watch, right, Wind Whisper?" "Of course, traveler spirit." "Sure, sure... Just a... Short nap." They all watched as the tired mystic ambled to her igloo, trying not to trip. Once she went in, Wind Whisper gave Agate a respectful nod, and went closer to the edge of the ice floe, going back to her quiet listening. Pursing her lips, Agate kept watching Thundersnow's igloo for a while, eventually shaking her head. "She can't keep going like this..." She thought out loud, the old habit never really having gone away. "Hm. She is quite powerful, but shamares are still ponies... Are you afraid she'll hurt herself? She's too disciplined for that from what I saw, but I know little about shamares," An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind Agate. Blinking, the spirit turned around, examining the pony that overheard her. It was a young mare, one that she recognized by face, but never really got her name. Agate was on friendly enough terms with everyone in the expedition, but she spent most of her time around Thundersnow, so didn't really have the time to get to know anyone. "Ah, hello. Didn't see you back there. As to your question... I'm not sure. I spent some time with Thundersnow, and she is fairly disciplined, but I never saw her give up or back down. And if getting some rest means giving up the fight, well... I really am not sure what she's going to do." "Are you planning to do anything about it? Occupy the westerners for a while with some clever trick, or perform some protective magic to keep them off our backs?" She asked eagerly, leaning into Agate so closely, their muzzles were almost touching, her deep blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, ah... I'm not one with flashy magics like that, really..." "Oh? But my grandmother said you had all sorts of tricks up your sleeves, and you surely got better since then! Though, she did say the most you did back in the day was scouting..." She trailed off thoughtfully, gazing into the distance. "Grandmother? Let's back up a little, I don't even know your name yet. And who is your grandmother? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your family," Agate said, looking the mare up and down. Blue eyes, gradient, creamy coat and mane that slowly turned dark gray as it went lower... Nothing rung a bell, though. "Ah, well, it was quite some years ago now, and you didn't travel with her all that much, from what she told me. But those journeys were most memorable, according to her! Her name is Harpoon. Oh, silly me... My name is Spear Whittle, daughter of Salmon Scale and Fishtail, granddaughter of Harpoon and Net Weave." None of those names jumped out to Agate, save one. "Oh, Harpoon... I remember her. There were three of them, on my very first expedition. Harpoon, Seaweed, and... Dang it, who- Oh yes, Wave Splash. I never kept in contact, though... I met hundreds of ponies just that time alone." "No no, don't feel bad about it! Of course you can't keep up with everyone you meet, especially when you travel as much as you do. You must have went on dozens - no, hundreds of expeditions over the years, and met thousands of ponies. Why, there's a bunch of us here because of you, and I doubt you were with any of our ancestors all that long." "What do you mean by here because of me?" "Well..." That was when she learned that not everyone came on the expedition because of Thundersnow. Almost half of the thirty that came, thirteen ponies to be precise, actually came there because of Agate. Their parents or grandparents told their children stories of their adventures with the traveler spirit, and when the news came, they wanted to experience it for themselves. So, it wasn't just a single group on the Battle Glacier, one that was entirely Thundersnow's posse. Agate had a posse all of her own, eager to talk to her and even perform tasks for her, if she had any. "Well, this is interesting," Agate mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she observed the ponies sitting in front of her. "What are you thinking, Agate?" Spear Whittle inquired, the mare seemingly becoming the leader of the group without being aware of it, the other ponies respectfully lining up behind her. "Mostly, I'm thinking about how to solve this whole mess. I've been thinking about it for over a year, though, so don't expect some kind of grand wisdom from me. All I can tell you so far is that this isn't working, and I don't think we can keep this going all that long." A number of ponies exchanged uncertain glances, Spear Whittle speaking up again after a moment of considering Agate's words. "Could you elaborate a little on your thoughts, please?" "Hm. Well, to try and summarize, I'm not sure Thundersnow can keep up with the strain of fighting the westerner shamares, and it doesn't look like they're going to give up any time soon. Even if Thundersnow could handle it, we could end up staying here for years, just tossing storms and spirits back and forth." "Well, what else are we supposed to do? They attacked us first, and they kept attacking us afterwards! The only way I see is to keep going until their spirits are broken and they give up!" A young stallion from the back exclaimed, his fiery statement being met with mutters of agreement from the crowd. