//------------------------------// // ...visible around us // Story: Currents // by Cranberry Muffin //------------------------------// The night was clear, crisp. The stars twinkled brightly overhead, hung in a rich, velvety sky, Luna’s crested moon visible above the treetops. The lingering scent of autumn clung to the air, the scent of ripe apples and decaying leaves. And overlaying that was the approaching winter, that peculiar smell that tickled the senses and left a pony with the feeling that snow was coming – and coming soon. Brightly colored leaves crunched beneath Gusty’s hooves as she stepped slowly along behind Gingerbread through the night. She could easily have kept up with her companion; could have even surpassed her. But she had found herself, that night, lagging behind, lingering amongst the leaves that littered the path. She had always loved this time of year, and autumns in Ponyville were so much more vibrant than what she’d experienced in Canterlot. The colors, a swirl of rich golds and bronzes and coppers, had dazzled her; here in Ponyville the trees were so lush with color it looked as if they’d burst into flame. That first autumn, she had found herself running through the forest with reckless abandon, prancing among the trees like a foal, watching as the leaves drifted in a slow dance to the ground. And still, after living here for some time, that same sense of wonderment filled her heart, and Gusty found herself thundering past Gingerbread, on a mad dash towards…Towards what? She didn’t know, just that she had to run; had to feel the wind whistle through her mane and tail. She ran hard, hooves pounding the ground and reducing the leaves in her path to mere dust. And when she stopped, her heart was pounding, her lungs burning with each breath she took. The cool of the night settled on her sweat-soaked coat, chilling her to the very bone, and yet she felt warm; alive. When Gingerbread caught up with her, Gusty was standing in a clearing, head tilted towards the night sky, eyes shut. Her horn was lit, glowing brightly in the night. Its silvery-blue cast made her coat shine; made everything in the nearby wood appear hauntingly beautiful. A gentle, magical breeze broke the stillness of the night, ruffling her mane and sending the fallen leaves swirling through the air. There, in the night, she looked ethereal, as if she had fallen from another world into this one, this place that was harsh and unforgiving, yet still full of beauty. As if sensing the other mare’s approach, Gusty tilted her head, pale blue eyes snapping open, gaze resting squarely on Gingerbread’s face. For a moment, they just stared at one another, Gingerbread committing to memory the way Gusty looked in that moment, windblown and free, the way she was always meant to look. Then the unicorn tipped her head back up, letting her eyes slide shut once more. Her ears perked, one of them swiveling towards something only she could hear. Gingerbread stepped closer, pressing her flank against Gusty’s and trying and failing to imagine what the other pony was feeling or seeing or listening to. “What do you hear?” She asked quietly, her own voice sounding too loud to her own ears, as if it would shatter the still serenity of the night and bring an end to this bewitching magic that surrounded them. “Winter.” The reply was solemn, and Gusty turned, trotting swiftly towards a majestic maple tree, beckoning Gingerbread to follow after her. She gazed up at the tree for a moment, pushing her magic towards the last few leaves still stubbornly clinging to its gnarled branches and effortlessly bringing them down. They floated about the two ponies, their decent slow and gentle, the unicorn’s magical aura washing out their colors. Gusty pushed a hoof against the trunk of the tree, indicating that her companion should do the same. Uncertain what the unicorn was getting at, but trusting her all the same, Gingerbread pressed her right hoof flat against the rough surface, giving the other pony a curious glance as she did so. “Don’t think about it; just feel.” Gusty instructed, silencing any question she’d been about to ask, “You’re an earth pony; you should be able to.” Gingerbread looked back at the tree, glancing up at the leafless branches, then back down at the layer of bark beneath her hoof. She didn’t often tap in to the reserve of magic all earth ponies possessed and, to her, the tree just felt like a tree, cold and coarse. She shook her head a little, looking back at her companion. “I can’t...” And then, unexpectedly, she was enveloped in that mystical blue aura that was unique to Gusty and Gusty alone. She, and the tree, and Gusty herself…All wrapped in the warm, tingly feel of Gusty’s magic as it flowed freely from her horn, opening up the world, tapping in to the deep-seated magic Gingerbread usually only called upon to help her chose the best ingredients. And the tree suddenly pulsed with life; warming beneath Gingerbread’s trembling hoof. And she could feel it; its energy and spirit. The tree was shutting down, letting its own earthy magic leach out in to the air as its leaves fell. It sang wordlessly of the coming winter, of its need for sleep. The tree knew what Gusty knew, that a cool air of change was descending on Ponyville, brought from the north on a howling wind that was routinely blocked by the weather ponies. Gusty dropped back on to all fours, her aura dissipating, the remaining magic nothing but a few sparkles of blue and silver that faded quickly in to the night. “Winter,” her voice was hushed, tone reverent, “It’s coming. Soon.” Gingerbread could only stare at