//------------------------------// // Anima // Story: Lights Going Out // by Gonderlane //------------------------------// Aurora trotted along the snowy coastline, her hooves crunching on the snow in a rhythmic cadence amid the frigid cold she had grown accustomed to. Her gaze remained fixed upon the icy waves that crashed against the rocks, the relentless ebb and flow serving as a backdrop to her contemplations. This desolate shoreline was her sanctuary, a refuge from the weight of responsibility that had grown unbearable with everything she had gone through. She had always chosen this place as her refuge from her clan, but as of recent, doubt and uncertainty clouded her once-clear mind more than before. Snowpitt's future, once a distant concern, now loomed ominously for her. Seating herself at the water's edge, she tried to sink into deep meditation. Her consciousness unfurled, attempting to piece together memories from the past and visions of her life. These memories wove a tapestry of experiences, each a lesson to be learned from, all contributing to the mental fog that now consumed her. Despite her efforts, the path ahead remained obscured by uncertainty, causing her to release a slow sigh in an attempt to calm the thoughts swirling within her. She lifted her eyes to look at the ocean. Her gaze rested on the horizon line, searching for answers that were impossible to find. Yet, there was something about the stillness of the air and the waves crashing against rocks that spoke volumes. She felt a sense of peace and purpose that had eluded her for so long. It felt as if the world itself was trying to communicate with her, guiding her toward a path that would bring her closer to her dreams. She began to smile, cherishing the moment of tranquility she would not give up for anything, except for the safety of her husband and child. Just as her mind began to navigate her memories, a sound pierced the solemnity of the scene—a low-pitched growl, followed by a resounding crack. Instantly, her heart started to race, and her fur stood on end as she frantically scanned her surroundings. Through the snowy haze, a blurry silhouette darted forward, disappearing behind a rocky outcrop before reemerging. Aurora's blood turned to ice as recognition dawned upon her. A wolf. Her instincts roared to life, propelling her into a gallop. Each hoofbeat in the snow was a testament to her lineage, each imprint left in her wake a symbol of her heritage.  However, her swift escape came to an abrupt halt as her foreleg collided with a rock, betraying her balance and sending her sprawling to the ground. In that moment, the wolf seized the opportunity, lunging at Aurora and pinning her beneath its weight. Panic surged through her as she struggled against the grip of the wolf's sharp claws digging into her flank and rendering her utterly immobile. A raw scream escaped her lips. Summoning every ounce of her desperation, Aurora kicked out with her hind legs, striking the wolf's belly and forcing it to relinquish its grasp. She scrambled to her hooves, blood oozing from the wound on her flank. Before she could make her escape, a thunderous blow sent her skidding across the unforgiving ice. Pain surged, sharp and immediate. She turned to face the relentless wolf, their eyes locking in a chilling standoff. Between them lay a trail of her blood. The creature's wide, drooling maw bore down on her, its intent unmistakable. In that moment, she could almost see a feral grin, a wild hunger in its eyes. A realization dawned upon her—there was no escape. She couldn't run from this monster. Fleeing would merely postpone the inevitable, and fighting it would only guarantee her death. She whimpered. The wolf lunged once more, jaws closing in around her throat and lifting her frail form from the ground. Aurora squirmed and tried to kick the wolf again, but her strength waned as she felt its teeth clench the flesh of her throat. With her last breath, she cried out—or at least tried to. She could only let out a sound that barely sounded like another whimper. The wind started to grow louder, howling wildly as if in response to the inevitable loss of another life. A blizzard of swirling snow began to envelop them, a tempest of white that veiled both from sight. The wolf roared in confusion as Aurora was released from its maw, stumbling backward and collapsing into the snow. The frantic increase in chaos began to mute her cries. The mournful howl of the wind dared to break the tense moment, yet it could not staunch the flow of her blood. Thoughts of escape and survival were soon replaced by thoughts of her young colt. With the air becoming foggier by the second, she had a much harder time spotting the wolf. As she lay incapacitated, time seemed to blur, and the world around her transformed into a dreamscape. From the swirling snow emerged a glowing silhouette, a mirage in the midst of a storm. Confusion enveloped her as she beheld the figure of a majestic glowing pony, its tall form aglow with an otherworldly radiance she had never seen before.  