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to justify their actions in any way. Just... From what I saw, our adversaries are immensely prideful, and Thundersnow is... Similar in her demeanor. Breaking down their will could take not years, but decades, if it works at all. Something tells me they might end up bringing destruction upon themselves rather than back down, and in the meantime, the battle could cause irreparable damage to many things, from inter-tribal relations to the environment. What I want is a solution that is both swifter than that and... Permanent would be the word, I guess." "By permanent, do you mean...?" The same stallion trailed off meaningfully, hefting his spear in a manner that conveyed exactly how he interpreted the word. Huffing, Agate shook her head. "That could end very badly for the northern tribe. Rightful or not, killing their shamares would forever paint the tribe as the villains in the other tribe's eyes." "You know that it's just luck that no one died from the westerner's attacks yet, right? My cousin was in Green Land when they sent their birds there last year. She got nicked and fell overboard. In other circumstances, that might have well been a death sentence. And that storm after the Gathering, when the chieftain was travelling back north? We are brave, not foolish, and we know not to go out to sea during storms. If they were any further from an island than they were, there would have definitely been casualties," A different stallion spoke, his voice quiet, but firm and filled with conviction. "Well, luck or not, if we kill first, we'll still look like the bad guys. And I know that the northerners are finally self-sufficient and don't strictly need the other tribes any more... But is that how you want to live? Cast off your sister tribes as soon as they're of no more use to you?" Agate chided her followers, her words making most of them fold their ears in shame. "What do you suggest, then?" Spear Whittle asked. "Urg... I don't know, but I'm not the only pony involved in this. So far, my only thought is that we need the chieftain. No, both chieftains. I know that shamares can overrule chieftains in some areas, but right now, the westerner shamares are acting like a bunch of foals, and they need to be brought in line. Problem is, we don't even know the name of the westerner's new chieftain yet. Jagged Ice... He wanted to negotiate with the westerner's chieftain, once he found out. He needs to be told exactly what is happening here. I think... I think what I need most right now is a messenger. Probably more than one," Agate pondered, her brows furrowed. "You can fly faster than any of us can paddle, though?" Spear Whittle pointed out. "Yes, but my magic is limited. I can't be everywhere at once, and flying to Green Land would still take a full day or more, and I would need rest... And Thundersnow needs my help, something I can do, but you can't. So. Who is willing to take a message for me?" It took a few moments, but eventually, all thirteen ponies raised their hooves, smiling with excitement. ❅ ❆ ❅ Though Agate couldn't help with talking to nature spirits or other shamaric stuff, she did perform no small amount of magic to keep everyone safe. Among all the safety measures Thundersnow made to keep their floating encampment safe were the crystals that helped power the sight-confounding wards against hostile beings. While the two shamares were more powerful, Agate was still a crystal pony spirit. It took her only a fraction of the magic they would have had to spend to recharge the crystals, though even that amount taxed her sometimes, given how intense some of the attacks were. The wards definitely did their job, though, the flocks of westerner's bird spirits circling the ice floe in confusion, crying out in anger and frustration the entire time. They knew their quarry was somewhere nearby, but most of them weren't quite able to see it. Now and then, a lucky or particularly strong specimen would charge down at them, followed by a small wing of its kin. Such scattered attacks were laughably easy to repel, however, and they dealt with the aerial raids without too much issue. Mostly, Thundersnow would repel the westerner's attacks and send a response if she wasn't too drained, though she did toss a few storms here and there during the periods when she was able to get enough rest. Nothing either group did seemed to have any effect on the other side, though. While the northerners couldn't really see how well - or how badly - the western shamares were doing, their attacks didn't stop or slow down. And while their adversaries did their best to get rid of them, none of the ponies in the expedition felt like they should give up, either. This stalemate kept going all throughout what remained of spring, the entire summer, and well into autumn. While Thundersnow was still tired, she managed to keep going, though not without support from everyone in the expedition. "They just keep coming!" Wind Whisper yelled, smacking down another bird spirit swooping down at her. "Ancestors, they really wrangled up a lot this time, haven't they?" Thundersnow grumbled, waving Pine Needle's spirit whacker around. "Thundersnow, I don't know