her, marveling at the strength of her magic. She had seen Gusty working in the past, of course, shuttling leaves and branches around the park, blowing snow from their front walk. But she had never before been touched by the unicorn’s magic; never experienced it firsthoof. It left her breathless, wide-eyed and amazed. Gusty was more powerful than she had ever let on. - Gusty drifted off almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, sinking into that sort of deep sleep that was blissfully free of both dreams and nightmares. It had been a taxing day for her, mentally, emotionally and physically, and sleep was a more than welcome blessed release. But though the hour was late, Gingerbread found herself wide awake, unable to relax for the thoughts swirling through her mind. How was it possible that nopony had ever noticed the raw abilities housed in her companion’s wiry frame? Was it because they were all looking for more traditional unicorn magic, with its roots in science and alchemy and knowledge, or laced with whimsy and the arts? Or was it simply because nopony had ever bothered to look beyond her glaring failures to see the potential lying within her? Both thoughts were equally disconcerting; the purpose of magic school was to teach young unicorns how to tap into and harness their distinct magic, how to apply it to both the mundane and the fantastic. Gusty had never learned to break beyond her barriers, but was this because she had never been taught how or was it because she was truly incapable of doing so? At one time, Gingerbread had believed her when Gusty said she couldn’t. The evidence of her attempts at using magic for everyday tasks was plain to see; her magic easily spiraled out of control, creating gale force winds instead of doing what she wished it to. Or it simply fizzled out altogether, her horn lighting with a glow that extinguished as quickly as it flickered to life. But the magic she had unleashed that night in the forest… It was a frightening thought, that Gusty might someday break free of whatever bound her to her limitations. Gingerbread didn’t want to think about what might happen, were the unicorn to unlock the secret to everyday magic. It was something she wanted desperately, but how much would it change her? If she were to suddenly be like everypony else, would she still be unique, or would she fade in to obscurity, no longer the pony that captivated the baker’s heart so? If she changed, how could Gusty possibly still be herself? For it was Gusty’s magical restrictions that had drawn Gingerbread to her. In the face of her own weaknesses, Gusty was still stubborn and proud, still unwilling to fold to the fact that she was different and unlike others. Her persistence was endearing and she was forced to work twice as hard as the average unicorn to make up for her shortcomings. And though she complained, often and loudly, she still came through for everypony; still put forth her best efforts. She may have been off-putting to many, but Gingerbread easily overlooked her surliness in favor of giving attention to her more desirable qualities. Gusty was beautiful in a hard, angular way, like an uncut gem or a snowflake. Her beauty was cold, aloof, something you could reach for without ever touching. But Gingerbread hadn’t been deterred and the result of her warmth and patience was the unicorn curled up in her bed, peacefully sleeping. The only sounds in the room were the quiet, even rhythm of Gusty’s breathing and the gentle rustle of flannel sheets as Gingerbread crept away and out of bed, careful not to wake her companion. Her worries were unfounded, though; Gusty was a deep sleeper who did nothing more than roll over at the slight disruption, murmuring something unintelligible and sinking deeper into sleep. Outside, the sky had become overcast, the light of the moon lending an eerie orange glow to the gathering clouds. A few snowflakes swirled past the window, sparkling in the ethereal moonlight as they drifted towards the ground. It wasn’t cold enough yet for the snow to stick and unless any other pony was awake, nopony else would even know of its existence come morning. Any snowflake that made its way to the ground would inevitably be melted with the rising of the sun, never to be seen again. And that was a good thing; with the official start of winter still a month away, nopony was ready for snow yet. Were it to endure, this flurry would be met only with complaints from the townsponies, who failed to see its true splendor, instead seeing only the cold bleakness it brought with it. But there, in the night, the snow was beautiful, sparkling like diamonds, as it whirled past the cold windowpane and towards the world below. Gingerbread smiled to herself, sitting back and letting the curtain fall, obscuring her view of the outside world. The snow, like Gusty’s temper, would come again, many times. But it would only be beautiful in certain circumstances, when the moment was right. The rest of the time, to the rest of the world, it was bothersome, something to be avoided. The earth pony knew better, though. She embraced the cold, hoping her own warm heart could temper it and, like the spring, bring a thaw. On impulse, she turned back to the window, brushing aside the curtain and raising the sash to admit the chill of the night. She was met with a blast of icy air, blowing both the curtains and her mane into her face. And as the cold embrace of the coming winter wrapped around her, she smiled again, glancing back at the sleeping figure in the bed and feeling her heart warm again at the sight of Gusty, so calm and