//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: Eternity // by DawnFade //------------------------------// The end. Only, it never truly is. Even when all is quiet upon the dead fields, a faint breeze will stir the air, and it will carry the dandelion snow of a thousand flowers and cast them across the land. New fields will grow and, in turn, play their part in the larger pattern. Two weakened flowers, two crumbling winter leaves, closed the cottage door behind them gently. Pipsqueak mused that their every action was gentle these days, encumbered as they were with age. It was a stray thought, and fleeting. His attention was upon his wife, now grey in hair as much as fur. Even now, his old heart throbbed when she smiled. Dinky was still smaller than him, though they had both shrunk as aged ponies are wont to do. If he concentrated, he could make out the wrinkles and smile lines that marred her soft face. He preferred not to concentrate, as his failing eyes coated his wife in an angelic fuzz that made her look not a day older than she was at their wedding. It had been winter then as well. There was always something special about the cold season for the two ponies, and they unanimously decided to have their joining take place during it. The location, too, had been instantly agreed upon. It is common for the bride and groom to choose a place that has personal significance to them, and there were none more significant to the couple as the oak tree. His mother had not been able to stop crying through the entire ceremony, squeaking with a new round of sobs every few seconds as Pipsqueak and Dinky looked into each other’s eyes. A very light snow had settled on the ground around the oak tree, yet none of the guests shivered. All eyes were centred on the couple as the purple unicorn who led the joining said her lines. Dinky had worn a shining white dress with a short trail that sparkled amongst the snow. She had jokingly told the designer, an enthusiastic white-furred mare, that she wanted to be able to climb a tree wearing the dress. Though slightly mortified, the mare had carefully crafted the dress to allow a lot of freedom to move. For his part, Pipsqueak wore his father’s suit, a heavy black coat with a brown patch sown on one side. He had felt more than a little embarrassed to stand next to his radiant wife-to-be, as if he was unworthy. Her smile had changed that, however. As soon as she met his eyes, walking down the makeshift isle, his anxiety had dissipated like the very snow they stood on would. Around her neck, he remembered, a little velvet pouch had hung. An exact copy had rested against his chest as well. Inside was a link to their past, small golden and round in form. The fond memories reminded him of an important detail. “Do you have them?” he asked his wife. Her horn glowed softly and a small worn brown bag floated out of her mane. “Always, love.” The magic wavered and the bag dropped to the ground with a clink. Pipsqueak stepped forward and picked it up with his teeth, letting Dinky lean on him for a moment. “Are you sure you want to go?” he whispered, only realising the double meaning of his words as he spoke them. She looked at him tiredly and smiled. “Take me to the pond, Pip.” Her voice was soft and weakened but he heard her all the same. Together, they elderly couple walked the old path amongst the older trees. The wind was cold and biting, yet it didn’t touch them. The snow was thick and falling, yet it did not obstruct them. The forest they had spent their lives in was granting them their last reprieve from the elements. Branches lowered subtly to guard against the gusts of air, and leaves caught crystallised water before it reached the ground. Though their progress was slow and careful, their arrival at the little pond was inevitable. Pipsqueak helped Dinky to the edge and placed the pouch on the ground, lightly kicking it open to spill the two coins onto the ground. Dinky sank to the ground and Pipsqueak joined her. “It’s frozen.” The pond had a thin sheet of ice across the top, like a pure mirror. Pipsqueak liked how it reflected everything in a strange blur. It seemed like two different ponies looked back at them as they gazed into it. “I wanted to put the coins back where we found them,” the old stallion said, nudging one of the coins so a particular side faced upwards. He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to break the ice without hurting himself. “This can be close enough,” Dinky assured him weakly. The two old ponies lay next to each other and watched the pond. It glittered under the sunlight, a thousand tiny sparkles like bits scattered across a road. A beautiful mirror reflecting beauty. Pipsqueak was not much of a poet, but the sight filled him with an intense hope that even after he was gone there would be artistry for others to marvel at. “The ice will melt,” he said, not sadly but with warmth, “Soon this pond will go back to normal.” Dinky’s reply was barely audible and her eyes were closed. “I guess we should enjoy it while we can…” Her breath no longer mingled with his. Silently, Dinky lay beside him, her head resting against his neck. She was warm though, the echo of life giving Pipsqueak comfort. The familiar pulsing of her heart had stopped, leaving her completely still. Not the slightest breeze disturbed the silvery strands of hair that hung across her face. Even in the embrace of death, she was beautiful. Pipsqueak knew he was not as weak as his wife had been. Perhaps, if he roused himself, he could go home and live for more days or weeks or years. But those would be days and weeks and years without Dinky. He wasn’t going anywhere. Pipsqueak snuggled closer to his wife and nuzzled her cheek gently. Her lips were curved in a faint ghostly smile that he liked. It was almost as if she was happy to wait for him to join her. The idea flooded his chest with warmth and his heart beat stronger than it had in days. Suddenly, it faltered and his breath hitched. The surprise of finality coursed through his every vein like little icy caresses. It was too soon... He thought he had hours for the cold to lead him gently into the dusk of life. His chest spiked with pain that was numbed by the snow beneath him. Shuddering with the next burst, Pipsqueak felt his lungs constrict. Air was short and he sucked quietly for more. “D-Dinky...” he gasped, trying desperately to focus on his wife’s face. His old eyes provided no relief. “Please...” Pipsqueak begged softly as his chest wracked with another spasm. “Please... Let me see her...” He knew not who he was trying to speak to, be it Princess or Deity, yet his final plea was heeded. By nature or by power, his vision cleared and the snowy forest drifted away from him. A little grey filly with great golden eyes grinned at him from atop a distant oak tree. The pain in his chest receded and he smiled back. The world was blurry except for her. The world was dark, except for her. She was bright to him. “C’mon, Pip!” she squeaked, voice echoing in the foggy clearing. “Let’s go exploring!” Pulling himself to his hooves, Pipsqueak felt an odd weight drop from his shoulders. Looking down, he found that he was standing between an old couple lying together with matching smiles. They looked so happy sleeping like that, so Pipsqueak was careful not to wake them when he trotted off to join Dinky. There was no time to talk to some old ponies. He had to climb, he had to run and play. He had to live. Beneath the white canopy, the married couple rested. There were no tears frozen upon their cold cheeks, nor was there sadness in their final breaths. Because they were imbued by something more, something amazing. Something magical. A love so strong that even death is fleeting in comparison. And that is eternity.