It was a spirit. Its mane, a cascade of moonlight, flowed like a silvery river. Its coat shimmered with an iridescence, hinting at an otherworldly origin, as if woven from magic. The spirit's aura, ancient and knowing, held a warmth and understanding that reached deep into Aurora's soul, speaking to her without uttering a word. Aurora watched the wolf retreat from the spirit's presence, her body still sprawled on the frigid ground. The throbbing wound in her side was a painful reminder of their recent struggle. Although she was now safe, her torn flesh continued to sting, and the frigid air bit at her exposed wound, making the pain unbearable. Her breaths came fast and labored, and tears welled up in her eyes. Desperation surged through her as she attempted to rise, but the spirit placed a hoof on her shoulder, a silent plea for her to remain still. In that moment, Aurora met the spirit's gaze, her eyes filled with a longing to return to her clan and family. Her heart ached under the weight of uncertainty if she would return home safely. Tears welled in Aurora's eyes as she continued to gaze at the enigmatic being. It felt as though the whispers from her previous meditations had manifested into reality. The stories of spirits from her childhood, once veiled in ambiguity, had now become undeniable truths. This spirit embodied the hopes and dreams of a once younger Aurora. Aurora couldn't tear her eyes away; she was entranced. The spirit's presence calmed her panic, and she held it in reverence. This moment transcended mere rescue; it felt like destiny, an inexplicable event. The ethereal being gazed down at her with its eyes. It was as if it had eagerly awaited this moment, just as she had. Yet, as the spirit's presence enveloped her, Aurora couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was amiss. She couldn't discern whether it was her consciousness slipping away due to her wound, or the surreal nature of the spirit she gazed into. The spirit's form challenged her sense of reality. The swirling snow around them continued to fall, practically cocooning them in a shifting world of white. Every passing second felt fleeting, like snowflakes on the brink of melting. Aurora's senses swirled in overwhelming confusion. Her thoughts drifted away from clarity, entirely consumed by the spirit's captivating eyes. Drawing nearer, the spirit's luminous form seemed to flicker as it extended a hoof towards Aurora. The eventual touch was intimate, as if she could feel the very essence of the spirit's being—a sensation entirely unique to her. The warmth from the spirit's hoof mingled with the chill on her fur, creating a paradoxical, gentle caress. The glow intensified right into the depths of Aurora's wound. The sound was a faint hum, almost drowned out by the whirling snow. The constant sting in her side gradually eased, and Aurora couldn't believe what was happening; she was being healed. Her breath began to slow as the pain receded. Aurora's unwavering gaze remained fixed on the spirit's eyes. Despite the healing, a whisper of doubt tugged at her consciousness. Could this encounter truly be real? Was it a hallucination? The spirit's presence held a tangible yet elusive quality. Aurora's grasp on reality faltered, but at that moment, it hardly mattered. This was beauty incarnate. As the snow continued its dance around them, Aurora's yearning for the spirit's embrace grew stronger. A sense of profound connection seemed to beckon her, drawing her heart and soul closer to the glowing form. The spirit's existence offered a silent reassurance, a sanctuary. It cradled her with an unspoken warmth, as if the very essence of the world itself whispered that she was safe, loved, and held. Just as Aurora began to establish a connection with the spirit, an unexpected change swept through the scene. The winds calmed, and the spirit's radiant form began to waver. The very air quivered, reality peeking closer towards a flux, and the swirling aura of snow weakened. In an instant, the spirit looked up, turned, and galloped away. Aurora's eyes widened in confusion as her connection with the spirit's eyes was finally severed. "Wait!" she instinctively cried, but her hoof met only the air. The spirit had