peaceful. Gingerbread crawled back into bed, tugging the sleeping unicorn close and burying her face in her short mane. Gusty rolled, burrowing against her, the blankets twisting about her body. The earth pony shut her eyes, finally drifting off to the land of sleep, while the wind whistled through the window and scattered rapidly melting snowflakes about the room. - “Did you really mean it when you said you wouldn’t love me any more if I changed?” It was early the next morning and Gingerbread was hard at work, rolling out her chilled dough, efficiently and smoothly. She had it down to an art; ten passes of the rolling pin and it was the perfect thickness for the perfect gingerbread cookies. That morning, she was cutting leaves and acorns out of the dough, making dozens of fall themed cookies that would be frosted in the same beautiful oranges, reds, and yellows of the foliage outdoors. Gusty was slouched in a chair, munching on one of the day old muffins –blueberry oat- and watching her, wondering at how the baker worked so quickly with only the use of her hooves. It never ceased to amaze her, how Gingerbread made things look so easy; things that the unicorn struggled with on a daily basis. If only she could use her magic properly! Then she would be able to help and the baker’s days would be so much easier. But…Gingerbread looked so happy when she was working. She was almost always smiling and humming, whether she was mixing batter, filling loaf pans, or frosting cookies. She always said that she put her heart into everything she baked; that the secret ingredient was love. Even if Gusty did manage to tap into her magic and help, would it be the right thing to do? Would using her magic only serve to overpower the earth pony’s own special magic? She looked down at her hooves; they were the hooves of a hard working pony, scuffed and worn. She didn’t bother to polish or buff them. They were only going to get chipped more as she did her job, puttering around in the park. She didn’t have the beautiful, pristine hooves of a Canterlot unicorn, who had nothing better to do than to play around with their magic, never to know what it was like to really work. Never to know what it was like to make magic happen without using the magic inside them. “Oh Gusty…” Gingerbread had stilled, staring down at the cookie cutter she was pressing into the dough on her worktable, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She frowned, looking over her shoulder at the unicorn seated behind her, “It’s just…You want to be like everypony else so badly and I’m scared that if that were to happen, you wouldn’t be the pony I love any more. And I don’t know if I’d be able to love somepony that’s not you.” “Do you…” Gusty blinked, taken aback by the other mare’s honesty. She’d never really asked Gingerbread something so serious before and the surprising frankness with which the baker had spoken surprised her. “Do you really think I would change that much; that I wouldn’t be myself anymore?” “I don’t know, Gusty.” The earth pony sighed, turning back to her work and pushing the cookie cutter into the dough with more force than she meant to, “But I do know that your magic is different and unique. It’s a big part of what makes you special to me, because you’re not like every other pony in the world. And I know that I love everything about you, even when you’re demanding and pushy and grumpy and I don’t want you to change one bit!” Gusty fell silent, gaze dropping to the floor. All of this time, she had been so busy feeling sorry for herself that she hadn’t seen what her behavior was doing to the other mare. Gingerbread deserved so much better than a whiny, spoiled brat for a partner. “I understand that it’s hard.” Gingerbread went on, sliding the acorn-shaped cookies on to a baking sheet, “You feel like you’re a failure because you can’t do things other unicorns can. But I don’t care about that. You don’t have to try to impress me, because you already do. Your magic is amazing, Gusty. I wish you knew that.” Your magic is amazing. Nopony had ever told Gusty that before and it almost felt like an answer that was entirely too effortless. But Gingerbread was not a pony who said things just because she thought they were the things other ponies wanted to hear…She said things she meant, things that came from her heart. And who, really, had Gusty been trying to change for? It was the snobby unicorns from school that had made her feel bad about her magic to begin with. Her magic, that was wild, untamable, practical only in archaic ways. There wasn’t anything grand and important for her to do with it, but Gingerbread was right -- it was hers and hers alone, and she should learn to stop complaining and appreciate it more. “…I’m sorry.” Gusty whispered, looking back up at the back of the other pony’s head, watching as she worked. She knew Gingerbread was just trying to help, but she felt even worse, in different ways. Gingerbread was quiet for a moment as she finished up with the tray of cookies and slid them in to the oven. After setting the timer, she turned, dusting flour from her hooves and trotting across the room to face the unicorn. “Don’t be sorry.” She took Gusty’s face carefully in her hooves, leaning in to rest their foreheads together, mindful of the other mare’s horn. Their eyes met, sparkling cobalt and frosted blue, Gusty’s shimmering with tears. “Just…” She pressed their muzzles together, kissing the unicorn softly, “Things will get better. So just…don’t be sorry…Be you.” Gusty snuffled, swiping at the tears and returning the kiss. “Okay,” She mumbled, voice shaky, “I’ll try.”