how long I can keep going!" Agate shouted, seeing blackness creep into the edges of her vision as she kept the wards up. "Hold on just a while longer! We can deal with this!" Usually, the non-mage ponies would take shelter during such attacks, but a few stallions just happened to return from a fishing trip. Two quickly dashed to their igloos, but one slowed down, intently examining what Thundersnow was doing. "Shamare, could I use that weapon?" He asked, dodging the swooping birds. "What? Use the... Yes! Yes, of course! Oh, I've been stupid, I should have made more, enough for- Gah! Catch!" Thundersnow yelled, tossing the rod to the stallion and smacking herself for her shortsightedness. With a grin, the old hunter took a moment to feel the weapon's weight and balance before jumping into the fight, smashing the spirits apart with great swings. Thundersnow and Wind Whisper took the momentary respite to catch their breaths, the elder shamare's eyes darting about as she tried to think of a solution. "Warriors!" She yelled, galloping to her igloo. "I need your aid!" Spirits really weren't their area of expertise, but the hunters still assembled fairly swiftly, despite the rather doubtful looks on their faces. Almost immediately, the birds started going for them, and, much as they expected, their spears and harpoons didn't have any effect on the ethereal creatures. Some tried to use their hooves, but in their confusion and uncertainty, their swings were slow and easily avoidable. "Here! To me!" Thundersnow yelled again, emerging from her igloo with a few clay pots. "Dip your spears and rub your hooves in this!" She immediately started applying the same oily paint Agate saw the shamares use back in Green Land on their weapons, the ponies quickly getting the idea and grabbing the clay pots themselves. Naturally, the bird spirits took the opportunity to swarm the group, but the experienced hunters were used to the sensation of animals clawing at them. Wincing in pain, they grimaced angrily, immediately turning around and getting into the fight as soon as the painting was done. "Yaaaargh!" "Choke on this, you damned flying pillows! You chose the wrong mare to try and eat!" "Ancestors, guide my aim!" Seeing this, Agate let go of the crystal, the ward rapidly losing power due to the sheer amount of creatures that were trying to penetrate its defenses. Collapsing on the ice, her mind foggy, she watched as the birds that were circling around finally saw their targets, attacking the ponies with victorious cries. Their victory was not to be, however. While the paint didn't seem to work as well as it did when shamares used it, it worked well enough to cause noticeable pain and disrupt whatever enchantments the westerners put on the birds, if they got hit a sufficient amount of times. Despite the much larger than usual numbers of hostile spirits, the ponies that were actually experienced in melee combat tore through their opponents with ease. After the fighting was done, the victorious ponies cheered, still looking a bit confused at the lack of blood from their injuries and other oddities from fighting spirits, but pleased with their success nonetheless. None of them noticed the one casualty from the battle, save Wind Whisper. Approaching Agate, the young shamare laid down in front of her with a concerned frown, looking into the spirit's glazed and unfocused eyes. Closing her own, she took in a deep breath, aligning her muzzle perfectly with Agate's as she breathed out. Seeing the spirit's eyelids flutter, she kept going as the fog slowly lifted from Agate's mind. "Blarg," She spoke eloquently, trying to wave a hoof, but only succeeding in a lazy flop. "Shhh," Wind Whisper shushed, continuing her treatment. After a few more breaths, Agate managed to sit up, feeling weird and tingly. She saw shamares using the same technique to help sick ponies heal, but it had been a long, long time since she needed help herself. Shaking herself to try and get rid of the odd tingles, she nodded to Wind Whisper. "Thanks." "Don't mention it. Just doing my part, small as it is." The whole thing didn't go unnoticed by the others, though most of them kept a respectful distance. The ponies from Agate's group were more curious, though, surrounding them in a small semicircle. Once Wind Whisper was done, several of them lay down next to Agate, examining her. "Is there any way we can ease your burdens?" Spear Whittle asked, glancing at the crystal from the corner of her eye. "Not unless you can help me charge that crystal, no," Agate shrugged, rubbing her face with her hooves, not really expecting what happened next. "Could we?" "I already learned how to get light from these so I can save on wood and don't have to use a torch." "I did too, is that enough to charge this crystal?" "It looks different, though, does it work the same?" Blinking, Agate considered the situation. She had been teaching ponies how to use crystals for a while now, and she saw plenty of them using them during the dark months to light up their surroundings and homes. The ward required significantly more power than producing light did, but channeling magic into it was the exact same process. "Well... That's an interesting question. You probably