vanished, leaving her alone amidst the snow. For a long moment, Aurora sat there, her sense of purpose fading away. Doubt crept back into her thoughts. She couldn't help but continue to question the reality of all this, although the very real healing in her wound testified to its authenticity. "Aurora!" A cry came, and her ears twitched as she recognized the voice. It was Arctic Stars, her husband. His voice was tinged with panic and fear. "Aurora! Where are you?" As if in response, another voice joined the chorus, a smaller and more innocent voice, yet filled with equal urgency. "Mama! Mama, please!" There was only one voice in the world that could make her jump on all fours that quick. It was Snowbell, her colt. The sound of both their desperate pleas sliced through the air. With a surge of determination, Aurora shook off her confusion and fear. The spirit's departure, while puzzling, could not deter her from her duty as a mother and wife. "I'm here!" she called out, her voice carrying through the air. "Arctic! Snowbell! I'm here!" She began to gallop toward the source of the voices, her heart now beating with apprehension. The snowy landscape blurred around her as she followed the echoes of their cries, her determination unwavering. No matter the mysteries, no matter the mystical encounters, her love for her family would guide her. With each step she took, Aurora drew closer to the ones she held most dear. As she raced through the landscape, reality seemed to warp and twist before her very eyes. This was no ordinary terrain, but a tumultuous place where spirits and wolves coexisted in an unusual harmony. Even after her return to the mundane world, the environment remained undeniably changed, an ethereal hoofprint left by the lingering spirit. The desolate snowy expanse concealed its secrets with an unsettling quiet. Clusters of spectral trees stood as silent testimonies to a region steeped in otherworldly chill and solitude. The very ground quivered with latent enchantment, blurring the line between magic and nature, where mysticism and wilderness shared an uneasy partnership. This was a land where the fabric of reality intertwined with myths of old, and the land itself bore witness to the mysterious forces shaping it. Then, through the curtain of falling snow, she saw them. Arctic Stars, her stalwart and loving husband, stood strong against the weather, his brown coat nearly indistinguishable from hers. Beside him, Snowbell, his blue eyes wide with fear, clung to his father's side. "Mama!" Snowbell's voice rang out as he sprinted toward his mother. Aurora's heart soared, her hooves coming to an abrupt stop. Arctic Stars rushed forward to meet her, rubbing his snout gently against hers. Snowbell, his tiny frame trembling, embraced his mother, his tears melting into her warm fur. "You're safe," Arctic Stars whispered, a blend of relief and concern coloring his voice. "You're safe." Aurora held her family close, the warmth of their love dispelling the icy tendrils of the previous storm. She nuzzled Snowbell's mane, murmuring soft reassurances and planting tender kisses on his head. "What happened?" she inquired, her gaze shifting between them. "Why are you here?" Arctic's eyes flickered with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. "Snowbell came rushing to me this morning, yelling about you being attacked by some monster. So you can kind of guess how quick that got me out of bed." Aurora felt a pang of guilt.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered, kneeling down and pressing her cheek affectionately against Snowbell's. "I'm here now, and we'll find our way back together, okay?" "What about the wolf?" Snowbell asked. Aurora turned around, scanning the surroundings, but the wolf that had attacked her was nowhere in sight. It had vanished since the mysterious pony spirit had appeared. "I... don't know," she admitted, opting to omit the strange details of what happened. Such mysterious encounters with spirits were rare and carried profound significance, or so she had been taught. "It was there, and then suddenly, there was a lot of snowfall, and it ran away. It was like... something intervened." Arctic Stars cast a concerned glance at the area behind her. "Well, you're not hurt," Arctic said reassuringly. "That's what matters." As they huddled together once more, Aurora couldn't help but continue pondering about the pony spirit, as well as if what Arctic was saying was true. How could Snowbell have found her? Did the spirit call for him? She knew about the magical abilities of spirits, but she never realized how it could probably call ponies from afar. Despite her confusion, the