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// Chapter 3: The Lone Curmudgeon 
// Story: What my Cutie Mark is Telling Me 
// by MelancholicMemory 
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Silver Mist shrieked as two withered, blood-shot eyes stared down at her, one a deep blue, and the other, an eerie white with a large, aged scar running across it. Those eyes had a cold flame running through them that scared Silver Mist beyond all measure. His long mane was greying and spread in a wild, crazy manner, and his face was wrinkled with great age. Silver Mist swung the hatchet at this stranger, fearing for her life, but he returned this attack by swinging his heavy, wooden cane, knocking the hatchet out of her mouth, flying through the air and landing back in the log, precisely how she had found it.

“Who are you?” growled the old unicorn, in a deep, grizzly voice with an air of impatience about it. He was a large, old stallion with broad shoulders, who leaned on a makeshift cane, looking down at the little filly. His mane and tail were grey, but Silver Mist could make out traces of black hair within it, revealing his original mane color. His coat was a dark gray as well, though this seemed to be his normal color. However, even it was slowly turning lighter shades of silver and grey. His scowl revealed his teeth, which were chipped and damaged so much that he looked more like a monster than a pony. He wore a faded brown cloak, which hid his flank and back from view. Silver Mist looked up at him in fear.

“I asked you a question,” he said flatly.

“I’m…my name is…Coa-...Silver Mist,” she said timidly, correcting herself.

“Well, Silver Mist, what are you doing here?” he asked with continued impatience. He looked down at her with a little contempt, but he did not seem hostile.

“I’m…well…it’s complicated. It’s a long story.”

The old stallion looked around briefly before asking with a sigh. “Look, Silver Mist, do you have any family? Friends? Shouldn’t you be getting back to them? The Everfree is no place for a child.”

Silver Mist looked at him before stating darkly, “No, I don’t have any family. Not anymore.”

The mysterious stallion looked around some more before gesturing to the filly to follow him, heading towards the house.

“Well, come on. You’re gonna tell me this ‘long story’ of yours.”

Silver Mist hesitated. Should she follow this stallion? Was he dangerous? Could she trust him? Finally she decided to enter the house.

The old stallion opened the door and took a match off of a rickety little table. He lit a lamp, illuminating the little room as shadows danced on the walls behind them. The stallion limped over to the kitchen table and sat down in a worn wooden chair. He waved a hoof towards the other chair, motioning for Silver Mist to sit as well. She sat down, looking around the room.

In the sink, a large pile of grimy dishes piled high, and all of the counters and tables were covered in clutter and various odds and ends, none of which seemed to have been moved in a very long time. I thin layer of dust covered everything and the air inside the building was musty and stale.

“So, let’s hear it,” growled the old stallion gesturing Silver Mist. She took a deep breath and began her story.


“Well, I can see why you’re reluctant to go back home. But I can’t help you. All of that adventure-type stuff isn’t my thing anym-“ he began, ending abruptly. “I…I don’t do that.” The light began to die down in the room as the sun went down outside. He let out a heavy sigh. “It’s dangerous to go out at night. You can stay here,” he said, getting back up slowly, leaning on his cane for support. He limped over to a nearby door and tapped it with his cane. “Here’s where you’ll stay. There are some blankets in the closet.” The strange old stallion continued to limp away out of sight.

Silver Mist nervously approached the room, opening the door with a loud creak. The room was even dustier than the rest of the house. It was littered with old boxes piled along the sides of the wall. There was a closet door on the right side of the room, and there was a small, white bed on the far side of the room, under the window. Despite the dust and clutter, this room seemed a lot nicer than the rest of the house. She walked to the closet, and opened the door. There was a small pile of linens underneath a large, leather trunk. She pulled on the blanket, but the trunk was pulled down and fell on top of her. She whined in pain before pushing it off of her.

“What’s even in this stupid thing?” she thought angrily. She released the two clamps with a click and opened the trunk curiously.  Her eyes grew wide at what she saw.