can. I'd love to find out, but I'm a bit tired now. How about we go somewhere a bit more relaxing and we talk about things, first?" Of course, the Battle Glacier didn't exactly have anything other than plain ice, at least at first. Still, the ponies had some free time between fishing or trading trips, and they spent it in various ways. Some improved their dwellings, while others engaged in making ice sculptures, decorating their surroundings with statues of various real and mythological ponies and creatures, ice carving being a popular pastime in the northern tribe. Agate was still surprised just how detailed and realistic some of them were. One of the other things they built was a small meeting hall of sorts, though it was just an extra large igloo that was a bit oblong instead of being perfectly circular. Bending down, Agate slid inside, her crew following after her. Once they were all there, she reflexively counted heads, stopping at nine. The missing ones were out on messenger runs, only having left recently. "So. We've been here for a good part of the year. Doesn't feel like we achieved all that much, though," Agate began, after the silence dragged on for a bit too long. "We haven't backed down either, though. The westerners would have kept sending attacks at Green Land, probably catching more unaware ponies in their shenanigans," Spear Whittle shrugged, the others nodding. "Right. Still, when ponies fight beasts, it's usually over quickly. That's what I learned both from stories and my personal experience, at least. One wrong step, and that's it either for you or your enemy. This... I honestly didn't know what to expect from this whole thing, since I didn't have any experience of ponies battling other ponies... Not that anyone in the three tribes does, either. I don't think anyone here expected this to be such a... Such a... Slog." "Hmmm... That's true, I suppose. I don't think we did." Spear Whittle agreed with a slow nod. "What about the chieftain? Any news from that front?" A different mare asked. "The last messengers returned a couple days ago, while you were out fishing. Not a lot of news, unfortunately. Each run only brings us crumbs," Agate groused. Which was true. The northern reaches where the tribe made their homes was a vast territory. Not that they were unaware of the fact, of course, but the sheer distances really made themselves apparent when you tried to have a conversation with someone that was on the other side of the northerner's lands - or waters, as it were. The messengers took weeks to make the journey one way, and then had to spend weeks again just to get back, making the whole information process move at a glacial pace. Jagged Ice was very happy to receive Agate's missives, and he shared everything that he managed to find out with her. The first thing that they learned was the westerner's chieftain's name, Firm Root. Jagged Ice didn't know much about the stallion. Apparently, he was the second in command after Oak Bark, and he would stay behind and look over their people during winter, while the migrating portion of their tribe would go to the Gathering in Snowpitt. That made him a bit of an enigma. He didn't have any interactions with any of the northerners involved in the conflict, which was potentially a good thing, as that should have meant that he wouldn't have any prejudices against them. At the same time, though, he was Oak Bark's right hoof, which could also mean that the former chieftain and his shamares twisted his knowledge about them. Jagged Ice sent messengers of his own to talk to the stallion about the conflict between their tribes, but he had the same problem that Agate did, except it was even worse for him. His messengers had to travel across the sea and the western forests to reach their destination, and that was only at first. As the clashes between Thundersnow and the western shamares really kicked off, travelling ponies of both tribes started avoiding the region, not wanting to get caught in a rogue storm or be attacked by spirits. Just like the northerners, the other tribes also had cautionary tales about what would happen if a pony got caught between feuding shamares. The situation meant that the chieftain's messengers had to travel south, gallop across the southern tribe's tundra, and only then reach the forests, being forced to make a half-circle instead of going in a straight line. Fortunately, the westerner's new chieftain appeared reasonable, at the very least. From what Jagged Ice told Agate's ponies, Firm Root heard his messengers out and was respectful enough in his replies, but he wanted to know more details about what happened in the past and was happening now, as all his knowledge was second-hoof. Jagged Ice provided him with all he could, including reports from Agate, but the amount of time it took for the ponies to go back and forth meant that the two chieftains barely managed to exchange some half a dozen messages throughout the entire season. Still, the stallions at least came to more or less the same conclusion - namely, that both of their tribe's shamares were acting a bit too wild. According to Firm Root, when he tried to question his shamares about the whole thing, they would either dismiss him outright