warmth of her family provided the comfort she was longing for. Arctic Stars nestled his head against Aurora's neck, his warm breath gently ruffling her fur. "We should go back home. If there was one wolf, there's definitely others,” he suggested. Aurora nodded, her thoughts now focused on their immediate survival. The cold was still relentless since her moment with the spirit, and the howling winds were stern reminders of the need to seek refuge. With Snowbell cradled safely between the two of them, the family followed Arctic Stars' lead through the thickening snowfall as they navigated their way back home. As they walked, Aurora glanced back one more time, half-expecting to see the lingering presence of the spirit. However, the snowy landscape remained empty, devoid of any ethereal figure. Its enchanting touch still felt indelible, leaving a lasting impression on her. Despite her near brush with death, she had never felt more alive. ❅ ❆ ❅ Aurora spotted Heavyhoof and Moonlight Solstice at the gate of Snowpitt, engaged in a heated discussion with unfamiliar ponies. These strangers, adorned in exotic, ice-encrusted armor and wielding sharp spears, bore expressions of deep concern and worry. The combination of their voices along with their adornment made her nervous, yet the reassuring presence of Heavyhoof's towering stature managed to temper her anxiety. "Another stubborn clan," implored one of the unfamiliar ponies, his wild eyes burning with fervor. "The world is changing, and you're still blind to it." Heavyhoof shook his head vehemently. "We've always honored the gods and spirits; this is dull," he retorted, his gaze shifting between the armored strangers, a mix of frustration and reluctance in his voice. "We can't sacrifice any more food." Aurora exchanged a concerned look with her husband and son who were behind her. The tension in the air was palpable, and it was clear that the situation was slowly escalating. "Please," Moonlight whispered, reaching out to Heavyhoof. "Can we talk in private about this?" With a sigh of resignation, Heavyhoof turned to the armored ponies. "Please wait here," he said, weariness now weighing down his voice. "Aurora, since Dirt Patch isn't here, you should come with us." Aurora glanced at her husband, who reassured her with a smile. "It's okay," Arctic Stars affirmed. "I'll be at home with Snowbell." Following a nod, Aurora followed Moonlight and Heavyhoof into the clan ring igloo, casting one last glance at the strangers. Their armored figures carried an aura of authority on top of their unfamiliarity, bearing expressions that seemed to mix pity and disdain, as if they were already mourning an impending loss. Once inside, Heavyhoof began to speak. "They're not entirely wrong," he admitted. "I've talked to our shamares, we've been ignoring our own prophecies." Moonlight shook her head. "I wish Baba was back." Aurora remained silent, uncertain of how to add to the conversation. The notion of sacrificing so much based on Heavyhoof's tone felt difficult. "So, who are they?" Aurora asked. "We're not sure. They arrived some time ago, asking for an audience," Heavyhoof answered, "specifically requesting to see me. That tells me they're familiar with Snowpitt. And when I arrived, they wasted no time diving into their tales of impending doom and the gods' apparent displeasure." "We've been fortunate thus far," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Have they told us where they're from?" Moonlight's gaze grew distant, as if peering into the past. "No," she said. "But... Aurora, you've traveled north, right? Do you remember any notable clans? Stories of a powerful, prosperous one? Or maybe a tribe more attuned to the gods and spirits than any other?" Aurora shook her head. Moonlight's mention of her adventures in the north tinged a hint of recognition deep within her chest. They had taught her quite a lot, but none of those journeys were grand enough for her to discover a clan as strange as these ponies. From these travels, beyond doubt, she had dismissed many stories as mere folklore when she once journeyed north, considering them the fantasies of those seeking hope in darker times. Now, those legends apparently carried new weight. Did this powerful and prosperous tribe truly exist beyond the mountain ranges? Did they indeed possess knowledge beyond the reach of their peers, claiming wisdom as their birthright? "If what they say is true," Heavyhoof said, his brow furrowing, "we may be ill-prepared for what's ahead. We're going to decline." "Heavyhoof, please," Moonlight retorted. "I don't know about rejecting their request right in front of