by telling him not to poke his muzzle into things that are beyond his ken, make up some story about how they have to meditate and that they should not be disturbed, or otherwise dodge the question. Despite that, though, they couldn't exactly hide that they were in an actual war with Thundersnow, given the sheer amount of storms that were devastating their coastline. Seeing that they tried to evade scrutiny rather than directly stating they were in a battle against a foe that supposedly attacked their tribe made him highly suspicious. Likewise, Jagged Ice wasn't quite happy with Thundersnow. The way she gathered the warriors and just went off without even informing the chieftain was extremely out of the ordinary, and could earn a pony some serious punishment, if they weren't a shamare. It was quite unprecedented, and while ponies obviously had freedom to roam and explore the wilderness as they wished, going on an armed expedition into another tribe's lands was an entirely different matter. Though they were provoked by the attacks, taking retaliatory action like that still should have been discussed with him beforehoof. As such, both of them agreed to fully talk it out and get to the bottom of what was happening during the Gathering, seeing as winter was already quite close. That was the last message that Agate received from Jagged Ice. While she didn't know if her ponies would reach the chieftain in time, she sent them off to deliver her final situation report and her thoughts regardless, telling them to travel south to Snowpitt if they couldn't make it to Green Land in time. "And that's the situation. The chieftains are going to try and work something out during the Gathering." "What happens to us, though?" Spear Whittle pondered. "What do you mean? Thundersnow always went south with the chieftain, so I thought we'd make our way to Snowpitt separately and meet him there. I think you could go north to Green Land if you want to, though." "That would mean disengaging from the fight, though, and leaving the Battle Glacier to probably get destroyed by the westerners, with no guarantee that leaving will end this. There's no telling if the chieftains will actually be able to come up with something. With that in mind, do you think Thundersnow will want to leave?" "I... I have no idea..." ❅ ❆ ❅ "Hm.... No, I don't think so. Tell the chieftain I will remain here through the winter." Spear Whittle's concerns turned out to be entirely justified. Thundersnow did not want to leave. A few days after their meeting, a messenger from Jagged Ice came to Thundersnow, with a reminder that winter was right around the corner, and a request to join him in Snowpitt. The stallion seemed a little lost, shifting his weight on his hooves as he considered the shamare's response. He clearly didn't have any obligation other than to deliver the message and go, but he also probably wasn't expecting Thundersnow to refuse. Considering how to proceed, he tried again. "Are you certain, shamare? The Gathering is important. The chieftain will be having important talks with the new westerner chieftain about this entire situation, and it would probably be best if you came. You are quite heavily involved in it, after all." "Yes, involved in defending my tribe," Thundersnow huffed. "Tell me, will the westerner's chieftain take his shamares with him? Will they leave, or will they continue sending their beasts and spirits at this region through the winter?" "I... I do not know." "Well then, I am staying," She declared, turning away from the messenger, and towards the expeditionary crowd. "Hear me, all of you! Winter is coming, and things will get cold and unpleasant. What does that even mean for us, though? We of the northern tribe scoff at such things. We spent the entire season on an ice floe, sent to us by the very spirits of the north, and we are none the worse for wear. Usually, the change in seasons would mean migrating to somewhere more comfortable, but we took on a serious task when we came here. A duty. I never told you how long you might have to stay with me, because I didn't know myself. As such, I will not blame any one of you that decide to leave - you are free to do so, with no ire from me. But I, I will not leave until those arrogant fools that dared attack us leave. If they flee and finally cease their attacks, we will all go to Snowpitt and spend the winter there. If not... Well, we already have well-warded and reinforced igloos, with no small amount of preserved fish and seaweed that we caught through the summer. We will do just fine." The gathered ponies took a few moments to think her words through and glance around, gauging the mood of their compatriots. None of them stated any intentions of leaving, and after a few moments, Stout shrugged, taking a step forward. "I can't say I care much whether this lasts a month or a decade more. I'm an old wolf, and there's not that much for me to even do any more. My children are all grown up, and I taught them all I could years ago, but I certainly don't like the thought of them getting caught up in some storm or other nonsense the westerners send at us. I'm seeing this through until the end, one way or another." The rest of the group made similar