them. It looks like they came a long way." Heavyhoof sighed deeply, his gaze turning to Moonlight. "Are we supposed to kiss every pony's hooves who arrive at Snowpitt? It doesn't matter where they come from; we cannot place full trust in their promises. They're strangers." Aurora looked at Moonlight. She had a defeated expression. It didn't take a shamare or clan elder to recognize the futility of trying to persuade Heavyhoof once his mind was set. But Aurora had learned much from their conversations during her time in Snowpitt; she understood that there was more to Heavyhoof than just brawn. "I'm not good at this stuff," Aurora said, "but we can always say we will do what they ask and decide for ourselves what to actually do later," she suggested softly. Even if she lacked information by arriving at the scene late, she still wanted to add to their decision. "This is why Dirt Patch is on the ring instead of you," Heavyhoof rebuked. Aurora winced. Heavyhoof then stepped out into the frigid air, ready to confront the challenge of negotiating with the armored strangers that still lingered outside. Moonlight and Aurora followed him as they approached the leader of the group. Aurora couldn't shake the unease that washed over her. The group leader stared at her with unwavering intensity, as though searching for any sign of weakness. "Strangers," Heavyhoof announced. "I respect your effort to come here, from wherever you come from, but times press us to not have as much food as before. We can't make bigger sacrifices than what we already do." The stranger shook his head, his expression worsening. "Very well," he said, a hint of anger in his tone. "Snowpitt is still the clan of stubbornness. If the other clans in this valley are as unbending as you, we all need to prepare for the worst." With a final glance in Aurora's direction, he motioned to his companions to depart. As he left, she couldn't help but notice a gleam in his eyes, one that spoke volumes. This was only the beginning, she realized, and rejection came with a price. A sense of foreboding settled over Aurora, as if the world itself were shifting beneath her hooves. Despite their intentions, this meeting felt oddly haunting, as if they truly did predict impending doom. She shot another glance at Moonlight, who still remained silent ever since getting shut down in the igloo. Aurora turned to Heavyhoof, her determination shining in her eyes. "What do we do next?" she asked. Heavyhoof's gaze was fixed where the armored strangers had stood. "Nothing new," he said softly. "We adapt... endure, as we always have." Leaving her alone in the village square, Heavyhoof and Moonlight Solstice's departure brought a moment of solitude. Aurora closed her eyes, dwelling back on her encounter with the pony spirit. It reminded her that her husband remained unaware, as did everyone else. Whom should she confide in first? Arctic Stars? Her father, Dirt Patch? The most respected shamare, Baba Hooves? Or maybe her closest friends, Winter Wonder, Frosty Flakes and Cold Shoulder? She obviously knew that she had to keep this hidden, but for how long? The stories of spirits held sacred and potent power, and she didn't wish to be accused of concocting tales. Perhaps there was a middle ground, a way to balance truth and fiction. Spreading word of the spirit within the clan would likely invite suspicion and distrust. With a heavy sigh, Aurora turned back towards her home. She would wait for the right time to share her experience with those closest to her. Until then, she resolved to remain silent and observant, aware of the uncertainties lurking in the shadows and the potential to reshape her life. Keeping secrets like this wasn't new to her. She had concealed her pregnancy from her husband for several months, only revealing it when it became impossible to hide. The first pony she had confided in had been Winter Wonder, her trusted friend. It was an emotional year, but she knew it was the right choice with how it all turned out. So why couldn't she do the same now? As Aurora approached her igloo, she couldn't help but notice the newfound beauty surrounding her in Snowpitt. Nestled in a valley, the village offered rich fishing grounds, a place where the artistry of nature and pony craftsmanship intertwined seamlessly. Nestled deep within the valley, Snowpitt was renowned for its unique heritage as an igloo clan. The history of this tight-knit community stretched back for decades, rooted in the legendary tale of the first clans that had come together to meticulously craft awe-inspiring structures from the very snow that blanketed their land. These remarkable buildings, sculpted