exclamations. Some were more subdued than others, but none of the ponies looked like they were unhappy with staying, the differences coming more from their attitudes towards the situation. Some were enthusiastic and aggressive, while others were solemn and grim, but the decision was unanimous. As long as Thundersnow decided to remain on the Battle Glacier, so would they. "I knew that the spirits of my tribesfolk were not so easy to grind down. We remain," Thundersnow smiled, with no small amount of satisfaction. Turning back towards the messenger, she nodded to him. "As you can see, my mind is made up. If the westerner's chieftain wants me to go, then he'd better get his shamares to go first. I'm not going anywhere until that happens." "But it was our chieftain that... Nevermind," The stallion sighed, shaking his head. "I see that you're not going to budge on this. I suppose I'll just... Go now." With a nod to the others, he trotted away, back towards the edge of the ice floe and his kayak. Agate watched him go, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. Silently trotting over to Thundersnow, she addressed the shamare. "Do you think this is the right choice? What harm is there in leaving?" "Do you think the westerners will just stop attacking, Agate? Not to mention, if I go, I know those cowards would crow for ages about how they managed to scare me off. No, I gave them a clear warning about what would happen to them if they kept it up. They did it regardless, and I am not leaving without teaching them a hard, painful lesson," Thundersnow angrily ground out. "All they'd be attacking is an empty region... Or, if we left for Snowpitt, that would mean they'd attack the southern tribe itself, if their spirits follow you there. I don't think the southerners would take it kindly." Thundersnow's eyes went wide at the implications. "Oh my spirits! Now that would be one heck of a mess! Oh, just imagine the fools that called me undisciplined and out of control commit such an act! Hah! Oh, that- no, no, no... I shouldn't think like that, like the conniving westerners. They tried to pass their first attack off as the spirits themselves enacting their justice, remember? No, as amusing as it would be to watch them provoke the southern tribe, I will not stoop to their pathetic level and go hide in Snowpitt in hopes that they'll turn the southerners against themselves. No, I have too much pride and self-respect to do something like that. I will deal with them myself." "They've been holding on for some time, though," Agate pointed out. "Yes, well, they have a tiny bit more will and spine than I expected, I will give them that," Thundersnow begrudgingly admitted. "But winter is our domain, of the tribe of ice and water, of storm and blizzard. We shall see how they shall fare during the cold months." "I see. I guess your mind's really made up." "It is. I have not chosen this path, they did. But I will not stray from it now, not until they themselves change their course." With that, the conversation was over. With a nod, Thundersnow went back to her igloo, while Agate lingered for a moment longer, before going to the edge of the ice floe, looking southeast. The messenger had left already, and she could barely see his swiftly retreating form. Lightning grumbled somewhere in the far distance, the whole region being plagued with non-stop bad weather for the past month. Though Thundersnow spoke of protecting the region, the truth was, just about every pony, northerner or westerner, already moved out, long before the time for the migration south even came. The messengers, the merchants and whatever other travelers that had plied that route had gone, the risk far outweighing the potential profits. It was not mere superstition and fear of the shamares, though. Their concerns were very real and well-founded, the conflict taking its toll on their surroundings. At first, it was only the storms that the shamares called up on and sent at one another. They haven't seen a single natural storm the entire season, as if nature spent its strength entirely at the behest of the shamares, taking the time to rest when they weren't fighting. Bit by bit, though, the weather turned foul. It was as if the entire region was getting riled up. Not just the animals or the ponies living there, but the region itself. The wind, the water, probably the only part remaining calm being the earth. When Agate performed her shamaric focusing and meditation exercises, she could feel the very fabric of magic shifting ever so slightly faster, the usually ponderous and glacial field becoming more agitated. Whether it was just another symptom or the cause, it translated into real events in the physical world. The spirits of air became chaotic and unpredictable, blowing against one another in frantic exchanges. One moment, they would have a strong, warm breeze from the south, carrying with it the scents of pine needles. Moments later, it would be replaced by a freezing headwind from the north, with the scent of sea. Such clashes caused incredibly sudden and wild storms, with twisting gusts that blew one way, and then flip around and blow the completely opposite direction faster than you could even blink. The air constantly felt charged with static electricity, and Agate could even see the occasional spark dance on the coats of the snowponies during particularly lightning-filled storms. Though her seldom-employed sense of touch was almost nonexistent, even she could feel something dance on her ethereal coat when lightning struck nearby, making her shiver and shake herself at the largely forgotten sensations. The waves that rose from the sea were massive, making even the normally stable and rather ponderously moving Battle Glacier rock and bob up and down from their strength, the water splashing over the sides of the glacier. While the encampment was safe, it was still an unpleasant experience whenever that happened. Spirits glided through the cloudy sky, their cries echoing and sounding eerie throught the furious gales. It wasn't clear whether it was the westerner's birds or not. The ponies saw plenty of avians, though among them were many forms that definitely hadn't participated in the previous attacks sent by the forest tribe. It was impossible to say whether they were simply new recruits by the shamares or whether the constant expenditure of magic and rituals awakened them by accident, dragging the new batch of bird spirits into this conflict. Either way, besides the massive flocks, they now had to watch out for lone attacks as well, every successful defense now leaving several unusually persistent specimens that would only flee temporarily, biding their time as they circled the skies. Though Thundersnow and the western shamares would usually send something to each other at least once a week, by Agate's reckoning, the final three weeks were spent shooing away the wildest weather and trying to protect themselves, not anything to do with the westerners. Both Thundersnow and Wind Whisper agreed that the storms that happened probably weren't sent by their foes, though they still did their best to nudge them southwest, not wanting to waste the opportunity. All of that was unpleasant, of course, though nothing the northerners couldn't deal with. Among the many magics Thundersnow employed to ensure their victory were runes for the hunter's spears, painted and carved to cause pain to spirits and more cold enchantments for the Battle Glacier, though the majority of those were done by travelling shamares that periodically came to their vessel to aid them in their undertaking. While they lost a great deal of mass through the summer, the ice floe shrinking to perhaps only a fifth or a sixth of it's size, it was still big enough to comfortably house them all, given how huge it was in the beginning. Still, everyone in the expedition knew that there was a very real possibility that, come winter, there would be creatures that they wouldn't be able to deal with. They did not speak of it, as mentioning the names of some beings meant that they could hear you and be summoned by your words, but there were plenty of glances northwards from the expeditioners, the frequency increasing with each day as the seasons changed. Windigoes weren't something the snowponies feared too much. After all, they weren't just spirits of hatred - though seeing one was not a good omen, they were also heralds of winter, and one would often be able to see some circling the skies around Snowpitt after the Calling. While they were remembered as the ones that destroyed the ancient pony homeland and forced their ancestors to flee their lands, the lorekeepers and the general population largely agreed that it was the fault of their predecessors that caused the windigoes to attack them like they did. Come spring, they would leave without fail, and it was unheard of to see them during any season other than winter. As such, they were simply accepted as a natural part of nature's cycles, albeit an unpleasant one that was best avoided until it went away. Unless, of course, the heralds of winter found ponies with hearts as cold as their own, at which point they wouldn't budge, extending winter forever - or, rather, until they claimed their prey. No one knew for certain whether the ancient scourge of ponykind would show up, but with how messed up their surroundings were getting, more than likely, their chances of remaining undetected were close to zero. Even if they didn't hold any true hatred for the westerners, fighting out of concern for their kin rather than spite, they didn't exactly love the conniving shamares, either. Not to mention, it was entirely possible that it would be the westerners that would attract the windigo's attention, which would mean bad news for the northerners as well. It didn't matter whether it was but one in a hundred, when windigoes came for a pony, everyone in a large area around them suffered, which was why the laws on banishment of ponies that were causing internal strife and grief were so strict. Still, the windigoes were not invincible. There were ways to deal with them. Ponies found their methods, from the Crystal Heart to the spiritual magics and wards of the shamares. Either way, though, everyone in the expedition could be certain of one thing - whether the unusually aggressive weather would translate into equally fierce blizzards, or if the windigoes would come to bother them, it was going to be a cold, dark winter.