from ice and snow, shimmered in the gentle, diffused light of the setting sun. Every igloo was adorned with many carvings, a labor of love by its owner, depicting the rich tapestry of snow pony heritage, timeless legends, and the benevolent gods and enduring spirits that watched over the land. The village was not just an ordinary settlement; it was a testament to the resilient and creative nature of its inhabitants. A network of glistening, interconnected pathways weaved through the village, their surfaces adorned with beautiful frost patterns carved by the village's talented icecarvers. Tall, slender ice trees stood guard throughout Snowpitt, their crystal branches glistening in the daylight. They were the ancient sentinels of this land, remnants of the days when spirits and nature were inseparable. These arboreal guardians whispered secrets in the wind, their tales hidden beneath the veneer of delicate snow as they had witnessed what was probably countless centuries. Aurora knew that the beauty of Snowpitt was more than skin deep. It was a reflection of the ponies' deep connection with their surroundings, their respect for the gods, and their enduring will to thrive in a challenging environment. Her experience with the spirit had changed her perspective, allowing her to appreciate the world in a new light. As she entered the warmth of her home, her reflections continued. The spirit still felt like a mesmerizing vision, a reflection of her deepest desires and yearnings for safety. The healing it had granted her was real, not a dream or some fantasy. It was an authentic connection to a world beyond her comprehension. As she curled up beside her sleeping husband and son, even as excitement bubbled within her. She was no longer just an ordinary pony of Snowpitt; she felt like she was something more, something unique. Drifting into sleep, Aurora's thoughts stayed on what happened earlier today. It had bestowed upon her a newfound sense of purpose and understanding, as if a veil of mystery had been pulled back. The world around her was no longer as static as she once thought. ❅ ❆ ❅ The night dissolved into a blurry mosaic of fitful dreams and unsettled sleep. Aurora slowly opened her eyes, serenaded by a duet of soft, gentle snoring, a delicate lullaby from her little one, harmonizing with the deeper, heavier snores of her husband. It was a cute morning chorus she wouldn't trade for anything. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. A memory of the spirit still lingered in her mind, but the more she tried to grasp it, the more it eluded her.  As she rose to her hooves, Arctic Stars and Snowbell were still snoring peacefully, oblivious to her restlessness. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, so she carefully stepped over the pair and crept out of the igloo, leaving the door slightly ajar. She made her way through Snowpitt, the sun hanging low in the sky, its golden rays lending a warm glow to the snow-blanketed landscape. The fallen snow, unique in its own right, bore a dusting of lavender, as if it carried with it thousands of fractured amethyst bits, occasionally glinting with a subtle purple sheen amidst the pristine white. It was the sort of phenomenon the ponies regarded as an omen, a delicate sign from the world itself. This particular strand of snow was rare, and she wondered if it had anything to do with either the strangers or the spirit. As she made her way to Baba's house, a chill crept up her spine. It wasn't until now that she imagined how her talk with Baba would go. How would she even react? She was still processing the encounter herself, and while she knew that it was real, how would Baba believe her? Baba's sacred igloo nestled in a quiet enclave, veiled from the hustle and bustle of daily life. The dwelling bore the distinct craftsmanship of our clan's revered shamare, melding packed snow and ice into a resilient sanctuary against nature's harsh embrace. Approaching, Aurora noticed the entrance ajar, tendrils of warmth and the soft crackling of a fire seeping out, welcoming me into the heart of mystic wisdom. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping into the warmth of the interior. As she peered inside, she could see that the space was cluttered with various knick-knacks and artifacts, and the walls were adorned with intricate patterns and symbols. The scent of incense lingered in the air, and the flickering light of a dying fire illuminated the scene. As Aurora approached, she sensed a familiar presence in the dimly lit interior of the igloo. Baba Hooves, the elderly shamare of Snowpitt, sat cross-legged on a woven mat, her eyes closed in deep concentration. Her hoof, showing the wear of countless seasons, rested gently on a polished wooden staff, its surface etched with symbols. Her once-vibrant coat had now faded into a beautiful mosaic of mottled greys, and her flowing mane, once as white as the mountain peaks, had taken on a silvery gray hue. "You're back!" Aurora exclaimed. Without saying a word, Baba gestured for Aurora to sit down beside her. Aurora obliged, feeling a sense of sympathy wash over her. Even if she was worried about how the explanation would go, she always did feel encouraged near the shamare. "You know how... I go out at night on my own, right? Near the shore to the east of here, where I meditate?" Baba nodded. "Well...," Aurora continued, "I was attacked by a wolf. It almost killed me. I had a wound here." She pointed towards her thigh, where the wound used to be. "But when I was about to die, there was a lot of snow and wind. The wolf ran away like if it were scared, and then I saw a glowing pony..." Baba listened intently. "I think it was a spirit." "A spirit?" Baba asked. It took a moment for Aurora to get a good look at Baba's face. This was the first time she had ever seen the old shamare in complete shock. "Y-yes..." Baba looked down for a moment, as if contemplating something. Her face turned from shock to one of worry. "Baba... it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." "Not... True North, or Gaia... you..." Aurora blinked. Those two were the most respected shamares in Snowpitt under Baba. "What?" "Why... you?" Baba looked back at Aurora as if studying her intently. Aurora couldn't help but feel uneasy in the presence of the older pony. There was something strange and unsettling about her expression, as though she were trying to solve a puzzle that was far beyond Aurora's understanding. After a few moments of silence, a look of realization dawned on Baba's face. Aurora leaned closer. She felt a mixture of curiosity, fear, and anticipation coursing through her. What was Baba about to reveal? As Baba opened her mouth, a loud creak came from the door behind them. "Baba?" It was True North, and it echoed through the quiet interior of Baba's igloo. Aurora froze. True was known for being close to Baba, and she was certain that the mare would see straight through her attempts to cover up her story. "True North, I'm just visiting," Aurora called out, her eyes darting to the doorway in panic. "Baba is here too." There was a brief pause before True replied. "Well, I was just making sure. It sounded like someone else was here. I don't want anyone disturbing Baba's privacy, you know. She just came back from a retreat and is exhausted." "I'm fine, True." It was Baba's voice that came through this time. Aurora felt her heart pounding in her chest. If Baba revealed what had happened, she was sure that it would lead to endless questions. She couldn't let that happen. Not yet. Baba turned back to Aurora, despite True North still waiting at the door. "Aurora. You must not mention what you witnessed to anyone else, do you hear me? Nopony must know." Despite knowing this already, Aurora felt a sudden rush of anxiety. Baba leaned close, her face inches from Aurora's own. "It's dangerous. The spirits do not appear lightly, and they do not grant their gifts to just anyone. You're not even a shamare. If the others found out..." Before Aurora could respond, she heard another creak at the door, and she quickly rose to her hooves. "I have to go, but thank you, Baba. I won't say anything to anyone," Aurora promised. She hurried out of the igloo, the murmuring voices of True North and Baba lingering in her ears. She could only catch a few sentences from True North explaining the arrival of the strangers yesterday.  As Aurora made her way back through the village center, she resolved to keep her experience a closely guarded secret. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than she realized, and she was determined to uncover the truth. The sun reminded her of the early hour she had woken. It was still morning, the air fresh and crisp. The world seemed different, as if she had awakened into a new reality—one that was both exquisite and formidable. The enigma surrounding the spirit still occupied her thoughts, and she knew that uncovering its secrets was only a matter of time. For now, her secret remained known only to her and Baba. Returning to her igloo, she tucked herself back in bed, in the warm embrace of her husband. She was happy to have a momentary escape from the world outside, to relish in the simple comfort of her family and bask in the warmth she so sorely needed after everything.